Sisters-in-law Peg and Rose are preparing for Christmas in Connecticut, with the annual dog-show fundraiser as a highlight. But when the jingle bell tolls for a party guest, a murder investigation breeds trouble in the latest Senior Sleuths Mystery from bestselling author Laurien Berenson.
Peg has always been the alpha dog when it comes to the Cherry Valley Kennel Club’s annual Christmas fundraiser—so she isn’t thrilled that Jonabell Goff has been chosen to run it this year. Especially since she’s had run-ins with the abrasive and rather incompetent board member. Still, she tries to be a pleasant hostess when Jonabell attends her holiday open house. But the two have no chance to work out their differences after Jonabell drops dead . . .
Rose, a former nun with the patience of a saint, may have her squabbles with her grumpy sister-in-law, but she knows Peg is no murderer. Rose is busy trying to provide a festive Christmas for the residents at the women’s shelter, but now that Peg is in a vulnerable position too—with the police suspecting her and locals giving her the cold shoulder—she jumps into the investigation. Had the kennel club treasurer been dipping her snout in the funds? What secrets were the victim’s friends and family hiding? Or did her domineering personality just drive someone to finally unleash their rage?
It’s a good thing Peg and Rose have become amateur sleuths, because this killer needs to be stopped before causing even more mayhem . . .
Release date:
September 29, 2026
Publisher:
Kensington Books
Print pages:
288
* BingeBooks earns revenue from qualifying purchases as an Amazon Associate as well as from other retail partners.
“Bah humbug!” Peg Turnbull said, as she opened her front door.
Rose Donovan, who’d just knocked on the door, was standing outside on a snowy December morning. Since her arrival at Peg’s house was expected, she’d anticipated a more cheerful greeting.
The two women had been sisters-in-law for nearly a half century, and dedicated enemies for much of that time. Having recently reconciled, Rose liked to think that they were now friends. But if her new rapprochement with Peg had taught her anything, it was how to roll with the punches.
First, however, Rose wanted to get inside out of the cold. When she tried to slip past Peg, her path was blocked by a trio of black Standard Poodles who were also standing in the doorway. Neither they, nor Peg, seemed to mind the wintry breeze that was making Rose shiver where she stood.
The Poodles’ names were Hope, Coral, and Joker. Six months earlier, Rose wouldn’t have been able to tell the three dogs apart. Now she didn’t hesitate before bending down and cupping her chilly fingers around the muzzle of the oldest Poodle.
“Hello, Hope,” she said, gazing into a pair of dark, luminous eyes. “Can I come in?”
“Of course you can,” Peg barked. “What are you waiting for?”
“Good question.” Rose straightened as Peg finally stepped out of the way.
Peg was in her early seventies. She chose her clothing with comfort in mind, wore her gray hair pulled back in a low bun, and thought makeup was for sissies. Six feet tall and built like a linebacker, she looked fully capable of flattening someone half her age.
Rose was a few years younger, and six inches shorter than Peg. She was slender in build and her posture was impeccable. The thought of flattening anyone had never crossed her mind. As soon as Peg moved back, she scampered through the opening. Rose checked to make sure all the Poodles were inside, then shut the door behind her.
“What’s the matter?” she asked Peg.
“I have a problem.”
“Of course you do.”
Rose unbuttoned her coat and unwound the wool scarf she had wrapped around her neck. Her gray hair was cut short enough to leave her ears exposed to the elements. Considering that they had an outing planned, she was realizing belatedly that she should have worn a hat.
“What does that mean?” Peg asked.
“It means I’m not surprised.” Rose draped her things over a nearby coatrack. “You’re always up to something. What is it now? I thought we were going to go Christmas tree shopping.”
“Yes, well, so did I. But that’s going to have to wait. Come to the kitchen and I’ll explain. We might as well eat cake while we talk.”
People Peg didn’t like were entertained in her living room. Those whose company she enjoyed were taken to the kitchen. It was a small distinction, but after all their years of acrimony, Rose was inordinately pleased by her elevation in status.
“Cake at ten o’clock in the morning,” she muttered.
The Poodles raced down the hallway ahead of them. Peg followed close behind, leaving Rose to bring up the rear. It occurred to her that perhaps her standing hadn’t risen very far, after all.
“It’s always a good time for cake,” Peg said. “The more cake, the better. That’s my motto. Besides, you’re as skinny as a Whippet. You could stand to put on a few pounds.”
“It’s not PC to comment on other people’s bodies,” Rose reminded her.
“Thank goodness no one has ever accused me of being politically correct.” Peg glanced back over her shoulder. “What did you have for breakfast?”
“An apple and a protein bar.”
“I rest my case,” she said.
