This is the 9th vignette for the book, A Twinkle in the Eyes of God, A Monk Buttman Mystery. In it are characters from the book, and is meant to add a little backstory to it.

Chester Jenkins called me over. His son Farrell, and my daughter Rebekah, were engaged and soon to be married. Apparently, this gave him license to pester me about my affairs. I knew of Chess and his boys, Carroll and Darrell, from the feed store they ran in town.

“Looks like we’ll be family soon, Will,” he said, stating the obvious.

“Looks like,” I said.

He offered his hand as a token of that abiding soon to be connection. I noticed his hands were clammy.

“Jude Martindale was in here the other day,” he said.

“Was he?”

“Yep. Askin’ about this and that…” He raised his eyebrows.

“Most of us, do, Chess.”

“I spose.” He looked up at me from the counter where he was shuffling papers. “Asked me what I thought about Farr marrying Becky, something about whether she had her father’s temper…” He grinned at that.

I grinned back. “What’d you tell him?”

“Well, I don’t think Becky’s quite as ornery, that’s all. I mean, no offense, Will, but sometimes you kinda worry folks.” He continued to grin.

“Sometimes,” I agreed, “but Farrell’s not marrying me, so it shouldn’t be a problem.”

“That’s good cuz I don’t cotton to men marrying men.” He thought that was cute.

“Not many around here do, Chess. Did Judah Martindale have any other concerns about me and mine?” I was no longer grinning. I was hearing more talk from folks than I wanted to about what might be going on with Astral and Judah Martindale.

“He did mention you had an attractive wife…”

“Just brought that up did he?”

Chester Jenkins’ grin grew sheepish as he took a step back. “I may have mentioned Farr found him a good looker, that’s all. I mean Lilith is an good looking woman, Will.”

“Yes, she is, Chess.”

Darrell wandered in from the back of the store. “Load’s in the truck, Mr. Bohrman.”

“Thanks. Anything else?” I asked.

“No,” Chess said as Darrell walked away. “Pell says just about everything’s ready for the weddin’. Weather’s sposed to be good and all. I guess we’ll see you then?”

“I guess.” I turned to go.

“You know I don’t mean nothin’ by any of that, just talk, that’s all.” He was still a step back behind the counter.

“Sure, Chess,” I assured him.

“Goin’ be good eatin’, Will,” he said, as I opened the door to leave.

“Probably the only reason he going,” I told myself.

©2020 David WIlliam Pearce

This is the 8th vignette for the book, A Twinkle in the Eyes of God, the new Monk Buttman Mystery. In this one, Monk visits his friend, Duane. Unfortunately, Monk, then known as William, is not on good terms with Duane’s wife, Leslie.

I very cautiously knocked, well aware that Duane’s wife, Leslie, would not be happy to see me at her door. She considered me a bad influence, along with Carleton, on her husband. And truth be told, I kinda was. Then there was the matter of my outburst the last time I was in her company when the subject was a wife’s fidelity to her husband’s wishes came up. I don’t remember what prompted the conversation, only that due too my deteriorating home life I’d made a complete ass of myself.

And not for the first time.

Leslie Jorgenson, arms crossed after she opened the door part way, glared at me.

“Um, I came to apologize about my behavior, Leslie. I’m sorry for what I did and I promise to be more respectful in the future,” I said, hoping she would believe me. And I did mean it; it’s just that sometimes I don’t think before I blurt.

Leslie’s glare did not diminish. “Duane’s out back, Will.”

“Thanks.” I stepped back, getting ready to walk around the house.

Leslie stepped onto the porch. “One more thing, Will Bohrman,” she said, her hands now on her hips. “I hear anymore nasty comments out of your mouth and you’ll find a load a buckshot in your behind! Do we understand each other?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

I slowly backed away knowing she’d probably like to shoot me right here and now.

Duane and Carleton were, as Leslie said, out back standing next to Duane’s new toy. It was a sleek speedboat with a blue sparkling paint job and silver sparkling stripes down the side. It had a white interior and two big Evinrude outboard motors hanging off the end.

