Sugarwood Mysteries, a great new series by Diane Bator

 

Have you heard about the Sugarwood Mysteries?

               

Audra Clemmings, owner of Stitch’n’Time, loves crafts and a good mystery, which often gets her into hot water. Set in the fictional town of Sugarwood, Ontario, there's never a dull moment between local developers, witches, and quilters.

 An odd combination? 

You haven't met Audra, Merilee, Miss Lavinia, or the Sewing Circle! Let me introduce you!

Excerpt from Dead Man's Doll

Chapter One

Thursday, November 24 

Sugarwood, Ontario, half an hour from Lake Huron, was known for two things:  maple syrup and the Christmas tree lighting festival that always went off with a variety of creative challenges, yet never failed to impress the semi-enthusiastic crowd. This year, fluffy snowflakes fell over the town making Sugarwood look like a Christmas card photo. They’d help make the event even more magical. As long as we didn’t end up finding a body on a bench like we did during the town’s Halloween bash.

“Do you think we have enough decorations for tomorrow?” Merilee Rutherford asked, making me jump. My partner both in Stitch’n’Time and crime solving chuckled. She’d circled November twenty-fifth with a fat, red marker weeks ago.

Where other Ontario towns held their Santa Claus parades and tree lightings a week or two earlier, Sugarwood preferred to do the whole shebang one month before Christmas. No matter which day of the week the twenty-fifth fell on. Call it one of the quirks that gave us charm and created a nightmare for those who worked out of town.

“I think Santa would feel right at home in our workshop. All that’s missing are the milk and cookies.” I grinned, gazing around the store at the large shiny balls that hung from the ceiling.

Strands of garland draped over the top of every cupboard filled with threads and every cabinet stacked with fabric. A plastic, four-foot tall, green tree that once belonged to my dad glistened in the front window. We’d spent a couple of hours wrapping assorted sizes of empty boxes to pile underneath then added needlepoint kits, fabric swatches, and sewing kits to show off our inventory and attract customers.

“Good idea,” she said. “We can put them out for the sewing circle next Wednesday.”

Drake, my Golden Retriever-slash-Husky with massive puppy paws, raised his head as though he expected cookies to magically appear.

“How about the Wednesday before Christmas?” I asked.

“Okay,” she grumbled. “I’m going to run to the bakery to grab lunch, lattes, and cookies.”

“Santa will have to bring me a whole new wardrobe at this rate.” I tucked a thumb inside the waistband of my pants which were getting snug and it wasn’t even December. I had half a mind to tell her to hold the latte. No way was I giving up cookies a month before Christmas. In the end, I kept my mouth shut.

Once she left the store, Drake returned his full attention to the heat vent and took a nap while I strung one last string of lights around the inside of the front window. I swayed to the soft Christmas music we’d discovered on YouTube that morning almost forgetting a couple times that I was on a stepladder.

Winter was off to a snowy start, I’d taken to crossing my fingers whenever I thought about the tree lighting tomorrow. Usually we got this much snow in January and February, not so much in November. I hoped the ceremony and carol sing would go off without a hitch. I could deal with spilled hot chocolate, but not another body.

I shuddered as the gloom brightened with an abrupt swirl of blue and red lights from a passing police car. Since there was no way anyone could speed on Main Street given the current slick conditions, I had to assume the police were on their way to an accident.

Drake stretched, doing a downward dog before he ambled toward the door.

“Do you need to go out?” I asked, holding the top of the three-step ladder as I descended.

Rather than paw at the glass, he sat and yawned.

“Good to know it’s not an emergency. I’ll take you out when Merilee gets back.”

Less than a minute later, she bustled through the front door carrying a cardboard tray and a paper bag. Her head and shoulders were coated with feathery snowflakes. Drake blocked her path with a string of drool seeping from one corner of his mouth.

“The weather’s getting worse,” she said. “This snow would be perfect for the tree lighting tomorrow,” she said, stomping snow off her high-heeled boots. “The bakery’s deserted, so Hilda threw in a free handful of cookies.”

I chuckled. “Ahh. He smelled cookies. What a surprise.”

