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Welcome to the official web site of author Stan Jones! Sand Garden Reviews Stan Jones, a
master of the northern mystery, takes the genre to California with a co-written
detective novel
Published
Jan. 14,2024 January is a good month to get out of Alaska and go someplace warm. Plenty of Alaskans are doing just that, but if you’re unable to get Outside right now, let longtime Alaskan writer Stan Jones take you on a vicarious trip someplace warm. Or in this case, some place a little too warm. Palm Springs in summer. It might make you appreciate winter. Jones is
best known to readers for his long-running
Nate Active detective novel series set in the
fictional Arctic village of Chukchi, a
stand-in for Kotzebue. He’s proven his chops
as a mystery writer with those stories, which
are filled with all the requisite elements of
the genre, including a strong evocation of the
place where events unfold, solid character
development, and enough plot twists to keep
readers guessing where the tales are going. This time
out he’s taking a break from the chilly north
and relocating to the southwestern desert
where, along with co-writer Mary Wasche of
Minnesota (another cold place in January),
he’s launched a new series that follows former
cop and current private investigator Dana
Forsythe. If the first installment is any
indication, the two are on to something fun. “The Sand
Garden” opens up on a sweltering night at
Dana’s home, where she receives one of her
periodic visits from a man known to her only
as the Chaplain. He’s a mysterious individual
with a background in the military and
clandestine government activities. This visit
is different, however. This time he arrives
with young twins and a load of baby gear. They
aren’t just any babies, Dana quickly learns.
Their children fathered by her husband, Frank,
another cop, who was killed in the line of
duty. Dana, who has been grieving his loss,
had no idea her husband had been having an
affair, much less that children were involved.
And she’s the only one who can do anything for
them, because their mother, Jennifer Williams,
was murdered earlier that evening by an
unknown assailant. Dana is
stunned. She doesn’t know what to do with the
kids. And while she suddenly finds herself
enraged at her dead husband, and is
immediately filled with anger at Jennifer, she
still ultimately winds up working on the case.
This is detective fiction, so it can go no
other way. Jennifer,
we learn, was found on a roadside in the
desert shot with one bullet in the throat and
five more in her crotch. The bullet that
entered her neck has not been recovered, but
the other five have, and it’s assumed they all
came from the same gun. She was a dangerously
attractive woman who drew men to her,
apparently doted on her twins, and worked at
the Palm Springs chamber of commerce. Who
murdered her and why are unanswered questions. Dana teams
up with another private investigator, Ike
Skogel, to get to the bottom of the case. The
two start digging about, and in mystery novel
fashion, begin piecing together the
circumstances of the killing and finding the
people who saw her that night. This takes
Dana, sometimes accompanied by Ike, around
ritzy Palm Springs, as well as to the other
side of the nearby, heavily polluted, and now
dead Salton Sea, where the squatter camp known
as Slab City rests (Alaskans, as well as
legions of misguided pilgrims, will recognize
Slab City as one of Christopher McCandless’
stops on his westward journey across America
that preceded his misbegotten trek north). One
resident of the camp was with Jennifer on the
night she was killed and was seen leaving a
party with her, so the duo pays him a visit,
allowing the authors to recreate that uniquely
Californian locale. [With a
lifetime of Alaska experiences under his belt,
author Stan Jones tackles a new series] On the
wealthy side of the Salton, the two also
question a real estate agent and her plastic
surgeon husband, who specializes in boob jobs.
The power couple are living the good life,
which of course means that wealth, status, and
a vapid lifestyle are their stock in trade.
Between Slab City and Palm Springs, the
authors, neither of whom live in California,
have concocted one hell of a California novel,
capturing the Golden State at two of its
extremes. Jones and
Wasche bring to life a Palm Springs that is
almost a reverse image of Alaska. Instead of
being too cold, it’s far too hot. For Alaskan
readers, tiring out now from several months of
warming their cars up to get the heat going so
the interior can be thawed out enough to sit
in it and drive, what Dana deals with is
starting her car and letting it warm up enough
for the air conditioning to kick in and cool
the passenger compartment down enough to make
it habitable. That sounds like even less fun.
After all, you can dress for the cold, but you
can only get undressed so much for the heat. How hot is
it? “Outside heat monkeys dance on the asphalt
griddle of the parking lot,” the authors tell
us through Dana’s first person present tense
voice. “Not a cloud in the sky, a blue so
bright your eyes hurt. The palm trees along
the sides bow before a hot dry wind that
brooms sand across the pavement. We throw open
the door and dash for our cars.” This
sounds like the evil anti-Alaska, and might
even make readers appreciate January a bit
more. Jones and
Wasche place a few red herrings into the plot,
present a few suspects (including Dana
herself, who certainly, had she known about
the affair, would have had the motive to kill
Jennifer, something the Palm Springs media
picks up on), offer some unexpected twists,
and keep readers guessing. Revealing too much
would spoil the fun of reading this book. And
it is a fun book. The two
authors work well together, and the story
moves along briskly. And with heat and
blistering sunshine from start to finish, it’s
the perfect getaway for cold January evenings
in Alaska.
David A. James is
a Fairbanks-based freelance writer, and
editor of the Alaska literary collection
“Writing on the Edge.” He can be reached at
nobugsinak@gmail.com.
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