Looking for a Job?

When I was growing up, a man used to deliver bread to our house. "The Manor Bread Man" (as the kids in the block called him) would drive up in his panel truck and drop off a few loaves of Manor bread, per my mother's order. We looked forward to his visit because he always had candy for us kids. I'm not sure when Manor Bread ended home deliveries, but I don't recall them after I graduated elementary school. The company probably found it too expensive to continue when they could stock the stores instead. Now, you want bread delivered? DoorDash, Instacart, etc. will do it for a fee.

The same can be said of some Victorian jobs that have gone the way of the Dodo bird:

• Leech collector: women who waded barefoot into marshes to lure leeches onto their skin for later sale to physicians.
• Knocker-upper: tapped on windows with a long pole to wake factory workers—an early version of the alarm clock.
• Mudlark: scavengers who dug in the banks of the Thames for coal, metal, or anything saleable during low tide (they still exist, not to make money but in search of ancient artifacts)
• Pure finders: collect dog droppings (“pure”) for sale to tanneries for leather processing (still want that leather belt of yours?)

While these occupations haven't appeared yet, I'm sure I'll find the need for at least one in a future book. Any you'd like to try for a day?

Don't Forget to Head to Bellville May 22!

Come join me May 22 from 6 - 7 for Tea, Scones and Sherlock Holmes! I'll be reading from my books and signing some as well! Read more about it here.

New Books Coming Soon!

I received the most amazing news May 1. I had submitted a story for Bouchercon 2025's anthology, and it was accepted. I grinned the whole day.

The story, "Reading Between the Lies" involves a fortune teller in New Orleans whose own reading presents her with a dilemma. The anthology (Blood on the Bayou: Case Closed) will be available for presale soon through Down and Out Books. A special book signing will take place during the convention on September 4 at the National WWII Museum. It's not too late to join me and hundreds of other mystery and crime readers and writers at this event. One of the Guests of Honor is Michael Connelly. (And you can win a signed copy of one of his books in a giveaway below). If you're interested in more information, you can check it out here: https://www.bouchercon2025.com

Write that mystery you've always wanted! My friend Joanne Watson's series, "Elementary, My Dear Writer," is available now in pre-order and will be offered through Kindle Unlimited and Amazon beginning May 20. This series includes a book, a workbook, and a PDF set of worksheets (find the link to the PDF at the back of the book or workbook). The book also provides a set of 50 possible plots to spur your creativity. Happy writing! Find it here.

Book Fairs and Giveaways

WIN THE ULTIMATE CRIME FICTION BOOK GIVEAWAY!

Enter to win the ultimate crime fiction prize pack, featuring 10 thrilling crime fiction books-a $250 value!

The Grand Prize winner also receives a signed copy of The Waiting by Michael Connelly and one copy of each author’s book. The runner-up winner receives one copy of each author’s book. Enter here.

Travel without all the hassle! Middle grade and YA books to fill your summer hours and take you on trips of fancy. Check them out here.

The Beast of Baker Street

Part III

Recap: While investigating the Hound of the Baskervilles, Holmes is attacked by the hound. When the hound is shot, it transforms into a human. Upon their return to London, Holmes becomes more agitated in the days that follow, until one night he fails to come home at all. A story appears in the morning paper of a horrific murder, suggesting it is the work of Jack the Ripper.

My first thought was that Holmes was on the trail of that terrible villain, Jack the Ripper, who had stalked the area only two years previous. When my friend appeared shortly after lunch, he went straight to the meal still waiting for him and feasted like a starving man, grabbing the food with his hands and shoving it into his mouth. He eschewed the vegetables, consuming only the sliced roast beef.

I held up a paper with a particularly vivid depiction of the victim. “Are you involved in this?”

He turned to me and stared, his eyes wide, a bit of beef hanging out of his mouth. “Why? What does it say? Does it mention me?”

“No, but I thought with your disappearance last night that perhaps—”

Before I could complete the thought, he swallowed the last bite of beef, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and grabbed the paper from me. After he examined the article, he stared at me, his fingers gripping the paper’s edges.

