The corners of Hem’s mouth dipped down as he turned to Jane. “Do all the guests write love poetry?”
“No. They write all kinds of poems. A few are working on novels written entirely in verse, some are songwriters, and others write free-verse poems about everything and anything. Most of them are interested in writing short poems for greeting cards.” She smiled at her sons. “You might not know it, but you’ve created poetry. Think of how many verses you’ve come up with about Broken Arm Bend. And that jingle you’re working on for your jam business? That rhymes too. Songwriting is a close cousin to poetry.”
“Maybe that’s why I like hip-hop. Remember that song I played for you the last time we slept over?” Fitz directed his question at Aunt Octavia. To Jane’s utter astonishment, Aunt Octavia replied, “The one from A Tribe Called Quest? I most certainly do. Such clever wordplay.”
“Was I there?” asked Uncle Aloysius. “I don’t remember.” Seeing his confused expression, Aunt Octavia patted his hand and told him that he’d probably been in his study. “I ran into two of the poets in the garden. We had a nice chat about nature and Whitman. I showed them one of his poems and told them we’d named our spa after him. We spoke all the way—” After a pause, he said, “I don’t remember where I was headed, but it doesn’t matter.”
Jane and Aunt Octavia exchanged worried glances. Uncle Aloysius had been more forgetful as of late. He’d even gone fishing without his beloved hat. Her uncle was never without his fishing hat, much to Aunt Octavia’s consternation, and when Jane drove down to the lake to return it to him, he touched the top of his head, clearly confounded to find that he wasn’t already wearing it.
After the poets are gone, I should talk to Aunt Octavia about this. Doc Lydgate could pop over—just to be sure Uncle Aloysius is okay. Hem gulped down the rest of his cider and swiped his napkin across his mouth. “Can we go back to the kitchens? Mrs. Hubbard needs more cucumbers for the dinner service.” As soon as Jane excused the twins, they leapt from the terrace with the nimbleness of two jungle cats and trotted down the path leading to the kitchens.
Once they were out of sight, she turned back to Aunt Octavia and said, “I have news.” “Oh?” “Tobias was working the deli counter at the Pickled Pig this morning,” Jane said, referring to the village grocery store. “I’ve never seen a man slice salami with such gusto, but he has every reason to be happy.”
Aunt Octavia leaned forward in her chair. “Does this have anything to do with his children’s book?”
“In a way. His book launch is scheduled for the second Friday in September, but it doesn’t look like he’ll be able to have it at Run for Cover.”
“Why ever not? What better place for a book launch than a bookstore?” Jane grinned. “Because people have been calling Eloise for days, asking to buy tickets for the event.”
“I didn’t realize we needed a ticket to attend Mr. Hogg’s book launch. Such things should be free to the public. We wouldn’t want to discourage future readers,” Aunt Octavia grumbled. “Neither does Eloise. She’d never dream of selling tickets, but apparently, Tobias has become a legitimate celebrity. No, not Tobias. Pig Newton is the celebrity. Hundreds of thousands of people follow him on social media. And now, thanks to the publicity, The Near-Sighted Pig has had so many preorders that it’s already hit several bestseller lists.
“I wonder if he’ll retire from the grocery business,” Aunt Octavia mused.
“You can ask him at his book launch, seeing as it’ll be taking place in Shakespeare’s Theater. The Storyton Players are going to perform a puppet show, Mrs. Hubbard will whip up a few hundred pig cookies, and Eloise will handle the book sales.” Aunt Octavia glanced around. “I love it when we host creative types. At the moment, Storyton Hall is full of poets. I see them scribbling away in the reading rooms and the Henry James Library. I see them in the Anne of Green Gables Gazebo, the dining rooms, and the lobby. I don’t think we’ve ever had such an industrious group of guests before. I can practically feel their energy. It’s electric!...
~~~
Scheduled at the Hall was a contest for poets, the prize would be the chance to create poetry for a new card company for all daily possibilities, called Current Mood Card Company. The selected individual would have to be able to create poetry for any given event or circumstance and provide complementary art work...
Many of the writers came for the fun of entering a contest; however, there were a number of those who were seriously looking to get the job...It wasn't surprising that a number of students who were majoring in literature would be interested. But it was surprising that one of those students was found dead!
Gretchen had been a recluse and hadn't participated much in all of the added fun events. Still when she was found sitting in a boat in the nearby lake, it was not only shocking for a visitor to die during a conference, but it was clear that she had purposely been posed... And that the pose clearly represented a historical poetry character. The Lady of Shalott...
I decided to use both the speaking and musical rendition of the poem... I loved the music, but the words were more clearly shared in the speaking... Hope you enjoy them both, as I did!
