In the ancient Greek theatre, when a character went off the stage to the left (sinistra) the audience knew he was going someplace dangerous, like prison or the wilderness. If he went off to the right (dextra) that was okay; he was headed back home to the palace or to a quiet night on Mount Olympus with his feet up. 

            Of course it got complicated in the middle ages when morality plays were often acted in churches. “Aren’t we playing to God?” some officious busybody would grump, pointing upstage to the altar behind the actors where said God presumably was in residence. “Fine,” a long-suffering stage manager would sigh, desperate to keep the peace. “Henry? Move the props.” 

            And so, old Henry would have to drag Heaven’s Gate to stage left, and Hellmouth to stage right. The audience may have been illiterate, but they knew all about heaven and hell, and until they got used to it, they were probably a bit confused over the fiery pit being on their right side. ‘Sinister’, after all, is just a way of looking at things.

            But when you’re writing a ghost story you’d better know your right from your left. In the Requiem mysteries I weaponized the seasons to make sure the prevailing mood was sinister—way out there to stage left, Henry or no Henry.

            Requiem for Thursday takes place in a particularly bitter winter, with the frigid night looming over a poor fellow simultaneously drowning and freezing to death.

            Requiem for Noah takes place in a Canadian Spring which means there are plenty of winter-blasted branches, the cover isn’t off the swimming pool, and the clouds are low and threatening.

            Requiem for Mary Mac takes place in Autumn which can be lovely in the Halton Region—but I wasn’t having any of that. The tourist trains are closing down for the winter, and the forest feels close and dark as Eilert steps down before the old haunted school house.

            I wanted the fourth book to take place at the height of summer, but don’t expect a tan. The storm cells are moving in, there’s a moldy golden gloom, and Prem and Eilert are stuck in a traffic jam with noisy air-conditioning, trying to solve a serial murder case on the phone.