Review Rating: 5 Stars
Reviewed by Carol Thompson for Readers’ Favorite D. W. Thompson’s The Mystery at Love’s Manor offers a blend of mystery, family drama, and supernatural intrigue centered around the enigmatic Emma Love. As the first entry in what suggests to be a thrilling series, this book introduces readers to Emma, a private investigator with a complex family history and a knack for solving puzzles in her small town. The plot begins with Emma's return to her childhood home, Love’s Manor, after a decade-long absence. Thompson wastes no time setting up a riveting mystery, with Emma’s sister-in-law, Gwen, disappearing under suspicious circumstances. As Emma delves deeper into Gwen’s disappearance, she unravels dark family secrets while confronting her troubled past. Emma is a strong, independent woman emotionally scarred by her family’s tragic history. Despite their unresolved issues, she remains determined to help her estranged brother, Daniel. Emma’s voice is sharp, witty, and filled with emotional depth, making her a protagonist readers will care about and cheer for. The story’s pacing is steady, with plenty of red herrings and twists. The house, rumored to be haunted, is the perfect setting for the eerie, atmospheric tension that permeates the narrative. Thompson’s descriptions of the manor create a sense of creeping dread, making it as much a character as any of the characters. The Mystery at Love's Manor also explores themes of family loyalty, guilt, and the lingering impact of past traumas. D. W. Thompson crafts a well-paced, atmospheric tale that will appeal to fans of cozy mysteries, family sagas, supernatural thrillers, and anyone who loves a can’t-put-it-down novel.
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Will the real Moll Dyer please stand up?
Questions like this are often asked in light of the resurgence of interest in Moll’s story since I penned my novel about her. This is shown by the recent Weather Channel’s broadcast, several books attempting to narrow the search for her historically, as well as my own historical fiction novel about her. All provide interesting and speculative insights to the life and times of our infamous witch. As the anniversary of the publication of "Sister Witch" nears, I’d like to share my thoughts about her. I’m a native of St. Mary’s County, Maryland. Something that Moll and I share. I’ve actively researched her life since I first heard her tale- sometime around 1967. Dark tales around a late-night campfire were the source of many a child's nightmares--and inspiration for some. But how does one research a legendary figure? One with minimal historical proof of her existence? True we have the road named after her, and likewise a small stream. There’s the rock purported to be where she breathed her last. There was the "Blair Witch Project" that was inspired by Moll's story (although they moved her to a different area and location is integral to her legend). Most researchers miss the colonial letter describing her “countenance” in an unfavorable manner, but we’re mostly left with legends. Oral tradition- once the only historical reference, and the basis of the old truism “where there’s smoke, there’s fire." How apt is that for Moll’s tale? My research has included dozens of interviews with local families- families resident to the area since the time of Moll Dyer. I discovered that each had their own version of Moll’s life, with minimal variations. As there is a dearth of historical records, it is toward these legends we must focus our efforts. (According to the Archives of Maryland, the 1st loss of St. Mary’s County records was in 1768 when records kept at the home of Owen Alien (Allen?) were burned. The Archive notes this only as an FYI as “every surviving court record of the period (colonial) was destroyed in the fire of March 8, 1831”). To add to the confusion and speculative nature of the search, Ancestry.com lists five pages of Dyers on passenger lists arriving in the United States during the period, a minimum of six Mary or Margaret Dyers. It goes on to state that “lists were not kept for every ship” and many have been lost. (The endearment “Moll,” by the way, was most commonly used as a nickname for Mary, but was also occasionally seen for any “M” feminine name including, but not limited to, Margaret, Martha, Martina and Melinda, etc.). What can we derive from the legends associated with Moll Dyer? Although there are some small deviations to the legend, the majority of local families’ oral traditions agree: she was an herbal healer and hermit. Most state her origin was Ireland, although she likely arrived on a passenger ship from England. She arrived on our shores single and unaccompanied and never married. She preferred the company of the Native Americans to her European neighbors. She dressed in a manner of lost affluence (threadbare clothes originally made from the finest materials). She froze to death on the coldest night of 1697 after a citizen’s mob burned her small cabin to the ground. (FYI, with this information, in “Sister Witch, The Life of Moll Dyer,” I created a tale that honored every variation of the story as related to me. I didn’t feel it would be faithful to her legend and her life to have done otherwise.) So then, who is/was Moll Dyer? Moll was a strong, independent woman who did not hesitate to speak her mind. She was unafraid of bucking social conventions in a time it was dangerous to do so. I won’t fabricate a correlation between the legend and other past lives lived here. It’s unnecessary to make her story more real. Her tragedy speaks its own truth and perhaps that’s enough. My answer to the question is Moll’s truth, even if intangible. Moll Dyer is everyone who’s faced injustice or been mocked for being different; those scorned for their beliefs and tormented for living a life true to themselves. She is anyone condemned at the court of public opinion and castigated for their lack of popularity or political correctness. She’s the embodiment of Sarah Goode of Salem fame, Anne Frank, John the Baptist, Joan of Arc, Anne Boleyn, Rosa Parks and-- the list goes on and on! Moll could be the patron "saint" of them all. In conclusion, I believe Moll Dyer would be proud of her legacy, and that she’d feel some measure of peace and exoneration from the tales being told of her today. She was once used as a cautionary tale- a warning to little children to behave, but no longer. Now we remember Moll whenever we’re bullied, accused without cause or feeling friendless. Perhaps she gives us a twinge of conscience when we are the ones doing the bullying. It warms my heart to think so- that some good is our final inheritance from the tragedy of Moll Dyer.
