by macadmin | Dec 25, 2016 | Blog
Evening came early in winter to the little villages that lie in the foothills of the Zittau Mountains, where Germany meets its borders with Poland and Czechoslovakia. On Christmas Eve of 1937, snow had fallen heavily in the passes and on the mountains. The little villages it had turned into the perfect representations of dwellings from folktales of long ago. Those wealthy enough to own cars had solicitously shut them up in garages till the weather should turn – even the much lauded people’s car, the manufacturing miracle of the Volkswagen, was jealously protected from the sharp bite of the winter weather. Once more the older formers of transport came into their own – horses and oxen were turned out to pull wagons and carriages for those who needed to be abroad.
In contrast to the cold white world outside, the great stoves of the local homes ensured that inside was snug and cosy. Even the largest building in the village of Bad Bernsdorf, the famous Hotel de Saxe, glowed with inviting warmth and cheer.
Of course, the maintenance of such heat as radiated from the great enamel stoves in all the public rooms could not be maintained without considerable labour. And Frau Gutrun Blauer, the owner of the Hotel de Saxe, looked up and pursed her lips as she saw that Fritzel, her only son, had brought up a pile of logs to supply the stove in the Saal that formed the reception and waiting area of the hotel, with comfortable cushioned wooden chairs as well as her own desk.
“Why are you doing that?” she called to him crossly. “You should let Hans do that!”
Fritzel straightened, pushing his butter-coloured hair back from his forehead, and smiled at her. “Hans is chopping the wood,” he told her. “And I’ve finished all the accounts … Johan has the casino in good order too.”
She sniffed, as though reluctant to acknowledge he had acted for the best. But as he turned to add the last of the logs to the firebox, she gave him a look of maternal pride.
“You should spend some time at your books,” she said now. “There won’t be much work this evening, Liebchen. Apart from the casino … ”
He nodded as he came across to her and swung the book to look at the names of those already staying there.
Mr Chetwyn Glyde and Party;
Count Vasily Dolgorukov;
Franz von Essen.
Then there was the name Samantha Smith; the American woman who’d come a week earlier. And – according to Frau Blauer – spent far too much time distracting Johan the dealer in the casino. Apparently, she had told her son, with a dismissive sniff, she was Johan’s cousin.
Another guest staying was Ashton Sherman. He’d been staying for the last few days and spent his time out skiing round the local area
“There may be some more, Mutti,” Fritzel said, still examining the register. “There’s usually a few strays when the snow’s this heavy.”
Before he could say any more, the door from the Eingangshalle banged open and a tall, beautiful woman, swathed in furs and smelling of heavenly luxury in her scent, stalked into the room and across to the desk, ignoring Fritzel entirely.
“Where is he?” she demanded, speaking in English.
“Mr Glyde is in the Salon, Madame Nolan,” said Frau Blauer in the same language.
“Not him!” she snapped. “Olson! Where’s Olson?”
“I believe he has taken Fraulein Glyde for a walk to see the village houses in the snow,” said Fritzel.
Nellie Nolan fixed him with a withering glare, then swept her furs about her body in a magnificent gesture that would have them open-mouthed in the fifty cent seats, and stalked off in the direction of the Salon.
Fritzel and his mother exchanged speaking glances.
“What a temper!” she said.
Fritzel nodded, and then hesitated. “Yet don’t you think, Mutti, sometimes … the way she says something in German … I would almost call it a local accent.”
“Perhaps it’s something she’s picked up here,” suggested his mother. “Actresses, they say, have to have a good ear … ”
“Perhaps,” agreed Fritzel, but he sounded unconvinced.
“And so jealous of that poor little girl,” his mother went on. “It was kind of that Mr Olson to take her for a walk. It’s a quiet life she lives here!”
“Yes but … ” Fritzel began and then stopped. The church bells were ringing loudly – a wild, uncontrolled ringing. Fritzel and his mother stood frozen for a moment.
