To Kill a Hummingbird (
A Bird Lover's Mystery #4)
by JR Ripley
Pub. Date: 7/11/2017
Genre: Cozy Crime
For Amy Simms, owner of Birds & Bees,
nothing is more important than impressing her old professor, but this
odd bird is about to fall to earth . . .
When her favorite ornithology professor comes
calling, Birds & Bees owner Amy Simms hangs six hummingbird
feeders around the shop to welcome Professor Livingston with a flock
of his favorite flying creatures. But Amy soon finds that the sugar
water in the feeders brings more than a swarm of hummingbirds. It
also attracts murder.
Professor Livingston is just as friendly as Amy
remembers, but something seems to be troubling him. When Amy pays him
a visit that night, she finds the professor slumped over a table with
a pair of scissors buried in his neck. And standing over his body is
Rose Smith, the local bookseller, who claims she killed him. But
while the police believe they have a bird in hand, Amy thinks the
real killer may still be in the bush . . .
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In addition to writing the Bird Lover’s
mystery series, J.R. Ripley is the critically acclaimed author of the
Maggie Miller mysteries and the Kitty Karlyle mysteries (written as
Marie Celine) among other works. J.R. is a member of the American
Birding Association, the American Bird Conservancy, and is an Audubon
Ambassador with the National Audubon Society.
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EXCERPT:
I drove back to Bookarama. This time I
was fortunate enough to
find a parking slot right in front.
Everyone seemed to be gone. The
sign over the door was turned off, and
the street was dark. Was I too
late?
I shut off the ignition and hurried to
the entrance. A couple of
lights were still on inside toward the
back. The door was unlocked.
I went inside. Several paperbacks were
scattered on the floor between
the door and the sales counter. The
folding chairs were just as
they had been. I couldn’t see the
signing table because the projector
display screen had been moved in front.
“Rose?” I called. There was no sign of
her or her daughter or any
of the other clerks.
I headed for the table to look for the
books Derek had purchased,
thinking that maybe Mason had left them
there. He’d obviously returned
to the campground.
Rose came from the storeroom, pulling a
long, rolled-up rug the
color of a purple finch. She dropped
the heavy rug at her feet when
she saw me. The plank floor shook. Her
eyes flew to her right, and
my eyes followed.
Mason Livingston was seated at the
signing table. His torso
drooped forward and his head rested on
the table. A pair of scissors
protruded from his neck.
Rose bit her lip. “He’s dead. I killed
him. And I’m glad he’s
dead.”
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