Plaid and Plagiarism: The Highland Bookshop Mystery Series: Book 1

By Molly MacRae

 

A murder in a garden turns the four new owners of Yon Bonnie Books into amateur detectives, in a captivating new cozy mystery novel from Molly MacRae.

Set in the weeks before the annual Inversgail Literature Festival in Scotland, Plaid and Plagiarism begins on a morning shortly after the four women take possession of their bookshop in the Highlands. Unfortunately, the move to Inversgail hasn’t gone as smoothly as they’d planned.

First, Janet Marsh is told she’ll have to wait before moving into her new home. Then she finds out the house has been vandalized. Again. The chief suspect? Una Graham, an advice columnist for the local paper—who’s trying to make a name for herself as an investigative reporter. When Janet and her business partners go looking for clues at the house, they find a body—it’s Una, in the garden shed, with a sickle in her neck. Janet never did like that garden shed.

Who wanted Una dead? After discovering a cache of nasty letters, Janet and her friends are beginning to wonder who didn’t, including Janet’s ex-husband. Surrounded by a cast of characters with whom readers will fall in love, the new owners of Yon Bonnie Books set out to solve Una’s murder so they can get back to business.

A delightful and deadly new novel about recognizing one’s strengths and weakness—while also trying to open a new book shop—Plaid and Plagiarism is the start of an entertaining new Scottish mystery series.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Pegasus Crime
• Release date: Dec 6, 2016
• ISBN: 9781681772967

Molly MacRae

Molly MacRae is the national bestselling author of Lawn Order, Wilder Rumors, and the Haunted Yarn Shop Mystery Series, including Knot the Usual Suspects and Plagued by Quilt. Her short stories have appeared in Alfred Hitchcock Mystery Magazine for more than twenty years, and she has won the Sherwood Anderson Award for Short Fiction. Molly lives with her family in Champaign, Illinois.

Book preview

1

And there’s no need to cluck your tongue at my back, either, Christine said, not waiting for Janet to catch up. You know well enough it’s time we went to see the house for ourselves and find out what the delay is."

It should have been the best kind of morning the Highlands had to offer, and Janet Marsh was irritated that it wasn’t turning out that way. Proof of the day’s bright possibilities met her as she followed Christine Robertson out the door and down the steps of Yon Bonnie Books—their bookshop. Traffic along the High Street promised eager tourists. The breeze from the harbor carried the tang of salt and only a hint of fish. Water lapping the sand below the seawall matched the clear May sky, with no threat of rain. A swath of bluebells disappeared into the oaks fringing the banks of the River Sgail, and the river, not much more than a wide stream, splashed under the arched stone bridge she and Christine crossed. The hills rising behind the shops and houses and wrapping around the farthest ends of Inversgail appeared to embrace the village this morning, looking benevolent rather than brooding.

Janet wondered briefly about joining the bluebells and disappearing into the trees instead of following Christine down the street. I don’t want to intrude—

We won’t intrude, Christine said. The soft burr of her accent took on a sterner tone. We will simply walk past the house. We might go so far as to knock on the door.

No knocking, Janet said. Her Illinois twang had the advantage of sounding firm and final. I agreed to give the renters another few days.

Christine pulled up short. Again? When did you agree to that? It’s the first I’ve heard of it.

Rather than look Christine in the eye, Janet admired the red-tiled roof of Paudel’s Newsagent, Post Office, and Convenience and pretended her short gray hair needed better arranging behind her ears.

You’ve gone soft since leaving the States, Christine said.

Not soft. I’m treading carefully and trying to fit in. I don’t want to be one of those people who insist on things being the way they are back home, or try to impress people by throwing money around, or talk louder as if that will help people understand them.

Christine put her arm around Janet. You never behaved that way before and you aren’t going to start now. You and Curtis and the children were well liked all the years you came here. Christine’s reassurance came to an awkward stop. Janet and her family had quit spending part of each summer in their Inversgail house when her husband, Curtis, a professor of economics, started an affair with one of his married graduate students. Anyway, Christine plowed on, Mum and Dad remember you and that’s saying a lot, because half the time Mum might as well be away with the fairies. But to tell the truth, you and I are both strangers. All you have to do is listen to me to know that. I gave Illinois forty of my best years and Illinois paid me back by removing any trace of my lovely Scottish accent.

The women looked at each other and sputtered. Christine’s native accent might have faded according to her aged parents’ ears, but few Americans would agree.

It is true, though, Christine said. "You should hear the dreadful things Mum and Dad whisper behind by my back. Except they’re both so deaf they only think they’re whispering. She eyed Janet up and down. You’re fine the way you are. All four of us are, and you and I and the girls are going to make a go of this move or die trying."

