About the Book

When Izzy gets a killer dress for her birthday, she isn’t expecting to accessorize it with murder…

It’s 1958 in the cozy coastal town of Twin Oaks and amateur sleuth Isabelle Walsh is armed with a fresh perspective, two years after tragedy strikes. The first stop on her journey back to joy is the best little dress shop in town—introduced to her by best friend and fashion fiend, Ava Russell.

Izzy falls in love with the store and its style. So, when the boutique is marred by murder, Izzy wants to help. But with more suspects to choose from than a spring collection, she isn’t sure where to start.

Can Izzy unravel the twisted truth or will she become the victim of a deadly trend?

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Excerpt

Time goes by faster as we age. I read that somewhere, but it never made any sense--until recently. My upcoming birthday seemed to be approaching much more quickly than my last one had. Dammit. How was that possible? Looking around the empty house, I wondered if it was simply a matter of having too much time to think. I no longer basked in the peaceful quiet my house provided. I missed the loud chaos--something I never thought I could years back. Now that my kids were teenagers, they weren’t around as much to cause a ruckus. I needed to have a talk with them. Their growing interests outside of the home were starting to make me think about unpleasant things like aging. Summer camp was proving especially difficult in this regard. It was hard to believe my kids had grown so independent. I looked forward to their return already, and they had only been gone four days. Another week and a half was sure to send me to the brink. Perhaps it was time to consider canine companionship.

It had been four years since Frank’s passing. They say everyone deals with grief differently. I hid away and clutched at the solace my children provided by their very existence. It took a long time to unclench that grip. At the beginning, it was as if I was holding on for my own dear life. But slowly it released as the range of emotions I experienced became less intense--less raw. Joy began to trickle back into my life, and I knew that was it. Besides, forty was only a few years away. And, as my best friend Ava had begun to remind me, I was still here. It was time to get on with life. Frank would be forever with me in my heart and soul, and that comforted me beyond words. I took a big swig of coffee, allowed myself to sit quietly with my tidal grief, then shook my head to rid it of the approaching sadness I felt creeping in when I indulged too long.

I looked out the window onto my empty suburban crescent and changed my focus onto my immediate circumstance. I was up, dressed, and styled at an indecently early hour on account of my aforementioned oldest, dearest, and most exasperating best friend. And…she was late. Rarely could Ava Russell make it anywhere on time. But she was due to be here fifteen minutes ago, and that was allowing for her usual lateness. Considering the brunette beauty only had to get her long legs about three blocks from her front door to mine, I could feel the little patience I had slowly oozing out of my body.

I tried to force my furrowed brow to smooth with my index finger, silently cursing Ava for adding to the accelerating aging process by inciting this early onset of wrinkles--the idea of which was first prompted by her regular commentary of what she called my overly expressive expressions. Luckily, my frown soon lifted as I spotted my kindred spirit making her way down the street. As she came closer into view, my nose pressed against the window like a magnet to metal in an attempt to get a better look. Something was up--my usually proud and polished companion had transformed from a perfect rose to a wilted weed. The mystery was solved as I spotted Ava’s footwear. Sky-high stilettos left no doubt as to why she was struggling to strut. I watched her pull each shoe off angrily and finish her walk in stocking feet.

A grin spread across my face as I opened the door. I attempted to calm it as Ava laboriously dragged herself into my living room and flopped onto the sofa. She wasn’t able to acknowledge me at first, instead puffing out her breaths one after the other, as if having completed a marathon.

Her crumpled figure still held her beautiful black heels in one hand as she looked up at me warily through her thick black mascara.

She pursed her lips. “Water,” she whispered.

I nodded in assent and fetched a tall glass filled to the brim. She lapped it up like a thirsty young pup might do after a jaunt at the park. Ava finished her drink and lay back, finally having the opportunity to catch her breath. She looked up at me and cringed. “What is so damned funny, Izzy?”

I felt my eyes widen and clasped at my chest innocently. “I am a picture of serenity. Calm and humourless.” I put my hand on her forehead to check her temperature sympathetically.

She playfully swatted it away. “You think I can’t see that stifled goofy smile? Your eyes are practically giggling right out of their sockets.”

I gave up my attempt to deny it and allowed my grin to be free.

About the Author

Lynn McPherson has had a myriad of jobs, from running a small business to teaching English across the globe. She has travelled the world solo, where her daring spirit has led her to jump out of airplanes, dive with sharks, and learn she would never master a surfboard. Lynn served on the Board of Directors for Crime Writers of Canada from 2018-2021. She is a member of Sisters in Crime and International Thriller Writers.

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