Peg’s kitchen was spacious and well laid out. The walls were painted a sunny shade of yellow, and a picture window at the front of the house let in as much light as the pale winter sun could provide. A blond-wood, butcher block table with benches on either side took up the middle of the room.
At one time, Peg’s house in backcountry Greenwich had been part of a working farm. When she and her late husband, Max, purchased the property decades earlier, they’d renovated almost everything. Now the five acres of open land that surrounded the home were the only reminder of its rustic roots.
The Poodles trotted to the big water bowl in the back of the kitchen and lined up to take a drink. Peg went directly to the refrigerator, while Rose walked over to the stove where she saw a pot of Peg’s favorite Earl Grey tea. Mugs were in the cabinet above the counter and she helped herself to two.
Rose would have preferred coffee, but the tea was ready and easy to serve. She filled two mugs and carried them over to the table. Meanwhile, Peg opened a white bakery box, pulled out a mocha cake, and placed two generous slices on plates. Rose fetched some silverware, then the two women sat down opposite each other. The three Poodles lay down on the floor around them.
“You have a problem,” Rose prompted, when they’d both sampled their first bite of cake.
“I know.” Peg was still chewing. “I told you so earlier.”
“That was supposed to be a question.”
“It sounded like a declarative statement.”
Rose would have sighed, but the cake was delicious, so she swallowed her complaint. “Speak,” she said instead.
“I’m a member of the Cherry Valley Kennel Club.”
That wasn’t news to Rose. “I thought you were a member of all the kennel clubs,” she said.
“Certainly not. That would be impossible.” Peg paused and considered. “Though I do belong to quite a few. Nevertheless, Cherry Valley is my local club. For the last five years, we’ve held a Christmas Bazaar and Match Show each December. The event not only generates goodwill in the community, it also raises a tidy sum of money for a foundation that supports underprivileged children.”
“Good for you.” Rose had yet to see the issue. Amazingly, her cake was already finished. She briefly eyed a second piece, but then took a sip of tea instead.
“I’m the one who originally came up with the idea for the event,” Peg continued. “I’m also the person who’s in charge of running it. And yet somehow, it managed to completely slip my mind until this morning when I started thinking about Christmas trees.”
That didn’t sound too bad. Rose had imagined something worse.
“It just turned December, so there should still be enough time for you to pull things together,” she said. “Especially since you’ve managed the event before. How much organizing needs to be done?”
“At this point, I’m not sure.” Peg didn’t hesitate to reach for a second slice of cake. “I’ve been away judging quite a bit this fall, which means I’ve missed the last two kennel club meetings. Otherwise I’d be fully briefed on all the details. Instead, I’m trying to figure out how much scrambling I’ll have to do in the next few weeks in order to pull this off.”
Rose wrapped her hands around her mug, letting its warmth seep into her fingers. “A Christmas bazaar sounds self-explanatory. But what’s a match show, and what kind of work is involved in putting one on?”
“Matches are practice dog shows. They’re inexpensive, low-key events where people take their dogs to get experience being judged in a ring, without the stress and expense of a real show. Mostly, they’re held for purebred dogs, but in the spirit of the holidays, ours will be different. We call it a fun match.”
“Because the other kind isn’t any fun?”
In the previous six months, Rose had been to half a dozen dog shows with Peg. Peg always found them delightful. Rose tended to have a different opinion.
Peg chuckled. “No, and you’re missing the point.”
It wouldn’t be the first time, Rose thought. Especially when it came to Peg’s obsessive fascination with all things canine. Even when the point had been thoroughly explained to Peg’s satisfaction, Rose still sometimes missed it.
“The difference is that all dogs can enter our match show,” Peg said. “And that each one must be handled by a child. We’ll have classes for all sorts of things, like dogs with the longest ears, the curliest coat, and the tail that wags the most. There’s a nominal fee to enter, and everyone gets a ribbon and a candy cane in the end.”
“That sounds like the kind of dog show I might enjoy,” Rose mused. “If you have something simple for me to do, perhaps I could come and help out on the day.”
“Really?” Peg looked skeptical.
“I don’t see why not. I’ve devoted a great deal of my life to charitable works. Not only that, but I’m excellent at following orders.”
They both knew that was true. Rose had spent nearly half her life as a Sister of Divine Mercy, before leaving the convent in her fifties to marry her husband, Peter. The two of them now ran a women’s shelter in the neighboring town of Stamford.
“In that case, thank you for the offer, and I’ll keep it in mind. Having left things until this late date, I may need all the help I can get.” Peg pushed back her bench and stood up. Without asking for permission, she cut another slice of cake and put it on Rose’s plate. “That should keep you busy while I make a quick call to Linda Smiley.”
Rose looked up. “Who’s she?”
“The Cherry Valley Kennel Club president.”
“You’re not the president? That’s surprising. You’re always in charge of everything.”
