Today I asked a friend--mystery author Jo
Hiestand--to share a recent bit of pre-marketing mayhem that shows Murphy's Law
is alive and well. Learn more about her work at McLarenCases.com
Everything's Going Swimmingly
By Jo Hiestand
Sometimes these victims’ voices call out to me. Not for justice (I leave that to McLaren),
but in music.
Like the murdered singer
in my third book, TORCH SONG. She was so
real, I could hear her singing the song for which she was famous. I thought readers needed to hear her, so I
asked a university music student (already renowned locally for her
blues/torch/jazz vocals) if she’d write an original tune to the lyrics that
were part of the story. She did, and
“Never Leave My Side” was created and recorded on CDs.
That collaboration was so enjoyable I continued the
original-song-featured-in-a-McLaren-novel for the next book, HIT SONG.
I contacted a folk duo, also at the same university, with the song
proposal. They said it sounded like fun
and we set a time and date for them to come to my house to talk about the
project.
Super! I had my folk singers, I’d
written the lyrics, I knew the traditional tune I wanted them to use…everything
was going swimmingly!
Well, on the day we were supposed to meet, the ole adage came true.
Around 6:45 a.m. the float arm broke off the toilet! There was
nothing to lift to make the water stop running. Within seconds the water
overflowed the tank and cascaded onto the floor. There’s no shut off
valve on the water line going into the toilet, of course. And in the utility room, behind the hot water
heater, there were six valves, some for the radiant floor heating system that
no longer worked. I couldn't figure out which valve to turn and some I couldn't
even get to due to the water heater being in the way. Panic!
By now the water covered the bathroom floor and was about a half inch
deep. I got old towels and scatter rugs and placed them on the floor to
sop up the water. I got a saucepan and scooped water out of the tank and
poured it down the sink. As soon as I removed one saucepan of water, the
tank immediately filled. I frantically scooped out more water and got it
below the stack’s top. I assumed I'd bought myself a few seconds to leave
the room. I raced into the kitchen and phoned the emergency service
number of the first plumber I could find listed in the phone book. Sure,
they could help. They'd send someone out
between 8 and 10 a.m., but until then I should phone the non-emergency number
of the fire department and they'd send out a guy to turn off the water.
I did that. The fire department non-emergency office wasn't
"open for business" at this early hour.
Well, when all else fails, you phone your city police.
I explained the problem. The dispatcher said she'd send an officer
and contact the fire department for me. I hung up and dashed back into
the bathroom to bail some more. The floor was sopping, the towels and
scatter rugs were sopping. Water still
poured out of the tank. I had no more dry towels or rugs to lay
down. Do I next put down quilts and
clothes?
I was saved searching for my thick, fuzzy knee socks, for a minute later
the rescuing, protective police officer arrived. He sauntered into my
house, a model of Calm in a Sea of Untranquility, and hunted in the utility
room for the water shut off valve.
While he was doing that, one glorious
yellow fire truck and three handsome, knowledgeable firefighters arrived,
resplendent in protective coats, helmets and boots. The five of us crammed into the bathroom and
stared at the commode and the tank, watching the water deepen on the
floor. They eventually headed for the
utility room, the sodden scatter rugs squishing beneath their heavy rubber
boots.
In the kitchen, one firefighter turned on the sink faucet and the others
twiddled with knobs crowding the utility room, and finally the water flow from
the faucet stopped. Which meant the water flow from the toilet tank
stopped. Their job done, all four left.
One hour later the plumber arrived. He looked at the toilet and
the water line and mused, “They don’t make them like this anymore,” which
wasn’t a yearning for the good ole days.
Simply stating all new toilet water lines now have a shut off valve --
required by law. But of course I buy the
house that was made before code compliance…
He replaced the float and arm, and installed a shut off valve in the
water line running to the toilet. All to the tune of $339. But that
was actually music to my ears. Nothing against the police officer and
firefighters, but I'd rather meet them in a more social setting.
And all this going on prior to Hannah and Nick arriving at 10:00 a.m. to
discuss the song “Your Parting Glass.” Funny,
but that morning while I was playing with the saucepan, I figured Hannah’s and
Nick’s recording should more aptly be “Wade in the Water.”
I don’t have a great recipe for Sponge Cake
or Watercress Sandwiches, which seems to be called for here. But in keeping with the watery theme I’ll
give you this recipe just for the halibut.
¼ cup honey
2 tbsp soy sauce
2 tbsp fresh lemon juice
1 tbsp sesame oil
2 garlic cloves, minced
1 tsp powdered ginger
½ tsp dry mustard
½ tsp red pepper flakes
¼ tsp black pepper
6
8-oz halibut steaks
Prepare the marinade in a
gallon-sized sealable plastic bag: combine honey, soy sauce, lemon juice, oil,
garlic, ginger, mustard pepper flakes and black pepper. Add the halibut. Squeeze the air from the bag, seal, and turn
the fish several times to coat with the marinade. Refrigerate one hour, turning the bag
occasionally. Preheat oven broiler. Drain the marinade into a small saucepan. Bring to a boil and simmer 10 minutes. Remove from heat. Broil the fish 8-10 minutes, turning once and
brushing with the marinade. Broil until
the fish flakes when tested with a fork.
(Recipe from my cookbook Cider, Swords and Straw, published by L&L Dreamspell, 2012)
(Recipe from my cookbook Cider, Swords and Straw, published by L&L Dreamspell, 2012)
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