OK, forget the magnolias. It's the end of December, after all, and frost silvers South Carolina's Low Country. But Pinckney Plantation is still open for visitors who want to see the pride of Indigo Island. The old house claims a long history-or so says the script the tour guides go by.
What the script leaves out are the doors that apparently unlock themselves, the flickering lights, the sound of ghostly footsteps. And the dead body.
The corpse is a new addition. Who is he? And what was he doing at Pinckney? And did he fall, or was he pushed?
These are among the questions that puzzle the self-appointed detective trio of cousins thrown together for the holidays. Revelations about ruthless developers, secretive landowners, and family scandals are interspersed with hilarious samples of Southern manners before the cousins finally piece together the puzzle.
Author Bio: Caroline Cousins is a pseudonym for Meg Herndon, her sister Gail Greer, and Nancy Pate, their one-and-a-half first cousin (their mamas are sisters and their daddies are first cousins). Meg, a former elementary-school teacher, and Gail, a floral designer and former plantation tour guide, live in Mount Pleasant, South Carolina. Nancy, book critic for the Orlando Sentinel, lives in Orlando, Florida.
|Publisher:||John F Blair, Publisher|
|Product dimensions:||5.70(w) x 9.00(h) x 0.90(d)|
Read an Excerpt
Fiddle Dee Death:
Miss Augusta teetered on the vintage high heels she insisted on wearing and leaned back against the car, obviously flustered. With her dyed red hair escaping in wisps from the French twist she always wore and her blue winter coat, she looked like that poster you see everywhere, the photo of the angry bluebird, its chest and feathers all puffed out. Taller and thinner, though.
"What man?" she said, marching toward the house. "How bad's he hurt? Where is he? I need to see him. Where's Will?" She looked up at the porch, where one of the EMS techs had just come out the door. "Young man. Put out that cigarette right now. There's no smoking at Pinckney. And no, don't you dare throw that butt in the camellia bushes! Put it out in the drive and then put it in your pocket."
Frowning, Miss Augusta turned her attention back to us. "Lindsey, I didn't see you. How are you, dear?" I got a strong whiff of Chanel No. 5 as she gave me a brisk hug and kissed the air near my ear. I could feel the knobs of old bones beneath the coat. She stubbornly continued up the brick path, leaving Mam, Cissy, Jimmy, and myself to trail behind her, a ragtag militia cowed by its commander.
"Miss Augusta, I don't really think . . ."
"Margaret Ann, if some stranger has hurt himself on my property, it is my duty to see that he is taken care of. Even if it does mean my insurance rates will likely go up. Cissy, where did he slip? In the front hall? I told Marietta she put too much wax on those floors last time. And with this rain we had this afternoon. Were his shoes wet? I bet his shoes were wet. Hardwood floors and slick soles, why you're just asking for a sprained ankle. Didn't he see the doormat?"
"Miss Augusta, I think we best tell you that the man appears to be seriously injured."
That was an understatement, although I had to admire Mam's handling of the situation.
Still, Miss Augusta seemed to pick up on the strain in Mam's voice.
"Margaret Ann, what is it you're not saying? Dear Lord, tell me a tourist hasn't died at Pinckney Plantation."
Table of Contents
Most Helpful Customer Reviews
um well where do i begin with this book? If you want a really light book to read then pick this one up for a round but if you're thinking about any brain activity during the duration then don't even bother. This is just one of those books that you pick up and read and think 'what was that? did anything even happen' and thats where i would promptly answer 'well no'. Nothing happens in this book..all the characters 'the cousins' just sit around at talk about all this junk and by the time they actaully figured out who murdered the dude you just don't even care. Ms. Cousins definatley seems to try to hard to put in the 'southern touch' and it kinda makes the book look ridiculous at times....Overall a light a easy book to read if ya wanna read something
Lindsey Fox is the most colorless mystery heroine I have ever encountered. She is hopelessly overshadowed by talkative cousins, Mam and Bonnie. Lindsey also lacks any convincing emotional depth in her romantic quandary over whether to become involved with Will or Luis Rivera. The authors would do well to beef up Lindsey's character and cut out a good deal of the weak humor and mindless Southern prattle. A little goes a long way, believe me. What Fiddle Dee Death has going for it is an interesting and well-described location. I found Indigo Island appealing and wouldn't mind another visit there if a second mystery novel by Caroline Cousins improves upon the first.
Did you ever go to a movie that was acclaimed by critics only to mumble to yourself, 'Why on earth did I pay to see that?'. You shake your head and wonder where do critics come up with these acclaims. That is precisely how I felt reading this murder mystery novel. It was hard enough to figure out the characters, I still don't really know who 'I said' is! There were so many characters in and out of the story I got dizzy. Needless to say the characters are less than one dimensional. The writing is a novelists nightmare. There are no emotions involved. All you get are Cissy said, Margaret Ann 'said', I said, he said, blah, blah, blah, for about fifty characters. If I see one more said, I'll scream. I couldn't really find a plot other than a murder and I'm not certain who was murdered. I should read it again, but NO THANK YOU! HOW DO REVIEWS AND CRITICS COME UP WITH THEIR REVIEWS? DO THEY READ THE BOOKS?