Title:
Widow’s Walk, Martha’s Vineyard Murders Book 3
Author:
Raemi A. Ray
Genre:
Mystery
Book Blurb:
Murder’s on the menu…
Attorney Kyra Gibson has a lot on her mind this Thanksgiving. She’s been working long hours on a multi-billion dollar corporate merger, her family is visiting from London, and her relationship with former police detective Tarek Collins is heating up. When she and her companions are invited by her aristocrat client to attend a formal gala at a historic mansion on Chappaquiddick, Kyra reluctantly agrees.
But Chappy is more than just a playground for the wealthy. It’s a wild, remote place cut off from civilization. When the first body is found, the occupants are worried. Was it an accident or murder? When a second guest is brutally killed and then a third, there’s no doubt and the guests fearfully turn on each other. They are locked in a house with a murderer picking them off one-by-one. Kyra, her best friend Chase Hawthorn, and Tarek must survive the night and find the killer, or one of them could be next.
Excerpt:
The heavy shopping bags hit the foyer floor. The contents tumbled out. Kyra Gibson looked down at the mess she’d made with dismay. She let out a weary sigh and rubbed her forehead with the back of her mittened hand. The tiny grocery store serving her side of Martha’s Vineyard had been utter bedlam. She should have known better than to go shopping the day before Thanksgiving. She’d been in life-or-death situations before, recently, but she’d experienced nothing as harrowing as fighting off other holiday procrastinators hunting down last-minute ingredients.
Kyra slipped her mitten off and rubbed the back of her hand, where a pale bruise was already forming. She’d nearly lost it, her hand and her patience, when a woman ripped the last tube of store brand crescent rolls from her grip. Her shoulder throbbed, and she rolled it back, wincing when the pain escalated to a sharp twinge. It wasn’t yet a chronic condition, but it certainly was committed to becoming one.
A bang, followed by a muffled curse, came from the kitchen. Her aunt’s voice was just discernable over the television blaring from the living room. Kyra grinned and bit down on her lip to keep from laughing.
“I’m back,” she called loud enough to be heard over the unusual racket.
“Kay!” Her uncle’s head popped up from the couch.
His dark brown hair flopped over the rims of his tortoiseshell frames, making him look more disheveled and brainier than usual. He readjusted his glasses and squinted at her. His bright blue eyes crinkled at the corners when he grinned.
He pointed to the bags at her feet. “How was it?”
“Cam, can you call Kyra and tell her we need olives? Those lovely Spanish green ones like we get at Sainsbury’s.” Kyra’s Aunt Ali walked into the living room, her eyes on her phone.
“I’m not going back out there.”
Ali looked up, ready to protest.
“No, Ali.” Kyra held up her hands. “It’s straight madness out there. The Americans have all gone insane.” Kyra wrestled out of her light blue parka and hung it in the coat closet.
It wasn’t the right shade for her warm-toned complexion. The faux fur trim was atrocious, and it was puffy in all the wrong places. She felt like her arms stuck straight out when she wore it, but it had been on clearance, and more importantly, it was warm. So warm. Too impatient to wait on the island’s sluggish postal service, Kyra had gone to the quirky general-slash-discount trading post to get it, along with fleece-lined boots, and other cold weather accessories that made her look ridiculous and left her hair staticky, but she wouldn’t dare trade in her winter gear for anything more fashionable.
She’d unofficially, and presumably temporarily, moved to Martha’s Vineyard from London in July. She hadn’t planned on staying so long, but August turned into September, and then October, and suddenly it was cold. Frigid. Winter in New England didn’t come on gradually, easing the residents in. Oh no. It swept in without warning, like some spiteful arctic spirit. The heat and humidity of summer had been replaced with bone-chilling winds and rains that lashed horizontally. It felt like she’d gone from wearing shorts and T-shirts to anoraks and boots almost overnight.
Ali inventoried the groceries on the floor, her hands on her hips. Kyra’s harried expression must have convinced her she wasn’t going back out, because when Ali looked back up at her niece, she pressed her lips together, thinking, and said, “It’s fine. We’ll do with what we have. It’ll be brilliant.” She stuffed the escaped items back in the bags and hoisted up three. A soft grunt escaped her lips, and Kyra raised her eyebrow at her aunt. Grinning, Ali turned toward the kitchen.
“What time does everyone get here?” Kyra asked, heaving the remaining bags to her shoulder. She bit back a grimace when the pinching sensation intensified.
“Less than an hour. Cam,” Ali called back over her shoulder. “Can you get Iggy up from his nap? And you’ll both need to change.”
Cam stood and stretched. He ran his hands down his rumpled button down.
“Aye, m’eudail.” He turned back to Kyra. “What does one wear to American Thanksgiving?”
Buy Links (including Goodreads and BookBub):
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What makes your featured book a must-read?
They’re fun, beachy mysteries? I guess?
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Author Biography:
Raemi A. Ray is the author of the Martha’s Vineyard Murders series. She takes inspiration from her travels to the island and around the world as well as from local and national headlines. Most of her books are based somewhat on real life. When not writing or working her other boring job, she earns her keep as the personal assistant to the resident house demons, Otto and DolphLundgren. She lives in Boston with her family.
Social Media Links:
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/RaemiRay/
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/miss_raemi/
Bluesky: @missraemi.bsky.social