Lavender Toes (A Cold Cream Murder Mystery)
by Barbara Silkstone
Lavender Toes
Someone dear to Olive is found dead—toes up and barefooted—in Digby’s Bees lavender field. Olive and Lizzy team up with WonderDog to find the killer. Digby’s hives are home to the wondrous Soprano bees. The little buzzers are the source of the secret ingredient that powers their Nonna’s Cold Cream—a fountain of youth in a jar.
Finding the killer becomes more of a challenge as the gals protect Digby’s bees from a determined land developer who wants the beekeeper’s farm. The clock ticks as saving the honeybees becomes every bit as important as finding the cousin-killer.
While Olive and Lizzy buzz about, Grams, nonagenarian ace reporter for the Silverfish Gazette, takes on the story of a diamond heist in nearby Sarasota. Can the gals protect Grams from another near catastrophe or can the feisty lady handle it alone?
Help the Cold Cream gals solve the mystery of the Lavender Toes while once again bailing Grams out of trouble. And what about those bees?
Every book comes with a recipe for a homemade beauty product.
Barbara Silkstone Guest Post
Robert
B. Parker Author Bumping
Author Bumping is a talent I
come by naturally. I have literally fallen into a full body bump with some big
name writers. These unplanned slams usually occur with hilarious results.
Robert B. Parker was a lovely
man. Readers and reviewers considered him to be the Dean of American Crime Fiction.
He created the wisecracking, street-smart Boston private eye, Spenser. The New York Times said of the Spenser
novels, “We are witness to one of the great series in the history of the
American Detective Story.”
My first meeting with Robert B.
Parker was not the auspicious event I would have preferred. I slammed into him
as if he were home base. All one hundred and twenty-five pounds of me hitting
his chubby frame with an “oomph!”
But let me back up and get a
running start into this story.
I was attending a writers’
workshop in London. It was comprised of a small group of dedicated hopefuls who
were there to hone their craft with instructors, Bob Parker, Stephen King and
PD James.
The workshop took place at the London
Polytechnic University campus located on Marylebone Road across from Madame
Tussaud’s Wax Museum and near White Chapel the hunting grounds of Jack the
Ripper. It was summer and the inner city buildings were deserted.
Red graffiti decorated
the walls using words I’d never heard before. The buildings have since been
renovated but at the time, the setting was pretty eerie.
I took a seat in the old
lecture theater, laying my knapsack and duffle bag on the floor at my feet. I
was pleased I had traveled light and finally got the hang of looking like a
writer. I had dropped the sissy pink dresses and kitten heels after the last
writers’ conference. Dressed in black slacks and a black sweater I was determined
to look like what I thought serious writers looked like.
Someone spoke from the stage – I can’t remember who – telling us where and how to find our room assignments in
the dorms and that someone would be addressing the group, shortly. I settled
back and admired the carved wood paneling and Phantom of the Opera ambience.
A professor-like woman turned
to me in the dimly lit room. “Hi. My name is Shirley. I’ve really got to find a
ladies’ room. Would you mind my bags for me?”
“Sure.” But even as I spoke I
knew I needed a loo trip, too. Now was as good a time as any. Shirley and I set
out in search of a potty leaving our bags in the care of an honest-looking
lady.
The halls outside the
auditorium were silent. Slippery, polished marble floor, stonewalls, and dim
lights but no restrooms.
“Maybe they’re on the second
floor,” I said.
We walked up a level. No loos, just dimmer lighting. Shirley and I agreed to head up one more level. With the
school abandoned for the summer, someone had taken to making a career out of
polishing the marble floors. They were as slippery as ice.
No potty. No loo. “One more
floor?” I asked. Shirley nodded, her eyes like two giant robin’s eggs behind
her thick glasses. It was awfully quiet. We made our way to the fourth floor clinging
to the banister to steady ourselves. A good tinkle was now at the top of my
list of most desirable things to do in London.
On the fourth floor we finally
found a ladies’ loo. We entered the harsh greenish light. The room felt like
the men’s room scene in The Shining. Jack
Nicholson meets the long dead manager of the Overlook Hotel. The guy who slaughtered his family with an
ax.
Okay, my nerves were prickly.
Shirley grabbed one stall and I
hit another. I’d clicked the door shut and was in bladder emptying ecstasy when
the door shook. “Open up or I’ll break the door down!” said a male voice with a
cockney accent. He rattled my stall door.
Knowing it would do no good to scream, I said…
“Absolutely not!” (I’m notoriously
polite.)
“Barbara! What’s going on?”
Shirley whimpered.
Then there was silence. Not a
word. Not a footstep. Only the sound of Shirley sobbing from her position two
stalls down. More silence. He was either waiting outside the door with a Jack
the Ripper knife or he had run away.
I made an executive decision. “Shirley,
at the count of three let’s make a run for it. One…”
“Barbara! I can’t! I can’t get
my girdle up. I’m too scared!”