During the investigation, readers have the opportunity to explore not only the many rooms and grounds available, but even to discover that there were secret passages within the Hall. Each of the characters from town add a definite charm to the story as they are so supportive of Jane, the Inn Guardian as well as their book club leader. Sigh, I wish there was a book club somewhere near me!
Part of the immediate family is Jane's aunt and uncle, who were the preceding guardians, as well as several men who both handle routine jobs such as a librarian as well as extra security... So, why is extra security needed?
Shhhh, don't tell anybody, but the Hall is a secret depository for many ancient books, manuscripts and more and are guarded at all times. Some of these have begun to be sold, but there still remain things like early drafts of poetry by famous Americans... Readers get to sit in with a book club meeting where each of the members chose a favorite poem to share... Here's a couple of those selections!
And while they were discussing their poems and books to be considered for the future, and began to leave, Jane immediately started to help clean up, and spied a loose piece of paper, with writing...and a sketch of a Victorian funeral hearse.
Below the image were a few lines of poetry.
There is a silence where no sound may be,
In the cold grave—under the deep deep sea.
And on the back
Tell no one, or I’ll silence you forever.
Dread filled Jane--not again she thought... For this wasn't the first time that somebody had been found dead at the Hall. Indeed they even had a code to announce it to staff. And when she showed it to a staff member, quickly learned that the lines were from a poem called "Silence" by Thomas Hood. Surely it had been accidentally dropped in the lobby...but was it dropped from who received it, or who had written it--because it clearly was a threat! And they stood there reciting the words about Lady Shalott...
And the Sheriff hadn't even arrived yet!
Gretchen West was a medical librarian and as they began to gather personal information about her, they learned that she might have been considered as the top contender for the prize--the job... So naturally, they started looking toward the poetry submissions from the remainder of the contestants and learned that there were two other students who had been in class together were also attending... And while the poets were writing, another body was found, this time floating in a construction ditch that had filled from the heavy rain. But flowers had been tossed around the body that was facing down... Ophelia? Could it be?
Ophelia Roses
Out of the dawn
Trembling with moon-mist
The glow of a sun-gold rose!
Wild as a wood-bird note
Fragrant as crush-red wine.
Ophelia
I
On the calm black water where the stars are sleeping
White Ophelia floats like a great lily;
Floats very slowly, lying in her long veils…
- In the far-off woods you can hear them sound the mort.
For more than a thousand years sad Ophelia
Has passed, a white phantom, down the long black river.
For more than a thousand years her sweet madness
Has murmured its ballad to the evening breeze.
The wind kisses her breasts and unfolds in a wreath
Her great veils rising and falling with the waters;
The shivering willows weep on her shoulder,
The rushes lean over her wide, dreaming brow.
The ruffled water-lilies are sighing around her ;
At times she rouses, in a slumbering alder,
Some nest from which escapes a small rustle of wings;
- A mysterious anthem falls from the golden stars.
II
O pale Ophelia! beautiful as snow!
Yes child, you died, carried off by a river!
- It was the winds descending from the great mountains of Norway
That spoke to you in low voices of better freedom.
It was a breath of wind, that, twisting your great hair,
Brought strange rumors to your dreaming mind;
It was your heart listening to the song of Nature
In the groans of the tree and the sighs of the nights;
It was the voice of mad seas, the great roar,
That shattered your child's heart, too human and too soft;
It was a handsome pale knight, a poor madman
Who one April morning sate mute at your knees!
Heaven! Love! Freedom! What a dream, oh poor crazed Girl!
You melted to him as snow does to a fire;
Your great visions strangled your words
- And fearful Infinity terrified your blue eye!
III
- And the poet says that by starlight
You come seeking, in the night, the flowers that you picked
And that he has seen on the water, lying in her long veils
White Ophelia floating, like a great lily.
~~~
And it was only by an accidental confrontation by Jane that the identity of the killer was finally exposed!
Obviously, there are many to be interviewed, with an entire group of poets vying for the same prize, but the staging didn't seem to be a part of a run against another for envy or jealousy... Surely, something special had been planned...but...Why?
Well, this book is part of a series. I now have the entire series because of just how fantastic this writer has made it for we who are avid readers. She knows what we want to have happen and goes about creating the atmosphere of tension, confusion, and frustration that keeps us guessing, but with no real ability to even hazard close guesses... My kind of book of course! OK, there is a cat on the cover and even appears in the book...but was so minor I wouldn't have mentioned it, if the black cat had not been on the cover...which, I admit was the reason I took a second look...LOL But, my love of all things books was the key for this wholehearted recommendation!
And when you see something on the next book, you can bet I needed to get away from seeing so many lies in political ads on TV and just needed to fall deep into an excellent mystery! Or I could wait until after election and binge on the entire series, which sounds like FUN! So, check it out--be prepared!
God Bless
Gabbie
Vote for Freedom
Vote for Truth
Plan Your Vote Today!
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