Augusta Iris McKee, former opera singer, professor of music
on two college campuses in 1960s Cincinnati, sometime stage director, is a strong-minded,
tender-hearted, savvy lady in midlife. She loves nice clothes and stilettos. Augusta has never married, and doesn’t expect to be.
That changes when she meets Homicide Detective Malcolm
Mitchell on the campus of Cliffside College, following the murder of one of her
voice students. He’s the best-looking man she’s ever laid eyes on. While that
first meeting is confrontational (he’s at least as strong-willed as she is, and
he’s a cop), something sparks between them. As they grow to know each other, Augusta
discovers important information that leads to the arrest of the killer. The
friendship becomes a romance.
Augusta is seven years older than Malcolm. She’s much more
sensitive to that fact than he is; after all, they’re both mature adults. But
it is the 1960s, and it’s not something that happens often. Augusta finds
herself involved in Malcolm’s cases sometimes in ways she didn’t expect or
intend. That can be a cause of friction.
In their most recent adventure, The Case of the
Chrysanthemum Murders, once again Augusta has slightly overstepped while
attempting to be helpful.
***
Augusta headed down the steps, purse
in hand, to find Malcolm standing in the entrance hall, his arms folded across
his chest, looking none too pleased.
“That phone call was from Jim Edmonds. He just had a
discussion with the Boone County coroner’s office about a visitor they had this
afternoon.”
He took a step toward her, fists at his waist. “It seems
a very attractive older woman was there asking a lot of questions about Anton
Portnov’s death. Would you know anything about that, Augusta?”
“He called me an older woman?”
“A very attractive older woman. Good Lord, Gus. What the
hell were you doing over there? You promised me you wouldn’t do anything like
that.”
“Do you think of me as an older woman? I’m not that much
older than you, Malcolm Mitchell.”
“Augusta!” He took her firmly by the shoulders and
stared directly into her eyes. “This isn’t about you. You just interfered in an
ongoing homicide investigation; do you realize that?”
“I tried to call you before I drove over there. I
couldn’t imagine what harm it would do.”
“Let’s see.” Malcolm crossed his arms over his chest
again and leaned against the door frame. “This woman told the clerk she was
manager of the string quartet Portnov had been part of at one time.”
“Well, I just thought maybe I could play on their
sympathy and they might let something slip. I’m sorry, Mal. I promise it won’t
happen again.” Oh, dear. The last thing I wanted was to annoy him. “I
tried to present myself as a sympathetic friend of the quartet and of Anton’s.
I honestly thought it might be helpful.”
She saw the twitch at the corner of his mouth and
relaxed.
“You’d do better to stick with fiery gypsies like
Frasquita in Carmen.” He laughed and
shook his head. “Come on, I want to get to the opera pavilion early.”
He extended an arm. “By the way, for a ‘not that much
older woman’ you look great to this not that much younger guy. Love that dress.”
“Mal, I am sorry about driving over to the coroner’s office.”
She slipped an arm through his. “I won’t do anything again without talking to
you about it first.”
“Very well, Mrs. Mitchell.” He kissed her cheek. “I’ll
let you off this time with a warning. I’m too busy to visit you on Sundays
anyway. You know that’s a punishable offense, though.”
“Let’s blame it on the Frasquita part of me. She tends to
be impulsive.”
“She’s also irresistible.” He grinned again as they
headed for Augusta’s car.
**
Covers by Taylor van Kooten. Poster by Katy Schultz Burton
