Sample Sunday: Chapter One Excerpt from "The Girl Who Wanted To Be Sherlock Holmes" by Bill Crider

You may remember the below piece running awhile back. I have this book in my TBR pile and still have not gotten to it. A sad state for many of the books in my TBR pile. While primarily known for his Sheriff Dan Rhodes series, Bill does a lot of different things under the writing big top. The excerpt below comes from his humorous young adult novel The Girl Who Wanted To Be Sherlock Holmes. A read that is also suitable for us adults.

Amazon Synopsis: “Shirley Holmes believes she's a descendant of another Holmes. Sherlock. You say he's a fictional character? Don't try to tell that to Shirley. When there's a murder at her high school, Shirley's determined to find the killer, along with Ralph, her willing "Watson." THE GIRL WHO WANTED TO BE SHERLOCK HOLMES is fast and fun for all ages.”

Available as an e-book, you can pick up your copy here.

                                                                      Chapter 1

            Before I tell you about finding the dead man, I have to tell you about a girl I know.

            Her name's Shirley Holmes, and her name is very important to her.  That's because about a hundred years ago, more or less, there was a famous detective named Sherlock Holmes.

            Shirley Holmes.  Sherlock Holmes.

            You see the connection?  Neither do I, since as I tried to explain to Shirley, Sherlock Holmes is a fictional character, not a real person.

            "He's just a person in stories," is the way I put it.  "He's not real."

            "And just how do you know that, Ralph-o?" she asked, looking down at me.  She's about the same height I am, which is five-seven, but somehow she seems taller.  I don't know how she does it.

            And that's just one of the annoying things about her. Another one is that she never fails to call me The Ralphster, or Ralph-o, or Ralphola, or The Ralphmeister.  It’s not very dignified if you ask me.

            Of course Ralph's my name; I can't deny that, as much as I wish that I could.  If I'd had any say-so in it, I'd have been called Clint, or maybe Thorne, like a guy on the soap opera that my father watches every day.  Maybe you've seen it.  The Bold and the Beautiful.  But of course I didn't have any say-so, and I got named Ralph.  It could be worse, I guess.  I could have been named Fauntleroy, maybe, or Alphonse.

            I can see that I've drifted off the point here, which is something that I'm prone to do, according to Ms. Turkel, my English teacher.  She's always writing crabby little notes in red ink in the margin of my papers, saying things like "This is really very interesting, Ralph, but what does it have to do with your thesis?" 

            She calls me Ralph, naturally.  All the teachers do.  The name's right there on my Permanent Record, so what can I do about it?

            But I was telling you about Shirley.  She has red hair and green eyes and freckles, and the truth is I like the way she looks a whole lot, but I'd never come out and tell her that.  We're both juniors at Harry Whittington High School, and we take a lot of the same classes.

            We've known each other a long time, ever since second grade, but I've only noticed how nice she looks in the last year or so.  I never paid much attention to things like that about girls very much before, but I've started noticing it pretty often since about the ninth grade.  It has a lot to do with hormones, according to Mr. Wilder.  He teaches biology, so he knows what he's talking about.

Bill Crider ©2010