When I wake up in the morning, the dog is still there, clawing at the front door. Amore the cat glares at me, as if to say, “How could you have brought that loathsome creature home?”

Before I explain, here’s a little background. My name is Kathryn Stinson. I’m a Boston library curator, and I’m here in New Nottingham in the Berkshire Hills of Western Massachusetts to solve a family mystery: the identity of a nameless beauty in an old photograph an ancestor carried with him to California over a century ago.

Back to the dog. Yesterday I drove up Rattlesnake Hill to visit a family plot, where the woman in the photograph, whose name I now know was Marguerite, is buried. The plot belongs to the Barkers, a local clan known for their violent tempers, and it’s unlike any graveyard I’ve ever seen. Situated on a steep, rocky hill, it overlooks the Barker compound: a collection of ramshackle, dark timbered buildings.

I was about to leave my car to get a better look, when I was surrounded by a pack of snarling mongrels. They reared up on their hindlegs, scratching the metal of the car, snapping at the windows, and slobbering on the glass. This went on until they finally lost interest and straggled off. All but one mangy beast who followed me back to the house I’m renting, and who refuses to leave.

The dog must have heard me moving about, because he starts howling. With a look of disgust, Amore gets up and repositions himself, so he’s facing away from me. “Deal with it,” I imagine him saying.

I do what I did the last time I needed help, when someone put a rattlesnake that turned out to be stuffed in the house. I call Hank Lapsley, who’s the police around here. He says that since it’s the Barkers’ dog, they should get it, and not to bother him again unless it’s a real emergency.

The Barker I know best is Earl, and for reasons I won’t go into here, I’m hesitant to call him. But if I don’t, I’ll remain a prisoner in the house. Earl shows up, gets the dog, then insists that I put out a hand for it to lick, which it does. Who knew this seemingly vicious animal was a slush puppy?

When Earl finds out about my attempt to visit the cemetery, he offers to take me there. I’m happy to have a guide, but once I’m in his truck riding up the hill, I become nervous. It’s unseasonably hot for November, and even with the windows open, the truck feels like an oven. The whirring of the snake rattle that dangles from the rearview mirror doesn’t help. The first time I got in his truck and saw that rattle, I nearly jumped out. But I don’t want to seem like a wuss, so I pretend not to notice it.

In a casual voice, I ask if there are any rattlesnakes where we’re going.

“Matter of fact, there are,” Earl replies. “But don’t worry, they won’t be out this late in the year. Usually they have a last big meal, spend some time digesting it, and disappear into their dens for the winter.”

“Sure?” I say, trying not to sound worried.

He doesn’t answer, just shrugs.

I’m tempted to bail, but if I don’t visit the Barker family plot, I’ll never fully understand why Marguerite was moved from the town cemetery, where she was originally buried, to this one. People do strange things here, but this is beyond bizarre.

When we arrive at the compound, we’re immediately surrounded by barking mongrels. At a signal from Earl, they fall silent and bow their heads. Earl and I walk to the foot of the rocky hill where the cemetery is. “There isn’t much of a trail,” he says. “So follow me.”

Then he turns away, the corners of his mouth curling upward in a smile.

You can read more about Kathryn in Rattlesnake Hill, the first book in the NEW “Berkshire Hilltown” mystery series.

It’s November in the Berkshires, a dreary time of dwindling light when the tourists have fled along with the last gasp of fall foliage. So when a stranger shows up in the sleepy hilltown of New Nottingham and starts asking questions, the locals don’t exactly roll out the welcome wagon.

Bostonian Kathryn Stinson is on a deeply personal quest to solve a family mystery: the identity of a nameless beauty in an old photograph an ancestor brought with him to California over a century ago. But, as Kathryn quickly discovers, the hills possess a host of dark secrets – both ancient and new – that can only be revealed at the price of danger and even death.

Her suspicious neighbors on Rattlesnake Hill, named for the timber rattlers that haunt its rocky slopes, become openly hostile when Kathryn starts seeking answers to a more recent mystery: the murder of Diana Farley, who once occupied the house Kathryn is now renting. Was it Diana’s husband, who killed her to keep her from divorcing him, or her lover, Earl Barker, a backwoods charmer and leading member of a wild clan known for their violent tempers?

When Kathryn plunges into a passionate affair with Earl, she puts herself on a collision course with past and present. She must find out if Earl killed Diana, or risk becoming a victim herself.

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Meet the author
An award-winning author of books about American history and biographies, Leslie Wheeler has written three Living History Mysteries. Rattlesnake Hill is the first book in a new series of Berkshire Hilltown Mysteries. Leslie’s short stories have appeared in numerous Best New England Crime Stories anthologies, published by Level Best Books, and in Day of the Dark, Stories of Eclipse. She divides her time between Cambridge, Massachusetts and a home in the Berkshires. You can visit her at lesliewheeler.com.

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