Have Yourself a Deadly Little Christmas
About Have Yourself a Deadly Little Christmas
Have Yourself a Deadly Little Christmas (Year-Round Christmas Mystery)
Cozy Mystery
Setting - Rudolph, New York
Crooked Lane Books (September 19, 2023)
Hardcover : 288 pages
It’s beginning to look a lot like murder in the sixth installment of this charming cozy mystery series, perfect for fans of Donna Andrews and Jacqueline Frost.
About Vicki Delany
Vicki Delany is one of Canada’s most prolific and varied crime writers and a national bestseller in the U.S. Author of more than fifty books, she is currently writing the A Tea by the Sea Mysteries, A Sherlock Holmes Bookshop Mysteries, A Year-Round Christmas Mysteries, and A Lighthouse Library Mysteries (as Eva Gates). Vicki is the recipient of the 2019 Derrick Murdoch Award for contributions to Canadian crime writing. She lives in Prince Edward County, Ontario.
Author Links
My Thoughts
Have Yourself a Deadly Little Christmas by Vicki Delany takes us back to Rudolph, New York. It is Merry Wilkinson’s busy season at Mrs. Claus’s Treasures. It does not help that her assistant manager, Jackie O’Reilly is busy with rehearsals with the Rudolph Community Theater Players of a musical version of A Christmas Carol. Merry is a friendly and relatable protagonist. I love her charming shop (I could do some serious damage in there). I do feel, though, that Merry needs to work on her managerial skills. Her employees are breaking the rules and Merry is not holding them accountable (I do not like seeing them walk all over her). I would not want to work with Jackie (I feel bad for the employee that must work with her). Jackie is self-absorbed. If it does not relate to her, Jackie is not interested (she is obtuse). Rudolph is brimming with holiday charm. It is a town that I would love to visit (do some shopping, take a sleigh ride, enjoy hot cocoa by the fire while reading a book).
I would, though, avoid Rudolph Community Theater Players. They fight more than toddlers over a new toy. It was just a matter of time before one of them was murdered (the crime occurs about a quarter of a way into the story). There are several suspects in the crime (not one cast member liked the woman). The investigation was skimpy. The crime is neatly wrapped up at the end with a bow. The Rudolph Community Theater Players take the saying “the show must go on” seriously. Have Yourself A Deadly Little Christmas is the sixth A Year-Round Christmas Mystery. It can be read as a standalone for those new to the series. The author takes the time in the beginning to describe the town and the characters. My favorite character is Merry’s St. Bernard. He provided some sweet and funny moments. There is a scene near the end of the story that I loved. It shows that a little kindness towards another person goes a long way. Have Yourself a Deadly Little Christmas is a festive tale with quarrelling players, a terrible Tiny Tim, singing snafus, an encounter with a killer, a crotchety storekeeper, a winter wonderland, and a Happy Holiday!
Excerpt
Paula, have you met my
daughter, Merry? She owns Mrs. Claus’s Treasures, on Jingle Bell Lane. And this
is Alan Anderson, who makes the most divine things out of wood you’ve ever
seen. Merry and Alan, this is Paula Monahan. Paula’s an important part of the
theater family. Isn’t that lovely?”
Probably only I, because I know
my mother so well, heard the unsaid “not” at the end of that sentence.
“Are you in the cast, Paula?”
Alan asked. “Or crew?”
I’d seen Paula around town, but
I didn’t remember having ever met her and I didn’t think she shopped at my
store. She was in her early forties, younger than most of the company, slightly
taller than my five foot four, and slim beneath a padded black jacket. Heavy
brown bangs peeked out from beneath her wool cap. “I play Mrs. Cratchit. My
son, Eddie—he’s around here somewhere—is Tiny Tim.”
“Important roles. Tim, in
particular,” Alan said.
Paula didn’t smile in
acknowledgment. Instead she threw a not-friendly glare at my mother. “It is. As
some people fail to understand. If you’ll
excuse me. I need to ensure Eddie finds something other than cake to eat.”
“Sounds like an idea,” Alan
said once she’d gone. “I’m ready to hit the buffet. Merry?”
“Go ahead. I’ll be with you in
a minute.”
He needed no further
encouragement and barely managed to refrain from breaking into a run as he
crossed the lawn.
“That was tense,” I said to my
mom. “What’s with you and Paula?”
Mom sighed. “All these years I
have refrained from engaging in amateur dramatics, no matter how hard Desmond
and Ron worked to entice me. At last, I succumbed. Much to my regret.”
Mom wasn’t exaggerating or
bragging. The director and former artistic director of the Rudolph Community
Theater Players came on pilgrimage once a year to the house to beg her to join
the group. In her glory days, my mom had been a professional opera singer. Not
just a singer, but a true diva. She’s sung solo parts with the Metropolitan
Opera and at some of the best opera houses in Europe, including a sold-out
performance of Madama Butterfly at La
Scala, in which she sang Suzuki.
With her travel and performance schedule, it had largely been my dad—solid, sensible, small-town dad—who’d raised my three younger siblings and me. Mom was retired now, and she kept her hand in teaching vocal lessons to local children and a few adults who’d always wanted to sing but never had the chance to learn formally. She might be retired, but she was still every inch the diva. She’d never had anything but scorn for amateur theatrics. To everyone’s surprise, probably hers most of all, she agreed to appear with the Rudolph Community Theater Players in this year’s production of A Christmas Carol. Desmond Kerslake, the director, told her they’d be doing the musical version, and they desperately needed her help.
She not only would play the
Ghost of Christmas Past, as well as Belle, Scrooge’s former fiancée, but she
served as the musical coach. When I’d asked how she could play both the ghost
and Belle when the ghost shows Scrooge his youth, she said, “With a bit of deft
maneuvering from stage left to center and a flick of a cape. Belle has the
strongest female song in the entire production, no one else is remotely capable
of doing it.” She tried not to smile too widely as she said it.
“This,” she now declared dramatically, “is going to be the death of me.” All that was missing was the back of the hand held to the forehead and the drop into the fainting couch. “If not of me, likely someone else.”
Kris
The Avid Reader
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