Closing the front door behind her, I stared out the frosty glass at the snow. The meteorologist had promised—the man even pinky swore on air!—the snow would hold off until later tonight. I should’ve known better than to believe a tall, handsome man who mispronounced precipitation on a daily basis. Differently every time, too. While I itched to go down to the Toronto studio to teach him how to say it right, Merilee figured it was part of his charm. She figured he pronounced it wrong because he wanted to be the sportscaster. People never blamed the sportscaster when their team lost, but woe to the meteorologist who got the forecast wrong.

“Looks like you’ll be walking home in puffy flakes of snow.” Merilee leaned over my shoulder as a cab pulled up in front of Stitch’n’Time.

“Drake will be happy. He can eat as many snowflakes as he wants.” I glanced toward the counter where my eighty pound dog sat licking his massive paws. “Rex is supposed to be out of town today. I hope he and Andrew changed their plans to stay in the office. Or make it back to town safely.”

Merilee handed me a latte as I watched the cab driver emerge. “Figures it would snow like crazy the one day this week I have to pick Tony up from work. It’ll take a few minutes to warm up the truck. I can give you and Drake a ride home. It won’t be fun walking home in a blizzard.”

“It’s not exactly a blizzard, I can still see the real estate office across the street,” I told her. “Walking will be more fun than loading Drake into your truck. Riding in cars isn’t his idea of fun. Last time we took him to the vet, he howled all the way there and all the way home.”

“I would, too. Good thing he loves the truck. He wanted to stick his head out the window last time, but kept hitting his nose on the glass.”

“You’re right. It’s the vet he doesn’t like.”

She chuckled. “You think? Last time he was there he lost part of his manhood.”

The cab driver opened the trunk to remove a walker as an elderly lady pushed open the back door. Judy Wells, our friend Charity’s mom and a vocal part of our Wednesday afternoon sewing circle, emerged. She’d finally resorted to taking cabs since she could no longer drive nor walk as well as she used to.

Guilt seized me when she leaned on the walker and shuffled out of the way of the cab door. “I should go clear the sidewalk.”

Merilee caught me by the upper arm. “You’re not well enough to be shoveling snow. I’ll clear a path while you unpack our lunch.”

“I feel fine,” I insisted.

“You have cancer, remember? You’re tired and have bags under your eyes big enough to fit my entire wardrobe—and that’s saying something. You’re also still green, although it’s a much nicer shade today. More of a soft avocado.” She patted my shoulder. “You hold down the fort. I’ll shovel the snow.”

Breast cancer. The words still clawed their way into my soul and ate my Christmas spirit away in nibbles whenever they came up. Over the past couple of weeks, I’d blinked back more tears than Hoover Dam held water and stitched most of the stocking for Drake in one hour increments just to keep my hands busy while Rex was away at work. I will still awaiting more test results, but the doctor had already referred me to an oncologist. Just in case.

While Merilee went to get the shovel, I turned to see how far Judy had progressed. She used kind of a lift-and-lean method to inch her way toward the dimly lit curio-slash-alternative treatment shop two doors over where Miss Lavinia created salves and potions for her patients who suffered from a wide variety of ailments. Some she used on miniature replicas of her clients. Voodoo dolls to the rest of us.

Miss Lavinia wasn’t a certified physician, more like a witch. The whole town saw the voodoo dolls she’d placed in her front window on Halloween. Most people thought they were cute. I knew better. I’d discovered her massive collection around Halloween and still had nightmares.

I was happy my father’s doll and mine were safe in embroidery thread boxes in my closet at home. Somehow my father’s doll had ended up in an old box of decorations at Halloween. Miss Lavinia returned mine when I saw it in her window, but she’d kept Rex’s likeness to give him further top secret treatments. Some days that bothered me more than normal on days where my husband drove me crazy. The ones where I wanted to beg her to loan me his doll.

“Wish me luck.” Merilee brushed past me still bundled in her designer winter parka with a bright yellow shovel in one hand.

I was surprised when Drake nudged my hand with his nose. “You must be desperate if you want out now. It’s cold, your least favourite thing.”

