Mix in the usual challenges posed by her resident ghost and her cat, and Hetty is hard pressed to keep up. But our amateur sleuth likes her life in downstate Illinois, and she is determined to thrive here. To that end, Hetty grabs a deep breath, turns her thoughts to the killer, and throws herself into her work.
Read a sample:
I’d hate to know when trouble is headed my way. Being blissfully clueless protects me from experiencing life’s meaner moments until they actually arrive. And so it was on this day.
It was a Thursday. I was seated in my favorite chair with knitting in hand. Blackie, my cat, lay in his basket next to my feet. Andrew, my resident ghost, hovered near the window. He was watching the day’s heavy rainfall and rattling off ways to improve Blackie’s life.
Yeah like he cared diddly squat about my poor cat.
Andrew turned to me and started in again on his list of improvements. “You really must put Blackie out at night. It isn’t good for a cat to be locked up indoors all the time. Besides, he’d get more exercise that way. That would help with his weight.”
Blackie lifted his head and glared at Andrew.
I pulled more yarn free from the skein. “That’s sheer nonsense. Blackie isn’t the least bit fat.”
“Well… if you’d look at him objectively, you’d see he’s not exactly skinny, either.”
I shook my head. “The vet says cats should always be kept indoors. He claims it solves most of the problems people have with cats.”
Andrew scoffed. “I suspect your cat could stand up for himself quite well out in the wilds or anyplace else for that matter. He’s not nearly as helpless as you’d like to believe.”
Andrew was a recent addition to our household. He had appeared in my living room shortly after my move here. He was the ghostly remains of a young man I’d loved during my college days. I’d hoped to marry him some day, but he’d died in a tragic auto accident before that could happen.