Love, Love, LOVE Angie Fox's Latest SECRETS, LIES AND FIREFLIES - Celebrating Women's Suffrage During Women's History Month!

 

“You have no idea the lengths some women will go

 to in order to give up their power...”

Didi planted her hands on her hips. “So it’s a peach operation that hides the suffragette operation.” “It sure looks that way.” “Hidden in Grandma Rose’s garden.” I had to hand it to Rose. “It would be the perfect cover for secret meetings.” “Nobody would think to look down here,” Didi said as the double doors overhead flew open on the ghostly side. A hook-nosed ghost above us let out a cry, dropping her basket of fruit. Didi zipped out of the way. I wasn’t as quick and caught a silvery peach to the shoulder. The icy wetness of the other side seared me. “Ow!” I cried as it plowed straight through me and rolled across the cave floor. The hook-nosed woman appeared directly between us. She wore men’s work gloves and an apron smeared with dirt. “What are you doing in my storage room?” “Madge let us in,” I said, rubbing my shoulder. “We’re looking for the lock that fits this key.” She studied the key I held up. “You won’t find it here,” she said grimly. “Then do you know where?” Didi pressed. Her lips thinned. “That’s not for me to say.” “They’re with Rose,” Madge said, shimmering into existence next to me. “I’ve been keeping an eye on them.” 

The ghost looked us up and down. “They’re not even wearing corsets.” “It’s a new day,” Didi told her. She frowned at that. “I say we leave this up to Liberty Brown. If she wants these ladies involved, she’ll tell them what to do.” “Liberty Brown?” I’d never heard of her. “She’ll be at the meeting,” Madge said. “You can wait with me.” “When does the meeting start?” Didi asked as Madge led us out of the storage cellar. “Ladies will be showing up any minute,” she assured us. “In fact, I hesitated to leave the meeting room, well, until you startled Viv.” “I think we all did our fair share of startling,” I said. “So what’s with all the peaches?” Didi asked. “I can understand meeting down here, but actually helping with the harvest?” “It’s…complicated,” Madge said, holding the curtain for us. “But you might as well help me peel a few while we wait for the meeting to start.” 

I fought off a cringe. “That might be difficult.” Objects on the ghostly plane felt like ice against my skin and fire in my veins. And anything I touched would vanish within minutes. But if we played our cards right, we could try to learn more from Madge. Didi seemed to be thinking the same thing. She commandeered an apron. I skipped that part and dredged up a rickety stool from the corner. It slanted sideways and looked like it’d crumble in a mild breeze, but it was the only seat I could find that wasn’t glowing gray. My rule when it came to the ghostly plane was definitely more of a look, don’t touch approach. The table appeared real enough despite the ghostly sheen. The peaches were on an entirely different plane. “Ready?” Madge said, placing a shimmering silver knife down onto the table next to me. “Sure,” I ventured. Oh, who was I kidding? I was never ready for this. The ghostly knife would be freezing cold. It would make my teeth chatter and my hand go numb. And if I dared touch it, we could kiss it goodbye. Same with the peaches. The basket. And while nuking all the unpeeled peaches would no doubt speed things along, I’d rather stay under the radar. Learn what we could. I made a show of flexing my fingers. Didi grabbed a knife and a peach. “So, seriously, why are we peeling fruit for the vote instead of marching or making ourselves heard?” She was right. I could think of a dozen more effective ways to be heard and inspire change. Madge wiped her hands on her apron before grabbing her knife. “Bake sales are important fundraisers.” Oh, come on. “You have to give us more than that.” “That’s it,” Madge said, not fooling anybody. “We’re in an underground cave,” I pointed out. “This isn’t a baking party. What are you really working on down here?” Madge stiffened. “We’ve been ordered to keep the fundraising going.” “With peaches?” Didi asked, slicing into her first one. “It’s no secret the movement is in danger.” And it was clear they weren’t telling us everything. She eyed me. “Keep at it, and Viv is going to kick you out.” “Let’s not get hasty,” I said as Didi placed a half-peeled peach in front of me. I could pretend it was mine. Madge dug into a peach with her knife. “Let’s be honest. I know everyone in Sugarland, and I don’t know you.” How strange to be on the other end of that one. 

“You should, right?” I agreed. “I mean, if you don’t go back five generations, are you really from Sugarland?” “I’d say the true test is whether you’ve put a raft down on Devil’s Bend,” Didi said. “Or gone to Roan’s for a hammer.” I nodded. They’d been in business since 1843. “Or stared up at Rockhill Mansion and wondered what the heck goes on up there,” Madge added. “It’s haunted, that’s what,” I told her. I’d solved the case. “I knew it!” Madge gushed. “If I’ve said it once, I’ve said it a million times.” She shook her head. “This is fun. I missed chatting. And working together,” she added, eyeing my knife on the table. “Do you really have to worry about spies?” Didi asked, while I wondered if I was brave enough to reach for the knife. At Madge’s raised brow, I did, gritting my teeth as I felt the bracing chill. I stabbed into the skin of the peach without picking it up. “Didi has a point,” I said to our host. “We’re women.” I ignored the goosebumps erupting on my arms. “Why wouldn’t we want the vote?” Madge cocked her head as she ran a knife around the peach, skinning it with swift strokes. “You have no idea the lengths some women will go to in order to give up their power.” She eyed me. “They leave chicken feet on my husband’s desk at work and call him henpecked.” She returned her attention to the peach. “They say he’s not a man because he stays home with the baby while I volunteer.” “My man takes care of my little Lucy while I work,” I said, flicking the peel and stabbing the peach before tossing it into the metal bowl. “Why shouldn’t your partner take care of his family? It’s what good men do.” Madge placed her peeled peach next to mine. “He has been quite wonderful. I’m lucky.” 

“You are,” Didi said. “My husband pretended he didn’t know how to work the washing machine. For fifty years.” Madge barked out a laugh. “Mine can take apart a carburetor but needs me to make his toast.” She pursed her lips. “Although I do cut it into hearts for him. He likes that.” “You’re lucky,” I said, making note to try the heart toast with Ellis. “Mine can’t cook to save his life. The bacon is either raw or burned to a crisp, but he keeps trying.” “Pretend you like it, and he’ll get better,” she said, placing another peach in front of me. “That’s been my plan now that my husband has been fixing dinner every night for the kids. He saves a plate for me.” She brought a hand to her head. “I’ve been gone so much.” “Doing important work,” I assured her. “It may not look like it, but it is,” she assured us. She flicked her knife toward the peach she’d laid out for me. “I already did one,” I said, looking to the metal bowl. The entire bowl had begun to fade. Oh no. It was disappearing! Fast. I hadn’t touched it. But I had touched my peach, which I’d tossed in with the other peaches, which set off a chain reaction of disaster. 

“What the—” Madge stood, her chair falling backward as the entire bowl evaporated. Oh my goodness. I stood quickly. “I’m so sorry.” She shrieked, pointing as my knife began to disappear from the table. “I’m sorry about that, too,” I cried. Viv dashed into the room. “What’s the matter?” 

