Introduction from the Author
Family, friendship, and good food, all wrapped up in a Gothic-tinged locked-room mystery that pays homage to deliciously devious classic mysteries like those of Agatha Christie and John Dickson Carr—that’s what I set out to create with Under Lock & Skeleton Key.
This is my twelfth novel, and one that took me a long time to figure out how to write. The seed of an idea came to me years ago: What happens when a carpenter and a stage magician fall in love? They form a Secret Staircase Construction business to bring magic to people through their homes. I clearly saw the wondrous architectural creations such a family could build into houses, from sliding bookcases leading to secret libraries to fireplaces built with bricks that hide secrets. I even had an outline of the mystery. But I didn’t yet have the perfect main character who fit the idea. When I wrote a short story featuring Tempest Raj, she sprung to life so vividly that she demanded I do more with her. I knew, then, that I could write this book.
I’ve always been drawn to locked-room mysteries, the type of mystery in which a crime looks truly impossible. It’s the ultimate puzzle because not only are you looking for who did it but also how. My favorites have backdrops of spooky, Gothic elements that make you wonder if a supernatural hand is at work, but then are resolved with a satisfying rational explanation. I had such fun playing with those elements in Under Lock & Skeleton Key.
Tempest is an inquisitive and headstrong twenty-six-year-old woman who’s moved home to live with her multigenerational, multicultural family. Her maternal grandfather is South Indian, her grandmother is Scottish, her dad is an ethnically ambiguous Californian, and she has roots in all those places like I do. Her original life plan has failed, leaving her on the brink of a huge decision and a burning desire to figure out what’s meaningful in her life. It’s no coincidence that she’s the same age I was when my own life plan fell apart and I had to put it back together. The age when I began writing my first novel.
Like Tempest, I grew up in California in a multicultural family. From a young age, I traveled the world with my cultural anthropologist parents on their research trips and visits to far-flung family. As an only child entertaining myself on those travels, I read a lot of mysteries—and I began making up my own stories. I adored mysteries that gave readers all the clues to solve the puzzle but still provided delightfully surprising endings. My favorites were novels that along with a mystery were also an adventure with a strong heroine. But in all those wonderful books, I rarely saw characters who looked like me and my family—so I wrote them into my own stories. I also couldn’t resist making food a central element of so much of what I write, since it’s such a big part of my own life. I hope you’ll enjoy both the descriptions of family meals and the recipes in the back of this book.
I’m delighted that Under Lock & Skeleton Key is just the beginning. It’s the first book in my new Secret Staircase mystery series, and I’m having so much fun working on many more adventures for Tempest and her family and friends.
—Gigi Pandian
Chapter 1
Tempest Raj tested the smooth, hardwood floor once more. Following the floorboards from the beaten-up steamer trunk with three false bottoms to the window letting in moonlight, she didn’t hear a squeak anywhere. Good.
In the dim light, she walked the length of the room once more in her crimson ballet flats that were wearing thin over her left pinkie toe. She glanced at the antique clock on the wall. Seven minutes past midnight. There was no way she’d get to sleep for hours.
Satisfied that the floor wouldn’t make a sound, she stretched her shoulders, then arched into a backbend kick-over. As soon as her feet touched down, she pushed off into a pirouette. Then another. Spinning, she felt almost free.
Almost.
When she came to an abrupt halt a full minute later, she was breathing harder than she should have been, and she hadn’t vanished. Of course she hadn’t. This wasn’t a stage. There was no trap door underneath her. No audience. She was no longer The Tempest. She was simply Tempest Raj, back at home in her childhood bedroom. And apparently, she was already getting out of shape.
She took a bow for an audience of no one, then kicked off her shoes and flopped onto the bed. Unlike the solid floorboards, the box springs protested with a dreadful screech. The twin-size mattress poking her hip was oh-so-different from the luxurious California king she’d had in Las Vegas up until two weeks ago—when she’d had to sell nearly everything she owned and get out of Dodge.
She was trying to adjust. Really, she was. The schedule of a stage magician meant she never made it to bed until the “wee hours of the morning,” as Grannie Mor would say. But she needed sleep. Tomorrow was a big day. No, that wasn’t quite true. It might be a big day. She knew she shouldn’t get her hopes up. The proposal he mentioned might mean a number of things. She’d narrowed it down to the two most likely possibilities, one of which she was desperately hoping for. It was her way out of this mess. As for the other possibility? She’d decide what she thought after she saw him.
She shifted and tried to get away from the most offensive mattress spring. Looking up at the glow-in-the-dark stars from her childhood that still dotted the ceiling, Tempest wondered yet again how she’d gotten here. Everyone believed the stage accident that had wrecked her career and nearly killed her was due to her own negligence. The public, her manager, the venue, and even her supposed friends were quick to accept the worst about her, assuming it was true that she’d replaced the vetted illusions for something far more dangerous. Tempestuous Tempest, who knew she couldn’t top her previous show, but went too far trying to, putting her own life and those of many others in danger … Her actions preparing for the new, unsafe stunt had supposedly been witnessed. But there was someone who could easily impersonate Tempest. Her former stage double, Cassidy Sparrow.
When Cassidy dyed her naturally mahogany hair black, she looked eerily similar to Tempest. Cassidy wasn’t quite Tempest’s doppelgänger, but with her strong and curvy five-foot-ten frame, large brown eyes, and wild black hair that reached halfway down her back, she came close.
Cassidy had purposefully wrecked Tempest’s career. Sabotage. The threat of lawsuits still hung over Tempest’s head like a guillotine.
There was no other explanation for what had happened that terrible night. No, that wasn’t quite true. There was one other possible explanation, but Tempest couldn’t let herself believe it. There was no way it could be true. The first glimmer of such a terrible possibility appeared five years ago, when she first began to wonder if—no. She pushed all thought of it from her mind.
At least one person besides her family believed in her innocence. That’s why she was hopeful about seeing him tomorrow. This could be the first step in getting her life back on track.
She closed her eyes, but they popped back open. The constellations on the ceiling didn’t mirror reality, but if you looked carefully, you could see that the pinpricks of light formed a constellation in the shape of a skeleton key. A symbol that connected her and her mom, guiding the way home.
Copyright © 2022 by Gigi Pandian