As I sit here at my computer, I can look out the window to our back yard. The temperature is currently 10F degrees, and they are only calling for a high today of 29F degrees, but at least, for now, all the snow has melted. Living in the woods like we do, that means it is time to rake up all the left-over leaves from last fall, and of course, pick up the hundreds of sticks that fell off the oak trees during our winter storms. However, before I do all that, I want to share with you the beginning of two more of my books.
These books are #3 and #4 in the Sophie London-Evin Foster series I introduced to you last week. The first book is titled, STONEHAVEN and is set in both New Orleans, Louisiana, and Natchez, Mississippi, which happen to be two of our favorite cities. Sophie and Evin are supposed to be on their honeymoon but find themselves in the middle of a thirty-year-old mystery. The prologue is below.
The storm raging outside the old house, sitting high on the bluff overlooking the river, was as violent as she had ever seen. As the bolts of lightning lit up the nighttime sky, thunder rattled the panes of the timeworn windows. “The gods are indeed angry tonight,” she thought. Unfortunately, the gods weren’t the only ones angry. Her wrath mirrored what was happening outside. She couldn’t remember the last time she had been so upset, but she had finally had enough. They had engaged in quite the argument when she had at last confronted him. She was so angry that she was shaking. She tried to keep her voice down so the servants didn’t hear, but the louder she voiced her concerns, the louder she became.
“How could you be involved in such a thing?” she yelled as she paced back and forth in the drawing-room, all the while gesturing with her arms and hands. “Telling me you were working late all those Friday nights when in reality you were hanging out at that awful casino.”
You could hear the swish of her silk blue dressing gown as she stopped and swung around to face him. He was sitting calmly in one of the many antique chairs in the room, with his long legs stretched out before him, staring into the glass of amber liquid as if the answer to her question could be found there.
She lowered her voice and continued. “They’re already talking about it at the garden club, you know. What am I supposed to say? A thing like this could ruin your career. We could lose everything.”
“You have nothing to worry about,” he quietly told her as he ran his free hand through his thick black hair. The other one was holding an after-dinner drink, of which she noticed he had already had many. “I have it all covered, and no one will ever find out. Besides, it’s not what you think. If you insist on knowing, I am working on a special assignment for the county prosecutor.”
“What exactly are you working on that takes you to the casino every Friday night?” she asked in a sarcastic tone.
“You know I can’t discuss my business with you, but I assure you, it is nothing to worry your pretty little brain over. Besides, I have been sworn to secrecy and couldn’t tell you what I am doing even if I wanted to.”
“I see,” she said, as she again stopped her pacing and turned to look at him. Then, in a very composed voice, she asked, “What are you going to do when my parents find out about your mistress?”
The shocked look on his face told her all she needed to know. What her source had told her must be true. His tone was quite indignant when he answered her.
“What are you talking about? Mistress, that’s preposterous. You know that you mean the world to me. I haven’t so much as looked at another woman since I met you.”
“Typical male answer,” she scoffed. “I’m talking about the woman you have been secretly seeing, for God knows how long, and a married one as well.”
He arose from the chair he had been occupying and walked casually to the small table holding a glass carafe of his favorite alcoholic beverage. The amber-colored liquid sparkled in the light from the chandelier.
“Who told you such an obvious lie?” he asked as she watched him pour himself another drink.
“You aren’t the only one who knows how to play a game of secrets. Besides, the woman’s husband is quite suspicious and came around last week to see if I knew anything. I pretended ignorance, of course. I don’t know why, but he seems to hate you enough as it is. I certainly can’t have him spreading the information all around town now, can I.”
“First of all, I can assure you, she is not my mistress and never has been. She was merely a youthful fling. I was through with her long before I met you. You must believe me.” He took a sip of the liquid and then continued. “Second, why do you always have to be so suspicious of everything I do? I shouldn’t have to explain myself, but whoever is feeding you this crap is lying,” he told her as he gulped down the last of the Scotch whiskey.
“Why shouldn’t I be suspicious, and why should I believe you? Why else would she be working for you? Is she also part of your Friday night escapades? Think of poor Emilie. What is to happen to her and our standing in the community?”
She watched as he was now the one to pace back and forth in the drawing-room. Finally, he paused long enough to refill his glass one last time and then turn towards her.