“They’re—” Madge pointed at me. “I⁠—” “I’m alive.” There. I’d said it. “I messed up the peaches because I’m alive.” Viv rested a hand on her hip. “Of course you’re alive. Everyone is alive. And peaches don’t disappear.” “I saw them,” Madge said breathlessly, staring at the table. Didi placed her knife down and rose from the table. “What year do you think this is?” Viv rolled her eyes. “It’s 1919, of course.” They didn’t know they were dead. Or that I was alive. “And when is the meeting supposed to start?” I asked Madge. “Tell me. What date? What time?” She looked at me funny. “June 20th. Two o’clock.” “1919,” Didi finished. That poor woman really had been peeling peaches for a century. “I don’t think we can wait around anymore.” Liberty Brown wasn’t coming. Nobody was. These poor ghosts didn’t realize their time was long past. And if they hadn’t noticed by now, I wasn’t sure how to convince them. “Is Liberty the only person who can help us?” “The only one who’ll be at the meeting,” Madge maintained. “Rose and Hope were the only ones trusted with keys,” Viv said from the door. “Where is Hope?” Maybe we could track her down. 

“Hope died last week.” Madge’s voice broke. “She died in jail.” “How awful,” I said, rubbing my hands on my dress. They were still tingling. “They locked her up for disturbing the peace,” Viv said. “In truth, it was to scare us. To keep us from organizing.” “Or asking questions,” Madge added. “About what?” I asked. They both clammed up. Viv’s hands formed into fists. “Now Rose is locked in the same jail. I feel so awful for her. No one is allowed in, and she’s in the same cell where Hope died.” The musty air clung to my skin, and I could hear water dripping somewhere in the distance. 

I stood as primly as I could, fingering Grandma Rose’s filigree necklace. “I’m dating a police officer. I might be able to help.” Viv gritted her jaw. “We can’t trust the police.” Not again. Not in Sugarland. “Why would you say that?” Madge drew a hand to the button brooch at her throat. “Eleanor Blackwell has vanished. She’s slated to speak at the rally tomorrow. It’s crucial to our cause.” Didi crossed her arms. “When did she disappear?” “Two days ago,” Viv said. “She left the Sugarland Hotel after dinner. We thought she was coming straight here to the house, but she disappeared on the way. Several of our members went to the police, but they’ve done nothing.” “At least that’s kept it out of the papers,” Madge added. “If we have to cancel the rally, we’ll lose a lot of support.” For now. But I could offer some comfort. “The good news is I do believe it will all turn out in the end.” Viv scoffed. Madge’s cheeks flushed gray. “How can you say that?” she demanded. “Our vice president died in her jail cell. Our speaker has been kidnapped. Our president has been arrested. Our lawyer is trying to get her out, but she’s on a hunger strike. She could die in there, just like Hope.” “Grandma Rose will make it,” Didi murmured to me. “But at what cost?” From the way she’d treated Didi in the afterlife, it was safe to say Rose had been through a lot. Didi nodded. “Grandma Rose is alone in the world. Her husband, Grandpa Jack, died in 1915.” “We already lost Hope. If we lose Rose and Eleanor both, we’ll have no shot at the grand plan,” Viv added. “We’ll never stop, but that doesn’t mean we’ll succeed.” “Or live.” 

