A Killer Keepsake

By Ellery Adams and Parker Riggs

In the world of antiques and collectibles, it helps to have a sharp eye for quality, a good ear for gossip, and a nose for murder.

When star reporter Molly Appleby exchanged vows with her new husband, she also made a promise to give up sleuthing. But given her knack for stumbling onto murders, and murderers, she’s realizing she never should have made a promise she couldn’t keep.

Molly’s just finished an article on the Forget Me Not Doll Club for Collector’s Weekly, but before the magazine even hits the newsstands, one of the club members is found murdered, and a stolen antique doll—purportedly haunted—is found in the victim’s house. When police discover that few of the peculiar club members will mourn the deceased, and that most of them had more motives than alibis, they once again enlist Molly’s help to solve this very odd case.

But piecing together a deadly puzzle is never easy, and when another member of the club is attacked, Molly begins to wonder if the eccentric group of doll lovers might have deeper and darker connections than she ever imagined. And as she begins to piece together the unusual background of the eerie doll and uncovers a history of troubled lives, she realizes there are more victims than the obvious ones in this case—and that some people will do anything to protect their darkest secrets.

About the Authors:

New York Times bestselling author Ellery Adams grew up on a beach near the Long Island Sound. Having spent her adult life in a series of landlocked towns, she cherishes her memories of open water, violent storms, and the smell of the sea. Ms. Adams has held many jobs, including that of caterer, retail clerk, car salesperson, teacher, tutor, and tech writer, all the while penning poems, children's books, and novels. She now writes full-time from her home in Virginia.

Parker Riggs is also the author of the mystery novels A Treacherous Trader and A Devious Lot (with Ellery Adams), and Finding Jessica. She lives in New Hampshire with her husband.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Beyond the Page Publishing
• Release date: Apr 5, 2017
• ISBN: 9781946069252

Ellery Adams

Ellery Adams has written over forty mystery novels and can’t imagine spending a day away from the keyboard. Ms. Adams, a native New Yorker, has had a lifelong love affair with stories, food, rescue animals, and large bodies of water. When not working on her next novel, she reads, bakes, gardens, spoils her three cats, and rearranges her bookshelves. She lives with her husband and two children (aka the Trolls) in Chapel Hill, NC. For reading guides and a list of bibliotherapy titles, please visit ElleryAdamsMysteries.com.

Book preview

Chapter 1

Molly Appleby switched on the high beams of her new silver Audi A4 sedan. She loved the all-wheel-drive vehicle but missed her Honda Civic. It was her own fault the car had to be replaced. Three days after Christmas she’d totaled it when she’d skidded on ice and barreled down an embankment. The car was ruined, but she’d walked away from it without a scratch. Unfortunately, this wasn’t a good enough reason to Matt to buy another Civic. He’d insisted they buy the Audi.

Your destination is ahead, the GPS said.

She squinted into the ribbon of light, trying to find the mailbox to the house where Rita Garrett and her daughter-in-law, Eliza, lived. On a moonless night, on a narrow country road without any streetlights, the mailbox wasn’t easy to spot.

You have arrived.

She slowed the car and finally saw the mailbox and the end of the driveway. Turning the wheel, she started down the road, which was surrounded by trees that made it feel like she was driving down a dark tunnel. She’d only been to Rita’s and Eliza’s house once before, but it had been daylight and she could see where she was going. Tonight she felt like she was driving off the edge of the earth. And yet, the road kept going, and finally the house came into view. It looked better in the dark than in daylight. Daylight only highlighted the rotting clapboard siding, missing chimney bricks, and slanted porch. Rita had told her the house was her childhood home, built by her grandfather in 1901, and her father had left it to her when he died. Molly understood the importance of familial connections, but the house really did seem to be too much for her to maintain, and it was slowly rotting away.

Parking beside a red BMW, she took her large tote bag from the back and looped her purse over her shoulder. As she walked up a newly shoveled path to the front door, a chorus of barking broke out behind a second-story window, and three furry faces jockeyed for position. Rita owned Paws Crossed, an animal shelter and rescue, and these were her dogs. As Molly climbed the steps to the porch, the door opened, and Rita yelled Quiet! over her shoulder. Upstairs, the dogs stopped barking.

Hello, Molly, Rita said. She was the president of the Forget Me Not Doll Club, and Molly had interviewed her, Eliza, and the five other members of the club for an article for the next edition of Collector’s Weekly. Molly had advance copies of the magazine in her tote bag to pass out.

I’m sorry I’m late, Molly said. My boss called as I was leaving, and I had to talk to him. Is everyone here?

