Deliah Dickenson Mystery #3
On Sale: November 30, 2010
Featuring: Delilah Dickinson
Mystery Woman Sleuth, Mystery
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Mardi Gras in NOLA, what better than a murder?
While attending the annual Tennessee Williams Literary Festival in New Orleans, Delilah Dickinson becomes immersed in a murder investigation when one of the professors claims he can prove Williams didn’t write Cat on a Hot Tin Roof …
Delilah Dickinson is finally looking forward to a nice, relaxing time leading her literary travel agency’s latest tour at the annual Tennessee Williams Literary Festival in New Orleans. After all, a group of intelligent, low-key English professors can’t be too much trouble, right?
Wrong, as it turns out. These academics don’t waste any time showing their claws, especially when one of the professors claims he can prove Williams didn’t even write Cat on a Hot Tin Roof. But when the supposed real author—Howard Burleson, apparently once a very close friend of Tennessee’s—turns up dead, Delilah knows she’s got to get to the bottom of things…even if the truth is as dirty as all them lies!
But, Lord—the cast of suspects! Tamara Paige’s entire academic career will be ruined if it turns out that Williams wasn’t the actual playwright, and Delilah knows people have killed for much less. And it appears that someone else in the tour group is related to Burleson—someone who surely wouldn’t want the world to know that the supposed “author” based the scathing play on his own proud Southern family.
So between finding a murderer and all the steamy affairs, squabbling, and shouts of “Shut up! / No, you shut up!” Delilah is beginning to feel like a certain cat stuck on a certain roof. Plus there’s still a killer on the loose, and if she doesn’t act quickly she just may find herself starring…in her very own death scene!
Blanche DuBois was wrong: you can’t depend on the kindness of strangers. Not that I want to sound pessimistic, and let’s face it, by the end of A Streetcar Named Desire, Blanche is more than a little nuts, anyway. But if you really want to be disillusioned about the human condition, try being a travel agent for a while.
I looked at the group of people gathered in the airport concourse and did my dead-level best not to shout, “Will all of y’all just shut up?”
Because that wouldn’t have been professional, you see.
So instead I turned to Dr. Will Burke and said, “They’re your colleagues. Can’t you do something about them?”
He sighed. “I’ll try. But remember, they’re literature and theater professors. Drama Read More…