“Avalanche!” they said it together, and then Fritzel was racing for the door, grabbing the warm jacket and hat that hung on a peg beside it.
“Be careful!” his mother called. He paused only for the briefest nod, and then hurried away into the darkening evening.
As Fritzel bolted from the inn a blonde short haired woman hurried into the lobby from the direction of the casino. “Is everything all right?” Samantha Smith asked anxiously in English, looking toward the main doors. “I heard a dreadful noise,” she added in passable German, addressing Frau Blauer directly.
Samantha Smith was dressed in a nice but plain blue sweater and matching dark blue woolen slacks. Unlike Miss Nolan her makeup was restrained, and her manner far more hesitant. “Is there anything that needs to be done?” she asked the Frau deferentially.
“Nein, Fraulein,” said Frau Blauer. “The men will look after things.”
Without saying so, her tone implied that it was clearly no job for a woman.
Before she could say any more, the door swung open again.
“Hell’s bells!” came the intonated drawl as a man, dressed in a full waxed coat, hat and all the accoutrements of winter exclaimed as he stepped through the door. “What in all that’s godly’s name is that racket?!” A Texan drawl, no less. At least Jack was quick to remove his hat once inside the place and on noting the presence of a woman.
“Begging your pardon, Ma’am,” he nodded with a smile that slowly dawned and began to warm his features. “But you have the most interesting weather around these parts. And what IS that noise?”
“There’s been an avalanche,” said Frau Blauer, acquiring a welcoming smile at the prospect of a paying guest arriving – and an American too!
“Oh my!” Samantha exclaimed.
“Avalanches are common of course,” continued Frau Blauer, “but if there’s a prospect of the main road or the railway line being blocked, the men of the village will go out to help. You may have passed my son as you came in.
“Now, how may I help you?”
Jack considered the door with a worried look, before popping his hat smartly back on his head again. “Man’s work it is, right enough. I’ll be needing a room and some of that fancy spiced wine you people are so good at. And a room with a good, deep hot bath. Fancy I’ll be needing it after this. Jack Alder’s the name, figuring you’ll need that at the very least. I’ll be back once I’ve helped out some. Bags were supposed to be along shortly, but I’m guessing they’re gonna wait a while now.”
There was a beaming smile for Miss Smith too, a tip of the hat before the American started to take his leave to help out in the snow.
“Mr. Alder!” the blonde called in an American accent as he moved toward the front door. “If there’s anyone hurt….” She took a step forward. “Please… I’m a nurse. If anyone is injured… Maybe I should go also,” she stated, pointedly ignoring Frau Blauer in favour of the Texan. “I can get my coat…” she added anxiously.
Frau Blauer gave Miss Smith a very hard look but said nothing.
The door opened again andin came a tall dark haired man with a faintly sneering expression, accompanied by an ethereally fair and beautiful girl, with wide cornflower blue eyes and a look of delicacy. Frau Blauer greeted them.
“Herr Olson. Fraulein Glyde.” Her voice noticeably warmed as she said the girl’s name.
“We heard the bells,” the girl said a little breathlessly. “That means there’s been an avalanche, doesn’t it? Was anyone hurt?”
“You don’t need to get into a fever fit over it,” said the man addressed as Olson. “There’s avalanches all the time round these parts.”
Miss Glyde ignored him. “Was anyone hurt?” she repeated.
“We don’t know as yet,” said Frau Blauer. “But my Fritzel he is gone to help – ja, and all the strong boys and men from the village. All will be well!”
“You see?” said Olson. “You should go up to your room and rest, Miranda. You wouldn’t want to upset your father.”
At this, Miranda Glyde turned away from the desk. The nervous excitement that had animated her dropped away – she drooped like a delicate flower.
“I guess not,” she said dully, and turned to make her way towards the main staircase. As she did so, she seemed to notice Samantha and Jack for the first time and gave them a shy, hesitant smile.
