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Lauren Carr is the author of over thirty acclaimed mystery novels, with more than half a million copies sold worldwide. Her fast-paced series—the Mac Faraday Mysteries, Chris Matheson Cold Case Mysteries, and more—blend twists, suspense, humor, and unforgettable characters (including clever German shepherds!).
It's Murder, My Son organically hit #1 in Mystery on Amazon, and her books consistently rank in the Top 20 Police Procedurals in the US and international markets.
A popular speaker and publishing consultant, Lauren lives on a mountain in Harpers Ferry, WV, with her husband and three spoiled rotten German shepherds.
Assigned topic: the review that launched Best in Murder.
Every so often a review lands in my inbox and I can hear the reader tapping the page.
After Shadow of Murder came out, one of those notes said, in so many words: lovely book, Lauren, but where was Gnarly? I wanted more of the dog.
Fair. Completely fair. Gnarly has been stealing scenes since It’s Murder, My Son. He has run for mayor. He has been accused of crimes he did and did not commit. He has an opinion about everyone who walks through Spencer Manor, and he is usually right. If a reader finishes a Mac Faraday mystery and feels shortchanged on German shepherd, I have not done my job.
So I asked the only question that mattered: how do you get more Gnarly without turning the book into a picture calendar with a murder stapled to the back?
A dog show.
Not a cute little park-day agility class. Best in Show. The Mid-Atlantic Classic Kennel Club Invitational, held at the Spencer Inn, which is already the most overqualified hotel in western Maryland. Champions worth small fortunes. Handlers who have not slept. Owners who talk about bloodlines the way other people talk about stock portfolios. A platinum-and-diamond collar that should never have left the safe. And one missing Irish Wolfhound whose value has nothing to do with his haircut.
Drop Gnarly into that, and you do not have to invent mischief. Mischief arrives on a leather lead and demands a grooming appointment.
I will confess something that will not surprise anyone who lives with shepherds: I did not have to stretch to write the four-legged chaos. I live on a mountain in Harpers Ferry with a pack that believes the house is a shared custody arrangement. They do not care that I have a deadline. They care that someone opened a bag of something interesting in the kitchen. Gnarly is fiction. The attitude is research.
What I did have to invent—and this is the fun part—was the collision. Mac Faraday still thinks like a homicide detective, even when he is standing next to a judge’s table and a standard poodle with a better stylist than I will ever have. David is trying to keep order in a county that has developed an unfortunate habit of collecting bodies. The Inn is full of people who smile for the cameras and lie in the hallway. And Gnarly, who has never once read a kennel-club rulebook, treats the whole event as his personal playground.
That is the premise of Best in Murder in one sentence: give the dog the room he asked for, then lock the doors.
I know some readers worry that a dog-show mystery will go soft. I write murder mysteries. Someone dies. More than one someone, if I am being honest, which I try to be except when I am plotting. The rhinestones do not cancel the crime scene. They just make it louder.
If you are new to Mac Faraday, you do not need fourteen books of homework. You need a retired detective, a resort town that cannot stay quiet, and a German shepherd who has never met a situation he could not make worse and then solve. If you have been with us since the beginning, you already know Gnarly does not share the spotlight. He rents it out and keeps the deposit.
The reader who asked for more Gnarly may regret the request when the Spencer Inn starts sounding like a kennel at feeding time. I do not. I took the note. I booked the show. And I let the dog off the lead.
Best in Murder is out October 13. Pack a lint roller.
