THE RARE BOOKS COZY MYSTERIES
by Daphne Silver
November 25, 2024 - January 3, 2025 Virtual Book Tour
CRIME AND PARCHMENT
Rare books librarian Juniper Blume knows this much… an ancient Celtic manuscript shouldn’t be in a Maryland cemetery. But that’s exactly what her brother-in-law claims.
Last year, Juniper saw the 1,200-year-old Book of Kells in Ireland. She learned how their bejeweled covers were stolen centuries ago, never to be seen again. So how could they have ended up in Rose Mallow, a small Chesapeake Bay town? Being Jewish, the Book of Kells might not be her sacred text, but as a rare books librarian, the ancient book is still sacred to her, making it important to Juniper to find out the truth.
Rose Mallow is the same place where Juniper used to summer with her sister Azalea and their grandmother Zinnia, known as Nana Z. Ever since Nana Z passed away, Juniper’s avoided returning, but her curiosity is greater than her grief, so she heads down in her vintage convertible with her rescue dog Clover.
Juniper discovers that her sister Azalea has transformed their grandmother’s Queen Anne style mansion into the Wildflower Inn, backing up to the Chesapeake Bay. Although Juniper isn’t much of a cook, Azalea has kept their grandmother’s legacy alive, filling the house with the smells of East European Jewish treats, like sweet kugels and tzimmes cake. Will coming back here feel like returning home or fill Juniper with a deeper sorrow? Can she apologize to her sister for not being there when she was needed most?
Purchase Crime and Punishment:
THE TELL-TALE HOMICIDE
Rare books librarian Juniper Blume lands her dream job: creating a new museum in her Chesapeake Bay town of Rose Mallow, Maryland. But on her very first day, she makes a shocking discovery - a dead man clutching a book by Edgar Allan Poe, stolen from the collections!
As Juniper gets closer to cracking the coded message hidden inside the book, she realizes someone is desperate to keep its literary secrets buried… even if that means burying her too.
Dressed in her signature vintage style with rescue pup Clover by her side, the fearless bookworm must hunt down the culprit before becoming the next victim. But can she solve the case without jeopardizing a budding romance with her boss, the dashing Leo Calverton? And can she help her sister Azalea perfect their grandmother's legendary blintz recipe before the Rose Mallow Festival?
A delightfully deadly page-turner, The Tell-Tale Homicide continues the charming Rare Books Cozy Mystery series by Agatha award-winning author Daphne Silver. Fans of Kate Carlisle and Jenn McKinlay will love tagging along with the whip-smart, book-loving Juniper on her adventures.
INTERVIEW:
Can you tell us when you started writing?
I’ve been writing as long as I can remember. In the third grade, I wrote my first story, "Walking Through the Attic of Time." My friends and I discovered that an old house's attic was actually a portal to the past. We traveled back in time to make new friends. As I grew up, I continued writing, even minoring it during college. However, it wasn’t until I became an adult that I began writing mysteries.
Can you tell me who or what the inspiration for the book was?
My main character Juniper Blume is a rare books librarian. She was inspired by two things: I have the pleasure of being married to a public librarian and also, I have spent most of my career in history museums, so creating a character that combined both of those passions was a natural fit. As for the story idea, it came from a trip to Ireland that my husband I took years ago, during which we saw the ancient Book of Kells in Dublin. Learning that its bejeweled covers have been missing for over a thousand years really made me curious and ask “what if?”
Can you tell us how you came up with your title?
Because Juniper is a rare books librarian, all the books in this series will have puns based on famous book titles. I loved the idea of Crime and Parchment, since it plays on her dealing with older books and the Book of Kells being written on parchment. The next book in the series is The Tell-Tale Homicide, which is a play on Edgar Allan Poe.
Can you tell us a little about your main characters?