The girls were Janet’s thirty-eight-year-old daughter, Tallie, and Tallie’s former college roommate, Summer Jacobs. The four women— mother, daughter, and longtime friends—were now business partners and the new owners of Yon Bonnie Books, to which they ambitiously planned to add a tearoom and B & B.

Here’s a fashion tip, though, Christine said. If you want to pass undetected amongst the natives, consider wearing something other than your orange-and-blue University of Illinois hoodie.

"The hoodie wouldn’t be a problem if you would listen to reason and put off this intrusion. At least until tomorrow. I’m going to the launderette tonight." Janet congratulated herself for sounding only slightly defensive.

"And a trip to the launderette wouldn’t be necessary if you were already in your house, with your clothes and belongings out of their packing cases."

Keep your voice down. I’ll be in the house soon enough.

And so you should be, Christine snapped. "You own the bloody place. If you’re not the least bit curious about what’s causing the delay, then you’re soft and daft. I’ll be in it soon enough, she says. We’ll have this sorted soon enough. Come on."

Janet was about to protest but decided against it. Christine was right. She was curious about the delay keeping her out of the house she’d owned for thirty years. She and Curtis—Curtis the rat—had bought it after a sabbatical year at the University of Edinburgh and a summer holiday visiting the western Highlands and islands with Christine and her late husband, Tony. When Curtis had asked for a divorce, Janet engaged the best lawyer she could find and took the rat for as much as she could, including alimony, a decent lump sum (so decent it was almost indecent, which made her wonder what else the rat must have been up to over the years), and the Inversgail house free and clear. Jess Baillie, the estate agent handling the rental of the house, had begged for a few more days before turning it back over to Janet. Janet liked and trusted her, and she’d agreed without asking for the explanation Jess hadn’t offered. But how could it hurt to walk past the house with Christine and see if the renters were at least packing?

I knew you’d see it my way, Christine said when Janet gave a single, sharp nod and set off down the High Street.

They walked side by side, two friends comfortable in their similarities and either happy with their differences or able to put up with them. Christine Robertson, spare and angular, had grown up in Inversgail, the daughter of a district nurse and the Inversgail Grammar head teacher. Janet Marsh, shorter and better upholstered, came from a family of central Illinois corn, soybean, and pig farmers. They’d each followed their husbands to the University of Illinois and met when Janet had been her son’s show-and-tell during third grade. Christine, by then a school social worker, had been walking past the classroom when Janet thrilled her son’s classmates by demonstrating her state fair prizewinning pig call. Over the years Christine would tell people they’d bonded over Janet’s reverberating sooey and Janet always returned the compliment by saying their friendship was cemented with Christine’s recipe for shortbread. Christine’s shortbread, they decided, would take pride of place as the first item on their proposed tearoom’s menu.

Look, isn’t that Rab MacGregor? Janet asked. She’d caught sight of a sandy-haired man and a sandy-colored Cairn terrier sitting on the seawall, faces turned to the sun like basking cats. In fact, there were two cats splayed on the wall, soaking up their share of the sun, beside the man and dog. From that distance, the ages of man, dog, and cats were equally inscrutable. We should offer him the job at Yon Bonnie now, while we have the chance.

Are you sure you don’t want to advertise? Christine asked. Cast a wider net? The cats look more alert than he does.

He always did fine work for us at the house, Janet said. "I don’t see why he wouldn’t be as good at general cleaning and odds and ends at the shop, too. Besides, he’s always been nosy. He might be able to tell us something about the house. Hullo there, Rab! she called. Rab MacGregor!"

Rab looked around, and Janet waved so he’d know who had called his name.

Christine waved, too, and then stopped. Did he just— But the rest of what Christine said was lost in the noise of a motorcycle speeding past.

A day coach followed the motorcycle, frustrating the women by idling in front of them. They heard the magnified voice of the onboard tour guide telling her group what time and where to meet the bus later in the day and pointing out the public toilets. When the bus moved on, only the cats still basked on the seawall across the street.

Where’s Rab? Janet asked. Do you see him? I’m sure he heard me and saw us wave.

He did. And then his eyes nearly popped out of his head. I think he’s done as good as his name and scampered.

As good as his name?

Rab, short for Rabbit, and it’s what they do—leap and run.

I thought boys named Robert were often called Rab.

That shows you’re not as nosy as Rab. Christine scanned the seawall and street. He got the name as a boy because he was fast off the mark in footraces. Good at jumping, too. But his name is Rupert. Blasted bus and blasted Rupert. He probably slipped over the wall when the bus stopped in front of us. Leapt and ran. And I’d like to know why.

"We don’t know that he saw us, Janet said. Maybe he had someplace else he needed to be."

Not from the looks of him before he saw us, which he did. Christine looked ready to cross the street and organize a search party for the absent handyman.

