: Terri Martin
: Moose Willow Mystery A Yooper Romance
: Modern History Press
: 9781615996919
: 1
: CHF 6.80
:
: Krimis, Thriller, Spionage
: English
: 282
: DRM
: PC/MAC/eReader/Tablet
: ePUB

A suspicious death in a game processing meat locker is just the beginning of bizarre events happening in the Upper Michigan village of Moose Willow. It all starts when a mysterious woman appears at the Methodist church during choir practice. Janese Trout and her best friend, State Trooper Bertie Vaara, team up to connect the woman to a growing number of disturbing occurrences around town including the disappearance of Janese's eccentric lover, George LeFleur, and an undeniable increase in Bigfoot sightings. Meanwhile, Janese faces a multitude of personal challenges as she grapples with a sagging career at the Copper County Community College, an elusive pregnancy test, and a controlling mother who inserts herself into every hiding place of Janese's life.
'Moose Willow Mystery, by Terri Martin, lets cozy mystery fans know they are about to experience something wildly different with edgy characters, a big dose of humor, and an insider's look at America's best-kept secret the mysterious Upper Peninsula of Michigan.'
-- Carolyn Howard-Johnson, award-winning writer of fiction, poetry, and the HowToDoItFrugally Series of books for writers
'Terri Martin manages to present the ordinary, the bizarre (of which there is a steady stream), and even the violent in a way that will open a hilarious glimpse into the world of a small town. With brilliant characterization, she takes the reader on a wild ride of murder and mayhem, so let me warn you. Don't start reading until you have the time to keep going.'
-- Bob Rich, PhD, author ofSleeper, Awake!
'Take a mini-vacation and read this delightful mystery! Laugh away the problems of the world (and cry a few times) along with the remarkable, talented characters inMoose Willow Mystery. A refreshing whodunit with plenty of mystery to keep the reader unable to put the book down.'
-- Carolyn Wilhelm, M.A., Midwest Book Review

- 1 -

She just showed up one night, and said, “Hi. I’m Derry. I’d like to sing in the choir.”

It sounded a bit like an AA introduction. Nonetheless, we all smiled idiotically and mobbed her in order to extract as much information as possible, mainly if she sang soprano (God, please) or alto.

“Welcome,” said our choir director, Hannu, who extended a limp hand toward her. She touched his fingertips delicately, as a Victorian lady might do.

Where had this woman come from? She had not been within the humble walls of the Moose Willow Methodist Church that past Sunday. Usually, people shopping around for a church sneak in after the service has started and sit discreetly in the back pew. However, anyone—especially anyone female—who wanders in does not get past the Moose Willow Methodist Women or MW-MW.

The Methodist Women are a tenacious group of church ladies who strive to fulfill their God-mandate of recruitment for “auxiliary activities.” Any woman, lady, or slut, who dares enter the handicap-accessible doors of the Moose Willow Methodist Church will undergo an inquisition. Before her hand has cooled from multiple welcoming grips, she will be asked to join the MW-MW.

This new woman appeared to be in her thirties. Blonde hair cascaded around her head like a flaxen halo. I judged her jeans to be about a size six. She wore a stretchy top that displayed a tease of cleavage. She studied her surroundings with hooded light-blue eyes—bedroom eyes. In spite of blushed cheeks and bright lipstick, the woman exuded a pale, haunted presence.

“So, Dairy is it?” I asked. “Spelled like Humbolt’s Dairy?” Maybe she was from Wisconsin where they take their dairy products very seriously. I was used to odd names. I lived in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan, or U.P. where peopleproudly called themselves “Yoopers.”

Our small village got its name from an Ojibwe moniker,Mooz Oziisigobiminzh, which basically translates as Moose Willow. Perhaps at one time the area abounded with moose munching on their favorite willowy browse. However, today, sightings of Bigfoot were more frequent than those of a moose.

“Well, actually, it’s spelled D-E-R-R-Y,” she said. “Parks. The last name’s Parks.”

“Very glad to meet you,” I said. “I’m Janese – rhymes with geese. JanESE,” I repeated. “Last name’s Trout, like the fish.”

Needless to say I had gone through my whole life with my first name being mispronounced and my last name being ridiculed.

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