Murder and Herbal Tea is featured as Sunday's Book #BWLAuthor #MFRWAuthor #cozy mystery #Robespierre #herbs

 Katherine’s wedding day has arrived and she and Lars make their vows. When she notices one of her best friends hasn’t arrived, she begins to worry. Her friend owns a shop where tea and accompaniments are sold. Her friend’s partner is a micromanager. Katherine’s friend has wanted to dissolve the partnership. A call to the New England town brings the dreadful news of a murder. Kate’s protectiveness factor takes hold and she leaves a note for Lars and heads to rescue her friend. Though she has promised to leave murders alone, she feels she has no choice. Lars follows to help her solve another murder.

Editorial Review
Long-time beau Lars has finally convinced Katherine Miller to become Katherine Claybourne. But fans won't be surprised that even on her honeymoon, Kate can't stop herself. She's a magnet for murder. ~ Writer Gail Roughton

Susan

5.0 out of 5 stars Mrs. Miller reels in another culprit

Reviewed in the United States on July 15, 2017

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Murder and Herbal Tea by Janet Lane Walters
Genre: Cozy Mystery
Publisher: Books We Love
First Sentence: During the second week of June, Lars arrived in the Hudson River village where I live and where he had a home.
Review: Katherine, aka Kate, Miller is finally marrying Lars Claybourne. They barely tie the knot and Kate’s off to clear her friend, Joyce, of any wrong doing…even though all fingers point at her. (Without giving up any spoilers)
It’s serious charges against Joyce, and Kate’s all into figuring out what the authorities seem to be missing. Following her process of elimination down a twisty path of possibilities kept me on my toes, enjoyably so.

I read Ms. Walters’ book out of sequence, (this is book 5) not that you should read the Mrs. Miller Mysteries books out of order, but I was able to follow along with the story and character relationships flawlessly.

A happy ending always makes me smile, and Ms. Walters delivers. I recommend this book to anyone who’s into cozy mysteries where the story-star sleuth comes packed with personality plus; )
Susan

Eileen Charbonneau

5.0 out of 5 stars Another winner!

Reviewed in the United States on August 7, 2017

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Who leaves her groom on their wedding day to solve a murder? Mrs Miller-Claybourne, that's who! And her readers are all the better for it! A tolerant and helpful new husband, a friend in need, cooked books, suspects galore, lots of delicious food, tea, and Victorian homes and shops settings make this a welcome addition to this delightful cozy mystery series. And policemen? When are you going to learn that condescending: "Leave detecting to me" remarks are just NOT WISE in the presence of our super sleuth??

 

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Thursday's Characters from Murder and Tainted Tea #BWLAuthor #MFRWAuthor #Cozy mystery #Santa Fe

Katheine is present. Robespierre hasonly a small role this time

Lars _ Katherine's friend. “Kate.”

“Lars, is something wrong?” Why was he calling when he’d see me tomorrow? Had something happened to make it necessary for me to postpone my visit?

“Jitters. Afraid you’ve changed your mind. You’ve never come before. And...there is something...” His voice drifted into silence.

Something was bothering him, but extracting a story long distance is hard. Face to face is better. “My bags are packed and the tickets are in my purse.”

“Good. I’m looking forward to having you here.” He paused. “What are you doing with the cat?”

“He’ll be staying with Maria and the baby.” I chuckled. “At this moment he’s peeved. He tried to use my suitcase as a bed and I chased him.”

Lars laughed. “Guess he wants to come along. You could bring him.”

“Are you out of your mind? You want me to bring the creature who hates cars and being confined? He’ll be fine at the Prescotts’ house. I’m looking forward to freedom from his tyranny.”

“He does tend to act like a dictator. Kate, we’ll have a grand time while you’re here. I’ve so many things planned for us to do.”

I set down the mug. “That’s not why you called. What is bothering you?”

His deep sigh rumbled in my ear. “The problem is...I’m not sure what’s going on.”

Don, Lars' son and Megan his granddaughter - Don and his daughter walked across the drive. I went to the door.

Megan, clad in a bright pink puffy jacket, dropped her father’s hand and ran up the walk. “Told you she come.”

Don reached us and hugged me. Warmth infused my thoughts. I believed we’d moved beyond accord.

“Aunt Katherine, you look wonderful.”

The spicy scent of his aftershave was a welcome addition to the sterile air of the deserted house. “You look great and Megan has grown.”

The dark-haired child danced around us. Her blue eyes sparkled with excitement. She pointed to the carrier. “That’s a suitcase for pets. You bring Rose Prairie. Let me see him.”

Momentarily I pushed my concern for Lars aside. No need to upset Megan, especially since she’d lost her mother just eight months ago. “He didn’t come this trip.” I looked at Don. “You may hate me when you see what I’ve done.”

“Never.” He ran his fingers through his hair, a color between blond and brown. “Never hated you. Back then I let my sister run my life.” He closed the door.

I opened the carrier and lifted the kitten. “This is who I brought.”

“Rose Prairie, you shrink.” Megan’s blue eyes widened and she touched the kitten’s brown, white and sable fur. “Him soft.”

“This is Robespierre’s baby sister. Thought you might like to take care of her.”

“Me! Daddy, can I?”

“Yes.” Don met my gaze. “Thanks. This is the most animated she’s been since Ramona...” Sadness clouded his blue eyes.