Madge wiped her eyes. “I’m so sorry.” I’d had no idea. And they might be more right than they knew, seeing as they were still trapped down here a century later. Didi had the same idea. “Hang tight and stay where you are. We’ll see what we can find out.” Would we? “If Rose is in jail, we can talk to her about the key,” Didi said. She was right. Even if Rose had moved on, Hope might still be haunting the place where she died. She’d be able to tell us about the key as well. Viv brought a hand to her head. “Rose is the one we trusted to keep the key safe.” “It’s safe,” I insisted. And soon we’d secure Rose’s legacy as well. “Which jail is she in?” The ghosts shared a meaningful look before Viv answered, “Occoquan Workhouse.” I nodded, committing the name to memory. I turned to leave, pausing at the curtain. “Stay here. Have your meeting. We’ll be back with news,” I promised, my voice barely audible as I ascended into the world above.

~~~

I've been a fan for Angie for many years (do a search in the right column to check out all the other books I've talked about!) but, Secrets, Lies, and Fireflies is, not only a personal favorite for 2025, but, in my opinion, is the best book she's written--so far! Let's face it, with all that politics is causing in America, we have all begun to question just how soon women will be next on the chopping block... After all the president has been indicted for sexual abuse of E. Jean Carroll...

DEI actions are so diverse in implementation that you cannot keep up...people are being fired, then have to file legal actions!!! Chaos from one man who has already shown he cares nothing about women (E. Jean is not the only individual who has attempted to sue the president), Social Security, and Medicaid...

I could have continued to illustrate what is presently happening, but I hope all of you already know of the catastrophic mess that Trump and MAGA is forcing on America citizens... Still, it needed to be illustrated because many people have gone through this type of discriminatory action before! This book takes us back to the historical story of what was happening as women were fighting to gain the right to vote--and if we don't stop this madness, that could be next by this misogynist... and white supremacist...

“Where is she?” He blazed toward the house. “Is she in there? She can’t hide from me.” At this rate, she might want to. I was no expert, but I had to assume hell hath no fury like a gangster in penny loafers. 

Fox takes readers on a very different direction in her latest, which had to be planned for Women's History Month! Kudos Angie! We still have our regular gangster ghost, Frankie, who is stuck on earth when his ashes was accidentally spilt... This time, it is the family who is spotlighted in both good and bad ways... You see, other than the main character and her sister, all the rest of the family are dead or ghosts...

It all began when a fire is started in the Sugarland Library! Where Melody was working! Verity, our main character, was already hurrying toward the library when she heard somebody shouting her name... Yes, she realized that it was indeed her grandmother, Didi, who was calling her. We learn later that she saw Verity talking with Frankie, a ghost, so she realized that Verity might be able to hear her. She had been sent to be with Melody as she died...but when she saw there might be a chance to help her, all plans were changed! Soon Verity was leaping past everybody and on her way to find her grandmother, who then showed her where Melody was... 

Melody was standing, staring into space. A child was still lost and Melody wouldn't leave until she found her... So all three women began searching and ultimately found and saved the little girl, as well as Melody...  But a strange thing happened on their way out, Didi saw a white scarf, went and grabbed it and gave it to Verity. At that time, Verity thought Didi wanted her to cover her mouth from the smoke...

What evolved from that was the finding of a key within that scarf which started a search for a lock it would fit!

By the way, before we go any further, you should be aware that Lucy had won an award at the Annual Pet Parade and Festival. Lucy, by the way, is a delightful character who happens to be a skunk and who is also very protective of her loved ones and actually catches the criminal--with her back feet... You really have to read it to understand...LOL

Once the fire was under control, Didi returned to her home... Yes, she had left her home to Verity who had shown she loved it as much as Didi did... But, immediately the fun starts because Didi immediately created her vision of that house as she lived there... Which Verify loved and hoped she could stay... At the same time, Frankie felt it was his home now and wasn't happy with what she represented. You see, when Didi returned into her former home, she became the dominant ghost. Soon Frankie's home had been returned to a garden shed! Then Didi, thinking about her late husband, began to dress Frankie in a sweater, with a pipe... Well, hopefully you all who have been reading Fox for years know what Frankie thinks about himself...He...was...dominant! LOL Just like all men think so, right?

Which leads us to the main thrust of the mystery... During the Women's Suffrage movement, Sugarland had also become involved. However, it was not well received by the town's men. So women, at first, started meeting secretly. Rose, one of Verity's ancestors had been a major part of those activities. Unfortunately, all of the records had been entrusted to Didi, who knew nothing about Suffrage activities and after skimming the mountains of papers, had boxed it up and donated it... to... the... library! And, by the way, during the fire, a skeleton was found hidden in a wall there... 

I laughed often, but I teared up as well... Learning what was happening to women, how they were treated but so dedicated that, even after death, when they didn't know they'd died a century before, continued to work to make money to support those speakers who were traveling across the nation working to ensure women would be given the right to vote!

Must we continue to have similar types of situations over and over and over as men strive to override those votes that result in something different than candidates want! I'll never forget how a mother and daughter had lies made about them by the president and his lawyer! We must continue to fight to CONFIRM that ALL PEOPLE ARE CREATED EQUALLY as the Constitution guarantees... Then, why oh why must we repeat each step forward, while men want to go backward to the time when white men were the only ones allowed to participate in determining the type of government under which we live?!

And, why, Lord, do people continue to forget the only real things we needed to do for Him: Love and Speak Truth??? I thought Fox did an excellent job in the creation of the villain in this case... So very perfect an example of how some children are raised, taught, or simply, feel entitled to lie, cheat, and even murder if needed to get what was required for the life chosen... Angie, I hope you'll continue to take diversions into family life from time to time! Best book yet!

GABixlerReviews

Angie Fox Created an Entire Series with a Skunk as a Main Character! Check Out The Ghost of Christmas Past! Great last-minute Christmas Gift...

 

The hardest part about stringing Christmas lights on the marble mantel over my fireplace was getting them to stay where I wanted them. “Halt!” I ordered as the twinkling red and white candy cane lights slid off the far side of the mantel. Perhaps I’d overdone it earlier with the marble polish. I took a deep breath—not too deep, since I didn’t want to test the seams of my party dress—bent down, grabbed the strand, and straightened back up, all without a single wobble. Well, praise be and hallelujah. I was getting the hang of balancing in these heels, at least. I’d set aside a small budget for holiday decorations this year. It wasn’t much—I was still very cautious about spending any of my hard-earned savings after nearly losing the house. But when I’d happened upon a little pop-up holiday store downtown called A Light To Remember, I couldn’t resist. Not only had I found the mantel lights, but also the perfect multicolored net lights for the hydrangea bushes out front. They spot-on matched the plastic balls embedded in the pretty little wreath my mother had sent when she visited Santa Claus, Indiana. The icicle lights went up on the shed, where my ghost friend Frankie had insisted he needed “mood lighting” for his upcoming date with his ghostly girlfriend, Molly. I resisted any and all jokes about his icy touch, his cold gangster heart, or the fact that as the dominant ghost of the shed, he could have conjured up a set of ghostly lights himself. After all, it was Christmas. And I could certainly spare some holiday cheer. This string of lights brought that spirit of the holidays to my mantel. Or they would, as soon as I could get them to drape a little without pulling the whole shebang over the edge. I pushed and bunched and arranged the twinkling candy canes a few more times before I remembered the roll of double-sided tape in my kitchen junk drawer. 

I turned to go get it, and my ankle snagged against something warm and fluffy. “Whoops!” I managed three staggered steps and some ungraceful pinwheeling of my arms before I found my balance. “Lucille Desiree Long,” I chided as my pet skunk snuffled around my ankles, happily oblivious to the disaster she’d almost caused. “You should know better than to sneak up on me like that.” Especially when I was wearing heels two inches taller than any woman should and a dress not designed for gymnastics. My sister, Melody, had lent me the whole kit and caboodle and assured me it was the latest thing. The sleek, sequined dress hugged my curves all the way down to my knees and sparkled like sunrise over a lake. I’d flat-ironed the ever-present wave out of my hair and pinned it back in a high, elegant bun. My makeup was nice but subtle—eyeliner and mascara, a touch of blush and a bright pink shade of lip gloss that I saved for special occasions. “Christmas with the Wydells,” Melody had said with a whistle when I told her why I needed the dress. “I don’t envy you.” “It’s going to go fine,” I’d assured her, and I think we both hoped I wasn’t lying through my teeth. I sighed and swept an errant hair off my face. I was a Southern girl. Practical. Just because the town matriarch, Virginia Wydell, had tried to ruin me and take my ancestral home didn’t mean I couldn’t spend Christmas with her. 

I fought the urge to chew at my freshly glossed lips. That sounded bad, even in my head. Still, I had to find a way to get along with Virginia. I was currently dating one of her sons. “We’ll work it out. We’ve been making progress,” I reminded my little skunk—and myself—as I reached down to stroke Lucy’s stubby ears, one of which had turned inside out. After all, I had been invited to this year’s Christmas. That hadn’t happened in a while. I straightened up and headed into the kitchen to look for the tape. Being invited to the Wydell family Christmas party was a big step forward in my relationship with the family. Virginia and I had both been in denial lately about how serious I was becoming about Ellis Wydell. He was the middle of Virginia’s three sons, a deputy sheriff for the town of Sugarland, Tennessee, and the most wonderful man I’d ever met. The problem was, he wasn’t the first Wydell boy I’d dated. Years ago I’d been engaged to Ellis’s younger brother, Beau. I’d been all set to say, “I do,” until Beau hit on my sister the night before the wedding. Needless to say, I’d called it off—but Virginia still stuck me with the bill and ruined my reputation in town. 

“But it didn’t ruin you and me, did it?” I cooed at Lucy while I opened the junk drawer. “No, baby girl, it did not.” I’d reassembled the scattered pieces of my life, found work again—very challenging work, but ghost hunting was finally paying the bills—and now I was going to celebrate Christmas with Ellis at his cousin Montgomery’s house. Montgomery was his dad’s cousin, and one of the stalwart leaders of the family. The last time I’d been to his Christmas party, I was Beau’s fiancée. Don’t think about that. Montgomery Wydell knew how to throw one heck of a celebration. There would be eggnog and roasted chestnuts and— 

~~~

Angie Fox is one of my favorite cozy mystery writers. Having a pet skunk helped that decision, hopefully Lucille no longer has the ability to send out fumes--even in love! If you haven't read her books, put her name in the search column in my right column and you'll have 10 others to enjoy!

Angie does wind up getting herself into trouble whenever and wherever she is... But moving from one brother to another in a family where their mother is one of the "elite" in town is bound to bring pain for the woman who is one of Virginia's true nemesis and shows her disdain for Verity who is now in a close relationship with one of Virginia's sons. And she does everything she can think of to make it hard on this couple. I have to admit that I wouldn't be as patient with Virginia. But part of the problem is that Verify is not of the rich and famous and thus takes every gesture of kindness from Virginia, only to discover it wasn't kind... Take for instance when Verify was invited to this year's Christmas party open house. She sent a gift basket of pears with a note that this will be an appropriate gift for those attending. 

