MURDER MOST SCENIC (PAPERBACK)

A cloud of dust rose into the air as I moved a box in the attic. Up here, the storm that thundered above us sounded even louder.  I shifted my eyes to the ceiling, still not used to being in this old Victorian in a storm. 

Actually, I wasn’t used to being in the Victorian, period, but at least I’d gotten slightly more used to it.

But I wasn’t certain how I felt about the fact that my sister had died in this house only a handful of months ago.

Sometimes, I still couldn’t believe she was gone. The idea of her walking through the same rooms, looking out the same windows I did now, left me with a mixture of warmth and bitterness. I missed her so much. If only I had been here for her—or if I could find out what really happened—maybe I could find some peace.

I shifted my weight, peering out the round window at the ocean below.  Whitecaps crested higher and higher as the wind swirled.  The waves smashed into the rocks on Jasper Beach, dragging them toward the sea.  

They sang as they tumbled over each other, being shoved to and fro.  

I felt much the same way they did since I’d moved to Maine after inheriting this house from my sister, Becky. 

Next to me, Becky’s cat, Grayson stretched her squat body out on the old area rug I’d tossed down for us as we worked in the attic.

As thunder shook the house again, she opened her eyes slightly before squeezing them closed again.  

I was surprised she wasn’t stalking around in the attic, calling my attention to whatever I was supposed to find up here.

She’d done it several times before–to the point that I thought she was magic.  She’d led me to more than one discovery as I’d investigated a murder during my first days in Maine.  Grayson and the tourmaline bracelet I now wore almost constantly.  

Apparently, it had some sort of mystical power that allowed me to see visions of both the past and the future.  

I stared down at it, my index finger rubbing the cool stone. “I really wish you would show me what happened to Becky or at least what I’m supposed to find up here.”

“Anything?” Bill’s voice startled me out of my rumination.  

I startled, scrambling on my hands and knees to the wooden steps leading down to the second floor.  “Not yet.”

“I’m coming up,” he called.  “And I’m bringing Martha.”

“Watch your leg,” I yelled as I backed up and plopped onto the floor next to Grayson.  

With Bill still recovering from a gunshot wound, I didn’t want him re-injuring his leg. 

“Bah, my leg is fine,” he answered with a shake of his head as his head appeared.  He climbed up into the attic and spun around to offer his hand to Martha.

They had been my two first friends in Machiasport when I’d moved, helping me solve not only the murder at West Quoddy Head Lighthouse, but also helping me sort through the mystery surrounding the bracelet and my sister’s death. 

1. Murder Most Eastern
2. Murder Most Scenic
3. Murder Most Quiet
4. Murder Most Wild