If you still want to be nosy about the house, let’s get it over with, Janet said, so we can get back to the shop. She started walking. Honestly, I never knew you were so suspicious.

Of course I am. Christine checked the seawall one last time before catching up to her. If one of us is going to be soft, then the other one needs to be suspicious.

I don’t see the connection, Janet said, and I don’t want to argue about it.

Explaining isn’t arguing.

"And I won’t like your explanation if the gist of it is that I’m soft. A person who figures out how four women can buy a business in another country and relocate three thousand six hundred and forty-three miles to run it is not soft," Janet said.

You’re right.

There were hurdles covered in ridiculous amounts of red tape every step of the way and I got us over them.

You did, Christine agreed.

Do you have reservations? Are you sorry we took the plunge?

No. That answers both questions. What about you?

No. But I think we should add an addendum to our agreement stating that we ask each other those questions once a month.

Once a quarter, Christine said. The longer stretch will account for short-term vacillations of spirit. We’re all bound to have small doubts and low periods from time to time.

Only natural, Janet said. I worry especially about Tallie and Summer. But we’ve had this conversation before. Please don’t turn into a bully.

As soon as your confidence in the way Jess Baillie is handling your property begins to waver, I’ll revert to the cozy, comfortable Christine Creampuff you know and tolerate. In the meantime, I’ve got your back. She took Janet’s arm as they continued down the street. I love that phrase, but I don’t think I’ve ever actually said it before. Thank you for giving me a reason.

Always happy to help.

Janet noted the familiar businesses she’d passed or stopped in each of the summers she’d spent in the village—West Highland Wool, Howitt & Dugdale Solicitors, W. Brockie Greengrocer, MacBrayne’s Pub. They were family-run and they’d occupied the same buildings for so many generations they might have been mortared into place with the stonework when the buildings went up. There were new businesses, too. Skye View Sea Kayak had moved into a building formerly occupied by a video store. Two shoe shops, rivals for decades, were now an Internet café and an outdoors shop. Janet was happy to see the optimism of the newcomers, but when she and Christine came to the chiropodist, the chemist, and the cheese shop—the trio her children had dubbed the chops—she was just as glad for the vigor of the long established.

A young woman came out of the cheese shop as they passed. She held the door open while a boy and girl jostled their way out along with the smells of cheddars, blues, and farmhouse.

Mull Cheddar, Christine said in a reverent whisper. She dropped Janet’s arm and spread both of hers, breathing in deeply and luxuriously. I have so missed Isle of Mull Cheddar.

You should’ve been called Mouse, Janet said. We’ll stop and get some on the way back. Oh, my. She’d started walking again, but immediately took two steps back, bumping into Christine, who gave a squeak.

Sorry, Janet said, but look who’s moved her office out of Buchan Place and onto the High Street.

Christine stepped around her and read the brass nameplate beside the door of the business next to the cheese shop. ‘Jess Baillie, Estate Agent.’ She’s moving up in the world. You didn’t know this?

You’d think I would, but no. Good for her, though, right?

And handy for us. We can still go by your place, if we want to, but as long as we’re here, let’s intrude on Jess first.

Janet caught her arm. Not me. You. Christine’s mouth opened and Janet rushed to get her reasoning in first. If I go in and give my name to her assistant, and if there really is something going on, we might not get anywhere. Jess might have told her she doesn’t want to see me. And if she catches sight of me before I see her—

Aha. Got you. Wait here out of sight. I’ll go and act the perfect mouse. And may I just say, Janet Marsh, Inversgailian incomer and soon-to-be successful bookseller, welcome back to the Sisterhood of the Suspicious.

2

Christine came back out of the estate agency in less time than it took Janet to remember how to check her phone for missed messages.

That was suspiciously fast, Janet said, giving up on the phone and slipping it into the back pocket of her khakis. What could you possibly learn in three minutes? Or even twice that?

The assistant’s name is Rosie. She’s hardly more than a schoolgirl. She’s open, friendly, and chatty. Christine ticked those points off on her fingers. Then she drummed the fingers against her lips for several seconds before going on. She might be more chatty than usual because she’s lonely. Or maybe I’m slipping back into my school social worker mode and overanalyzing. Anyway, Jess hasn’t been in the office for the past two days. With no notice and without giving a reason.

Does she have to give a reason? Janet asked. Maybe it’s personal and she doesn’t want to tell chatty Rosie.

Rosie says it isn’t like her.

How well does she know her? I’ve dealt with Jess for the last seven or eight years and she’s always been reliable.

She didn’t tell you why the renters need more time to clear out of your house, Christine said.

That doesn’t make her unreliable. Besides, I didn’t ask.

Maybe you should have. Or when you hung up your reference librarian hat, did you forget the art of asking essential questions?