Besides Juniper, there are several main characters, including her sister Azalea, who runs The Wildflower Inn - their late grandmother’s house turned into a hotel on the shores of the Chesapeake Bay. Azalea has a three year old daughter Violet who quickly becomes best friends with Juniper’s rescue dog Clover. Much of the story is also about rekindling the relationship between the sisters.
Do you ever suffer from writer’s block? If so, what do you do about it?
Sure! To help with overcoming writer’s block, I start by drafting an intensive plot. While I’m working on the plot, if I hit a rough patch, I tend to just ask - what could go off the rails here? Who could Juniper run into? What kind of trouble could she find herself in? The answers may or may not end up in the book, but it helps keep the plot moving along. After I finish the plot, I go back and rewrite the story from the start, having a scene by scene guide to help me.
Where is this book set and why did you choose that setting?
Crime and Parchment and The Tell-Tale Homicide are set in the fictional town of Rose Mallow, on the shores of the Chesapeake Bay in southern Maryland. Rose Mallow is a former resort town, trying to recapture its glory days, but home to many charming shops and restaurants and eccentric characters. It’s based upon a few real towns along the Chesapeake Bay, most notably North Beach and Chesapeake Beach, which are linked by a public boardwalk.
What are your current/future projects?
The Tell-Tale Homicide, book 2 in the Rare Books Cozy Mystery series, will be out on November 19th. I’m knee-deep in book 3 and also working on book 4 as well.
How long did it take you to write the book, and how long did it take to get published?
There are two answers: about ten years or six months. Ten years because I first started writing about Juniper and Azalea around a decade ago after that trip to Ireland.
Six months because, after several starts and stops, I put the book aside. I wrote a history book, changed jobs, and had a baby. It wasn’t until my kiddo was entering kindergarten that I had enough brain space to attempt writing again. This time, the book flowed. Like a deluge. Finishing the first draft took about six weeks, give or take. Then I pitched it on a Twitter (which I also hadn’t used in a decade!) during #PitMad (the hashtag was short for pitch madness) and soon ended up with my agent Cindy Bullard of Birch Literary. By the spring, I had a deal with Level Best Books for the electronic and print versions of the book and Blackstone for the audio.
Do you have any tips for a young writer just starting out?
Keep writing! Read widely in general and then deeply in your genre, be that literary fiction, sci-fi, romance, mystery, or what have you. And read with an eye to structure, voice, pacing, and plot. If you plan to subvert expectations in your genre, know those expectations first.
Writing can feel solitary, but don’t let it be. Find your community. I joined Sisters in Crime, including both my local Chesapeake chapter and the Guppies (Great UnPublished) chapters. I cannot stress how incredible of an organization Sisters in Crime is, and I’ve been involved with several associations during my career. Everyone is so caring, and the organization provide incredible resources for its members. Learn more at www.sistersincrime.org.
Series Details:
Genre: Cozy Mystery
Published by: Level Best Books
Series:The Rare Books Cozy Mysteries
Series Links: Amazon | Level Best Books
Read an excerpt from Crime and Parchment:
CHAPTER 1
My 1965, robin’s egg blue convertible backfired as I parked in front of the Wildflower Inn. The noise set off Clover barking in the backseat. Not exactly the quiet homecoming I’d hoped for. I jumped out of my Karmann-Ghia – or “KG” as I’d nicknamed her – to check under the hood, hoping I wouldn’t need to get the roadster serviced yet again. No idea where that money would come from.
A screaming, ranting madwoman poured out of a neighboring house. Maybe in her late seventies, she brandished a large umbrella. I dropped the hood to find the umbrella pointing at me. Clover – all twenty pounds of him – jumped out and started growling.
“Easy, boy,” I said.
“You shoot something off, Missy? Here to cause trouble? Because I’m on the board of the Friends of the Rose Mallow Police.” the woman said. She wore a perfectly fitted Mamie Eisenhower pink skirt suit with enormous pearls – straight out of the 1950s. Her white bouffant billowed around her head. She reminded me of a researcher I’d helped earlier that day at the Library of Congress. That woman had been a murder mystery author looking for books about early detectives. This woman looked like she wanted to murder someone – namely me.
