Florence's wit and charm masks her ruthless inner core; she is ambitious and determined, always relying on herself to get the job done (mostly due to her frequent impatience with others). Florence often fools herself with her own salesmanship; despite believing she is good, she is as immoral as any of the villains in her highly successful murder mystery series'.

BACKGROUND: Continually inspired by the murders of Bloody Bay, Florence has moved there so that she can write her best novel yet. However, Florence's problems are not limited to a lack of inspiration. As her divorce is taking longer in litigation than the marriage enjoyed connubial bliss, it is threatening to litigate her into the poorhouse. She needs to write a new book and fast.

0 What? An entire year? No murders in this town? At all? None? .Seriously. Then what the hell did I come all this way for? Bloody Bay is my—what ? Inspiration? Source? Laboratory? –Never you mind where I've been all this time. The question is, what has this community been doing to keep up the culling of the human race? To support the amazing PR efforts on my part to create an unique, a theme-driven tourist destination. Of course the only theme this rock-bound harbor could provide was, unfortunately, murder. Of other people. . . NO! Didn't I say that you don't need to know where I've been. Ha! Certainly not the Riviera. So many tourists! So crowded nobody goes there anymore. So let's get down to business. Don't tell me about cancer and heart attacks and sloppy auto maintenance. All actuarial data for the simple-minded bean counters at the insurance companies. No! I want to—I NEED to—know about the unaccounted-for allergy to a wild mushroom, the trip down the staircase when the carpet had been examined only the day before (and the insurance policy had been taken out on the same day), the kindly old mare that threw her rider and –oops!— a strange and foreign cactus was soon discovered under the poor beast's saddle. Those are the kind of horrors I expect to find in your lovely village. Those are the incidents that have made your fame and

PERSON: Washed up leading man. Lee tries to wear his heart on his sleeve and yet, is incapable of sharing his real thoughts and feelings with everyone. He tries to be charming, but his charms always fall flat and he comes across as needy and desperate.

BACKGROUND: Some years back, Lee met Florence when he was making a brief splash on the Hollywood scene. Lee worked on the first movie adaptation of Florence's books and they became friends (and briefly lovers) during the period of filming. Despite the difference in their ages (Florence is ten years older than he), Lee, seeing that Florence was earning a great deal more than he, swept her off her feet and married her for monetary gain. When his career goes south, Lee, being cunning as he is, realizes that in divorcing Florence, he can become even richer. As Florence has always raised him in public ("my darling Muse and best editor a writer could want to live with"); he is claiming 50% of her royalties.

0 AUDITION SIDE British accent is iffy.

Florence, dahling, I think it's time you knew,--well actually I guess you have already surmised. . . gathered, --that what used to be a flame between—amongst?—us two, has been somewhat reduced to an ember. It's not that I am not fond of you—will always be, dahling—but the May-December nature of our amour has , of late, shall I say—continuing with the metaphor, -- if I do say so myself, well, we are talking about ashes. Cold, dead ashes. Pity. When you think of how I was scarcely legal—twenty one, as I remember, and you, as a smart, successful novelist in her prime—which is what we said those days of any career woman under senescence—I never considered the ten-year difference in our ages as an obstacle. But now that—like every other leading man type who has seen better days,--now that I have to struggle to hold in the extra tire around the midsection, and I avoid mirrors in rooms not-so kindly lit, I have to consider my future. Which, taking into account our age differential, in the natural course of things may be longer than yours. Let us not forget that you are a good ten years older than I, Than me,-- no, than I AM. So in consideration of various truths that will be not put down here—such as some very dubious evidence created by a certain author to incriminate a suspect later convicted of a murder, not to mention a totally fabricated back story providing a fictional career path for a not-so-criminal spouse who is now serving a life sentence—well, there are some cards I hold. And I shall always be SO fond of you, as I cash the alimony checks you will be sending me for the rest of your life

PERSON: Dennis is an alcoholic unaware of his addiction. Despite being the life and soul of the party, he has far greater troubles internally. He is dry and sarcastic, although refuses to be the brunt of anyone else's joke. He doesn't like people becoming intimate with him in the fear that they will see past his external ostentation.

BACKGROUND: Dennis is an extremely successful dentist, although the mundanity of his career does not deter him from having a passionate love life. (There will be a great deal of humour brought out of this juxtaposition). Married to Barrie Spencer; the pair were renowned for their incredibly loud arguments. When Barrie is attacked, Dennis leads the fight to find her assailant, all the time dealing with the internal struggle that has come from the guilt of hitting her over the head with a hammer.

0 No. It's OK. I can do this without a drink. I took the pledge, as they say. About fifteen minutes ago. And I am doing FINE. No problems here.

No problems now that got rid of the worst problem of my life. You see, I am a Yankee. Yup. Protestant—actually atheist, but difficult to say that in this town. So OK—I am a Protestant, protesting secretly the expectation that I am supposed to live the way my parents did. Or do. Don't think me crazy, but sometimes I think I am still arguing with them. Dead, each of them, decades ago. But I argue with them only when I drink. Which I don't do now. Not for a good fifteen, maybe sixteen, minutes now.

