I’d love to tell you the “normal” days in my life have outnumbered the weird ones since I left the Chicago art scene and moved back to my small town of Apple Grove. I became executive director of an art center named after my sculptor mother, but that was when the “normal” days ended. A burglary at the art center and a dead body buried in the basement were just the beginning of my adventures with my BFF, Angie. Angie and I have known each other since grade school, and we’re always up for an adventure or two, but lately “adventure” hardly seems like the right word.

Take last night. I stopped at my art center after hours to pick up a copy of The Historical Archives of Lincoln County. I’d borrowed it from a friend when I needed to research the 1870 Lowry Building that became the Adele Marsden Center for the Arts. Lately, several strange things have occurred at work—including the disappearance of my favorite pen—and I thought if I researched the history of the building, I might find a ghost or two. I went into my office and saw the book on the loveseat. Grabbing it, I walked back out toward the side door.

A deep voice came out of the gallery. Male. Not Chad’s, my custodian.

“Aren’t you going to talk to me?”

I stopped cold, my hands shook, and I dropped the book. No one should be here except me. Fighting the impulse to turn around, I took slow, deep breaths.

“I tried to get your attention with the writing implement in your office. You seem like someone I could converse with.” Deep voice, almost sonorous.

I slowly turned around, my eyes stopping on a figure in the shadows of the stage we were using for a reader’s theater. The voice came from a man about ten feet away, sitting on a chair on the stage. My hand flew to my chest. I think I must have gasped. He was dressed formally in a three-piece suit. The short, single-breasted, kohl-gray jacket looked like it was tweed. A dark vest covered a white shirt with a high collar and bow tie. Dove-gray pants rose from tall black boots. He had the look of someone long ago, with black hair parted on the left side, a scar snaking up his right cheek, a generous moustache, and a pointed beard.

“How did you get in here?” I asked once I found my voice and was proud that I’d spoken with a decisive tone.

“I have always resided here. This is my building. You are the one who is trespassing.”

Then it struck me—his identity. I’d seen his photo on the genealogy site. “Daniel Lowry?”

He stood and bowed. “At your service, madame.”

“But this is impossible. You’re dead. You’ve been dead for a hundred and twenty-five years or more.”

“Alas, I am despondent about that unfortunate occurrence. But I try to make the best of it.”

See what I mean? Talking to a handsome ghost? Is this normal? And this was only the beginning…

Death In A Ghostly Hue, An Art Center Mystery Book #3
Genre: Cozy Mystery
Release: July 2024
Format: Print, Digital
Purchase Link

The past never leaves us…

Jill Madison and her brothers have never forgiven Quinn Parsons for driving drunk and killing their parents. How could they? When Parsons returns to Apple Grove from his six years in prison, he’s looking for redemption. But his thoughtless actions, so long ago, hurt more residents than the Madisons, and murderous motives abound when it comes to Quinn Parsons. His lifeless body is soon found at the bottom of a staircase. And who threatened him in front of a large cross-section of the town? Jill’s brother, Andy Madison.

When Andy is arrested and charged with murder, Jill and her bestie, Angie Emerson, seek to prove his innocence without forgetting that if Andy is not the killer, someone else is—someone dangerous who may be watching.

Meanwhile, the Old Friends senior group at Jill’s art center is rehearsing a radio-play of Oscar Wilde’s “The Canterville Ghost,” a ghostly story of forgiveness. Strange happenings convince Jill there’s a real ghost at the art center. To prove to herself she’s not going crazy, she begins to investigate the center’s dark history.

She discovers the past is never far away.

About the author
Susan Van Kirk is a Midwest writer, living in downstate Illinois. Her writings include the Endurance Mysteries, a smalltown series republished by Harlequin Worldwide Mystery. A Death at Tippitt Pond is a standalone mystery. Her Art Center series includes Death in a Pale Hue, Death in a Bygone Hue, and Death in a Ghostly Hue. She is a member of Mystery Writers of America, Sisters in Crime, and is Past President of the Guppy Chapter of Sisters in Crime. Her website and blog are at susanvankirk.com.