A visceral and compelling mystery about a Cherokee archeologist for the Bureau of Indian Affairs who is summoned to rural Oklahoma to investigate the disappearance of two women…one of them her sister.
There are secrets in the land.
As an archeologist for the Bureau of Indian Affairs, Syd Walker spends her days in Rhode Island trying to protect the land’s indigenous past, even as she’s escaping her own.
While Syd is dedicated to her job, she’s haunted by a night of violence she barely escaped in her Oklahoma hometown fifteen years ago. Though she swore she’d never go back, the past comes calling.
When a skull is found near the crime scene of her youth, just as her sister, Emma Lou, vanishes, Syd knows she must return home. She refuses to let her sister’s disappearance, or the remains, go ignored—as so often happens in cases of missing Native women.
But not everyone is glad to have Syd home, and she can feel the crosshairs on her back. Still, the deeper Syd digs, the more she uncovers about a string of missing indigenous women cases going back decades. To save her sister, she must expose a darkness in the town that no one wants to face—not even Syd.
The truth will be unearthed.
***
Elise’s Thoughts
Blood Sisters by Vanessa Lillie combines a riveting mystery within a thrilling plot. This is a story of the main character’s personal journey as she attempts to overcome her past demons and strives to balance her Native American identity with her current life.
Syd Walker, the protagonist, now lives in Rhode Island with her wife Mali, working for the Bureau of Indian Affairs (BIA). She moved there from Oklahoma because of her violent past. Fifteen years ago she barely escaped from being killed when two masked men came into the trailer she, her sister, and her best friend were staying. She was able to rescue her sister, Emma Lou, but her best friend, Luna Myers was murdered. She is guilt ridden and haunted literally by Luna’s ghost, who speaks to her ala Charles Todd whose ghost Hamish haunts Scotland Yard Inspector Ian Rutledge.
After Syd’s old BIA ID badge from a college internship is found inside a skull on BIA-managed land she is asked by her BIA supervisor, Jo Mankiller, to investigate. Reluctantly, she returns to her hometown and learns that her sister Emma Lou, an opiate addict, has vanished, one of many Indigenous women to have recently disappeared from the area. She begins to investigate the women’s disappearances, hoping her inquiry might finally bring her face-to-face with Luna’s killer.
The blending of the culture and history made the plot even more interesting. Readers take the journey with Syd as she tries to reconcile her past, come to terms with her demons, and attempting to rebuild a relationship with her family.
***
Author Interview
Elise Cooper: How did you get the idea for the story?
Vanessa Lillie: This is the first book in the series. The story is set in Northeast Oklahoma, which is where I am from. I wanted to write about my hometown and the surrounding towns. The town in the story, is based on the history of a real town where there was oil and minerals, lead, and zinc. It became a boom town overnight. I wanted to incorporate my real history within my fictional characters backstory. I also wanted to write about the meth production, the Mexican Cartels coming into NE Oklahoma, and the legislative changes which is all accurate for the time, in 2008. I wanted to show how the illegal drug of meth combined with the legal Opioid drugs caused a lot of devastation in so many communities.
EC: What about the Native American references?
VL: The Quapaw Tribe had land taken from them. I set the story in 2008 because it is now a ghost town, with a government buyout program. There are serious health issues because of all the left-over minerals. I grew up next to this community. I am Cherokee so I wanted to write about a Cherokee protagonist. Because the matriarchal connection among Native Americans is so strong, I wrote how Syd is connected to her late grandmother, her Cherokee heritage that they shared together.
EC: How would you describe the main protagonist Syd?
VL: She is a badass—with a lot of vulnerability. I wanted to show through this character how someone processes trauma. She cares about justice, what she believes is right. She is haunted and struggles to connect with people. She is not direct and a loner. She has a little bit chip on her shoulder.
EC: Syd coming home reminded me of those in the military who come home on leave and feel like a fish out of water?
VL: I am from a small town and left it to go to college when I was 18.I still felt a disconnect and insecurity when I returned, which is something I put onto Syd. It is hard for her to come in and think she has answers when Syd did not live there. She might have good intentions but does not know the reality of what is going on. She had created emotional boundaries and literal physical boundaries when she left her hometown and moved across the country.
EC: The story has the mystery of what happened to Syd’s sister?
VL: She will do anything to find, help, and save her. Even putting her life at risk. Syd had created boundaries in her life, but at the end of the day when her sister was at risk, she would do anything to save her sister.
EC: What was the role of Syd’s boss, Jo Mankiller?
VL: She represents the new generation of those in the Bureau of Indian Affairs (BIA). She feels she is there to support the tribes and the people. She has her own internal politics going. She agrees with Syd that BIA should help the tribes, particularly with the murdered and missing girls. The BIA is a management structure for tribal lands. Unfortunately, the Federal government in 2008 controls the law enforcement and they do not often care about girls going missing. Their attention is on the drug cases.
EC: What was the role of the ghost, Luna-did you get the idea from the movie “The Sixth Sense” where the boy saw “dead people?”
VL: I wrote a pilot through the Native American media. It was a screenplay. I was struggling to communicate Syd’s problem. My editor and I worked it into this story. Syd is literally haunted by this sarcastic ghost girl. Ghost Luna is a manifestation of trauma and pain that Syd carries. She appears during Syd’s stress. She is based on an old memory of a teenage friend when they were girls.
EC: Can you explain the quote about love?
VL: You are referring to this one, “Love isn’t protective. In fact, it’s what makes us vulnerable to pain.” Anytime someone loves, they risk pain. People open themselves up to others and risk disappointment and hurt. There are beautiful things that come with it. For Syd, she has the idea of love, pain, and hope.
EC: Next book?
VL: It will be set where I live now. Syd has another case tied to earlier colonial days. It will probably come out in 2025.
THANK YOU!!
***
BIO: Elise Cooper has written book reviews and interviewed best-selling authors since 2009. Her reviews have covered several different genres, including thrillers, mysteries, women’s fiction, romance and cozy mysteries. An avid reader, she engages authors to discuss their works, and to focus on the descriptions of their characters and the plot. While not writing reviews, Elise loves to watch baseball and visit the ocean in Southern California, with her dog and husband.
