The Best American Mystery Stories 2016

Contributors’ Notes

Megan Abbott is the Edgar Award — winning author of seven novels, including Dare Me, The Fever, and her latest, You Will Know Me. Her stories have appeared in several collections, including Detroit Noir, The Best American Mystery Stories 2015, and Mississippi Noir. She is also the author of The Street Was Mine, a study of hardboiled fiction and film noir. She was the 2015 winner of the International Thriller Writers and Strand Critics awards for best novel. “The Little Men” was nominated for a 2016 Edgar Award. She lives in Queens, New York.

• The idea for “The Little Men” sprang from real life, a decades-old bit of Hollywood lore. Years ago I read about the sad fate of one of the most successful and charismatic booksellers of Tinseltown’s golden age. His untimely death in 1941 took place in his apartment in one of those lovely courtyard bungalows that loom so large in Hollywood tales, from In a Lonely Place to Day of the Locust to Mulholland Drive. Over the years I remained haunted by the real-life story, and I’m generally a sucker for Hollywood tales anyway — especially ones with dark twists. So when Otto Penzler asked me to set a story with a bookstore/bookseller focus, I finally had my chance to dive deep into that jacaranda-scented world of golden-age Hollywood where everything is beautiful and, quite possibly, deadly.

Steve Almond is the author of eight books of fiction and nonfiction, most recently the New York Times bestseller Against Football. His short stories have appeared in the Best American and Pushcart anthologies. His most recent story collection, God Bless America, won the Paterson Prize for Fiction and was shortlisted for the Story Prize. His journalism has appeared in the New York Times Magazine, the Washington Post, and elsewhere. Almond cohosts the podcast Dear Sugar Radio with Cheryl Strayed. He lives outside Boston with his wife and three children.

• “Okay, Now Do You Surrender?” emerged from one of those thought experiments endemic to the domesticated suburban husband: what would happen if one’s spousal missteps were monitored by mafiosi rather than marriage counselors? It would be idiocy to deny that personal authorial guilt played a formative role. I had no intentions of writing a whodunit, but the moment the mobsters waylaid our hero outside his workplace, the die was cast. We’re all living under surveillance at this point — and always have been. Our conscience does the legwork. It’s what sets us apart from the serpents and the badgers and the whatnots. I’m just happy to have found an unorthodox way to write about marital anguish. It remains one of the essential human mysteries.

Matt Bell is the author most recently of the novel Scrapper, a Michigan Notable Book for 2016. His previous novel, In the House upon the Dirt Between the Lake and the Woods, was a finalist for the Young Lions Fiction Award and an Indies Choice Adult Debut Book of the Year Honor recipient, as well as the winner of the Paula Anderson Book Award. He is also the author of two collections of fiction and a nonfiction book about the classic video game Baldur’s Gate II. His next story collection, A Tree or a Person or a Wall, is a fall 2016 publication. A native of Michigan, he now teaches creative writing at Arizona State University.

• The finding of the boy in “Toward the Company of Others” came to me after a couple months of writing about Kelly scrapping metal in the abandoned buildings of Detroit. I’d wanted to write about metal scrapping and about the urban abandonment in my home state for a while, but I knew very little else when I started. For most of those early weeks, Kelly didn’t even have a name: he was simply “the scrapper,” and I knew very little about him other than his occupation, his deep isolation and loneliness. I went forward with two rules: I would keep him acting, describing the work he did, and I would try to learn who he was by the way he saw the empty schools and churches and houses he gutted for steel and copper. (Most revealing in those days was the habit he had of seeing the abandoned parts of the city as the zone.) I wrote this episode much the way the reader experiences it: I wrote Kelly scrapping the house, unaware there was a boy held in the basement; I then wrote a few sentences where it seemed that Kelly had already found the boy, splitting him into a person who had and had not yet done so, an awareness the reader (and the writer) would share for a moment; and then I wrote the saving of the boy. It was a surprise, but it changed everything else I wrote about Kelly: How would this loner be transformed by saving another person? What new responsibilities would he take on, and how would he discharge the duties they suggested? And if he came to love the boy in the days to come, might he learn that the boy was still in peril, and then how far would he be willing to go to keep the boy safe?