Dearest Verity, I’m sure you would like to make a good impression tonight, so in the spirit of Christmas I have taken care of your hostess gift for the party. Bring this lovely arrangement and it will at least appear as if you belong. Best, Virginia Wydell.

Only to discover later that the giant basket of pears was totally inappropriate...Worse, Virginia had sent them to Verity COD! And Verity was hunting all over her house for change to cover the $100+ cost! Don't you just love to be able to "hate" some of the characters you read about! Sorta helps get over a rude grocery cashier as you leave the neighborhood store, right?! But then, I have to admit that if my son was dating a woman who was a ghost hunter, I think I'd probably cringe or laugh out loud when introducing her. Especially when there was more than one new ghost to meet...

Oh yes, I don't want to forget to point out that the Ghost in this story is not the ghost that lives in Verity's home... On the other hand, readers do get to learn about dominant ghosts versus... I admit that comes a little later in the book, but discovering that all the ghosts were part of the Wydell family and extended family... was a surprise even for Verity's ghost, Frankie...

So how did this situation begin? Well, Donna who was a good ghost was part of a group that made sure those who were lost or hurt in the area are saved. Donna knew that Verity could see ghosts--yes! not just her own ghost--and asked for her help in case further help was needed. She got them to the location of where a sighting had occurred, which was in an old mill building. Which happened to be on the Wydell property and many of the family had chosen to stay there. You know what's coming, right? Not everyone who dies knows what to do at that point, so they just stay where they were most comfortable.

So Frankie and Verity headed for the Old Mill and upon arriving, could actually hear "breathing." Heavy loud breathing! Oh, do you know who naturally hibernates during the cold winter? Bears! Right. This was a mama bear and her children who had been asleep until the small ones woke up! At the same time, while trying to figure out how to get the mother bear awake without attacking Verity, she was investigating the building to see what to do. What she found was that part of the old mill was about to break--the rope was unraveling--and the entire section of the equipment would fall on the bears! Yikes!

About that time, Phineas Wydell arrived on scene with Frankie and that caused a bit of confusion, of course! Phineas was quite willing to work with them to save the bears, but, I hope you know by now, that ghosts have a hard time moving things once they are dead... And all the other ghosts who were celebrating Christmas was Phineas' vision of the last Christmas in 1930 when his wife was still alive. Sadly, it seemed, he closed out the past so that he could help save the living... But how?!

Finally, even though she did not want to do it, Verity realized that she'd need to get to the Wydell home and get help to save the bears since the rope was snapping faster and faster... But Phineas had other ideas and slammed the door, locking it. Verify was upset, obviously, but Phineas believed that she had been brought that night for a reason. And he needed her to help him or the bears would be lost!

And then Phineas said, "There's another ghost here to see you. A stronger one than I am..."

The Ghost of the Future...

Merry Christmas!

Gabby!

Latest in Series, Sweet Tea and Spirits, by Angie Fox!

They say you know a ghost is near when bloodhounds howl in the night or when you see a flickering shadow out of the corner of your eye. But as I leaned against the white painted rail of my back porch, I knew a ghost lingered behind me because he couldn’t stop talking about his poker hand. 
“Four of a kind, aces,” Frankie crowed, laying his cards out on the table for his three gangster buddies, who would have been green with envy if they hadn’t shimmered in black and white.
The snub-nosed ghost across from Frankie tossed his cards down onto the table. “You’re cheating!” he declared, but he said it halfheartedly. He knew as well as I did that Frankie couldn’t be hiding an ace up his sleeve. Spirits could only own what they’d died with and Frankie hadn’t been holding any cards on that hot summer night back in 1933. 
“Lucky at cards, unlucky at love,” I teased, gaining a bemused

