Reading in the Tub - Magpie Tales

I haven't done a Magpie Tale in a while but when I saw Willow's prompt picture, I felt compelled to bring forth a relevant excerpt from my second novel.

Art's Blood has always seemed like the red-headed stepchild of my books. For the most part, folks just haven't embraced it as heartily as the others. Too much modern art? The little lesbian interlude? Or is it the rather blah cover with a cabin that does not look like an Appalachian building? I don't know. I'm still proud of the book.

Here's a brief excerpt from the bathtub scene  --

...She stretched out a foot and turned the tarnished brass tap, letting a little more hot water into the tub. A long soak before bed was one of her greatest pleasures. Usually she brought a book with her and read till the water became too cool or till she dozed off.  Occasionally her book would dip into the water as her eyes drifted shut and she had made it a rule never to read borrowed books in the bath. Once wet, a book was never quite the same. It would eventually dry out  -- but only as a puffed up, outsize version of its former self.

[Next come several paragraphs where Elizabeth considers the various suspects in the murder at hand and makes a list (yes, she has a notepad and pen nearby) of motives and opportunities. Finding herself at an impasse, as well as sleepy, she abandons her meditations.]


The intoxicating fumes of the lavender bath oil filled her nostrils. Elizabeth tossed the pen and pad onto the pile of folded towels resting on the small chair beside the tub, extricated a gardening magazine from under the towels, and began to read.

~~~

She awoke with a start. The water was cool and English Gardens was lying open on her belly.  Or rather, floating.

With a sigh of disgust, Elizabeth lifted the sodden magazine and let it drip, then laid it gently on the towels.  She yanked the drain plug loose and the water began to run out with a mocking gurgle.

When she was in the oversize T-shirt that was her nightgown, she turned her attention to the magazine, hoping that it could be salvaged. Carefully she spread it open to a double-page photograph of a luxuriant garden.  Roses cascaded from trellises, arbors, and trees -- in all shades of pink, coral, and red. The title shouted in bold turquoise print: "Don't Forget the Rose!"

She blinked, trying to focus her eyes and her mind. For a few seconds she stood there, staring at the soggy pages. 


Then she wrote on her notepad: There's always a previous murder.

Yes, there's a character named Rose. Like Elizabeth, I do some of my best thinking in the bath.  Including solving the murders that I dream up.

None of the photos are mine. For more Magpie Tales, go HERE.