A deadly secret is tangled up in Yesterday’s Threads, and Anna is racing the clock to get it unraveled.
In 1859, Elisabeth Margaret Nelson traveled to Crocker, Indiana to meet her new husband and start a new life. Her family never saw her again. The story of her death and a heartbroken husband who grieves his entire life is a sad tale for sure. But is it true?
When Anna Yesterday receives some vintage dresses from the local
museum, she’s excited about highlighting them at Crocker’s annual Apple
Blossom Festival. But someone wants the dresses back, and they’ll
apparently stop at nothing to get them—leaving a trail of murder and
destruction in their wake.
As Anna and Pratt work to uncover the deadly intrigue behind the
vintage dresses, interference of another kind is working its way to the
surface. All too soon, Anna and Pratt find themselves neck deep in
trouble from more than one dimension—and wondering which will get them
first!
She pulled into the lot at the museum and parked next to a small,
low-slung car with two doors. Anna was pretty sure she’d seen Mindy
tooling around town in the sexy little black sports car. Which meant
that, if her car was still there, Mindy hadn’t left the museum. Anna
reached over to the passenger seat of her own Smart car and extracted
the dress bags. She started toward the museum’s front door, clicking
the doors locked on her car as she walked away.
Traffic moved along the streets in the distance, but the part of Crocker where the Bickershaw Museum stood was quiet. All the shops and businesses around the place were closed for the night, their owners gone home to dinner.
The early Spring weather had grown steadily cooler as the day had progressed, and the cooler air touching the heated asphalt had created a haze along the ground, which felt eerie when mixed with the unnatural silence.
Anna moved more quickly toward the hulking frame of the building, the bags in her arms sliding against each other, in danger of slipping from her grip. She stopped once to adjust the load in her arms and heard the soft snick of something coming from around back of the museum. It sounded like a door closing.
Traffic moved along the streets in the distance, but the part of Crocker where the Bickershaw Museum stood was quiet. All the shops and businesses around the place were closed for the night, their owners gone home to dinner.
The early Spring weather had grown steadily cooler as the day had progressed, and the cooler air touching the heated asphalt had created a haze along the ground, which felt eerie when mixed with the unnatural silence.
Anna moved more quickly toward the hulking frame of the building, the bags in her arms sliding against each other, in danger of slipping from her grip. She stopped once to adjust the load in her arms and heard the soft snick of something coming from around back of the museum. It sounded like a door closing.
Anna waited, listening for Mindy to come around the building,
heading toward her car. No footsteps sounded on the concrete sidewalk
leading around back and no other sounds lifted up from the haze. The
night fell back into unnatural silence.
Anna started walking again, her gaze sliding over the façade of the big building. The windows along the front seemed to glare at her, their rippled, old glass capturing the light from the parking lot in uneven ribbons that segmented the glass.
She shivered as a moist breeze slipped through the trees. The softly rustling leaves sounded like whispers to her overactive imagination. Anna shook off her fears and started up the staircase.
Something flared inside the house, bright and quick like the flash of a match. She stopped, peered through the eye-level window, and saw nothing. Thinking it must have just been the play of distant headlights over the glass, she started up again.
The front door was locked so she pounded, calling Mindy’s name. No one came. Anna bit her lip, trying to decide what to do. She reshuffled the dresses and started back down the stairs, deciding to try around back. Maybe the sound she’d heard had been Mindy going back into the building from an errand or something.
She hurried back down the stairs and followed the sidewalk to a small, unobtrusive wooden door at the back, lower corner. She figured the door would have been for servants in the original use of the house. Now she was hoping it led to the work area of the museum, where she assumed they kept the items in need of repair or storage.
Anna tried the knob and was relieved to find it unlocked. She stepped inside, further comforted to see the space was softly lit. “Mindy? It’s Anna Yesterday. Are you here?”
Silence met her query, only the soft drip, drip, drip of a leaky faucet breaking the stillness. “Mindy?” She started forward, walking toward the warm, yellow glow of light spilling from a doorway across the room.
As she neared the door, someone moaned. Anna slammed to a halt. She waited, listening. Another long, drawn-out moan brought the small hairs up on Anna’s neck. “Mindy?”
She moved reluctantly forward, stopping in the doorway of the lighted room. It sounded as if someone was hurt. The room was lined in aromatic, cedar planking and filled with clothing racks that held bag after bag of what Anna assumed was vintage clothing—no doubt Lissie and Felix Bickershaw’s clothing. Several of the bags were unzipped and dresses in all colors and fabrics spilled from the plastic, their hems looking more ragged than they should.