“What are you suggesting I do, fire her? They need the money she earns to make ends meet. Her husband drinks away most of what he earns. Think of their little girl and what it would mean for her.”
“What about your little girl? You must start thinking about what all this could mean to her future?”
He stopped in front of the fireplace and gazed up at the portrait of her and their daughter. Then he turned and looked at her.
“I don’t want to lose either you or Emilie. Whether you believe it or not, the two of you are my whole world. Give me a chance to prove it. Tell me what you want.”
“I want you to clean up your act. I will give you three months to stop seeing that woman and to stop going to the casino.”
He looked into his glass instead of looking at her and asked, “What happens if I don’t? I’m not sure my special assignment will be completed by then.”
“Then I will file for divorce. It will be painful, but I can’t go on living like this. In the meantime, I am taking Emilie and going away, so you have time to do what you need to do.”
He gave her a look of surprise and then asked, “Where will you go? You have never been on your own before. What will you do? I am worried about having you be someplace all alone where I’m not around to take care of you.”
“I’d rather you didn’t know as I need time to think. You mean the world to me as well. I need to take stock of my behavior. A woman in my position needs to figure out what she has done to drive her husband into the arms of another woman.”
Her last comment seemed to sting, and she noticed the set of his jaw after she said it. She thought she knew him well, but apparently not well enough. Was he telling her the truth? She just didn’t know anymore. Of course, her source could be feeding her false information, but what was in it for him? Did he hate her husband that much?
He was quiet for quite some time. She watched him as he stood at one of the windows with his head pressed against the glass, staring out into the night as the storm raged on. Was he thinking of her and their daughter, or was he thinking of the other woman? He finally turned and faced her.
“If you are going, I want to make sure you have a reliable car. Yours may not be that old, but I noticed it needs a few things done to it, and I don’t want you driving it too far. Also, since I don’t know where you are going, I want to make sure you get there safely. So, why don’t you take my car? It’s only a few months old. I’ll drop it off at the mechanic’s to have it serviced, and then, it is all yours.”
………
After his wife went up to their bedroom, he spent some time thinking about what she had said. “The other woman,” he thought. What would his wife think if she knew the truth? He walked over and stood looking at the grandfather clock that had sat in that same place for more than 135 years. What stories could it tell? He wished it could tell him what to do. He also wished he had handled current situations differently. Promises were promises, and if he made one, he certainly wouldn’t break it even if he did regret it later. He needed time to figure out what to do and felt lucky she had given him three months but hoped that was enough time.
He thought back to the day they had been married. It had been the happiest day of his life, except, perhaps, the day little Emilie was born. He loved her so very much. He would do anything for her, even allowing her mother to take her away for three months. He was going to fight for this marriage to continue. He hoped a little boy was born to carry on the family name somewhere in the future.
Maybe the house was the problem. His grandfather had always warned him about the curse, but he had shaken it off as the ramblings of an old man.
“No one believes in curses anymore, Granddad. Unfortunately, science and modern medicine can shoot holes in all of your stories.”
“Maybe so,” his granddad had said, “but you mark my word. There will be a tragedy in your life just like all the generations before you. There is no escaping the curse on Stonehaven as long as anyone lives here.”
He still thought the curse was simply an old tale; however, sometimes, late at night, when he was working alone in his office, located in one of the wings of the house, from time to time he was sure he could hear the laughter and cackling of an old woman. He always convinced himself it was merely the wind. He would then remember his granddad’s stories about Flavia’s curse. He would then worry about something happening to his wife or daughter. When they had found out his wife was pregnant, he had spent nine months praying all went well. When Emilie had been born, and both she and his wife were in perfect health, he had given thanks. Perhaps the curse was finally over, but who knew. When it came to his little Emilie, he took no chances. That is why he had the special room built. Of course, his wife did not understand.
“Why on earth do we need another room? This house has rooms in it now that we never use.”
“You don’t understand,” he told her. “This room will be special and hopefully protect her from the evil of this house.”
She had laughed and made some comment he currently couldn’t recall, but it had made fun of him. Even the architect had thought he was crazy, but he didn’t care. He would do anything for Emilie.
