• Fran Stewart

Tin Whistle

In the next few days, I’m going to be sending the "Tin Whistle" story to those of you who’ve signed up for my newsletter. I promised you a story every month or two up until the WHITE AS ICE quadrilogy (yes - that’s a word. I made it up, but it’s definitely a word) is published.

Here’s the opening to the story, just to wet your whistle. (I admit it. I love puns.) The story comes near the beginning of RED AS A ROOSTER, the first of the four books, and the women have just walked up into the cavernous attic. Biscuit McKee—she's the main character in these mysteries—looks around the space, wondering if, even with the help of her women friends, she’ll ever manage to organize all that stuff.


A couple of card tables, their spindly legs folded in as if they’d been relegated to “time out,” leaned against the wall off to the right of the stairs, and I saw another three farther down the way. Why would anyone need five card tables? Maybe a bridge club? “Feel free to poke around,” I said as the women spread out, weaving among the old trunks and dressers and stacks of miscellaneous items.

Glaze crossed her arms. “There doesn’t seem to be much organization here.”

“Humph!” Ida drew her fingers across the top of an old trunk, leaving a trail in the dust. “There isn’t any organization here.”

The sight of all that … that stuff was a bit daunting, I had to admit. Not only were there numerous trunks and boxes, but a lot of items weren’t packed up in any way. The tops of several rickety-looking dressers were piled high with unidentifiable jumbles. I walked over to one of them and brushed aside a hodgepodge of costume jewelry. An old penny whistle caught my eye, so I picked it up and blew into it. Of course, it let out a piercing shriek, which brought all conversation behind me to a stop.

“Sorry,” I said. “Couldn’t resist it.”

Maddy stepped closer to me. “Could I see it?”


She lifted it to her lips and played a merry little tune.

Naturally, we all applauded.


At this point, the story goes into November of 1866, where we meet Josh Hawley.


Josh Hawley's mare was not quite lame, but she had slowed down so much, Josh thought perhaps the nag was on her last legs. He wished he could have stolen a better animal …


If you’d like to find out what happens, be sure to go to my home page, scroll down a bit, and sign up for the newsletter.

#WHITEASICE #REDASAROOSTER #tinwhistle #pennywhistle