M.S. Spencer

Another winner mystery from M.S. Spencer!

Thanks so much Alana, for allowing me to tell your readers about my new mystery, Railroad Ties: the Marmion Grove Murders. I hope they enjoy the excerpt and long to read more!

Blurb

When Sophie Childress discovers a letter written in 1920 by the witness to a murder, she enlists Noah Pennyman—owner of the house where it took place—to investigate. Who was the victim? What did the killer do with the body—not to mention a carpetbag full of money? Together they expose a complex web of family ties and lies that has persisted through four generations in the historic village of Marmion Grove. When two more corpses are unearthed, Noah and Sophie are faced with too many victims and not enough murderers.

Railroad Ties: the Marmion Grove Murders

Mystery, cozy

The Wild Rose Press, June 11, 2025

390 pp; 89,900 words
Ebook: $5.99; Print $22.99
Theme(s): Small Town, Mystery, Humorous/Comedy, Cozy Mystery
Railroad Ties: the Marmion Grove Murders opens with the discovery of a letter from a witness to a murder. The letter fell out of a copy of Agatha Christie’s first published book, The Mysterious Affair at Styles. The heroine, Sophie Childress, volunteers for the Vassar Book Sale. Now closed down, for forty years it was one of the largest and most successful used book sales in the country, raking in an average of $100,000 for scholarships. Sophie is learning to price rare books, so she recognizes the  Christie volume as a first edition, and discovers that the first printing of the first edition was actually in New York, and not London. The famous London edition of her book was released a full year after the New York one.

The letter was written in 1920, the same year as the New York release, sending Sophie and her hero, Noah, on a search for possible connections between the two events.

Excerpt: The Letter

“What’s this?” She lifted out a heavy polyethylene bag. She knew from Eudora’s instruction that the bag was archival quality. Now why was this one protected when the others weren’t? She slid the book out. “Agatha Christie. The Mysterious Affair at Styles.” Christies were a dime a dozen. Most of her works had millions of copies in print. It was unlikely this was valuable, even though it was a hardback. Maybe it was a gift. There could be an inscription or note inside. She checked the flyleaf. Nothing. She turned to the copyright page. “First edition, first printing.” Okay. New York: John Lane Publishing Company, 1920. Wait a minute. She set it down, puzzled. New York? Christie’s books were published in England. It must be the first American edition. Still, sometimes those fetched surprisingly good prices. Another thing to research at the center. As she reinserted it in its plastic bag, an envelope fell out. Yellowed and stained, it was addressed to Constable Bustwick, Montgomery County Police. No return address or stamp. She opened it.

Inside was a scrap of butcher’s brown wrapping paper. It’s a letter. The handwriting was shaky. An older person? A child? Though the date was obscured by a streak of dried ink, she could make out “April” and “1920.” The same year the book was published. She sat down to read.

Dear Constable Bustwick,

I write to you in great distress. I believe I may have witnessed a horrible act. However, I do not know if it was truly a crime, so I am begging you to investigate quietly. If I speak out publicly, I risk my position.

The event occurred two nights ago. The master and mistress had retired. I had closed up the house and returned to my room when a thunderstorm barreled through. For a time the thunder was quite loud. Lightning struck one of our cherry trees with a great CRACK. I had finally dozed off when a noise outside woke me. It was perhaps an hour past midnight. We have had problems with raccoons in the garbage pit lately, so I took my broom and went out to frighten the creatures off. It was very dark after the storm, with only the feeble light from the hitching post lantern to see by. A figure came around the side of the carriage house. He had a large bundle slung over his shoulder. Mr. Constable, I think it was a body! As I watched, he toppled it into the back seat of an automobile parked on the gravel. When he tried to close the door, a man’s hat fell out. He picked the hat up, threw it inside, and drove away.

I was terrified, but the master had left strict orders not to disturb them, so I went back to my quarters. The next morning the master and mistress had breakfast as usual. Neither mentioned a late night visitor. The stable held only their Ford Model T and the carriage. The car in the driveway had been much larger and fancier. I remember the lamplight glinting on a chrome hood ornament that resembled a flying bird.