Today I am sharing my Feature Post and Book Review for THE LOST BOYS OF BARLOWE THEATER by Jaime Jo Wright on this Partners In Crime Virtual Book Tour.
Below you will find a book description, my book review, an excerpt from the book, the author’s bio and social media links, and a Kingsumo giveaway. Enjoy!
***
Book Description
It promises beauty but steals life instead. Will the ghosts of Barlowe Theater entomb them all?
Barlowe Theater stole the life of Greta Mercy’s eldest brother during its construction. Now in 1915, the completed theater appears every bit as deadly. When Greta’s younger brother goes missing after breaking into the building, Greta engages the assistance of a local police officer to help her unveil the already ghostly secrets of the theater. But when help comes from an unlikely source, Greta decides that to save her family she must uncover the evil that haunts the theater and put its threat to rest.
Decades later, Kit Boyd’s best friend vanishes during a ghost walk at the Barlowe Theater, and old stories of mysterious disappearances and ghoulish happenings are revived. Then television ghost-hunting host and skeptic Evan Fisher joins Kit in the quest to identify the truth behind the theater’s history. Kit reluctantly agrees to work with him in hopes of finding her missing friend. As the theater’s curse unravels Kit’s life, she is determined to put an end to the evil that has marked the theater and their hometown for the last century.
Genre: Romantic Suspense, Christian, Historical Published by: Bethany House Publishers Publication Date: October 2023 Number of Pages: 384 ISBN: 9780764241444
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My Book Review
RATING: 4 out of 5 Stars
THE LOST BOYS OF BARLOWE THEATER by Jaime Jo Wright is a wonderfully atmospheric Christian romantic suspense/mystery story for the Halloween season. This story is told in dual timelines by two female heroines trying to find loved ones lost in the eerie Barlowe Theater in Kipper’s Grove, Wisconsin.
The female heroine in 1915 is Greta Mercy. After the death of her parents and her eldest brother, she is trying desperately to keep her younger brothers with her. Her brother, Leo disappears with two other boys in the Barlowe theater. Her storyline was very believable and felt appropriate to the period. The female heroine in the present is Kit Boyd. Her best friend disappears in the Barlowe as they are filming with a crew from a TV show about psychics and skeptics. While I understand some adoptees have abandonment issues that make it difficult to trust and form attachments, Kit brought up her issue with this continually and I lost my sympathy with her because it just became annoying. Both women meet men that assist them with their investigations and become their HEAs. There is no sex and I felt little build up or chemistry to their relationships.
I really loved the intricate plots in the dual timelines that constantly had me guessing if this story was going to delve into the paranormal, spiritual, or just pedestrian criminal human realms. My angst level was high while I was reading this book, and I could not stop until the solution of both timelines. The discussions of faith, spirits and demons, and skepticism were interwoven in the timelines and illustrated the differing beliefs in the differing time periods. Both stories are based around missing loved ones and even though they were different, they blended perfectly.
I recommend this Christian romantic suspense/mystery for a haunting good read.
***
Excerpt
1
Greta Mercy
October 1915 Kipper’s Grove, Wisconsin
Sometimes death came quietly. A phantom swooping in and siphoning the last remnant of a soul from one’s body, leaving behind a shell of a person who once was and would never be again. Other times, death decided that dramatics coupled with terror were its preferred method of delivery. Tonight, that was the chosen form death took.
Screams echoed throughout the theater’s golden, embellished auditorium and drifted upward to the domed, hand-painted ceiling, where Putti flew as angelic, childlike spirits over the mass of onlookers.
A shoulder rammed into Greta’s arm as a husky man, far too large for the narrow seats, pushed his way past her toward the center aisle.
“Let me pass!” he barked. Urgency spurred him forward. “I’m a doctor, let me pass!”
The vaudeville lights on either side of the stage boasted letters a through g, with the g lit and distinct over the other letters.
“I’m letter g!” The doctor shouted while those in front of him jostled to the side or hurried ahead to move out of his way. Doctors were assigned specific letters from the vaudeville lights, and if they were lit, a doctor was needed—either at home, on call, or in the vicinity.
The vicinity was here. It was now.
Onlookers continued to gasp and protest. Women in beautiful silks and satins hurried to the back to find respite in the upstairs ladies’ room. Men in evening wear catapulted over seats and to the floor on the far left of the auditorium.
Greta was frozen in place, her seat having flipped up against its back so she could move. But her eyes were fixed with horror on the scene unfolding. They lifted to one of the box seats above the floor, where men, including the doctor, were congregating en masse. The gilded box was a flurry of activity. A man embraced a woman, who fought and clawed at his hold. Her screams had many onlookers staring at her, including the performer in her violet gown and befeathered hair. Moments before, her vocals had swirled around them all in a cadence of beauty and refined music. Now, her mouth was open, her face pale, her entire pose aghast. She had captured an enthralled audience, all whose gazes toward the stage had kept them from seeing what Greta had seen. Greta, who shouldn’t have been here to begin with. She didn’t belong with the pomp and circumstance, the heady scent of perfume and cologne, which made her mind thick and her eyes wander. They’d wandered to the box seat, and she’d witnessed what no one else had. The white hands stretching, reaching over the side, dangling . . .
“It was a child!” The horrified cry slipped for the third time from Greta’s lips. She could hear herself screaming and was unable to stop. Her screams had ripped through the performance as the child in a white nightdress plummeted into the shadows of the floor’s obscure corner.
The woman in the box seat had been pulled from view, its red velvet curtain shut swiftly.
“It was a baby!” Greta rasped out as horror strangled her.
“Greta. It’s all right.” The reassuring voice of her friend, Eleanor Boyd, as well as the comforting grip on Greta’s arm finally stilled her.
Greta focused again on her friend—her wealthy friend who should not be her friend at all.
Eleanor’s blue eyes were round with fear that must mirror Greta’s own. Her blond curls swept upward and were twisted with pearls. Her dress was a baby-blue silk. Any other moment, Greta would have soaked in the awe that tonight she, Greta Boyd, who could barely keep her family fed and clothed, was sitting among the elite, pretending to be one of them. But now? It hardly mattered. The borrowed corset that tucked in her waistline, the aged but wearable pink dress she had borrowed from Eleanor, and even the gloves she wore on her dry, cracked hands—none of them mattered now.
“What happened? What did you see?” Eleanor clutched at Greta’s arm.
