I'm pleased to welcome Violet to Cozy Up With Kathy today. You can find Violet on the pages of Murder Under a Cold Moon. This book is the thirteenth book in the Mona Moon Mystery series and was released last month.
My name is Violet. I am nineteen, have auburn hair, bluish-green eyes, and was born on Mooncrest Farm near Lexington, Kentucky. I was fifteen when the owner of the farm, Manfred Michael Moon, died and left his entire estate to his estranged niece, Mona Moon, whom no one had ever seen. I didn’t even know she existed.
Oh, my goodness! What a hullabaloo Miss Mona created when she arrived. First there was her appearance—natural platinum hair, pale skin, and yellow eyes—albinism genes run in the family. Her features look very similar to the movie star—Jean Harlow, which causes tongue wagging among the local ladies. Worst of all, she is a Yankee from New York, college educated, and has bizarre ideas about women’s place in society.
Miss Mona caused quite a stir in our insular little Bluegrass community with its firm ideas on Southern womanhood, which directly conflicts with Mona Moon’s convictions. She feels women should have control over their own money and have legal rights beyond the recently-acquired right to vote. It is the 1930s, and women cannot have their own bank accounts without their father’s or husband’s permission, nor can we get loans without a male relative’s signature. Even if we work, our male relatives have control over our salary. We cannot buy cars on our own or serve on most juries. So what does Miss Mona do? She buys a local bank and directs it to cater to women’s financial needs.
I was working as a maid at Mooncrest Manor when Miss Mona noticed I have an aptitude for sewing and sketching outfits. She asked me to create and sew some dresses for her. I was delighted as peach pie and jumped at the chance. Throughout the years we’ve became close. I design most of her outfits and act as a companion while she solves crimes—mainly murder. She, in turn, shows me the world.
Just this weekend, I have travelled with Miss Mona to a desolate part of England. She is soon to embark on her honeymoon with new husband, Robert Farley, Duke of Brynelleth, but before they catch a ship for a Mediterranean cruise, they have stopped over to visit an old friend of Robert’s—Lady Eustacia. The problem is Lady Eustacia is missing. Not only that, the telephone wires have been cut and the cars disabled. Because of a terrible storm, we can’t venture out to get help. It’s not looking good.
I dislike Lady Eustacia’s Blackhaven Hall intensely. It is an old Norman castle built by William the Conqueror. The pile of grey, moss-covered stones which make up the castle has an unhealthy atmosphere, and it gives off an ancient musty smell of despair and regret. I expect a ghost to jump at me any second and can’t wait to leave this skeleton of a manor country home.
Being so close to Miss Mona, I can tell she is disturbed as well, especially when a stranger collapses in the grand hall of Blackhaven Hall and dies right before our eyes. It isn’t just being unnerved by a prankster who cut the phone wires and disabled the cars any longer. There is now a murderer amongst us as there are other guests trapped at Blackhaven Hall as well. Sleuthing, Mona has discovered that each guest has a reason to murder Lady Eustacia, including the servants.
The question—is Lady Eustacia alive or dead?
If alive, where is she?
Who was the stranger at the front door and who killed him?
Will Mona Moon solve the secrets at Blackhaven Hall?
I know she will. I have faith in Mona Moon!
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Excerpt:
MURDER UNDER A COLD MOON
Mrs. Boffin pushed a rolling tea cart with an impressive sterling tea service along with a glazed sponge cake and short-bread biscuits into the room. “Oh there you are, Your Grace. Time for tea.”
Peregrine jumped up to help pull the cart into the room by the fire.
“I’m sorry there are not more cakes, but cook had little assistance as most of the staff went out to help the tenants. There is usually a splendid tea,” Mrs. Boffin explained.
“This looks fine,” Mona said, taking in Mrs. Boffin’s auburn hair and slim frame. She put Mrs. Boffin around mid-thirties and noted her green eyes. She was wearing a long-sleeved, blue-plaid, warm-looking wool dress with thick woolen hose and dark shoes. Mona thought Mrs. Boffin dressed a little too old for her age, but was still a handsome woman.
Mona asked, “Have you heard from the men?”
“They are making their way back. The first of them have arrived and are cleaning up in the kitchen. They’ll have their tea there. All the men were covered in mud and soaked to the bone, but we have a shower off the kitchen and extra clothes we keep on hand for emergencies. They will clean up fine. We’ll get them fed and warm before they start off for their homes.”
“Is His Grace back? I can gather fresh clothes for him.” Mona asked.
