What does Meg, a retired kindergarten teacher, do when the killer of her husband and only child still walks free a year after dirt had covered their graves? Go rogue, of course!When the detective responsible for Meg’s nightmares takes over the murder investigation of her former student, Meg hunts the killer down with help from her friends. Their cozy lunches at Sweet Buns Café turn into tactical meetings while these retired grade school teachers get themselves in trouble better suited to those in their twenties. And to put the icing on their cream scones, someone is after Meg. Is it the killer? Or has Meg uncovered secrets better left buried with her loved ones?
When I first set out to write a cozy mystery, I thought immediately of having retired grade-school teachers as my amateur sleuths. Cozies have that comforting feeling—and who’s more comforting than your beloved kindergarten teacher?—while still delivering a satisfying mystery. These sleuths would not need super-powers. Years spent navigating playground politics, and parent-teacher conferences gave them patience, intuition, and an uncanny ability to spot when someone wasn’t telling the truth. That was more than enough.
The heart of the story begins with character, especially my main protagonist, Meg Brightbook, a recently widowed kindergarten teacher. Someone who never stopped questioning the deaths of her husband and only child in a freak accident. Meg’s quiet, persistent doubt fuels the mystery just as much as the murder of a former student who suddenly reappears in their small community. Both mysteries ask the same unsettling question: how well do we really know the people from our past—and the ones we loved most?
And since cozy mysteries lean on the idea that official channels don’t always see what everyday people do, who else should stroll onto the pages but the archetypal incompetent detective, Detective Jonathan Storm, who creates obstacles and propels the retired teachers into a life they hadn’t expected? By the time the detective catches up with them, the retired teachers have the killer wrapped up in a neat bow, complete with a confession in their hands.
Meanwhile, handling Meg’s grief within a cozy framework required a light but deliberate touch. Having recently dealt with the loss of my parents, summoning the grief was easy. Writing it down so it didn’t overwhelm the story was hard. Instead of dwelling on anguish, I focused on absence and the memories that trip us in unexpected moments. These kept the emotional stakes intimate rather than overwhelming.
Giving Meg her hope of a future was the best part of the story. Setting the story in spring, allowing the mystery to unfold in a world that’s not fully healed and not fully broken, I thought, showed readers exactly where Meg is. And where she could be. As summer is the promise of spring, a budding romance—a second chance—for Meg emerges as the story progresses, one that is gentle and tentative, more a possibility than a passion.
Plotting the story was like putting pieces of a puzzle together, where to place the clues and which clues are red herrings, which subplots are deepened and which dropped. The victim being a former student reinforces the genre’s love of close-knit communities and long memories, where childhood histories are never forgotten…or forgiven.
Writing a cozy mystery about retired teachers solving a murder—and a widow quietly reclaiming her future—isn’t about shrinking the crime. It’s about enlarging the humanity around it. And once you trust teachers who survived decades of finger paint and small chairs, trusting them with a mystery feels easy.
The other two divers stood waiting for their turn. And the detective was in the thick of everything, ordering his men around.
“I don’t care. He’ll mess this up like he did with Rich and Jim.” I glared at Barbara. I saw my friends look at each other.
“We can’t get him fired from the case, if that’s what you’re thinking. We don’t know anyone,” Liz said. “And even if we did, what’s our excuse?”
“Is that all you guys can say? A student, a former student of ours, was killed in such a horrible way. And all we can do is…What? Wash our hands of her?”
“We’re not washing our hands of Brie,” Liz protested. “The girl gave up on us first. We all tried to love her. We knew her mother was never there for her. But did she care? No! She never listened to any advice we gave her or showed any affection to any of her teachers.”
“Forget Liz and her sentimental nonsense. The point is, Meg, we’re school teachers, not detectives. We’re simply saying it’s not our job to look for murderers,” Barbara said.
Liz gave an indelicate snort. “Why did she have to come back here, anyway? She left town six years ago, right after she finished high school.”
“Brie said she came back to work at her Aunt Janet’s catering business,” I said.
“Work? Brie? Those two words do not go together,” Liz said.
A retired CPA and lawyer, GG Calpo now writes cozy mysteries and urban fantasies. She blends her experiences as a Filipino American immigrant with the everyday stories of life around her. She spends her time reading, crocheting blankets and sweaters for her five grandchildren, watching mystery TV shows and taking long walks in her neighborhood. She resides in Central New Jersey, with her husband and two corgis, Whiskey and Nugget. Visit her at www.ggcalpo.com
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