Greta couldn’t reply. The sheer magnitude of the moment, the honor of being in the audience of the Barlowe Theater had been overwhelming . . . until she’d seen it. The baby launched over the side of the box seat. Like a cherub from the mural above, it had taken flight before it disappeared.
Greta’s knees gave out, and she fell to where her seat should have been had it not folded in on itself. Her hip struck the polished wood arm.
“Greta!” Eleanor reached for her.
Greta felt Eleanor’s brother on her other side, grabbing for her waist to give her support. But it was too late. She had collapsed to the narrow walkway between the seats. Her knees hit the carpeted floor.
Was she the only person who had seen death’s swift visitation tonight? The only one who had witnessed its evil intent as it ripped the babe forcefully from its mother’s arms?
It wouldn’t survive. It could not. The fall was too far, too great.
Death had decided to match the theater’s reputation for drama and awe. Greta couldn’t tear her gaze from where she’d seen the small form disappear on its way to its resting place on the floor of the Barlowe Theater.
The babe had slipped. No, it had been tossed. Its mother’s screams still echoed from the hallway beyond the curtain. Those in the crowd cried “Accident,” “Traumatic mishap,” and other such things. But Greta knew differently. She had known before she came tonight, and she should have stayed away.
Barlowe Theater was not a place that brought joy and entertainment, as was its supposed purpose. No, it had already taken lives in the construction of it, tortured the ones who dared stand in its way, and now it was hunting those innocents who had happened into the shadows of its deadly interior. The theater was cursed.
Kit Boyd
October, Present Day Kipper’s Grove, Wisconsin
Death stuck with a place. Once the blood had seeped into the carpet, the flooring, the walls, it stayed there, long after the stains were removed. They were the testament to lives robbed of their rightful journey through time. Cut short. Obliterated. Bludgeoned into nonexistence. Smothered by the grave, burrowed into by the worms—
“Hey!”
Fingers snapped in front of Kit Boyd’s face, and she startled out of her staring into the dark, narrow stairwell that led beneath the stage of the Barlowe Theater.
“Get with it, bruh.” The fingers snapped again. Kit looked up at the taller man beside her. He was overweight and smelled like pizza, but he had a nice face. His name was Tom, they’d told her, the crew from the TV show Psychic and the Skeptic.
“Sorry.” Kit offered him a wince. She’d paused on the first concrete step while her best friend, Madison, the psychic medium, Heather Grant, and the skeptic investigator, Evan Fischer, disappeared into the bowels of the theater. Tom the cameraman was held back by her hesitation. She gave him a warning look, though the theater’s darkness in the midnight atmosphere probably hid most of her expression. “You do know people died here . . . have disappeared here.”
“That’s the point.” Tom waved her forward, the camera on his shoulder blinking a red light. “But I need to catch them on film if I can, and you’re in my way.”
Fabulous. She was on camera. That would probably make the show too. Kit Boyd, the quirky sidekick to Madison Farrington, the historical activist, the beauty, the granddaughter of the town’s ambitious CEO of all things expansion, modern, and money-making.
“Hello?” There was definite irritation in Tom’s voice.
“I’m going! I’m going.” Kit hurried down the steps. She’d taken them many times before. Anyone who was native to Kipper’s Grove, Wisconsin, had grown up in the Barlowe Theater at one point or another. Dancers had tapped and glided across its stage in recitals, high school glee clubs with dreams of Broadway had warbled off-key through its hall, and the local theater guild had put on such plays as Arsenic and Old Lace and The Music Man. Kit hadn’t been in any of those. Instead, she was the one backstage handing bottles of water to the performers, smiling and cracking jokes to encourage the stage-frozen little six-year-old dressed in a yellow tutu with glitter on her cheeks.
“Oh, c’mon!” Tom hissed, his irritation past the point of being hidden. How he’d gotten behind her anyway was a faux pas for filming. He was supposed to stick close to the stars of the show, Heather and Evan. And boy, did those two get along famously—not.
“Whew!” Kit wheezed under her breath, not caring if Tom heard. “I’d try to avoid those two if you could.”
“Yeah, well, I have a job to do.” Tom squeezed past Kit as she hugged the cement-block wall at the bottom of the stairs to let him through. He elbowed her arm and didn’t bother to apologize. He probably felt as if she owed him that luxury. The luxury of being annoyed.
Okay, fine. She did.
If she was being honest, Kit wasn’t a fan of the Barlowe Theater past dark. Which was the cliché of all theaters built just after the turn of the century. It was dark. Haunted. The place was like a tomb. Crank up some vaudeville music and the place became a literal haunted house of horrors for Halloween. And Kit hated Halloween. The darkness, the Gothic look and feel, Halloween was for morbid people who thought Edgar Allan Poe was romantic in his mystery and lore instead of macabre and bleak. Hadn’t he died questionably? She’d heard a podcast once that claimed the poet might have been murdered, contrary to the popular belief that his death had been the result of some fatal malady undiagnosed.
Kit shook her head to clear her thoughts. Mom said cobwebs couldn’t possibly gather in her head because she had too many ideas. Mom was right. Kit would never be accused of having an underactive imagination.
A finger jabbed into the back of her shoulder.
“Stop it!” Kit spun to glare at the offender.
No one was there.
Her skin began crawling. “Gahhhhhh!” She waved her hands wildly at the unseen ghost finger. Probably her imagination, but whatever. She had let Madison sucker her into a ghost hunt for the popular ghost-hunting television show. This was her penance? Getting poked by an elusive spirit?
“Sorry, God.” Kit mumbled an apology to the Almighty, who was probably rolling His eyes at their attempts to mess with the spirit world. But this was Madison. She believed anything was possible. Kit had been raised to believe that this type of anything was probably demonic. There had to be a middle ground. Hadn’t there?
Kit hurried around the corner, stubbing her toe on a bolt that rose half an inch up from the floor. Dampness and time had warped the theater’s floor, making it uneven. She leaned against the wall, rubbing her bare toe. Flip-flops on a ghost hunt. Bad idea.
She looked around—well, as best as she could. The basement was dark, as were the dressing rooms to her right, sized like prison cells. The short hall to her left leading directly below the stage was also dark.