He left the drawing-room and walked towards the back of the house. He stopped in front of some bookshelves located along a wall formed by the sweeping stairway. He took a key from his pocket, moved aside several books, and found the lock. He put the key in the lock and turned it. Then, he swung the bookcase open to reveal a hidden room under the stairs. He walked inside, turned on the light, and stood there for a few minutes, absorbing the surroundings. The little table was still set for Emilie’s tea party with her dolls earlier in the day. He had found her here when he returned home from the office. It made him happy that his little girl had this particular room. His wife never could understand why the room was so important to him. He tried several times to explain that this room was new and perhaps would protect his precious daughter. He had to try.
He left the room and closed and locked the door, leaving the key in the lock. Perhaps while his wife and daughter were gone, he might see if there was something smaller and closer to the city that they could spend part of the year in. They had no immediate neighbors living way out here, and he thought perhaps his wife spent too much time alone. If she had more to do, places to go, and friends to visit, maybe she wouldn’t be so suspicious of his actions. Perhaps getting away from the house would protect them all from that dreaded curse. He wasn’t sure he believed in it, but why press their luck. He would look into it sometime during the next three months. For now, he would simply have to resign to the fact that she was leaving. He hoped it was only for three months as he wasn’t sure what he would do without them.
As he made his way up the stairs to their bedroom, he could have sworn he heard an evil laugh coming from somewhere deep within the bowels of the house.
………
There was no more discussion on the subject of her leaving, but after her husband had left for the office this morning, she had packed their daughter’s things and sent her away with the nanny, Claudette. She trusted Claudette as she had been with them ever since the birth of the little girl. She had given her enough money to get by until she could join them.
“Here is the address of where you are to go. I have made all the necessary arrangements. Tell absolutely no one that you are leaving. If all goes as planned, I will join you in a day or two. If the little one asks any questions, tell her we are going on an adventure. She loves those, especially if she knows I will be coming soon. I have some things I must do first if we are going to be gone for three months.”
“Can I at least tell my family I will be gone for a while? You know how they are. If I’m not in touch with them every day, they will come looking.”
“You can tell them that you, the child, and I are going on vacation for a few weeks, but be sure not to tell them where we are going. If they ask, say we are going away.” Then she thought for a moment and added, “Tell them it is east of here, but you aren’t sure exactly where it is.”
She waved to them both as Claudette drove her car down the drive; then, she slowly walked back into the house. She was looking forward to bidding this house farewell as she could not find it in her to love it as much as her husband did but would never tell him that. However, she would miss him, and hopefully, he would have turned things around when she returned. She loved him but couldn’t go on sharing him with another woman. If the woman would go away forever, but that was too much to hope for.
As promised, her husband had dropped his car off at the mechanic’s yesterday and was now using her car. She had gotten off the phone with the garage owner at 7:00 a.m. She was surprised he had called so early.
“Your husband made it sound like you needed it right away, so we set other things aside to get it done. I had my mechanic park it out front so it will be easy for you to drive out.”
“Well, I appreciate that. Why don’t you leave the keys in the ignition? I’m not sure when I will get there. That way, I won’t have to bother you. I want to thank you again for getting it done so quickly.”
She wasn’t ready to leave yet as she still had a little final packing to do. As she stood in their master bedroom, she thought back to the first night they had spent here. It seemed like a lifetime ago but was only four years. She ran her fingers over the beautiful necklace she was wearing. It had been a remarkable first-anniversary gift from her husband: “one of a kind just like you,” he had said. A tear threatened to roll down her cheek, but she wiped it away. She took the necklace off and put it in her bag. She couldn’t bear to wear it right now. So instead, she took another one out of her jewelry box and put it on. That was when she spotted the four photographs sitting on her dresser and decided to throw them into her suitcase as well. They would be a good reminder of what she was fighting for.
She finally packed everything and was ready to call a taxi to take her into town when the phone rang. She looked at her watch. It was only 8:30 in the morning. Who would be calling her this time of day? She hoped it wasn’t her husband. They had said their goodbyes last night, and she wasn’t sure she could leave if she heard his voice again. She also hoped it wasn’t her mother. She was not ready to explain why she was going away. She picked up the receiver and was shocked to hear the woman’s voice on the other end.
