Excerpt!
Rather than barge uninvited into the classroom looking for her, Gabby and I bided our time and hung out in the lobby. I shifted from one foot to the other while Gabby perused the business cards pinned to a brand-new combination whiteboard and corkboard.
“When I come back with that vase, I’ll bring a few business cards to tack up here.”
“Great idea!” I rifled through my purse until I found a couple of cards promoting Oldies & Goodies and Cats & Their Cradle. I affixed them to the cork and smiled. Part of me wondered whether Sam would take them down before anyone ever saw them.
Still no Margo. Did she not hear the bell when we entered a few minutes ago? Maybe not over Ol’ Blue Eyes. I considered writing a message on the whiteboard. I picked through the pens in the Tremont Regency Hotel mug on the desk, but there didn’t appear to be any of those dry-erase markers.
“Where could she be?” Gabby asked.
“Probably in the back. Should we check?”
I gently opened the glass door to the main classroom. A rush of crisp air reminded me how we’d kept the temperature in the low sixties so the students wouldn’t get overheated. The smell of fresh-cut grass suddenly wafted over me. My nose recognized dance floor wax, forcing me to stifle a sneeze.
The same song we heard when we walked into the lobby still played. Must be on a continuous loop. I listened closely. Ah, Frank was singing “Witchcraft.” An appropriate theme for the day.
The walls were painted a creamy shade of white. Floor-to-ceiling mirrors lined one wall and a row of barres ran parallel to the floor. The mirrors reflected framed images on the opposite wall. I turned to examine them up close. I walked along the wall, studying and touching each gently. Definitely Sam and Margo in their younger years.
This egotistical display was so unlike the studio Paul, and then I, owned. Our walls were proudly adorned with photographs of the young dancers who graced our ballroom.
Where are those pictures? Why didn’t they ask if I wanted them? What else did they keep from me?
“Margo?” I called.
Silence.
At the far end of the room, there was a royal purple floor-to-ceiling drape pulled closed across the width of the ballroom. As I walked toward it, I waved toward Gabby. “I’m gonna check back here.”
I noticed a universal restroom to my right. I motioned to Gabby. “You check in there.”
Then I drew back the curtain. “Never mind. Found her!” I cried out.
Venus Bixby is ready for a fresh start. With green streaks in her hair and “Rock the Shamrock” polish on her nails, she’s sold her dance studio and set her sights on a glamorous second act: traveling the world to recover stolen art. But before she can book her first flight, she stumbles over the new studio owner’s dead body behind a drawn curtain.
In a town like Chatham Crossing, secrets don’t stay buried and gossip travels faster than the morning coffee line. Suddenly Venus is a suspect in a very public investigation. As she scrambles to clear her name, she uncovers a troubling secret from her late husband’s past: he purchased an emerald ring she’s never seen—and now it’s missing.
When a string of burglaries rattles the town, Venus begins to suspect the murder and the stolen emerald are connected. With rumors swirling, neighbors whispering, and her passport dreams slipping, she’ll need sharp instincts—and a dash of Irish luck—to catch the real culprit.
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Valerie Taylor lives in Connecticut and considers herself a typical "average Jane." She might remind you of the reclusive neighbor who fancies herself a novelist. Unlike many of her peers whom she admires, she does NOT have a degree in literature. But she is the award-winning author of the romantic comedy trilogy: WHAT'S NOT SAID, WHAT'S NOT TRUE, and WHAT'S NOT LOST. The roots of those three novels, as well as the books in the Venus Bixby Mystery series—A WHALE OF A MURDER and SWITCHED AT DEATH and A JEWEL OF A CRIME—most likely took hold during her early years watching Carol Burnett, Jack Benny, Red Skelton, and The Twilight Zone. Her love of oldies music stems from hours listening and dancing to Elvis Presley and The Beatles, and being in the Bobby Darin fan club.
