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Pleasantly Dead

About the book
About the author
Excerpt

Trevor and Margaret Rudley have had their share of misfortunes at The Pleasant Inn, the cherished Ontario cottage-country hotel they've owned for twenty-five years. There have been boating accidents, accidental poisonings, and then there was that unfortunate ski-lift incident. But this year their hopes are high for the summer season. However, barely a week goes by and their hopes dashed. There’s a dead body making a nuisance of itself in the wine cellar, and it’s nobody the Rudleys know.

The guests at The Pleasant Inn, a wealthy and eccentric lot, are dying for distraction, and one of them, Miss Miller, sets out to solve the case of the deceased, relying on wild speculation, huge leaps of logic, and the assistance of her great admirer, Edward Simpson, who is too smitten to dissuade her from her adventure in detection. Challenging her in the race to resolution is the disciplined Detective Brisbois, whose deep-rooted insecurities about his style and status are aroused by the hotel guests' careless assumption of privilege. When Brisbois stumbles into peril of his own, the intrepid Miss Miller is the only one left who can solve the crime.

Judith Alguire is a Kingston, Ontario writer, whose previous novels include All Out and Iced, both of which explored the complex relationships of sportswomen on and off the playing field. Her short stories, articles and essays have appeared in such publications as The Malahat Review and Harrowsmith, and she is a past member of the editorial board of the Kingston Whig-Standard. A graduate of Queen's University, she currently works as a visiting nurse in the Kingston area.

Pleasantly Dead is her first mystery and the first of a projected series, the Rudley mysteries, named for the cantankerous proprietor of The Pleasant Inn.

"Mr. Rudley?"

"What is it, Tiffany?"

"There seems to be wine spilled on the floor in the wine cellar."

"Well, clean it up!" Rudley bit his lip so hard his eyes crossed. He regretted quitting smoking. Smoking made dealing with this group of ninnies much easier. Worse, he knew he was probably responsible for the unlocked door and the spilled wine. He had pulled a bottle halfway out, got distracted, and ran out, forgetting to latch the door.

"Sir."

"Yes." Rudley hunched forward over the counter, arms rigid, jaw thrust forward.

"You told me never to go into the wine cellar."

"Iâï¿½ï¿½m saying you can," he said through clenched teeth.

After Tiffany hurried away, he reached under the counter and took out a battered package of Benson & Hedges. He turned his back to the sign that said No Smoking, Maximum Penalty $2,000, and lit up. He was standing there, trailing smoke through his nostrils when Tiffany reappeared. She stared at him, her chin quivering.

"Now," he said, "I suppose youâï¿½ï¿½re going to tell me thereâï¿½ï¿½s a dead body down there."