“Hello, no, he isn’t here,” she told the caller.
“Did he say when he would get to the office?”
“I would think you would know that, but I do believe he mentioned something about having to be in court most of the day.”
There was a sigh at the other end of the line, and she thought perhaps the woman would hang up but instead, she continued to talk.
“I guess it slipped my mind with all that has been going on today. I have a serious problem and was hoping he could help me. I brought my daughter with me today as she has to see the doctor this morning. I couldn’t get her into our doctor, so I made an appointment for one across the bridge. Now, my car won’t start, and we can’t miss this appointment,” the other voice said. “I’ve tried to find my husband to help out, but he must be out on a call somewhere.”
She thought to herself, “Why should I help this woman after what she has done?” but her motherly instincts took over, and she found herself doing it anyway.
“Look, his car was serviced yesterday and is still at the mechanics. I was going to use it, but I can wait until later. It is only a ten-minute walk from the office. The car is parked out front, and the key is in the ignition.”
“Are you sure it won’t be too much trouble? I guess I could call a cab.”
“No, go ahead and use it. It will cost too much if you take a cab. When you are done, drop the car off here, and then you can take a cab back home.”
“Thank you so much. You have no idea how much this means to me. It may take a while, but I promise I’ll bring the car out to you when I am done with it.”
After she hung up, she questioned why she had just offered this woman her only way to leave today. She should have told her it wasn’t her problem and to figure it out herself. Instead, now she would have to wander around the house for a few hours and wait for her husband’s car to be delivered. While she was waiting, she decided to climb up to the cupola and take one last look at the river as it made its way to the gulf before going on her own journey.
She went back up to the second level, where the access to the cupola was located. She pulled on the rope, and the trap door opened, and the steps came down. She quickly climbed the steps and, when she reached the top, pulled a chair over to the window facing the river and sat down.
The cupola was one of her favorite places in this old house. She could relax and watch the ebb and flow of the great river. When the large barges would pass by, she tried to guess their cargo. Sometimes she would catch sight of one of the river cruise boats. Then she would imagine where their next port of call was and what kind of people were on the boat. She didn’t feel so alone as she did on the main floors. She had no one but the servants to talk to, and they had stopped having parties for some reason. What friends they had always seemed to be busy lately. Maybe they felt the same coldness of the house that she did.
It was a massive house with rooms she had never entered and didn’t know why. Of course, her husband had told her before they married about the curse, but she said to herself that she didn’t believe in curses. She had even told him they were nothing but old wives’ tales. A house could not harm you or have a mind of its own, but there was no convincing him of that fact. However, after living here for four years, she began to wonder. Sometimes she got the feeling that the walls were watching her. Yes, it would be good to get away from here for a few months, if nothing else.
………
The “other” woman. That is who she had been for far too long. She had only herself to blame. What had she been thinking? She had a perfectly good husband that thought the world of her. She risked losing him and her little girl if she didn’t break it off with the man. She was surprised the woman had offered her the car. Perhaps she still didn’t know what was going on. If that were so, then what she was doing would save them all a lot of pain. She was taking her daughter and going far away from here where no one could find them, not even her husband. She should have done it a long time ago. It was the only way. What was the old saying, out of sight, out of mind? She had wanted to tell both her husband and the man in person that she was leaving, but maybe this was better. This way, neither of them could try and talk her out of it. She had left a note on her husband’s dresser after he left for work and another note on the man’s desk. Then she had closed his office door, walked away, and never looked back.
After the phone call with the woman, she took her daughter’s hand, grabbed their bag, and started the ten-minute walk to the mechanic’s. She planned to drive to Vicksburg and catch a bus to anywhere it was headed. It didn’t matter just as long as it was far away from here. She hoped to find someone there she could pay who would drive the car back to Natchez for her. She had lied about her car. She had sold it yesterday so she would have funds for this escape. When her husband had asked where it was, she lied and said she had loaned it to a friend. He had given her a skeptical look but hadn’t asked any more questions.
She saw the black car in the parking lot and was relieved when she looked inside. As promised, the key was in the ignition. She stowed the bag in the backseat along with her daughter, who she carefully buckled in. Finally, she sat down in the driver’s seat, gave a sigh of relief, gave thanks for this generous offer, and turned the key. Her days as the “other”’ woman were over.