“I must go there.”

He dropped the paper, rushed to his room, and returned dressed, if not shaved or groomed.

“I’ll come with you,” I said, grabbing my hat as I followed him out the door.

The scene of the brutal attack was not difficult to find. The paper had identified the alley, and a large crowd pushed and shoved at its mouth to gain a view of the spot.

Holmes pushed his way through the gathering crowd, stopping at the alley’s entrance to scan the scene. His movements became almost predatory as if a primal instinct had taken over him, honing his senses to a razor's edge. After a cursory review, he stepped into the alley itself, and I followed. Behind us, onlookers speculated in animated whispers whether Jake the Ripper had returned. The thought settled like a rock in the pit of my stomach. 

The heavy iron scent of blood hung in the air as Holmes knelt down, his eyes fixed on the ground where the unfortunate victim had met his end. The victim had been removed during the night, but evidence of the terrible attack remained. Blood stained the cobblestones, and I could imagine the position and state of the poor victim as shown in the paper.

After examining the ground, he turned his attention to an area on the wall and studied a claw mark etched deep into the bricks. He reached out and touched a patch of hair hanging from a nail protruding from the wall. My breath caught in my throat as the pieces fell into place, painting a horrifying picture of what had transpired. 

This was no Ripper attack.

He’d been attacked by an animal.

The memory of the hound - or beast - that we had encountered on the moors came flooding back with biting intensity. 

Holmes sprang to his feet, his gaze searching the area and crowd. “We must leave. Now.”

He stormed through the streets, muttering under his breath. I struggled to keep up with his rapid pace, my own thoughts whirling with the events in Dartmoor and worry for my friend.

Once back at 221B, he rushed to his library and pulled a slim volume from the shelf. He held up the book to show me. “Baring-Gould has documented specific cases of lycanthropy in Devonshire.” After flipping through the pages, he stopped and ran his finger over the text as he read it aloud. “In Devonshire, they range the moors in the shape of black dogs...” 

Continuing to peruse the text silently for a few paragraphs, he read the following aloud, “‘The publican shot a silver button over their heads, when they were instantly transformed into two ill-favored old ladies of his acquaintance.’” 

Turning further into the book, he again read, “‘In the Périgord, the were-wolf is called louléerou. Certain men, especially bastards, are obliged at each full moon to transform themselves into these diabolic beasts.’" He paused and added more to himself than to me, "Last night was a full moon.” 

“But you shot the hound.”

“Obviously, there was more than one.”

“And it followed us back to London?”

“Not ‘it.’ ‘Him.’”

“You’re saying a man did this unspeakable mutilation?”

“A man, in the form of a werewolf.” He raised his gaze from the book and met mine. “Consider this some form of a disease. One that is transmitted by biting - but not killing - a person."

“If it is a physical condition, it could be treated.” I paused before adding, “If we can find the victim.”

“Not if, dear friend. Must. We cannot let this horror continue.”

The rock in the pit of my stomach grew heavier as I considered the carnage this creature could wreak upon an unsuspecting populace. “What do you propose?”

He turned again to the bookcase, and without even scanning the spines, he pulled down another volume—this year’s almanac. After checking a page, he said, “If Baring-Gould is correct about the effect of the full moon on werewolves, this is just the first of three days of the creature’s rampage.”

Dropping the book onto his desk, he strode to the mantle and prepared his pipe. He paced in front of the fireplace, trailing smoke behind him like a train engine. I recognized his mood immediately and took a seat in my chair, waiting for him to work out the problem.

He spun on his heel and stared at me. “I’m going to patrol the streets these next two nights to catch this beast.”

To Be Continued......

The links again:

The Story Peddler: here

Bouchercon 2025: https://www.bouchercon2025.com

Elementary, My Dear Writer: here

Ultimate Crime Fiction Book Giveaway: here

Read and Roam: here.

If your email begins debraolson****, please email me at liese@liesesherwoodfabre.com for your $5 Amazon or Apple card!

Happy June!

Liese