By Patricia Sprinkle
With grown-up young children and a husband continually at the street, Katharine Murray's nest will be empty if it were not for her Aunt Lucy—until the aged girl dies. Now Katharine's saddled along with her Aunt's worldly belongings—mostly knickknacks destined for the dumpster. yet there is a helpful Celtic necklace one of the dross—and a diary written in German, neither of which Katharine's ever noticeable sooner than. made up our minds to determine the place those items got here from, Katharine unwittingly discovers a department of her genealogy she by no means knew existed—namely Aunt Lucy's brother Carter, murdered greater than fifty years in the past after a mysterious journey to Austria. And whilst Lucy's artifacts are stolen, and the most suspect turns up useless, Katharine realizes she needs to clear up a housebreaking and unsolved homicides separated by means of a half-century . . . ahead of greater than her family members secrets and techniques turn out useless and buried.
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Additional info for Death on the Family Tree (Family Tree Mysteries, No. 1)
At breakfast, trying to be nice, I offered to give up my whole day to go look at wallpaper and floorings. I knew she was going to be out most of the day at some birthday party, but I figured I could get some ideas for what might look pretty up there, you know? ” Posey’s voice trembled and Katharine knew her blue eyes were wide with indignation under her tousled blond curls. She slid the clipping back into the book. She would try to read it when she found her dictionary. Right then it was a distraction she didn’t need.
While Posey answered, she lifted the flap and peered inside. All she saw were a small book and something wrapped in what looked like a piece of old white sheet. Posey gave a huff of disgust. “You know Wrens. Nothing ever fazes him. He told her, ‘Do whatever you want to with the place, Shug. Fix it up however you like and put it on my card. ” Katharine lifted out the book and began to turn its pages. ” “I know, but—” Posey started off again down the trail of why she didn’t think Holly ought to be living alone instead of with other people.
They lived on the Hill, a gated Buckhead estate that most of their neighbors had never been inside. Napoleon Ivorie, who was surely over ninety and was a recluse, lived in the original mansion. He had built a second for his daughter, Rowena Slade, and a third for Rowena’s son, Brandon. Brandon was simultaneously the most conservative and the most radical twig that the family tree had produced. At twenty-eight, he was a fiery advocate of widespread and, if necessary, violent action against those he despised.