Girdle? Who wears a girdle
nowadays? I was trapped in a farce with
a woman in a girdle, and a guy who might be very large and definitely evil.
“Shirley
ditch your girdle. We’re running for it! Two-Three!”
We broke out of our stalls like
two racehorses out for the Triple Crown. We hit the marble floor with
Flintstone feet flying. Funny thing about running on slippery surfaces—you can
build up some real speed.
At the second level Shirley
went reeling. “Turn into the skid!” I yelled at her as I grabbed the railing.
She squealed and then righted herself. By the time we hit the ground floor it
felt as if we were going a hundred miles an hour.
A group of people stood at the
entrance to the auditorium. Robert B. Parker was among them. I lost control and
went into a slide. Of the dozen people I ended up bumping headfirst into his
portly belly. Slam! I knocked the air out
of him and gave myself a dose of vertigo.
Security came running. Shirley
blubbered while I recounted what had happened.
“What did this bloke look like?”
asked the guard. “I didn’t get a look at
him. But he had a cockney accent, and he hadn’t made an honest mistake.”
I’ll never forget the look on
Bob Parker’s face. It was a mix of concern and a hearty laugh as my feet were
still Flintstone- running with my head pressed against his belly. I tried to
sound rational, but it was too late. The laughter echoed off the stone and
marble.
~*~
COLD CREAM
MURDERS—series
When Olive Peroni put out her family therapy sign, she
never thought her top client would be the retired head of a New York crime family.
When Olive’s Nonna dies leaving her a condo in Florida and a secret recipe for
miracle cold cream, Olive grabs the chance at a new life in Starfish Cove,
Florida, making designer creams for ladies who spend far too much time at the
beach.
The quiet little community on the Gulf of Mexico soon
begins to compete with a certain notorious coastal village in Maine, Olive finds
herself solving oddball murders as often as she soothes wrinkles.
Clean, wholesome, and loaded with laughs!
Each book contains a recipe for homemade cosmetics!
If you love to laugh as you ride along with your amateur sleuth, this is the series for you.
Olive, Lizzy, Wonder Dog, Grams and gang are busy making miracle creams, reporting the latest crime news, and following clues to surprising ends.
Heading directly to the lavender fields, Grams needed a quick bathroom break. That's where the troubles began. Disaster struck when newly met cousin Cosette is picked off by an arrow as Digby complains that his bees are being singled out by a neighbor who covets his land. Throw in a corrupt and bumbling Sheriff and everyone is lucky to survive this case.
An over the top series as fun as it is scary for those on the front lines of mystery solving.
Author
of the Florence Nightingale Comedy
Mystery Series: The Giggling Corpse, The Killer Corset, and The Cheeky Corner, Barbara Silkstone is
also the creator of the best selling Mister
Darcy series of comedic mysteries ~ 9 Books plus 10 Regency novels and
novellas, all with a light, humorous touch. She is also the author of the Wendy Darlin Comedy Mysteries – 5 Cozy
Romantic Adventures reviewers describe as Nick and Nora Charles meet Lara
Croft.
Plus standalone cozies based on fairy tales: The Secret Diary of Alice in Wonderland and Zo White and the Seven Morphs.
Most books are available in paperback and
audio!
Barbara Silkstone’s Amazon Author’s page
I
love hearing from my readers!
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can reach me on FaceBook, Twitter, and at the Second Act Café
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About Barbara Silkstone
Barbara Silkstone's most current series is COLD CREAM MURDERS ~ GLOSSY LIPS, SMOKEY EYES ~SOAP ON A ROPE.
Book 5 in the series is LAVENDER TOES.
This series will have at least 6 books when complete.
The adventures take place in the imaginary burg of Starfish Cove, Florida ~ a place near and dear to Silkstone's hometown of Redington Beach on the Gulf of Mexico just north of St. Petersburg, Florida.
Barbara currently lives in Central Florida with her eccentric kitty who adores Liam Neeson and chasing lizards (the cat, not Barbara) :)
Silkstone is the best-selling author of both Regency Pride and Prejudice variations, including the popular the MISTER DARCY SERIES OF COMEDIC MYSTERIES ~ PRIDE AND PREJUDICE contemporary variations.
All her books are light-hearted adventures based on Jane Austen's timeless tales of love denied and love discovered. "Feel good" tales to warm your heart.
She is also the author of the Wendy Darlin Comedy Mystery series. Five coffee-snorting tales that combine Cozy with outrageous adventures.
Plus a mixed bag of standalone cozy comedy mysteries: Zo White and the Seven Morphs, Cold Case Morphs, The Secret Diary of Alice in Wonderland ... and more.
Author Links -
Facebook - https://www.facebook.com/Barbara-Silkstone-Author-156097004489447/
Twitter - https://twitter.com/barbsilkstone
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