Bruce Robert Coffin began writing seriously in 2012, several months before retiring from the Portland, Maine, police department. As a detective sergeant with twenty-eight years of service, he supervised all homicide and violent crime investigations for Maine’s largest city. Following the terror attacks of 9/11 he worked for four years with the FBI, earning the Director’s Award (the highest honor a nonagent can receive) for his work in counterterrorism. Coffin’s short fiction has been shortlisted twice for the Al Blanchard Award. He is the author of the John Byron mystery series. He lives and writes in Maine.

• I wrote this story several years ago while trying to finish my first novel. As so often happens, ideas creep in and take hold of the creative reins. I’ve learned not to fight it when this happens. Setting the novel aside, I began to write the tale of an ill-contrived escape attempt from the former Maine State Prison in Thomaston. The story was written in only two sittings, followed by untold hours of rewrites and edits, until eventually it became “Fool Proof.”

Lydia Fitzpatrick was a Stegner Fellow at Stanford University from 2012 to 2014. She received an MFA from the University of Michigan, where she was a Hopwood Award winner, and she was a 2010–2011 fiction fellow at the Wisconsin Institute for Creative Writing. She is also a recipient of an O. Henry Award and a grant from the Elizabeth George Foundation. Her work has appeared in One Story, Glimmer Train, Mid-American Review, and Opium. Lydia lives with her husband and daughter in Los Angeles. She is working on her first novel.

• “Safety” came from a mix of memory and fear. The first line came from a memory: the gym in my elementary school had skylights and high ceilings, and all this dust floating up there in the light, and I remember being little, lying on my back during the wind-down, staring up into space, and feeling completely relaxed and safe. I wrote the first couple of lines hoping to tap into that emotion and transfer it to the reader before it’s broken by the sound of the gunshot.

There’s that Donald Barthelme quote about writing what you’re afraid of, which is, I think, usually an organic process. As the story evolves, the writer’s fears surface, and her job is not to shy away from them. With “Safety” that relationship was reversed: it began as a fear that I felt compelled to write about. I began writing it just after the one-year anniversary of the shooting at Sandy Hook Elementary School, when that tragedy was very much in the public eye. I’d just had a baby, and all of a sudden my fears all involved this new person and the safety of her current self, over which I had some control, and her future self, over which I have no control. I didn’t have any connection to the victims at Sandy Hook, but I couldn’t stop thinking about them, and this story was the best way I could find to express those fears.

Tom Franklin, from Dickinson, Alabama, published his first book, Poachers: Stories, in 1999. Its title novella won the Edgar Award for Best Mystery Story and has been included in The Best American Mystery Stories of the Century and The Best American Noir of the Century. It is currently optioned for film by James Franco. Franklin’s novels include Hell at the Breech, Smonk, and Crooked Letter, which was nominated for nine awards and won five, including the Los Angeles Times Book Prize for Best Mystery/Thriller, the UK’s Golden Dagger Award for Best Crime Novel, and the Willie Morris Award for Southern Fiction. Franklin’s latest novel, The Tilted World, was cowritten with his wife, Beth Ann Fennelly. Winner of a Guggenheim fellowship and, most recently, a fellowship to the American Academy in Berlin, Franklin lives in Oxford, Mississippi, where he teaches in the MFA program.

• Once in a while a story comes to you from an outside source. “Christians” found me several years ago, when Alabama writer and folklorist Kathryn Tucker Windham called to say she’d read my novel Hell at the Breech. This novel is based on a dark, little-known chapter in Alabama history known to locals as the Mitcham War. It took place in Mitcham Beat, the worst voting beat (district) in one of the poorest, most rural, most violent sections of one of the poorest, most rural, most violent counties in a poor, rural, violent state. There have been books other than mine about these events, which, in some circles in Clarke County, are still contested because a lot of truths are (and likely always will be) hidden, unknown. What’s known is that poor sharecroppers and farmers waged a war against less poor townspeople. These countrymen called themselves Hell-at-the-Breech and wore white hoods and did terrible things until county officials, and even the governor, took notice and eventually put a bloody end to it. A lot of people died, some innocent, some not.

Ms. Windham had read my novel and liked it and said she had another Mitcham Beat story for me. As she told me about the young man the Hell-at-the-Breech gang had sent to kill a preacher, as she told how his supporters killed this young man instead, how they took him home to his mother, as Ms. Windham told me, “It was August, so they had to bury him quick,” I knew I was being given a gift. I listened, I took notes, I began to write.