Cold and snowy meant I’d turn the fireplace on once we got home and spend the evening working on the Christmas stocking I’d started this fall. It also meant Drake would curl up in front of said fireplace for the evening and sleep.

When my phone pinged, both Drake and I jumped turning toward the counter. I took one last glance at Judy trudging through the snow before I checked the text message, crossing my fingers it was from Rex who was more than likely working late tonight.

Or had a dinner meeting.

Or was stuck out of town after a meeting with a client.

Tonight’s message was, “Meetings in Toronto. Be home tomorrow. Don’t wait up.”

“What a surprise,” I told Drake. “Looks like it’s just you and me again. What should we have for dinner tonight?”

To my chagrin, he was already gnawing on a lovely skein of red, green, and white yarn with silver thread woven through it. I grabbed the rest before he could polish it off. Cleaning up after him was never dull. The snow in our backyard was covered in bits of red and green fabric the birds loved. I pictured quilted nests decorating our yard come spring.

Merilee thumped the snow off her shiny boots as she came back inside. Three-inch heels, ice, and snow didn’t go well together no matter what fashion designers said. “The wind’s picking up. You’re not walking home. You’ll blow away and drag Drake with you.”

“Okay. Thanks. I’m sure he’d agree. Did Judy get into Miss Lavinia’s?”

“Yeah, I cleared the path for her, which actually made her flash one of those little smiles we rarely see.” She put the shovel away and took off her coat. “She hates the snow because it makes her arthritis worse. That’s why’s seeing Miss Lavinia.”

“I can sympathize.” It made me feel worse for many reasons.

She met my gaze then said, “Let me guess. Rex is out of town tonight, isn’t he?”

“In the city. He’ll be home tomorrow.”

“Then you and I are calling for takeout. We’ll get dinner and a bottle of wine before I drop you and Drake off then pick up my sexy hubby.”

It was sweet how, after all these years, Merilee and Tony still fawned over each other. When they were over at our house for dinner, I hoped Rex would pick up on the little things Tony did for his wife. No such luck. He seemed more concerned with getting them to sell their fifty acres of prime real estate.

“You’re too good to me,” I told her.

“Don’t take it personally. I can’t run this shop on my own. Why don’t you take tomorrow morning off and greet Rex at the door in lingerie?”

My face burned. “I’m not sure he deserves lingerie after the way he’s been acting lately. Lunch would be nice though.”

Speaking of lunch, we dug into ours. Now that we’d taken all the decorations from the storage room, we could put away the table and chairs the sewing circle had used yesterday along with a couple Christmassy table cloths at the liquidation store outside of town when Merilee and I took a shopping trip. Two red and two green. Patterned ones would’ve made us all crazy if someone dropped a needle.

It was ten to four when Merilee turned away from the window. “Let’s lock up. The snow’s scaring everyone away.”

I called the Thai place for two separate orders. When she pulled out her credit card, I batted her hand away. “It’s on me. Tony will be happy to have his favourite tonight, too.”

While Drake filled up on dog food later that afternoon, I reached for the jar of green supplement powder from Miss Lavinia. The canister was almost empty. I’d have to drop by to order more since it would supposedly boost my immune system and help keep up my strength. With Christmas coming, I needed all the help I could get.

Our house seemed quieter than usual that night. I ate Shrimp Pad Thai on fine china by candlelight with a glass of wine and my evening dose of green sludge to wash it all down. No updates from Rex or the kids, who were making holiday plans around new significant others I hadn’t met yet. With a deep sigh, I settled to watch a movie while I cross-stitched Drake’s stocking.

My furry friend spent a couple more hours in front of the fireplace before he curled up next to me. He placed his head on my lap and closed his eyes. The warmth of his body against mine made me grow drowsy enough to give up on the movie and go to bed.

Tomorrow was the tree lighting and I wanted to be well rested. Just in case.

 Dead Man's Doll coming October 2022!

 

To request additional review copies or an interview with Diane Bator, please contact Mickey Mikkelson at Creative Edge Publicity: mickey.creativeedge@gmail.com / 403.464.6925.   

We look forward to the coverage!