Authors Interviewing Characters: Connie Berry
What happens when you mix a suspenseful & elegant mystery set in Victorian England with plenty of antiques, a loveable amateur sleuth, a touch of romance, and an incredibly dark secret? You get the latest book by Connie Berry titled The Shadow of Mem
At a seaside holiday camp over sixty years ago, Will, Vivian, and three other teens broke into an abandoned house where a doctor and his wife had died under bizarre circumstances two years earlier. Now, when a second member of the childhood gang dies unexpectedly—and then a third—it becomes clear that the teens had discovered more in the house than they had realized.
Had Will returned to warn his old love? When Kate makes a shocking connection between a sixty-year-old murder and the long-buried secrets of the sanatorium, she suddenly understands that time is running out for Vivian—and anyone connected to her.
A Conversation With Kate Hamilton & Ivor Tweedy
by Connie Berry, Author of the Kate Hamilton Mysteries
Hello and welcome! Today, to celebrate the launch of The Shadow of Memory, I’m chatting with two of my favorite characters in Long Barston, American antiques dealer Kate Hamilton and her colleague, Ivor Tweedy, owner of The Cabinet of Curiosities, a shop specializing in fine antiques and antiquities. They’ve recently been asked to auction off an unusual collection of antiques.
The spring-loaded bell on the shop door jingles.
I find Kate and Ivor near the sales counter, upon which rests a small crate, a mountain of cotton batting, and several dozen small silver boxes.
Connie: “I see you’re hard at work. Hope I’m not intruding.”
Ivor: “Always delighted to see you, my dear. We’re packing up a collection of sterling snuff boxes for shipment. Mostly French, mostly eighteenth century.” He holds up a small silver case, finely chased and marked with what looks like a crest.
Kate: “The entire lot was purchased by a collector in Monte Carlo.”
Ivor (shooting me a beatific smile): “Top price. Never even haggled.”
I have to laugh. Ivor’s as honest as a bluebell in May, but his skills as a super-salesman are legendary.
Connie: “Tell me about the upcoming auction. Sounds exciting.”
Kate: “We don’t have a lot of information yet. The board has invited us for lunch. We’ll have a chance to see what they’ve got on offer then.”
Connie: “The board?”
Kate: “The board of directors. It’s a real estate conversion. They’re turning Netherfield Sanatorium, a former Victorian insane asylum into luxury flats and townhouses. Each unit will cost more than a million pounds.”
Connie: “Really? Do you think wealthy people will want to live in a former insane asylum? Sounds creepy to me.”
Kate: “I thought the same thing, but the developers obviously believe the project will make a profit. And it is a stunning building. We’ve seen photographs.”
Connie: “What sort of items are they selling?”
I must have made a face because Ivor jumped in.
Ivor: “Well not leftover straightjackets and leg irons, if that’s what you’re thinking. The hospital was filled with antiques—oak and walnut furniture, bronze and marble statuary, small alabaster sculptures, Victorian chimney pieces and fire grates, art glass, some fine watercolors, and a collection of ornate wood-and-wire bird cages.”
Connie: “That doesn’t sound like a hospital.”
Kate: “You’re right. Some say Netherfield was more country house or five-star hotel than hospital. It was intended to treat fee-paying residents of the middle class who were expected to recover their mental stability after a period of rest and relaxation in lovely, peaceful surroundings.”
Connie: “Why are they selling the antiques? You’d think they’d want to use them.”
Ivor: “According to the board, the antiques no longer represent the “fresh modern vibe” they’re trying to create.” He raises an eyebrow. “We suspect they’re counting on the money from the sale.”
Connie: “So the hospital’s no longer housing patients.”
Kate: “Not since the nineteen sixties. Netherfield was a private hospital. When they realized they couldn’t compete with the National Health Service, they closed down and transferred the assets to the nation.”
Connie: “Where is this former institution?”
Kate: “That’s the best part. It’s a stunning location. The building overlooks the Suffolk coastline near the Deben estuary.”
Ivor: “Near a resort town called Miracle-on-Sea.”
Connie: “That’s an unusual name.”
Ivor: “The village was built as a playground for the wealthy in the early nineteenth century. Later, one of those holiday camps was built there. You know the kind of thing. Everything included in one price—meals, lodging, entertainment. Wakey, wakey—time for breakfast. Not what people want today, of course. The whole area is rather rundown.”
Connie: “I hate to say it, but this doesn’t really sound like your kind of thing, Ivor. Don’t you usually deal in finer objects?”
Ivor: “Ah—but that’s just it.” He raises a finger. “Including among the items for sale is a painting. Fifteenth century. Attributed to the Dutch master Jan Van Eyck.”
Connie: “Wow! That should fetch a royal price—and a commission to match.”
Kate: “We’re not counting our chicks just yet. The painting—“Christ Healing the Demoniac” isn’t among the list of paintings known to have been produced by Van Eyck.”
Connie: “What does that mean?”
Ivor: “Not a lot, truthfully. Van Eyck’s known works—portraits, miniatures, religious works and altarpieces—have been fully documented, but that doesn’t mean he didn’t paint other works as well. “Christ Healing the Demoniac” may have been a private commission. Or it may have been cut down from a larger work. We’ll have to see it with our own eyes before we make a judgment.”
Connie: “My goodness—a newly discovered masterpiece. It sounds like you can’t go wrong.”
Kate (looking skeptical): “I hope you’re right. We’ve heard a few whispers…rumors, mainly, about the place. Mysterious deaths. Accusations of malpractice. Feuds.”
Ivor (waving away her doubts): “Nothing to do with us. All we have to worry about is getting the best price for a Dutch masterpiece and selling some rather fine antiques.”
Kate: (not sounding convinced) “I’m sure you’re right.”
Connie: “Thanks for the information. Keep me posted.”
I left the shop, intrigued. And wondering why Kate looked so worried.
—
Connie Berry is the author of the Kate Hamilton Mysteries, set in the UK and featuring an American antiques dealer with a gift for solving crimes. Like her protagonist, Connie was raised by antiques dealers who instilled in her a passion for history, fine art, and travel. During college she studied at the University of Freiburg in Germany and St. Clare’s College, Oxford, where she fell under the spell of the British Isles.
In 2019 Connie won the IPPY Gold Medal for Mystery and was a finalist for the Agatha Award’s Best Debut. She’s a member of Mystery Writers of America and is on the board of the Guppies and her local Sisters in Crime chapter. Besides reading and writing mysteries, Connie loves history, foreign travel, cute animals, and all things British. She lives in Ohio with her husband and adorable Shih Tzu, Emmie.
Category: Interviews, On Writing
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