………
She had spent a half-hour relaxing in the cupola and thinking. She certainly hoped she was doing the right thing. What if her husband was telling her the truth? What if her source had been lying to her? She was beginning to doubt her decision but knew she couldn’t turn back now. She had made her mind up, and that was that. All she had to do now was take her suitcases downstairs and wait for the woman to return the car. She hoped the appointment didn’t take too long. She was anxious to get on the road and join her daughter. The sooner the three months started, the sooner her husband could follow through with his promise. She was still very much in love with him and was sure their marriage could be saved.
She retreated to the drawing-room where their argument had taken place and looked at the clock. It had already been an hour since she had talked to the woman. Anxious to leave, she filled her time roaming around the house and running her hand over tables and chairs that meant so much to her. At one point, she had thought about checking with the garage to see if the car had been picked up but decided to wait a little longer. She knew how doctor appointments went. How often had she sat for thirty minutes past her appointed time? She hoped the little girl wasn’t too ill. She wouldn’t wish that on any child.
Thinking of Emilie, she went up to her little girl’s room and looked around. She was trying to decide if there was any particular stuffed animal she had missed packing. A few were still lying on the floor by the old wooden dollhouse. She smiled when she saw it. When she was a little girl, the house had been hers, and her parents had sent it over last year for her daughter to play with. As she walked out of the room, there was suddenly a mad ringing of the doorbell and pounding on the door.
“Who in the world can that be?’ she wondered. She wasn’t expecting anyone, but since she had given all the staff the day off, it was up to her to answer the door. She made her way down the stairway and across the great hall. She had no idea who could be there, and from the sounds of it, in a very foul mood. She opened the wide front door and couldn’t believe who was standing there.
“What in the world are you doing here? You should be at work, and why the insistent ringing of the bell and pounding on the door? What is wrong with you?”
“What’s wrong? Have you any idea what you’ve done?” he slurred.
“No, I have no idea what you are talking about. Look, I don’t have time for you today. Now, go away.”
“She was the only one I ever cared about, and because of you, she’s gone. Believe me; you’re going to pay for this,” he shouted.
She made to close the door in his face, but he bullied his way into the house.
“I have no idea what you are talking about, and as usual, you’re quite drunk,” she told him. “I suggest you sober up, and then I might talk to you. By the way, where have you been? Your wife was looking for you earlier. She needed a way to get your daughter to the doctors, so I loaned her my husband’s car.”
He gave her a shocked look. He was the last person she wanted to see or talk to. It was all she needed and shoved him out of the house, slammed the door in his face, and locked it.
She had reached the top of the landing when the doorbell began ringing again. “If nothing else, the man is persistent,” she thought.
She made her way back to the front door and opened it.
“Listen, I told you to go away.”
It was then that she looked up and was surprised. It wasn’t who she thought it was.
“Oh, it’s you. What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be at your office? Look, now is not a good time for a social call.”
She turned to walk away but knew, in an instant, it was a mistake. He shoved his way into the house and started yelling at her. The last words she ever heard were, “Like hell you are!”
The second book included in this volume is Four Days to Midnight, which is set in the hills of North Carolina at a private mountain retreat. The weather and murder make for quite the four-day get-away for Sophie and Evin. Read chapter one and you will want to find out more.
Chapter 1 (Maintain Your Mystery)
It was early-October and the chill was definitely in the air. That usually meant that winter was coming early this year. He was finally starting to write again and since he never left his mountain home, an early winter didn’t matter. One day blended into the next as it wasn’t like he had a lot of visitors. He was thinking about this when his thoughts were interrupted as his assistant, Emory Starling, entered the room.
“Do you need something?” he asked.
“You received another letter today, sir. Shall I open it and read what it says?”
“You might as well,” he answered and let out a deep sigh.
He watched as his assistant carefully opened the envelope and took out a piece of paper. It looked like the other two letters he had already received. There was a concerned look on Emory’s face as he read over the contents of the letter.
“Well, what does it say, man? I don’t have all day,” although he knew he had all the time in the world.
“It is more threatening than the first two. Are you sure you want to hear what is written here?”