“Hello, darkness,” Kit crooned quietly, craning her neck to peer ahead. “Hello?” she tried again, this time louder.
No answer.
“Seriously, someone?” Kit was beginning to share Tom the cameraman’s annoyance now. Two argumentative television stars, her best friend, and a cameraman didn’t just vanish within minutes. The basement wasn’t that huge.
But it was Barlowe Theater.
“Tom?” Kit hissed, daring a few steps into the dank blackness. “Madison?”
Again, no one answered. The only light was a flickering bulb that had to be a wattage short of worth having at all. It buzzed too. Of course it did. If this stunt was for show dramatics . . .
“Madison!” Kit shouted. In the ten years since they’d graduated high school, she had followed this woman around. She was owed some loyalty in return. “If this is for ratings, it’s unkind of you!” Kit yelled. Her words echoed back at her.
“Madis—”
Light slammed into her face, blinding Kit. She raised her hands as the flashlight’s beam collided with her eyes.
“They’re gone!” It was Tom.
Kit could see the whites of his eyes just beyond the flashlight he swung around wildly.
“What do you mean?” Kit tried to take captive Tom’s arm as he flooded the hallway with the light, then a dressing room, then the ceiling. His camera wasn’t on his shoulder.
He wasn’t filming.
Kit’s throat tightened. Okay, that wasn’t a good sign. “Where’s Madison?”
Tom swung the light back in Kit’s face. “Where’s Evan? Where’s Heather? Where’s my team?” His voice shook with undisguised concern, turning fast into panic. “How big is this place?”
“Not that big.” Kit pushed past him. Concerned now. This had gone too far. Madison and her harebrained schemes to keep her own grandfather from ruining the historic downtown. Make it famous, she said. Put it on TV, she said. Make viewers defend Kipper’s Grove, she said. “Madison!” Kit shouted, anxiousness seeping into her voice. “Stop this! It’s not funny!”
Tom’s light bounced on the floor in front of them as Kit spun around and marched back toward him. She shoved past his husky chest and down the short passage to the door leading under the stage. Her fingers curled around the doorknob, its old mechanics making it wobbly beneath her grip.
Kit jerked it open.
She fell back with a shriek, colliding with Tom, who had come way too close behind her.
Heather, the medium from the show, stood stock-still facing them. Her eyes were wide and unfocused, her skin white in the flashlight’s glow.
“She’s gone.” Heather’s monotone voice filtered through the passage.
Kit words were stolen from her as her stomach dropped.
“Who’s gone?” Tom demanded.
“Madison.” Evan Fischer, the cohost, the skeptic, and the all-around grumpy hero of the show strode past his partner. Heather’s expression didn’t waver as her eyes remained fixated on . . . whatever she was staring at in the spirit world beyond. “Madison’s gone.”
Evan left less than a few inches between his face and Kit’s as he bent his six-foot frame down to meet her five-foot-four one. “Where is she?”
“I don’t kn—”
“Where. Is. She?” He cut off Kit’s answer as unsatisfactory.
Her breaths came shorter, faster. She could feel Tom behind her. She was sandwiched between him and Evan, with Heather staring into the great abyss.
“I told you. I don’t know.” Kit heard the quaver in her voice. She shoved her trembling hands into her pockets.
“She’s gone.” Evan slapped the wall, glaring at Tom, who was speechless. “Is this a scam? A stunt?”
Kit couldn’t answer. Of course, the show would think it was a ploy by Madison. A publicity ploy. But it went deeper than that. Far deeper. Kit sagged against the wall, the air not reaching her lungs as it should.
She prayed then. Prayed that Madison really was messing with them. That she had simply gone too far ahead beneath the stage and left them behind.
But the theater was hungry, and everyone in Kipper’s Grove knew it was only a matter of time before this hunger added to the stories of death and spirits. That’s how the theater was, after all. Drama. Suspense. And the unearthly way that such things drifted through its rafters.
***
Author Bio
Jaime Jo Wright is the author of nine novels, including Christy Award and Daphne du Maurier Award winner The House on Foster Hill and Carol Award winner The Reckoning at Gossamer Pond. She’s also the Publishers Weekly and ECPA bestselling author of two novellas. Jaime lives in Wisconsin with her cat named Foo; her husband, Cap’n Hook; and their two mini-adults, Peter Pan and CoCo.
Today I am sharing my Feature Post and Mini Book Review for DEATH AND THESISTERS (Mary Shelley Mystery Book #1) by Heather Redmond on this Partners In Crime Virtual Book Tour.
Below you will find a book description, my book review, an excerpt from the book, the author’s bio and social media links, and a Kingsumo giveaway. Enjoy!
***
Book Description
The tangled relationships between Frankenstein author Mary Shelley, poet Percy Bysshe Shelley, and Mary’s stepsister Jane Clairmont form the backdrop for an intriguing historical mystery, set in London in 1814, that explores the complex dynamic between sisters and the birth of teenaged Mary’s creative genius.
London, 1814: Mary Godwin and her stepsister Jane Clairmont, both sixteen, possess quick minds bolstered by an unconventional upbringing, and have little regard for the rules that other young ladies follow. Mary, whose mother famously advocated for women’s rights, rejects the two paths that seem open to her—that of an assistant in her father’s bookshop, or an ordinary wife. Though quieter and more reserved than the boisterous Jane, Mary’s imagination is keen, and she longs for real-world adventures.
One evening, an opportunity arrives in the form of a dinner guest, Percy Bysshe Shelley. At twenty-one, Shelley is already a renowned poet and radical. Mary finds their visitor handsome and compelling, but it is later that evening, after the party has broken up, that events take a truly intriguing turn. When Mary comes downstairs in search of a book, she finds instead a man face down on the floor—with a knife in his back.
The dead man, it seems, was a former classmate of Shelley’s, and had lately become a personal and professional rival. What was he doing in the Godwins’ home? Mary, Jane, and Shelley are all drawn to learn the truth behind the tragedy, especially as each discovery seems to hint at a tangled web that includes many in Shelley’s closest circle. But as the attraction between Mary and the married poet intensifies, it sparks a rivalry between the sisters, even as it kindles the creative fire within . . .