Duane handed me a beer as I passed him, my hand following the contours of the boat. “Man!” was all that came out of my mouth.

“Sweet, huh?” he said.

“I don’t know,” I answered, as I checked out the motors. “Looks like a good way to get yourself killed.”

“Christ Will, don’t be such a wuss. You sound like Leslie,” he said.

Carleton laughed at that. “Speaking of the devil, I’m surprised she let you back on the property?”

“Outside of threatening to shoot me, Leslie and I are on the best of terms,” I assured them.

Both burst out laughing.

“Anyway,” I said, trying to limit their mirth at my expense, “I’m surprised Leslie let you buy this in the first place.”

Duane shook his head. “That’s because you’ve forgotten how to charm a woman, dumbass.”

“It’s not that I haven’t tried,” I whined.

That only produced more laughter.

“It’s not funny, goddammit!” I tried to sound tough, mainly or because both Carleton and Duane were bigger than me and hardly concerned I might be a threat.

“All right, no need to get your panties in a bunch, Will.” Carleton took a swig of his beer. “Just havin’ a little fun’s all.”

“And,” Duane added, “if Leslie hears you going off, she might well indeed shoot your ass!”

They laughed at that too.

I did the only smart thing I could think of and climbed up into the boat. I figured that was more interesting than once again plowing through the wasteland of Willie’s failing marriage. It did the trick.

Duane’s enthusiasm could not be contained, and soon he and Car were in the boat with me as he pointed to every feature the boat had. His girls came out demanding a ride in daddy’s new boat, while Leslie stood on the back porch, her arms again crossed and a scowl on her face. Duane took notice.

“You always bring out the best in Leslie, Will,” he chided.

I shrugged while looking over at Duane’s less than thrilled wife. “Maybe the girl’s are right; time to take this baby out.”

I figured the boat was a better way out than buckshot.

©2020 David William Pearce

This is the 7th vignette for book, A Twinkle in the Eyes of God, which was released 1/9/20 by Black Rose Writing. Moses is Monk’s father and one of the founders of the commune on which Monk grew up. Monk and Moses have a somewhat contentious relationship.

As a creature of habit, those habits betrayed me when I sought solitude. The old asparagus crate supported my butt as I leaned against the barn and watched the sun drift behinds the clouds to the west. It was peaceful and quiet and reminded me of my time alone sitting in the cabana in Virginia.

Like Virginia, it made it easier to be here on the farm.

Unfortunately, like Virginia, it was all too easy to find me, irrespective of my desire for solitude.

“I thought I might find you here.”

I looked to see my father, Moses, leaning against the corner of the barn.

“You know you’re welcome to join us? You don’t have to hide away,” he continued, a smile on his face.

“I’m not hiding away,” I said, “just enjoying a moment of solitude.”

He looked up at the clouds that had my attention. “Mind if I join you?”

I shook my head no.

He retreated and returned with a crate of his own, which he placed next to mine. He sat down and for a few uncomfortable moments we listened to the birds doing whatever it is birds do.

“It one of the reasons we came out here,” he said at last.

“What?”

“Solitude. Quiet.”

Moses, like my mother, Rebekah, was the product of a strict religious family that disdained the city and its evident vices. Naturally, as children of the 60’s, they rebelled and liberated themselves from the suffocating conservatism of the countryside and wallowed in the crapulence of the city with all those long-haired hippies and their radical ideas. The country never really left them, and so with the Mackinaw brothers and some others, they found themselves here in the wilds of Northern California. I often wondered if my mother would have remained had it not been for Moses’, at the time, ideas about love and sex, and his producing children with Meredith.

Thinking of my mother, as I knew her in Virginia, I couldn’t picture her staying either way.

“Don’t you tire of the city? The noise? All the people?” he asked, as he had every time I was dragged up here by Agnes.

“Nope,” was my answer each time, which I knew frustrated him.