Everyone but Miranda, Rita said. Let me take your coat.

Molly slipped off her coat and put her boots on the boot tray. She reached into the tote bag and took out a plastic container. I know you told me I didn’t have to bring anything, but I’m from the South, and we Southern girls never go to someone’s house empty-handed. She gave Rita the container. They’re chocolate-chip cookies. I made them myself.

Thank you. Chocolate-chip cookies are my favorites. Rita started down the hallway. I hope you like chili. Sierra’s made a big pot of it. As they walked down the hall, Molly couldn’t help but notice the peeling wallpaper and scuffed wood floors. If you don’t like chili, Rita went on, I made a pork tenderloin, and there’s salad and corn bread.

It all sounds delicious, Molly said.

The Forget Me Not Doll Club met on the first Tuesday of every month, and before the meeting they had a potluck dinner. Molly was attending their February meeting, and when she walked into the dining room she saw they were already busy filling their plates with food and talking about the snowstorm that was due to arrive later in the evening.

Molly’s here, Rita announced.

Choruses of welcome went up, and Luke Kearns was the first to walk over and shake her hand. He was a handsome man, with thick wavy hair and green eyes that reminded Molly of her cats. Unlike Rita, who was drably dressed in gray sweatpants and an oversized sweater, he wore designer jeans, a starched white shirt, and a navy blue blazer.

We’re so glad you could make it, Luke said.

Thanks for inviting me, Molly said. She saw his wife on the other side of the table and smiled at her. Hello, Vanessa. How are you?

Fine, Vanessa said, pursing her lips.

When setting up interviews, Molly had initially planned on talking to everyone separately, but Luke and Vanessa were separated, and his extensive G.I. Joe collection was still at the marital home, and Vanessa refused to let him be in the house without her. After spending most of an afternoon with the unhappy couple and enduring a lot of sour-lemon looks from Vanessa, Molly had gone home with a headache.

Luke asked, Has the article been published?

It will hit the newsstands on Thursday, Molly said. I’ve brought advance copies for everyone.

Fantastic, Luke said. I can’t wait to read it. My five minutes of fame is finally here.

Vanessa said, You mean fifteen.

Luke looked at her. What?

The fame, Luke, she said dryly. It’s not five minutes, it’s fifteen.

Luke’s smile faltered, and Molly hoped they weren’t going to start arguing.

Lamar Aldridge walked over and peeked into her tote bag. At seventy-four, he was the oldest member of the club, a retired accountant and a widower. Molly had thought he would be an easy interview, and it had gone along all right, until she asked to take his photograph. He insisted on choosing the one she would use for the article, and it took over an hour to get the shot he wanted.

I hope you used the photograph I approved, he said.

Molly stifled a sigh. Of course I did, she said.

Rita cleared her throat. Ladies, gentlemen. I know everyone’s anxious to read Molly’s article, but let’s eat dinner first. Molly can pass the magazine out at the start of the meeting.

Good idea, Eliza Garrett said. We’ve got so much food, everyone take seconds, or Rita’s going to send it home in doggie bags.

Lamar said, Better not tell the dogs.

Good one, Lamar, Eliza said. She was the youngest member of the club at twenty-nine, and had taken to the Goth subculture after her husband, Johnnie, had died in an accident. Tonight’s outfit was a short black tulle skirt, black frilly blouse, and black leggings. Her hair was dyed black, and she wore heavy black eyeliner, black nail polish, and black lipstick. When Molly had first met her, she thought the Goth look was an odd choice for a woman who collected reborn dolls. These were dolls so realistic, people often mistook them for real babies. Dressed in blues and pinks, in sweet little dresses and onesies, they were the exact opposite of Eliza’s dark and moody vibe.

Eliza handed her a plate, and at the same time took the tote bag from her hand. I’ll bring this to the living room. We always eat on trays.

Thanks, Molly said.

A swinging door from the kitchen opened, and Sierra Davis walked into the dining room carrying a pan of corn bread. When she saw Molly, she said, I hope you’re hungry.

During Sierra’s interview, Molly learned she was well known in the world of collectible dolls, not only as a dealer in rare antiques but as an expert in haunted dolls. Molly thought this was a perfect detail for her article, since it would catch a reader’s attention. Sierra had told Molly people from all over the world sent haunted dolls to her, either to sell on commission or to get rid of, because they were misbehaving or scaring them. Without any empirical evidence to go by, Molly wasn’t sure she believed in haunted dolls, but she did think it was a clever marketing gimmick.

