By Ellery Adams
In the small coastal city of Oyster Bay, North Carolina, you'll locate lots of characters, ne'er-do-wells, and even a couple of celebs attempting to duck the paparazzi. but if homicide joins this curious group, the Bayside booklet Writers are there to get the story...
Olivia Limoges is the topic of continuous gossip. Ever seeing that she got here again to town-a go back as mysterious as her departure-Olivia has saved to herself, her puppy, and her unfinished novel. With a bit cajoling from the eminently fascinating author Camden Ford, she consents to affix the Bayside booklet Writers, holiday her writer's block, or even make a couple of friends...
but if townspeople begin turning up useless with haiku poems left by way of the our bodies, someone with an aptitude for language is without notice suspect. And it's as much as Olivia to seize the killer prior to she meets her personal shock ending.
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Additional info for A Killer Plot (A Books by the Bay Mystery, Book 1)
On the seventh or eighth night after the death of Lady Madeline, I experienced the full power of these feelings. For hours I lay awake, struggling against a sense of fear. I blamed my surroundings — the dusty furniture, the torn curtains which moved about in the wind of a rising storm, the ancient bed on which I lay. But my efforts were useless. At last, thoroughly afraid, I got up and looked as hard as I could into the darkness of the room. I heard — or thought that I heard - certain low sounds that came, from time to time, through the pauses in the storm.
In spite of its wide swing (which was now thirty feet or more), and its great force, it would not, for several minutes, cut into my flesh. At this thought, I paused. I dared not think further. I watched the blade as it flew above me. Down — steadily down it came. To the right — to the left - far and wide — with the terrible whistle of death! Down - certainly down just above my chest! I struggled violently to free my left arm. I shook and turned my head at every swing. I opened and closed my eyes as the bright blade flashed above me.
I did not know what answer to make to my friend. He admitted that much of the unhappiness which he suffered had a simple, and quite natural, origin. It was the long and severe illness of a greatly loved sister — his close companion for many 27 years — his last and only relative on earth. ' While he spoke, Lady Madeline (for that was her name) passed slowly through the room at the far end, and, without having noticed my presence, disappeared. I watched her with a surprise and deep fear that I could not account for.