Hello! I am the author of the Rhiannon Nolan cozy mystery series; Death in Chintz, Death in Blue Velvet, Death in Starched White, Death in a Bad Habit, Death in Holly and Ivy; a Christmas Mystery, Death in a Union Jack, Death in the Stacks, and my latest book, Death in a Pink Cadillac: the Door County Special. You can buy my books on Amazon. Look under my maiden name of Kathy Buchen for the author. The books are great fun and great reads to curl up with in front of a cozy fire on a gloomy day. In my real life, I'm a librarian and the mother of two terrific kids (Kelsey and Eddie) of whom I am justly proud! You might find me working in the library in the Children's Room, walking my dog Shadow the white wolf through the neighborhood, working out, biking, or having two hour lunches with my many BFFs. If I seem distracted, I'm probably thinking of the plot for my next book! Just want to add that I also have a historical novella named Rainmaker, and a brand new women's fiction saga, Bless Me Father for I Have Sinned.
Chapter Twenty: In Disguise
“Crumbs, crumbs, and more crumbs!” I said in my whiskey voice. “What’s a mob moll grandma to do?” I asked myself. I leaned a hip against the counter, crossed my arms, and thought. I needed a car, preferably a big, fancy, black SUV with tinted windows and rental car plates. Hah! Bingo! I went to the phone and dialed Didi’s number. Didi answered the phone in her usual dulcet tones. “Hello?” “Hi! You know that Lexus SUV with the tinted windows that Pip rented to drive you two around in while you’re here visiting? I’m borrowing it. Are the keys in it?” I asked. “I’m doing a little sleuthing.” “No, no, no, and absolutely not!” cried Didi. “Didi! This is absolutely imperative. Without it I’m sunk!” “No!” “I’ve put all my effort into this. I’m hot on the trail of Brucie’s killer. I’m in disguise. This one is better than Nanny Boyle, the nun costume, and the maid costume combined. It’s going to blow you out of the water. What do you say?” “Not unless I get to go with you and take pictures.” “No pictures! I’m not letting myself in for blackmail! Where’s Pip?” “He is at the country club for the men’s spring charity luncheon.” “Good, I’ll be over in five minutes. But you can’t tell anyone, not even Pip, unless you want us both to end up at the bottom of Lake Michigan in cement water wings.” “I promise.” “Solemn blood sister promise from 1966?” “Solemn blood sister promise!” Five minutes later, I walked across the street and rang Didi’s doorbell. She answered the door, took one look at me, and slammed the door shut. “Hey! Didi! It’s me!” I cried. The door opened slowly and one of Didi’s huge violet eyes appeared and gave me the once over. “Are you sure that’s really you in there?” she asked. I gave her a swagger and a shoulder roll. “Whaddaya think? It ain’t Mary Poppins, honey,” I said in my whiskey voice. “Now get outta there before I call my associates and they make you disappear. They’ll make you an offer you can’t refuse.” The door opened and the rest of Didi appeared. “Good God! You scared the bejesus out of me!” she said. “Did you join the mob or what? Is that real fur you’re wearing? Tabby wouldn’t like it, you know.” “Are you kidding? It’s a fake, like everything else about me.” I unbuttoned my fake fur coat, opened it, and gave her the full effect. Her violet eyes opened wide as she took in the full glory of my transformation. “Where did you get those boobs?” she asked and peered at my chest. “Are those real? And how come your skin is so dark? And what is with all the glitter, the gold, and the diamonds? You never wear all black except to a funeral, and that dress is way too sexy for funerals, and way too sexy for your age, if I may say so. Ditto for the black stockings and the thigh high boots. And where did you get those outsize Jackie Kennedy sunglasses? Take them off so I can see your eyes. That’s better. Did Stan ever see you in this getup? He wouldn’t let you out of the house in that outfit. In fact, he wouldn’t let you out of his sight. Who put your makeup on? Somebody from a Las Vegas brothel? And what’s with that Cleopatra wig? Are those false eyelashes or your real ones with fifty coats of mascara? And are those fake lips? Did you have them botoxed? You never wear fake nails, or even nail polish, and those nails are at least an inch long, red, and with glittery gold stars to boot. Did you have them done or are they stick-ons?” “Didi, I just used what nature gave me, added a little artifice, and just accentuated the positive, baby,” I said in my whiskey voice. Didi squinted at me. “A little artifice? I’m having a hard time believing that this is really you. If those boobs of yours get any more accentuated we’re going to have to call in the National Guard. Those things are lethal weapons! Seriously, how far do you have them pushed up? A foot? Are you supposed to be a drag queen or something? Is that a real Louis Vuitton handbag or is it a knockoff?” “Be serious! I’m a Chicago mob moll grandma enforcer about to capture Brucie’s killer,” I said in my own voice. And then I added in my acting voice, “And I’m freezin’ my ass off out here, so ya wanna let me in before I pull out my Glock and fill ya full ‘a’ holes?” “A Glock? You better get in here and explain this to me before someone drives down the street and thinks I’m involved in some kind of prostitution ring for old people. If Donna Peaselee sees you standing on my doorstep I’ll never be able to hold my head up at the country club again. I’ll be banned from the tennis court, the pool, the golf course, and every charity I belong to.” I stepped into the foyer. “Prima Donna Peaselee should sleep with the fishes, baby,” I said. “You want I should bust a cap up her….” “Rhiannon Mary Kathleen Nolan! You are getting way too comfortable in this persona!” cried Didi. “Now drop the act and tell me what is going on.” I started work on Death in the Stacks, book seven in the series, in
January of this year. I found that old excitement returning, and the characters started to flow and come to life to such an extent that they once again took over and wrote the book almost by themselves. In this book, I return to the roots of the Rhi novels, with all of the story taking place in the village of New Belgium. Along with all of the old reliable characters; Rhi, Didi, Mick, Stan, Matt, Tabby, Jennifer, Sgt. LeCaptain, Hairy Mary, Phoebe Keith, Kelly MacGuire, Charles Hungtington Gore, Paul Pavalik, Eunice, Fayne, Maida, Mr. Sheriff, and others, some new characters will be introduced. New actors such as the dishy aristocratic Phillip Plum, the crabby library janitor Davis Bumblecross, the mysterious Hans Jorgenson, and the ghostly spinster librarian Ivy Lee will take the stage. Also, look out for a few villainous mob members to make the scene. And when one of them, who also happens to be the president of the library board, ends up dead beneath the stories of true crime in the library morgue , it’s hard to discover the exact cause of death. Why was he poisoned, stabbed, shot, and coshed on the head with a candlestick in the library? Is it a diabolical game of Clue or just a very thorough mob murder? How many potential killers are there? The suspects and the red herrings fly as Rhiannon tries to ferret out the villain. The new book will be a spicy dish, served up with several twists at the end to keep things interesting. Even though Rhiannon is now married to hunky Stan, she still communicates with the steamy, dreamy, sexy Mick. No Rhiannon book is complete without Mick, even if he is only there in her imagination! Along with plenty of red herrings, there will be intricate plot twists, send up humor, and plenty of Rhi’s smart aleck one liners. There will be a reversion to the old familiar plot theme of Rhiannon in imminent danger at the hands of multiple villains. Rhiannon will once again go undercover in disguise, this time as the hilarious mob grandmother, Mama Z. This book will be much longer than Death in a Union Jack, with a few extra threads woven into the plot. I’m looking forward to writing every chapter. The time of year will be very early spring, a time of year that we have not explored in any of the Rhiannon novels as yet. And as everyone knows, spring in the north country can be surprising, deceptive, and mercurial—rather like Rhiannon herself! |
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