Sierra set the pan down next to a Crock-Pot. You’ll be happy to know, she told Molly, I found a lovely Chatty Cathy doll for you.

Molly felt her eyebrows shoot up. What?

You told me you had a Chatty Cathy doll when you were a little girl, but you didn’t know what happened to it. Well, I found one for you.

Molly didn’t know what to say. How could she tell her she didn’t want a Chatty Cathy doll when everyone was looking at her and nodding their approval?

Sierra went on. You’re going to love her. She’s a 1960 Mattel, in excellent condition. She’s even wearing her original red velvet and lace dress.

Wonderful, Molly said, pretending to be excited.

Normally, I’d ask two sixty for her, Sierra said. But for you, I’ll part with her for two hundred. Molly couldn’t believe it. She was going to have to pay two hundred dollars for a doll she didn’t want? Come by the shop tomorrow morning. Ten o’clock.

She wanted to tell Sierra to sell the doll to someone else, but suddenly heard her mother’s voice in her head. Being polite sometimes means you have to choose your words carefully.

I’ll be there at ten, Molly said.

Luke took the lid off the Crock-Pot. Molly, you have to try Sierra’s chili, he said. She could smell the aroma of spices wafting out of it and thought it smelled divine. I guarantee, you’re going to love it.

Vanessa snorted. It gives me heartburn.

Luke frowned. Well, no one is forcing you to eat it, he said.

Molly stifled another sigh. Trying to ignore them, she spooned chili onto her plate and sprinkled vinaigrette dressing on her salad. As she cut a slice of corn bread out of the pan, she saw Lamar waving at her from the sideboard where a bar had been set up.

What would you like to drink, Molly? We have red or white wine, root beer, Coke and diet Coke, or Sprite. Or, if you’re a whiskey aficionado, like myself, I’ll share the bottle of Jameson Irish Whiskey Rita so generously bought for me. He winked. She does like to spoil me.

I’ll have a glass of red wine, Molly said.

Lamar poured her a glass. Allow me to escort you to your folding tray, he said.

The living room appeared exactly the same as it had on the day Molly interviewed Rita and Eliza. It was a dreary room, without a single rug, painting, or even any color on the walls. The furniture was upholstered in a scratchy brown tweedy fabric, which reminded Molly of something her grandmother had when she was a little girl. A large brick fireplace took up most of one wall, but it wasn’t lit, which was a shame, because the house was cold. A row of little dolls dressed like princesses was lined up on the mantel, and Molly knew these belonged to Rita’s eclectic collection of dolls.

Lamar set a tray up for her, and she sat on the couch. Luke and Vanessa came over and joined her, sitting on either side of her like bookends, which seemed preferable to them sitting together at the risk of getting into a fight. Rita and Sierra took a matching love seat, and Eliza plopped into an oversized chair that looked like a cat had once used it as a scratching post.

Eliza, Lamar said, unfolding his napkin, is there any word from Miranda?

Not yet, Eliza said. I left her a voice mail around four to let her know her five o’clock at Ringers canceled, but she hasn’t called back. Miranda Perry owned Perry Realty, and Eliza worked for her as a general assistant and bookkeeper. She doesn’t always check her phone.

Lamar glanced at his watch. Well, it’s almost six thirty. Perhaps you should call her.

I will, after I eat, Eliza said.

Sierra said, Please stop talking about her. She’s like the devil. Say her name and she appears.

Lamar frowned. Is it really necessary to talk about her that way?

Yes, Lamar, it is, Sierra said. And if you don’t like the way I’m talking about her, tell her to stop harassing me about Emma, and I’ll try to be nicer.

Lamar shook his head. I’m tired of all the fighting going on lately.

Me, too, Sierra said. If you want peace and tranquility, tell Miranda to shut up and mind her own business. Not that it would do any good, of course. Everyone knows she loves to argue, and she never backs down. Isn’t that right, Eliza?

Yeah, I guess, Eliza said, spearing a tomato with her fork.

Honestly, I don’t know how you’ve worked for her for so long, Sierra said. What’s it been, six years?

Five, Eliza said.

Well, you couldn’t pay me enough money.

She’s not so bad, once you get used to her, Eliza said.

Molly asked, Who’s Emma, and why is she harassing you about her?

Emma’s my mother’s doll, Sierra said. I thought I showed her to you at the shop. She’s the German bisque, in the white and gold dress and bonnet.

Oh, right, I remember Emma, Molly said. The doll had to be around eighty years old, but it was in such good condition it looked almost new. Only it’s clothing dated it.

Miranda’s been on the warpath to buy her, Sierra said. She’s mad at me because I refuse.