Genre: Historical mystery Published by: Kensington Publication Date: September 2023 Number of Pages: 320 ISBN: 9781496737991 (ISBN10: 1496737997) Series: Mary Shelley Mystery, 1
***
My Book Review
RATING: 4 out of 5 Stars
DEATH AND THE SISTERS (Mary Shelley Mystery Book #1) by Heather Redmond is an engaging historical mystery and the first in a new series featuring the unconventional Mary Godwin (future Mrs. Shelley and author of “Frankenstein”), her stepsister, Jane Clairmont, and Percy Shelley who was a benefactor to Mary and Jane’s father all come together as amateur sleuths in 1814 London.
Mary discovers a young man stabbed to death on the floor of her father’s bookshop in the night when she goes down to retrieve a book to read. At first it was believed to be the famous poet Percy Shelley, but it was a contemporary competitor of Shelley’s. Mary is determined to solve the crime and with Jane and Shelley, they begin to unravel the clues that lead to Shelley’s closest circle of friends. As the investigation heats up, so does the attraction between Mary and Shelley, but it also sparks an even deeper rivalry between the sisters.
I loved that this book featured working and artistic people and was not centered around the ton. The author’s descriptive writing is atmospheric and made me feel as though I was there in 1814 London, but the dialogue a few times slipped into modern verbiage which pulled me out of the story. I liked getting each of the sister’s points of view with the alternating chapter narration because both were strong and intelligent characters. The competition between them was believable, but at times their immaturity was annoying and yes, I realize they were in their teens, but at that time in history, I would expect them to be more mature. The plot was intriguing and well-paced with plenty of red herrings, but I did not like the late revelation of information from some until close to the end.
Overall, an entertaining introduction to these characters and a beguiling mystery solved. I will be looking forward to the evolution of these characters in future books in this new series.
***
Excerpt
“Come, Mary.” Jane flopped onto her bed. “Tell us a story about the prisoner ghosts wailing.”
“I’ll have to think it up,” Mary said and then began to quote. “‘This relation is Matter of Fact, and attended with such Circumstances as may induce any Reasonable Man to believe it.’”
“What’s that?” Jane asked. The floor creaked as she kicked off her slippers and knocked them to the floor.
“Defoe, I think,” Mary said, already considering the form of her story. If only Mother had written such fanciful tales, to give her ideas on how to construct them. “I’ll consult his works in the bookshop for further inspiration. It seems like quite a good start to a ghost story.”
Mary placed her slippers next to Jane’s and walked down in her stocking feet, hugging the wall so as not to set off the worst of the creaking stairs. If Mamma heard her, she’d be set to mending something. Her stepmother never thought about the cost of candles when she could make her daughters work themselves into exhaustion after dark.
The bookshop’s interior door hung open. Very odd, as Mamma was particular about making sure that the smells of domestic life, particularly cooking odors, did not damage the books.
Mary shrugged, glad she had come downstairs, because if Mamma had been the first to notice, she’d have no doubt blamed Mary. She lit the lantern kept in readiness for customers who wanted to browse in the dark corners.
While she knew exactly where Defoe was kept, she first went to a back corner of the shop and dropped to her knees, then pulled out a much-loved volume that Mamma kept in stock because she knew that it sold, even though it was anything but highbrow or philosophical. Ann Radcliffe’s The Romance of the Forest. Feeling a little breathless, like a Gothic heroine about to swoon, she opened the book to her favorite page. With the lantern held over the engraving, she examined the bare legs of the man removing a blindfolded girl from a house.
She bit her lip as she looked over the engraved musculature, feeling a familiar shiver dance up through her body. Did Shelley have legs so magnificent? He certainly possessed the broad shoulders and narrow waist of the figure on the page. She set down the lantern when it shook in her hand.
“Oh, to see a form like that,” she whispered to herself. None of her Scottish suitors had possessed a body she wanted to caress. As such, none of them had enticed so much as a kiss from her. After a last heated glance, she closed the book and tucked it away again.
The next shelves were in front of the bow windows. The Juvenile Library was shelved there, at the perfect height for children. Works of historical merit were on the other side. Mary rose.
Her foot twisted as she took the first step. She grabbed for the edge of the bookcase with one hand, the other gripping the lantern tightly. Her fingers were trembling by the time she righted herself. She reached down and swiped at her foot. Something sticky coated her fingers. What was on the floor?
“Honestly,” she muttered to herself. More cleaning. She set the lantern on the bookcase and walked past the windows. Slatted lines from the shutters were illuminated by the oil lamp that burned all night at the corner of the road.
Distracted by the sudden reflected light, she tripped again. “Blast,” she cried.
When she tried to take another step forward, her way was blocked by something solid. Confused, she prodded it with her foot. It felt warm, dry, and slightly yielding. She backed up to take the lantern in her hand again, then cupped the side of it with her hand to keep the illumination from the road. When she reached the mass again, she held the lantern out over the floor.
Her mouth dropped open when she saw what lay in front of her. A man, like something out of a painting of the French Revolution, was sprawled on the floor. Facedown. She swept the lantern over his body. Her hand shook as she saw first one knife, then another.
The first was impaled in his back. The other, in the mysterious recesses between his legs.
“Faith!” Wobbly, Mary blinked hard, then forced herself to kneel down beside the sprawled figure, to touch the man’s hand.
Still warm. She squeezed it, feeling that strange sensation of callused male flesh under hers, then dropped the hand. What was she doing? Molesting a corpse?
She scooted back, her eyes closed, then opened them again, feeling her lips tremble at the sight of the dark blue velvet coat, the dark stain around the knife gleaming wetly in the light. She knew that coat. Shelley! That fine figure of a man, ended so cruelly. They had just seen him leave not twenty minutes earlier. Had he been accosted in the street and dumped here?
“I could have loved such a being.” Tears sprang to her eyes, and she let them fall, keenly feeling her sensibility. Hadn’t he said he was a new father? And his poor young wife, not even twenty yet, a widow.
“Mary?”
Drat that Jane. Could she not offer up a moment’s solitude to anyone?
Her stepsister’s footsteps came closer, along with the bobbing of a candle flame.
“Don’t come any closer,” Mary warned. She set the lantern down.
Ignoring her, Jane came down the space between the bookshelves and turned in the nook in front of the windows.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
Mary scrambled to her feet, hoping to block her sister’s view. The candle wavered as Jane took in the scene. She gasped loudly.