Janet looked at the toes of Christine’s tennis shoes, now six inches from the toes of her own favorite old leather shoes. Hers could use a lick of polish, she noticed. Her sense of personal space could use another twelve inches, too, but she moved forward an inch, tipped her chin up, and met Christine’s blue gaze. I would make you blink first, she said, but I have this terrible crick in my neck. She closed her eyes and massaged the back of her neck—which didn’t hurt in the least. I’m sure it’s from not sleeping in my own bed with my own pillow. She dropped her hand and smiled. You’re a good advocate, Christine, and I appreciate your help with the house.

Then why are we arguing?

"We aren’t. We’re tripping over a bump in the road. Rosie has heard from Jess, right?"

By text. She told Rosie to cancel her appointments, with her apologies. Nothing else, though. She didn’t give Rosie a reason for the cancellations to pass along to the clients.

Janet shrugged. Again, did she need to give a reason?

Rosie asked me if she should be worried about Jess, which shows she’s already worried. And then she asked me what she should do. Me—a stranger off the street.

A stranger who listens, Janet said. And who might be dressed like her safe and sensible grandmother. Plus, when you listen, you get that look in your eyes—

Christine’s eyebrows drew together.

That’s the one. Anyone within range of those eyebrows and that long nose will believe you’re capable of getting to the bottom of things. Don’t overdo the eyebrows, though, or you might scare someone. What did you tell Rosie?

"That if Jess doesn’t show up today, and if all she does is send another text, Rosie should ping her back immediately and ask when she will be in the office. Then I gave her my number and told her if Jess doesn’t answer that question, she should phone me."

"Do you think she should be worried about Jess? Should we?"

Christine looked at the photographs of properties for rent and for sale taped to the estate agent’s window for passersby to browse. Cancelling appointments, staying away from the office, and not communicating with staff is an odd way to do business. I don’t know Jess, though, and I don’t know how excitable or prone to exaggeration Rosie is, so it’s hard to say how worried she should be.

Maybe no more worried than I’ve been about my house up until now. But that worry is ratcheting up since you talked to Rosie. What will you do if Rosie calls you?

"Call the police. Or am I being too suspicious?"

What would you tell them? That Jess is sending messages but not answering them?

And that she hasn’t been in the office for a few days. But none of that sounds dire or urgent, does it? When did she ask you to give the renters more time?

Two days ago, Janet said. By email.

Maybe we should find out where Jess lives and cruise by her house, too.

We do have a business to learn. We told the girls we wouldn’t be gone long.

I didn’t mean we’d go now, Christine said.

Good.

We can go this evening.

Going by my house can wait for this evening, too, then. Janet looked down at her orange-and-blue sweatshirt. Although maybe not. In fact, now that my suspicion pump has been primed, let’s walk faster.

They turned the corner into Fingal Street, taking the gentle climb toward Argyll Terrace at a pace that soon made Janet’s prairie-born calves protest. She didn’t slow down, though, even when Christine began to puff. The shops gave way to houses with front gardens enclosed by low walls. Fingal Street narrowed and they dodged around cars parked half on the street and half on the pavement. They crossed Gordon Street and then Ross. Christine fell behind and Janet didn’t wait. When she reached Argyll Terrace, she turned right, and her feet carried her past two houses she barely glanced at. She stopped at the third house—a traditional stone detached cottage with four rooms down and two up—the house she and Curtis had been so tickled to own. Their house.

Standing in front of it now, she finally admitted to herself why she hadn’t pressured Jess about the delays keeping her from moving in. She’d been uneasy because she didn’t know how she’d feel when she saw the house or when she stepped inside. And she’d been reluctant to find out. She and Curtis and the children had been happy here. She’d thought they were happy. And when their son, Allen, married a young woman from Inversgail and moved to Scotland, to Edinburgh, and then with their retirements approaching, she’d expected to spend more time in this house. Not no more time.

The two of them, together, blessed and happy.

She stared at the house, lips pressed tight. Stared at the windows Curtis was so proud of reglazing with the antique glass he’d spent a summer searching for. Stared at the door knocker, a brass wolf’s head she’d found in a shop in Tobermory on the Isle of Mull. Curtis hadn’t liked the knocker, but he’d secretly bought it and put it up for her birthday. It had been a wonderful surprise, and she was surprised now at how angry the wolf’s head and the reglazed windows made her. Because she was soft. Soft and weepy over the loss of the life she’d been so sure she was meant to live.

It looks empty, Christine said, coming up beside her. No curtains at the windows. It’s a charmer, though, and always has been. I can’t believe you haven’t at least walked past it yet. To see if there’s any garden left, if nothing else. She stretched her back, sore from wrestling the weeds out of her parents’ neglected garden. Then, before Janet realized what she was doing, Christine walked up the flagged front path.