So, what do we argue about? Well, you know, we Yankees are thrifty, never waste a penny. And I must admit, I never would have married my beautiful Barrie if my parents had still been alive at the time. Oho! I can just hear what they would have said. "From the looks of her, she buys all her clothes retail. Such a waste!" "Is that the hair color God gave her? And the nose? And the teeth?" Well, I could have used their advice actually. As I said to my Barrie so often, " I labor every day, all day, with rotting dental nerves, I need my space and my privacy when I get home. That's why I agreed to this McMansion only if I could have a man-cave—maybe more like a man-aerie—on my third floor. And then I come home and find that you have had contractors in here converting it into another closet for your STUFF? Well, thank goodness I am no longer drinking man—for the last fifteen—make that seventeen minutes, or else, I would take this hammer the carpenter left behind, and—I think a I need a drink.

Wife to Dennis Spencer, she too has an addiction. Her shopaholism is driving Dennis to the poorhouse and is the cause of many of their brawls. It was during one of these donnybrooks that Dennis attacked her, and then shed a lot of crocodile tears as he called 911, reporting an intrusion, and begged the EMTs to save her. Alas (for Dennis), they saved her life, but left Barrie in a coma, which she recovers from midway into the series. She has total amnesia, and not only cannot recognize Dennis, but furthermore remembers little but getting lost all these months in a Neiman Marcus Christmas catalogue

0 OMG! The secretarial pool DREAM! Not only married, but married to a guy with a degree, and not only a degree but a DOCTOR!! Well, not what most people call a doctor, but a tooth kind of doctor. Not a mere "dentist," but an endodontist!

You have no idea. Every single tooth in your head has these messy insides, you see, with nerves and things, and as we get older they get all rotten and squishy, so who do you go to when your face is achy and all swollen up? Not a "dentist"—no, someone who is licensed to get inside, look under the hood, you might say, drill, drill, drill and hit real pay dirt at the end of the day. Those patients literally do pay through their teeth. And Dennis brings home all that moolah, and just about pours it at my feet—do you like these Manalo Blahnick's? I couldn't decide between the red or the beige, so I bought both. Now the problem is where to store everything—the Manolo's, the Gucci's, the Harry Winston's, the fur coats, the high-fashion lingerie—so I just figured that he really didn't need that man cave of his—can you call it a cave if it's on the third floor?—anyway, I just called in the carpenters to redo his man cave into another walk-in closet. They're up there now, ripping out, adding in—bang, bang, bang all day long—it's exhausting, just to listen to. I think I'll give Chelsea a ring and see if she can fit me in for a facial. Maybe a mani-pedi while she's at it. I deserve some relaxation after the exhausting day I've put in with supervising the renovations. Dennis will be so surprised!

BACKGROUND: Clinton is the police chief of Bloody Bay; it is no wonder there are so many murders here! His adoration of his wife blinds him to the possibility that she could be unfaithful. And on the rare occasion when he does sniff out a good clue (e.g. Dennis' wife was spending him into the poorhouse), he can't let truth interfere with his innate faith in his fellow man. He wooed his Southern Belle of a wife under slightly false pretenses, of which she often reminds him. But he really was telling the truth, his truth, when he told her of the beauties of Bloody Bay. He doesn't mind being able to swim in the frigid ocean only a few days a year. He never like Southern cooking anyway, so New England style milk chowder is fine by him. And what a great job his dad (the police chief of the day) was saving for him Down Easter accent (https://youtu.be/gXUxLqqmhNs)

0 Ay-uh. Bloody Bay. It's my home from which I'll never roam. Sort of a poyem, y'know? "Home/Roam?" Not that my parents ever raised me to be a poet. But no sooner had I set my eyes on that beautiful Southern Belle—my Magnolia, no, I have to say it my beloved Magnolia – I saw her and for the first time I knew what true love was. There she was, wasting her time as society editor—more of a gossip columnist, if you ask me—for that cheap rebel weekly in Savannah—right down the road from the Army camp where I was stationed—No, I had no intention to be a soldier all my life, but my father, the police chief of my home town—did I say it was Bloody Bay I came from, well my father said a little military experience on my resume wouldn't hurt when it came to replacing him when the time came—nothing like the security of a family business, can't beat it. So here we are, me the police chief, Magnolia managing the Post Office, a calling she was put on this earth for. I can tell how happy she is from how quiet she's become. As for me—well, nothing difficult in this job. A few lost dogs, maybe a pickpocket now and then. But not like the old days, a murder everywhere you looked. If there is a murder here nowadays, I don't look, so I don't find it. So there are no murders, right?

0 PERE LAURENCE We are gathered here today to honor and pay tribute to the life of Barrie Spencer, and to express our love and admiration for her. Also to try to bring some comfort to those of her family and friends who are here and have been deeply hurt by her sudden death. Some of you will say suicide--moi, I say, if her loving husband , and even the police, they say she trip, she trip. Remember, I do not understand very good the English.

Barrie was a kind woman, she thrived in loving toute la monde-- A very much loved wife, sister and daughter . . . Sorry, Madame. Is everything va bien? Doucement , doucement, It is possible to keep it down, non?. . . . Merci. Thank you. Now, where was I? We're gathered here to honour Barrie Spencer, who spent her life appreciating all that the world has to offer. She was a fashion icon . . PERE LAURENCE FUMBLES BUT CARRIES ON

Can we have some quiet please? You're ruining my ceremony. I mean, the ceremony.