Suddenly I remembered her: Cordelia Sullivan. She was my late grandmother’s arch-nemesis. After my Nana Z had moved to Rose Mallow, they’d competed to be the president of almost every board in town. Nana Z had called it a “friendly rivalry to garner the most civic goodwill,” but I don’t think Cordelia saw it that way. To her, the Blume family were – and always would be – outsiders in her perfect Chesapeake Bay town.
“What’s going on?” My sister Azalea appeared on the wraparound porch of the Wildflower Inn. Although I was two years younger at twenty-eight, she looked like my twin, except that her hair was much longer and darker than my slanted bob. She pushed her bangs back and brought a hand up to her forehead when she saw me. “Juniper? What on earth are you doing here?”
“Well, I…” My words faltered. I’d spent the past hour driving and trying to figure out how to tell Azalea about why I’d finally returned, but every time I tested the words out loud, they failed. Clover had listened with confused curiosity before giving up and falling asleep.
“You know there’s a noise ordinance,” Cordelia said as she waved her umbrella around. Clover barked at the offending instrument. However, I think he wanted to play with it more than anything else. Occasional growling aside, he’s not exactly attack dog material.
“Yes, Mrs. Sullivan. Not until 10 p.m., and it’s not even 8 o’clock yet.” Azalea’s exasperated voice led me to suspect that she’d had this conversation more than once.
“Hmph. I plan on taking your ‘halfway house’ to the zoning board. What a travesty to do to our pristine historic district. You know I’m president of the Rose Mallow Historical Society.” Cordelia wagged a finger at my sister. I closed my eyes before rolling them.
“Mama! Mama!” A young bundle of legs and a mop of nearly black hair appeared next to Azalea on the wraparound porch. I couldn’t believe how big Violet had grown. She was almost four years old now.
She latched onto Azalea’s legs and held on tightly. I wanted to run up to my niece and smother her in hugs and kisses, but I wasn’t sure how I’d be received. Clover apparently did too because he took off after her. The little girl squealed with laughter as he covered her in licks.
“Go inside, Vi. It’s past your bedtime,” Azalea said. She turned to us. “I don’t have time for this. As you can see, I have a young child requiring my attention. Plus, I have a house full of guests. Mrs. Sullivan, it sounds like you have a plan in place to handle my zoning and noise issues. I’ll leave you to it. And Juniper, if you’re here, then let’s get you inside.”
Violet ran inside, letting Clover follow. I took that as a positive sign, so I grabbed my suitcase from the trunk and followed quickly, as Cordelia monitored us. Her umbrella remained held out in the air. She reminded me of Don Quixote in pearls.
“You’ve done an incredible job restoring the place,” I said as I walked across the perfectly manicured lawn. Azalea had recently converted Nana Z’s Queen Anne style mansion into a boutique hotel. After so many years away, I hadn’t been sure what to expect.
She eyed me with uncertainty. I could tell she was debating whether to chew me out for not being here for any of the work, let alone the hotel’s grand opening earlier in the spring. But my sister is much better at maturity than I am.
“It’s been a journey. Not an undertaking for the faint of heart. Repairing that turret alone had me almost give up and put up the for sale sign.” Azalea pointed up to the three-story round tower protruding from the side of the house. As a kid, I used to pretend Nana Z’s home was a castle and fought many dragons racing up that tower.
“You wouldn’t.”
“I said ‘Almost,’” she replied with a laugh.
“I love how bright the yellow siding is. I bet that color really pops in the morning against the Chesapeake Bay.” I walked up the stairs to the wraparound, past garden beds bursting with purple coneflowers and Black-Eyed Susans, Maryland’s state flower.