“The duke, Mr. Collier, and Major Dewsbury are bringing up the rear. They’ll be a while. However, Mr. and Mrs. Birley, as well as Mrs. Dewsbury will be joining us for tea.”
“What about Lady Eustacia?” Mr. Peregrine asked.
“I’m afraid Her Ladyship is still not feeling well enough to join us,” answered Mrs. Boffin, avoiding Mona’s glance.
Mona felt the excuse was a lie, but chose not to confront Mrs. Boffin as Mrs. Dewsbury and the Birleys joined the group.
Mr. Birley jumped in front of Mona hurrying to the fire. He warmed his hands, complaining, “Our bedroom is like ice. Mrs. Birley’s hands are frozen. Can’t something be done?”
“Perhaps your wife should stand closer to the fire, Mr. Birley, if that is the case,” Mona said, irritated that Mr. Birley practically pushed her chair aside from the blazing fire.
Mr. Birley looked stunned for a moment. He was not used to being challenged by a woman, but he remembered who Mona was. “I’m dreadfully sorry, Your Grace. You’re quite right.” He turned to his wife, standing embarrassed next to Mrs. Dewsbury. Her apple cheeks were crimson.
Mr. Birley said, “Here, my dear, take my place. Let’s thaw you out.”
Mrs. Boffin stepped in. “Your Grace, may I introduce Mr. and Mrs. Birley and Mrs. Dewsbury. Ladies and gentleman, Her Grace, Duchess of Brynelleth, Mona Moon Farley.”
“How do you do? Nice to meet you all,” Mona said. Since Mona was the highest ranking member present, she gave leave for all to sit. “Mrs. Boffin, will you pour please?”
Now Mona would never act so hoity-toity in Kentucky—Violet and her secretary, Dotty, would be joining tea time—but in jolly England, she followed English customs which were based on social hierarchy. Mona asked about Lady Eustacia again. “You say Lady Eustacia is not feeling well. She expressly invited His Grace and me to visit. When shall she receive us?” Mona asked, watching Mrs. Boffin closely.
“You say you were asked to come?” Mrs. Birley asked, stirring the sugar in her tea.
“Yes, Lady Eustacia wrote she had something to share,” Mona replied.
Mrs. Dewsbury glanced at Mrs. Boffin. “Do you know why the Duke and Duchess were summoned?”
Mrs. Boffin said, “I have no idea. I just wrote the note at Her Ladyship’s request.”
“This is most unusual,” Mrs. Dewsbury commented. She looked about for someone agreeing with her.
No one did. Everyone remained quiet, suspiciously glancing at each other.
Mona took a sip of her tea and studied the sullen group. She found their behavior odd—not jovial at all. Even with the dreadful storm, there should be some cheerful banter.
Noting that Mrs. Birley was older than her husband, Mona wondered what the attraction had been. She understood Mr. Birley’s interest in Mrs. Birley as she supposedly was to inherit a vast estate. However, she didn’t understand Mrs. Birley’s attraction toward her husband even though he was considerably younger. Mr. Birley was shorter than Mrs. Birley with a slight frame, balding forehead, and a florid countenance with a port wine birthmark on his neck. Perhaps Mr. Birley had an appealing personality, though Mona doubted it. The few minutes she had spent with Mr. Birley were not favorable. She disliked the man, especially when he went for the liquor decanters, pouring himself a tall glass of whiskey and never asking if he could pour a drink for the other guests.
She observed Mr. Birley’s neatly pressed grey suit with a tussie mussie slightly askew near the jacket’s lapel while his wife was wearing a dress from several seasons ago.
Mrs. Birley was entering middle-age. She had pleasant features, dark hair with reddish highlights, light blue, almond-shaped eyes, and a figure that was beginning to thicken. One thing Mona noticed was that Mrs. Birley’s feet looked swollen. She wondered if Mrs. Birley had diabetes or a heart condition, which might explain her nervousness. She twitched at every sound while glimpsing at her husband, who tended to ignore her.
Mrs. Dewsbury was made of studier stuff. She smiled and placed a hand on Mrs. Birley’s arm to calm her. “It’s just the wind, my dear.”
She turned to Mona. “I’ve never seen a storm like this. It’s awful you didn’t come in better weather to see the beautiful countryside. We are close to the coast, you know. Spectacular view from the cliffs, but you can still smell the sea from here.”
Mona commented, “I understand the hiking and fishing are very fine hereabouts.”
“Oh, yes,” replied Mr. Peregrine. “Are you fond of fishing, Your Grace?”
“Stream trout fishing,” Mona replied.
