6am. I run a motel. At least, I used to run a motel, back before people started moving in and. Never. Moving. Out. Now I run some kind of bleepin’ commune, with a few renting rooms on the side to turn a buck.

6.30 am. Okay. I had my coffee. I do run a motel and you might even say that having a few permanent residents means I don’t need to worry about the end of tourist season. Anyway, Cuento, CA, is 90mins from San Francisco, 90mins from Tahoe and 90mins from Napa. So, even when summer is over, you got Bay Area types going up to break their collarbones on expensive snow and Capitol types going to drown their imaginary sorrows in a nice Shiraz. We do okay.

But not if the beds aren’t made and the complimentary bagel station isn’t stacked with cream cheese.

7.30am. I hate people nowadays. Were they always this way? No, they weren’t. If I’d behaved like these moppets behave when my mama and daddy took me on a trip, they’da left me at the side of the road. And the parents are worse. (Of course they are; that’s where the moppets get it from.) You believe this bunch that just checked out? Complaining that the free food wasn’t what they preferred? I took my highlighter pen and drew the route to the nearest breakfast café on one of my Chamber of Commerce pictorial maps.

Anyway, gotta run to CostCo. The motel business is a lot of shopping.

10.30am. Is there anywhere in this world more annoying than CostCo? The way I see it, if you wanna eat, go to a restaurant. If you wanna buy a ten-pack of five hundred single-use coffee pods, you should be able to do it without crashing into a buncha moochers dragging round in search of tastings. I keep saying I’m gonna start shopping online, but they had maple bacon churros today, fresh out of a fryer right there in the store. I’m only human.

12noon. After check-out and before check-in is my quiet time, on days when my partner (in business and in life) is on sheet change. It’s my little chance to restock my inner fridge with the milk of human kindness, via an online poker game. Hey, I tried meditation – it made me grind my teeth. I even tried watching videos of kittens meeting puppies, but it’s no fun if there’s nothing riding on it. A walk in the fresh air? Gimme a break.

2pm. Twenty bucks to the good and with a nice tray of sushi under my belt, I am ready for anything. Diego, eight-year-old charmer and one of those permanent residents I mentioned, usually stops in after school to let me know what he learned today from his teacher and love-of-his-life Srta. Moreno: there are six kinds of triangles! No one can sniff their own ear!

3pm. Check-in time. I promise myself I will be calm and polite like the businesswoman I play the lottery so I can stop being. I will listen to every diva-ish request and not swear even once. But seriously! I ask you! How can someone need extra towels before they’ve checked in? Before they even know how many towels are in the room? Sometimes, when they ask for “a couple of extra towels” I say “You need fourteen towels?” Then they say no and feel stupid. Of course, I have to text Kathi and ask her to run eight towels to room whatever real quick, and then I have to stall the terrycloth fetishists until she texts me back to say she’s done. Totally worth it.

5pm. The first check-in rush – the booked ahead folks – is over and the second bottle-neck – the can’t drive another mile folks – isn’t due to start for hours. Now’s the time to head out front to the forecourt and visit with these annoying people who should be gone but have stayed so long they’re family. We sit poolside with margaritas in the summer. We sit under patio heaters with . . . well, still margaritas usually . . . in the winter. And we talk. Todd and Roger – the doctors (long story), Lexy and Taylor from the houseboat (long story but pretty funny), Diego, his mama Della, his stepdad Dylan, and the baby too. We talk about everything under the sun, with special emphasis on who’s cooking or if we’re getting pizza.

And then comes my favorite moment of every day. I hear the deadlock turn on the Skweeky-Kleen Laundromat attached to our little slice of heaven and here comes Kathi Muntz, my partner in all of life’s joys and sorrows. She likes anchovies on her pizza but apart from that she’s perfect. It’s sweet life we got, her and me.


Scot In A Trap, A Last Ditch Mystery #5
Genre: Cozy
Release: December 2022
Purchase Link

In this darkly funny mystery Lexy Campbell’s first love turns up dead at the Last Ditch Motel on Thanksgiving . . . and she becomes the prime suspect!

A mysterious object the size of a suitcase, all wrapped in bacon and smelling of syrup, can mean only one thing: Thanksgiving at the Last Ditch Motel. This year the motel residents are in extra-celebratory mood as the holiday brings a new arrival to the group – a bouncing baby girl.

But as one life enters the Ditch, another leaves it. Menzies Lassiter has only just checked in. When resident counsellor Lexy Campbell tries to deliver his breakfast the next day, she finds him checked out. Permanently. Shocking enough if he were stranger, but Lexy recognises that face. Menzies was her first love until he broke her heart many years ago.

What’s he doing at the Last Ditch? What’s he doing dead? And how can Lexy escape the fact that she alone had the means, the opportunity – and certainly the motive – to kill him?


About the author
Catriona McPherson (she/her) was born in Scotland and immigrated to the US in 2010. She writes: preposterous 1930s detective stories, set in the old country and featuring an aristocratic sleuth; modern comedies set in the Last Ditch Motel in fictional (yeah, sure) California; and, darker than both of those (which is not difficult), a strand of contemporary psychological thrillers.

Her books have won or been shortlisted for the Edgar, the Anthony, the Agatha, the Lefty, the Macavity, the Mary Higgins Clark award and the UK Ellery Queen Dagger. She has just introduced a fresh character in In Place Of Fear, which finally marries her love of historicals with her own working-class roots, but right now, she’s writing the sixth book in what was supposed to be the Last Ditch trilogy.

Catriona is a proud lifetime member and former national president of Sisters in Crime. Connect with her at catrionamcpherson.com.

All comments are welcomed.

GIVEAWAY: Catriona has generously offered to give away one print copy of Scot In A Trap. To enter, please leave a comment below. One entry per person and the giveaway is limited to U.S. residents only. Giveaway ends December 7, 2022. Good luck everyone!