On my blog this week, I’m happy to welcome back author, Penny Petersen.
Penny Clover Petersen began writing her first novel at fifty-nine on a dare from her husband, Tom. A life-long resident of the Washington DC area, they now reside in Bowie Maryland.
In addition to writing, she enjoys spending time with her family, refurbishing old furniture, collecting stories for the ‘family cookbook’, and savoring new cocktail recipes.
She loves historic homes and is a docent at Riversdale Mansion in Riverdale, MD. Penny is currently at work on her third Daisy&Rose mystery.
Roses Are Dead, My Love
In Roses Are Dead, My Love, my second Daisy&Rose Mystery, sisters Daisy and Rose Forrest find themselves knee deep in the middle of a sinister blackmail scheme. Under the spell of a June heatwave, Old Towne seems to be cursed. Rose is attacked in her own home, and their beloved dog is brutally duct taped and his doghouse goes up in flames. When they find the postmistress bludgeoned to death, the sisters know they have to get to the bottom of it. With their extraordinary mother, Angela, at their side, the ladies take on the hunt for an invaluable baseball card, a malicious prankster, and a blackmailing killer.
Here is a short excerpt:
As Daisy and her mother, Angela, sat in the sunroom eating mushroom and green olive pizza and watching the dogs playing in the yard, Daisy filled her mother’s glass with a frothy orange concoction.
Angela took a sip. “Mmm, very tasty. What did you call this?”
Daisy smiled and said, “I call it a Midnight Marauder. It suits this evening’s plan.”
Angela’s eyes lit up. “What have you got in mind?”
“Well, as I said, I do trust Rose’s instincts about Peter – at least about his not attacking her. And I trust Bill.”
Angela snorted, “You most certainly do not!”
“His police instinct – I trust his police instinct. He’s positive that Peter couldn’t have had time to get back from Baltimore, kill Peggy and return in time for a seven o’clock seminar. Who in God’s name schedules a seminar for seven in the morning after a cocktail party the night before? These academics must be real masochists. But something about that man is strange. Why would he spend so many nights in that bookstore when he has that beautiful house downtown?”
“To be near Rose?”
“He hardly ever sees Rose when he’s there. No, he’s up to something and I want to know what. So, I thought we’d take this excellent opportunity, while he and Rose are both occupied for the entire evening, to check out his attic!”
Angela clapped her hands like a little kid. “Super! I happen to have suitable late night attire right upstairs.”
At eleven, Daisy was standing on a stepstool at the back of her closet pulling out an old tote bag. She checked the contents. WD-40, screwdrivers, kitchen tongs, a large black scarf, and two flashlights were right where she left them after her last midnight caper. She tested the flashlights, replaced the batteries in one of them, and said to Angela, “It’s all good. Let’s go.”
They stood at the window and watched Ron Tucker walk his dogs past their house and waited ten minutes until he walked back on his way home. Then Daisy, ‘burglar bag’ over her shoulder, and Angela slipped quietly out of the side door and up the driveway.
Just as they got to the street the door of Clover Tavern opened and a group of people came out laughing and talking loudly as they walked to their cars.
“Rats! Maybe we should wait until the Tavern closes,” whispered Daisy as she backed down the driveway. “People can see Peter’s gate from the Tavern door.”
“Not to worry. We’ll just go around back and hop Mrs. Hudson’s fence. Then we can slip across the street and go down the alley next to Marc’s place. We can sneak into Peter’s yard from the other side. There aren’t any lights back there and nobody can see the back of the book store anyway.”
Daisy was impressed. “You didn’t just think of this, did you, Mother?”
“I like to have contingency plans. When you told me about this evening’s scheme I sort of scouted out all the routes in my head. So let’s go for it. I mean, what’s the worst that could happen? If someone stops us, we’ll just say we’re out for a walk.”
Daisy looked at her mother standing in the dark wearing black tennis shoes, black leggings, black gloves, and a black jacket with the hood pulled low over her face. “Somehow, I just don’t think the police would buy that. You look like a second story man.”
“Pish. I just like to dress for the occasion.”
“Exactly my point!”
Nice to meet you, Penny. Sounds like you’re having fun with the dare.
Love your title, and I enjoyed the excerpt. Thank you so much for sharing about the book.
Penny,
Writing a book on a dare? That made me smile, remembering how, years ago, I took the test for our local police department on a dare and I passed. The difference between our two situations is that I chose not to pursue that career while you did. Aren’t you glad you took that dare?
I love your title, “Roses are Dead, my Love.”