“Yet I find you here enjoying what you can’t have in that hellhole of Los Angeles,” he harrumphed as he had many times before.

“Each has it own unique charms,” I assured him, whether he believed it or not.

“We seem to have reached our usual impasse on this.”

“We have,” I agreed.

A group of goats were aimlessly wandering around a fenced enclosure to our right. Maybe they sensed Moses’ presence and had expectations they did with my being near. I was perfectly content with that.

“Do you miss your farm?” he asked as the goat continued meandering our way.

“Nope.” That wasn’t entirely true, but I liked to goad him on the subject.

“I don’t believe you. Both Lilith and Rebekah told me you were good at it, that you put a lot of time and energy into it.” His turn to goad me.

“What else did I have to do?” which was true.

Moses sighed.

Which made me smile, which he noticed.

“You’re just like your mother sometimes, Sunshine,” he said smiling back.

It was my turn to sigh.

©2020 David William Pearce

This is the 6th vignette for the book, A Twinkle in the Eyes of God. In this one, Monk, then known as William, is forced by his mother ,Rebekah, and his wife, Astral, to speak with Pastor Davis about his rapidly deteriorating home life.

The church was quiet. It was a Thursday and I had summoned all of my patience, but nothing seemed to dissipate the anger I felt welling up inside me. I didn’t want to be angry with Pastor Davis, but I was already angry with Astral and my mother for ambushing me with this meeting I wanted no part of.

I had stopped by at my mother’s house to talk to them.

“This is important, William,” my mother told me, her finger pointed at my heart. “Your soul is in peril and I’d be some kind of mother if I let you throw that away.”

“Please, Will,” Astral added, but with little emotion.

Motion. We had so little of it anymore.

“I have no desire to speak with Pastor Davis,” I whined.

“We’re well aware of that, William, but it can’t hurt to speak to him. Isn’t your marriage important to you?” My mother continued to bore in on me.

I looked at the two of them, liking neither at the moment. I was tired and lonely, and only wanted a little affection from my wife, who had avoided me for too long.

“And would it hurt to trim that mangy beard,” my mother added, adding insult to injury.

“Oh, for chrissakes, mother—”

“William!”

“What?”

“Why is this so difficult for you?” Rebekah Altonberg raised her voice, unusual for the tightly control woman she’s become since leaving California.

“Because I’m the one who has to do it!”

I stormed off to the church.

Pastor Davis was in his office. Melanie Flowers, who ran the day-to-day operations of the church, pinched her lips and pointed to the door.

“Thanks,” I said, none too cheerily.

Pastor Davis stood up as I opened the door. “William, have a seat, won’t you.”

I grumbled, but sat down.

The pastor took his seat and put his hands to his lips, a habit I’d noticed many times before, but now cared for even less. “I understand your mother asked you to speak with me,” he said.

“That too is my understanding,” I answered.

The Pastor’s brows furrowed then rose as his shoulders fell. “I agreed to speak to you, William, because she asked me to, though I worried it would be of no value, and based on your attitude that opinion hasn’t changed. Yet here you are. So let me ask you this: what is it you want, William?”

“I want my wife to sleep with me, Pastor Davis, that’s what I want.”

I expected shock or a stony look to greet my outburst. Instead, he smiled at me. “And you think I can help with that, do you?”

“Yes,” I said.

The Pastor once again put his hands to his lips. “Do you believe if I were to ask her to do this, she would?”

“No,” I answered. It was my turn to smile, though it was hardly a winning one. “I’m sorry, Pastor Davis, I shouldn’t be angry with you or God or Astral—”

“Astral?”

“Sorry, Lilith.” I looked past the pastor to the window and the fields beyond. Tears rolled down my face, soaking into my mangy beard. “I don’t know that there’s anything you can do, and I don’t think it’s fair for my mother or wife to press you to do so. You and I have argued enough about God and all of that, and I won’t be a hypocrite and lie to you that I’ve had some big change of heart…” I wiped ay my eyes hoping the tears would stop. Instead they only flowed more freely. “I love my wife, I do, but I can’t be something I’m not.” I wiped again, soaking the sleeve of my work shirt.

