In just over three weeks, The Attercop will be released and I can’t wait to share this puzzling adventure with you. And one of the big mysteries in the book is … WHO is The Attercop? And what will happen to Declan and Charlie?
Writing The Declan Hunt Mysteries series has taught me that sometimes to get to the finished manuscript, I have to try out many possibilities. And when everything clicks into place, it is truly satisfying.
In the case of Mann Hunt, an editor wrote to me shortly after finishing the novel. She had read the book a second time and tracked all of the clues and red herrings with a ballpoint pen. Her conclusion? The mystery was possible to solve, but there were enough red herrings to make the ending uncertain, and for many it would be a surprise. Fortunately she felt the ending was fairly earned. I was delighted.
In the process of finding my way through the maze of possibilities for the characters and trying to find the most interesting path (which is not always the most direct path) … one can take a few wrong turns.
So, this week, I thought it would be fun to share one of the paths I followed that led me to both a figurative and a literal DEAD END. Below is a cut section from The Attercop that was written very early in the process. When I went back to it later, the tone was much darker than most of the novel. At the time, the central villain was called The Spider. It was only later, when the novel was named, that The Attercop came to be. And as for the scene itself … the arc for this secondary character over-complicated the story, so The Right Reverend Thomas O ’Neil never made it to the finished manuscript.
I promise, this excerpt will not spoil anything in the novel for you. And considering I have been talking about going through the maze of writing, this seemed a suitable choice from the many scenes that were ultimately removed. It is rough and ready (and unedited). So here is a dark and deleted bathhouse scene that only subscribers will get to see.
*****
Even though The Spider knew the place—he’d been a regular client for years—he cased the joint for a week getting to know the current clients’ schedules and patterns, as well as those of the few staff on duty. He knew that two PM was a slow time—the lunch crowd had headed back to work and the busy pre-dinner crowd hadn’t arrived. The afternoon was ideal for people who didn’t want to be out late at night, just like his intended victim.
The Spider was ready. He just had to wait for the fly—The Right Reverend Thomas O’Neil. Tom, to his friends.
He suspected Tom might have regular afternoon buddies who could be counted on for a good time. That’s how he’d met him originally, when The Spider was thinner and younger and impressionable. The Reverend liked them like that, although, not exclusively. Today, what The Spider had to do was make sure that he was the chosen one. Guys like Tom usually only had enough in them for one round.
The Greek bathhouse was almost empty, so The Spider went for a stroll through the labyrinthine halls. He wandered the maze, towel wrapped around his waist, covering his sizable bulge. He cut through the gym and video room where an old Jeff Stryker video played to no one, then back toward the steam room.
Where was he? Tom reputedly never missed a visit.
And then …there he was. Reverend O’Neil stepped out of his tiny rented cabin—a quaint name for a space that had a lockable door and enough floor space for a cot, a chair and a patch of bare tiled floor big enough to fit two pairs of feet.
Tom was still handsome—now in his mid-fifties, with salt and pepper hair neatly groomed. Too neatly, The Spider thought. The guy looked fake. Below the face he was not in great shape. But none of the folks he conned ever saw him like this, so he probably thought it didn’t matter.
It always matters, Tom. Everything you do matters and someone will always find you out.
Tom looked at him. The Spider could sense it—he would be the chosen one today. And why not? He looked a hundred times better than he ever had. So much better than before. The gym did that to you. And the steroids didn’t hurt. He’d been living at the gym for months getting ripped and cut.
The Spider waited, as spiders do, staring at their prey. He knew The Reverend wouldn’t be able to resist him.
Tom approached and copped a feel. He took a deep breath.
“Steam room—now,” The Spider whispered, knowing that in the past, the Reverend had liked to pretend to give up his power.
Tom reached for The Spider’s towel but he waggled his finger at him.
“What’s the rush?” The Spider asked. “You can unwrap your present when I tell you to. And don’t worry. You won’t be disappointed. No one ever is.”
The Spider led him into the empty steam room, and then pulled off the Reverend’s towel with enough force to spin him onto a bench. The Spider mopped his sweaty face and armpits with it then tossed it back at him.
“Sniff it,” The Spider ordered…and Tom obeyed.
The Spider knew he had him. He ladled another cup of water onto the rocks. Another cloud of steam rose into the air. The Spider reached around under his towel, finding the small remote device strapped to his inner right thigh. It had one button on it, which he depressed.
The detonations weren’t grand in scale, but they were effective and started large enough fires to block the two hallways leading to the steam room. One explosion came from the room The Spider had rented earlier, and the other was from the trash bin outside the washroom down the hall. In no time the tinder-dry wooden structure of the bathhouse had caught fire. Tom and Spider were trapped alone.
“We have to go,” the preacher yelled leaping toward the door.
The Spider grabbed him by the arm and yanked him back. “What’s wrong? Don’t you want to to see what I have under here,” he said, pulling off his towel. “You don’t remember me, do you? Of course you don’t. I was well under age back then. In here you said I was special, but when I approached you at the church to tell you I loved you, you denied knowing me. Then I found out that was your pattern. To use young men, and then to deny them. To deny your truth. How many boys did you hurt?”
The Reverend tried to push his way to the door, but The Spider was larger. He pinned the preacher to the wall pulling an ice-pick from the holster attached to his left thigh and drilled it deep into the preacher’s chest.
When The Spider left through the small window at the back that he had pried open hours before, he felt exhilarated. He quickly found his way down the back alley to where he had left a few clothes, then dressed and slipped away into the afternoon. He wasn’t sure if the Reverend’s body would survive the fire, but if it did, they might find the message he had carved into him. A clue to his identity. The shape of a small spider.
*****
For those who are concerned that the novel is dark and nasty … rest assured that the above chapter was probably the darkest, and it was cut. There are all of the standard Declan and Charlie interactions, and lots of whimsy, mixed around the danger.
In next week’s blog, I’m going to share some numbers. How many books have been sold, how many reviews, and what those Amazon numbers really mean. Until then, thanks for following my writing adventures.
Warmest Regards,
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