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We’re time traveling today back to 1958. We’re driving cars like the brand new Chevy Impala and listening to Tequila, Catch a Falling Star and Purple People Eater on the radio. We love that button down shirtwaist dress with a full skirt as we dab on a little Chanel on our wrists. Let’s join Izzy at the supper club with her best girlfriends, but don’t get too much into the glamour, darling. There’s going to be a murder.
About the Book
When Izzy gets a killer dress for her birthday, she isn’t expecting to accessorize it with murder…
It’s 1958 in the cozy coastal town of Twin Oaks and amateur sleuth Isabelle (Izzy) Walsh is armed with a fresh perspective, four years after tragedy strikes. The first stop on her journey back to joy is the best little dress shop in town—introduced to her by best friend and fashion fiend, Ava Russell. Izzy falls in love with the store and its style. So when the boutique is marred by murder, Izzy wants to help. But with more suspects to choose from than a spring collection, she isn’t sure where to start.
Can Izzy unravel the twisted truth or will she become the victim of a deadly trend?
I arrived at six o’clock. The Mariner’s Whisper was the best dinner club in town. I could feel the energy wafting through the door as I approached, with upbeat jazz music setting the tone, and Clifford Brown’s trumpet adding a little sass to my step. I peered over the crowd waiting to be seated and saw that Ava, Mary, and Jo were already here. I didn’t wait for an escort, making my way to our regular table, available to us whenever we dined there, as long as we gave a little notice.
When the head chef was murdered a few years earlier, the four of us helped the police solve the case. The standing reservation was a way to say thank you. It was the best seat in the house, located on the raised level that gave a panoramic overview of the whole restaurant. Needless to say, it inspired us to come back regularly. Since it was my birthday, we’d agreed to make a night of it. I could see as I approached that the tone had already been set with dimmed candles sitting in the middle of the table, and lovely smiles all around. I grinned in anticipation of the night ahead and opened my arms to virtually embrace my three best friends, each looking her best.
Before I was close enough to voice a hello, an unexpected sound grabbed my attention from a nearby table. It was a gasp. I wouldn’t have paused my intended path had the woman who uttered the sound not looked so terrified. I turned to see where her attention was focused. A jolt shot up my body and my hands shot up to cover my mouth. All thoughts of my birthday were abandoned as I rushed back to help Walter Wiggins, who’d just stumbled into the restaurant, screaming for help. By the time I reached him, the band had stopped playing. His loud cries were the only sound now detectable as people instinctively backed away silently, the lifeless body of Barbara draped across his arms, covered in blood.
Walter was shaking from head-to-toe. A sense of determined calm kicked in as I locked eyes with him momentarily and I recognized his raw fear and panic. I leaned in and gently cradled my hand under Barbara’s neck. Her eyes were closed but there was a welt near the back of her head, seeping blood.
I tried to guide Walter’s attention by pressing on his shoulder firmly. “Walter, Walter, do you remember me? I’m Isabelle Walsh. I need you to gently and carefully lie Barbara down.”
Although he failed to respond verbally, he did his best to follow my instructions. He bent down on one knee and laid her across the floor. I crouched down on the other side and swept matted hair off her face. I looked up and saw the restaurant owner, Harriet Smith, standing nearby. I was relieved to see her pale yet calm face. Her attention was focused on me. “Harriet, I need you to see if there is a doctor here.”
She turned around and called out for a doctor or a medic. A man near the back of the restaurant stood up, raising his hand. She requested his presence, and he made his way over, obviously unaware of what had happened until he was almost on top of us. As he did so, Harriet instructed a nearby waiter to call the police.
The doctor told everyone to back up and give him space. I gently pulled Walter to his feet as the doctor knelt down to examine his unexpected patient. A basic check of Harriet’s vitals told him what he needed to know. He looked up at me, his lips pressed tightly together, and shook his head back and forth. He confirmed what I already knew. Barbara Wiggins was dead.
Find The Girls Dressed for Murder Here!
About the Author
Lynn McPherson has had a myriad of jobs, from running a small business to teaching English across the globe. She has travelled the world solo, where her daring spirit has led her to jump out of airplanes, dive with sharks, and learn she would never master a surfboard. Lynn served on the Board of Directors for Crime Writers of Canada from 2019-2021. She is a member of Sisters in Crime and International Thriller Writers,
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