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August 2015

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Book 18 in the Foxglove Corner Mysteries



The road was a narrow ribbon of white threading through dark pine forest that sloped several feet down below ground level. Little traveled, lovely, and treacherous. It looked like a glittering Christmas card, but the snow hid a layer of ice capable of sending the Taurus careening into the trees. One unguarded moment, one skid, would be sufficient to seal our doom.

We were far from home, about two hundred miles, and it was still snowing.

At my side, Leonora aimed her flashlight on the map and issued periodic warnings about black ice and sheer drops, while in the back seat, our rescue collie, Sparkle, slept, blissfully unaware of possible danger.

She was a remarkably good and trusting dog, coming with us quietly and settling on a fluffy blanket without a single backward glance.

I could see her still form reflected in the rear view mirror. Her nose leaned on the armrest, and her eyes were closed. Dreaming of a new home, I hoped.

Sparkle was gorgeous, a tri-headed white who had landed in an Ellentown shelter. No one had claimed her, no one inquired about her, and apparently no one looked beyond her muddy, matted exterior to see the luminous beauty within. No one except for the imaginative young volunteer who had named her Sparkle.

I skidded into the oncoming lane, which was fortunately empty, took a deep breath, and steered into the skid until I regained control of the wheel. That was close.

“Be careful,” Leonora said. “We don’t want to have an accident in this wilderness. I haven’t seen another car in an hour, and my cell phone is dead.”

“Don’t worry. I’m very aware. And alert.”

That was true, for all the good it would do if the Taurus failed to hold the road. “I have to say, though, this sure isn’t the easiest assignment we ever had,” I added.

It had seemed ideal and even fun this morning when we’d set out on the long drive north under a cold, clear December sky.

As members of the Lakeville Collie Rescue League, Leonora and I had inherited the responsibility of transporting collies from shelters all over Michigan to our president, Sue Appleton, in Foxglove Corners, who placed them in foster homes. Having administered to one too many abandoned dogs in heart-rending conditions, I’d tried to leave the League last summer, and Leonora followed my lead. Sue had lured us back with a promise of easy projects.

Because of capricious Mother Nature, this jaunt up north had proved to be anything but easy. As we’d left the shelter, a freezing rain turned the roads hazardous before changing over to snow. Still, it was worth the effort and stress, and even the danger, to give Sparkle the promise of a new life in a loving forever home. Even though it wasn’t quite the fun-filled winter adventure we had anticipated.

The windshield wipers made a valiant attempt to clear the windows, the snowflakes seemed to grow larger with each passing minute, and on the CD player the Yuletide Singers were dreaming of a white Christmas. I drove on.

After a while, Leonora said, “I’m dying for a cup of coffee, Jennet. The stuff left in the thermos is ice-cold. Let’s stop at the first restaurant we come to.”

I nodded, “Or hot chocolate. If we ever drive out of these woods.”

An image formed in my mind, giant-sized and enticing: a tall chocolate-colored mug of steaming cocoa topped with whipped cream. I held fast to it. Wondrous hot liquid sustenance. Our reward for braving the snows of the north.

~ * ~

We filled the gas tank in Standish and shortly afterward found a small rustic restaurant that resembled a log cabin. After walking Sparkle in an adjacent field, we left her in the car with the window cracked and went inside, choosing a window booth where we could keep an eye on her.

I took off my gloves, patted the snow from my hair, and coaxed it back into its original shape with my hand. How much more appealing the snowfall was from inside this cozy haven. The restaurant boasted a fireplace, although no one had started a fire. Ambience was everything.

We lingered over our hot drinks, getting warm and comfortable, and suddenly the miles ahead seemed more manageable. With luck we should arrive home with plenty of the day still left to enjoy.

Sue would be delighted with Sparkle. None of us had expected a white collie in good health who needed only a bath and brushing to make her presentable.

“I’m going Christmas shopping tonight,” Leonora said. “How would you like to join me?”

I spooned a dollop of whipped cream from the top of my cocoa and tasted it. “Oh, I can’t. I’ve been away from Crane and the collies all day, and I’ll have to cook dinner.”

During the school year, I taught English at Marston High School with Leonora while my husband, Deputy Sheriff Crane Ferguson, patrolled the roads and by-roads of Foxglove Corners. Then there were frequent claims on my time from the Rescue League, not to mention the thousand chores involved in keeping a household running smoothly. Sometimes it seemed as if Crane and I hardly saw each other.

But Christmas recess was only three weeks away. Everything would be different then.

“That’s okay.” A teasing twinkle appeared in Leonora’s eye. “I’ll look for your present.”

“We’ll go another time,” I promised and drained the cup. “Now let’s head on home.”

 ~ * ~

As we drove south, the snow turned to flurries, then to rain. I was able to drive somewhat faster. The precipitation washed the white color from the landscape until we were passing monotonous rolling countryside under dreary skies. Barns and three-board plank fences and farmhouses built far back from the road, leafless trees— the landscape had gone from Christmas-card enchanting to boring.

Sparkle, awake from her nap, quietly drank in the scenery.

“It doesn’t look like we’ll have snow for Christmas,” Leonora murmured.

“There’s still time,” I said. “You know…”


“We’re just minutes away from the River Rose Collie Kennels.”

“Almost home. At last.”

“I’d like to drive by the place,” I said. “It won’t take us too far out of our way.”

“Why?” she asked. “Isn’t it deserted?”

I didn’t have a reason. “Just a whim.”

Who knew what inspired it? I hadn’t thought about River Rose in months.

