Hi! I’m Mallory Hemingway. Yes, that Hemingway—distant cousin twice removed or something like that. Trust me, no one in Ernest Hemingway’s family would know who I am, but it’s my only claim to fame. Well that and I happen to stumble upon dead bodies more than the average person.

I live with my cantankerous cat, Watson, one of the polydactyl cats that are so popular here at the Hemingway Home and Museum. He has a tendency to attack my ankles with his death claws when he feels he hasn’t been fed properly. But don’t be fooled, he’s quite chubby these days from all the extra tuna fish I’ve been giving him. We’ve both been stress eating. Tuna for him and banana moon pies for me.

My job as the nighttime caretaker is pretty much a dream gig, working while I’m sleeping. You know, just making sure no one breaks in and swims naked in Hemingway’s infamous pool. Yep, that happened. Or worse, making sure there’s not a dead body floating in said pool. Yep, also happened. Things have calmed down a bit since Pirate Pete’s early demise and my narrow escape from death. I’ve adopted Hemingway’s schedule, up early to write for several hours and then exploring the beauty of Key West in the afternoons and evenings.

Fortunately, the job and the near death experiences I’ve had over the last six months have had the unexpected benefit of giving me plenty of ideas for my Agatha Christie-style novel. Finding dead bodies and facing off with murderers sometimes has that effect.

When I’m not channeling my inner Hemingway, sleeping, or confronting crazy pirates with foul-mouthed birds (foul, fowl. Get it?), you can find me with my best friend, Juniper (Juni) Jones sitting on the beach sipping drinks and eating fish tacos, or conquering my fear of drowning during scuba diving lessons with the hunky Huck Jameson. That is, if we’re not trying to kill each other. Murder seems to be the theme these days.

Today I’m meeting Juni at our corner for our afternoon out, starting with a stroll down Duval Street, a hot spot in Key West with over one hundred bars tucked into a few blocks. As you can imagine, life gets pretty wild here. Loud music pumps into the streets mingling together to create a cacophony of contradicting styles, parrots seated on pirate’s shoulders squawk their hellos as we pass by, and a man leads his chihuahua down the street, both wearing identical pink tutus.

“Want to take a picture with me? Ten dollars and I’ll even let you hold my chihuahua!”

“No thanks! What’s her name?”

“Harold.” He turns away in search of a tourist he can dupe. Juni and I giggle about the tutu-wearing chihuahua named Harold and the double entendre as we approach Ernesta’s Food Truck. Her mojo shrimp tacos and Key Lime Margaritas are to die for, and her quirky hippie-vibe always brings a smile to my face. Just don’t smoke a cigar with her. I promise you, you’ll get more than you bargained for.

We take in the hustle and bustle of Mallory Square as tourists line up to view the large concrete buoy indicating the southernmost point of the United States. It’s easy to get lost in people watching, but today, we have another destination in mind.

Huck’s Fins.

Juni loops her arm through mine as we walk to the docks, and my heart skips a beat when I see the delectable Huck standing in front of his boat Chesty Diver. Oh please. Get your mind out of the gutter. Chesty is the Marine Corp mascot.

Since I’m not quite ready to do the scuba thing with the two of them, we’ve decided on a nice trip out to sea to swim with dolphins. Huck found a spot where they congregate and has been promising to take me there.

When we arrive, Juni and I jump in without a second thought. She’s swimming around like a fish in her cute boho-style bikini, while I’m wrapped up in a floatation device. Scared of drowning, remember? Huck jumps in after me, and puts an arm around my waist.

“You ok?”

Well I was until he got so close I could see the gray flecks in his light blue eyes. My breathing gets all funny, and my belly feels like ants are crawling around in there, but sure. Just fine, thank you very much.

Several dolphins swim up, but they stay just out of reach. It doesn’t matter. The experience still brings tears to my eyes and sharing this moment with Juni and Huck makes it all the more special.

As the sun sets, we venture back to shore, the wind in my hair and joy in my heart.

It’s a hard life, but someone has to live it. I mean, if you disregard the murder and mayhem, and the giant target I seem to have on my back.

Perhaps, it’s time to stop putting my nose where it doesn’t belong. Only, what’s the fun in that?

A Farewell To Murder is the first book in the NEW “Southernmost” cozy mystery series, released April 21, 2020.

Mallory Hemingway is living the dream.

Ok, well, maybe not the dream, but it’s a promising start to her brand new life. When Mallory lands the nighttime caretaker position at the home and museum of her long-lost cousin Ernest Hemingway, she finds living in funky Key West is better than she could have imagined.

A hippie best friend who challenges her, a hunky scuba diver instructor who might have the hots for her, a cat that sometimes tolerates her, and plenty of free time to write the next great American novel—or find the next dead body … whichever comes first!

Only someone keeps leaving the gate open at the Hemingway Home and everyone is pointing their fingers at Mallory. The threatening messages and a pirate’s creepy warnings are just the beginning of a string of incidents that are intended to scare Mallory away.

When a dead body is found floating in Hemingway’s famous pool, Mallory is terminated from her caretaker position and forced to figure out who is setting her up to take the fall. Nasty co-workers, a massive lay-off plan, black market kittens, Hemingway look-a-likes for days, and a dead body combine into a smorgasbord of potential suspects, leading Mallory to race to save her job, the Hemingway Home, and maybe even her life.

Put on some tea or grab an ice cold lemonade, because you won’t be able to put this one down until you get to the end!

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About the authors
Kimberly Griggs is a story-teller at heart. Whether sharing about my latest grocery trip or about the characters in my head, I’m committed to all the details—much to my husband’s dismay. Fortunately, he’s a good sport! When I’m not writing, you can find me making music, watching a story on the big screen, and of course, reading as many books as my schedule will allow. I’m living my own personal romance story with my wonderful husband of 20+ years. We have two wild and crazy boys, as well as two dogs that think they’re humans. I live in Northern VA near Washington, D.C. Visit her website at kimberlygriggsauthor.com.

David Berens has traveled up and down the East Coast and has been a tourist at every beach from Key West to Pawleys Island. Today he calls Knoxville, Tennessee home, but constantly dreams of sun and sand and ocean breezes. He has a beautiful wife, a rambunctious little girl and a happy little boy who remind him daily of why he is alive. Visit his website at tropicalthrillers.com.

All comments are welcomed.