Luke turned to Molly. It’s all my fault, he said. When Sierra and I were kids, she made up these scary stories about Emma, and I made the mistake of telling Miranda about them. Now she’s convinced if she owns Emma, the doll will work some kind of magic spell on her soon-to-be ex-husband and she’ll get what she wants in their divorce settlement.

Molly looked at Sierra. She thinks Emma’s one of your haunted dolls?

Yes, and it doesn’t matter how many times I tell her Emma isn’t haunted, she won’t believe me. Sierra sighed. Luke’s right, it is his fault. She never even noticed Emma until he told her about those stories.

Before Molly could ask about them, headlights came down the driveway, and upstairs the dogs started to bark. Rita went to the front door and yelled up the stairs to the dogs to be quiet, and they stopped mid-bark.

Vanessa said to Molly, Miranda doesn’t like dogs. That’s why Rita keeps them upstairs. Do you like dogs?

Yes, I do, Molly said. But I have two cats, and they’re scared of them.

On the other side of her, Luke said, Rita’s always looking for homes for her rescues. Don’t be surprised if she tries to pawn one off on you. We got talked into buying a dog from her two years ago.

We didn’t get talked into buying Buster, Vanessa said, leaning around Molly to talk to him. As usual, you couldn’t say no. Now I’m stuck taking care of him, because you moved out and can’t be bothered.

I told you I’d take him, Luke said. If you want me to, I’ll pick him up tomorrow.

Oh, brother, Molly thought. Here we go again, and I’m stuck in the middle.

The front door opened, and Miranda came in on a swirl of snow flurries and a blast of cold air. Molly hoped the snowstorm would hold off until after she got home. They were predicting five inches, starting around nine, but sometimes the weather forecasters were off.

Tossing off her red wool cape to Rita like she was her servant, Miranda pranced into the living room on six-inch high heels. How she managed to wear them and not sink into the snow or slip on the pavement was anybody’s guess. She was in her mid-sixties but kept herself fit, and with her sharp cheekbones and tight skin hinting at cosmetic surgery, she looked ten years younger. Tonight she was dressed in a trim blue pantsuit, and her highlighted blond hair was loose around her shoulders.

There you are, Miranda said to Eliza. She stood in front of her with her hands on her hips. I should fire you. I waited at Ringers for over an hour before I got your voice mail. Why didn’t you call me sooner?

I left the message around four o’clock, Eliza said. If you’d take the trouble to check your phone once in a while, you would have known sooner.

I don’t believe you.

Look at your phone. I’m not making it up.

Miranda rummaged around in her large Coach bag and plucked out an iPhone. She looked at the screen, and her mouth turned down. There’s something wrong with my phone, she said. The message was late.

Eliza held out her hand. Give it to me. Let me see.

No, Miranda said, throwing her phone back in her bag.

I suppose it’s the phone’s fault, as usual, Eliza grumbled.

Miranda tossed her hair back from her shoulders. Get me something to eat, she said. I’m tired from all that waiting around at Ringers.

Molly was taken aback by her nasty tone, but it didn’t faze Eliza. She set her knife and fork down and went off to the dining room to do Miranda’s bidding. Miranda took her chair, and then had the nerve to call after her, And get me a diet Coke while you’re at it.

Luke set his tray aside. I’ll help her, he said in a dull voice, as if he was bored with Miranda and the drama she felt entitled to. Molly noticed Vanessa’s hawk-like eyes followed him all the way to the dining room.

Miranda turned to Molly. She smiled, and her straight white teeth were so polished they were almost blinding. Has the article come out?

It will be on the newsstands in two days, Molly said. I have advance copies, and I’ll pass them out when the meeting starts.

I’ve told everyone I know to buy it, Miranda said. I’m so excited to be the lead story.

Molly stared at her. I told you when we got together for the interview, I’d be leading with Rita. Miranda had demanded Molly put her first in the lineup, but she’d held firm. I thought I made that perfectly clear.

I thought you were joking, Miranda said. Why would you make Rita the lead story when you have me? She shook her head. Really, Molly, you’ve made a big mistake. Everyone knows I’m the most interesting, and successful, person in this club. Your readers are going to fall asleep when they start reading about boring Rita.

Sierra said, You’re the only one in this room, or anywhere else for that matter, who thinks you’re the most interesting person in the world.

Miranda’s eyes narrowed. Oh, shut up, Sierra.

You shut up, Sierra said.

Rita sighed. Ladies, please. No arguing tonight. We have a guest.

Miranda sneered at Sierra. Did your mother tell you I stopped by Piney Grove a couple of weeks ago to see her?

