One crucial second after my son’s big fluffy tuxedo cat Cookie jumped onto my back as I pulled into child’s pose, my phone twinked. Cookie startled and dug in his claws, then jumped off and ran into the kitchen.

I knew I’d pay for that later. Probably in turkey.

Wincing, I unfolded myself and grabbed the phone. So much for yoga. The sight of the email flag hurt more than the scratches on my back. Too early for anyone from my office at the Historical Society. It had to be Brett Studebaker again.

Yes, that Brett Studebaker.

The Sexiest Man emeritus is shooting a movie in my small Connecticut town, and I’m consulting on clothes, household items, and such. Which means I’m at his service anytime he has a thought about his costume or props.

He’s playing The Reverend, the lead in a production “loosely based on The Scarlet Letter with the universal resonance of forbidden love,” as the Filmagic press release puts it. What I’ve seen so far has had the universal resonance of Velveeta.

Like many women, and plenty of men, who were teens in the late 20th century, I once had a crush on Studebaker. That was before the daily dozen emails about everything from how The Reverend would shave with a straight razor — carefully! — to how he put on his socks — one at a time! Today?

Underwear.

A quarter-century ago, the idea of discussing boxers versus briefs with Brett Studebaker would have been thrilling. Now, not so much.

I should say here, there was nothing naughty about the question. As far as I could tell, Studebaker wasn’t interested in creeping on anyone, never mind scruffy, grownup me. He just genuinely needed to understand everything about his character, from the skin out, heaven help us.

“Ma! My Fire isn’t working!”

Studebaker and his unmentionables would have to wait a bit. Henry, my eight-year-old son, was awake and clearly hoping to get a spin on his favorite video game before breakfast.

Not just yet.

“How are your numbers?” I asked.

No response. Henry, dark-haired and tall for his age, loped into the living room, his face screwed up in a scowl, the tablet drooping from one hand. “It didn’t come on.”

“Did you charge it last night?” I took the device. It was indeed dead.

“Aw, darn it. I left it by the bed.”

“Let’s plug it in and check you. Then we’ll see.”

Henry sighed.

I turned on my desktop computer. “Number check and you can play on mine while yours charges.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. You think I’d let you start the day without Dragon Race?”

He beamed. By the time my computer was up, I knew Henry’s blood sugar numbers were fine and his insulin pump working. It’s how we start the day now that Henry has Type-1 Diabetes.

“You play,” I said, “I’ll start the oatmeal.”

“KABOOM!” Henry yelled as something that looked like a giant dragon with wheels exploded onscreen.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” Popped the oatmeal into the microwave – just plain quick oats with cinnamon – you wouldn’t believe the amount of sugar in the instant packets! Then I returned to Studebaker.

Paused for a second, wondering how historically accurate I wanted to be.

“Meow!” Cookie nipped my ankle. I still owed him.

The phone twinked again.

Fine. Dude asked for it.

Actually, I typed, a lot of men didn’t wear underpants as we understand them. They wore long shirts and sort of tucked the end around everything. I could draw you a diagram if you need one.

Good morning to you, too, Mr. Movie Star.

The Stuff Of Murder, An Old Stuff Mystery Book #1
Genre: Cozy Mystery
Release: November 2023
Format: Print, Digital
Purchase Link

When Hollywood comes to small-town Connecticut, it should be the stuff of dreams—but when a fading movie star ends up dead, a whole different kind of stuff hits the fan.

Unity Historical Society head and antique household items—stuff!—expert Christian Shaw is on set when actor Brett Studebaker falls from the pulpit during a streaming service shoot in an old church. She, the “dads she should have had,” Garrett and Ed, her son Henry, who has a photographic memory and Type-1 Diabetes, and her colorful friends end up helping Assistant State’s Attorney Joe Poli track the killer. Along for the ride: her giant tuxedo cat, Cookie, Ed and Garrett’s big red mutt, Norm, and Joe’s tiny dog, Cannoli. Woodworking, embroidery, old poisons, and vintage weapons all figure in the case, which comes together in a wild scene at the Historical Society on Fourth-Grade Field Trip Day.

About the author
Kathleen Marple Kalb describes herself as an Author/Anchor/Mom…not in that order. An award-winning weekend anchor at New York’s 1010 WINS Radio, she writes short stories and novels including The Stuff of Murder, and the upcoming Ella Shane mystery, A Fatal Reception, both from Level Best Books. As Nikki Knight, she writes the Grace the Hit Mom and Vermont Radio mysteries. Her stories have appeared in Alfred Hitchcock’s Mystery Magazine, Black Cat Weekly, and others, and been short-listed for Derringer and Black Orchid Novella Awards. She, her husband, and son live in a Connecticut house owned by their cat.

Connect with Kathleen at her website at kathleenmarplekalb.com, Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram.