Dear Reader,
“The Fool Dies Last” is the first title in author Carol Miller’s new series, Fortune Telling Mysteries. Carol’s Murder and Moonshine from her Moonshine Mysteries, was named an Amazon Best Book of the Month and a Library Journal Starred Debut of the Month. Carol is an attorney, who lives in Virginia and she is today’s guest author. Please welcome her.
Email: [email protected]
Was It a Ghost?
Jack sensed her first. It must have been the part beagle in him. He stopped short and gave a pronounced sniff. The neighbors were away for the weekend, and I had cheerfully agreed to walk their two dogs. Having purchased the property only a few months earlier, I enjoyed exploring the densely wooded acreage. Jill, the part terrier, added a sharp yip, and that was when I saw the woman. She was standing in an overgrown clearing a short distance away, with long brown hair and a flowing blue dress. In her enthusiasm, Jill tangled herself around my legs. By the time I unwrapped the lead and looked up again, the woman had vanished.
When we reached the clearing, there was no sign of anyone having been there--no footprints or evidence of a path. I wondered if my eyes and the shadowy light through the trees had played a trick on me, until Jack lay down next to the gravestone. It was less than a foot in height, almost entirely covered by weeds. The top and sides were chipped, and the face was a weather-beaten gray that was too worn to make out more than a few letters of the inscription. I found several other stones nearby. They were flatter and wider, and based on their spacing, they appeared to be the foundation stones from what had once been a small building.
Curiosity preyed on me. Had it been a little house? A hunting cabin? And who was buried beside it? None of the long-settled neighbors had ever heard of a structure on the land. The county property maps and records showed nothing. Finally I visited the historical society. A
volunteer in his mid-nineties with a wry smile that belied his age pulled out a well-organized box of old photographs. And there it was in faded sepia: A single-room schoolhouse with its schoolmarm.
The discovery has sparked great local interest, and everyone has been eager to help with the research. So far we’ve learned that the schoolmarm’s name was Hannah (her surname is less certain), and she taught at the schoolhouse for several decades in the nineteenth century. By all accounts, Hannah never married or had children. Is it her gravestone? And who was the woman I saw there? A distant relative? A relative of a favorite pupil? The spirit of Hannah herself? While we wait to learn more, Jack and Jill and I have been taking many long walks in the woods, hoping to see her again.
-- Carol Miller
Welcome Carol to the book club, email, Email: [email protected]
Thanks for reading with me. It's so good to read with friends.
Suzanne Beecher
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