A blue moon is neither blue nor larger than a regular full moon. Traditionally, it is defined as the second full moon in a calendar month, a phenomenon that occurs roughly every two to three years. The most recent blue moon occurred on May 31. I was in a deep sleep, dreaming frantically about making it to the airport on time, when I suddenly jerked awake. There, peeking through the slats of my blinds, was a brilliant full moon. For a moment, it felt almost magical—as if it had awakened me for a reason.

In folklore and legend, the blue moon is shrouded in mysticism and often associated with feminine power, intuition, and spiritual growth. Some traditions view it as a symbol of wisdom gained through experience and a reminder to trust one’s inner voice.

The blue moon has also inspired music. The classic song Blue Moon, with lyrics by Lorenz Hart and music by Richard Rodgers, became a beloved standard recorded by many artists. Among the most memorable versions are those by Billie Holiday in 1952 and Frank Sinatra in 1962. Their recordings capture the dreamy, romantic quality that has long surrounded the moon’s mysterious allure.

Whether viewed through the lens of science, folklore, or music, the blue moon continues to spark our imagination and remind us that some of life’s most memorable moments arrive unexpectedly—even in the middle of the night.

In my 4^th Sydney Lockhart mystery, Murder at the Driskill, a blue moon ushers in a new character, twelve-year-old Lydia LaBeau. My intention was for Lydia to kick off the first chapter, appear in a few minor scenes, and then fade away. If you’ve read any of my subsequent Sydney mysteries, you know that that didn’t happen. Little Lydia became a fixture in the series. She’s added a new dimension to Sydney, bringing out maternal instincts she didn’t know she had.

Enjoy this excerpt from Murder at the Driskill.

I jerked around to confront the Transylvania bloodsucker and came face-to-face with a girl dressed in organdy and lace, a blue sash wrapped around an empire waist and tied into a bow in back. This I could see in the reflection in the mirror behind her. On her feet were patent-leather Mary Janes in the brightest shade of lavender I’d ever seen. She held a Bible to her chest. When she spoke in a clear, calm voice, I knew it was beyond hope that the smell of brewing coffee would wake me from the nightmare. I blinked twice. She was still there. So I did the only sensible thing; I placed my gun back into its holster and asked her where she bought her shoes.

“I found them. Who are you?”

“I could ask you the same question. Did you see an old chubby guy running through here?”

 “No one’s been here all night except me.”

“Why aren’t you at home?”

“I am.”

“You live here?”

She raised her eyes upward. “On top. Our apartment. I come down here when my dad snores.”

“Do you always dress as if you’re going to your First Communion?”

“I’m considering a new persona. Dad doesn’t like me coming down here at night. But I find that time alone in the prop room, playing dress-up, sparks my creativity. Do you play dress-up too?”

The tone of her question was not that of an innocent child. It dripped with sarcasm, spoken by a well-seasoned cynic. I looked down at my grubby suit and red cowboy boots and sighed. “I do play dress-up, evidently. Listen, I’ve got to go, and you’d better get back upstairs before your father wakes up.”

“After he gets home from work, he hits the bed and doesn’t wake up until late. He runs the theater next door.”

“The Next to Nothing Theater?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Where’s the front door to this building?”

“This way.”

I followed her through the warehouse, going in one door and out another, up a half-flight of stairs, and down a long, narrow hallway, until she reached a door and pushed it open. Until then, I hadn’t realized that in chasing the guy, we’d doubled back. I was back out on Sixth Street and Sabine. The Blue Mist was across the street, two blocks away. Then I noticed the marquee for the theatre. I stepped back and scanned the structures. The warehouse and theatre, and apparently this girl’s apartment, were all part of one huge building. We went back inside and returned to the prop room.

“I’m sure the guy came in through that back door,” I said.

“He could have. To the left of the door, stairs lead to the roof. He could have gone up there and down the fire escape. Why were you after him?”

“Let’s just say it’s business. Show me the roof.”

“Sure. What’s your name?” she asked, leading me up the stairs.

“Sydney.”

“No, your real name. I know you’re not a man.”

“Thank you. Sydney with a y. And you are?”

“Florence, but you can call me Lydia, with a y, too.”

“Is that a phonograph you’re playing?”

“My favorite record. It’s a special night.”

I listened. Billie Holiday singing “Blue Moon.”

“Great song. Why is it so special to a young girl like you?”

“Not the song, the night,” she scoffed, pushing open the door. “Tonight is a Blue Moon. It only comes around about every twenty-two months. I was a mere child the last time it happened. I wouldn’t miss it this time for anything in the world.”

“I wish it would show itself. It’s damn dark out there.”

“It was out earlier, just for a moment, when the clouds parted. It was magical.”

“Sorry I missed it.” We stepped out onto the roof, and I found the fire escape, which led down into the alley. No point looking for the guy now. He could be halfway to San Antonio.

“I’ll let you get back to your fantasy world, Lydia. Do me a favor and lock up after I leave. There are some dangerous people hanging around this neighborhood at night.”

“Oh, I’m not worried. If the bums around here know you, they pretty much leave you alone.”

“Maybe you should walk me back to my office.”

“Hey, come by tomorrow, and I’ll get you a ticket to the show. It’s great entertainment.”

“I’ll do that. Gotta go.”

“Unless you’re known around here like me, I’d stay out of these alleys. Life is too wondrous and beautiful to squander in the cesspools of the devil.”

Enjoy Billie Holiday Signing “Blue Moon”

Look for my latest Sydney Lockhart mystery, Murder at the Faust. It’s available for pre-order now:

Amazon: https://shorturl.at/Nrm8J
Anamcara Press https://anamcara-press.com/product/murder-at-the-faust/