When the day had almost passed and the master had not altered his normal routine, I began to feel that I’d dreamed the whole thing. Then late that afternoon I was sweeping the carriage house floor and found the glass bottle we keep the rat poison in. It lay in the floor drain, shattered. Constable Bustwick, I do not know if the broken bottle has anything to do with the body, but I fear it does. I beg you to look into it, but please, please don’t contact my master or mention my name. I pray there is a simple explanation for all this.

Sincerely, Agnes Reilly.

The letter fell out of Sophie’s hand. My God. Did this Agnes really witness a murder? And why didn’t she mail the letter? Did she mean to hand carry it, or perhaps she couldn’t find a stamp? And how did it end up in the book? She sat, fanning herself with the envelope. Hefting the volume, she quickly slipped the letter between its pages and dropped it back in the box.

I have to return to Marmion Grove anyway. I’ll ask Noah about the letter. She was ashamed to realize the thought gave her pleasure

Buy links:

Books2Read: https://books2read.com/railroadties/

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Railroad-Ties-Marmion-Grove-Murders-ebook/dp/B0F38Q5HZR

Barnes & Noble: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/railroad-ties-m-s-spencer/1147152800?ean=2940184496733

Apple/IBooks: https://books.apple.com/us/book/railroad-ties-the-marmion-grove-murders/id6744065960

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/230846616-railroad-ties

Bookbub: https://www.bookbub.com/books/railroad-ties-the-marmion-grove-murders-by-m-s-spencer

About the Author

Librarian, anthropologist, research assistant, Congressional aide, speechwriter, nonprofit director—M. S. Spencer has lived or traveled in five of the seven continents and holds degrees in Anthropology, Middle East Studies, and Library Science. In June 2025 she will have published eighteen mystery or romantic suspense novels. She has two children, an exuberant granddaughter, and currently divides her time between the Gulf Coast of Florida and a tiny village in Maine.

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Blog: https://msspencertalespinner.blogspot.com

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Pinterest: http://pinterest.com/msspencerauthor/

Bookbub: https://www.bookbub.com/profile/m-s-spencer

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Amazon Author Page: https://www.amazon.com/stores/author/B002ZOEUC8

In the Crosshairs: The Body on Leffis Key

PLEASE WELCOME MY GUEST M.S SPENCER!!

Someone is killing people with a crossbow, but what connects the murders is a mystery, and only a birder and the aide to a dead Senator can find the answers.

Intro

I grew up in the DC suburbs and came back as a young adult to work in the US Senate at a time of great upheaval (1980s). The Washington of my youth was genteel, southern, sleepy, and dull. Members of Congress spent most of their time in their districts. There were no restaurants to speak of—the only parties were at diplomats’ residences. There was a single theatre—the National. JFK allegedly quipped that Washington was a city of northern charm and southern efficiency.

By the 1980s it had changed dramatically (I won’t even talk about the depths it’s risen to today). Perhaps because of the advent of television, politics rather than diplomacy now rule the social life “inside-the-Beltway.” There are hundreds of expense-account restaurants and massive theatres. The celebrities aren’t ambassadors and foreign princes, but pundits, “influencers,” and Hollywoodites.

In the excerpt below the widow of a prominent US Senator confesses to an adulterous affair with a high-powered global investor. This is not uncommon, but in this case there’s murder involved.

OUR STORY:

Palmer Lind, recovering from the sudden death of her husband, embarks on a bird-watching trek to the Gulf Coast of Florida. One hot day on Leffis Key she comes upon—not the life bird she was hoping for—but a floating corpse. The handsome beach bum who appears on the scene at the same time seems to have even more secrets than the dead man.

His story begins to unravel as the pair search for answers to a growing pile of dead bodies. Spies, radical environmentalists, and wealthy businessmen circle around each other in a complex dance. Which one is lying? What do a seemingly random group of individuals have in common, other than being targeted by a crossbow?

In the Crosshairs: The Body on Leffis Key

The Wild Rose Press, May 27, 2024

Mystery, Suspense

89,710 words; 392 pp.