Samantha hesitated, then gave Miranda a small friendly nod. The glance she gave Olsen was a bit more frosty. Then she turned back to Jack Alder for his response to her query.
“Well Miss, I’m sure they’d be grateful of any help offered, but p’raps waiting down in the village might be best so you don’t get cold in the snow?” The Texan suggested with a smile that would melt the coldest of hearts, reassuring and glad at the same time. Jack’s gaze drifted sharply up to the new arrivals, that same emotion displayed upon his features. “Sir. Miss.” A hat dip greeted both of the new arrivals too. “If y’all will excuse me, I’ll go see if I can lend a hand.” And without further ado he headed out the door.
“If you are a nurse,” said Frau Blauer to Samantha, “you could travel out on one of the wagons that will be going out to collect passengers.” Her tone was grudging, as if she doubted that a reputable nurse would be quite so fond of a casino.
by macadmin | Dec 22, 2016 | Blog, Characters
Jim Hutton as Alder Bishop
Alder Bishop is the published (and successful) author of numerous mystery novels, novellas and short stories. As such, much is known about him- and you may have read much of what follows in the pages of the popular press.
He is Harvard-educated (Master of Science, Engineering). As an underclassman and grad student,he read mystery novels to blow off steam. After witnessing one too many occurrences of a book taking flight across the room and impacting into the nearest the wall, his best friend John J. McCaffrey happened upon a writing contest in a magazine and bet Alder $10 he couldn’t finish plotting and writing a novel in time to submit it. That bet led to the creation of Blockade, the first novel to feature college professor Julian Laufer. The magazine folded, but not until Alder had won the $10. John offered double or nothing that Alder wouldn’t submit the novel to an actual publisher. He did.
(The rest, as they say…)
Blockade by Alder Bishop
The artwork on the dust cover of Blockade represented a scene from the book, sort of, but for the most part left Alder scratching his head. On the other hand, it sold well enough that he decided he had better things to worry about…like kicking out the next two or three before the public sobered up. Since then he’s published at least one, sometimes two books a year. Alder’s publisher is after him to create a pseudonym and start a new series. His books have been translated into more than 20 languages.
He spent several months in Hollywood earlier in the year, writing screenplays; it was good money, but he wasn’t kept busy enough and grew to hate it (he did, however, use the experience in the plots for forthcoming novels, including the one he is currently writing, Prepared to Die).
He enjoys both travel and research. Currently he is on vacation in Europe to recharge his creative batteries. So far he has written three short stories and plotted the tricky bits of a locked-room mystery novel (fourth or fifth in line to actually be written). When Possessed by Story very little exists to Alder; he might not eat, sleep (much, if at all), bathe or shave for days.
Seven Salamanders by Alder Bishop
Related to this: unstoppable when sets his mind in pursuit of…well, whatever. Also related: among his practical skills is a knowledge of guns / gunplay; he can shoot reasonably accurately, a skill pounded into him by his father and Sergeant Vincente when he was growing up. He’s kept up his skill in order to write about it accurately. Like his main character/detective Julian Laufer, he currently doesn’t own a gun (though there is one in his apartment; it belongs to his father), though he does belong to a local gun club.
As an adult, he emulates many of the qualities of the boy scout he might have been: friendly and approachable, energetic and adventurous, generous, honorable, honest and trustworthy. Basically optimistic, positive and selfless; disappointments run off him like water off a duck’s back. Instilled with a sincere passion for justice, probably acquired from his father. A fun conversationalist (though when nervous is prone to awkward babble).
Not generally moved to anger (and even more rarely on his own behalf). It takes a lot to push Alder into a rare black mood; it takes even more provoking to flare his temper, and even then it is more likely to be on someone else’s behalf rather than his own. When angry he becomes hot-headed and outspoken. He does not usually express his anger physically; like many large men he is well aware of his size and his capability to injure others or break / smash things if not careful.
