Roses are Dead, My Love

I’m turning my blog over to Penny Clover Peterson today. I know you’ll show her some love.


by Penny Clover Petersen
released by Intrigue Publishing, May 1, 2015

Pour yourself a cup of tea or, if you’ve a mind to, a nice little Cosmo, find a comfy spot, and enjoy my second Daisy&Rose Mystery, ROSES ARE DEAD, MY LOVE. This time around Daisy and Rose Forrest, distracted entrepreneurs and cocktail loving amateur sleuths, take on a nasty blackmailing killer. Once again aided by their eccentric mother, Angela, and their trusty canine companion, Malcolm, the ladies follow the clues to catch this villain who has a serious bent for bashing heads before Rose becomes the next victim.


They (Daisy and Rose) got back to Champagne Taste, put Malcolm in the backyard, and entered the house through the private entrance on the far end of the front porch. Daisy threw the tote onto the small table in the entry hall, and she and Rose ran upstairs to get showers. Dressed and re-made-up Daisy came down the stairs and opened the door in the small hallway that led directly into the shop.
Roscoe, their golden tabby cat, had pulled the tote off the little table and was batting it for all he was worth.
“What’s the deal, Roscoe? Is there a tiny, little mailman in there?”
As she lifted the cat and started scratching his tummy, the bag caught on Roscoe’s paw and everything spilled out.
Daisy muttered “Oops,” then let out an earsplitting scream as a sinewy, black body slithered through the letters toward her foot. She dropped Roscoe with a thud and jumped back up the stairs.
Rose ran down the stairs and collided with Daisy. “What are you screaming about?”
“Snake! Snake! Right there. It’s a snake,” screamed Daisy putting a vise-grip on Rose’s arm and pointing to the table.
“Hells bells! How did a snake get in here?”
“I think we carried it home in that tote bag. What do we do now?”
“First, you let go of my arm. You’re cutting off the circulation.”
“Oh, sorry. I don’t like snakes.”
“Well, where is it?” asked Rose as she cautiously crept down the stairs.
Daisy pointed and said, “Right there, next to the table.” Only it wasn’t. “Oh my God, where is it!”
“Holy mackerel, we have a snake on the loose. Where’s Roscoe?”
The question wasn’t out of her mouth when Roscoe walked in from the shop with something black and slinky wriggling in his mouth. He walked up to Rose and dropped it at her feet where it lay for a moment apparently contemplating its fate. Then it started slithering again.
“Roscoe, pick that thing up,” she yelled as she jumped back onto the staircase colliding with Daisy for a second time. Daisy screamed again even louder and tripped over her own feet almost knocking Rose down the steps.
“Oh for God’s sake, cut it out, would you?” cried Rose as she caught herself.
“Sorry. Again. I just really don’t like snakes,” said Daisy.
“And I do? We need to be calm.”
Roscoe gave them a baleful stare. Then he picked the snake up in his mouth again and sat there waiting for instructions.
“Okay, Roscoe. Outside. Take it outside. NOW!” Rose ordered as she darted past the cat and the snake and pushed open the outside door, then jumped back to the steps. But Roscoe just hunkered down with the snake under his paw teasing the poor thing.
“Look. He’s grinning at us,” said Rose. “Go. Get. Take your friend outside.”
There was a tap on the door and a man poked his head in. “You need some help? I heard someone screaming.”
“Brad! Hi. A little snake problem. We seem to have brought one home with us and Roscoe apparently wants to adopt it. Daisy and I aren’t too hot on the idea, and we’re having trouble convincing him to let it go.”
He looked down. Roscoe had the snake in his mouth again and was heading back to the shop.
“Stop him!”
In a swift motion Brad caught Roscoe under the legs and pried the hapless reptile out of his jaws. Holding it behind its head, he took it outside.
A minute later he came back in. “All taken care of. Relax. It was only a little black snake. They’re harmless.”
“So I’ve heard. Still, snakes! Ghastly,” replied Daisy with a shudder.

Best Cover 1Buy Roses are Dead, My Love on Amazon

Penny Clover Petersen began writing at age fifty-nine on a dare from her husband. The result is her Daisy&Rose Mystery Series, modern cozies featuring cocktail loving sisters Daisy and Rose Forrest as small town shop owners who just can’t seem to get through a day without tripping over a dead body.

Penny lives with her husband and three feral cats in Bowie Maryland. In addition to writing, she enjoys spending time with her family, refurbishing old furniture, collecting stories and recipes for the ‘family cookbook’, and savoring new cocktail recipes. She loves historic homes and is a docent at Riversdale Mansion in Riverdale, MD. Penny is currently at work on her third Daisy&Rose mystery.


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