Title:
Still Life, Still Dead
Author:
Sydney Abrams
Genre:
Cozy Mystery
Book Blurb:
Alex and her colorful cohort of artists at the Creative Workshop are gearing up for their first artist retreat. She’s prepared for every eventuality to make sure the week is a success, except, that is, for finding special guest artist Niko dead at the bottom of the cliff at Flat Rock Falls State Park. Alex sees that her business could go down the drain as quickly as rinsing paint from a paintbrush, so she stumbles her way into the investigation, determined to unveil the killer’s identity before she loses everything, including her own life.
Excerpt:
I was walking at a good clip but slowed my pace as I passed the darkened storefronts along Main Street. The vintage streetlights cast a soft glow and illuminated the window displays filled with pumpkins, fall leaves, and corn husks, officially ushering in my favorite time of year. It had been dark when I left my apartment this morning, but by now, the faint predawn light was beginning to contrast with the hills that surrounded our town, and I took a deep breath of the cool crisp air as I welcomed the new day.
Okay, that sounded corny even to me, but as those who knew me could attest, I just really liked fall. I frequently noted how the air felt different here in Flat Rock Falls, and I have, on occasion, spontaneously shouted, “I feel alive!” during the transition from summer to fall.
Although I no longer had to get up this early, I often did because I loved the stillness of this hour. Back in Philly, the golden hour was also when the best brainstorming took place, so when a thought struck me, I didn’t hesitate before pulling out my phone to call Maggie, my assistant manager.
After a number of rings, a sleepy voice answered, “Alex, is the building on fire?”
“No! Of course not.”
“Okay then. You’ve just forgotten, again, that most of us aren’t up with the first chirp of the birds.”
I came to a halt and inwardly groaned. “Omigosh, Maggie, I’m so sorry—Go back to sleep,” I added in a hoarse whisper, as if lowering my voice would lessen the aggravation of the wake-up call.
“You might as well tell me why you called.” Her voice sounded farther away now, as if she had put me on speakerphone and buried her head under the pillow.
“Never mind, it’s not urgent. Go back to sleep.”
“Mmm,” she mumbled. “I’ll text you when I get there.”
“Yeah, sure, I’ll...” She disconnected the call before I could say anything further. It’s difficult to kick oneself while walking, but I tried.
And then, as if Maggie had sent a message to the universe, the skies opened up, and I was caught in a driving rain. I ducked under the awning outside the Sugar Rush bakery, which, sadly, wasn’t open yet, and as I stared at the enticing signage for coffee and pastries, I couldn’t help but think this was a special kind of karma.
It didn’t take long for the rain to let up, and I was debating whether to continue walking or head back to my apartment when I noticed the silhouette of a lone figure across the street. It was dark where they stood, but I could tell they were facing my direction, and it was a little creepy how motionless they were.
Were they watching me? Maybe someone would join them, pick them up, or they would move on. I waited a few minutes, pretending to read a poster in the bakery window, but when no one came, and the figure still hadn’t moved, I felt a tingling sensation on my arms and neck that I recognized as fear. This made the decision for me, and I headed straight home with a purposeful stride.
I looked over my shoulder a couple of times but didn’t see anyone following me, and by the time I reached my building, I felt silly. This was, after all, Flat Rock Falls. Nothing ever happened here.
After changing into what had become my staple wardrobe of paint-stained jeans, an oversized men’s button-down shirt, and work boots, I impatiently waited while the coffee machine went through its grinding, brewing, and milk frothing. I considered making some toast, but even through the bag, I could see dots of mold on the bread.
I hadn’t quite gotten the hang of small-town domesticity, which meant my larder was frequently bare or in a state that looked like a science experiment. So, instead, I grabbed my coffee and a handful of candy-coated chocolates from the bowl on the counter and went into my home office to wake up my sleeping laptop. Time to get to work.
I now owned and managed the Creative Workshop, a collective for artists. We currently had over a dozen professional artists renting studios, and we had become a community hub for classes in every art and craft form imaginable. This was my new chapter, and even at the age of forty-seven, I occasionally felt like a kid fresh out of school embarking on their first professional adventure. Everything was new and exciting.
Next week the Workshop was hosting an artist retreat, Palette and Pencil: The Art of Making Art. This was our first event with participants from out of town, and it could take our business to the next level, so I really wanted things to be buttoned up. Spencer Wells, one of our resident artists, was leading it, and Niko Romano, a prominent painter coming from New York City, was the main attraction.
I had lost myself in a sea of details when my phone pinged with a text from Maggie.
—I’m here.—
—Be right down.— I texted back.
When renovating the building, I had included an apartment for myself on the second floor, so all I had to do was grab my worn leather satchel, a third cup of coffee for me, and an apology macchiato for Maggie and walk across the landing to take the wide center staircase down to the lobby and front desk.
“Mornin’. I come with a peace offering!” I called out, making my descent.
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What’s your favorite activity to shake off the winter doldrums?
A brisk walk, with occasional stops so our dog Charlie can play in the snow, followed by a cozy fire, a cup of coffee, and a good book.
Why is your featured book a cure for the winter blues?
This series sparks creativity, and the cast has engaging characters who make you imagine being at the Creative Workshop, hanging out with these fun, artistic people.
Giveaway –
One lucky reader will win a $100 Amazon gift card.
Open internationally.
Runs March 1 – 31, 2025
Drawing will be held on April 1, 2025.
Author Biography:
Sydney Abrams’ arts and crafts cozy mystery series is steeped in a life’s experience in the arts coupled with a love for mystery books. She was immersed in both these worlds from childhood, and that influence stayed with her as an adult. Sydney has created artwork for auctions and commissions, and has been part of an art group of professional and amateur artists for twenty years. Literature and the arts go hand in hand, but these worlds collided when Sydney realized that her art group offered up the perfect cast of characters for a cozy mystery.
Sydney currently lives in Stowe, VT with her husband and their big scruffy dog, Charlie.
Still Life, Still Dead, is the first book in her Alex Montgomery Arts and Crafts Mystery series.
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