HARK!
I hear…the footsteps of a private eye…and footsteps following him…
The book: Murder at Union Station.
The setting: Phoenix, 1946.
The author: David S. Pederson, a two-time Lambda Award finalist who lives a much-quieter life in Phoenix than his harried characters.
David S. Pederson
Pederson reads from his latest crime novel at 6 p.m. Thursday, Sept. 22, at Changing Hands Bookstore. Click here for event info.
Murder at Union Station is the second book in a series featuring Mason Adler, a gay fifty-year-old private detective, living the single life in an apartment on Central and Encanto.
The plot: After the horrific discovery of a murdered woman inside a trunk in the Union Station baggage room, Mason is hired to find the killer.
Will Mason Adler find the killer…before the killer finds him?
One Amazon reviewer called it “A well-written, suspenseful, and smoothly plotted mystery.” Another Amazon reviewer thought there was too much dialogue and not enough character development, but was impressed by “the accurate historical detail, especially hats.”
The story was inspired by a real-life event that happened in the 1930s: a woman murdered her two “friends” and hid the bodies in trunks, which were then loaded onto a train bound for California.
Bizarrely enough, last week near Cave Creek a bicyclist on a desert trail found a murdered woman stuffed in a suitcase (on a trail I use regularly!).
“I have not heard about the woman in the suitcase in the desert,” Pederson told HARK Valley. “How awful! And definitely eerie.”
Pederson was born in Colorado and raised in Wisconsin. “When my husband retired we decided to flee the long, cold, dreary winters of the midwest and come to Arizona,” the writer said. “We've been here a little over two years now and we love it.”
He has been a prolific writer, churning out seven Detective Heath Barrington Mystery novels in five years; for what it’s worth, all of them had at least 4-star average reviews on Amazon–so readers really like this author.
The previous series was mostly set in the midwest (one was on a ship sailing to England). Heath Barrington is also a gay detective, “though he's a police detective as opposed to a private eye, and he's in his early thirties, in a committed relationship,” Pederson noted.
“Moving to the desert, I originally thought about continuing the Barrington series, perhaps having him and his partner move here, too. But then I decided it was time for a fresh start with a new detective, someone older, a bit more grizzled, and single.
“Someone who lives here in Arizona…”
Thus begat Mason Adler.
The new detective, his creator said, “was created out of bits and pieces of my husband, and various friends and people I know or have known. He's a likable guy, smart, kind, and patient. The first of the series was Murder on Monte Vista. “Great read, once started, didn’t want to stop,” summarized one Amazon reviewer. Indeed, Pederson confirmed, “I've thoroughly enjoyed researching Phoenix history as I create my mysteries.”
Click here for the Amazon site for Murder at Union Station.
A gay private eye investigating a Forties shocking murder–sounds like a movie or series, doesn’t it?
“As far as a movie, that would indeed be awesome,” the author said.
His perfect cast?
“I think Cheyenne Jackson would make a great Mason Adler, and Leslie Jordan would be almost perfect as Walter. Kate Winslet would be good as Lydia, I think.”
Why did he become a mystery writer?
“I grew up watching all the Agatha Christie movies, and the Thin Man movies, and of course the Raymond Chandler movies. Then I discovered they were mostly based on books and so I devoured those. And then I thought how great to be able to write something like that, and I figured I’d try my hand at it. And to my surprise, I found out I enjoy doing it.
“I’ve written short stories, and a fair amount of poetry, but so far I haven’t written any novels other than murder mysteries.”
His motto: Life is a mystery!
An excerpt from his Pederson's new book:
Late evening, Monday, May 6, 1946
The baggage room, Union Station, Phoenix
Leland Burrows was in his mid-forties, on the shorter side, and solid. He was as strong as an ox, and rather resembled one, too, with a wide nose, thick eyebrows, small, dark eyes that were usually bloodshot, short brownish red hair, and a bushy red mustache that seemed to grow out of his deep, oversized nostrils. He wore dingy, oily bib overalls with an old blue work shirt underneath, stained below the arms from months of perspiration. Upon his feet were heavy, well-worn brown leather work boots. He had been employed at Union Station in the baggage room for almost twenty years and had seen his share of fellow handlers come and go. Most of them couldn’t adjust to the long hours, the heavy lifting, and the oppressive heat of the summers, and moved on to other jobs within a year or two. The latest, Alfred Brody, had been there only a few weeks but so far seemed to be working out okay, in Leland’s opinion. Leland wiped his brow with a soiled red kerchief and stared at the younger man now, watching him feed part of a ham sandwich to a rail-thin dog near the large street-side doors....
Alfred looked over at the old, thin dog who was now sniffing and whining relentlessly at a large steamer trunk. “What’s the matter, pooch? What do you smell?” Alfred said, ignoring the senior baggage handler and walking over to the hound.
“Go on! Shoo!” Leland said loudly. He clapped several times, but the dog wouldn’t move away. Instead, he started circling the trunk slowly, keeping his head down and sniffing at the corners as he continued to whine and growl.
Alfred walked still closer and examined the luggage tag attached to the handle. “Belongs to a Miss Charlotte Castle. Hmm. That’s the trunk I picked up with those suitcases this afternoon from that apartment over on Roosevelt.”