glance from my boyfriend of several months, the handsome deputy sheriff, Ellis Wydell. I drew close enough to smell his spicy aftershave. “I’m talking about Frankie.” 
“I figured,” Ellis said, wrapping an arm around me. “You need to find him a girlfriend.” 
“I think that’s beyond my pay grade.” I was still getting used to the fact that I could see spirits and talk to them. And that I occasionally hosted poker night. Ghostly matchmaking was a whole other level of weird. Ellis and I shared a grin and I was just about to lean up and kiss him when the phone in my pocket vibrated.
“I wonder who that could be,” I said, not recognizing the number. If the call wasn’t from a friend or family member, maybe it was a potential client. I’d been trying to get my ghost-hunting business started. “Oh, Ellis. I think this could be it.” I stepped away from him and answered. “Hello?” I asked, over the croak of bullfrogs and the chirping of crickets. 
Static clouded the other end of the line. A woman’s voice crackled in the midst of it. “We need you.” Her words sounded hollow, far away. 
“Who is this?” I pulled the phone away to take a second look at the caller ID. 
“I recognize that number,” Ellis said. “It’s the main line for the Sugarland Heritage Society.” The group oversaw historic preservation and resided in one of the town’s most treasured old properties. It shouldn’t be open this late at night, on a Friday no less.
I’ll be there in five.” He headed for the porch steps. “Sorry, Verity.” 
“I’m going with you,” I said, hurrying after him, making sure to bypass the ghosts. Ellis stopped at the edge of the porch and planted a quick kiss on top of my head. 
“Not this time. Break-ins can be dangerous.” He gave my hand a squeeze and then took to the stairs. “Let me do my job.” 
“It’s a murder,” I said, following him down. “That’s the call I just got. A woman reported a murder. The call came from inside the house.” 
He drew his radio out again and cursed under his breath. “Watch your backs. Verity Long just received a call from inside the Sugarland Heritage Society. Caller reported a murder.” I gave it ten seconds before that was all over town. 
“You see why I’m going with you,” I said, trailing him to his police cruiser. Dang. I needed to get my purse.
“Not yet,” Ellis said, turning to me. “The police will be swarming all over the place.” He dug in his pocket for his keys. “This is the biggest thing since the bank murder.”
 “Which I solved,” I pointed out. 
“You know I think you’re amazing,” he said, with the kind of pride that made me go a bit melty, “but let the police do their job, mortal methods only. I’ll tell you what we find and bring you in as soon as we can.” 
“But a murder?” I protested, unwilling to let it go. 
“I’ll check it out,” he assured me. 
Yes, well, he couldn’t see everything. 
“I’ll call you as soon as I have something to tell you,” he said, opening the door and hitting the lights on the cruiser. 
He’d better.

~~~

Sweet Tea and Spirits:

Southern Ghost Hunter Mysteries

By Angie Fox

I had finished my week-long ReadaThon of this entire series during a much-needed spring break... But when I saw that the latest novel had just been published, I immediately stopped and went out to download that final book (for now). I knew I was hooked!

But I am certainly happy to have done so...This is by far, for me, the best of the best! It's a complex murder mystery, as well as an amazing paranormal tale--ok--a still greater ghost story than all of the previous ones...👀

Which only served to make me become happy when I saw that the author had already begun on the next book...

Verity gets a call at the same time the police learn of a breakin at the local Historical Society... Verity's call indicated that there had been a murder! Only thing, when the police got there, there wasn't anybody around. Soooo, who had called Verity? Or better, "how" did the caller use the telephone?

This is a story where humans really meet ghosts...they are all around the historical building, with even an old ignored cemetery... I'll let Verity tell you what she sees there, but the word to think is...creepy...

The woman who had been killed was the new president of the society, replacing the last, our female villain of the town, and the mother of both men in Verity's love life, who sued Verity when she left her baby at the altar... She had been president for at least ten years, the loss quite upsetting, especially since she'd taken all the records from the library into the building only to be lost...

But that didn't stop then discovering the secret that those records revealed. And that was a doozy of a surprise!

Nor did it result in not solving the murder mystery that pulled everything together...

One of the most delightful parts of this book is the shenanigans that Frankie starts...the ghost who comes back to town and gets into an argument with Frankie who threatens to kill him...deader this time...LOL And, dare I reveal that Frankie finds a ghost girlfriend?! Yes! you need to know to prove how super-cool this latest book is...It is my personal favorite not only of the series, but of the year's read books.  So it had to be added to my 2017 personal favorite lists...

Fox has handled this series in an outstanding, exemplary manner. She makes sure that each book stands alone, providing sufficient background information that is, importantly, not merely a rewrite. Her back story flows within the new book, revealing information which is duplicative but not tedious to series followers.

Character development is extraordinary. Each ghost has a background story that makes you care for them. There was one particular ghost in this book that had been in town during the time her grandmother had been alive. Since the dominating ghost shows the site where he or she is as he saw it when he was alive, Verity, for the first time, was able to see the entire family estate as it once was... This was such a cool idea to add, in my opinion, given that over the years much of the land had been sold off before the home was inherited by Verity... Kinda wish I could have a ghost show me what my property looked like which had been in the family for over 100 years... 

You know when you've followed every book in a series, it soon becomes like a well-known family. Aaron Paul Lazar has the skill to do that with his various series that I follow. This is the first by another author, but definitely inspires the same feelings... Already I'm hoping that Frankie will become a permanent house guest...somehow...

Highly recommended for series lovers, especially if you do it like I did and read the entire series in a week...I never tired of moving on to the next story, and only stopped to eat and sleep... Now that's what I call a refreshing and wonderful spring break. Try it with this series...You definitely won't be sorry!


GABixlerReviews

New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Angie Fox writes sweet, fun, action-packed paranormal mystery and romance. Her characters are clever and fearless, but in real life, Angie is afraid of basements, bees, and going up stairs when it is dark behind her. Let's face it. Angie wouldn't last five minutes in one of her books.

Angie is best known for her Southern Ghost Hunter mysteries and for her Accidental Demon Slayer books. She lives in St. Louis, with her football-addicted husband, two kids, and Moxie the dog.

Sign up here: http://eepurl.com/bUrBDT to find out when her next release is coming out.

Visit Angie online:
Website: www.angiefox.com
Twitter: www.twitter.com/AngieFoxauthor
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/176533609089557

Dog Gone Ghost by Angie Fox is Dog-Gone Great!

...I grabbed my bowl of strawberries and headed for the woodpile. I’d probably need every last one of them to coax Lucy out this time. I was searching for that tuft of tail when I heard a car crunching down the side driveway. Interesting. I wasn’t expecting anyone. 
Then again, this was Sugarland, where friends and neighbors felt free to drop by anytime. It was one of the things I loved about this place. But I didn’t recognize the gray Honda Civic that pulled up on the opposite side of the ghost car, or at least where I believed it to be. It was interesting how the living instinctively tended to avoid the dead. 
An African American girl with natural hair and cat-eye glasses slid out of the car. I tried to place her and knew I recognized her from town. She smiled at me and slammed the door, showing off thin arms and a honey badger tattoo. 
“Hiya!” she said by way of introduction. “I hope I’m not interrupting. I’m Bree LaMont.” 
Now I remembered her. She was friends with the woman who owned the New For You resale shop downtown. I’d solved a haunting there a while back. I lifted my bowl and then glanced at the woodpile. “I’ve got a little critter I’m trying to catch.” 
Her gaze darted to the logs. “Friendly or feisty?” she asked, growing serious, careful. 

“Both,” I said, smiling. “It’s my pet skunk, Lucy. We were trying out a harness for the first time and she got spooked.” I’d leave out the part about the ghost. Bree crouched in front of the woodpile as if she’d done this before, which was… impossible. She tilted her head. 
“I see little Lucy,” she said, her tone warming. Bree smacked her lips. Once. Twice. It didn’t make any sense. I saw the flash of a tail. That’s it, love,” she murmured, graduating to a harsh purr that sounded like part skunk, part cat. Lucy’s nose poked out from under a log. Bree purred deeper, and Lucy wriggled out from under the woodpile. A grin tickled the side of Bree’s lips as my little skunk toddled straight into her arms. “That’s it,” she said, embracing her, “Good girl.” 
“How did you do that?” I asked, crouching next to her to pet my skunk. Bree stroked Lucy’s silky fur, stopping to flick out the occasional piece of tree bark. 
“I called her like her mamma would. It helps that Lucy’s the adventurous sort.” She stroked the soft spot behind her ear. “You’re a curious one, aren’t you?” 
“And you’re the skunk whisperer,” I told her, amazed to see them both perfectly content. Believe it or not, some folks in town had issue with Lucy being a skunk. They labeled her as a menace before they even bothered to get to know her. 
“I work for the Sugarland Animal Sanctuary,” Bree said, standing, with Lucy in her arms. “But in college, I volunteered with the Smoky Mountains Wildlife Rescue Center in Gatlinburg. We saw a fair number of Lucy’s country cousins.”
“Let’s sit up on the porch,” I suggested. Lucy was going to get heavy in a second and Bree showed no sign of putting her down. “I don’t have any sweet tea brewed.” In fact, I didn’t have any tea or sugar in the house. I felt my cheeks flush with embarrassment. Southern hospitality called for me to have something to offer my guest, but the money for extras this month had gone toward securing Lucy a bit of exercise. “I can get you a big glass of iced water.”
“I’m fine, thanks,” she said, joining me on the porch. She winced a bit and seemed to hesitate for a moment. “What I really need is a favor.” 
“All right,” I said, sitting on the swing with her. I’d do my best. She drew Lucy a bit closer to her chest and the skunk snuggled in tight. “We have a dangerous situation at the animal sanctuary. A ghost. Word around town is that you handle that sort of thing.” 
“I do. In fact, I just started a new ghost-hunting business,” I told her. Even before I’d gone pro, Frankie and I had done a lot of good. We’d caught more than one killer, we’d reunited a World War Two soldier with his sweetheart, and we’d even solved a decades-old mystery at a haunted mansion. 
“My boss forbade me to call you,” she admitted, her fingers twining in Lucy’s fur. “We don’t have the money for this sort of thing and he doesn’t even believe in ghosts. But I saw something last night that needs fixing, no matter what he thinks.” 
“You can tell me,” I assured her. 
Lucy curled her soft tail around Bree’s arm and the woman stroked it. “We’ve had trouble this past week with animals getting out of their cages at night. Dogs, mostly. But sometimes cats and rabbits. We had a guinea pig go loose last night and that’s dangerous. The animals could hurt themselves or each other. My boss thinks it’s the cages or that we’re not locking them tight enough, but it’s not. Someone or something is letting the animals out.” 
I believed her. Bree didn’t seem like the type to forget to lock the cages. “What did you see last night?” I pressed. She drew tight and then blew out a breath. 
“I brought a sleeping bag to work last night and I stayed. I’ve done it before for sick animals or for an animal that’s having trouble adjusting.” She seemed unsure and I nodded for her to continue. “We have a separate area for the dogs. I set up in the hallway outside the dog kennels. I kept the lights on and even managed to get a few hours’ sleep. But at about three in the morning, the kennels started opening by themselves. It was as if someone was unlatching them, but I didn’t see anybody.” 
“It’s okay,” I said, placing a hand over her trembling one. “I believe you.” Her eyes had gone glassy. “You’re probably the only one who would. It was freaky. And it’s bad for our animals and I don’t know what to do...”

