Madelyn Brighton is a force to be reckoned with. At least she’s on my side as we try to figure out who killed Nell Gellen. Madelyn, with her camera, sparkly british accent, and penchant for all things paranormal, had my number from the start.
She knew about the Cassidy charms! How could she?
With any luck she’ll be as clued in to what happened to Nell, too.
I met Madelyn the night Nell Gellen died.
She’s a heavy-set woman with a pug nose and wiry hair, clearly was so clearly not intimidated by Sheriff McClaine’s deep growls and barks. She marched right up to him, handed him a business card, folded her arms across her ample chest, and waited. After a short exchange, he let her pass through to the garden.
Mama and I were sitting on the porch. If we’d had strands of wheat, the backwoods picture would have been complete. Something hung around the woman’s neck, but I couldn’t quite see what it was. I leaned forward, stopping my chair from rocking. “What’s she got?”
“A camera,” Mama said just as the woman lifted it to her face and started snapping. She took pictures of the arbor, the ground, and everything but Nell’s dead body. Mama kept on rocking and I suspected her attention was glued to the sheriff.
“So who is she?” I asked.
“That’s Madelyn Brighton,” Mama said. “She’s a transplant. Literally. She’s from England. Met her Texan husband over there and came back with him. He’s a professor at UNT. She works for Bliss.”
I never would have guessed that Bliss could support much more than the sheriff and deputy sheriff, one office staff, and the mayor. We were somewhere between a spit of a town and a metropolitan city. “Doing what?”
“Madelyn’s a photographer. She creating a tourist brochure--”
And that’s when I knew there was way more to Madelyn Brighton than met the eye.
Do you have any friends like Madelyn? Someone who’s complicated, passionate, smart, and fun?