Chesapeake Crimes: Invitation to Murder. Donna Andrews

than it takes a glass to shatter.

      William Faulkner wrote, “The past is never dead. It’s not even past.” This is especially true of three of the stories: “The Color of Envy” is a cautionary story of greed and science (or is it magic?) in the old South. “Aumakua” combines family traditions, local legends, and Hawaiian history, with a treasure at stake. And in “True Colors,” a woman prominent in Washington, DC’s, highest circles must take action when her wild past catches up with her—from beyond the grave.

      But never mind all my warnings. I cordially invite you to step into this literary parlor and help yourself to these seventeen deadly little morsels.

      Dana Cameron writes across many genres, but especially crime and speculative fiction. Her work, inspired by her career in archaeology, has won multiple Anthony, Agatha, and Macavity Awards, and has been nominated for the Edgar Award. Dana’s Emma Fielding archaeology mysteries were optioned by Muse Entertainment; the third movie, based on More Bitter than Death, premiered on the Hallmark Movies & Mysteries channel in January, 2019. When she’s not traveling or visiting museums, she’s usually yelling at the TV about historical inaccuracies. http://www.danacameron.com

THE DAME AND THADDEUS BIRDWHISTLE, by Karen Cantwell

      Amelia Birdwhistle rarely regretted her quiet life in Back Bay as wife and mother. The job, while lacking sparkle and excitement, did provide comfort and stability. She never wanted for anything, really.

      She had married Angus Birdwhistle in the spring of 1945 and their son, Thaddeus, was born the following year. He brought great joy to their lives. Although only six years old, Thaddeus was notably precocious. He read newspapers with a voracious appetite, and he followed the stock market religiously. His favorite playwright was William Shakespeare. At night, before retiring to bed, he would stand on a small stage and recite soliloquies from Hamlet or Macbeth or Othello. But not from Romeo and Juliet. He actually did not care much for that one.

      Ah, yes, Amelia and Angus Birdwhistle were most proud of their gifted young son. What parent wouldn’t be?

      So imagine their surprise when Thaddeus appeared at the breakfast table one bright Sunday morning, hair uncombed, shirt misbuttoned and untucked, and his usual smile replaced by a scowl.

      He crumpled into a chair, rubbing his bloodshot eyes. “Lady, pour me a cup o’ joe, would ya? I was up until dawn with a dish in a dive.”

      Amelia spilled her tea.

      Angus lowered a corner of his newspaper to see what alliterating hooligan had stolen into their home an hour before church. When he saw the hooligan was his own son, he raised an eyebrow.

      Thaddeus’s coarse tone had Amelia perplexed. He had always been such a pleasant and well-behaved boy. Even at two years old, when other children were being terrible, Thaddeus was agreeable, never arguing when it was time to practice piano or his times tables.

      Amelia felt her son’s forehead. “Are you feeling all right, Teddy?”

      Thaddeus placed a book on the table. “Listen, precious, I’ve got a lot on my mind. Mac’s lookin’ for a dame, and I don’t know how he’s gonna find her.”

      Angus looked from his son to the book and then to his wife. “He has picked up the vernacular and attitude of those blasted dime novels Mary gave him. What was she thinking?” He shook a finger at his son. “Thaddeus Birdwhistle, you will address your mother with respect and enunciate clearly at all times in this house.”

      “Please don’t yell at the boy,” Amelia said. “Angus, dear, I’ve been schooling myself on the nuances of raising a genius child. Let me handle this.” She sat at the table near her son. “Tell me, Teddy, what exactly is a ‘dish in a dive’?”

      “Amelia!” Angus scolded.

      “The experts say to encourage creative play,” she told Angus. “Watch and learn.”

      Thaddeus shook his head. “A dish is a broad, a lady, but you know, not a fancy lady. And a dive is, I don’t know, a joint, a place with cheap drinks and greasy food, and tunes playin’ on the juke. Not a place for the likes of you, I’m pretty sure.”

      Angus huffed and returned to his newspaper.

      “That is very interesting,” Amelia said, lifting the small paperback book from the table. The cover was slightly tattered. Their maid, Mary, had found several of them in a bin at a yard sale. Four for fifteen cents. She thought Thaddeus would enjoy them, which he did, immensely, much to Angus’s dismay. Amelia read the title of this one aloud. “Invitation to Murder, a Mac Hardcase Mystery. Did you learn those words in this book?”

      “I’m not readin’ that one. I’m writin’ it.”

      The crude diction bothered Amelia greatly, but intent on encouraging creativity, she did not correct him. She flipped through the pages to discover they were mostly blank with the exception of Thaddeus’s pencil longhand on the first few. “This book was blank when Mary gave it to you?”

      “That’s what I’m sayin’. So I’m writin’ Mac’s next case.” He snatched it from her hands. “But I’m not ready for you to read it yet. Don’t need the slam to muddle me up.”

      Amelia was desperate to help her son in this obvious hour of need, but his new lexicon confused her. “Slam?”

      “Play it like a zapper,” Thaddeus said. “You know, throw me a bad review.”

      “Goodness, Teddy, I would never criticize your artistic endeavors. But if you like, you can tell me about your story as written thus far. Paraphrase for me.”

      Thaddeus straightened some in his chair. “Sure. I can do that. Chapter one, Mac gets a call late at night from his buddy Jimmy Jiggs. Jimmy can’t talk on the phone—he wants to meet Mac in person right away.”

      “Why?” Amelia asked.

      “No reason given,” Thaddeus said. “Jimmy doesn’t always run the straight and narrow, but they’ve been pals since primary school, so Mac doesn’t question. They’re supposed to meet at a joint on Main, only Mac hears two gunshots, boom, boom, comin’ from an alley when he’s just a block away. Mac has a bad feelin’ it’s Jimmy. He hoofs it to the alley, and finds Jimmy on the ground. Croaked. Lethal dose of lead in his chest. The killer’s long gone.”

      “My,” Amelia said. “Poor Jimmy Jiggs.”

      Angus huffed again from behind his paper, this time with a bit more force.

      “Is there more?” Amelia asked.

      Thaddeus nodded. “Chapter two: Mac can’t let the coppers know he’s there—it’d be bad for business, so he slips into a dive to wait it out. While dippin’ his bill, he finds out from a dish at the bar that Jimmy’s been seein’ a dame by the name of Ziva. The word is she’s champagne and caviar—a high-class sort. But Jimmy is beer and nuts. For Mac, this doesn’t add up, so he wants to find this dame. Put the screws to her. See if she’s the reason Jimmy got bumped.”

      Amelia applauded. “That is a thrilling story, Teddy. A bit crude, but captivating. Ziva is a daring and imaginative name. Maybe we should enroll him in creative-writing classes, Angus.”

      Thaddeus rubbed his temples. “Suddenly I’m not feelin’ so good.”

      “You are not the only one, sir,” Angus muttered.

      “Well it isn’t long until church, and we must attend since Daddy and I are ushers. So upstairs you go to dress, little man. Possibly try splashing some water on your face first.”

      “I certainly don’t like being bossed around by a skirt, but water on my face sounds like a good idea right about now.”

      Amelia laughed, albeit with a hint of discomfort. “Thank you for sharing.