Pastor Davis held out his box of tissues.

“I’m sorry, I…”

“Don’t be sorry, William,” he said, putting the box at the edge of the desk. “I’m not asking you to be something you’re not. I only ask that you look to God for answers in your own way. If I didn’t, then wouldn’t I be a hypocrite as well?” He sat back and pondered the crying man before him. “Normally, I would suggest that you and I and Lilith get together to talk this through, but we’ve been down that road. And while I pray that road has promise, the three of us have been down it many times already.”

The light outside the window was fading. I put my head in my hands to hide the tears that refused to stop. Pastor Davis leaned forward, his forearms set upon the desk.

“William?”

I shook my head.

“It’s not good to be so angry. I know you say you don’t believe, but give God a chance, if for nothing more than to release you from this terrible sorrow you feel. Maybe then you can find your way with Lilith.”

Pastor Davis rose from his desk and put his hand on my shoulder.

“God loves you, William.”

“Yes,” was all I could think to say.

I left by the side door of his office.

©2020 David William Pearce

This is the fifth short vignette written for the book, A Twinkle in the Eyes of God, A Monk Buttman Mystery. It involves Monk, then known as William, Astral, his wife, whom everyone else called Lilith (something Monk refused to do), and their daughter, Rebekah. Because much of the early part of the book is about Monk’s return to Virginia and his uneasy relationship with the people there, this vignette is meant to illustrate some of that history.

We were sitting in the cabana I’d finished the day before. It was a Sunday afternoon. We’d returned from church and were having a snack looking out across the fields where I spent the majority of my time. In the distance the Appalachian Mountains rose. It was a fine day, warm with a quiet breeze rolling north. Rebekah went from one place on the bench across from Astral and I to another. She was almost ten and seemed incapable of sitting still.

“Eat your apple, Becky.” Astral was losing patience with her daughter.

I pointed to the seat across from me. “Becky…”

Rebekah Bohrman stared at me before slumping on her seat and picked at her plate of sliced apples.

“When can I have a baby brother?” she blurted out.

I looked at Astral who looked at me.

“The babies come when God tells them it’s time,” Astral told her.

Rebekah frowned. “Jenny Gunther has two brothers and two sisters. I don’t have any.”

“That’s not the way the world works, Becky,” I said.

“Then how does it work?”

I was tempted to admit I had no idea. I was also tempted to tell her that her mother and I had been trying for years to have another child to no avail. Astral must have sensed my desire to blurt something out.

“Every family is different,” Astral told her. “While the Gunther’s have five kids, the Sibley’s don’t have any.

Rebekah was unmoved. “You still love each other, don’t you?”

We both nodded.

“Well, that’s what Mrs. Brice at bible study says is all you need,” she huffed.

“It takes more than just love, Becky,” I said, not knowing where that comment would take us.

It was Astral’s turn to frown. “I’m sure Mrs. Brice means well, but,” Astral elbowed me in the ribs, “the rest of it is for moms and dads to take care of.” Astral leaned towards Rebekah. “Why are you so interested in having a brother or sister—”

“I want a baby brother!”

Astral didn’t like being interrupted. “Please let me finish, Rebekah Bohrman!”

Rebekah Bohrman slumped down.

“Babies are a big deal,” Astral continued, “and God wants what’s best for them and I know he’ll gives us one when the time is right. You understand that, don’t you?”

Rebekah crossed her arms and stared at her mother.

“Right?” Astral insisted.

Rebekah looked at me. I shrugged, which made Astral frown.

“William!”

“Your mother’s right, Becky. When the time is right,” I said. It was too nice a day to argue as Pastor Davis had admonished earlier in church.

Rebekah continued to frown.

“It’s not fair,” she grumbled to herself.

“It never is,” I said to myself.