“We have brown and rainbow trout locally. The rainbow trout are an introduced species from America,” Mr. Birley said.
“Interesting,” Mona replied. “Do you fish, Mr. Birley?”
“Not at all. My sport is horses.”
Mrs. Birley let out a rude snort, but no one acknowledged it, least of all her husband.
Mona deduced that Mr. Birley must play the ponies. She wondered if he was a heavy gambler.
Mr. Peregrine suggested, “If you stay after the weather turns, I have some waders you may borrow.”
“We have plenty of waders here, Mr. Peregrine,” Mrs. Boffin corrected. “Her Grace need not bother you.”
“Thank you, Mr. Peregrine. That was a kind offer,” Mona said, disliking Mrs. Boffin’s hubris and slight to Mr. Peregrine.
Mr. Peregrine looked pleased at Mona’s reply to his proposal and settled back in his chair to eat a biscuit.
“I understand you are on your honeymoon, Your Grace,” Mrs. Dewsbury remarked, pleasantly.
Mrs. Dewsbury was a matron with beautiful silver hair pinned back into a bun. She wore a navy chambray skirt with a matching jacket with white piping over a silk white blouse. A colorful peacock broach, made from turquoise, agate, jasper, thulite, and opal stood out from the dark material of the jacket. She looked respectable and solid—a woman content with her life.
Mona put down her tea cup and answered, “Yes, Mrs. Dewsbury. After our visit here, His Grace and I will be taking a Mediterranean cruise.”
“I understand you worked before your marriage to His Grace,” Mrs. Birley said coldly.
Understanding the English gentry’s disdain for work, Mona replied sweetly, “I still work, Mrs. Birley. I like to feel I am an asset for society and not a drain.”
“The modern woman,” Mr. Birley said snidely, holding up his glass.
“What was your vocation?” Mrs. Dewsbury asked, giving Mr. Birley a side-eye glance.
“I worked as a cartographer, mainly in Mesopotamia. Currently, I run Moon Enterprises which owns copper mines around the world. I live at Moon Manor, a horse farm in Kentucky.”
“I see,” replied Mrs. Birley, appearing shocked that a wealthy woman wanted to work.
Mrs. Boffin said, “I’d like to see more women in the workforce. So many men died in the Great War and working outside the home helps the widows with grief. Keeps their minds on other things.”
Mona wondered if this was Mrs. Boffin’s story.
“I think women should stay home. Let the men handle the public life,” Mr. Birley said.
“No one asked you,” Mrs. Dewsbury said, contemptuously.
Mr. Birley took offense. “Well, I never!”
Ignoring Mr. Birley, Mrs. Boffin asked, “Did you have to go to school to be a cartographer, Your Grace?”
“I graduated from college, majoring in anthropology and geography. I specialized in mapping archaeology sites, but worked for the Persian Government mapping the Zargros Mountains for them.”
“Sounds exotic,” Mrs. Boffin said. “Imagine—being in Persia. Did you work alone?”
“I worked with teams, but occasionally I had to travel by myself.”
“Weren’t you frightened?” asked Mrs. Birley.
“Yes, at times, but I had my revolver with me.”
“You carry a gun?” Mr. Birley asked, surprised.
Mona changed the conversation. “I’m afraid I am hogging the conversation as we say in Kentucky. I’d like to hear about you or anything about this castle.”
A loud slam caused everyone to jump.
“What was that?” Mrs. Birley asked, standing next to Mrs. Dewsbury.
“It sounded like the front entrance in the grand hall, but I locked it tight,” Mrs. Boffin said.
“Let’s see if it is,” Mona said, leading the group from the library. The lights flickered causing Mona concern. What would happen if the electricity went out?
“Let me lead the way. I know this house like the back of my hand,” Mrs. Boffin said, pushing past Mona.
The group followed Mrs. Boffin through several rooms into the grand hall where the two doors for the entrance were blown open with one hanging off its hinges. There in the windswept room lay a man prone on the floor. Mr. Birley rushed over to the man and turned him over.
“Who is he?” asked Mrs. Birley, clinging to Mrs. Dewsbury.
Stunned, Mrs. Boffin squeaked, “He’s Charles Zelly, Lady Eustacia’s solicitor.”
“Help me take off his wet overcoat,” Mona said, pulling back her hand covered in blood. “Oh, my goodness! This man is injured!”
Mrs. Birley screamed and ran upstairs to her room with Mrs. Dewsbury following her.
Mona and Mrs. Boffin checked the solicitor for wounds while Mr. Peregrine went for a phone, knowing one was in the library.
