The Last Thing She Said (A Chris Matheson Cold Case Mystery #3) by Lauren Carr

Category: Adult Fiction (18 +), 386 pages

Genre: Mystery

Publisher: Acorn Book Services

Release date: July 22, 2019

Synopsis

“I’m working on the greatest mystery ever,” was the last thing noted mystery novelist Mercedes Livingston said to seven-year-old Chris Matheson before walking out of Hill House Hotel never to be seen again.

For decades, the writer’s fate remained a puzzling mystery until an autographed novel and a letter put a grown-up Chris Matheson on the trail of a cunning killer. With the help of a team of fellow retired law enforcement officers, each a specialist in their own field of investigation, Chris puts a flame to this cold case to uncover what had really happened that night Mercedes Livingston walked out of Hill House Hotel. Watch out! The clues are getting hot!

Guest Post

Meet Doris Matheson – Not Your Average Grandmother

By Lauren Carr

I’m a people watcher. I was really no fun back in my single days because instead of listening to my dates, I would be spying to the strangers at the next table in an effort to figure them out. After almost thirty years of marriage, my husband knows what’s happening when he sees that look in my eye, when I become more interested in a particularly juicy exchange happening at the next table. That’s when he’ll break out his cell phone to text our son, “She’s doing it again.”

My favorite part of being a writer is finding new characters and exploring their minds and backgrounds to figure out what makes them tick. I enjoy presenting the character to the readers as a whole, and then, through the story, I slowly peel back the layers to show the reader what is underneath—who that character really is.

Admittedly, I knew while writing Ice that some readers may think I was pushing the envelope with Doris Matheson, who is not your average grandmother. No, Doris is not a hipster, who dances to disco, rides around on a motorcycle, or chases men. Rather, she is a strong, compassionate woman whose tuna casserole can be considered a weapon.

While going through the edits for Ice, I felt a sense of recognition when reading the mother and son exchanges. It wasn’t until I was proofreading my latest mystery that it hit me.

Doris Matheson is my mother!

I had no idea while creating the character of Chris’s sixty-five-year-old mother, a spunky, take charge library director, that I had based her on my own mother, who had passed away the year before. To tell you the truth, I don’t know if it was by accident or my subconscious at work.

Like Doris, my mother was an avid reader, particularly of murder mysteries. Actually, to tell you the truth, if the book didn’t have a dead body in it, my mother wasn’t interested. She went to school in a one-room school house. Even though she didn’t attend college, she had common sense and wasn’t shy about sharing it with her children.

A beautiful blonde, my mother was also a farm girl, who was a regular at all of the libraries in our small town. One librarian told me that behind her back, everyone called her “that beautiful lady.” She was truly a lady, who conducted herself with class. A widow, she had more dates than I did when I was in high school.

But my mother was no push-over. Every time we have to buy a new vehicle, my husband recalls when we bought our first car together as a married couple. Since my mother worked for General Motors, she and her family had an employee discount. Finding the best deal in her area, Jack and I traveled to Ohio and sat in silence while Mom haggled with the salesman. Through each issue, the salesman would relent with a groan and “Oh, Beryl.” She even made sure we left that dealership with a full tank of gas.

That strength of character is evident in this scene from The Last Thing She Said in which Doris and Elliott, a fellow member of the Geezer Squad to a club to question the club owner, a suspect in the cold case they are investigating:

“Why can’t I be the bad cop?” Doris asked Elliott after they had parked his SUV in the parking lot of Kyle Billingsley’s night club.

“Because getting arrested for assault is not on my bucket list.” Elliott opened the driver’s door and slid out. He went around to the passenger side to open Doris’s door. “We promised Chris that we were only going to talk to him again to see if he can give us more information. Helen seems to think he knows more than he’s saying. Chris believes he’s a patsy. Our job is to find out which it is.”

“Chris believes in giving everyone the benefit of the doubt,” Doris said with a frown.

“Don’t you?”

“Not when they try to come between me and the love of my life.”

Elliott sighed. “Why do I have the feeling we’re not talking about Kyle Billingsley anymore?”

At lunchtime, it was too early for the night club to open. Finding the front doors locked, Elliott peered through the plate glass windows in search of someone to let them inside while Doris disappeared around the corner.

Upon realizing she was gone, Elliott rushed into the alley just in time to see her slip through the employee entrance. “Doris! You get back here!” he ordered in a stage whisper to catch her attention while not alerting the workers unloading produce from a food delivery truck. As he drew closer to the door, he pressed his body against the wall to stay out of sight until they turned their backs long enough for him dash inside.