A Twinkle in the Eyes of God will be release on 1/9/2020 by Black Rose Writing.

2020 David WIlliam Pearce

This is the 4th of the vignettes for the new book in the Monk Buttman series, A Twinkle in the Eyes of God. Emily is a little girl who lives at the commune started by Monk’s father, Moses. Monk helps her when he comes to visit with Agnes.

The apotheosis of a man’s fate lies in the garden of a young girl. That’s what I tell myself every time I return to the farm and find myself in the clutches of my erstwhile overseer, Emily.

“Are you ready, Mr. Sunshine?” she would demand.

“Ready for what?” I would answer.

“You know,” she would say… and on and on.

“I think I should be helping do other things,” I would say to chide her.

“Moses says it’s best when you help me, Mr. Sunshine!”

I imagine Moses did.

Formalities having been given, we were off to our work.

The herb garden, Emily’s domain, was composed of four raised beds, ten feet by twenty, with three feet in between. For the most part, I was simple labor. It was the only time I wore blue jeans and a work shirt.

Agnes thought that was cute. “Oh, look at my little working man!” she would exclaim.

I would ignore her.

Having weeded, trimmed and culled the herbs, we sat on the corner of the northwest bed. Emily used this time to pepper me with questions.

“Do you like your brothers, Mr. Sunshine?”

“I don’t really know my brothers, Emily. Sterling was only seven when I left and Isaac was a baby. Jacob wasn’t even born yet. Why do you ask?”

“I have a sister and brother, but I don’t know them very well either. They’re my father’s kids,” she said.

“Then I guess he didn’t ask you first, huh?”

“No,” she admitted, rather sullenly.

The crows were squawking in the trees behind us.

“How come you were away so long? Was it bad? I heard the adults talking about you,” she said, as if that justified the question.

“Yes, people like to talk.”

She waited for me to actually answer her question.

I had no interest in answering.

“Well?” she tapped my leg.

“I don’t know that you’re old enough for me to explain…” I demurred.

“I’m very mature for my age,” she stated as a matter of fact. “Is it because you got your girlfriend pregnant?”

I laughed at that. “No. Well, I wasn’t proud of that, but that’s not the reason I left—”

“Then why?”

“You’re not going to let go of this are you?”

“No.”

“And if I don’t tell you? What will you do then?”

Emily crossed her arms and pondered this deep question. “I’ll keep asking,” she said.

“Interesting. What if I never answer?”

“Oh, I think you will, Mr. Sunshine, I think you will.”

Our test of wills continued.

©2019 David William Pearce

This is the third of the short vignettes for the new Monk Buttman mystery, A Twinkle in the Eyes of God, which will be released on 1/9/20. Carleton, is a friend of William Bohrman, Buttman’s name before he changed it. Lilith was William’s wife in Virginia.

“Well, what’d you do this time?” he asked.

I couldn’t tell if he was smiling or not. Once again, I’d spent the night sleeping off my miseries on Carlton Hinsman’s porch.

“Did my wife call?” I asked, trying to remember the night before.

Carleton laughed. “Shit, man, I think by now she knows better than that.”

“So that’s a no?”

“That’s a no.” He rubbed his chin as I sat up.

My head wasn’t screaming so it wasn’t too much booze that drove me here. “Well, I’m not hungover, so must have been another fight,” I said, pushing the hair out of my eyes.

I heard Car sigh. “I’m not gonna ask, but I am gonna say, word’s out about Judah Martindale hanging around Lilith, but I think you know already and that’s why you’re here.”

The bells, naturally, went off. And with them I was back in the kitchen of my house screaming at Astral, who was Lilith to everyone else. I called her a lot of terrible things; things I couldn’t bear to repeat. Car sighed again and sat down next to me on the bench swing.

“Ok, we were fighting about that goddamned Judah Martindale,” I said. “I stormed out and lost track of time. Evidently I was close and borrowed the bench here.”

Carleton stared at me for an uncomfortable amount of time.