Another moan had Anna spinning on her heel and she found Mindy lying on the floor in a pool of blood, a large pair of black-handled scissors protruding from her chest.
Anna started walking again, her gaze sliding over the façade of the big building. The windows along the front seemed to glare at her, their rippled, old glass capturing the light from the parking lot in uneven ribbons that segmented the glass.
She shivered as a moist breeze slipped through the trees. The softly rustling leaves sounded like whispers to her overactive imagination. Anna shook off her fears and started up the staircase.
Something flared inside the house, bright and quick like the flash of a match. She stopped, peered through the eye-level window, and saw nothing. Thinking it must have just been the play of distant headlights over the glass, she started up again.
The front door was locked so she pounded, calling Mindy’s name. No one came. Anna bit her lip, trying to decide what to do. She reshuffled the dresses and started back down the stairs, deciding to try around back. Maybe the sound she’d heard had been Mindy going back into the building from an errand or something.
She hurried back down the stairs and followed the sidewalk to a small, unobtrusive wooden door at the back, lower corner. She figured the door would have been for servants in the original use of the house. Now she was hoping it led to the work area of the museum, where she assumed they kept the items in need of repair or storage.
Anna tried the knob and was relieved to find it unlocked. She stepped inside, further comforted to see the space was softly lit. “Mindy? It’s Anna Yesterday. Are you here?”
Silence met her query, only the soft drip, drip, drip of a leaky faucet breaking the stillness. “Mindy?” She started forward, walking toward the warm, yellow glow of light spilling from a doorway across the room.
As she neared the door, someone moaned. Anna slammed to a halt. She waited, listening. Another long, drawn-out moan brought the small hairs up on Anna’s neck. “Mindy?”
She moved reluctantly forward, stopping in the doorway of the lighted room. It sounded as if someone was hurt. The room was lined in aromatic, cedar planking and filled with clothing racks that held bag after bag of what Anna assumed was vintage clothing—no doubt Lissie and Felix Bickershaw’s clothing. Several of the bags were unzipped and dresses in all colors and fabrics spilled from the plastic, their hems looking more ragged than they should.
Another moan had Anna spinning on her heel and she found Mindy lying on the floor in a pool of blood, a large pair of black-handled scissors protruding from her chest.
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About Sam Cheever:
Award winning author Sam Cheever mixes in a little fun, a little magic, and a little real-life spice to create her sexy fictional characters. Sam’s fun-loving creations fight their way through a dizzying array of dangerous challenges without letting little things like dangerous bad guys, angry, manipulative gods, evil dark world denizens, or killing Furies dampen their zest for life and hot love!
In her real life, Sam lives on a hobby farm in Indiana with 11 dogs, 2
horses, 1 barn cat, and one husband. Not necessarily in that order.
When asked why, why, why on the 11 dogs (yes, they all live in the
house!), Sam simply shrugs and says she’s stupid. But what she really
means to say is that she’s a dog-aholic. She of course can’t be blamed
for her addiction. She is a victim. And along those lines, if anyone
knows of a support group for this addiction please write Sam at
samcheever@samcheever.com and fill her in.
Connect with Sam Cheever:
Join Sam Cheever on tour:
June 24, 2013 - Chloe Gets a Clue
June 25, 2013 – Michelle’s Romantic Tangle
June 27, 2013 - Melissa’s Mochas, Mysteries & More
June 28, 2013 – A Chick Who Reads
June 30, 2013 - Cozy Up with Kathy
July 1, 2013 - Kaisy Daisy’s Corner
July 2, 2013 - Kate Shannon
July 5, 2013 - The Self Taught Cook
July 6, 2013 – The Bookish Owl
July 7, 2013 – The Bookish Owl
Reader review . . .
Newlywed Elisabeth Nelson journeyed to Crocker, Indiana alone in 1859 to reunite with her husband. After disembarking from the stagecoach, the new bride was never seen again. Her family's suspicion of her husband continued through the generations without proof.
Present-day: Anna Yesterday was excited when the museum sold her shop some beautiful vintage dresses. But someone wants those dresses and will do anything to get them.
This second installment in the series continues with Anna and Pratt exploring their blossoming relationship. I was happy to see Pratt's back story, and it wasn't what I expected. Joss's disappearance was interesting, and the interplay between Pratt and Bess was fun to watch. I must admit to a giggle at the idea of a character named Morticia, though.
Another fun trip to the antique store in Crocker......
4.5 stars
I received this book from Cozy Mystery Book Tours in exchange for an honest review. All opinions expressed are my own.
2 comments:
Thanks for letting me crash your blog!
Any time! I really had fun reading your books!
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