Stephen King is one of the world’s most famous and popular authors, with more than 350 million books sold worldwide. Noted primarily for his horror and supernatural fiction, he has also written numerous crime and mystery novels and stories, westerns, and cross-genre works. In addition to countless awards for horror, supernatural, and science fiction, King has received the National Book Foundation Medal for Distinguished Contribution to American Letters, the Grand Master Award from the Mystery Writers of America, and a National Medal of Arts from the United States National Endowment for the Arts for his contributions to literature. More than sixty motion pictures have been produced from his work, mostly notably Carrie, The Shining, and The Shawshank Redemption.

Elmore Leonard wrote more than forty books during his long career, including the bestsellers Raylan, Tishomingo Blues, Be Cool, Get Shorty, and Rum Punch, as well as the acclaimed collection When the Women Come Out to Dance, which was a New York Times Notable Book. Many of his books have been made into movies, including Get Shorty and Out of Sight. The short story “Fire in the Hole” and three books, including Raylan, were the basis for the FX hit show Justified. Leonard received the Lifetime Achievement Award from PEN USA and the Grand Master Award from the Mystery Writers of America. He died in 2013.

Evan Lewis received the 2011 Robert L. Fish Memorial Award for “Skyler Hobbs and the Rabbit Man,” published in Ellery Queen’s Mystery Magazine. The adventures of Hobbs, who believes himself the reincarnation of Sherlock Holmes, continue in Ellery Queen, while an Alfred Hitchcock series features a modern-day descendant of Davy Crockett, a man bedeviled by the spirit of his famous ancestor. Lewis also spins yarns of pirates and cowboys, and has contributed articles on such detective writers as Frederick Nebel, Richard Sale, Norbert Davis, and Carroll John Daly. He resides in Portland, Oregon, with his wife, Irene, his pulp collection, and a pack of pint-sized rescue dogs.

• The Portland I know — and have portrayed in my Skyler Hobbs stories — is fiercely proud of its image as a hip, clean, and progressive city on the cutting edge of social and environmental issues. Imagine my surprise to discover that as recently as the 1950s it was a hotbed of racketeering, bootlegging, gambling, prostitution, and political corruption.

That revelation came in Phil Stanford’s rip-roaring 2004 exposé, Portland Confidential: Sex, Crime and Corruption in the Rose City. I came to the book a few years late, but hot on the heels of my umpteenth reading of Dashiell Hammett’s Continental Op series, culminating in his hardboiled masterpiece, Red Harvest.

Yikes. The mayor, the police chief, and the judiciary all playing footsie with the Mob. It was as bad as Hammett’s Poisonville. So the leap was easy: this was a job for the Continental Op. From there, the plotting and drafting of “The Continental Opposite” was a pure joy, and I am indebted to Linda Landrigan of AHMM for giving the story legs. The cleansing of Portland has just begun, so there are more adventures of the Op and the Opposite on the way.

Three childhood moments Robert Lopresti remembers vividly: reading the words “They were the footprints of a gigantic hound!”; discovering the Nero Wolfe books while hiding in the mystery stacks from librarians who wanted to banish him to the Children’s Room; and seeing Alfred Hitchcock’s Mystery Magazine on a newsstand. Almost half of his sixty-plus published stories have appeared in Hitchcock. They have won the Derringer (twice) and Black Orchid Novella awards. His first novel, Such a Killing Crime, was set in Greenwich Village during the Great Folk Music Scare of 1963. His latest book, Greenfellas, is a comic crime novel about a top New Jersey mobster who decides it’s his job to save the environment — by any means necessary. Kings River Life Magazine ranked it as one of the best mysteries of 2015, but he is proudest that a reader called it a book about “ethics as a last resort.” Exactly.

Lopresti is a librarian and professor at a university in the Northwest. You can read his multiple blogs at www.roblopresti.com.

• One Saturday evening I tuned in to the NPR show Says You, and the goal of the quiz was apparently matching great detectives with their nemeses. (Yes, that’s the plural of nemesis. It doesn’t look right to me either.) When they got to C. Auguste Dupin I thought, Can they possibly mean the orang-outang? They did (although the contestant guessed gorilla). It struck me as bizarre to treat the ape, who never physically appears in the story, as if he were an archcriminal — and then the idea for “Street of the Dead House” hit me so hard I stumbled and almost fell down.

