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I was strolling down 75th Street on the Upper East Side when I heard someone call my name.

It’s hard to stop and turn around on a sidewalk in New York when a gazillion people are tramping in the opposite direction. I thought I was imagining things, but then I heard it again.

“Josiah! JOSIAH REYNOLDS!!”

I ducked into a doorway and cautiously peered around a column. There did indeed appear to be a rotund lady wrapped in a beige cashmere coat with matching leopard printed hat and gloves, hoofing to where I was hiding–I mean waiting. Okay. I was hiding.

Out of breath, she started to go into the building under whose portico I had taken refuge, when she spied me behind the marble edifice. “Josiah Reynolds. I thought that was you. Then I thought, no, it couldn’t be. June told me you were visiting New York, and that I should call you, and that’s exactly what I was going to do this afternoon, but then poof–there you were, right in front of me. I never thought my luck could be that good.” She peered closely at me. “You are Josiah Reynolds, are you not, the woman who lives next door to Lady Elsmere? I was tempted to call you Josie. Josiah’s such an unusual name for a woman.”

“And you are?” I asked. Hey, I wasn’t going to admit who I was. This woman could be a bill collector or a hit man for all I knew.

Don’t jump to conclusions. I am not paranoid.

“I am Bunny Witt of the Philadelphia Witts, not to be confused with the Boston Whitts. They spell their name differently, with an h.”. . .

“The Carlyle Hotel is just around the corner. Let me buy you a drink at Bemelmans Bar and I can explain my predicament.” She gave my arm a little tug. “Just give me twenty minutes. Please.”

“You buying?”

“Assuredly.”

“In that case, you can have twenty-two minutes of my time.”. . .

“Please get to the point, Bunny.”

“Yes. Yes. To the point. Josiah,” she said, laying her hand on my arm, which kept me from taking a much-needed drink of my pink champagne. What was the point of getting a free cocktail if one couldn’t drink it? I wanted to shake her hand off, but she hung on to me like a tick on a hound. She looked around and then leaned toward me. “I think someone is stalking me.”

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Josiah Reynolds could hardly believe she heard someone call out her name as she strolled down 75th Street in New York City. With the promise of a free drink, Bunny Witt, of the Philadelphia Witts, steered Josiah into nearby Bemelmans Bar where she proceeded to unfold a tale about being stalked by a mysterious stranger.

It seems that Bunny’s apartments in London, New York, and Lexington, Kentucky have been broken into and carefully searched, yet nothing seems to have been taken.

Bunny claims she has no idea what this mystery person could want from her. However she is desperate for someone to help her find out who is tormenting her and why. She has decided that someone should be our Josiah!

This chance encounter in the Big Apple leads Josiah into the world of haute couture, mysterious princes from India, precious gems, and . . . murder!

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Fast Facts

Series: Josiah Reynolds Mysteries, Book 9

Publisher: Worker Bee Press

Genre: Mystery

Length: 190 pages

Format: eBook & print

ISBN:  978-0-9906782-7-4

Books

Printable Booklist

Josiah Reynolds Mysteries

Saga of the de Magela Family

A Last Chance For Love

Connected Books: JOSIAH REYNOLDS MYSTERIES


Death By A Honey Bee

Book 1

Death By Drowning

Book 2

Death By Bridle

Book 3

Death By Bourbon

Book 4

Death By Lotto

Book 5

Death By Chocolate

Book 6

Death By Haunting

Book 7

Death By Derby

Book 8