Excerpt from the storyDear Diary,
I know it has been a while since I’ve written to you...not since Mommy’s accident two years ago. I forgot to take you home with me last summer, diary, but I guess I haven’t had much to say...or write since then anyway. I just didn’t want to talk about any of it anymore. Daddy said it must’ve been an accident when Mommy slipped, but there are constant reminders. Grown-ups are always asking about everything. I don't know what I would do if it wasn’t for my best friend Zanna. “How are you coping, Elena?” They always asked. “Do you miss your mommy?” (Duh!). “Are you doing OK, sweetheart?” Well, no I’m not. OK? I am not happy! I don’t know if I’ll ever be happy again! Then it would be “How’s your father doing? And little Sam?” Daddy is sad, he’s always sad now. Sam doesn’t remember much. So, please stop asking. Just leave us in peace. OK? Peace and quiet, that’s all we need. I don’t know why Daddy wanted to come here…again this summer. He knows how much I’ve hated camping ever since Mommy’s accident. He said this was his memorial to Mommy, to come here every year like we did in the past before... everything. I think Mommy would rather be left in peace to sleep. Thank goodness Daddy let me bring Zanna with us again this year. He’d promised to take Sam and me to the beach, but the new woman Jessica, she hates the beach you know. No surprise then, here we are at this old cabin. When we came last year, I got covered with a rash all over me. Poison Ivy Daddy said and it itched like crazy too. I think I caught it by the old abandoned well behind the outhouse. We always throw our table scraps in there. Only Daddy and me know about the old well. Oh and Zanna. She knows too, of course. We’re all good at keeping secrets. Oh, and another thing about camping. I hate biting bugs! And my sleeping bag smells old and moldy, like our basement at home. Daddy won’t let me play there but I wouldn’t want to anyway. It’s dark and scary. One time I thought I heard Mommy crying in the dark down there. Daddy said it was just my imagination, but Zanna heard it too. I bet Jessica wishes I lived down there. She tells Daddy that children should be seen, not heard, but I think she’d rather I wasn’t seen either... Anyway, I’m lying on my stinky old sleeping bag while I write this. Zanna and I spread the bag out to share as a pad under us and we’ll pull a blanket over us to sleep tonight. I don’t want to sleep on that stained mattress in the room we share with Sam. It looks like a prop from those murder mystery shows that Daddy says I can’t watch. He says I’m young and impressionable. That’s his nice way of saying I’m immature and corruptible. The stains look like dried blood or something worse and I think a mouse is living in it too. I can hear it scratching in there now. Well, I’m getting tired, dear diary, it was a long drive getting here, but I’ll write more later. Maybe my writing to you will keep Zanna and me from being bored or going mad. Elena Darie, 12 years old last week. Happy birthday to me. Dear Diary, Things have gotten worse since Elena wrote to you last. She said we could share you and we both promised not to read what the other wrote. It’s only our third night here and already Elena’s legs are covered with bites. It looks like she has some kind of skin disease...like leprosy maybe? Her daddy says it’s the “skeeters” getting her but I saw a spider on the window in our room too. We’re not scared of spiders but I wish they wouldn’t bite us or crawl on us while we’re sleeping. The bugs don’t bother Sam, even though we sleep in the same room. Jessica told Elena it was because she’s so fat and eats too much candy. She says that’s why bugs like her sweet blood. Mr. Darie cut his eyes at her when she said that but he didn’t say anything. I whispered in Elena’s ear when I saw her eyes misting up. “Don’t let her see you cry. You can’t let people see that you’re weak or that they’re getting to you.” I knew her mommy always told her that. Still, it didn’t help her mommy any. Spiders and skeeters aren’t the only critters around here. Sam caught a snake today and Jessica screamed when he showed it to her. It was just a little old green snake. I wish he’d thrown it at her, but Sam isn’t like that. He doesn’t like her either though. Jessica told Elena that she was her daddy’s new girlfriend and she might as well get used to the idea. Elena told me she wished her daddy would send Jessica away. But what if Jessica was making him happy? He’s been so sad...what if he sent her away instead? I don’t know what Elena would do then... I’m worried about her. Talk soon. Love, Zanna Read the full story in the Anthology on AMAZON |
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