http://mfrwbookhooks.blogspot.com for some intriguing excerpts. Mine is a cozy mystery @https://wwweclecticwriter.blogspot.com called Murder and Poisoned Tea
The Mrs. Miller Mysteries series is a sheer delight. Miss Marple and Jessica Fletcher would love Katherine Miller. I know I do. ~~ Writer Gail Roughton
When Martin answered, I explained the situation. “She wants you,
not Judith. You need to take her to the Emergency Room. Ask for Janice.
She’ll be waiting.”
“Be right there.”
After they left, I returned to the church. A prayer filled my thoughts.
I needed to be calm when I faced Roger. If he wasn’t at the church, I’d go
to his apartment. The coals of anger had been fanned. I wouldn’t rest until
he was on his way to jail.
When I opened the side door, the gray cat bolted through the
opening and dashed into the bushes. Once my heart stopped pounding, I
frowned. How had the stray gotten into the church?
I headed up to the choir room. Several pieces of music lay on the
piano. Roger wasn’t in the music library or the room where the choir robes
were kept. Since he’d never leave the lights on and the door open, I knew
he was somewhere in the building. The sanctuary? But I hadn’t heard the
Downstairs, I strode down the hall and opened the door. The lights
were on in the choir loft. Deep shadows filled the rest of the room. I turned
to leave and remembered Marcie’s jacket. What had she said about the
attack? He’d taken her downstairs to one of the pews. Her jacket had to be
As I moved down the aisle, I looked for the bright pink coat. Where
was Roger? I stopped short and held in a gasp. I saw the jacket and
Roger’s body half-sprawled on one of the pews.
Swallowing my scream, I knelt and touched his arm. “Roger.” My
voice sounded tentative. Then I saw his head and the blood. I looked up at
the balcony. Had he fallen or had he been pushed?
There was nothing I could do for him. I turned and ran from the
sanctuary and through the garden to the parish house.
Mary looked up. “He’s not here.”
I’m sure she meant Edward. “I need to call the police.”
“An accident with your car?”
Since I’d already dialed the local station, a number I’ve memorized, I
didn’t answer. No sense repeating my news. “Pete Duggan, please. Tell
him it’s Katherine Miller.”