Researching a new mystery is almost as enjoyable as writing it. My Sydney Lockhart series is set in the 1950s, with each book centered on a historic hotel. I begin by visiting these grand dames of hospitality, then branch out into the surrounding towns–exploring local businesses, landmarks, and hidden corners that might find their way into the story. After that comes the deep dive into archives, where I hunt for forgotten headlines, controversies, and historical events to weave into the plot. History isn’t just background in my mysteries–it’s part of the crime.

In Murder at the Faust, one of the standout locations is Gruene Hall, the oldest dance hall in Texas–and one of my favorite places anywhere in the state. Considering the size of Texas, that’s saying a lot.

I first stumbled across Gruene Hall as a college student at the University of Texas at Austin. A group of us drove to New Braunfels for Oktoberfest, where I picked up a brochure mentioning a nearby ghost town called Gruene. Two miles away? That was reason enough to investigate.

At the time, Gruene was little more than a scattering of historic buildings along the Guadalupe River–arguably the most beautiful river in Texas. There was a mercantile, an old hotel, and, at the center of it all, Gruene Hall. We spent the afternoon there, listening to country music on the jukebox and drinking beer straight from an iced-down bucket. The wooden floor, the music, the heat–it was impossible not to dance.

Built in 1878 by Henry D. Gruene, the hall has survived boom, bust, and near abandonment. By 1950, Gruene had become a ghost town and the hall closed its doors. It wasn’t until 1975 that Pat Molak and Mary Jane Nalley brought it back to life, reopening it as a music and dance venue. Since then, it has hosted legends like Willie Nelson, Merle Haggard, Loretta Lynn, Lyle Lovett, and Garth Brooks–and even helped launch George Strait’s career.

Today, Gruene is a thriving historic district listed on the National Register of Historic Places, but the hall hasn’t lost its rough-edged charm. It’s still not air-conditioned. The beer is still cold. And the music still makes it hard to sit down.

Gruene Hall found its way naturally into Murder at the Faust, where Sydney and Dixon’s investigation leads them straight onto that well-worn dance floor.

Enjoy this excerpt where Sydney teaches Dixon the Texas Two-Step.

“Look at this,” Dixon said. “Every person living in Gruene and half the folks from New Braunfels must be here tonight.” The two roads winding through Gruene Crossing were lined with cars, and a crowd had gathered outside the hall. The side door swung open, and honky-tonk music spilled out. Dixon squeezed the car between a rusty old pickup and a Nash Rambler parked behind the mercantile. We entered the dance hall to find every table taken, with folks standing along the perimeter. The people on the dance floor resembled a bucket of squirming eels, all vying for air and space.

“I have a serious question to ask you,” I shouted.

“Can it wait until I get us a bottle of beer?”

“Go,” I said.

I watched Dixon elbow his way to the bar. Beer bottles were handed out, cash was exchanged, and more bodies shoved their way in line. I lost sight of Dixon for a few minutes in the melee. Then I saw him duck under the arm of a hefty woman who looked as if she’d just rolled in on a Harley and was ready for action. The guy next to her wore a fringed western shirt with snaps and a dirty black ten-gallon hat. He grabbed the Harley woman and planted a sloppy one on her lips. She slugged him in the gut, and they laughed their way to the dance floor.

“You were saying,” Dixon shouted in my ear and handed me a cold Lone Star. “The serious question?”

“Can you two-step?”

“No, but I think I’m about to learn. Let’s go.”

“Just follow my lead.”

“You’re leading?”

“Until you get the hang of it. Think: quick, quick, slow, slow; quick, quick, slow, slow.”

Twice around the dance floor, my Arkansas man shuffled and smiled as if he’d been dancing the two-step his whole life. When the music stopped, we found ourselves at the foot of the stage. Gale caught our eyes and smiled, nodding at Saralyn, who stood in front of the mic. “The next number, ‘Waltz Across Texas,” is for our two new friends.”

“Oops,” Dixon said.

“The waltz is easy. One two, three; one, two, three, Got it?”

I’ve been back many times since that first visit in the 1970s.  (I’m in the red boots in this photo.) On one particularly hot summer night, my sisters and I even took swing dance lessons there. The giant box fans did their best against the Texas heat, but in the end, it was the dancing–and the laughter–that carried the evening.

For a writer, places like Gruene Hall are a gift. They come with their own history, their own atmosphere, and just enough mystery to make you wonder what might have happened there…and what still could.

For more information on this icon dance hall, check out the YouTube video:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MJFEigen8Dc

Murder at the Faust

Welcome to the historic Faust Hotel, where the year is 1953, the carpet is plush, and the crime scenes are unfortunately plentiful. A bloody hotel room, a body on the bank of the Guadalupe River, and a suspiciously well-informed police chief land Sydney in the interrogation hot seat. With Dixon still recovering from a gunshot wound, help arrives–whether Sydney wants it or not–in the form of plucky Lydia LaBeau and the irrepressible Cousin Ruth Echland. Lydia promptly delves into birdwatching escapades with a mysterious new friend, while Ruth, disguised as a Miss Texas contestant, seems more focused on evening gowns than evidence. Then another dead body turns up in Sydney’s apartment. Lydia disappears. And the case takes a turn for the bizarre with the arrival of a mermaid and a Bible-thumping zealot–just the sort of chaos Sydney has come to expect. In a whirlwind of duplicity, deception, and pageant drama, one question looms: Will the real Sydney Lockhart please stand up?

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