It was great fun to give Edgar Allan Poe the steampunk treatment while trying not to contradict anything in the original story. Through dumb luck, I saw a notice that nEvermore! a Poe-themed anthology, was looking for a few more tales. Many thanks to editors Nancy Kilpatrick and Caro Soles for their helpful suggestions.

Dennis McFadden lives and writes in an old farmhouse called Mountjoy on Bliss Road, just up Peaceable Street from Harmony Corners. His stories have appeared in dozens of publications, including The Best American Mystery Stories (2011 and 2013), Fiction, Ellery Queen’s Mystery Magazine, Alfred Hitchcock’s Mystery Magazine, The Missouri Review, New England Review, The Sewanee Review, The Massachusetts Review, Crazyhorse, and The South Carolina Review. His first collection, Hart’s Grove, was published in 2010; his second collection, Jimtown Road, won the 2016 Press 53 Award for Short Fiction.

• Plot is nice, and necessary, setting is essential, but for me, and for a lot of other writers, story begins with character. And this Lafferty guy is a character. It’s been said that if you can come up with a good one, you can use him or her again and again, and though I suspect that’s intended to mean in varying guises and disguises in varying stories, I took it a little more literally, no pun intended. Terrance Lafferty has been my main man in multiple stories now, and the next one’s already in progress. Other people seem to like him nearly as much as I do — he’s appeared in some pretty good places, Fiction and Ellery Queen’s Mystery Magazine among them, and he was first introduced to mystery fans a few years ago in The Best American Mystery Stories 2013, when Mr. Penzler and Ms. Scottoline were kind enough to include “The Ring of Kerry.” I think people like him because he’s harmless. He’s by no means heroic. He could be any of us. All the trouble he gets into, all his predicaments, are generally self-inflicted, and happen only because he’s on that most elemental of quests — looking for love. Alas (and of course), he’s invariably looking in all the wrong places. He didn’t make his debut until a few years ago (in The Missouri Review, a story called “The Three-Sided Penny”), but he’s been with me a lot longer than that. Unlike most of my characters, based on people I’ve encountered over the years, Lafferty was a seed that grew and grew, inspired decades ago by one Sebastian Dangerfield — J. P. Donleavy’s ginger man. A tip of the hat to both of those gentlemen.

Michael Noll edits Read to Write Stories, a blog that offers weekly writing exercises and craft interviews. His stories have appeared in American Short Fiction, Chattahoochee Review, Ellery Queen’s Mystery Magazine, and Indiana Review. His book In the Beginning, Middle, and End: A Field Guide to Writing Fiction is forthcoming. Noll earned his MFA from Texas State University, lives in Austin with his family, and is at work on a novel.

• I grew up on a hog farm in rural Kansas. Down the road, two old men lived with their mother, their house hidden by dense woods. A van sometimes raced by late at night, and then a little while later drove away again, so fast that the gravel popping under its tires woke us up. This was the 1980s, and not long after, people began getting arrested for cooking meth. My hometown’s population is only three thousand, so everyone knew almost everyone else, including the drug dealers. I didn’t understand what meth was, only that cooking it could blow up your kitchen and that tinfoil in the windows of a house was a bad sign. As a farmer, my dad applied nitrogen fertilizer to his fields with big tanks of anhydrous ammonia. If I should ever smell ammonia, he taught me in no uncertain terms, I should immediately get away. The tanks were prime targets for meth cooks, and they sometimes sat in our driveway at night.

I wanted to write a story about those innocent days when meth hadn’t yet become an epidemic, when meth dealers and users were regular people and not participants in a public crisis. To be clear, meth is terrible, and this story was informed in part by Nick Reding’s excellent book Methland: The Death and Life of an American Small Town. But it was also inspired by the people in my hometown, kids who rode the school bus and played baseball with me, who were smart and funny and also, perhaps, stealing ammonia from anhydrous tanks, planning to make a little money and hoping not to end up blind or dead from suffocation.

