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Mysteries Can Have Hot Sex
TJ’s Travel Journal
London, Day Six
After turning in my sixth article—count ’em, six—on Thursday afternoon, I took off for another research trip. I’ve spent all my evenings so far on a mission. Checking out moody places in London.
Because I’ve decided at last. At fucking last!
Here goes, Travel Journal. You’re the first to know officially that . . . I’m going to write a whodunit. A race against the clock.
Whew. I said it, and I’m starting it tonight.
When I was a kid, I devoured Alistair Edwin’s tales of the international teenage spy Rhys Locke as he cracked the case wherever there were jewel heists. Locke was the coolest hero, all steel and nerves, and just out of school. But I won’t write a teenager—my hero will be in his twenties. Maybe there’ll be some sex. Mysteries can have hot sex, right? Mostly there will be clues, and whodunits, and all sorts of wild plot twists.
A scene here at Aldwych station, an abandoned tube station that looks haunted.
Another at the Hardy Tree in a cemetery, where I went last night. Maybe there will be a chase there. An apprehension.
And I definitely want a scene in a creepy church like the one I saw on Tuesday.
I should pick up some Agatha Christies to get in the right frame of mind. Murder on the Orient Express makes my brain pop every single time I re-read it.
And, well, if I’m going book shopping, it’d be rude to go anyplace but Jude’s store.
(Travel Journal, you weren’t fooled by that excuse, were you? Yeah, me neither.)