A day in the life of Dulcie Schwartz, grad student

Good morning. Thank you for meeting me here, in the library. I know it sounds funny to say, after five years of research, that I am under the gun. But the truth is, I am. You see, I’m working on my doctoral thesis and every day counts. I don’t want to be Dulcie Schwartz “ABD” – all but dissertation – and so I really have to get to work.

That said, I’m happy to talk with you. Sometimes, I know, I can get a little caught up in my own head. Even though my boyfriend, Chris, is an applied science student, a computer geek, I know I tend to stick with the bookish types in the English and American Literature and Languages department, my friend Trista, especially. And we do tend to keep to ourselves. Which, come to think of it, may be why none of them have stumbled across a dead body in a while.

Ghosts? Do I believe in ghosts? Of course not! Yes, you’ve probably heard that Lucy, my mother, is a former hippie and that I was raised on a commune. And, yes, she’s always calling me to tell me that Jupiter is aligned with Venus or that she’s had some dream or other. But that’s part of the reason I’m a graduate student. I believe in the life of the mind. In rational thought. In reason – and in books. Well, yes, I am visited on occasion by the shade of Mr. Grey. But Mr. Grey was a special cat, a very special pet, and he only comes by to keep me company sometimes, when I get down. Well, yes, sometimes he has helped me out, but not too much. I mean, you wouldn’t expect a cat to tell you what to do – or who to suspect, would you? Why should a ghost cat be any different?

Right now, though, I could use some help. You see, the acting head of my department has been looking at me funny. He seems to think I’m involved in the theft of a real treasure, the Dunster Codex. Yes, I know it’s only a book – but a very ancient and rare one. But I swear I’ve only seen it once or twice, and I know Trista isn’t involved, whatever the cops are saying. Though, no, come to think of it, I don’t have any idea where she has disappeared to, either. Mr. Grey, could you help?


This blog originally ran in Dru's Book Musings: http://notesfromme.wordpress.com/2012/04/18/dulcie-schwartz-by-clea-simon/

A day in the life of Wallis the tabby

What, you were expecting a person?

Yes, I supposed I should cede this space to Pru. My roommate – the one who opens the cans – is Pru Marlowe. She’s also the one who dragged us both out of the city and to this godforsaken town a little over a year ago, as you people reckon it. Couldn’t handle the pressures of city life. The men, the fun. Couldn’t handle that suddenly, after a bad bout of flu, she could hear me, Wallis, the cat. Not her cat, please. May as well call Pru my human. Considering who does most of the thinking around here, it really would be more accurate.

Not that I get out much anymore. At 12, I’m a mature tabby, and really, keeping up this fine tiger-striped coat takes a good deal of time. No, I leave the adventures, such as they are, to Pru. She’s half in love with that old muscle car of hers, anyway, driving around this little podunk – excuse me, scenic – Berkshires town. And now that she can hear us, she’s always getting in trouble. Saving the animals, she calls it. Saving humans from themselves is more like it, though, yes, I’ll admit it. Sometimes my fellow quadrupeds do need a human hand to help them out.

Take this Persian, for example. Now, as a proper cat, I have little use for those flat faces. But this girl? I don’t care about the gun powder in her white fur – she could bathe, you know. I don’t believe she shot her person. From what I hear about the other humans in that household – that scolding wife, the pretty but vapid “aide” – I think old Donal was the best of the bunch. At any rate, a gun – even a rare antique dueling pistol – is not a weapon for a cat. No, I think Pru may be right on this one. I think someone has framed that cat. You humans have an expression, something about a “cat’s paw,” don’t you?

Still, couldn’t Pru leave it to Jim Creighton, that handsome young cop? I like the way he pets me, smoothing my thick fur down right. He likes her, too, though she can be a bit odd around lawmen. Maybe it’s because of her history. She’s been a bit of a wild one. Maybe it’s because her ex is in town. Now he’s feisty, a regular old tomcat. I don’t know what his connection is with the Persian, or with that gun, but I’m sure Pru will figure it out. I’ll help, of course. After my nap.



This blog originally ran on Dru's Book Musings: http://notesfromme.wordpress.com/2012/04/11/wallis-the-tabby-by-clea-simon/

Gun? What gun?

"That ain't mine." Here it is, the real final (sans a review quote) cover for Cats Can't Shoot, the second Pru Marlowe pet noir, out April 3, 2012.

Kindling Dulcie!

Yes! Dulcie and Mr Grey are going to be ebooks. My upcoming - Grey Expectations - will be released as an ebook about eight months after publication (next fall, probably). But my lovely publisher is working to get the first three mysteries - Shades of Grey, Grey Matters, and Grey Zone - into ebook by the holidays! Yay! And yes, Dogs Don't Lie is already available in a kindle edition. Ereaders rejoice! (And now I no longer have to feel conflicted about having one).

Wow - Thank you, Richmond Times-Dispatch!