Todd Robinson is the creator and chief editor of the multi-award-winning crime fiction magazine Thuglit. He has been nominated three times for the Derringer Award, thrice shortlisted for The Best American Mystery Stories, selected for Writer’s Digest’s Year’s Best Writing 2003, and lost the Anthony Award both in 2013 (Best Short Story) and 2014 (Best First Novel, for The Hard Bounce). His inclusion in this edition joyfully brings his Susan Lucci — like streak to a close. His newest novel, Rough Trade, was recently released.

• “Trash” arose from several elements within my personal periphery. Living in New York City, passing by the traditional massage parlor becomes a part of everyday life — a criminal underbelly of sex trafficking that is not only near-impossible to police but that exists just under the periphery of the bright and shiny tourist trap that the city has become. During a conversation with a friend who lives in Flushing, Queens (an area notorious for its numerous shady spas), she talked about the “tells” she’d developed in distinguishing the obviously questionable businesses from those that might actually be offering therapeutic services. Later that night, on the subway home, I saw one of the many “If You See Something, Say Something” posters intended to keep the city safe from terrorist acts. The story about a young man, not jaded enough yet to simply ignore the horrors around him, began to form.

Kristine Kathryn Rusch has published mystery, science fiction, romance, nonfiction, and just about everything else under a wide variety of names. Her Smokey Dalton mystery novels, written under her pen name Kris Nelscott, have received acclaim worldwide. She’s been nominated for the Edgar and the Shamus (as both Nelscott and Rusch), and the Anthony, and she has repeatedly won Ellery Queen’s Mystery Magazine’s Readers Choice Award for best short story of the year. Her short stories have been reprinted in more than twenty best-of-the-year collections, including two previous appearances in The Best American Mystery Stories.

Rusch also edits. Her anthology Women of Futures Past has just appeared, reprinting classic science fiction by important women writers. Along with John Helfers, she completed the first Best Mysteries of the Year anthology, which focuses on worldwide mystery fiction. With her husband, Dean Wesley Smith, she acts as series editor for the Fiction River anthology series. She also edits at least one mystery volume per year for that line.

Rusch often writes cross-genre fiction. Her character Miles Flint, from her Retrieval Artist series, has been chosen as one of the top ten science fiction detectives by io9 and as one of the fourteen science fiction and fantasy detectives who could out — Sherlock Holmes by the popular website blastr. Her most recent pure mystery novel, Spree, written under her Rusch name, was published in 2013. Her next Nelscott mystery will start a new series. That book, A Gym of Her Own, will appear in 2017.

• I live in a beach town on the Oregon coast. Seven thousand of us live here year-round, but the town has over 150,000 hotel rooms. My daily runs take me past several of those hotels. Two days before Christmas, I ran past a nearly empty hotel parking lot as a little girl, no more than eight, got out of a van. She said loudly, “Will Santa know how to find us?” I never heard anyone answer her. But by the time I had gone to the end of the block, I had the entire scenario for this story in my head. That rarely happens, so I’m grateful to the little girl for her concerns. I never saw her again. I wish I had. I would love to thank her for the inspiration she gave me.

Most of Georgia Ruth’s work is gently layered with situations that foster discourse. Because perspective influences behavior, her stories offer a psychological window to examine the motivation for a crime amid tangled relationships. Many of her tales explore historical conflict between cultures. Her most recent manuscript, Rampart of the Phoenix, is a historical suspense novel with roots in mythology.

Georgia Ruth lives in the storied gold-mining foothills of North Carolina, where she records and shares the folklore of neighbors who can trace family roots back to Wales and Ireland. Her former careers in family restaurant management and retail sales inspire an endless source of fictional characters and conflicts. Published short stories are listed on her website, http://www.georgiaruthwrites.us.

• In “The Mountain Top,” I pivot from a focus on the past to speculation on a future without national structure, where communities slide backward from protected individual freedoms to a lawlessness, dependent upon shared morality but susceptible to the power of a strongman.

When I jumped out of the workforce onto the shaky ledge of retirement, the national debt was out of sight. There were rumors that the Social Security program I had continuously supported for fifty years could not sustain itself. We moved to a log cabin in a remote area where we could reinvent ourselves. My husband discovered a love for gardening, and I was free to exercise latent writing skills. Like many others, I put fingers to keyboard to probe my thoughts. Fear and greed are the roots of “The Mountain Top,” but its theme is a fierce devotion to family.

