About the book
About the author
Born in Montreal and raised in Hudson, Quebec, Louise Carson studied music in Montreal and Toronto, played jazz piano, and sang in the chorus of the Canadian Opera Company. Her previous books include the literary mysteries The Cat Among Us and Executor, and the poetry collection A Clearing. Her poems have also been published coast to coast as well as in The Best Canadian Poetry 2013. She’s twice been short-listed in FreeFall Magazine ’s annual contest, and her poem “Plastic bucket” won a Manitoba Magazine Award for Prairie Fire. Louise has read her work in the Montreal area, Ottawa, Toronto, Saskatoon and New York City. She lives in rural Quebec, where she gardens, writes, and teaches music.
"And to my niece, Geraldine Coneybear, I leave my house, The Maples, and all the contents therein, except those previously mentioned, as well as the sum of fifty thousand dollars to assist her in its maintenance."
Gerry jerked upright. Andrew was shaking her hand as the other relatives crowded around. "Wow, Gerry! Fantastic! Good for you."
"Yes, Gerry. Lucky you." Margaret, Andrew's older sister, named for their aunt, loomed, her three glum-looking sons flanking her. Gerry had no more than a second to get the impression of grinding teeth before her Aunt Mary, Maggie's sister and Margaret's mother, replaced her.
"Gerry!" She threw her arms around her niece then held her at arm's length. "More like Deborah every day! She was so glamorous, your mother. That red hair and creamy skin. And that fabulous figure." Here she raked Gerry head to toe with a critical glance.
Her husband, Geoff looked embarrassed, but then, Gerry reflected, he'd had a lot of practice. "How are you, Gerry? Good to see you." He pecked her on the cheek. "Are you surprised to be Maggie's heir?"
"Totally, Uncle Geoff," Gerry replied, rubbing at the lipstick she knew Aunt Mary had pressed onto the side of her nose. She leaned forward and quietly asked, "Did I get it all?"
Unfortunately, her query coincided with a lull in the general conversation.
"Weren't you paying attention, Gerry?" Margaret said coldly. "You get it all. Everything. The house, land, furniture, the paintings." She seemed to choke on this last word, and everyone stood still, very embarrassed.
Gerry, now fumbling for a tissue in her pocket, replied, "I meant the lipstick Auntie left on my nose. Have I removed all of it?"
“Author Louise Carson has a cozy that hasn’t been drizzled with maple syrup. The murder is off
stage but the motive is neatly woven into an entertaining story laced with small town family
foibles, revealing commentary about art…” >>
— Don Graves Hamilton Spectator, Goodreads