Excerpt: Joanna Confesses

Joanna whirled around and advanced toward Palmer, her cheeks flaming and her teeth bared.

Palmer fell back a step. “I beg your pardon?”

“You heard me, you…you floozy. Keep your smutty hands off Wilfred!”

Palmer was too astonished to respond, but the thought gamboled through her head that jealous rage was hardly a suitable look for a bereaved widow. She was weighing options for escape when Joanna toppled into a chair.

“Oh Miss Lind, I’m so sorry. You must think I’m a crazy person. My emotions are all over the place.” To prove it, she burst into tears.

Palmer gave her a box of tissues and went for a glass of water. When she returned, Joanna had regained her composure. “Thank you.” She sniffed. “I suppose I should explain my behavior.”

That would be nice. “If you like.”

“You see, Atticus and I had what you’d call a political marriage. We did love each other in the beginning, but after a few years, the unabating hostility from my relatives…” She broke off and sipped the water. “My family has lived in Mobile, Alabama, for over two hundred years. We’ve always been Democrats…well, for as long as there’s been a Democrat party, that is. Atticus was not only from the Midwest”—she said it with a moue of distaste—“but he was a Republican. Two colossal strikes against him in the view of my grandmother Rose, the matriarch of the clan. She turned everyone against him, shunned him. At least, until he was elected senator.” She gave a resentful snort. “Even then they barely acknowledged him at family gatherings. I got tired of defending him all the time, and we drifted apart, but the demands of the job meant we had to pretend we were the idyllic power couple.”

That’s how Carson described them. Palmer had trouble feeling sorry for her but could hardly interrupt the flow. “Go on.”

“Last year we were at Davos—that’s an annual economic forum in Switzerland. Everybody who’s anybody in the financial and political worlds goes. Atticus was giving an interview to Forbes, and I took to the slopes for an afternoon’s skiing.”

The lives of the rich and famous…

“I was on my last run and visibility was poor. I took a spill, and suddenly Wilfred appeared out of the gloom. He helped me up and escorted me back to the lodge. We had tea together and…and one thing led to another.” She raised damp eyes to Palmer. “Do you hate me?”

“Me? Why would I hate you? It’s nothing to do with me.”

“Even though I’m a rival for his affections?”

“What on earth are you talking about?”

“He came here to see you, didn’t he? Why would he do that unless he was attracted to you?” She produced a tiny hiccup. “He’s left me, you see.”

Buy Links:

In the Crosshairs: the Body on Leffis Key

Books2Read: https://books2read.com/IntheCrosshairs

Wild Rose Press: https://wildrosepress.com/product/in-the-crosshairs-the-body-on-leffis-key/

I Tunes: https://books.apple.com/us/book/in-the-crosshairs-the-body-on-leffis-key/id6479648097

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Crosshairs-Body-Leffis-Key-ebook/dp/B0CYHKJJ5C

Barnes & Noble: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/in-the-crosshairs-m-s-spencer/1145026462?ean=2940185979617

About the Author:

Librarian, anthropologist, research assistant, Congressional aide, speechwriter, nonprofit director—M. S. Spencer has lived or traveled in five of the seven continents and holds degrees in Anthropology, Middle East Studies, and Library Science. She has published seventeen mystery or romantic suspense novels. She has two children, an exuberant granddaughter, and currently divides her time between the Gulf Coast of Florida and a tiny village in Maine.

Contacts:

Blog: https://msspencertalespinner.blogspot.com

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/msspencermysteries

Twitter: http://www.twitter.com/msspencerauthor

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Pinterest: http://pinterest.com/msspencerauthor/

Bookbub: https://www.bookbub.com/profile/m-s-spencer

Shepherd: https://shepherd.com/search/author/21204

Amazon Author Page: https://www.amazon.com/stores/author/B002ZOEUC8

Remember Chincoteague?

PLEASE WELCOME M.S. SPENCER!

Thank you so much, Alana, for giving me space to talk about my new mystery The Wishing Tree: Love, Lies, and Spies on Chincoteague Island.