“You know what’s funny is how much I hated canary yellow when we were little. Every time we came here, I’d always wished Nana Z’s house was more like Cordelia Sullivan’s with her dark greens and rich reds. But now that Nana Z’s gone, I couldn’t stand to change it,” Azalea said.
“But it’s such a cheery color. Why would you want something so drab as Cordelia’s place? ” I asked. As a kid, Cordelia’s house had been as scary as the owner. Losing a ball into her yard meant it was never coming back. Neighborhood kids claimed her house was haunted.
Azalea shrugged. “Yeah, the yellow’s growing on me.”
“You kept this mess?” I said when I spotted the clunky clay mezuzah on the doorpost. I’d made the case at Jewish day camp as a kid. Inside was a tiny parchment scroll inscribed with biblical verses in Hebrew. The painted clay design was supposed to be a bunch of zinnias in honor of Nana Z’s first name, but it looked more like a lumpy mud puddle than a bright firework of flowers.
Azalea shrugged with a smile. “Oh, there are a few of my own masterpieces on some of the other doors inside. Maybe I’ll get Violet to make some new ones.”
The inside was as exquisite as the outside. I don’t think my memories did the place justice. The stained glass above the front door also sported Black-Eyed Susans, while those above each window featured a different native wildflower.
Azalea had kept our grandmother’s lush red carpets with ornate gold and white floral patterns. Polished mahogany inset panels gleamed from the walls. A staircase with beautifully carved spindles fed into the large lobby.
On the left was a parlor that Azalea had turned into the registration space. On the right was the library, overflowing with leather-bound books. It was in this room I had discovered my love for stories and books as a child. I wouldn’t have become a rare books librarian at The Library of Congress without Nana Z’s library. I sighed, wishing things were going better there. Nana Z would have been proud of me, but my job had become so difficult since I lost that promotion to Greyson. A little birdie had told me not to expect another chance for a long time, which meant I was stuck with someone Nana Z would have described as a “shlemiel.”
A narrow hallway disappeared between the registration area and the staircase, which led back to the dining room and kitchen. I remembered how those overlooked the back garden, public boardwalk, and the Chesapeake Bay. I could imagine how ornately she’d decorated the upstairs bedrooms.
Clover sniffed at everything in sight. I monitored him, but he was having a grand time exploring. Just not too grand of a time. I tried sending the message to him telepathically. He lifted his nose at me, as if to say, “Who, me?”
“I love that you hung some of Nana Z’s watercolors,” I said. My eyes grew misty as I gazed at her paintings of native flowers, including dwarf crested irises, ironweed, columbine, and, of course, the rose mallow for which the Maryland town was named. I shook my head, pushing the grief down deep.
A teenager hunched over a thick book sat at the registration desk. She had long, bluish-green locs that looked beautiful against her sepia brown skin. Her large glasses were rimmed in a matching turquoise color. She looked up from the book and said, “Sorry, Azalea. Vi got away from me.”
The teen didn’t seem alarmed, but then again, neither did Azalea. I wondered if this happened frequently. Maybe Vi was a regular escape artist. Nana Z would have been pleased. I held back my smile.
“I’m Juniper, Azalea’s sister,” I said to the teen as I extended my hand.
“You have a sister?” she asked Azalea with a look of surprise. Then she recovered, shook my hand, and said, “I’m Keisha Douglass. I’ve been helping Azalea with the Wildflower Inn. But, uh, we’re all booked up tonight.”
“I’ll figure it out,” said Azalea. “Although giving me some sort of a heads up you were finally coming would’ve been nice, Juniper.”
I didn’t know what to say, so I smiled awkwardly. Clover raced over to the desk to check out Keisha. The desk was higher than him, so he couldn’t quite see atop. Fortunately, she came around to pet him. “Oh wow! A dog? We’re allowing dogs now?”
I turned to check with Azalea, who massaged her temples. She breathed deeply but then simply shrugged. Great. Not only had I shown up out of the blue, but I hadn’t checked to make sure pets were allowed. I was pretty sure I knew the root cause of her sudden headache. I smiled sheepishly.