“Go ahead and read it to me. If you can’t do that then hand it here.”
“No, I’ll read it. It is written in the same handwriting as the first two. It says, , ‘Roses are read, violets are blue. Watch your back. I’m coming for you. I haven’t forgotten what you did. The world will be better when you are dead.’ ”
“Our little author is getting all poetic on me. Did this one have any particular postmark?”
“This one was mailed in Philadelphia. I believe the first letter was postmarked in New York and the second one in Savanah. It could be from any of them, sir. Maybe they have gotten together and hired someone to write the letters and then mail them to you. I really think the post marks are some type of hint. Do you think you should call in the authorities?”
“What good will they be? The last time I involved them nothing happened at all. Let me think about it. I’ll make a decision by this evening.”
<>
After Emory left his room, he thought back to what had happened two years ago. Hadn’t someone hurt him enough? He was a shell of his former self. There was no more attending important parties and being seen by the right people. He powered his wheelchair over to the full length mirror and took a look. This is what he had become. The suave debonaire Arthur Fontaine was now at least fifty pounds over-weight and confined to this dratted contraption. He needed help to do everything. Wasn’t that enough? How dare someone threaten to end his life. He could do that all by himself if he wanted to. However, he had decided to live and write again. Now, one of those evil people was threatening even that. Maybe Emory was right and he should involve the authorities but what if he was wrong? He couldn’t stand any more negative publicity.
He still remembered the headlines Emory had shown him after the accident. “Esteemed Author Arthur Dumont Involved in a Life Threatening Accident” and then the article that had suggested the cause of the accident was “extreme intoxication”. He had told the authorities that he only had one drink and he was sure someone at the party had poisoned him. Their investigation found nothing and the headlines surfaced again. “Arthur Dumont Can’t Accept His Drunkenness”. No, he had to find out who was sending the letters another way. There had to be some way of doing this.
He had his suspicions as to who was the main suspect but maybe Emory ‘s suggestion was right. After all, the postmarks were from the cities that all four of them could be found. Had all three letters been written by just one of them or had they banded together? Did one or all of them hate him that much that they would hope to see him in his grave? Hadn’t the accident been enough? He spent the rest of the day sitting in his wheelchair and staring out at the mountains. Darn it, he thought, I’m an esteemed author of mysteries. I should be able to think of a way to find out who is sending these letters.
<>
Miles, his man servant, brought his dinner to him at precisely 6:00 p.m. Miles had been with him for over twenty years and for the past two had gone above and beyond all expectations. When Arthur was discharged from the hospital and transferred here to Foxworth, both Emory and Miles had come with him. Miles still set out his clothes for the day but he also helped bathe him, take care of all his bodily needs and put him to bed each night. Arthur wasn’t sure how he would survive if it wasn’t for Miles. Even though he wasn’t particularly hungry he did manage to eat enough that Miles wouldn’t scold him. At 7:00 p.m., Emory returned to see him.
“Well, sir, have you given any thought as to what you are going to do about the letters?”
“As a matter of fact, I have. To quote Machiavelli, ‘The best defense is a good offense.’ I won’t go into all the specifics for now but I have decided to invite a few authors to spend four days here at the end of October. I am going to present them with a challenge that they won’t be able to refuse. With each of them out in the open, I can keep a better eye on them.”
“Are you sure that is wise? You may be asking for trouble.”
“I have that covered. You will see. For now, I need you to contact a couple people for me. After I have spoken to them I will fill you in on all the details. I am planning this grand extravaganza for the end of October. I want their last night here to be Halloween. I want to give the culprit a special send off. Let’s see just how good they all are at solving mysteries that they don’t write.”
<>
It had taken a few weeks but he thought that Emory and he had all the pieces of his plan in place. When Emory checked in with him this morning, he was excited to finalize it all.
“Have you sent out all the invites,” Arthur asked.
“Yes, I have sir; just like you asked.”
“What exactly did they say? I want to make sure the invited guests come.”