My family has been going to Chincoteague for decades, and my mother is buried there. We loved birding and beaching.  Addison (my heroine) says about Chincoteague, “there is something about it—hardscrabble, rough, enduring, clinging to its roots with all its might in the face of an implacable Mother Nature.”

While most people draw a blank when I mention Chincoteague, they perk up when I mention the ponies. Assateague salt hay ponies—probably descended from shipwrecked horse—were made famous by Marguerite Henry’s books, especially Misty of Chincoteague. There’s a statue on Main Street of Misty. The ponies are still there. There are several herds, maintained by the Chincoteague Fire Department, which holds the famous annual Pony Swim. Every July they round up the horses and swim them across the channel from Assateague to Chincoteague, where they are auctioned off. Many people choose to sponsor a pony—leaving him on the island but monitoring his welfare.

OUR STORY:

Will the wind whip her token from the Wishing Tree and make her wish come true?

Addison Steele dreams of the day her husband—lost at sea—returns to her. Instead, she meets Nick Savage, whose every word may be a lie. She is soon embroiled in mystery, all related to the top secret science station at Wallops Island, Virginia.

After a Belarusian scientist at Wallops is murdered, the questions multiply. Was it because he caught the person stealing classified documents or because he wanted to defect? Is Nick the spy—or is it his brother? How can she trust the man who is slowly claiming her heart when his story keeps shifting?

Excerpt: Cheyenne, the Pony & the Lounge

He gestured at the passenger’s side door. “May I offer you a drink? I thought I’d head to that place on Main Street for something to raise my temperature.”

“You mean Dobie’s?”

“That’s the one. The upstairs bar is called something else though.”

“Cheyenne’s Lounge. Cheyenne is Dobie’s mare.”

“Mare? Isn’t that a little chauvinist?”

“What? No, he sponsors her. He…” She petered out.

He grinned. “I knew what you meant. Cheyenne is one of the salt hay ponies that locals can sponsor, right?”

She nodded, relieved. “Yes.”

“So, how about that drink?” When Addison looked pointedly at her car, he held up a palm. “Oh, I see. Well, you can leave it here, and I’ll bring you back.”

Did he just wink? Despite her attraction, her mother’s voice rang in her ear. Never get in a car with a stranger. She cleared her throat. “No…urk…no, thanks. The refuge closes at dusk. The entrance is barred.”

“I see. I could drop you off at your house then.”

Oh, and never let him know where you live. “Then I’d have to find a ride back to the refuge in the morning. So…sorry.”

His friendly optimism dissipated. “Oh. Well. Then I guess I’ll see you around the ’hood.”

“No! I meant…I’ll meet you there.” She smirked. “A hot toddy would be nice.”

His eyes narrowed. “What’s so funny?”

“Oh, it’s a standing joke around here. The bartender at Dobie’s is nicknamed Toddy.”

“I see. Does he entertain?”

“Huh?”

“You know…” He wiggled his hips. “Do a pole dance or strip?”

“God, no.” She envisioned the squat old man with the pug nose. “God. No.”

“Well, let’s hope he knows how to make a good hot toddy, then.”

He fired up the tank and rumbled over the sand to the refuge road. Addison’s Subaru felt like a wind-up toy trundling along behind him. They’d almost reached the ticket booth at the entrance to the refuge when she remembered that she hadn’t made her usual prayer to the storm gods to take her token and bring her husband back.

The Wishing Tree: Love, Lies, and Spies on Chincoteague Island

The Wild Rose Press, July 17, 2023

First Edition, 2023

368 p.; PG-13

Murder mystery (Cozy), Romantic Suspense

Buy Links:

Books2Read

Amazon

Barnes and Noble

Bookbub

Goodreads

About the Author

Librarian, anthropologist, research assistant, Congressional aide, speechwriter, nonprofit director—award-winning, multi-published author M. S. Spencer has lived or traveled in five of the seven continents and holds degrees in Anthropology, Middle East Studies, and Library Science. She has published sixteen romantic suspense and mystery novels. She has two children, an exuberant granddaughter, and currently divides her time between the Gulf Coast of Florida and a tiny village in Maine.

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