Jonathan Stone does most (but not all) of his writing on the commuter train between his home in Connecticut and his job as a creative director for a midtown Manhattan advertising agency. His seven published novels include Two for the Show, The Teller, Moving Day, and Parting Shot. His short stories appear in the two most recent story anthologies from the Mystery Writers of America: The Mystery Box, edited by Brad Meltzer, and Ice Cold — Tales of Intrigue from the Cold War, edited by Jeffery Deaver.

• I’m sure it’s easy for a moderately astute reader to guess that George the mailman is based on our neighborhood mailman, also named George, now retired, who delivered our mail with a wave and a smile for as long as I can remember. I’m sure the moderately astute reader can also guess that the neighborhood itself is based on my own — a stable, staid, suburban cul-de-sac where many of us have raised our kids together and now grow old with one another. Even Muscovito is based on a neighbor who moved in, renovated a charming little cape into an architectural monstrosity, disrupted everything, and soon moved out — thank god.

What an astute reader would hardly guess, however, is that the story was written on sunny Caribbean mornings during a vacation on St. John, USVI, with my wife, my daughter, and her best friend, Liza. Writing a scene or two on the patio before anyone else was awake, then joining the girls for breakfast, then sunning, swimming, snorkeling, and snacking the rest of the day away — for a guy who normally grinds out fiction on a bouncing laptop on a cramped, jangling commuter train, that, my friends, is the way to write! (Then again, it’s the cramped commuter train that makes possible the St. John vacation.) As for such a dark story coming from such a sunny clime? Hey, if you want sunny, you’ve got the wrong writer — and the wrong story collection.

Art Taylor has won two Agatha Awards, the Anthony Award, the Macavity Award, and three consecutive Derringer Awards for his short fiction. On the Road with Del & Louise: A Novel in Stories, his first book, won the Agatha Award for Best First Novel. An associate professor of English at George Mason University, Taylor also writes frequently about mystery and suspense fiction for the Washington Post, the Washington Independent Review of Books, and Mystery Scene.

• More so than with any of my other stories, I’m able to chart clearly the genesis of “Rearview Mirror” and the various factors that led me to write it: a trip with my wife, Tara, to New Mexico that followed much the same path as Del and Louise’s travels; a Washington Post short story contest whose prompt was a photograph I describe almost exactly in this story’s twelfth paragraph; and a challenge from my wife, who’s also a writer, for us each to enter that contest, which got me writing this story in the first place. What I’ve never been able to figure out, however, is where Louise’s voice came from. While I admire voice-driven stories (Eudora Welty’s “Why I Live at the P.O.” and Ring Lardner’s “Haircut” jump to mind as favorites), I don’t often write them myself. But in this case Louise’s voice appeared somewhere in my head and then found its way onto the page, and suddenly that voice was driving the story, with me simply following along the best I could, struggling to keep up.

Another journey I didn’t map out beforehand: how these characters, who took their earliest steps in the pages of Ellery Queen’s Mystery Magazine, would embark on these more extensive, more elaborately developed travels in my novel in stories, On the Road with Del & Louise — venturing to Victorville, California, through Napa Valley and Las Vegas, and then up to Williston, North Dakota, before turning toward Louise’s home state of North Carolina — adventures that together form the larger story of their evolving relationship, a quest to figure out who they are, what they mean to one another, and where they belong.

Maybe — as Del and Louise learn, and as I’ve learned myself — you sometimes just need to trust that whatever road you choose might ultimately take you where you need to go.

Susan Thornton is the author of On Broken Glass: Loving and Losing John Gardner, a memoir about the celebrated author of Grendel. Her fiction and poetry have appeared in The Seattle Review, Puerto del Sol, The Literary Review, Paintbrush Journal, Dark Fire Fiction, and others. A former journalist, editor, and technical writer, she now lives in Binghamton, New York, where she teaches French. Visit her blog at http://susan-thornton.tumblr.com.

• While working as an editor at a research institute at Binghamton University, I read a great deal about sex trafficking and thought for a long time about how to dramatize this issue. My goal was to humanize my protagonist and to highlight her blamelessness, her courage, her determination. Because I teach middle school, when I think about victims of trafficking I think about my students — their strengths, their abilities, their weaknesses, their goals — and how they participate in all the drama of the human condition.