I was honored to have both of my new books reviewed in the Sunday Richmond Times-Dispatch. Book critic Jay Strafford got the difference in voice, the difference in characters, and he liked 'em both. THANK YOU!!

Mysteries: Felines, canines and plotlines

By JAY STRAFFORD
Published: April 03, 2011

Anyone who has ever been the human companion of an animal, particularly of a dog or a cat, knows that inter-species communication is no myth. This reviewer knows a Chihuahua who becomes ecstatic and zips into the kitchen at the words "cottage cheese." And we all have been made aware in hard times how our pets realize instinctively that we need comforting.

Which brings us to Boston-area crime novelist Clea Simon, who infuses her mysteries with human-pet interaction and whose books are models of the whodunit genre. In a somewhat rare occurrence, she has published two books simultaneously, one the continuation of a series and the other the beginning of one.

"Grey Zone," the third entry in the series featuring Harvard grad student Dulcie Schwartz, finds our heroine still working on her doctoral thesis, still teaching undergraduates, still missing her beloved late cat, Mr. Grey (who's known to remain communicative), and still growing accustomed to Esmé, her new kitten.

But life isn't all purrs and research. Her new faculty adviser scoffs at the direction her work seems to be going: Dulcie is now trying to prove not only the identity of the 18th-century novelist she's studying but also that the mysterious woman was murdered. Then there's the problem of the Harvard Harasser, who's making life miserable for female students.

Meanwhile, a former student of Dulcie's, Carrie Mines, goes missing, and a psychology professor, Fritz Herschoft, appears to have taken a dive out his office window. But the cops rule out suicide, and a plethora of Dulcie's pals are among the suspects.

Dulcie, of course, is too inquisitive — and she cares too much for her friends — to simply leave matters to the police. In doing so, she risks her life. But in the end, Mr. Grey and Esmé come through, and all comes right.

Simon's talent sparkles in a true puzzler, Dulcie shines with sympathy, and the story stresses the gravity of sexual harassment.

"Grey Zone" shows again that the animals in our lives are much more than our pets. It's a lesson that they know innately and prove every moment of their — and our — lives.



* * * * *



Fans of Gary Larson's "The Far Side" comic strip are likely to remember his parody of "Perry Mason," in which a cow leaps up in the back of a courtroom and says, "All right, I confess! I did it! That's right! The cow! Ha ha! And I feel great!"

In "Dogs Don't Lie," the opener in Simon's projected series featuring animal behaviorist Pru Marlowe, it's not a cow but a pit bull who's the suspect.

Pru, who's 33, has returned to her hometown in western Massachusetts after finding her New York City life a bit overwhelming. And she's not just a behaviorist; she's an animal psychic who can hear what animals are saying (and they can hear and communicate with her, too).

Far-fetched? Not really, given Simon's emphasis on strong women and animals in her books. This time, Pru has been training Lily, a pit bull rescued by computer programmer Charles "Chuck" Harris from a life of abuse. But when Pru visits Charles' house for a training session with him and Lily, she finds a horrifying scene: a dead Charles, his throat ripped out, and a distraught Lily, her muzzle covered with blood.

Pru is convinced of Lily's innocence and sets out to prove it (with some timely help from her senior tabby cat, Wallis — and, when the cops get doubly suspicious — her own). As is her wont, Simon peppers "Dogs Don't Lie" with a cast of credible culprits. Was the real killer Delia Cochrane, who claimed to be Chuck's fiancée, or Mack Danton, Chuck's business partner, or Chris Moore, Delia's previous boyfriend, or someone else entirely?

"Dogs Don't Lie" differs from "Grey Zone" — but not in ways that affect either's likability. Pru is independent, somewhat antisocial and fully smart-alecky, while Dulcie is none of the above. With that distinction driving the tone, "Dogs Don't Lie" has a more tongue-in-cheek feel.

With a clever plot, a surprising conclusion and another amiable heroine, "Dogs Don't Lie" has all the earmarks of the beginning of a successful series. It's a doggy departure from her body of work, but Simon brings her usual skills — and her great heart — to another story that animal lovers and mystery fans will lap up.

Wow, thank you, Robin Agnew

"[C]risp writing and polished plot are a pleasure from start to finish." – Robin Agnew on Dogs Don't Lie.

Can a book with a cat be taken seriously? (Answer: yes).

"While I often am approached by writers wanting to send me ARCs and have me read, possibly review them, and certainly try to sell them, it’s not often that I say “yes,” send the ARC, and less often when I actually read and enjoy them. However, such was the charm and erudition of author Clea Simon (who I hadn’t heard of, despite the fact that she had nine books to her credit) that I agreed to an ARC. ..." read more here.

Robin Agnew is the owner of the marvelous indie, Aunt Agatha's Mystery Books, in Ann Arbor, MI. This is from the blog "Hey, There's a Dead Guy in My Living Room."