~~~

Dog Gone Ghost:

Southern Ghost Hunter Mysteries Novella

By Angie Fox

If you are reading the series...or if not...this is a delightful, heartwarming story about a boy and his dog...Ok, the boy happens to be a ghost - of a missing child Verity had learned about...

But still when the cages at a local animal sanctuary began to be opened at night, Verity had not yet put the two issues together...Since the book description tells the basic storyline, I'm not giving anything away, except the wonderful vibes you'll be feeling as you read...

First we meet a skunk whisperer who can handle Lucy better than Verity! But she didn't get jealous, because she'd also found the perfect person to help train the skunk...to walk on a leash...which, of course, is not really in a skunk's nature. Of that, I'm just guessing since I only know that I have skunks when I accidentally discern that certain smell...😉 Since there are raccoons, 'possum and cats around my cabin, I guess a skunk could get entangled with a potential enemy once in a while, but I've never really heard animals fighting when that smell is around...guess the other animals have the right reaction! Run!

Bree LaMont works at the animal shelter and knew it had to be a ghost--she'd stayed one night and actually saw the cages being opened and could see nobody doing it... Her main fear was that the animals could get hurt, or even hurt each other. 

And so Verity and Bree went to the Sanctuary to begin the investigation: (Now I just had to share this excerpt--you'll guess why!)

“We’re pressed for space,” Bree said. “Our vet recommended this setup. It was never a problem until…” Until someone began opening the cages. “Show me where you were when it happened,” I told her. She nodded and opened a door at the back. We stepped outside for a moment, under a covered walkway. My eyes had barely adjusted to the dark when we entered the cement-block building I’d seen earlier. We were greeted by a cacophony of dog barks and Lucy startled. “It’s okay,” I said, stroking her. “They’re just saying hello.” We stood at the beginning of a long hallway with fenced-in play yards to the right, eight in all. Most had dog noses pressed against them. I reached through the nearest one and stroked the wet quivering

nose of the small gray mutt who leapt for joy in between pets. She wriggled under my hand, licking me as I tried to stroke her head, her shoulders, whatever I could reach. “That’s Glenda,” Bree said. “I was sleeping here,” she added, standing halfway down the hallway, “when Glenda’s cage just opened.” “Was she scared?” I asked, taking a break from the Glenda love-fest to check the latch. It appeared sturdy. “Glenda was overjoyed,” Bree said, “as were Marvin and Shep— both bassets— and Boomer. We’re not sure what he is.” Her voice caught. “Then I heard a crash in the small-animal room. I rushed in to find Ninja the guinea pig running from Stripe the cat and then Glenda followed me and brought in the hounds.” “Calm down.” She sounded overwhelmed again. “We’ll fix it.”

Wellll, I'd never met a dog named Glenda...and I do hereby swear I've never even read Angie Fox's books before this series... But, really, it's nice to come across your name used for a character in a book, even if I'd prefer to have had a cat named after me!😍

I loved this story... It's a short sweet ghost tale that certainly highlights how the love between animals and their humans can become so important to children... It's, well, Dog-Gone Great! And highly recommended!

GABixlerReviews 

Book 3 - The Haunted Heist - by Angie Fox!

I kept both hands on the soaking wet skunk in my kitchen sink while a small tsunami of water sloshed over the front of my pink sweater set and white jeans. Bath time wasn’t Lucy’s favorite recreational activity, and by extension it wasn’t mine, either. As I readjusted my grip, she braced her back legs for a wild leap onto the counter. “Lucy,” I admonished, nudging an eggshell off her petite, velvety ear, “it wasn’t my idea for you to go digging in the compost bin.” She grunted and wriggled while I slid her into a soft mound of soap bubbles and washed day-old banana off her cheeks. My little girl loved fruit and would take it any way she could get it. “You’re almost done,” I told her, rinsing the double white stripe on her back with the hand spout while she tried to eat a soap bubble. I nearly had her calm when the spirit of my

gangster housemate shimmered into view next to me. Frankie “The German” appeared in black and white, like an old movie, but I could see through him. Almost. Lucy jerked at the presence of the ghost and launched into a rolling twist that soaked me to my elbows. “Lucille Désirée Long,” I warned, regaining my grip on her. 

Frankie smoothed his 1920s-style pinstripe suit and straightened his fat tie. His long face and sharp nose made him appear every bit the utterly ruthless gangster he had been when he was alive. It would have scared me if I didn’t know him. 

“We got company.” The ghost cocked his head, and I heard the faint crunch of gravel. “A black sedan creeping down the side drive.” 

Strange. “I wasn’t expecting anyone.” 

“I got this,” he said, shoulders stiffening as he drew a revolver out of his coat pocket. 

“Frankie, wait—” It was eight in the morning. I doubted we were under attack. Frankie ducked through the back wall and out onto the porch. Lucy used my split second of distraction to break for the counter. She made it halfway across before I snagged a clean towel off the kitchen island and captured her behind the toaster. I snuggled my skunk close and towel dried her fur as I peeked out the window over the sink. A black Mercedes parked out back. 

My friend Lauralee sat in the passenger seat. Frankie holstered his gun when he saw her exit the car. 

I gripped my skunk a little tighter when Lauralee’s uncle Reggie, the big-time banker, emerged from the driver’s side. Here I stood, drenched in skunk water, with one of the most powerful men in Sugarland about to knock on my door. Lauralee had seen me at my worst, but Reggie was another matter. He’d never encountered me in anything more casual than a summer dress at a picnic. I set Lucy down on the floor. Her wet fur stood out at all angles around her scrawny little body. She appeared half her usual size when wet. “Oh my, sweetie. 

We’ve got to fix this,” I told her. Not her hair or mine. Those were lost causes. But I could still put the last of the coffee on and then raid the laundry room for a dry sweater. I was on my way to dig through my laundry pile of limited options when a horrible sight stopped me in my tracks. 

