This morning, I have given full rein to my imagination. Please suspend reality with me and travel to Levi, Oklahoma, during a cold, snowy winter. Darcy Campbell, the lead character in Barbara’s and my mother/daughter sleuths trilogy, is going to introduce you to a few of the characters you will meet in her latest cozy mystery, Best Left Buried. The italicized parts (except for the thought for the day at the end) are direct quotes from Best Left Buried. You won’t meet the characters in the order of their importance, but in the order they appear in the book. Okay, Darcy, take it away!
Good morning. The story opens with me making an abrupt trip to the building site of a new house Mom and I are planning to build. Cub Dabbins called me out to where he is excavating for the basement. The wind is cold; I have not had my breakfast, and I am not too happy with our bulldozer driver:
Cub was well-known throughout my hometown of Levi as the best heavy equipment operator in two counties but he also had a reputation for being excitable and the world’s worst gossip. For example, when he was digging the water line for the new court house last year, he uncovered some bones and before notifying the sheriff, he called the Oklahoma State Bureau of Investigation and told them he had uncovered a body. His find turned out to be the bones of a cow which had probably died when the area was farmland.
Earlier, Mom and I are joined by a homeless cat who needs food, shelter, and a loving home. We have plenty of all three of those things and, it’s like the story Blanche wrote about Jake and his cat, Fred; a house is not a home without a cat.
“What is that sound?” I asked, hearing some sort of rustling come across the line.
“Jethro! That cat thinks all these papers on the table are his playthings. Get back, Jethro.”
“Good luck, Mom,” I said. “He does have a few bad habits.”
“He’s worth the trouble.” Mom sighed as I heard more sounds. “I guess.”
When the yellow and white tomcat appeared on our doorstep a few weeks ago, badly needing care and attention, we welcomed him in. Isn’t it good luck when cats decide to favor someone with their presence?
Then there’s my mother, my best friend and cohort in all three mysteries. It is hard to look at my mother objectively. She is smart, kind, loving, my confidant, and makes the best cup of coffee in Ventris County. What can I say? She’s my mom:
Mom sprang from her car, a small woman, her short gray hair in loose curls around her face. She moved and spoke like a person who was much younger than her nearly seven decades on this earth. Though my hair was dark and I wore it longer than Mom wore hers, our Cherokee heritage was clearly evident in our shared high cheekbones. As I aged, I suspected I would resemble her even more.
An important character in the story, who is there at the beginning as well as the end, is Mom’s and my friend, Burke Hopkins:
For as long as I could remember, Burke Hopkins had been a fixture in Levi and Ventris County. He was Cherokee and he lived on a farm just beyond town. If Levi could be thought of as a tapestry, Burke Hopkins would be a colorful thread, appearing and then disappearing in the pattern, lending richness and depth to the fabric of life here in this small town. Mr. Hopkins was the sort of character that locals liked to point out to visitors. He preferred living alone on his small farm with his two dogs and a flock of laying hens to the company of townfolk. Maybe it was because he was a rich store of Cherokee lore that he occupied a special niche in the hearts of long-time Levi residents. He had the reputation for knowing about the healing powers of herbs, and some said he still believed in many of the ways of his ancestors. I knew a couple of people who claimed Burke had cured them from an illness that stumped the doctors. Anyone Burke counted as a friend felt blessed. My mother and I were two of those fortunate people.
And there you have a few of the people (well, one animal) who you will meet in the first chapters of Best Left Buried. Tomorrow, I invite you back to Blanche’s blog to meet a few more.
My hope for you, my readers: May your day be blessed with a lively curiosity, a warm reading nook, and a bountiful supply of your favorite cozy mysteries!
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