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/
Bopping in Historical Waters
M.E. Proctor was born in Brussels and lives in Texas. The first book in her Declan Shaw PI series, Love You Till Tuesday, came out from Shotgun Honey, with the follow up, Catch Me on a Blue Day, scheduled for 2025. She’s the author of a short story collection, Family and Other Ailments, and the co-author of a retro-noir novella, Bop City Swing. Her fiction has appeared in Vautrin, Tough, Rock and a Hard Place, Bristol Noir, Mystery Tribune, Shotgun Honey, Reckon Review, and Black Cat Weekly among others. She’s a Derringer nominee.
Russell Thayer’s work has appeared in Tough, Roi Fainéant Press, Mystery Tribune, Close to the Bone, Bristol Noir, Cowboy Jamboree Press, Shotgun Honey, Rock and a Hard Place Press, Revolution John, Punk Noir Magazine, Expat Press, The Yard Crime Blog, and Outcast Press. He received his BA in English from the University of Washington, worked for decades at large printing companies, and lives in Missoula, Montana.
By Lois Winston
I don’t know how I didn’t know about this series of books, but I’m so happy I stumbled upon them. Mrs. Polifax is a New Jersey widow who walks into the CIA one day and offers her services as a spy. Surprisingly, they take her up on it! And that’s the start of a very entertaining book featuring an extremely endearing character. The author wrote fourteen books in the Mrs. Polifax series before her death at the age of eighty-eight in 2012. I’ve already started the second one.
If a book doesn’t draw me in by the third chapter, I won’t waste any more time on it. There are too many books to read and not enough leisure hours in my day. Even so, there are books I finish but soon forget. Then there’s The Dutch House. I first picked this book up because it takes place in a town where I went to college and later lived for several decades. But I kept reading because the author is so adept at crafting both characters and plot.
I bought this book several years ago but just got around to reading it this summer. At 880 pages, it’s quite intimidating and requires a huge commitment of time. Because I don’t care for horror stories, I’d never read anything by King other than his book on writing. However, I’m old enough to remember the day Kennedy was shot, and the concept about a man who goes back in time to prevent the assassination fascinated me. I flew through it, unable to put the book down until my eyelids grew heavy each night.
Disclaimer: the author is a dear friend, and I was lucky enough to read this book prior to publication. Daisy Harriman, one of the main characters in the book, was a real person. When she requested a room for the night at the Waldorf Hotel, she was turned away because she wasn’t accompanied by her husband. Appalled by her treatment, she set out to change history, creating The Colony Club, the first woman’s club of its kind in not only New York but the world. The novel also incorporates other historical people of the Gilded Age, including Stanford White, who designed the building, and actress-turned-interior designer Elsie de Wolfe, who decorated the Colony Club’s rooms. The author is a meticulous historian who creates a richly accurate depiction of the times, especially in the treated of women, making the book extremely au courant for today’s readers.
Let’s talk titles – not king, queen and my personal favourite, goddess – but the titles that alert readers to what is about to unfold before their eyes.
As he does every year, last weekend my husband took a sealed jar of sand from the shelf and set it out on a table to commemorate those long-gone soldiers and their unimaginable courage. It’s the sand we had gathered from the beach in Normandy. It still looks as it did in 1999.
About The Book