“Doris!” He searched the work area littered with sound equipment, furniture, and cases of alcohol. “Where are you?” He finally caught sight of her through an open doorway in which a case of Mexican beer acted as a door stop. “There you are.” He took her arm by the elbow. “What do you think you’re doing?”

She wrested out of his grasp. “I’m looking for Kyle Billingsley. We have to find him before we can talk to him.”

A muscle-bound man in a tank top stood up from where he had been working in a cupboard behind the bar. When Bart saw the couple standing before him, he almost jumped out of his boots. “How did you get in here?”

“Through the side door,” Doris said. “You really need to hire better help. There’s no telling what kind of riff-raff could walk in off the streets.”

Bart laid his huge hands flat on the bar.

“We’re looking for Kyle Billingsley,” Elliott said.

“Who’s lookin’?”

“Weren’t you listening?” Doris stepped forward. “We’re looking for him.”

“And who the hell are you?” Bart reached into his pocket.

Recognizing the outline of a gun, Elliott reached into his pocket for his concealed weapon.

“Get your hands out of your pockets and stand up straight!” Doris snapped.

His eyes wide, Bart yanked his hands out of his pockets and held them up for her to see.

“Do you seriously think that my asking to see Mr. Billingsley would be grounds enough for you to take out that pathetic little concealed weapon of yours and shoot me? What type of idiot are you? Are you suicidal or just plain stupid?” She jerked her thumb in Elliott’s direction. “Do you really think you could get the both of us before he took you out? And we haven’t even begun to talk about manners. Were you raised by wolves or what? Shooting complete strangers is just plain rude. You didn’t even have the courtesy to ask for our names before you went reaching for that sorry little gun in your pocket. If you’re going to shoot someone, at least get their names first.”

“I’m sorry. I—I was just—I just—I had an itch.”

“An itch my foot!” Doris pointed at the door behind the bar. “Now, go get Mr. Billingsley.”

“But—”

“No buts. Shoo!” She flapped both hands at him.

Like an obedient child, Bart hurried through the door leading to the inner offices.

“I have a feeling if we had more mothers out walking the streets, violent crime would drop significantly,” Elliott said.

“I know if we had more mothers out on the streets that violent crime would drop significantly,” Doris said. “Unfortunately, there would also be a proportionate rise in lawsuits for being rude to felons.”

Kyle Billingsley tottered out from his office. Upon seeing their good friend’s older brother, Doris and Elliott were taken aback. With effort, they concealed their surprise.

Maybe Shannon was adopted, Doris thought as she took in the loose flesh on Kyle’s bony arms and legs and the potbelly. The pink hair fin on top of his head and matching earplugs didn’t help.

The jewels on the rings that adorned his fingers glinted off the bright lights in the lounge when he reached up to take the cigar out of his mouth. “Bart said you wanted to see me. What’s this about?”

Doris regrouped to respond. “I’m here about your sister Shannon. I believe you spoke to my son on Sunday. We have more questions.”

“What gives? I’d answered all of his questions.” Kyle turned in Bart’s direction and shook his cane at him. “Did you water down the scotch I gave him, Bart?”

The bartender vigorously shook his head. “No, sir.”

“Then what’d I do that he felt like he had to send his mother after me?”

“I don’t know, boss, but I wouldn’t mess with her if I was you.”

“If I were you,” Doris said to correct his grammar.

“What if you were me?”

“It’s if—”

Elliott cut Doris off by ushering her across the lounge to a table where Kyle was taking a seat.

 

Readers will find that Doris’s power is not due to wealth or political position. After all, she is only the director of a small library. Rather, she has earned the respect of those around her through intelligence, compassion, and strength.

Yep, that’s my mom. I can’t wait for you to meet her. You’re gonna love her.

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About the Author

Lauren Carr is the international best-selling author of the Thorny Rose, Mac Faraday, Lovers in Crime, and Chris Matheson Cold Case Mysteries—over twenty titles across four fast-paced mystery series filled with twists and turns!

Book reviewers and readers alike rave about how Lauren Carr seamlessly crosses genres to include mystery, suspense, crime fiction, police procedurals, romance, and humor.

Lauren is a popular speaker who has made appearances at schools, youth groups, and on author panels at conventions. She lives with her husband, and two spoiled rotten German shepherds on a mountain in Harpers Ferry, WV.

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