Angela
Henry was once told that her past life careers included spy, researcher, and
investigator. She stuck with what she knew because today she’s a mystery
writing library reference specialist, who loves to people watch and eavesdrop
on conversations. She’s the author of six mysteries featuring equally nosy
amateur sleuth Kendra Clayton, as well as the thriller The Paris Secret and the
Xavier Knight Urban Fantasy series. She also writes middle grade novels under
the pen name Angie Kelly. When she’s not working, writing, or practicing her
stealth, She loves to travel, is a connoisseur of B horror movies, and a
functioning anime addict. She lives in Ohio with her gamer guy and is currently
hard at work trying to meet my next deadline.
How can readers get in contact with
you?
Readers
can contact me through the contact form on my website: http://angelahenry.com
or directly at: angela@angelahenry.com
What inspired your book?
Doing It
To Death, just like Sly, Slick & Wicked before it, was inspired by my love
of old school R&B. I heard the song on the radio one day and just knew it
would be the perfect title and inspiration for the next Kendra Clayton mystery.
What would you like readers to take
away from your book?
That the
past always has a way of catching up with you.
Why did you choose to write mysteries?
I’ve
always loved mystery novels and movies since I was kid. But unfortunately there
are very few mystery series featuring African-American characters. So I decided
to write the kind of book I would enjoy reading.
Which
character did you have the most fun writing about?
I
currently have three series. So all my main characters are my favorites when
I’m writing about
them. But Kendra remains near and dear to my heart because
she’s my first.
What advice would you offer to
someone whose book is about to be released?
Let
everyone know about your book. I can’t speak for other authors. But I have a
hard time tooting my own horn and talking my books up to potential readers. But
if no one knows about your book, no one will read it. So you have to step out
of your comfort zone. I’d also recommend learning all you can about book
marketing and promotion. There’s a glut of information online as well as some
excellent books and classes.
What does literary success look
like to you?
For me
literary success would mean solely supporting myself through my writing.
What are three things you wish
you’d known before you reached where you are now?
1) I wish I’d known that publishing is a
business and being rejected by a publisher or literary agent often has nothing
to do with the quality of your writing.
2) Reviews are for other readers and not
for the author. Don’t obsess over them!
3) Whether you’re self-published or
traditionally published, promoting your books are your responsibility.
What do you do to interact with
your readers?
I interact
with readers through my newsletter and my Facebook page and Twitter.
What are your three favorite social
media platforms and how are you using them for promotion?
My
favorites would be Twitter, Facebook, and Pinterest. I use them to post my book
news and events. I also love sharing books I’ve read or am reading and pictures
that inspire my writing.
What are you reading this Summer?
I have a
mountain high TBR pile. So, I’m not sure what I’ll be reading this summer.
When you're not writing, what do
you like to do in your spare time?
I love to
travel and watch movies.
Oprah always asks, what do you know
for sure?
I know for
sure that I have many more books in me.
Can you give us a sneak peek of
your next book?
Sure.
Here’s an excerpt from Doing It To Death:
I was busy
scanning the front page of the Willow-News Gazette as I flung the screen door
open to let the dog back in. So I didn’t notice when the screen door didn’t
slam shut right away. In fact, I was so engrossed in the paper, I didn’t notice
that the beagle had brought something in with her besides her rawhide bone
until I heard heavy footsteps echoing behind the click of Queenie’s claws on
the linoleum. I was so startled, I dropped the newspaper and stumbled back
against the counter and stared at the stranger standing in Mama’s kitchen. It
was a man, a tall, heavyset, dark skinned man over six feet tall, with sunken
eyes, and grey stubble dotting his cheeks. He wore a blue warm-up suit
underneath a bulky green parka, the zipped up warm-up jacket straining over his
large belly, a white baseball cap, and black trainers. I couldn’t tell how old
he was but if I had to guess would put him somewhere between late fifties to
mid-sixties.
“Sorry,” he said, giving me a sheepish
look. He held up his hands and took a step backwards. “I knocked and when you
flung the door open I assumed you were inviting me in.” As he spoke I saw the glint
of a gold tooth.
“Who are you?” I said when I finally found
my voice.
“Name’s Delbert Bentley. But folks just
call me Dibb.” He took a step forward and held out a meaty hand for me to
shake. I eyed his hand dubiously before reaching out and giving it a quick
shake vaguely wondering if I’d just shaken the hand that was about to strangle
me.
“And you’re here because?” I let the
question hang in the air.
“I was just lookin’ for a buddy of mine and
someone told me you was his lady and might know where he is. You’re Kelly,
right?” He didn’t wait for my answer and started looking around like this so
called friend of his might pop out of one of the cabinets.
Was he talking about Carl? I guess he could
be a friend of Carl’s but somehow I doubted it. I’d meet most of Carl’s friends
and this man wasn’t one of them. Maybe he was someone Carl had represented in
court or gave legal advice to when he was doing pro bono work for Holy Cross
Ministries.
“Actually, my name is Kendra, and if you’re
looking for Carl, he moved to Atlanta and I don't have his number. But I can
give you his work address.” Somehow admitting that I didn’t have my ex’s phone
number and address embarrassed me. But it was true. The one and only letter I’d
gotten from Carl since he’d moved to Atlanta was from his work address. I had
no other way to get in contact with him.
