A Misty Mourning

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MURDER SETS SEED by Janis Harrison

ADVENT OF DYING by Sister Carol Anne O'Marie

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A MISTY MOURNING by Rett MacPherson

 

St. Martin's Paperbacks
is also proud to present
these mystery classics by
AGATHA CHRISTIE

 

THE SITTAFORD MYSTERY

MURDER IS EASY

SPARKLING CYANIDE

TOWARDS ZERO

P
RAISE FOR
RETT M
AC
PHERSON

A COMEDY OF HEIRS

“Plenty of entertaining characters, and MacPherson skillfully connects the family's many subplots . . . A heartrending tale of family pride and the cover-ups to keep it intact.”

—
Publisher's Weekly
(starred review)

“Well paced. . . filled with intriguing characters and fascinating details about genealogy and quilting, and adorned with the picturesque atmosphere of a Mississippi Valley winter.”

—
Booklist

A VEILED ANTIQUITY

“A nicely evoked countryside, the fascinating details of a genealogical investigation, and an unusual protagonist make MacPherson a storyteller to watch.”

—
Contra Costa Times

“Breezy and fun. . . (MacPherson) pioneers the excellent fictional entrée of genealogical research.”

—
Kirkus Reviews

“MacPherson once again displays her mastery of the cozy form, adroitly mixing charming characters (both new and old), a plot steeped in family drama, plenty of humor, and just enough grit to keep the story grounded in the new world.”

—
Booklist

“MacPherson has again shown herself an original and humorous storyteller. She is generous with her wit, and her descriptions of the landscape of Appalachia and the people who live there are especially evocative.”

—
Publishers Weekly

“Unexpected and often amusing, another fine outing for Torie O'Shea and the oddballs she attracts without effort.”

—
St. Louis Post-Dispatch

 

 

 

S
T
. M
ARTIN'S
P
APERBACKS
T
ITLES
BY
R
ETT
M
AC
P
HERSON

 

A MISTY MOURNING
A COMEDY OF HEIRS
FAMILY SKELETONS
A VEILED ANTIQUITY

R
ETT
M
AC
P
HERSON

 

 

St. Martin's Paperbacks

 

 

 

 

A MISTY MOURNING

Copyright © 2001 by Rett MacPherson.

Excerpt from
Killing Cousins
copyright © 2001 by Rett MacPherson.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews. For information address St. Martin's Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, NY 10010.

Library of Congress Catalog Card Number: 00-040256

ISBN: 0-312-97784-0

Printed in the United States of America

St. Martin's Press hardcover edition / September 2000
St. Martin's Paperbacks edition / December 2001

St. Martin's Paperbacks are published by St. Martin's Press,
175 Fifth Avenue, New York, NY 10010.

10  9  8  7  6  5  4  3  2  1

This book is dedicated to
my father,
T
RUMAN
“B
UD
” A
LLEN
,
who taught me to question everything.

The author would like to thank the following for all of their invaluable help.

 

The Alternate Historians: Tom Drennan, Laurell K. Hamilton, Debbie Millitello, Marella Sands, Sharon Shinn (for all of your extra help on this particular book, especially), and Mark Sumner. We'll miss you, Nancy!

 

My editor Kelley Ragland. My agent Michele Rubin at Writers House, who is positive enough for both of us.

 

My family: Joe, for never being upset that we don't live on any normal kind of schedule. Rebekah, Elizah, and Dillon for sharing me with a whole other world.

 

Thank you to Dr. Michael Derosa for keeping Dillon healthy and Dr. Thomas Shaner for delivering him.

 

Thank you to Jean Erickson for single-handedly multiplying my reading audience by about a hundred!

 

And thank you to the fantastic group of fans at the University of Missouri bookstore in Columbia, Missouri, for inviting me to their wonderful Murder on Mondays!

A
Mist
Y
Mournin
G

Y
ou know you're pregnant when the only towel in the house that will wrap around your ever-enlarging midsection is your husband's Batman beach towel. Taking a shower in general is a fairly precarious task. And forget shaving altogether. I could barely put socks on, much less shave my legs—proof that the state of pregnancy was invented long before personal hygiene.

“I'm taking your beach towel,” I said to Rudy as I shoved it into my suitcase.

“That's okay. I don't think I'll be doing much swimming while you're gone,” he said. He made an exaggerated sad face. Even the ends of his brown eyes turned downward. “How long did you say you were going to be gone again?”

“Should be a week,” I said. “Oh, please. Don't give me that Stan Laurel face.”

“But I'll miss you,” he said.

“Yeah, right. You're going to miss me getting up fifteen times in the middle of the night? You'll finally get a decent night's sleep,” I said. I went over to the closet and pulled out all the maternity clothes I had, which wasn't many, took them off the hangers, and put them into the suitcase on top of Rudy's beach towel.

“Well, at least you're taking your grandmother,” he said. He stood with his arms crossed on the opposite side of our bed wearing his plaid sleeping pants and a Samuel Adams beer T-shirt. His hair still stood on end. It was, after all, only six in the morning.

I'm not sure exactly why Rudy thought that if I took my grandmother on my trip to West Virginia no ill would befall me, but he did. Aside from his cinematic exaggeration, he really did look worried about me.

It was June and I was due with our third child in August. I was thirty-one weeks along, and so I had a good two months to go before having to deliver this little O'Shea. While you're pregnant, everybody talks about how big your belly is and, oh, what a big baby you're carrying. Then it comes out and suddenly those same people can't get over how tiny the baby is. It makes no sense, but then, most of the time I think I could give Mother Nature a few lessons on how to run things. Just for the record, stretch marks would be nonexistent.