“What,” Jane asked, “is that?”
“Knives,” Mary said. “Murder has been done here.”
“What?” Jane repeated, some frantic power coming into her voice. “Papa?”
“No,” Mary said, grabbing the candleholder before the candle dropped. “Shelley.”
She saw what was going to happen and held up her other hand, hoping to forestall it. But she failed, and Jane, coming closer, screamed. Mary bent under the onslaught and grabbed her sister’s hand.
“Hush,” she begged, pulling her away. “We have to tell Papa before the watch comes.”
Though Jane resisted, Mary pulled her through the bookshop, then forced her to sit on the steps and hold the candle while she went back for the lantern. She set it on the table in the hall.
“Stay here,” she commanded.
“But,” Jane whispered. “But the body.”
“Papa will know what to do.”
“But the watch.”
“Papa should call them, not us. Do you want him surprised?”
“The bookshop,” Jane said next.
“Yes, it’s very bad,” Mary agreed.
“It isn’t S-Shelley,” Jane stuttered. “He just left.”
Mary pulled the handkerchief from her sleeve and tucked it into Jane’s unresisting hand. “It must be,” she said. “Who else? Cry quietly, please.” Hoping her sister obeyed, she picked up her skirts and ran up the steps to her father’s library.
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Author Bio
Heather Redmond is an author of commercial fiction and also writes as Heather Hiestand. First published in mystery, she took a long detour through romance before returning. Though her last British ancestor departed London in the 1920s, she is a committed anglophile, Dickens devotee, and lover of all things nineteenth century.
She has lived in Illinois, California, and Texas, and now resides in a small town in Washington State with her husband and son. The author of many novels, novellas, and short stories, she has achieved best-seller status at Amazon, Barnes and Noble, and other retailers. Her 2018 Heather Redmond debut, A Tale of Two Murders, has received a coveted starred review from Kirkus Reviews.
Today I am sharing my Feature Post and Book Review for MURDER AT MIDNIGHT (Lilly Adler Mystery Book #4) by Katharine Schellman on this Partners In Crime Virtual Book Tour.
Below you will find a book description, my book review, an excerpt from the book, the author’s bio and social media links, and a Kingsumo giveaway. Enjoy!
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Book Description
When a body is found shot to death after an unexpected snowstorm, Lily Adler quickly realizes that some people will stop at nothing to bury their secrets.
Regency widow Lily Adler is looking forward to a quiet Christmastide away from the schemes and secrets she witnessed daily in London. Not only will she be visiting the family of her late husband; she will be reunited with Captain Jack Hartley, her friend and confidante, finally returned after a long voyage at sea.
But secrets aren’t only found in London. Jack’s younger sister, Amelia, is the center of neighborhood scandal and gossip. She refuses to tell anyone what really happened, even when an unexpected snowstorm strands the neighborhood families together after a Christmas ball. Stuck until the snow stops, the Adlers, Hartleys, and their neighbors settle in for the night, only to be awakened in the morning by the scream of a maid who has just discovered a dead body.
The victim was the well-to-do son of a local gentleman–the same man whose name has become so scandalously linked to Amelia’s.
With the snow still falling and no way to come or go, it’s clear that someone in the house was responsible for the young man’s death. When suspicion instantly falls on Jack’s sister, he and Lily must unmask the true culprit before Amelia is convicted of a crime she didn’t commit.
Genre: Historical mystery Published by: Crooked Lane Books Publication Date: September 2023 Number of Pages: 320 ISBN: 9781639104321 (ISBN10: 1639104321) Series: A Lily Adler Mystery, 4
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My Book Review
RATING: 5 out of 5 Stars
MURDER AT MIDNIGHT (Lily Adler Mystery Book #4) by Katharine Schellman is another delightfully engaging addition to the Lily Adler Mystery series. This Regency historical mystery series features an independent young widow amateur sleuth who is once again called upon to assist in solving a murder. All the books in this series can easily be read as standalone mysteries.
Lily Adler is happy to be in Hertfordshire for the holiday season visiting with her late husband’s family. When they attend a country ball, Lily is happy to see her friend Captain Jack Hartley and his younger sister Amelia, but there is an undercurrent of side looks and gossip surrounding Amelia and a handsome gentleman also at the ball. She refuses to confide in her family, and hopes everything will blow over, until the gentleman in question is found dead in the snow outside the rear door shot in the head.
With the guests trapped by a snowstorm, Lily offers to help her magistrate brother-in-law investigate the murder. She believes in Amelia’s innocence, but she also knows she is hiding secrets and she is not the only one. Will Lily be able to discover the murderer from among the stranded group of guests, or will she find herself buried deep in the snow?
I really enjoy the independent Lily, her interesting personal life since coming out of mourning, and her inquisitive nature that is irrepressible. All the secondary characters are fully developed. The mysteries are paced perfectly between the discovery of the crime and the always exciting climax as well as being full of twists and red herrings that keep me guessing. The research is evident in the description of clothes and the depiction of etiquette and mores. I look forward to each new book in this series.
I highly recommend this captivating Regency historical mystery and all the previous books in this series.
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Excerpt
Lily sat bolt upright. Where had the sound come from? It hadn’t been loud . . . another part of the house? For a moment, in the pressing silence, she wondered if she had drifted back to sleep without realizing it and imagined the whole thing.
But a moment later, the sounds of a commotion rose just outside her window. Lily dashed to the window, throwing it open with some effort and peering out into the swirl of snow and early- morning light.
The guest room she had been given was one of the smaller ones—the better to quickly heat rooms that hadn’t been prepared in advance—and as was typical for such rooms, it lacked a pretty view. Hers looked over what she realized after a moment must be the poultry yard. Darkly clad figures who she could guess were servants stumbled through the thick layer of snow that had fallen, trying to reach the two people in the middle of the yard.
One Lily could see from her vantage only as a still, upright figure, hand outstretched and pointing toward the second person, who lay sprawled on the ground. The one on the ground was half covered by the ice and snow, unmoving.
Lily grabbed the dressing gown from the chair, pulled on her shoes, and ran from the room. In the hallway, a few guests were poking their heads out of their doors, hair tousled and faces creased with sleep, inquiring grumpily if anyone had heard an odd noise.