I have been to San Diego, Tijuana and Baja Mexico, and El Paso, Texas. I went to AAA for maps of California, Arizona, and Baja Mexico, and spent hours poring over books about the Sonoran Desert, peering at Google Earth, figuring out the setting and plotting the route of my heroine.

My literary model was Ambrose Bierce. I wanted to do an homage to him and his story “An Occurrence at Owl Creek Bridge.” Bierce’s story ends with the reveal and the death of his character. I added a coda to take the focus off my protagonist and place her drama in a larger social and political context.

I was strongly influenced by John Gardner, who had been my teacher and my lover. At the end of his life, John’s last lecture to his students at the Bread Loaf Writers’ Conference centered on this message: “if you are not writing politically, you are not writing.” In crafting my story I took his challenge to heart: to write politically and to create a vivid narrative.

When I was a child I was surrounded by people who read mysteries and crime fiction: my father, my mother, their friends. Dad had a subscription to Ellery Queen’s Mystery Magazine. We watched Alfred Hitchcock on television. As a teenager I devoured Sherlock Holmes (we had a two-volume anthology), while Mom and Dad read Margery Allingham, Dorothy Sayers, Ngaio Marsh. I still have Dad’s 1957 volume A Treasury of Great Mysteries. I remember their delight with P. D. James’s creation of a female protagonist for her novel An Unsuitable Job for a Woman. Deep in my heart I have always wanted to write a mystery story that would show up in an anthology my mom and dad would have been likely to buy. This dream has now been fulfilled.

Brian Tobin is the author of four novels: The Ransom, The Missing Person, Below the Line, and A Victimless Crime. His short fiction has appeared in Ellery Queen’s Mystery Magazine and Alfred Hitchcock’s Mystery Magazine. In 2015 his short story “Teddy” was nominated for an Edgar Award. He lives in Los Angeles with his wife, Vickie.

• “Entwined” was inspired by an episode of This American Life in which the writer Darin Strauss recounted his teenage experience of having struck and killed a bicyclist who swerved into the path of his car. His account was compelling, not only for the quality of his prose but also for the acuity of his self-examination.

Plotting a story is usually difficult for me, involving many false starts and wrong turns. I was listening to This American Life during a morning walk. By the time I reached home, I had the story fully formed in my imagination.

Saral Waldorf is a medical anthropologist who has lived and worked in various countries in Africa (Uganda, Lesotho, Cameroon, Malawi, Benin) and elsewhere (Malta, Thailand, Turkmenistan), these places often serving as background for her short stories. She has published stories in Anthropology and Humanism Quarterly, Commentary, The Hudson Review, and The Southern Review.

• Growing up, I and my two sisters were brought up not on fairy tales but on mysteries, because my parents, Darwin L. Teilhet and Hildegarde T. Teilhet, wrote them jointly, separately, and under pseudonyms from the 1930s to the 1960s, and I am particularly honored to have made this slight contribution to a genre that they so assiduously loved and promoted. I also would like to thank editor Emily Nemens of The Southern Review, who took a stab in the dark and published my story, which explores an old theme in literature, the well-intentioned stranger in someone else’s “exotic” country who leaves either wiser or not.

The stranger, in this case, is Dr. Gaynor, a female white doctor running a district hospital in Chitipa, Malawi, and tells of her two brief encounters with Hastings, a young, locally born thief back from the capital to visit his mother. There is no real drama between the two — their first encounter is hardly noticeable and simply by chance — yet the deadliness of their final one is dictated, in some sense, by their being from different worlds with different demands and expectations.

I myself did live in Chitipa for two years as a somewhat aged Peace Corps volunteer sent to help set up and run the first AIDS clinic at the district hospital there, which served a population of 125,000. Although Dr. Gaynor and I shared some experiences, I luckily had a much more benign outcome, as related in a memoir kept of these years, The Condom Lady, which is now out for publishing review. I should note that one of my neighbors, the accountant Mr. Majonga, in Line #8, the hospital’s small row of tin-roofed cinderblock houses for middle management, was a mad mystery story fan who owned and traded almost as many worn and torn street-vendor-bought Agatha Christie and James Patterson paperbacks as I did.