Phyllis Smallman and a Different Kind of Sleuth

Phyllis Smallman

I have to say Phyllis Smallman beat me to an idea I had that I haven’t quite developed – a homeless person as a sleuth. It’s a terrific conceit, especially when you consider just how invisible homeless people are, sadly. Anyway, you can find out more about Phyllis and her character Singer Brown at her website www.phyllissmallman.com. Or you can read below.

Who is Singer Brown and whatever possessed me to write about this homeless woman? The two main reasons were Janis Joplin and Jack Reacher.

I saw her as a Jack Reacher character, moving from city to city and finding trouble wherever she went. And then there was Janis Joplin. I’ve always wondered if Janis would have found a place in the music scene that came after her? I don’t think so, and Singer didn’t either. She left home at sixteen to sing in a rock band and almost made it, almost a star, but bad choices, of lifestyle and men, took away her options. Now she lives in her old yellow van and sings on the street for coins. Her life consists of watching the lives of others unfold, and watching for danger, while constantly being told to move on. Life on the street turns women into prey, but Singer is no easy victim. And Singer has discovered, there are benefits to being one of the unseen people. When she wants the perfect disguise, she mutters to herself and has arguments with invisible adversaries, becoming that person everyone gives a wide berth.

Life on the street may have robbed her of her dignity and her sense of belonging, but it hasn’t taken away her humanity, her deep sense of right and wrong. In Saving Kali, while parked in an alley between derelict buildings, she sees a woman take a pre-school girl into an abandoned factory and come out alone. Singer tells herself not to get involved, rhymes off a list of reasons to ignore what she saw. And besides, there’s probably a good explanation for what just happened. The problem is she can’t think of one.

Singer hardly has time to pat herself on the back for her courage before unintended consequences put her at great risk. Does she save herself or does she do the right thing? And what is the right thing? For Singer, it seems to depend on the situation.  For instance, in Long Gone Man she goes to a small island of the coast of British Columbia to kill the man who destroyed her life.

Beach Kill is my latest book in this series. Singer is in love and is tempted into a normal existence. But life has a different plan for Singer. When a teenage girl is killed and mutilated, first by man and then by nature, Singer identifies her by the blue butterfly on her ankle.

Singer represents my worst fears. To be without a safe space to call my own, without people who love me, is a terrifying thought but one, in the deep recesses of my heart, that has always seemed possible. In writing Singer, I’m writing my fears. Strange therapy, isn’t it?

You can find Beach Kill at Barnes and Noble and Amazon.com.

Anne Louise Bannon

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