Lily didn’t stop to consider propriety or worry about what anyone else might think before she yelled “Jack!” as loudly as she could. She didn’t know which room he had been given, but a moment later, a door past the stairs was flung open and the navy captain’s head appeared.
“What is it?” he demanded. He was already dressed and wearing his driving coat over his clothing. That was odd at such an early hour, but Lily didn’t have time to be surprised.
“Downstairs.” In spite of the months they had spent apart, Lily knew she could depend on him to understand and act quickly. “Something happened. We have to help.”
And in spite of those months apart, he didn’t stop to ask questions. More guests were emerging, summoned by Lily’s shout, and questions were beginning to fly back and forth as she dashed down the stairs, Jack on her heels.
They didn’t need to wonder where to go; on the floor below, Mrs. Grantham was following a stately-looking woman who might have been the housekeeper or another upper servant. Their pace was just barely too dignified to be a run, but they couldn’t hide their worry as they disappeared down the steps to the kitchen. Lily and Jack hurried after them.
The servants’ staircase was narrow and cold. At the bottom, servants clustered in the kitchen, talking in shrill, anxious voices as the cook tried to keep some order. The underservants glanced uneasily at Lily and Jack as they came into the kitchen, but no one seemed to know what to do or say. The door to the yard had been left wide open, and the wind blew in gusts of snow and icy morning light. Outside, more servants were gathered, though they parted like a wave as the housekeeper led Mrs. Grantham out to see what had happened.
As Lily and Jack tried to follow, they were stopped by the frail but determined body of the butler, who interposed himself between them and the open door. “Madam, sir, perhaps you would care to return to your rooms? Breakfast will be ready shortly.”
Jack drew himself up, clearly prepared to use his rank to push his way past the aging servant. Before he could say anything, though, and before Lily could think how to reply, Mrs. Grantham turned sharply.
“What is . . .” She trailed off, eyeing Lily and Jack with trepidation. She looked ready to send them on their way with some commonplace assurance. But half a dozen emotions chased their way across her face in that moment, and she instead asked, “Mrs. Adler, how many of the rumors about you are true?”
“That depends on the rumors,” Lily replied calmly, though her heart was pounding. Behind Mrs. Grantham, she could see the limbs of the eerie, still figure sticking out of the snowbank. “Though if you refer only to the ones that are most relevant at this moment . . .” She turned her gaze pointedly toward the body in the snow. “There is indeed some truth to them.”
Mrs. Grantham hesitated, then seemed to make up her mind in a rush. She stepped aside, pulling the confused housekeeper with her. There were boots for the servants lined up next to the door, crusted with mud from repeated use. Lily pulled off her delicate evening slippers, slid her bare feet into the pair that looked closest to her size, and followed as she and Jack were ushered into the yard, their eyes fixed on what awaited them there.
A man dressed in borrowed clothes, his skin white with cold, his hair thick with clumps of ice and snow. He could have fallen, hit his head, been caught in the storm and frozen. He could still be alive, in need of help. He could have had an innocent reason for being out in the storm.
He could have. But this close, Lily could see the snow that had been kicked aside and trampled by half a dozen feet in the servants’ frantic attempts to clear it away. The icy powder was too thick on the ground for her to see the mud of the yard. But it was still stained with red and brown from where the man’s life had leaked away in the night.
The once-snowy linen of his shirt was stained the same color, jagged and torn from the bullet that had ended his life. The gun that had fired it had been unearthed beside him, as snow-logged as his own body. The man’s frozen eyes and mouth were wide open, as though he had not believed until the last moment that whoever had faced him in that yard could be capable of the shot that had ended his life.
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Author Bio
Katharine Schellman is a former actor and one-time political consultant. These days, she writes the Lily Adler Mysteries and the Nightingale Mysteries. Her books, which reviewers have praised as “worthy of Agatha Christie or Rex Stout” (Library Journal, starred review), have received multiple accolades, including being named a Library Journal Best Crime Fiction of 2022, a Suspense Magazine Best Book of 2020, and a New York Times editor’s pick in June 2022. Katharine lives and writes in the mountains of Virginia in the company of her husband, children, and the many houseplants she keeps accidentally murdering.
The latest installment in Darci Hannah’s delicious Beacon Bakeshop Mystery series set in small-town Beacon Harbor, Michigan, featuring a baker heroine who lives in the local lighthouse with her beloved Newfoundland dog, Wellington.
Lindsey prefers to keep her bakeshop’s Halloween decor light and autumnal, rather than gruesome and ghoulish. But everyone knows her lighthouse home is haunted. Some intrepid teens have even tried to break in to witness the resident ghost themselves. Dreading Halloween night, Lindsey reluctantly allows her influencer and podcaster best friend, Kennedy, to host a live ghost hunting investigation in the lighthouse, conducted by a professional team. Protective of her ghost, Lyndsey is understandably nervous about what they might uncover . . .
The segment is uneventful—until things take a terrifying turn. The team freaks out. As Kennedy joins the mad dash outside, she bumps into what looks like the prankster teens’ creepy clown costume hanging from a tree. But when Lindsey’s dog, Wellington, begins to whine, they make a grim discovery: the clown is no dummy. It’s a corpse.
Now Lindsey and company will need to keep their cool if they want a ghost of a chance to solve the murder—and see another Halloween . . .
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Elise’s Thoughts
Murder at the Pumpkin Pageant by Darci Hannah is a good book for the Halloween season since many are already decorating their houses. This Halloween atmosphere has ghosts, goblins, pranksters, costumes, pirates, clowns, and dogs in costume along with professional ghost hunters.
The plot has the main character, Lindsey, renovating an old lighthouse, for her home and bakery. In the story the Halloween festivities include Lindsey having in her bakery a lot of pumpkin-flavored treats. Lindsey has also reluctantly agreed to let her best friend, Kennedy, do her live podcast from the lighthouse with professional ghost hunters. But things go sideways after they all stumble upon a fresh corpse in Lindsey’s yard. First, they thought it was teens doing a prank, a clown as a dummy, but it’s a corpse. With the help of her friends and her resident ghost they strive to find the murderer.
The mystery has many tricks and treats that include twists and turns. The action leaps from the pages. One of the treats the author gives her readers is the delicious seasonal recipes included at the back of the book.