“I included the following information and had them engraved on heavy-weight antique-looking parchment paper. I wanted to make sure they didn’t just throw them in the trash without opening them. Each invite said: ‘You are cordially invited to attend a four-day seminar at the home of famous mystery author, Arthur Dumont. You have been chosen by Mr. Dumont for your deep devotion to the genre and your success in the literary field. You, along with four other mystery gurus, will spend the time listening to Mr. Dumont talk about how to be successful in the field. To add a little excitement to the four days, you will be competing for the right to co-author Mr. Dumont’s next novel.’ That part I put in bold lettering so they didn’t miss it. Then, it goes on to say, ‘You will also have the opportunity to ask him questions and have a personal one-on-one conference with him every day. Please bring a copy of your most recent novel for the various book discussions and critiques that will take place during your four day stay. Each invitee will be allowed to bring one guest. Please R.S.V.P by the appointed date. Then, it has a section that says: Place-Foxworth, Mr. Dumont’s hilltop mansion located outside of Ashleigh, North Carolina. (Directions to follow). Date-October 26th-October 31st. Please plan on arriving by 5:00 p.m. on October 25th. R.S.V.P. to: Emory Starling, P.O. Box such and such, Ashleigh, NC, no later than October 15th’.”
“Excellent. That should attract them all: especially the competition part. Most of them could use their name associated with mine and as much as they detest me, their egos will win out.”
“I figure, sir, that once we have all of the R.S.V.P.s we can assign rooms and decide if there is anything else we may need,” Emory said.
“Have you ordered all the special items I asked for?”
“Yes, sir. I have been assured that they will be arriving tomorrow afternoon.”
“Good. How about all the other supplies?”
“They will be here a week before the guests, sir.”
“Have the cooks, maids and the butler and other staff all been informed? This will be extra work for them.”
“Yes, sir and they all understand their role. As you say, they realize this will be extra work for them but have assured me they don’t mind. I have also been interviewing candidates for the added staff we will need.”
“Very good. I just know this is going to be the finest novel that Arthur Dumont has ever had his name attached to in a long time. Each of our guests has much to offer and will be a great assistance in making sure this novel is successful.”
“I know you have been planning this ever since the letters started to arrive, but are you sure nothing will go wrong? I still think you are just inviting trouble.”
“What could go wrong? It is a fool proof plan. With them here, we can at least keep an eye on them. It is my plan to see if I can figure out who is the culprit.”
“It’s just that I worry about one of the invitees,” he was told. “She wasn’t even involved three years ago.”
“Oh, you mean Sophie London-Foster? I especially want her here. She is the best author among them all. I am hoping she wins the competition and if not, keeps the others at least honest.”
“She is married to that private investigator and has even helped him in the solving of several murders. Could she be a threat to your plan?”
“No, I especially want Sophie here and I know for a fact her husband will not let her get involved. However, she will make the four days even that more interesting.”
“Well, I guess you know best, sir. Is there anything else I can get you before you retire for the evening?”
“No, that will be all. Miles will be up soon to help me get ready for bed.”
“Then I’ll see you in the morning, sir. Good-night.”
<>
After he was alone in his room, he sat there in his wheelchair and contemplated the coming event. He had done such extensive research and planning that he just knew it was fool proof. Any concern about inviting Sophie London Foster had been noted but he especially wanted her here. Many of the other authors he had invited almost wrote with a formula. It had come to the point that he couldn’t believe many of them hadn’t lost their fans as you could usually figure out who the culprit was half way through the book. It wasn’t that way with the books with Paula Arnold’s name on them. Her novels always had so many twists and turns that the ending was always a surprise. No, he needed Sophie Foster here if for no other reason than to add some pizazz to the four days. Her attendance would also make the other four less suspicious as to his real reason for inviting them. He was also hoping that with her sharp mind, she won the competition. Co-authoring a book with her would almost definitely spell success. However, he was counting on Sophie and her new husband to do more than that. If she somehow chose not to come, her husband might change his mind. Arthur wasn’t sure he would survive the four days knowing what he knew if the Fosters weren’t there.
You can order this book through Amazon.com simply by clicking on the cover photo in the sidebar. I am currently working on books #5 and #6 of the series and hope to have them ready for publication by this coming fall. If you do happen to purchase this book, please leave an honest review for me on Amazon. The reviews help me become better at my craft.
I hope you have enjoyed these excerpts from STONEHAVEN and Four Days to Midnight.
As always, “Don’t save today for tomorrow.”
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