Christine! Janet hissed.

Don’t worry. I won’t knock.

All right—

I’ll ring.

Janet rushed after her. She was too late. Christine had pressed the bell. When no one answered, Janet let her breath out. But Christine didn’t give up. She pressed the bell harder, as if that would make it ring louder and bring someone running. It didn’t.

In the silence after Christine took her finger from the bell, Janet imagined she heard her children’s giggles on the other side of the closed door . . . heard the rustle of intimate whispers as Curtis slipped into bed in their room under the rafters . . . heard the clink of morning coffee cups on the small covered deck they’d built outside the back door so they could see the harbor and islands and watch for approaching storms. She heard Curtis teasing that she’d never been good at reading weather signs. She looked the brass wolf in the eyes and felt her anger shift.

She lifted the heavy ring the wolf held in its mouth, and brought it down—bang. She was the one in control. She was the strong one— bang. She was the one who’d figured out how she could make this move and make the bookshop work—bang. This was her life now. This was her house—bang. And Curtis could go—bang. She let the ring go. It fell with a last hollow thunk, and she stroked the wolf between its ears.

"No one’s coming because the place is empty, Christine said. But if the renters have moved out, why can’t you move in? You’ve got your keys, haven’t you? Let’s go in."

Not until I know they’re truly gone.

Then let’s look in the windows.

At the back, Janet said, and she led the way around the house.

Act casual, though, Christine said. If neighbors see us, we want to look like we’re supposed to be here.

"I am supposed to be here."

That’s the spirit.

The small backyard—back garden, Janet reminded herself—sloped down to meet that of the house below on Ross Street. The renters had terraced the slope with three raised beds bordered by rounded lumps of granite. Curtis’s ugly garden shed, which she’d never liked—her ugly garden shed—stood in a corner at the bottom of the garden. When he’d told her he bought a shed, she’d pictured something charming, one that looked as though a writer could turn it into a tiny retreat, as though Alexander McCall Smith might emerge from it and ask for a cup of tea. What

Reviews for Plaid and Plagiarism

[Ruth Treloar · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

A well-written cosy with some fun repartee between characters. Nicely drawn scenes and believable behaviours.

[nlb1050 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

What a great start for a series.

[billiebook · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

A cute cozy, but the "plagiarism" of the title played very little part in the narrative and even less in the resolution of the mystery.

[bookconcierge · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

Digital audiobook performed by Elaine Claxton Four women take possession of their new bookshop, Yon Bonnie Books, in the Highlands of Scotland. They are: Janet Marsh, a newly divorced woman; her good friend Christine, a retired social worker; Janet’s daughter Tallie, who’s given up her career to move to Scotland with her mother; and Summer Jacobs, Tallie’s good friend. Unfortunately, the move to Inversgail has hit a snag. Before she can move in, Janet discovers her house has been vandalized, and learns that it isn’t the first time. The real estate agent suspects Una Graham, an advice columnist for the local paper. When the four women decide to look for clues to the vandal’s identity, they find a body in the garden shed – Una, stabbed in the neck. I like these characters. They’re a little obsessive about recording and keeping notes, but what can you expect from a social worker, attorney, journalist and librarian? As amateur sleuths go, they make a pretty good team. Add the various local residents, an annual Literary Festival, a constable who’s never had a murder case before, plenty of suspects, and references to books, books, books, and more books, and you have a recipe for an enjoyable cozy mystery.Elaine Claxton does a fine job performing the audio. With her skills as a voice artist she was able to give each woman a distinct voice, which helped in keeping characters straight.

[cherylgrimm · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

Set in Inversgail, Scotland with a cast of many, 4 women set in to run an established bookstore, which is about all that goes right for them upon landing. An instant murder happens in the back shed of a residence they had hoped to reside in and sets off a madcap sleuth-a-thon that introduces most of the townspeople they hope to inhabit alongside. Illicit affairs, long-held grudges, mysterious letters, bags of trash, books, scones and The Cloud all play into the surprise ending and arrest. I had hoped for more scenery, but did get a fair dose of local dialect to enjoy in lieu. The ending was the last thing (person) I suspected, so bravo for the twist.