In all the excitement, it had quite slipped my mind that a huge black outdoor trash can occupied the space where my kitchen table used to stand. Worse, rich garden dirt filled it to the brim and provided a home for one very large, teetering, heirloom red rosebush. How to explain… 

I chewed my lip as my guests started up the walk. I certainly couldn’t tell them the truth: that I’d trapped the spirit of a long-dead gangster in my house and that this was part of our attempt to free him. Lauralee might understand if I could convince her ghosts were real. But Reggie would think I’d lost my mind. He was respectable, proper. He’d come back home from Chicago to take over the oldest bank in town. And if he told another soul in Sugarland, my secret would be out before suppertime. There simply had to be a way to handle this. 

I’d hide it in the parlor. Curling my fingers around the edge of the trash can, I pulled hard. It slid… a bit. It was heavier than I’d imagined. I gritted my teeth, wincing as my arm stretched half out of its socket while I dragged the can one foot, two feet, almost three… 

“Where do you think you’re going with that?” Frankie demanded.

“We have to hide… you,” I said, having no time to sugarcoat it. It was either that or reveal his final resting place to my guests. Then I’d have to somehow explain that I’d mistaken Frankie’s urn for a dirty old vase and dumped his ashes out into my rosebushes, grounding him on my property. And that we’d moved him inside for safekeeping. “Please step aside.” I could walk through him, but it would give both of us an icy shock. 

“I ain’t going anywhere.” He removed his white Panama hat. “Those are my ashes you’re messing with.” He pointed his hat at the mess. “My urn.” Heavens to Betsy, we’d left his urn nestled at the bottom of the rosebush. I met Frankie trash-can-to-hips, eye-to-eye, trying not to let my gaze wander to the neat, round bullet hole smack dab in the middle of his pasty white forehead. He hadn’t gotten it by being a nice guy. 

“Please, Frankie,” I said, praying he had a sliver of gentleman in him, “I’m not ready to explain this to company.”

“You don’t got much of a choice. That can ain’t budging.” Frankie glided toward the back wall while I took hold of the trash can and pulled with all my might until I succeeded in tugging it into the parlor. Except the parlor held my only piece of furniture suitable for entertaining company— a purple velvet couch I’d gotten in exchange for solving a ghostly problem. Frankie shoved his head through the back wall and whistled. “Smokes. Get a load of that sharp suit.” 

“Frankie!” I protested. “You’re not helping.” He didn’t even bother to take his head out of the wall. “You know I can’t move anything on the mortal plane.” That wasn’t the point. I put my butt to the can and pushed backward, nudging it toward an out-of-the-way out-of-the-way corner. It slid two feet, then two more, probably leaving a mud spot on my white pants. Nobody but me could see Frankie, and if I could just get rid of the evidence… 

“The big cheese is coming up the porch steps,” Frankie called. “Spit-shined shoes. Ritzy watch. I do like his style,” he added, almost to himself. “What do you suppose he wants with you?” My sneakers slipped on the hardwood. Dirt spilled from the top of the can. I’d barely made it past the fireplace. “Your friend’s carrying a box. They’re at the door now.” 

No. A knock sounded. We were out of time. The lower branches of the rosebush flopped toward my face as I forced the can back against the wall by the antique marble fireplace in the parlor. In one smooth move, I grabbed the bedsheet from the futon and tossed it over the rosebush. “There.” 

“That looks worse,” Frankie said.

It would have to do. I frantically brushed dirt from my white jeans and wet sweater, and tried to pat down my hair as I hurried to answer the door. 

Lucy, who loved visitors, ran from the main hallway to join me. She grunted with excitement, her scraggly little body churning with each step. 

Oh, to be a skunk without a mirror. I opened the door and tried for my most carefree smile. “Good morning!”

!!!

The Haunted Heist:

The Southern Ghost Hunter Mysteries

By Angie Fox

The Beginning of Book 3 of The Southern Ghost Hunter Mysteries gives readers the perfect opportunity to get to know the lighter side of Verity's living with her housemates - Lucy and Frankie. You see, we open with Verity having to give a bath to Lucy for getting in their garden compost and now being covered by the mixture...banana peelings, egg shells and all!😒

And just for good measure, Frankie pops in next to the two of them--Lucy does not like Frankie and she struggles to run away...

So that when Verity has the first warning of company visiting, she is, ah, not exactly looking like it's time to meet and greet...

Lauralee was one of her best friends, so she didn't mind her visiting, but she had brought her uncle, who had come back to Sugarland to take over the town's bank... Thankfully, Reggie was a good man and handled Verity's embarrassment in a gentlemanly fashion. And by the time the visit was over Verity was scheduled to meet with him about a job at the bank! A real job, using her design expertise! 

Only thing is, when she was in the midst of the interview, Reggie was called to another floor for an emergency situation... And died... You get the feeling that Verity is going to be chasing more ghosts for an even longer time!

Soooooo, here's a trick question! What happens if you're in the midst of digging a tunnel to rob a bank, and you die?
Well, you become a ghost and keep on digging...

Now, employees at the bank had been hearing noises in the vault for quite some time and they had wanted the new president to hear it as well, hoping they'd be able to discover what it was--was the bank haunted?

Well, of course it was--at least by one lonely ghost who hadn't been out of a tunnel for years... But, when Verity had run down to see what was happening and saw the body, and those there, she felt it had to have been one of those individuals, especially after talking with Frankie and having him check things out with his friends. Only thing was, there were marks on his body that were the signature of a known criminal, and using his normal method of operation... Of course he was dead...

Still, Frankie was happy with it all...his friend, Suds, who'd died in the tunnel, was found and Frankie broke the news that he was dead. Still, it did free him and wouldn't you know it, Suds was soon often a visitor to Verity's house...

Then there's the jilted mother-in-law who discovers Verity having dinner with another son!

Her expression hardened. “I thought you learned your lesson the first time when I took you for everything you had,” she drawled. “I’ll do it again if you’d like. Just give me an excuse.” Her lips twisted into a faint smile as she closed the door. I turned and walked away, and I kept going, even when I heard Ellis’s voice as I opened my car door. “Verity?” He sounded surprised and harried. Ellis wore a flannel work shirt, jeans, and a fine dusting of plaster that would have been endearing if he hadn’t appeared almost as frightened as he was confused at my sudden appearance on his front porch. “I have to go,” I said as his mother stepped onto the porch behind him, her arms crossed in front of her. I’d had a bad day and knew better than to stay for round two with Virginia. I’d come to him bruised and battered enough. And I believed her threat. She would enjoy hurting me.

Now you've got to admit, the minor plots in this series are outrageously enjoyable...A Pet skunk, ghost house guests, a furious jilted-to-be-mother-in-law who is not only vengeful but willing to act to ruin Verity's life in any way she can!

Plus a murder mystery to be solved. And instead of starting a new advertising campaign for the bank president, Verity is once again helping to solve the latest mystery by working with her unseen "confidential informants..." This mystery is complex, intriguing, and certainly surprising as it develops, as secrets start coming out from both humans...and...ghosts!

Delightfully entertaining! A winning series from an excellent mystery writer!


GABixlerReviews

The Skeleton in the Closet, Third Story in Series by Angie Fox...and Lovin' My Readathon!

