One of the many reasons I write mysteries is my outright envy for the eccentric lives of Sherlock Holmes, Nero Wolfe, and Lord Peter Wimsey. Call it ego envy. These men are defined by their aloof intelligence, a singular dedication to themselves, and of course to solving crime. They are never scoffed at for their idiosyncrasies, misogyny, or entitled-behavior. And each has a faithful male companion that adores him. And two of these tolerant dedicated companions write glowingly about the cases of their eccentric friends. God, what could be better? Two women.

And instead of placing these women in a cozy village or a posh city I decided to put them in Southern California — the hardboiled land of Raymond Chandler, Ross Macdonald, and Nathaniel West.

In my writing I explore family secrets. Secrets take on a life of their own, eventually dominating and destroying those who keep them. Ironically the secret is kept in order to protect the very structure it eventually breaks-down — the family. This creates the perfect environment for betrayal and murder. And the perfect terrain for Claire and Maggie to investigate.

Detective Claire Conrad is an imposing figure at six feet tall. She is a stately vision in her elegant pantsuits of all white or all black, worn on alternating days, complete with ivory or ebony walking stick to match. Claire has a brilliant deductive mind, unabashed self-admiration, and does not suffer fools gladly. Between cases she has been known to suffer “the languors” and take to her bed.

Maggie Hill is Claire Conrad’s companion. Smart, sassy, sexy, she’s riddled with uncertainty and filled with bravado, which makes her Everywoman. She wears sunglasses to protect her soul from the perfect Southern California weather.

Boulton, Claire’s butler / bodyguard, is a complete and utter fantasy of mine. And I wish he were real. Sometimes.

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