[katebaxter_1 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Charming cozy mystery set on the coastal edge of the Scottish Highlands. Four women of two generations throw in their U.S. towel, pool their funds and purchase an established Scottish bookshop. Three of this team are American and the 4th is returning to her native home to keep an eye on and assist her aging folks. Divorcée and former librarian, Janet, wrangled ownership of a sweet Scottish cottage from her ex-husband during the settlement. She would welcome the opportunity to settle into that cottage. However, the home has been made "off-limits" upon the discovery of a murdered woman in the shed out back. The investigation team appears to be dragging their feet, forcing Janet and her lawyer daughter to inhabit two of the cozy bedrooms above the bookshop. Well, enough's enough and valiant four decide to do a bit of sleuthing on their own. All this on top of learning the ins and outs of running their new combination bookshop-tea room-b&b establishment.In spite of the books charm, there is little realism - virtually no real police work, unlikely amount of free snooping time and the excusing of that overreach. But overall, it was an enjoyable read and it laid out the premise for the sweet and charming, "The Highland Bookshop Mystery Series".Synopsis (from book's back cover):Set in the weeks before the annual Inversgail Literature Festival in Scotland, Plaid and Plagiarism begins on a morning shortly after the four women take possession of their bookshop in the Highlands. Unfortunately, the move to Inversgail hasn’t gone as smoothly as they’d planned.First, Janet Marsh is told she’ll have to wait before moving into her new home. Then she finds out the house has been vandalized. Again. The chief suspect? Una Graham, an advice columnist for the local paper—who’s trying to make a name for herself as an investigative reporter. When Janet and her business partners go looking for clues at the house, they find a body—it’s Una, in the garden shed, with a sickle in her neck. Janet never did like that garden shed.Who wanted Una dead? After discovering a cache of nasty letters, Janet and her friends are beginning to wonder who didn’t, including Janet’s ex-husband. Surrounded by a cast of characters with whom readers will fall in love, the new owners of Yon Bonnie Books set out to solve Una’s murder.

[chazzifrazz · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

The first book in a new series, it takes place in Inversgail, Scotland.Jane Marsh, retired librarian from Illinois, recently divorced from her philandering husband, has moved to Scotland to live in the cottage the couple used to vacation in. She got it as part of her divorce settlement. She has also purchased Yon Bonnie Books bookstore and is going into business with her fellow librarian Christine, daughter Tallie and friend Summer.Things are fine taking over the bookstore, except for a couple of hiccups. Janet is waiting for her renters to move out of the cottage and a body was found in the shed on her property, so now it is a crime scene and off limits. The victim is the advice columnist for the local paper. She is well known, but not necessarily well-liked. Now who would want to kill her?Inversgail is a small village with a variety of characters. The four ladies decide they will help solve the crime. Perhaps it will get Janet into her home sooner.It is a cozy read. I have book 2 to read next and am looking forward to it.

[fernemysteryreader · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

This novel is the 1st of a new series entitled, “Highland Bookshop Mysteries” with the setting in the small community of Inversgail, Scotland. The 4 main characters are Janet Marsh and girlfriend Christine Robertson, Janet's 38-year old daughter Tallie, and Tallie's former college roommate Summer Jacobs. They are the new owners of Yon Bonnie Books (an established bookstore in Inversgail although neither the shop nor the town exist in real life) and the anticipation of adding a tea room and B&B.

I enjoyed the story but at times felt like certain "extra" elements were added to lay the groundwork for the series rather than for ease of reading and pure delight of the first tale. I do not plan on continuing to read this series as at times Janet can become a bit tiresome.

[phoenixcomet · Rating: 2 out of 5 stars]

Theoretically this should've been a book I loved. Set in the Scottish highlands, 4 women who met in Illinois either relocate or move back to bonnie Scotland to open a bookshop, tea room and B&B. In the process of so-doing, a local reporter is murdered in the one woman's shed and the group of 4 decide that they are going to solve the crime. First off, there are two too many many characters. Second, they all blend together, third there was far too much rambling and texting this one, texting that one that it was annoying. All in all, the not main character of Rab and his dog Ranger were far more interesting than Janet, Christine, Summer and Tallie. I suppose the potential for a decent series was being set but at this point, I'm not interested in continuing that exploration.

[jessiqa_1 · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

After her divorce to Curtis the rat, Janet and her friends pick up from Illinois and move to Scotland to run a bookshop. Before she is able to move into her house (which had been rented out in her absence) someone is killed in the garden shed. Janet, Christine, Tallie (Janet’s daughter), and Summer investigate the murder that literally happened in their own backyard and maybe along the way they’ll find out who has been leaving trash inside the house. Perhaps the two mysteries are related. This first book in the Highland Bookshop series gives a good introduction to Janet, but less so to the other women. I really wish this book gave me a greater insight into Tallie and Summer, especially. The dual mystery certainly kept me guessing, but the character work was lacking. Further complicating my enjoyment of the book was the fact that I didn’t like Janet. It sort of detracts from the coziness of a cozy mystery if the lead is unlikable. Perhaps I should try one of MacRae’s other mystery series instead.

