Dead, but Not Forgotten

Galvez Hotel
Dead, but Not Forgotten:
Murder at the Galvez
When asked whether I use real people as inspiration for my stories, I tell folks that there are so many imaginary characters in my head vying for my attention that I don’t need inspiration from a real person. Except—there’s always an exception—right?
When I started writing MURDER AT THE GALVEZ, the third mystery in my Sydney Lockhart series set in Galveston, Texas, I used a real person in the first paragraph merely to jump-start the story.
My husband is from Galveston, and his grandfather, PoPo, who was the doorman at the Tremont Hotel, always had a pack of teaberry gum in his pocket. I’d never met him, but I couldn’t help but wonder what life as a doorman at a fancy hotel would be like. (Note: before I chose the Galvez Hotel for the book, I’d planned to set the mystery in the Tremont Hotel until I learned it was temporarily closed during the time the story takes place.) Thus, I gave PoPo the name James Robert Lockhart, made him the doorman at the Galvez Hotel, and Sydney’s grandfather.
As in all my Sydney Lockhart mysteries, Sydney checks into a hotel, someone is murdered, and she’s the primary suspect. I needed a reason for Sydney to be at the hotel, and what better reason than to visit her grandfather? But wait, he’d already passed away, so to bring him into the story, I have Sydney reminisce about the last time she saw him, when she was eleven.
When I was little, I used to run up the hotel’s front steps, and PoPo would say, “Let me get the door for you, ma’am.” He’d bow and open the door with a flourish. As I passed, he’d say, “Welcome to the Galvez, Miss Lockhart. Enjoy your stay.” I would lift my chin like a queen. Then I’d reach into his coat pocket and pull out a pack of Teaberry chewing gum.—Sydney Lockhart
Having Sydney reminisce wasn’t enough, so I had to develop this character and give him more purpose, which led to Sydney’s last visit with him being a traumatic experience.
In the 1940s and 1950s, Galveston was a rough-and-tumble gambling town that earned the title “Sin City of the Southwest.” A few powerful crime families operated illegal casinos, speakeasies, and backroom bookie joints that attracted tourists and celebrities. A hotel doorman would surely have inside information and connections to these establishments and operations. With this in mind, James Robert Lockhart began to develop.

Whenever my family came to the island for a visit, I’d make a beeline to the Galvez Hotel and stand next to Popo while he greeted guests. People who saw us together knew instantly that I was his granddaughter. We were cut from the same mold: tall, thin, and redheaded. I was proud of that fact, for James Robert Lockhart was the most handsome man I’d ever seen. When I found him crumpled on the floor in the hotel foyer, his body riddled with bullet holes, I knew my life would never be the same. Now, as I stepped into the lobby eighteen years later, the memory of that day hit me square in the gut.—Sydney Lockhart
Sydney had no intention of ever setting foot in the hotel again, but when she was assigned to write a news story about a planning conference at the Galvez involving a controversial development project on the island, she had to suck it up and go. As always, someone was murdered, but what if this murder was connected to the murder of James Robert Lockhart? Now I was building him a backstory in which Sydney suspected her grandfather wasn’t who he seemed. Soon she realized that clearing herself of murder charges meant delving deeper into her grandfather’s history.
One thing led to another, and Lockhart skeletons began jumping out of closets too close to home. So, was James Robert Lockhart a notorious con artist or someone who always did the right thing, regardless of the consequences? Either way, Sydney had to find out, and so did I.
Since then, Sydney has shared with me a few survival skills she learned from her grandfather: how to hotwire a car, pick a lock with a bobby pin, and win at five-card draw. Dead, but not forgotten, Popo’s influence and teaching made Sydney who she is.
PoPo had an unquenchable fascination with the wonders of life and had steered me toward more practical directions. He taught me to appreciate the creatures that washed ashore after high tide, the majesty of constellations as they traveled across the sky, and flocks of birds that descended on the beach after fleeing an offshore storm. He even took me on my first Christmas bird count.—Sydney Lockhart/MURDER AT THE MENGER
I’m sure the real PoPo was the benevolent grandfather my husband remembered, and if PoPo is reading this from upstairs, I hope he’s smiling down on me.
Look for my seventh Sydney Lockhart mystery, where PoPo’s lessons save Sydney’s tush once again. It’s scheduled for release in spring 2026. The hotel, and hence the title, remains a secret until pre-lease. Check out my other Sydney mysteries: https://kathleenkaska.com/


A Guest Post by Author M.E. Proctor



In 1962, my mother registered me for a writing class that was offered in summer school after the eighth grade. Only one other girl signed up, so the class was cancelled.
I began writing suspense/mysteries in the 80s. My father was a criminal defense lawyer, (and later a judge), so I’d been around the law since I was little. I had been a probation officer and was at that time a criminal and family lawyer. Crime, I knew about. By the way, I heard that not long after the aforementioned editor rejected my novel, she died. Just so you know, I didn’t kill her.












Ahhhh…. The Islands