Once a thriving collie kennel that housed champion blue merle and tricolor collies, the fortunes of River Rose had changed when its owner, Rosalyn Everett, disappeared, leaving her dogs to fend for themselves. In other words, to perish with no one to provide food and water.

Several days later, Rosalyn had returned, claiming she’d only been gone for a few hours, grocery shopping. She appeared to believe this. By this time, her absence had been discovered and her beloved collies rescued.

Shortly afterward, she vanished again.

That was one of the strangest happenings in Foxglove Corners, which was known for bizarre and inexplicable mysteries and an occasional wandering ghost.

“Rosalyn has been gone for a long time,” Leonora said.

“Since last summer.”

“River Rose will be overgrown with weeds. There won’t be anything to see.”

“I’m just curious,” I said. “You’ll still have enough time to go shopping, and I’ll be able to get a dinner together. Besides, it’s stopped raining.”

She sighed. “Let’s do it then.”


I made a right turn, taking us away from our planned route into a lightly populated area. We drove past festive houses with colored lights outlining their gables and illuminating the shrubbery. Before long we reached the country road that led to Rosalyn’s house.

River Rose Collie Kennels.

The sign swayed in a light wind, dripping and dispirited. Nobody had taken it down. No one except Rosalyn Everett had the right to do that.

But no prospective collie owner, ignorant of the River Rose story, would look for a puppy in the desolate structure that appeared out of the gathering fog. The property was steeped in a deep country silence. The dogs were all gone.

Rosalyn’s attractive yellow ranch house was obviously vacant. It had a dull yellow shine in a monochromatic background. Windows revealing abandoned rooms, curtains no doubt gathering dust, an accumulation of dried leaves blown into a corner of the porch. Nothing stirred except the phantoms of another day and memories.

The place looked the same as it had when I’d last seen it. Behind the house, a treed lot sloped upward into dark woods, and the clouds hung low over the treetops.

“How utterly depressing,” Leonora said.

“I didn’t know River Rose in its heyday, but I hate seeing it like this.”

I brought the car to a stop. “If Rosalyn came back, she wouldn’t recognize her home.”

“Well that’s likely going to happen. Now we’ve seen it. Shall we move on?”

I nodded and started the car, taking one last look at the house. I’d been inside it once with Sue Appleton. Rosalyn had asked me to help her solve the mystery of her own disappearance. Although faced with irrefutable evidence, she clung to her story and swore she had no knowledge of her whereabouts during those lost days.

I’d failed her.

Beside the house a shape appeared. It was a collie whose silvery gray coat was dappled with dark patches. Standing still, it pierced me with a gaze so intense I could almost feel it from inside the car.

Then it was gone.

My voice came out as a whisper. “Leonora, did you see that?”

Leonora frowned. “See what?”

“A collie.”


“Alongside the house,” I said. “Next to the spruce tree. It isn’t there now.”

“All I see is the spruce.”

I moved the gear to Park and opened the door.

“Wait!” Leonora cried. “Where are you going?”

Knowing me, Leonora should also have realized that was a futile question.

“To find the dog,” I said.


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New Cover - 2020



July 2015 - Suzanne Hurley

Dorothy Bodoin’s newest novel, The Silver Sleigh, is the nineteenth book in Bodoin’s Foxglove Corners Mystery Series. I highly recommend this series as definitely one not to be missed. Each book is carefully crafted with intricate skill, as they follow the life of Jennet Greenway who moves from Oakpoint to Foxglove Corners in Michigan after her home was destroyed by a tornado. Readers will be continually captivated by these books and their mixture of Victorian houses and glorious scenery and a cast of characters that only Bodoin could create – real ones - people you could meet every day with their various idiosyncrasies. She eventually meets Crane Ferguson, the love of her life, and after marrying him, changes her name to Jennet Ferguson, as more challenges and mysteries befall her.

In The Silver Sleigh, once again, readers will find themselves back in Jennet’s mysterious world – in her neighborhood, the school where she teaches, the home that she shares with her husband Crane and all of her collies, and in the areas where her many quirky characters live – Brent, Annica and Leonora, to name a few.

The book begins with Jennet and her friend Leonora driving a beautiful collie named Sparkle to Sue Appleton’s place. Sue is the president of the Lakeville Collie Rescue League and she places dogs in foster homes. The two women decide to take a brief detour by the River Rose Collie Kennel, the former home of Rosalyn Everett who had disappeared right out of the blue. Jennet has always been curious about this disappearance. While checking out the empty kennel, Jennet sees another collie at the side of the house. Immediately she begins searching for the dog, coming up empty handed, only to realize that Sparkle has disappeared. Immediately you are immersed in a mystery concerning the whereabouts of Rosalyn and the two collies.

While out searching for the dogs on another day, Jennet and Leonora visit an antique shop where Jennet purchases an exquisite miniature silver sleigh. Little does she know that by doing so and bringing it into her home, she will be thrust into another mystery of immense proportions, perplexing her, causing much confusion, as she wonders if she will ever get out of this set of dire circumstances with her life intact.

To complicate matters even more, she also has a mystery in her own classroom. A ‘spot’ in the room that seems haunted is the exact same place where a former student was murdered. It affects the moods of not only herself but of anyone who walks on this set of tiles.

With unwavering steely resolve, Jennet is determined to solve all the mysteries she stumbles across. The suspense that hovers throughout all Bodoin’s books never fails to hook you, draw you in and ensure that everything else in your life will be put on hold until you get to the bottom of what is going on in Foxglove Corners. Another thing I’d like to point out, is that this book is a great beach read. It takes place in the winter and Bodoin’s intricate descriptions of snow falling and cold weather will cool you off and help you weather hot summer temperatures. I eagerly await the installment of number twenty – can’t wait.


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