Here is your weekly reminder that there are also new articles up on our other website KRL News & Reviews! Every week there will be book reviews and giveaways, plus sometimes pet articles, theatre articles, and more! And listen to our new podcast!
I’ve published four cozy cat mysteries, starring Black Cat, who, with the aid of his ancestors’ memories, helps his ‘person’ solve mysteries and murder.
Chocolate bonbons go with books, and February offers these reading confections. Why are so many set in Maine? Also, Amanda Flower starts a new series for us to enjoy. Sweet!
Here is the latest installment of our new column, Top 5 Mysteries I Have Read During the Pandemic, this one from mystery author Elaine Faber. As we continue to spend most of our time at home, we are all looking for book suggestions so we asked mystery authors and reviewers to share the top 5 mysteries they have read during this pandemic.
Halloween is right around the corner, and people are decorating with pumpkins, witches, goblins, and black cats. My name is Black Cat, but I’m not “All Black” because I have a white chest and white feet. My cousin cats who are “All Black” have a much tougher time fitting into society. They’re the most likely to be left behind at the shelter because many people think they bring bad luck.
“If I’ve told you once,” Papa Red Warty Thing said. “I’ve told you a dozen times not to stray so far way. Look at you. You’re already at the end of your tendrils and into the road. The tractor is coming. You’ll be smashed flatter than a fritter!”
Anthony crouched next to the telephone booth behind the Rescue Mission. He pushed back a strand of dirty hair and wiped a ragged sleeve across his nose. He was sick of hot dogs and beans at the Rescue Mission and their phony Christmas spirit. He hated the sight of plastic Christmas trees, fake Santas, and the city’s hollow Christmas cheer.
He stood in the dark hallway. The thrill of anticipation plunged down his spine. He’d carefully planned every detail. Kill her, run down the back stairs, drive to the motel and pretend disbelief when he heard of his wife’s unfortunate demise.
“You never have a handkerchief when you need one. Here, take mine.”
Agnes shaded her eyes and looked up. Godfrey Baumgarten? How long has it been? The years zipped away as the flickering light played across the man’s face. She took his handkerchief, dabbed her eyes and blew her nose. She stumbled to her feet and stared at the tall, distinguished, grey-haired gentleman grinning down at her with the same rakish smile she remembered too well.
Even six weeks later, near the end of October, 2001, the country still reeled from the World Trade Center attack. Newspapers still wrote of little other than the dreadful aftermath of the incident depicting the nations’ agony.