Bonnie - Lars' daughter - “Aunt Katherine, how was your trip?” Bonnie’s lips brushed the air by my cheek. Though her greeting held a facade of friendliness, beneath the cordiality a distinct coldness hummed. She drew back, but the cloying sweetness of her perfume lingered.

Of all Lars’ children, she resembles him the most. She’s a tall blonde with skin tanned to a golden hue. Her graceful movements imbued her with the essence of a magnificent jungle beast on the prowl for prey. The leopard skin coat she wore added to the picture.

“Uneventful until I...” Before I finished, she glided away.

“Don, where’s Daddy? There are some important matters he and I need to discuss.” She tossed her coat on one of the chairs facing the fireplace.

Her brother replaced the receiver in the cradle. “He’s not here and we hoped he was with you. When Aunt Katherine arrived, she found the front door open and his partly eaten breakfast on the table.”

“Oh lord, maybe he’s had a heart attack. Did you check the house? What about the grounds? I really need to talk to him.”

I joined the pair. “I’ve checked the house twice. He’s not here.”

She brushed her hair from her face. “I’ve been out all day. Been busy with preparations for the party. Did you try Carl or Damon?”

Don raked his hair in an awkward parody of his sister’s graceful gesture. “The office was the second place I called. Carl and Damon were in a meeting and couldn’t be disturbed. The secretary said Dad wasn’t with them.”

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Thursday's Opening Scene from Murder and Poisoned Tea is featured today Katherine and Robespierre find an organist for church #BWLAuthor #MFRWAuthor #Cozy mystery

 

On Groundhog day when Robespierre, my Maine Coon cat, jumped from his place on the window seat, one thought popped into my head.  Company.  Who?  After following him to the kitchen, I watched him push his bulky, brown and black body through the hinged opening at the bottom of the door.  Moments later I peered down the dimly lit stairwell.  Robespierre had sprawled in the center of the third step and blocked my visitor’s progress.

                “Good grief, Katherine, I hope he’s not planning to bite me again.”  Edward Potter, pastor of St. Stephen’s Episcopal Church, glared at the cat.  His voice had risen to a high pitch.  “Whatever do you feed him?  He’s ever so much bigger than Bitsy.”

                The temptation to say my pet fed on pastors was strong.  I refrained and fought to control a grin that threatened to blossom.  Teasing Edward usually results in a lecture delivered in an indignant voice.

                With an air of disdain, Robiesperre stretched.  His back rippled in a way I envy.  Then he slithered around Edward.

                When Edward reached the top of the steps, he turned and peered at the cat.  “He’s becoming more brazen.”

                “Only toward selected guests.  He ignores most people.”  I turned my head and Edward brushed my cheek with his lips.

                Edward is a dapper little man with an ear for gossip and a penchant for turning even the slightest event into a fiesta or a disaster.  He’s astute about church politics.  The coffers at St. Stephen’s are filled through his ability to cosset and cajole the elderly population of the church, mainly wealthy women.  I partially fit the category, being over sixty-five, and while not rich, I’m at least comfortable.

                When he entered the sunlit kitchen, the expression on his face announced a problem.  He walked into the living room.  Unlike most of my guests, he considered chats at the kitchen table for commoners.  In the living room, he perched on the edge of a Queen Anne chair, purchased years ago before antiques became the rage.  In the past twenty years, stores selling every manner of old things have spread plague-like in the business district of the Hudson River village where I live.

                “You’re tense.  How about a cup of mint tea?”

                “Not all the tranquilizers in the world will calm me.  It’s a disaster, a complete and utter tragedy.”  His hands fluttered.  The words rolled out like a sermon promising hell and damnation.  “How will we maintain the quality of the services?  Easter will be a disaster.”

                My forehead wrinkled.  What in the world had stirred him into this state?  The last time had been when one of the altar boys had spilled the communion wine.  Had there been a fire at the church?  A flood?  A plague?  The strident fire whistles had been silent for days.  What had occurred?  Knowing a full and dramatic scene would develop, I wanted mint tea.

                “I’ll heat the water.  Then you can tell me about this tragedy.”  Mint tea is my all-purpose remedy, calming nerves and stimulating the mind, bringing alertness or sleep.

                I retreated to the kitchen, filled the kettle and stuffed a silver ball with an assortment of dried mint leaves.  While the water boiled, I assembled the pottery mugs, sugar and spoons on a wooden tray.

                “Why will Easter be a problem?”  I set the tray on a Duncan Phyfe table.

                “We may have to cancel the season.”  He patted his thinning light brown hair.

                I swallowed a laugh.  “How can we cancel one of the main reasons for St. Stephen’s existence?”

                “Are you making fun of me?”  His voice rose in pitch.  “I’m absolutely serious.”  He accepted a mug.  “Mary’s husband has been transferred.  It’s a disaster.”

                I mentally sorted through all the Marys in the congregation and tried to decide which one’s leaving would cause Edward to fall apart.  Who had triggered the word of the day?  On another level, the need to giggle soared.  Perched on the edge of the chair and holding a tea cup with both hands, Edward looked like a child.

                “There are about twenty Marys at St. Stephen’s.  Which one do you mean?”

                “Mary Hensen, our organist.  What will our services be like without the organ and the choir?  Katherine, you have to help us until we find a replacement.”

                Twenty years ago I resigned my position as organist at St. Stephen’s.  My husband’s sudden death had left me with a son to raise and enough money to cover three years of expenses.  Once I finished my nursing course, my Sunday schedule had passed out of my control.

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