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Author Interview
Elise Cooper: How did you get the idea for the series?
Darci Hannah: This is the fourth book I have written in the series. I have the setting in Michigan. I love to bake, and my youngest brother bought a bakery, so I incorporated a bakery and lighthouse into the series. I wanted to be a paranormal writer, so I slip some of this into my writing. When I started this series, I thought of a haunted lighthouse tale within a cozy mystery. I always visit a lot of lighthouses. I came to realize a lot of lighthouses have a history and a story about lingering lightkeepers. In this series the lighthouse has a history and a ghost story. Lindsey, the protagonist lives in the haunted lighthouse and has developed a working relationship with this lighthouse ghost.
EC: Was any of this real?
DH: A lot of the techniques of the ghosts I use are from real lighthouses here in Michigan. People see eerie green lights which I incorporated in this story. There are a lot of shipwrecks here. Because I did dive on shipwrecks, I included it in the story.
EC: What is the role of Halloween?
DH: It was great fun to write a Halloween theme. The idea came from my publisher. There are pirates, the Wizard of Oz comes into it with the costume of a straw headed person. The “Pumpkin Pageant” had people dressed in costume along with their pets. Everyone in the bakery owned by the protagonist dressed in a theme costume. There is also a pumpkin carving contest.
EC: Was Wellington, Lindsey’s dog based on a real dog?
DH: Yes, I love dogs so there are a lot of dogs in my story. Wellington is Lindsey’s dog. He is a Newfoundland because I had a dog of that breed. He is the perfect dog for a lighthouse because they are big water dogs. He has freedom and space now. He also loves to fish.
EC: How would you describe Lindsey?
DH: She has a financial background. She is practical, wants to make people happy, is pretty, and caring. She is from New York City and has moved to a Michigan small town. She has her mother’s looks and her father’s brain. She is not a social media person, more private.
EC: How would you describe her boyfriend, Rory?
DH: He is an ex-Navy SEAL who is a conglomerate of some of my friends. He is a woodsy outdoorsman. The whole state shuts down in November during deer season. I wanted to put this cultural piece of Michigan into Rory’s character. He is very protective, kind, funny, intense, and a good diver. Together they are an item and are attracted to each other. She sees him as intriguing. They respect each other a lot.
EC: The next book?
DH: The next book in the series continues the holiday theme. It is titled Murder at the Blarney Bash, a St. Patrick’s Day book, but coming out in January. The plot has a new Irish import store being opened by Rory’s uncle and cousin. There will be a Leprechaun in the story.
THANK YOU!!
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BIO: Elise Cooper has written book reviews and interviewed best-selling authors since 2009. Her reviews have covered several different genres, including thrillers, mysteries, women’s fiction, romance and cozy mysteries. An avid reader, she engages authors to discuss their works, and to focus on the descriptions of their characters and the plot. While not writing reviews, Elise loves to watch baseball and visit the ocean in Southern California, with her dog and husband.
High-powered businesswoman Lana Rubicon has a lot to be proud of:her keen intelligence, impeccable taste, and the L.A. real estate empire she’s built. But when she finds herself trapped 300 miles north of the city, convalescing in a sleepycoastal town with her adult daughter Beth and teenage granddaughter Jack, Lana is stuck counting otters instead of square footage—and hoping that boredom won’t kill her before the cancer does.
Then Jack—tiny in stature but fiercely independent—happens upon a dead body while kayaking. She quickly becomes a suspect in the homicide investigation, and the Rubicon women are thrown into chaos. Beth thinks Lana should focus on recovery, but Lana has a better idea. She’ll pull on her wig, find the true murderer, protect her family, and prove she still has power.
With Jack and Beth’s help, Lana uncovers a web of lies, family vendettas, and land disputes lurking beneath the surface of a community populated by folksy conservationists and wealthy ranchers. But as their amateur snooping advances into ever-more dangerous territory, the headstrong Rubicon women must learn to do the one thing they’ve always resisted: depend on each other.
MOTHER-DAUGHTER MURDER NIGHT by Nina Simon is both murder mystery and multi-generational family drama combined into one heartfelt and intriguing read. Grandmother, mother, and daughter are reunited by a devastating medical diagnosis and while working through their dysfunctional dynamics they also work together to solve a murder. This is a standalone mystery that could easily become a series if the author wished.
High-powered L.A. real estate mogul, Lana Rubicon is seriously ill and now needs the assistance of her daughter, Beth who lives 300 miles north with her daughter, fifteen-year-old Jacqueline “Jack”. It is a difficult adjustment for everyone.
While Jack is leading a kayak tour of the slough, a dead body is discovered. When Jack becomes a suspect, Beth begs Lana to hire a criminal lawyer, but the bored Lana decides this is the perfect opportunity to focus on anything but her disease and protect her granddaughter by finding the real murderer. As the women discover a web of family lies, hidden agendas, and land disputes the danger escalates, and they learn that to find the truth they must do something they have never done, depend on one another.
This is a genre mash-up that delivers on both the dysfunctional family drama with humor, tough love, and learning to understand another’s view and an amateur cozy murder mystery that has plenty of twists and red herrings that kept me guessing until the end. The first third of the book leans more towards the family dynamics and discovery of the body and then the investigation plotline of the murder becomes intertwined, and the pace of the amateur investigation increases to the climax. The characters are entertaining and unique, but the family dynamics and interactions make them come to life.
I enjoyed and recommend this unique genre mash-up.
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About the Author
I write crime stories about strong women. My first novel, MOTHER-DAUGHTER MURDER NIGHT, about a grandma, single mom, and teenage girl who come together to solve a murder mystery, is out now.
Writing is my joy. In college, I was an electrical engineering student by day and a slam poet by night. After a brief stint at NASA, I started designing interactive exhibits and eventually became a museum director. I wrote two books of nonfiction about participatory, relevant cultural institutions. I thought of nonprofits as my “real” job and writing on the side.
Then, my mom got sick. I quit my job to help care for her, and I found myself turning to fiction–crime stories especially–as a way to escape during a hard time. My mom and I both always loved mysteries, and I decided to try to write one myself, with a detective/hero based on her. Now, my mom is doing better, and I’m gratefully spending my days writing, reading, and dreaming up new stories.
I live off-the-grid in the Santa Cruz mountains with my family.
