Name of Detective
Patricia Anne Hollowell
My sister, Mary Alice Crane (She'd die if she thought I was calling her my sidekick. Or, more likely, kill me).
I'm sixty-one and Mary Alice is five years older but is sixty-four. Go figure. The way I have it figured, year after next, she'll be younger than I am.
Retired English teacher.
How did you get involved in sleuthing?
Well, Sister bought a country-western bar because she loves to line dance. Did I mention that she has more money than she has sense? Anyway, the original owner was murdered right in the wishing well of the bar and one of my favorite former students was accused of the murder. I knew he was innocent. He wrote the best essays I ever graded.
My sister not knocking on doors before she comes in and telling everyone I aim for mailboxes when I drive.
Either Mother Teresa or Scarlett O'Hara. I can't decide.
Hey, I've only been retired a year. I'm thinking, though. White water rafting, maybe?
I'm the little one. I'm five-one and weigh 106. Mary Alice is six feet tall and weighs 250. Mama kept telling everyone we were born at home so they wouldn't think the hospital had made a mistake.
Married to Fred Hollowell for forty years. I love him.
From Mary Alice: "I tell you, Patricia Anne, I'm sick and tired ofalways being some man's sex slave."