[lyndainoregon · Rating: 2 out of 5 stars]

Whole schools of red herrings – some of them the size of whales – clutter this cozy mystery concerning the murder of an extremely unlikable newspaper columnist in a small Scottish village.

The amateur sleuths trying to “help” the investigation (largely by withholding evidence) are an unlikely quartet who are opening a book store / tea shop / bed and breakfast in said small village.

This is the kickoff book in a series I won’t be pursuing.

[whitreidtan · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

I have a wee bit of a fascination with Scotland and I've been trying hard to broaden my horizons with my reading lately so Molly MacRae's Plaid and Plagiarism, a Scottish Highlands set cozy mystery (a genre I rarely read) where the amateur sleuths have bought a bookshop should be a perfect way to ease into something not in my usual way of things, right? It certainly should have so I'm left wondering if it was the book or if it was me or some unfortunate combination of the two since the bones and the desire were there (so appropriate a phrase given a mystery, no?).American Janet Marsh, her best friend Christine, Janet's daughter Tallie, and Tallie's college roommate Summer, have bought a Scottish bookshop called Yon Bonnie Books and are embarking on second careers as book sellers in the quaint Highlands town, Inversgail, where Christine grew up. Janet and her family used to spend summers in Inversgail and Janet ended up with the cottage they summered in after her divorce from her ex, The Rat. The four women, who used to be a librarian, a social worker, a reporter, and a lawyer respectively, plan to learn the book selling business from the former owners Kenneth and Pamela. They are also renovating the upstairs as a B and B and next door as a tea shop. When they first arrive, Janet, who is truly the main character and who the narrative focus is mostly on, discovers that she and Tallie cannot move into her cottage because it has been vandalized. The realtor is convinced that the local agony aunt, Una Graham, who wants desperately to be an investigative reporter, is behind the vandalism. But then Una's body, a sickle in her neck, turns up in the ugly shed at the back of Janet's garden. Secrets come to light showing that almost everyone in town had a reason to dislike Una so figuring out who disliked her enough to actually kill her won't be easy. As Una's body is found at Janet's and as the bookshop is also involved, the four new owners team up to try and discover the murderer at the same time they are trying to get ready for the local Inversgail Literary Festival and navigate the tensions in the local literary community.As the first in a new series, MacRae introduced a lot of characters here in addition to her four bookshop owners. Creating so many characters and trying to give them each enough of a backstory that she wasn't just introducing names with no identifying characteristics, she also had to add plot thread after plot thread. This might have worked better with fewer secondary characters, waiting to introduce some of the locals later on in the series. As it was, there were too many characters and not enough fleshing out of those most important to this first book. The narrative pacing was uneven, slow and drawn out in the beginning and too quick in the end. The constant rehashing of what each of the four women knew took away from the story and could easily have been skipped. Their sleuthing was rather scattershot, making it surprising that they figured out who the murderer was (although on the plus side, the who of it was a surprise to the reader). In fact the plot, the characters, and the book as a whole could have used a lot of tightening up. I really did want to like this but found myself easily distracted from the story and had a hard time settling back down into it each time I picked it up. If you are a cozy mystery reader and are used to the long build up in the first of a series, you might appreciate this one enough to pick up the second. For me though, I just don't think I'm cut out for the slow start, or maybe mysteries are never going to be my thing.

[thornton37814 · Rating: 2 out of 5 stars]

Janet Marsh and her daughter purchase a bookshop in Inversgail, Scotland with plans of adding a tea room and bed and breakfast to its offerings. Janet inherited a home, but when she checks to see if the renters have moved, she finds trash everywhere and a body in the shed. I was looking forward to a Scottish setting, but aside from throwing in a Scottish term (and usually the the same one) every once in awhile, this book could have been set in the United States. The title is misleading because plagiarism as a possible motive isn't even mentioned until late in the book. The author relies too much on conversation to drive the narrative and never gives the characters time to reflect on anything. The conversation is overdone and exhausting. The constable is very tight-lipped and underdeveloped as a character. Since this is the first book in the series, a cast of characters at the front would have been useful. I would prefer my Scottish mysteries to have a more authentic Scottish feel to them. I'll likely skip future installments, even though it has a bookstore setting. I received an electronic galley of this for review from the publisher through Edelweiss.

[ethel55_1 · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

Janet Marsh is happy to leave the US (and her ex) behind and begin a new chapter in her life. After summering in Inversgail, Scotland for years, she is one of four new owners of Yon Bonnie Books. Her longtime friend (and actual Scot) Christine, her daughter Tallie and Tallie's old friend and college roommate Summer round out the main characters. I felt like we jumped right into the story and their relationships. The house the Marshes rented for years is now going to be Janet's permanent home. But with the relator acting cagey as to when she can move in, there are immediate mysteries to solve. The four women (both friends/mother-daughter) have a long history that is revealed slowly as the book moved along. I think Janet is definitely the main protagonist in this story, but all share equally in the purchase and running of the bookstore and the soon to be renovated tea room and B&B.