Poison for Two by Alder Bishop
He speaks affectionately of his father Edward (living, retired from the NYPD) and his mother Imelda (deceased). His older brother, Edward Jr., died in infancy. For many years he maintained an affectionate correspondence with his godmother Lisa, his mother’s dearest friend. His godfather, his father’s immediate subordinate and working partner, died two years ago; Alder still misses Sergeant Vincente and faithfully visits his grave when his father is snowbirding (every winter, in Florida; Alder bought him a house with his first royalty check).
Alder lives in a brownstone apartment on the Upper East Side of New York City. It is spacious enough to contain a (small, cramped) foyer, a living room/study lined on three sides with bookshelves and oddities (the fourth side has yellow silk wall hangings and a fireplace), a kitchen with dining nook (Alder is not known for dinner-parties), two bedrooms (one, with an oversized bed, is Alder’s; the other is mostly reserved for the use of his father when he comes to stay, which both of them expect he will when he is in town) and a full bathroom. He has a live-out housekeeper, Mrs. Harriet Tabalonsky, who keeps him in groceries and leaves reheatable meals in the refrigerator (that he has a refrigerator at all is a point of pride to “Tabby,” who worries incessantly about Alder’s imminent death-by-starvation). Alder enjoys cooking when not Possessed by Story. Tabby lives in fear of those spells – it takes her days to get the kitchen back the way she had it (ever the engineer, Alder rearranges things for better efficiency), and she never did find the pepper grinder.
Beyond the Pale by Alder Bishop
Heterosexual and open to love but not consumed by the pursuit; truth is, he is somewhat awkward about dealing with the fairer sex. He has had a couple of serious relationships, but they ended up going nowhere (probably appearing in the gossip columns did not help). The last one failed, spectacularly, because he got stuck inside his head writing Beyond the Pale, an Opponent (which had a spectacular multiple-solutions ending), leading to his rarely showing up on time as prearranged, despite fervent and regular promises to Do Better. It was amazing how the bits and pieces of a dozen red roses, when used as a weapon rather than a peace offering as intended, went everywhere. When he got home, his father thought he’d been mugged, and kept after him to report the matter properly to the police. Alder finally broke down and told him the truth. It was several hours before Edward Bishop stopped sniggering.
A political moderate; most recently he voted for Roosevelt.
Even Unto Death by Alder Bishop
Physically, Alder has rugged masculine good looks. He wears black-framed glasses for reading. He has a long, lanky body whose athleticism (he runs, and skis) is usually belied by the clothes he wears. Usually dresses more for comfort than fashion, though looks good in a tuxedo (i.e., when he bothers). Usually he is to be found draped over an easy chair, reading a book, in a posture that (from an outside viewpoint) can’t possibly look comfortable. Coat pockets often distended by at least one paperback mystery novel, napkins, candy bar wrappers, and other assorted scraps of paper. It is not unusual for his clothing to have ink splotches or cuffs to have notes jotted upon them. Casual speech patterns. Drinks Old Fashioneds or (less often) beer, but really prefers coffee. Was a cigarette smoker; broke that habit (too dangerous while distracted) and now only smokes the occasional pipe.
Favorite sports: baseball, boxing and hockey (not necessarily in that order). For team sports, favors New York teams. Is interested in the possibilities of the National Basketball League, but hasn’t started following it with any real interest.
Books by Alder Bishop:
|
Blockade
|
 Basic Endings by Alder Bishop |
Cauldron, Bubble! |
| Regardless of Lightning |
The Nine of Spades
|
| Poison for Two |
Opposite Colors (short stories) |
| Even Unto Death |
Cougar in the Mist |
| The Veil of Testimony |
Beyond the Pale, an Opponent |
| Basic Endings (short stories) |
The Seven Salamanders |
Lancehead
|
Prepared to Die (forthcoming) |
| A Good Time Dying |
Dark Bishop (novellas and short stories; forthcoming) |
| Dead by Reflection |
|
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Alder Bishop is a Player Character in Murder at Christmas, created and written by Ree Moorhead Pruehs
You can learn more about other characters here.