“I know it don’t seem right, and ordinarily, I’d say you got the town on your side in this with another man playing on your woman and all, but we both know that ain’t true. The ugly truth is people are blaming you—”

“Me?”

Car lightly smacked the back of my head, and from a big guy, that was enough. “Yeah, you, and you know it. You’ve pissed off just about everyone from the Rev on down. And that includes me and Duane. Shit, we can’t even go to his house anymore because you had to act like an ass to Leslie.” He smacked me again just because. “Am I getting through to you here?”

“Yeah,” I answered quietly.

“You need to figure this out, man. I know bustin’ up is tough; I’ve been through it, but it’s got to be better than ending up on my porch.”

“I don’t want to leave her,” I mumbled.

Car sighed again. “She don’t love you, man. Face it. I didn’t like it when Brenda told me, and that’s the truth, pain or no pain. That’s life. You need to own up, Willie. You can’t spend your life sleeping on my porch.”

“No? I’m kinda used to it now; home away from home.”

Car laughed. “Maybe, but it’s no way to live.” He got up and stretched. “I got work to do and so do you. Crops don’t give a shit about your marital affairs.”

“No?” I was hoping they did.

“No!” he said. “Need a ride?”

It was my turn to say, “No.”

©2019 David William Pearce

This is the second vignette for the book, A Twinkle in the Eyes of God, A Monk Buttman Mystery, which will be released on 1/8/20. It concerns Monk’s contentious relationship with his mother, Rebekah. Monk is leaving. In Virginia, Monk was known as William Bohrman.

I remember sitting in the Falcon, not wanting to go in. I was at the house of my mother, Rebekah Altonberg, and her husband, Donald. Donald I had just left, having signed over my worldly possessions to Judah Martindale now that he had successfully taken my wife, Astral, from me. Donald was a banker by trade and Judah was buying my half of the farm.

My head hurt.

I found my mother sitting on her back porch, enjoying, I assumed, her garden and peach trees. She looked me up and down as I approached her, a grimace on her face.

“Is it all finished now?” she asked.

“Yes,” I said. My life here is finished now. “I’m here to say goodbye, mother.”

“Are you? It seems to me you said goodbye a long time ago.” She arched her eyebrows before returning her gaze to the grove of peach trees in the distance.

I wondered if she knew how much she sounded like her mother, the imperious Sarah Durrock, a woman I met at the end of her life and who was as unforgiving as my mother would come to be.

“I didn’t come here to argue with you,” I said.

She shook her head. “Yes, of course, say your goodbyes and run away. You’ve become very good at that, William.”

“Why shouldn’t I be? I come from very fine stock when it comes to running away.”

Rebekah Altonberg snorted. “Yes, very clever, except your father made something of himself as did I. You’ve done little other than to destroy your marriage and your family.”

My hands balled into fists. “I’m surprised. Those are the first kind words I’ve heard you say about Moses since I’ve been here. And what of my family? You left me when I was ten, so the sermonizing only comes off as self-serving.” I walked round to face her. “I’m well aware of how my marriage has fallen apart, and even though you seem oblivious to it, it does hurt, painfully.”

My mother’s face softened, a little. “Did you try, William? Really try? That’s what hurts me, because I don’t see it.” Her face tightened. “What I see is a man who talks a lot, but does little but brood. Lilith waited and waited for you to come to her, and did you?” She waved her hand as if hoping it had the power to change or remove me. “Is it any wonder she’s left you? And your daughter?”

“Becky has her own life with Farrell,” I answered as if that made my leaving any better.

“Yes, that’s right, what good are you to her now?”

For a moment I had the urge to strike, to scream. The ache knotting my skull continued to twist. I took a step towards her and stopped.

“I just came to say goodbye, mother.”

Rebekah Altonberg, her clinched unsmiling face staring at me was nothing like Becky, the free spirit I once knew as my mother long ago on a commune in the hills of Northern California. The hair that had once flowed along her shoulders was now tightly knotted to the top of her head. No doubt her head ached too, but for different reasons, or maybe the same: her son, William Bohrman, was a failure.