Sierra was furious. You spoke to my mother?

Yes, and Gavin the pit bull boyfriend wasn’t there to stop me. Shocking, I know.

Vanessa said, Luke’s father is not her boyfriend.

You need to rethink that, dearie, Miranda said. It’s obvious to anyone with eyes in their head he’s besotted.

Sierra pointed her knife at her. Were you pressuring her to sell Emma? How many times do I have to tell you the answer is no?

Oh, stop harping about it, Miranda said, waving a bejeweled hand. I didn’t have any luck convincing her to sell. Seems she’s as stubborn and stupid as you are. I don’t understand what the big deal is. Emma’s gathering dust in your shop. Why not make some money off her?

Emma is not gathering dust, Sierra said between gritted teeth. And for the hundredth time, she’s not for sale.

Rita sighed deeply. Will you two please stop arguing?

Sierra got up so fast she almost knocked over her tray table. I need a glass of wine, she said, and strode off to the dining room.

Miranda called out after her, "Hey, while you’re in there, sweetie, would you mind asking Eliza and Luke where my dinner is? Honestly, what are they doing in there? Making it from

Reviews for A Killer Keepsake

[cyderry · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Molly Appleby has finished her article on the Forget Me Not Doll Club for Collector’s Weekly and shortly after meeting with the club members to deliver copies of the magazine, one of the club members is found murdered, and a stolen antique doll—supposedly haunted—is found in the victim’s house. Researching the background of the doll, carries Molly deeper and deeper into the murder investigation.I loved the details of the history behind the special doll and how she protected her owners. Could dolls have a real life that we can't see, maybe?

[kris_anderson-1 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

A Killer Keepsake by Ellery Adams and Parker Riggs is the sixth book in An Antiques and Collectibles Mystery series. I enjoy visiting Molly Appleby to find out what antique she is researching in each new book and what mystery she will find herself embroiled in this time. Our regular characters are back (Matt, Tony, Sean Murphy, Clara) as we return to Burlington, Vermont. Molly has grown since the series began and I am curious how her sleuthing will tie in with married life. I thought the story contained good writing and steady pacing. A Killer Keepsake can be read on its own if you are new to this series (or if you have missed a couple of books). I was slightly overwhelmed by the number of people introduced in this book (Forget Me Not Doll Club members, Sierra’s father, Miranda’s assistant, a nurse, estranged hubby, etc.). It is hard to keep track of all the characters. I thought the mystery was interesting with it involving an 80 year old German bisque doll that is supposedly haunted. We get to find out more about the doll and how Sierra came to own it (we dive back in history to the late 1930s). Molly is brought on a consultant for her antique and collectible knowledge. We must suspend our disbelief about this as well as Molly questioning suspects without a detective present (it’s fiction). I had no difficulty pinpointing the guilty party early in the tale. There are good clues to help readers solve the whodunit before the reveal. I am glad that Molly is not having to keep her promise to give up sleuthing. I knew the writers would find a way around it. The ending of A Killer Keepsake was so sweet. A Killer Keepsake is a cute cozy mystery with a disturbing doll with a haunting history, a romantic relationship, a motivated murderer, and a collector correspondent as a cop consultant.

[carlathelibrarian · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

I really enjoy this cozy mystery series. There are two timelines happening in the story. The story in the past of this book revolves around a woman who is being physically abused by her husband in 1937. They are heading back to America after living in Germany and are flying home on the Hindenburg. She has decided to leave her husband once she is back home and she is given a doll, Emma, that is supposed to keep her safe and perhaps exact revenge as well. The story in the present revolves around a group of doll collectors belonging to a club. One of them has Emma and has heard the story about the doll. Another member wants the doll and will not give up trying to buy it. When Emma is stolen and turns up at a murder scene, she is the prime suspect. Antique and Collectibles reporter, Molly Appleby is present when the body is discovered and despite promising both her husband and mother that she will give up sleuthing, she agrees to consult with the police where the doll club is concerned.

Molly is a excellent, likable sleuth with a gift for finding clues and suspects. I enjoy learning about the various collectable pieces she researches. The element of the doll's history, along with the suspicious murder adds a great deal of suspense to the story. I loved the different elements of antiques, well crafted characters and clues and how they were woven together in the story. This story grabbed my attention from the first page and Held me captive until the end. It is a bit darker than most cozies, with the abuse, but it is still a very good story. One test of a good cozy for me is not being able to figure out the culprit to early and how believable the motive is, this book gets points for both. This book is an excellent read and a great addition to the series .