Murder at Christmas is an online email game that will run over (approximately) the Twelve Days of Christmas – from December 21st 2016 until January 6th 2017. There are eight writers, working collaboratively (see the Rules of the Game). Regular updates will be posted on the website, with links that you can follow on Twitter, Facebook and Google+ so that people can follow the story, root for their favourite characters, and keep up with the twists and turns of the plot.
Followers can also apply to join the Gossip mailing list,where they can discuss the game with the writers!
by macadmin | Dec 21, 2016 | Blog, Characters
Hans Holt as Karl Stransky
Karl Stransky is of Czech Noblesse militaire, whose family lost most of its title, influence and wealth in the fall of Empires after WWI. Effectively nationless, the Stranky’s have done their best to keep up the pretense of ‘business as usual’ by mixing with what remains of Europe’s dispossessed and disgruntled elite.
Karl likes to enjoy life, and seems keen to distance himself from the world beyond the bubble of dances, bars and smoking lounges he finds himself in. He takes care to dress well and has impeccable manners, but doesn’t like to talk about politics or the past. He is in his mid-30s, and acquainted with the Blauers, probably due to frequent trips between Vienna and Prague. He is fluent in German, but also speaks English and French (with a pronounced accent).
His black hair cut in a Jazz Age style, Karl is pale-skinned and dark-eyed, handsome by most standards and very upright. Had history played out differently he would have been an officer in Austro-Hungarian army and not an eager student of the arts.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Klaus Stransky is a Player Character in Murder at Christmas, created and written by Alan Wake
You can learn more about other characters here.
Murder at Christmas is an online email game that will run over (approximately) the Twelve Days of Christmas – from December 21st 2016 until January 6th 2017. There are eight writers, working collaboratively (see the Rules of the Game). Regular updates will be posted on the website, with links that you can follow on Twitter, Facebook and Google+ so that people can follow the story, root for their favourite characters, and keep up with the twists and turns of the plot.
Followers can also apply to join the Gossip mailing list,where they can discuss the game with the writers!
by macadmin | Dec 21, 2016 | Blog, Characters
Hans Richter as Fritzel Bauer
Fritzel Blauer is the son of Frau Gutrun Blauer, the owner of Hotel de Saxe. As a young boy he showed considerable talent as a student of Mathematics and Physics, and, encouraged by his proud mother, he became a student at the Friedrich-Wilhelms-Universität in Berlin. She had, however, expected him to return home after he qualified and to take part in running the hotel. This he chose not to do, instead prolonging his studies into quantum mechanics.
Two years ago, however, he began spending more time at the Hotel de Saxe and taking a more active part in the running of the inn. To his mother he has said little about his reasons for his abrupt change of course. He still corresponds with erstwhile colleagues and mentors, as frequent letters arrive with postmarks from Berlin and Munich – and even Copenhagen, and his mother has found papers containing obscure calculations on his desk from time to time.
Fritzel has been a key skier since boyhood. He gives instructions to guests wishing to learn about cross country skiing, leading expeditions into the Zittau mountains.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Fritzel Blauer is a NonPlayer Character in Murder at Christmas. This means that he will be written by Mel Mason, who is running the game.
You can learn more about other characters here.
Murder at Christmas is an online email game that will run over (approximately) the Twelve Days of Christmas – from December 21st 2016 until January 6th 2017. There are eight writers, working collaboratively (see the Rules of the Game). Regular updates will be posted on the website, with links that you can follow on Twitter, Facebook and Google+ so that people can follow the story, root for their favourite characters, and keep up with the twists and turns of the plot.
Followers can also apply to join the Gossip mailing list,where they can discuss the game with the writers!
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