This week we are featuring mystery and suspense author Lynn Marron and her book ORR: Fatal DNA (A Grace Farrington Mystery Book 2)
But before we venture into her book, let us hear from Lynn, what drink does she recommend for Friday night to go with our reading.
Drink? Usually cherry brandy when I’ve got cramps or can’t sleep. Otherwise, when I’m out, I love something sweet. And being a chocolate person and more of a sweet craver than anything I love a Brandy Alexander. Yeah, these days it’s hard to find a bartender that can mix them, but they are an absolute dream, a chocolate soda that gives you angel wings! (It goes down real easy, so be careful you won’t realize how powerful it is) The recipe on line says a Brandy Alexander, (served straight up without ice!), grated nutmeg, 3 cl (1 part) Cognac and 3 cl (1 part) brown Creme de cacao, 3 cl (1 part) Fresh cream. (If you are making it at home around Yule, try substituting eggnog for the cream). Shake and strain into a chilled cocktail glass.(The recipe I found didn’t say it, but I think there should be crushed ice in the mixing cup, that’s what you strain out). Sprinkle with fresh ground nutmeg. And the place to drink it is Cobbs Mill Restaurant, it was originally a prerevolutionary grain mill in Weston, Connecticut. It is my favorite restaurant in all the world and shows up in my novels occasionally. Upstairs you sit and look out over the mill pond, but go down to the downstairs dining, to the small bar tables right alongside the waterfall. Sit at the little table, if you aren’t love, you will be soon. (Cobbs Mill closed, reopened–I was there with my husband and sons for my birthday this year–then closed again. Watch the website, they say its getting ready to reopen! Go, and you may see me there, holding a cream colored cocktail glass up high in celebration of all that is warming and sweet in life!
In ORR: FATAL DNA I combine my love of seance and history with a hidden treasure that has been lost since the Revolutionary War, and a present day murder of a billionaire patron at Oyster River Research. Although Grace Farrington only wants to continue her pioneering research, one of her on again off again lovers is accused of murder, but in this book she had three intriguing men pursuing her. However, she also is the being persued by a cold blooded murderer. Finally the puzzles–two sets–are ultimately solved with some clever DNA sleuthing, psychic adventures, her cast of New England eccentrics.
Oyster River Harbor, King’s Colony of Connecticut
July 15, 1778
Captain Elijah Dell squinted at the thunder clouds closing in over the slate-gray sound. Hours till sunset but rolling fog already obscured distant Long Island, an evil omen for this day’s work. White caps foaming the crests of growing waves that now pounded the beach sand. Standing closer to the sea, his daughter-in-law Rebecca stared out, paying no heed as the advancing yellow foam lapped over her boot tips. With such a Devil’s storm brewing, would Christopher dare it in only a two man sloop? Instead, should they take Elijah’s fishing boat tied back in the harbor? It would handle the waves but stand out in Wallabout bay causing the British to question. Nay. Elijah shifted his left arm again, must’ve hurt it when the sail shifted, now it was numb and that added misery to the cold that sat on his chest, making breathing painful. Getting old, when all a man wanted was to be home soaking up warmth before his hearth fire. But there was Eli– his youngest boy and Mae’s last living child. Now Eli suffered with the rest in that hell hole of prison ship under the decks, in stinking July heat: Eli, Samuel, Willy, and Jacob. If Christopher would sail to Wallabout this day, and he would for enough coin, then Elijah must crew no matter how badly he felt. Did they have enough to ransom Eli and the others? Elijah turned his eyes from the surf. Now in these times, he had to watch for dangers from the land too as his own former friends and neighbors might turn him over to the British as a traitor. Movement. He squinted, now he could see two figures coming out of the trees, down to the beach, two women in blowing capes. One unnaturally tall, Long Liz, his sister, her blonde hair streamingwith gray, and beside her trudging in the sand, that brown faced servant, Posey. Liz was his sister, but her husband Seth was a wealthy Loyalist, siding with King George, who would have them all hanged. Elijah sneaked a look to the whitening sea and curse softly. Over the dark, rolling water he could see the top of a sloop’s gray canvas sail. Better get Loyalist Liz out of here, before Christopher makes land. Elijah turned suddenly and felt dizzy, he had to stop and catch a painful breath, before he trod forward in the deep sand. Rebecca was hanging back as cold Liz’s imperial manner always cowed her. His sister waited above the black-green sodden mounds of seaweed at the high water line not wanting her fine linen cloak to get stained. As he approached, she looked directly in his eyes. Most women he always had to look down to, but Liz was his equal in ungainly height.
She spoke first. “Storm coming in.”
“Hear the red coats will be getting here first,” he said a bit coldly.
“Our King’s soldiers protect us.” Her voice lost some of its hauteur and held sisterly concern when she said, “You look terrible, Elijah, your face is gray.”
“Tis the poor light.”
“You’re an old man, who should be home before your firestead.”
“Even the flames are cold without my Mae.”
Liz looked away in shame. “I was not there when you laid your wife to rest.”
“Half the town of Oyster River was not there,” he said bitterly. “None of your good King’s friends showed up to respect a woman they’d known their whole lives.”
“They know your son for a rebel.” There was a silence, then Liz said painfully. “I should have been there…but Seth forbid it.”
Elijah nodded. “The Lord God has ordained that a wife must obey her husband. Mae would have understood that.”
Looking pained she said, “What would the Lord think of our town splitting so?”
“I seek no war with King or Rebel. I only wish to fish and be left alone.”
“But your son…”
“Eli listened to his fine friends. They joined a militia to battle the injustices of freeborn Englishmen not allowed to speak on their destiny, but a Connecticut Colony man should not have been fighting in New Jersey! Now Eli pays for his folly, rotting in a prison ship.”
“Then you know where he is?”
“Perhaps imprisoned in Wallabout bay with Jacob Hoyt , Samuel Chapel, and Willy Jamison. That’s where we think they took them after the battle.”
“Seth says the military will subdue Connecticut, as they have Boston and New York. When that happens, the rebels–or anyone who treated with them–will be expelled. Where will you go? The Indies? Not west into the dark forests with the painted savages…” She actually sounded pained…..
About the Author:
Lynn lives in Connecticut and has written radio and television scripts and texts for comic books. She lives in the woods… often avoids writing by talking to friends. She talks to chipmunks, the squirrels, robins (spring), raccoons (night), frogs (summer), fish (fast), deer (seldom), tulip trees and occasionally large, intelligent rocks.
She can be contacted at email@example.com