[cathyskye · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Author Molly MacRae has created quite the amateur sleuthing quartet for the start of her new Highland Bookshop series. Janet Marsh is a librarian, her thirty-eight-year-old daughter Tallie a lawyer, Tallie's college roommate Summer Jacobs is a journalist, and Christine Robertson is a social worker who's returned to her Scottish roots. Between them all, they have plenty of experience that will help them solve crimes. Their decision to come to the Highlands, settle down and open a bookshop, tea room, and bed and breakfast will be seen as vicarious wish fulfillment by many readers, and MacRae does address some of the differences in the way things are done between Scotland and the United States.There is also an interesting secondary cast that I can't wait to see become more fully fleshed as the series continues-- like Constable Norman Hobbs, a man called Rab and his dog who are both good at disappearing, and an elderly woman the four women call Mrs. Tiggy-Winkle who spends a lot of time in Yon Bonnie Books. I also loved the mentions of groups like "Obsessive Outlanders" and "Born-Again Bravehearts." If only I liked the local librarian as much, but she's simply too good at foisting her work off on others for that to happen. Not everything was smooth sailing for me while reading Plaid and Plagiarism. The ladies do something that gets my dander up: they withhold evidence from the police. (Shame on them!) It's also a bit easy to deduce the identity of the killer, but with the book's Highland setting and the fine ensemble cast that the author has created, I am certainly looking forward to the next book in the series!

[kris_anderson-1 · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

Plaid and Plagiarism by Molly MacRae is the first book The Highland Bookshop Mystery series. Janet Marsh has just bought Yon Bonnie Books in Inversgail, Scotland along with Christine Robertson (Janet’s best friend), Natalie “Tallie” Marsh (Janet’s daughter), and Summer Jacobs (Tallie’s friend and college roommate). Janet has been divorced almost five years from Curtis (she calls him The Rat). The four of them were ready for a change (especially Janet). They have plans to add a tearoom to be called Cakes and Tales and a B&B above the shop that they will call Bedtime Stories. Janet is anxious to get settled into her home (she received the house in the divorce settlement), but her estate agent, Jess stated it would be two more days (no other details). When Janet and Christine go to investigate, they find Jess in the kitchen which is full of garbage (and it reeks). Jess is less than forthcoming on why the kitchen contains garbage. The four ladies return that evening to explore the house further (make sure the rest of the house is in good condition). The check the shed in the garden and find the body of agony aunt, Una Graham with a sickle in her neck. Una had interviewed them earlier in the day for an article for the Inversgail Guardian. The four women started their investigation before the constable arrives on the scene. The four women combine their skills (reporter, librarian, social worker, and lawyer) and delve into their investigation. Will these amateur sleuths be able to bag the culprit?I enjoy cozy mysteries because I get a mystery with a softer approach. I found Plaid and Plagiarism to have too much of the cozy factor. We have a charming Scottish town with a variety of gossipy, quirky characters. There are Gaelic words and phrases sprinkled judiciously throughout the story (did you know a bothy is a cottage). The book is nicely written (as are all of Molly MacRae’s books), but I found the pace to be a little slow (and the book is too long). I felt that there were too many characters, and it is very difficult to keep them all straight. It is hard enough remembering the four main characters (which is three too many). The story is told from Janet’s point-of-view so we get frequent mentions of her ex-husband and how he destroyed their marriage (do not forget that she calls him The Rat more often than be his name, Curtis). This group also visits Paudel’s Newsagent, Post Office and Convenience (that is the whole name) frequently. In addition, we get chats with the owner as well as food and candy descriptions (they seem to eat sweets quite a bit). I give Plaid and Plagiarism 3 out of 5 stars. I think the book needed a little less of the quirky factor. There is the little old lady that sits in Yon Bonnie Books, reading their knitting books, and knitting (she knits little Nessie’s). They have no clue who she is and they can barely understand her (this is just one example). The mystery was interesting (just not enough of it), but I was disappointed with the way it was handled. The ladies set up a document (in the cloud) that they keep track of the details of their investigation (which they review a few times). I prefer to solve the mystery myself. That is the best part of a cozy mystery. I figured out the killer early in the book, but I believe most readers will be surprised by the culprit’s identity. I felt that the author tried to put too much in one book. The idea for the series has potential. I just felt that the books needed a little trimming and refining.

[debf56 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

I loved this book. It is written where you feel like you are right there in Scotland at the bookstore with Janet, Christine, Tallie and Summer. I think the quirky characters just make this book. I couldn't put it down and can't wait to read the next one.