Hooray! A CHRISTMAS GUIDE TO FAMILY AND MURDER is out in the world–and at your favorite bookstore!
I have a couple of appearances coming up. If you are in the area, I’d love to see you there!
On November 7th I’ll be at Murder by the Book in Houston with Celeste Connally and Jess Armstrong. Link to Event HERE
On November 10th I’ll be at the Poisoned Pen in Scottsdale, AZ with Colleen Cambridge. Link to event HERE
I thought I’d share an excerpt of A CHRISTMAS GUIDE TO FAMILY AND MURDER. This scene takes place the morning after a gale has blown through the county leaving a trail of destruction in its wake. Frances wants to check on the residents of the nearby village.
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“Perhaps we should take a walk to the village and see if there is any assistance we can render,” I suggested. “And why not take the children with us? They must be in want of some fresh air and sunlight.” I twisted to peer out the window. “Yes, I think the mist has lifted and a few rays of sun are breaking through the clouds. I daresay they are eager to be outside.”
“I’ve never known my children to say no to an outing,” Fiona said with a bright smile.
We walked up to the third floor, where we found the children in the schoolroom, working at an old table, which must have been used by generations of Nash children. Ours barely noticed our approach. Grace was studiously writing on her side of the table, while Gregory helped Rose with a drawing.
“Do you plan to have illustrations in your story?” I took a peek over Rose’s shoulder, then peered a little closer. “Good heavens, what is wrong with that man?”
“He’s dead,” Gregory said in a matter-of-fact tone.
“That’s Mr. Scrooge,” Rose said. Then she added in a hushed voice, “He was murdered.”
Fiona and I shared a curious glance. “Is this the same Mr. Scrooge from A Christmas Carol?” I asked.
“No, but he’s enough like him that we decided to keep the name,” Gregory said. The two girls bobbed their heads in agreement.
“I’m a little confused,” Fiona said. “If Mr. Scrooge is dead, how is he to be redeemed? How is he to become a better person?”
“This is a different story, Mama.” Grace turned over the top page of her writing, hiding it from our view. “This is ‘A Christmas Murder.’ Scrooge is murdered, and the detectives, Frank and Georgianna are going to find out who did it.”
I clearly needed to have a talk with Rose, but first things first. “We are going to the village to see how they weathered the storm and if anyone is in need of help. Now that the weather is clear, we thought it would be good for the three of you to get out of doors.”
“We really want to finish this by Christmas,” Gregory said with a frown.
“You shall have plenty of time,” Fiona said. “But it’s our duty to offer help if it is needed. We can gather some greenery to decorate the house on the way home.”
Reluctantly, they all obliged us, and while they dressed in their outerwear, we engaged two footmen to carry baskets of prepared foodstuffs and blankets for any families who were without gas. By eleven o’clock, we were on our way. Though some low clouds had rolled in, the temperature was still balmy for Norfolk at this time of year. The village was in the opposite direction of the tenant farms. It was nearly a two-mile walk if we stayed to the lanes, but Fiona thought we could halve that distance by cutting through the fields. It would be muddy, but we all wore gum boots, and soon the children were scampering around us, running ahead and circling back.
We had passed through a stand of trees on the edge of the estate and had just reached a clearing when I saw something on the field ahead. Thinking it an animal, I called the children back. Though they all stopped and glanced at me, none of them returned.
Naturally.
“Stay clear of that creature up there,” I said, still walking toward them. “It might be hurt and strike out at you.”
“If it’s hurt, shouldn’t we help it?” Gregory was following my orders to the letter by not moving his feet, but he leaned so far forward, he was likely to tumble right on top of the thing.
Fiona was at my side when we caught up with the children. “Of course we should help,” she said, “but we must approach with caution.” She gestured for them to stay put while she and I took a few wary steps forward into the field. By then, we were less than six feet from the object on the ground, and it had become clear this was no animal.
“Dear heavens, I think it’s a person.” Fiona clutched my arm. We took one more synchronized step forward and froze.
It was a person. A man. Lying face-down in the muddy field.
