I swallowed my denial. Even LouElla wouldn’t have believed it.
She pulled an envelope from her purse and handed it to me. I slid my finger under the flap, withdrew a piece of paper, unfolded it, and squinted at it in the dark. Some sort of form. In the next second, brightly illuminated by a burst of white chrysanthemums, I saw that I held a discharge certificate in the name of LouElla Van Schuyler from the Upper Shore Mental Health Center.
“I carry it with me everywhere.” LouElla lifted her face to the night sky. Sparks rained down on us like spangled confetti. “Virginia’s the crazy one, not me. And I have a paper to prove it.”
Acknowledgments
So many wonderful people helped me while I was writing this book that I hardly know where to begin with my thank-yous.
To my family-my husband, Barry, and my daughters, Laura Geyer and Sarah Glass-you were always there when I needed you. Really, I couldn’t have done it without you.
To my sisters-Susan Woythaler, Alison Jacobs, Deborah Kelchner, and Katherine Carstens-who will know why.
To friends and family who gave me a warm bed, hot meals, and a quiet place to write while I toured-Alison and Joe Jacobs, Susan and Saul Woythaler, Betty Lou and David Walsman, Terri Ryburn-LaMonte, and Elizabeth Talley-I can come out and play now.
To Chief Wayne M. Bradley and Captain Robert A. Edler, Jr., of the Chestertown Police Department, Chestertown, Maryland; and to Corporal Arthur Griffies of Maryland State Police Barracks “J” in Annapolis, Maryland, for cheerfully answering my questions. If I got it wrong, it’s entirely my fault, not theirs.
To Suzanne Fischer of Chestertown, Maryland, for so generously inviting me into her home and for allowing me to put a body in her bathtub.
To Janice Gary, Executive Director, and the staff of First Night Annapolis-especially Jan “Red” Adkins-for their courtesy and for letting me paw through their archives.
To Luci Zahray, “The Poison Lady,” who proves every day how dangerous a home can be!
To S. Brent Morris, Charles Mylander, and Chuck Hanna, because I’ve never been very good at math: Thanks 106.
To Jackie Cantor-editor, advocate, and friend, above and beyond-and to Abby Zidle, a rare gem.
To my agent, Jimmy Vines, for believing in me.
To my writers’ groups-Sujata Massey, John Mann, Janice McLane, and Karen Diegmueller in Baltimore, and Janet Benrey, Trish Marshall, Mary Ellen Hughes, Ray Flynt, Bonnie Settle, Caroline Buppert, Christiane Carlson-Thies, and Sherriel Mattingly in Annapolis-for tough love. Sherriel, if you should ever tire of librarianship, I am sure there’s a job waiting for you at Hallmark Cards.
To Linda Sprenkle, fellow adventurer, location scout, and dear friend.
To Barbara Parker, friend, feng shui consultant, and Web maven, extraordinaire.
(http://hometown.aol.com/mardtal/homepage.htm).
And to Kate Charles and Deborah Crombie-dearest of friends, confidantes, and advisers-the reason why ten-cents-a-minute long-distance services had to be invented.
About the Author
Marcia Talley’s first Hannah Ives novel, Sing It to Her Bones, won the Malice Domestic Grant in 1998 and was nominated for an Agatha Award as Best First Novel of 1999. Unbreathed Memories, the second in the series, appeared in 2000. Both were Featured Alternates of the Mystery Guild. She is also the editor of a collaborative serial novel, Naked Came the Phoenix, where she joins twelve bestselling women authors to pen a tongue-in-cheek mystery about murder in an exclusive health spa. Her short stories have appeared in magazines and collections.
Marcia lives in Annapolis, Maryland, with her husband Barry, a professor at the U.S. Naval Academy. When she isn’t writing, she spends her time traveling or sailing. Marcia and her husband recently returned from the Bahamas, where they lived for six months on Troubadour, their thirty-seven-foot sailboat.