“No worries, Keisha. Clover’s the exception to the no dogs rule. Vi’s fine. I’m going to put her to bed,” Azalea said, as she ushered the bouncing kid down the narrow hallway and turned abruptly right before the kitchen. Unsure of what to do, I followed. There was a small sitting room there, which she had reconfigured into a bedroom. It was a tight space. Azalea caught me staring. “It’s a temporary solution. I’m still working on updating the Carriage House in the back garden. Once I’m finished, Vi and I will move there.”
Vi ran around the room, fighting Azalea’s attempts to return her to bed. My sister paused mid-chase and said, “This may take a bit. You know where the kitchen is. Why don’t you go there, start a kettle of tea, and I’ll meet you there when we’re done? I was getting ready to pull a kugel out of the oven anyway.”
That was my sister, always gently commanding, whether it was an unruly neighbor, an energetic preschooler, or me, the surprise guest. I thought of her like a duck. Above the water, she appeared to be smoothly sailing along, but below, it was a mad fury of management to keep everything afloat.
“A kugel?” I asked with excitement. Nana Z had made plenty of the baked noodle casseroles each summer. Sometimes they were savory, but more often, they were sweet, made with lokshen, or egg noodles, and various cheeses.
Azalea looked pleased. “I’ve been trying to perfect her recipe. You’ll have to tell me what you think.”
I knew immediately she meant Nana Z. As we headed down the hallway, I caught the aroma of the decadent noodle pudding. I could already detect the cinnamon she’d used. My eyes watered slightly at the memories the smell produced.
The kitchen was both familiar and new. No longer was it the 1890s meets 1970s chic that Nana Z had employed. Azalea had replaced most of the yellowed appliances with updated stainless-steel, upgraded the laminate countertops to granite, and removed the harvest gold wallpaper to paint the in vogue “greige” along with a matching subway tile backsplash. Someone had been watching a lot of HGTV. But it was still Nana Z’s kettle on the stovetop, her handcrafted cookie jar on the counter, and a variety of favorite teas in the same cabinet location. Being here felt like being at home, but only if that home had been completely renovated when you weren’t looking.
The view out back remained the same, looking past a blooming garden of blue hydrangeas and the small Carriage House, to the public boardwalk separating the garden from the Chesapeake Bay. On good days, you could make out the shoreline on the Eastern Shore. Being early June, the sun was beginning to set beyond the Bay’s edge, so the view became a Tonalist painting with its atmospheric blues, grays, and browns.
Clover found an embroidered tea towel to play with. I tried pulling it away from him, but he decided that meant the game was afoot. I dug into my suitcase and found his food. I borrowed a couple of low rimmed bowls to fill with his dinner and water. He quickly abandoned the towel for something to eat.
According to the timer, the kugel still had a few minutes left in the oven. I caught the kettle before it whistled and filled up two mugs. Given the abundance of Darjeeling black tea, I assumed it was still Azalea’s favorite and prepped it for both of us. Within a few minutes, she came in, plopped down on an empty seat, and dropped her head to the table. I sat up in alarm, afraid that my cool as nails sister might be about to cry.
***
Excerpt from Crime and Parchment by Daphne Silver. Copyright 2023 by Daphne Silver. Reproduced with permission from Daphne Silver. All rights reserved.
Author Bio:
Daphne Silver is the Agatha Award winning author of the Rare Books Cozy Mystery Series. Her first novel, Crime and Parchment (Level Best Books, 2023), won the Agatha for Best First Mystery Novel. Her latest book, The Tell-Tale Homicide, comes out November 2024 from Level Best Books. She’s worked more than twenty years in museums and symphonies and has the great fortune of being married to a librarian. When she’s not writing, she’s drawing and painting. She lives in Maryland with her family. Although she’s not much of a baker, she won’t ever turn down a sweet lokshen kugel.
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