“So you said. Goodbye, William. May God be with you.”

God.

Yes, God was with me as the tears streamed down my face, all the way back to California.

©2019 David William Pearce

This is the first in a series of short vignettes to support the new book in the Monk Buttman series, A Twinkle in the Eyes of God.

She had me cornered. Trapped.

“I need my kisses, Sunshine,” she said, pressing herself against me.

“Kisses?”

“Don’t play dumb with me, Buttman, you know the rules regarding kisses.” Agnes’ lips were perilously close to mine.

“I don’t know that I do, beautiful. Perhaps you should refresh my memory.” I kissed her just because.

“Nice try.” She kissed me back. “And why didn’t you pick me up? I had to ask one of the boys to do it!” Agnes worked about two miles away, for Johnny D, a financier both legitimate and otherwise.

I feigned surprise. “The goons brought you home?”

Agnes frowned. “Johnny doesn’t hire goons, Monk.”

“My apologies.” I kissed her again along her neck. “I was finishing up here at your house—”

“Our house,” she corrected me while tilting her head. It was easier to continue kissing her neck that way.

“Sorry, our house. As I was saying,” while kissing, “I was finishing up with the landscape guys. You did notice the work they did, didn’t you?”

“Of course I did,” she lied.

“So you like what they did with the grass?”

“Sure; very nice.”

I decided to wait till later to mention all the grass had been removed. I didn’t care for grass, or I should say lawn; there were ornamental grasses here and there throughout the yard.

“I also reorganized the kitchen and closets. You don’t mind, do you?” I asked as I reached her collarbone.

“Why would I mind?”

“It’s your house,” I said.

“Our house…”

“Sorry, our house. Do you like what I’ve done?” I returned to her delightful lips.

“Sure; very nice,” she said between kisses.

“You didn’t look.”

“I did.”

“Your eyes are closed, beautiful.” I was smiling as I continued.

Agnes pulled away slightly, opened her eyes, quickly looked from side to side before returning to yours truly. “Very nice. Happy now?”

“I’m not unhappy,” I assured her.

“Good,” she said as she closed the closet door, “and no more interruptions, Sunshine.”

“Yes dear.”

Apparently, home is where the kisses are.

©2019 David WIlliam Pearce

I wrote Where Fools Dare to Tread on a lark. It started as a way to breakout of a hole I’d dug writing another book-still on the backburner-that I didn’t quite feel I could pull off. But I had too good a time writing Where Fools Dare to Tread and when that was finished, promptly thought, “Well, where does he, Monk Buttman, go now?”

Having already run him around LA and northern California, the thought occurred that maybe it was time for him, reluctantly, to face his past, which brought him back to California after his marriage to Astral-Lilith to everyone not named Monk-fell apart. And because his time in Virginia presented him with the demands of family and faith, I decided that would be a good direction in which to go. Lots of fertile ground when God and family are invoked.

Throw in an unhappy daughter with whom he has a fraught relationship and a new girlfriend curious about what he’d been doing all those years ago, and I was off and running.

A few suspicious deaths along the way didn’t hurt either, so to speak.

Now it may be said that sequels and series are a cheap way to go, after all the characters are already know, sort of, and that construction is finished, so off we go on another adventure. Perhaps, but most characters can’t be fleshed out in one book unless they tend to be vessels for social criticism or mere vehicles for stories about people doing foolish things and getting bumped off.

I liked the idea of adding more depth to the main character, our Monk Buttman, through his past and present colliding and a fuller picture of his life emerging. His image of himself inevitably will clash with how others, notably family and friends, remember his trials and tribulations.

And it gets him out of his comfort zone, which he is not happy about.

I will be posting vignettes for the new book over the next few months.

A Twinkle in the Eyes of God, A Monk Buttman Mystery will be released 1/9/20 by Black Rose Writing. It can be pre-ordered here.

©2019 David WIlliam Pearce