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Murder With Puffins

Cover of Murder With Puffins

Murder With Puffins

Meg Langslow Mystery Series, Book 2
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Winner of the St. Martin's Malice Domestic Award in 1997 for her first work Murder With Peacocks, Donna Andrews brings back her zany characters and disasterous events.

In an attempt to get away from her family, Meg and her boyfriend go to a tiny island off the coast of Maine. What could have been a romantic getaway slowly turns into disaster.

Once there, they are marooned by a hurricane ahd that is only the beginning of their problems. Meg and her boyfriend arrive at the house only to discover that Meg's parents and siblings, along with their spouses are all there. When a murder takes place, Meg realizes that she and her boyfriend can no longer sit by a cozy fireplace, but must instead tramp around the muddy island to keep try and clear her father who is the chief suspect.

Winner of the St. Martin's Malice Domestic Award in 1997 for her first work Murder With Peacocks, Donna Andrews brings back her zany characters and disasterous events.

In an attempt to get away from her family, Meg and her boyfriend go to a tiny island off the coast of Maine. What could have been a romantic getaway slowly turns into disaster.

Once there, they are marooned by a hurricane ahd that is only the beginning of their problems. Meg and her boyfriend arrive at the house only to discover that Meg's parents and siblings, along with their spouses are all there. When a murder takes place, Meg realizes that she and her boyfriend can no longer sit by a cozy fireplace, but must instead tramp around the muddy island to keep try and clear her father who is the chief suspect.

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Excerpts-
  • Copyright © 2000 by Donna Andrews.

    MURDER WITH PUFFINS

    CHAPTER 1

    My Puffin Lies over the Ocean

    "I see land ahead," Michael said.

    "I'm sure they said that often aboard the original Flying Dutchman," I replied, my eyes tightly shut.

    "No, really; I'm sure of it this time," he insisted.

    I kept my eyes closed and didn't relax my death grip on the rail while the ferry's deck bucked and heaved beneath my feet. The rain and spray had soaked me to the bone, but I wasn't going into the cabin unless the swells grew dangerous. Way too many seasick people inside. Of course, those of us on deck were seasick, too, but at least out here the wind kept the air fresh, if a little damp.

    "The next time I have an idea like this," I mumbled, "just shoot me and get it over with."

    "What was that?" Michael shouted over a gust of wind.

    "Never mind," I shouted back.

    "I really do think that's land ahead," Michael repeated. "Honestly. I don't think it's another patch of fog."

    I debated, briefly, whether to look. My seasickness seemed a little less intense if I kept my eyes closed. But if an end to our ordeal was in sight, I wanted to know about it. I opened one eye a crack and peered in the direction Michael pointed. To me, the vague shape ahead looked like the same ominous cloud bank we'd been staring at for hours. Maybe it made him feel better to think he saw land. Maybe he was trying to make me feel better.

    "That's nice," I croaked, and closed my eyes again, blotting out the gray sky, the gray sea, and the disturbing lack of any clear line of demarcation between the two. Not tomention the gray faces of the other passengers clinging to the rail.

    "We must be getting close," Michael said, sounding less confident. "Monhegan's only an hour off the coast in good weather, right?"

    I didn't answer. Yes, normally it took only an hour by ferry to reach Monhegan, where we planned to stay in my aunt Phoebe's summer cottage. But there was nothing normal about this trip. If Michael still believed we'd reach dry land soon, I wasn't going to discourage him. Even though deep down I knew that we really had boarded the Flying Dutchman and were doomed to sail up and down the coast for all eternity, or at least until we ran out of fuel and had to be rescued by the Coast Guard.

    "Well, maybe not," I heard Michael murmur.

    I pried my eyes open to check on him. He stared out over the water with a faint frown. I felt a twinge of jealousy. I probably looked as ghastly as I felt, but even in the throes of seasickness, Michael was gorgeous. A little paler than usual, and the hypnotically blue eyes were a bit bloodshot. But still, were I an artist, looking for just the right tall, dark, handsome cover model for a nautically themed romance, I'd look at Michael and shout, "Eureka!"

    "I'm sorry," I said instead. "This was a bad idea."

    "It'll turn out all right," he said with a smile. Only a faint ghost of his usual dazzling smile, but it made me feel better. "But next time we set out on an adventure, let's remember to check the weather first, okay?"

    Well, that was encouraging. At least he was still talking about "next time." And next time I took off on a trip with Michael, I promised myself, we'd go someplace warm and tropical, where the nearest large body of water was the hotel swimming pool. Not on a boat in the middle of the Atlantic—well, several miles off the coast of Maine anyway. Hurricane Gladys had now headed out to sea and now subsided to a mere tropical storm, but if I'd bothered tocheck the Weather Channel before Michael and I set out for our weekend getaway, I could have picked a more promising spot. In fact, I could probably have done better just by sticking a...

About the Author-
  • Donna Andrews is the author of the Meg Langslow mysteries, including Stork Raving Mad and Swan for the Money. She has won the Agatha, Anthony, and Barry awards, a Romantic Times award for best first novel, and two Lefty and two Toby Bromberg Awards for funniest mystery. When not writing fiction, Andrews is a self-confessed nerd, rarely found away from her computer, unless she's messing in the garden. She lives in Reston, Virginia.

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Meg Langslow Mystery Series, Book 2
Donna Andrews
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Donna Andrews
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