Murder at the Dolphin Inn: A Rex Graves Mystery

By #1 Kindle bestselling author of Christmas Is Murder.

* "A winner. . . A must for cozy fans." --Booklist, starred review

Cozy up with a margarita or a cup of tea and settle in for a contemporary whodunit à la Agatha Christie.

When Scottish barrister Rex Graves and fiancée Helen disembark in Key West during a cruise to Mexico, they stumble upon a B & B where a bizarre double murder has just taken place. Victims Merle and Taffy Dyer, dressed as clowns in celebration of Key West's Fantasy Fest, have been served up cold for breakfast in their own kitchen. The intrepid, resourceful and downright curious Rex, gaining recognition as a world-famous sleuth, is all for abandoning the cruise and delving into murder instead. Little does he suspect what horrors fill the gingerbread-trimmed Dolphin Inn, and who among the guests and family may be a killer in disguise.

"Traditional mystery fans will appreciate the retro Agatha Christie style."
--Publishers Weekly (Murder on the Moor)

"With a host of colorful characters, a dose of humor and a balmy locale, you will want to devour this well-plotted mystery."--Mystery Scene Magazine (Murder in the Raw)

"This is a well-crafted read and a logical and well-plotted conclusion."--Top Five Books of 2011 Selection by CRIME FICTION LOVER and MYSTERY GUILD BOOK CLUB pick (Murder of the Bride)

Excerpt of Murder at the Dolphin Inn. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.

The Dolphin Inn
Key West, FL

#1, McCullers Suite ~ Bill Reid
#2, Tennessee Williams Suite ~ Mae & Emily Hart
#3, Hemingway Suite ~ Diane S. Dyer
#4, Jimmy Buffet Suite ~ Dennis & Peggy Barber
#5, Robert Frost Suite ~ vacant
#6, Audubon Suite ~ Chuck & Alma Shumaker
#7, Writer's Garret ~ Michelle Cuzzens & Ryan Ford
#8, Poet's Attic ~ vacant

~ONE~

Gift-wrapped in yellow ribbon, the Dolphin Inn stood amid a lush landscape abloom with orchids, red-spiked bromeliads, and Chinese Palm fans. White porches decorated with gingerbread trim wrapped long arms around the lilac clapboard, while a transom window depicting frolicking blue dolphins topped the Victorian mansion's front door. Hard to imagine a double homicide taking place here, Rex thought. The bed-and-breakfast was, to use a British expression, rather "twee."
Geckos skittered before his sandals on the brick path that led to a white picket fence separating the property from the street, where he had left his fiancée among a crowd of onlookers. Undeterred by the traffic cones, their number had increased in the half hour or so since he had been inside the guest house. There would doubtless have been more spectators had it not been the morning after the annual Fantasy Fest Parade, a night of heavy drinking and revelry, which he and Helen had missed as they sailed from Miami to Mallory Square on a Carnival cruise ship.
Empty beer cans and strings of iridescent beads littered the sun-dappled sidewalks of the street. Rex derived no small measure of satisfaction thinking that the fall weather back home in Scotland would be gray and drizzly; not balmy as here in Key West. Dressed for the most part in slogan T-shirts, shorts, and sunglasses, the rubberneckers formed an almost comical contrast to the dark-uniformed and serious-countenanced city cops on duty displaying the blue and gold patches of the KWPD on their sleeves.
"He really fancies himself, doesn't he?" Helen said, nodding in the direction of the patrol officer on guard outside the gate. His upper body was muscle-bound to the point of diminished mobility, and he wore a wide brimmed hat cocked jauntily on his head, his black holster polished to the patina of glass. "Is it true the two dead bodies are dressed up as clowns?" she asked.
"Aye," Rex replied in his Lowland Scots. He had just seen them. Hands bound, plastic bags over their heads, they sat slumped on the floor of the kitchen. "Merle and Taffy Dyer, owners of the bed-and-breakfast."