UNEXPECTED COMPANY

by Deborah Elliott-Upton

Depending on who it is, unexpected company may not always be a bad thing.

In Chapter Seven of Only If It Rains (my unpublished-at-the-moment mystery novel), a character slated to be Victim # 4 unexpectedly became too important to kill. The comic relief necessary to offset the tension, Mike Bailey grew to be a stronger character in every scene he appeared. I’d grown to appreciate the reporter meant to occupy space for no more than the first five chapters, but yet he’d already muscled his way into six. I honestly hated the idea of writing his death scene and had decided he’d be killed off screen. Bailey’s demise was imminent. He’d overstayed his welcome: He had to go.

Still, when my sleuth, Detective Caylor Reed, entangled herself in gym equipment in a most embarrassing way, whose grinning face appeared over her weighted-down body? The newspaper reporter who dogged her every move vying for a date or an exclusive — whichever came first — caught her in an unflattering and unprofessional position.

Entangled in a weights and pulley system obviously designed by a sadist, Caylor looked up at the lanky form of Mike Bailey hovering over her, smiling like he’d just won the lottery. Her fingers tore at the buckles connecting the weights to her legs which had seemed to become twenty pounds heavier now that they were hoisted into the air. Caylor’s eyes moved from the buckle that refused to unbuckle to Bailey and back again.

When he unbuckled her, Caylor asked, “What are you doing here, Bailey?”

When I typed those words, my hands flew off the keyboard as if they’d been scorched. I actually gasped. What was he doing here? He was supposed to be somewhere with the serial killer becoming Victim # 4.

Michael was unexpected company that turned my original straight arc plotline into a rollercoaster ride. Suddenly, the book was more interesting. I swear I had nothing to do with it. My Muse must have typed while I snoozed.

When an anthology submission was announced, I was excited. A new character, Joyell, had arrived fully developed and with plenty of baggage. All I needed to do was write her story.

Unfortunately, Joyell’s story wasn’t as easy to construct as it first appeared. I had what I believed was a killer idea, only it died on the page. Nothing I devised resurrected the sassiness I knew Joyell deserved. Sadly, I put Joyell away in a preserved space in my brain and also on a computer file in case my non-mechanical memory faltered. Her story would have to wait.

The deadline grew closer and I had nothing. Sheriff Clyde Butler arrived just in time. I knew the Sheriff’s nuances and faults immediately. I invented his dashed dreams and why he’d become the man he had. Yet, the Sheriff’s story also had several false starts. Sheriff Butler felt real, but the case he was working on didn’t. Exasperated, I took a walk through my neighborhood. When I came across a dog spying me through a fence knothole, I bent down to his level and asked, “What would be the worse case for this man at this time in his life?” The answer came not from the pooch or from me, but the idea of a four-year-old Ruby Denton missing from her home.

Ruby’s story became “Texas Ruby.” Ruby was the media darling of the moment and a valid reason Sheriff Butler would delay his retirement. Ruby did more than provide a case for Sheriff, she dictated the story. I merely typed the manuscript.

Alfred Hitchcock’s Mystery Magazine hosts a Mysterious Photograph contest every issue. The photograph of a lone man holding onto a collapsing building with one hand posed as instant inspiration for Jansen in “The Collection.” The main character sauntered into my conscientiousness fairly easily. His sidekick, Otis, was fast on his heels and quite unexpected. Otis did what good sidekicks often do: he gave Jansen someone beside himself to care about and protect.

This morning when I woke to thunderstorms ruining an expected sunny July day, Joyell’s image danced through my memory, tantalizing me with ideas and a surprise. Today she brought Reed’s veteran partner, Homicide Detective Donald Harrison along. I hadn’t seen him in a while and we had much to catch up on. The day suddenly seemed promising with the unexpected.