Antiques Slay Ride by Barbara Allan Page A

the outbuilding to steal it, and was caught in the act by the owner, whom he clobbered with the cast-iron antique before hiding the body in the sleigh.
    But perhaps the lion’s (or shih tzu’s) share of the credit must go to Sushi, who had sniffed Bernie’s blood at the crime scene and sensed its scent under Lyle’s Christmas tree, drawing her to the wrapped Santa.
    Tanya and Bo-Bo moved into Bernie’s house, and I’ve heard on good authority (the Romeos) that Bo-Bo—handy with a hammer—is making some much-needed repairs.
    The most valuable of the Christmas collectibles and the antiques were sold at auction, where they went handsomely well; but I understand that Tanya has held onto enough of them to light up the lawn next year.
    Perhaps—to the delight of Serenity’s kids of all ages—cars will once again be clogging River Road at Christmastime.
    Our apologies, Mr. Fusselman!
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    A Trash ‘n’ Treasures Tip
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    Disturbing the natural patina of antique cast iron will decrease its value; never clean or repaint it. (However, blood can be wiped off with a soft cloth dipped in mineral spirits.)

Don’t miss the next adorable Trash ‘n’ Treasures mystery
starring Brandy, Mother,
and Sushi—
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    ANTIQUES A GO-GO
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    Coming from Kensington in 2014!
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    Keep reading for a tantalizing teaser excerpt . . .
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    ANTIQUES A GO-GO
    Â 
    A Trash ‘n’ Treasures Mystery
    Â 
    Barbara Allan
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    Brandy’s quote:
In human history, the desire for revenge
and the desire for loot
have often been closely associated .
    â€”John McCarthy
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    Mother’s quote:
By the pricking of my thumb
something wicked this way comes.
    â€”(that Scottish play)
    Chapter Two
    On the Go-Go Girls
    N o, your eyes are not deceiving you, nor has the publisher made a printing error by beginning this book with chapter two. Rather, chapter one has been omitted, having been deemed by our esteemed editor as inconsequential to the murder mystery about to unfold.
    But Mother and I beg to differ!
    Mother being Vivian Borne, seventies, bipolar, widowed, Danish stock, local thespian, and amateur sleuth; and me, Brandy Borne, thirty-two, Prozac popping, divorced, and frequent unwitting accomplice in Mother’s escapades since coming home to live with her in the small Mississippi River town of Serenity, Iowa, bringing along only a few clothes and my little blind shih tzu, Sushi.
    The following is our defense for writing chapter one, however bereft of mystery content it might be.
    Several loyal readers have written to inquire as to whether we had as yet found poor Aunt Olive. Olive—actually my great-aunt—wasn’t missing in the face-on-a-milk-carton manner, as she was, after all, deceased. Her ashes had been encased in a glass paperweight and entrusted to Mother for safekeeping. Unfortunately, during a well-meaning flurry of downsizing our antiques-cluttered home, Olive had gotten herself mixed in with a collection of paperweights and erroneously sold at a garage sale to Fanny Watterson, a third-grade teacher visiting Serenity from Akron, Ohio.
    But, as Mother would say, I digress.
    Thanks to the prodding of our readers, we—that is, Mother, Sushi, and I—set out by car on an eastern trek to the Buckeye State to retrieve her/it. But in Akron, we discovered that the third-grade teacher who had purchased Auntie had done so with a paperweight-collecting friend in mind, to whom Olive had been mailed as a birthday present, in Scranton, Pennsylvania. Then, upon our arrival in Scranton, we were told by said friend (a fourth-grade teacher) that she had found the paperweight rather unattractive and possessed of “an odd vibe,” so she’d regifted it to a sister (presumably not her favorite one) in Hackensack, New Jersey.
    Now, just how Aunt Olive ended up in a torpedo hole of the USS Ling at the New Jersey Naval Museum in Hackensack is a