“Who’s Carl?” asked my visitor looking very
confused, which made me confused.
“Carl Brumfield, my ex. Didn’t you say you
were looking for him?”
“Don’t know no one named Carl.”
“Well, are you looking Leonard Duncan?” I
asked when it occurred to me he might be looking for Mama’s new husband.
“Nope. I’m talking about Lewis Watts.
You’re his woman, right?”
Huh? Who in the hell would have told this
man that I was short ass, processed hair having, pimp suit wearing, old enough
to be my father Lewis Watts’s woman? This had to be some kind of sick joke.
“Look mister Dubb…” I began.
“It’s Dibb,” he corrected.
“Okay,” I said, taking a deep breath. “I
don’t know where you’re getting your information from or what kind of game
you’re trying to play, but I am most certainly not Lewis Watts’s woman.”
“My bad, little sister,” he said,
chuckling softly at my outraged expression. “But you kinda looked like you was
his woman in this picture.” He pulled a snapshot from the pocket of his coat
and handed it to me. I stared at it suspiciously before taking it from him.
Then I took a look at it and felt my face flush with embarrassment that it even
existed in the first place, especially when I didn’t even remember posing for
it. Actually, that's not exactly true. I remembered the pose. It was the camera
I was a little foggy on since I’d been half drunk off fuzzy navels at the time.
In the
picture I was dressed in a blue halter dress with a pimp hat complete with a
pink feather sticking out of the brim, broken down over my left eye. I was
sitting astride a Ducati motorcycle with Lewis standing next to me with his arm
draped around my shoulders, while I wore a goofy grin on my face. It was the
one and only piece of evidence that I had actually gone out on a date with
Lewis Watts. But I’d had good reason, or so I thought at the time. Lewis had
information that I needed and going out with him was the price I had to pay to
get it. But I’d ended up paying a much higher price in the end as Carl had seen
me getting into Lewis’s car that night and got the wrong idea. He thought I was
cheating on him, dumped me, and moved away. There was, of course, more to the
story but you get the gist. Impulsively, I turned the picture over and saw the
words Lewis and Kelly, 1999
Distinguished Gents Annual Pimp & Ho Ball. I
winced.
“Where did
you get this?”
“From the
Distinguished Gents Club House over in Dayton. It was tacked up on the bulletin
board.”
“Well,
this is just one picture from one night. I’m not, nor have I ever been, his
woman,” I replied through tight lips. I started to stuff the photo in my pocket
so I could burn it later. But my unwanted guest reached out and snatched it
back.
“Makes no
never mind to me whether you his woman or not. I just need to track him down.”
“He’s a
custodian at Springmont High. Have you…”
“Already
done checked there,” he said cutting me off. “They said he quit right before
Christmas. He don’t stay over on Foreman Street no more and the high school
won’t give me his address. So do you
know where he lives or not?” He asked impatiently with a slight sneer. Despite
his initial pretense at politeness, I could tell this was not a nice man and I
wanted him out of Mama’s house, now.
“Not,” I
said, then walked over to the back door and pushed it open, the cold January
air nipped at my cheeks. And to my great relief, he walked past me out onto the
porch.
“Well, if you
happen to see him would you give him a message for me?” I hadn’t seen Lewis
since our date back in the fall. But if it would hurry my visitor along so I
could get back into my warm house, I’d happily comply.
“Yeah,
sure. What is it?”
“You tell
him Dibb Bentley’s back and I need that thing that I left at his place the
night Otis Redding died.”
It was on
the tip of my tongue to ask him what thing he was talking about but when I
looked up into his hard, flat eyes, I realized I didn't want to know. Thankfully,
he didn’t wait for a reply and left. I stepped back into the house, letting the
screen door slam shut behind me, and closed and locked the backdoor for good
measure. The noise got Queenie’s attention and she pulled her head out of her
food bowl and ran to the door and started barking like crazy.
“Some
guard dog you are,” I told her before heading into the basement to do my
laundry.
Anything you'd like to say to the
readers of SORMAG?
Yes! A big
thanks for interviewing me LaShaunda and letting me share about my writing and
the new Kendra Clayton mystery. Also, if you’re new to my writing please
consider signing up for my newsletter at http://angelahnery.com to get a FREE
Angela Henry Starter Library, which includes The Company You Keep (the first
book in the Kendra Clayton series), The Paris Secret (featuring librarian Maya
Sinclair), and Trick Dice, a short story exclusive to subscribers.
Kendra Clayton finds herself once
again on the trail of a killer when a case of mistaken identity lands her smack
in the middle of a decades old beef between an ex con named Dibb Bentley and
her least favorite person on the planet, Lewis Watts. And when their beef turns
deadly, and Lewis is arrested, Kendra has a hard time turning a blind eye,
especially when the evidence against Lewis doesn’t add up. But when the killer
targets Kendra, and Detective Blake Mason insists she stay with him for her own
protection, Kendra doesn’t know what she’s more afraid of, a murderer lurking
in the shadows, or her growing attraction to Mason, who has heart-break written
all over him.
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