I closed my eyes, breathing the clean fall air still tinged with the warmth of the fading summer. And I nearly ran smack-dab into the large Civil War reproduction cannon sponsored by the Sugarland Heritage Society. In my defense, it hadn't been there yesterday. The lawn outside the library— heck, the entire town square— had been transformed. With good reason. Today was the first day of the annual Cannonball in the Wall Festival.
 As far as parties went, Cannonball in the Wall Day was right up there with Christmas, Easter, and the biscuits-and-gravy breakfast at Lulabelle Mason's house. 
This year would be even better. A History channel documentary crew had rolled into town to film the celebration, and it seemed every man, woman, and child from four counties had descended on us like bees to honey butter. "Melody?" I called, spotting a blonde with a ponytail through the crowd. I strained to get a better look. "Melody!" I waved. 
The woman turned and I realized it wasn't my sister. This perky blonde was an actress I'd seen on television. I didn't know whether to be impressed or frustrated. I'd told Melody I'd meet her near the library, but that was before we realized what a spectacle this year's event was going to be. It might take some doing to pick her out of the larger-than-usual crowd. 
I ran a hand along the gun barrel of the old cannon, over the layers of caked-on paint, warm from the sun. During the war, Tennessee was one of the most divided states in the nation, and our boys had gone off to fight on both sides. That left the town vulnerable when the Yankee army came through in 1863. The local militia fought to keep everyone safe, but our homes and businesses were on fire all around them. We thought it was over when the Yankees got their cannon up and shot straight into the town square. 
Wouldn't you know it, that ball did not explode. It lodged deep in the wall of the Sugarland Library for everyone to see. That small victory gave our ancestors the extra bit of spit and vinegar they needed to drive the invaders out and save our town. The preacher at the time declared it a miracle. While I wasn't so sure faulty explosives qualified as the hand of God, the entire town had assembled to celebrate every year since. We'd come together— people of all different backgrounds and walks of life— and we'd saved the place we loved. The Cannonball in the Wall Festival reminded us to be grateful for that. A smile tickled my lips and I couldn't help but gaze at the rusting iron cannonball still embedded in the white limestone near the foundation of the historic library. Soon everyone would know our story.
"Five dollars for a picture with the cannonball," barked a scratchy voice to my right. I turned to find Ovis Dupre's thin, bent frame nearly on top of me. The old man didn't understand the concept of personal space. Instead, he drew even closer with his vintage Polaroid. 
"No, thank you," I said, doing my best to duck around him while taking care to be kind. He meant well. Besides, I couldn't afford to alienate any of my neighbors after a recent event had left my reputation a little questionable...

~~~

The Skeleton in the Closet: 

The Southern Ghost Hunter Mysteries

By Angie Fox

Folklore developed in a community can drawn people together in celebration--whether that folklore is true or not. That was the case when The Cannonball in the Wall became an annual celebration for the town of Sugarland. Of course, the cannonball in question happened to be shot into the side of the town library...but that's part of the story yet to be considered...

Everybody in town was involved in the preparation, especially Melody, Verity's sister, who worked at the library. Exhibits of family antiques and other valuables of the time period were to be placed on display. Two of the oldest families soon began to compete on how big (and, of course, the best) their individual displays were... And, so it was that, the town's volunteer of the year, and others, were soon overwhelmed to create acceptable exhibit areas within the library itself. Soon all of the volunteers had left for the night. Only Darla Grace remained.

But before she finally left, she had called Melody early morning and explained that she'd found something very important and needed to share it as quickly as possible... Melody asked Verity to go with her to help with the remaining work on the displays. But when they got to the library, Darla Grace wasn't there to greet them...

"I was here until almost two this morning. I could barely see straight." We headed for the back door of the building. "Even then, Darla Grace wouldn't quit. Not that I'm one to do anything halfway, but let's just say that when this woman volunteers, she volunteers. I left her sorting through an antique secretary." 

I took a sip of the drink. It was hot, delicious. "That does sound kind of fun." I loved looking through antiques. Melody swung the door open. "True. But Darla Grace really does need to learn when enough is enough," she said. "She left me a message at three this morning, saying I had to get back down here. She'd found something urgent." Melody took a fortifying sip of coffee. "Luckily, I didn't get the voice mail until I woke up," she added under her breath. "What could be so important in a bunch of old letters?" 

"Maybe you'll have to expand the exhibit again," I said, half joking. I loved history as much as the next person, but preserving it should be a labor of love, not this battle between the families. Every light in the library blazed. "You're going to have to preserve this month's electric bill for posterity," I said, trying to get her to smile a little. "It'll be epic." I was glad to see Melody's mouth tug into a grin as we walked down a back hallway and up the stairs to the main level. 

"It'll be fine," she said. "I just worry about Darla sometimes. She needs to learn to take it easy and treat herself better. Maybe I could teach her some of my yoga stretches." "And hope she survives." Melody was as bendy as an acrobat. 

I pushed open the doorway to the main reading room and let my sister enter first. "Darla," she called, "we're here." Velvet-covered tables spanned the edges of the historic high-ceilinged room, which was packed with artfully displayed Civil War muskets, family albums, and letters sent home by long-dead war heroes. Headless mannequins stood in full military uniform. The room appeared even larger now that

they'd taken out all the heavy wood tables. The catering company would replace them with sleek serving stations for the banquet. 
My footsteps echoed in the cavernous space..."It was all in someone's attic last month," Melody said. 
"Try yesterday." I snorted. One of the display cards proudly declared its contents as part of "How the Jacksons Saved Sugarland."
"The Wydells are on the other side," Melody said, sipping her coffee.

"Of course." We wouldn't want their artifacts to mingle. "Maybe Darla finally went home," Melody said. "Although if that was the case, I wish she would have locked up." She ventured past me. "I'm going to head into the donations room and see how far she got."

~~~

Verity was the one to see the shoe...They found her under one of the display tables, obviously dead for some time...

And since she had been there alone, there were no witnesses... except...of course, any ghosts haunting the library!

Since the library had been used during the war as a hospital, this story is sadder than some others since the place was filled with beds, patients, and nurses, all continuing to go through the life they had during that time period. Of course,

Frankie joined a card game of a small group and got the conversation going. Verity soon learned that one of the ghosts who was normally shut off from the rest because he was a Yankee had said that he'd seen it happened... "The beast insisted he saw a man use a bayonet on a lady," he said. "She had a discovery that would change everything. We told him he was wallpapered."

But he was back now in the lower floors of the library where he lived and nobody was going to show her the way there...

She found him reading Interview with the Vampire. And with Verity immediately exclaiming that she loved the book, a new friendship was born...

Of course, the police continued to work their case, but without Verity's contribution, well, I certainly didn't foresee who the murderer was...so, it's a very good thing that Verity could talk to ghosts, don't you think?! 

It's a little hard to prefer one book over another when you love the who series and are reading them all at once... But I did like the ghostly interaction in this book as one of the best, especially when Verity goes back and helps a certain private write a letter...

What? You want more, well another short is coming next-- Ghost of a Chance!


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