“Your Grace, Mr. Zelly has a deep wound on the back of his head. He needs serious medical attention. This goes beyond my expertise,” Mrs. Boffin claimed.
“Let’s do what we can,” Mona said, looking for something to staunch the man’s head wound.
Zelly shuddered as his face went slack. Mona looked on as Mrs. Boffin felt for a pulse.
“Is he?”
Knowing a death rattle when she heard one, Mrs. Boffin closed Mr. Zelly’s eyes. “Yes, Your Grace. Mr. Zelly is gone.”
Mona felt for a pulse on Mr. Zelly’s wrist. “I concur. I’m not getting a pulse either. This is horrible.”
The vicar came back looking grim while Mrs. Boffin gathered a cloth from the butler’s pantry to cover the man.
Meanwhile, Mr. Birley rushed to the kitchen for help.
Noticing Mr. Peregrine’s severe face, Mona asked, “Did you get hold of the doctor?”
Mr. Peregrine hesitated before he spoke. “I couldn’t, Your Grace. You see—the line is dead. We are cut off from the rest of the world.”
Mona couldn’t suppress fear running up her spine, feeling like a spike of electricity.
As if the house knew Mona’s thoughts, the lights flickered.
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Murder Under A Cold Moon: A 1930s Mona Moon Historical Cozy Mystery by Abigail Keam
About Murder Under A Cold Moon
Historical Cozy Mystery 13th in Series
Setting - At Blackhaven Hall in England
Publisher: Worker Bee Press (September 30, 2024)
Number of Pages - 230
Mona Moon and her new husband, Robert Farley, Duke of Brynelleth are on their honeymoon at last. They are invited to a weekend party by an old friend of Robert’s family—Lady Eustacia. Mona and Robert arrive in a substantial downpour to find several other couples awaiting the appearance of their hostess.
When Lady Eustacia fails to come downstairs, Mona and Robert search the manor house only to find the lady missing. It is then they discover the telephone wires have been cut and none of the cars are able to drive into town due to the storm. Mona and Robert believe the invitation was a ruse, but for what purpose? And how do they help Lady Eustacia?
About Abigail Keam
Award-winning author Abigail Keam writes the Mona Moon Mystery Series—a rags-to-riches 1930s mystery series, which weaves real people and events into the story line. “I am a student of history and love to insert historical information into my mysteries. There is an addendum at the end of the mystery to give more information. My goal is to entertain my readers, but if they learn a little something along the way—well, then we are both happy.”
Miss Abigail currently lives on the Palisades bordering the Kentucky River in a metal house with her husband and various critters.
AWARDS 2010 Gold Medal Award from Readers' Favorite for Death By A HoneyBee 2011 Gold Medal Award from Readers' Favorite for Death By Drowning 2011 USA BOOK NEWS-Best Books List of 2011 as a Finalist for Death By Drowning 2011 USA BOOK NEWS-Best Books List of 2011 as a Finalist for Death By A HoneyBee 2017 Finalist from Readers' Favorite for Death By Design 2019 Honorable Mention from Readers' Favorite for Death By Stalking 2019 Murder Under A Blue Moon voted top ten mystery reads by Kings River Life Magazine 2020 Finalist from Readers' Favorite for Murder Under A Blue Moon 2020 Imadjinn Award for Best Mystery for Death By Stalking 2022 Finalist in Killer Nashville Silver Falchion Finalist for Best Historical Category - Murder Under A Full Moon 2022 Finalist the Killer Nashville Silver Falchion Award for Best Historical Category - Murder Under A New Moon 2022 Death By Chance: A Josiah Reynolds Mystery Killer Nashville Silver Falchion Finalist for Best Cozy Mystery 2022 Top Ten Mystery Novel by Kings River Life Magazine for Murder Under A Bridal Moon: A 1930s Mona Moon Mystery 2022 Top Ten Mystery Novel by Kings River Life Magazine for Murder Under A British Moon: A 1930s Mona Moon Mystery Mona Moon Series Murder Under A Blue Moon Murder Under A Blood Moon Murder Under A Bad Moon Murder Under A Silver Moon Murder Under A Wolf Moon Murder Under A Black Moon Murder Under A Full Moon Murder Under A New Moon Murder Under A British Moon Murder Under A Bridal Moon Murder Under A Western Moon Murder Under A Honey Moon Murder Under A Cold Moon Murder Under A Mystic Moon
Author Links:
Website https://www.abigailkeam.com/
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I liked the excerpt.
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