Peg was searching around the counter for her phone. “I’ve done my stint as president. Several times, in fact. I was also on the board for a number of years, and held every other club position you can imagine. Now, at my advanced age—”
Rose coughed loudly into her hand.
“—I prefer to stand aside and let other people take charge.”
“While you quietly pull strings behind the scenes to get everything you want?”
“Just so,” Peg agreed. “It’s a situation that suits all of us. There it is!” She snatched up her phone. “Excuse me for just a minute. I’m sure Linda will be relieved to hear from me. I’ll let her know that we’ll soon have everything in hand.”
While Peg connected the call, Rose pulled her plate closer and picked up her fork. Decadent as it felt to be eating dessert in the morning, the mocha cake tasted amazing. She had no intention of eavesdropping, but once the call went through, Peg put her phone on speaker.
“Peg, how nice to hear from you,” Linda said. “How was your trip to Michigan?”
“Cold. Very cold.”
“Nevertheless, I’ll bet you had plenty of lovely dogs to judge.”
Rose tuned out as the two women discussed Peg’s judging assignment at length. That didn’t interest her at all. She would have continued to ignore the conversation, but Peg’s voice suddenly became more strident. Rose wondered what was up.
“Obviously I should have been in touch earlier,” Peg was saying. “But that’s why I’m calling now. I’ll get right to work planning the event, and I should have everything up to speed in no time.”
“But—” Linda began.
“Trust me, you don’t have to worry about a thing. Just put me on the agenda for next week’s meeting, and I’ll go over all the particulars with the other club members then.”
“Peg, you don’t understand.” Linda tried again. “You’re not running the event this year.”
“What do you mean? I always run it.”
“Yes, that’s been true in the past. But this year, the board felt it was time for a small change. A set of fresh eyes, so to speak.”
“A small change …” Peg echoed incredulously. “Fresh eyes?”
“We’re aware of how much judging you’ve been doing lately,” Linda added. “We assumed you’d be too busy to get involved this time around.”
“I’m never too busy to help out the kennel club!” Peg snapped, conveniently overlooking the fact that she’d forgotten all about the Christmas event until that morning.
“Be that as it may, the board has already asked Jonabell to head up the committee. She accepted the position and got to work weeks ago.”
“Jonabell?” Peg frowned.
“Yes, but don’t worry. Now that we know you’re free to join in, I’m sure she’ll be able to find a spot for you on her committee. Some place where you can make yourself useful.”
“Jonabell?” A flush was beginning to rise on Peg’s cheeks.
“Thank you for checking in with me,” Linda said brightly. “It’s always nice to hear from you, Peg. We’ll hash out the details of your assignment at the next meeting. Does that suit?”
Peg growled under her breath, but Linda had already disconnected the call.
“New problem?” Rose asked. She was almost finished with her second piece of cake. “Because it sounds to me as though your original dilemma has just been solved.”
“You might think so,” Peg said ominously. “But you haven’t met Jonabell.”
The women’s shelter Rose managed with her husband, Peter, was located in an area of downtown Stamford that had yet to be gentrified. The narrow streets were lined with parked cars and cracked sidewalks. Multiple houses stood side by side on small lots. Children never played outside, and window shades were usually drawn.
The three-story building, which had originally served as a family home, was in poor condition when it was gifted to Peter and Rose by their benefactor, Beatrice Gallagher. In the eighteen months since then, they’d worked hard to make repairs and to cultivate amicable relationships with their neighbors. When the housekeeper, Maura Nettles, moved into the shelter’s basement apartment—ensuring someone would be on-site at all times—Peter and Rose were free to lease a small house for themselves in nearby Springdale.
It was still morning when Rose arrived at the shelter and pulled her compact car into the narrow driveway that ran along the side of the building. She’d expected to be away much longer, but after Peg ended her phone call with Linda Smiley, she’d announced that she was in no mood to look at Christmas trees. Instead, Peg wanted to cool down by taking her Poodles for a walk on the riding trails behind her house.
Though Rose had been invited to accompany the group on their snowy trek, she’d swiftly declined the offer. Hiking through the woods in winter wasn’t her idea of a good time. Now, unexpectedly, there was nothing on her agenda for the immediate future. Since something always needed to be done at the shelter, Rose was sure she’d be able to find a way to make herself useful.
She skipped up the freshly shoveled wooden steps to a narrow, covered porch. A discreet plaque beside the front door read GALLAGHER HOUSE. As she paused to polish the sign with the sleeve of her wool coat, Rose felt a small swell of pride. Being able to provide a place of refuge and solace for women in need was no small achievement.
Leaving the convent after spending more than three decades in its cloistered halls had been a huge step. At the time, Rose had no idea what her life would look like, or what direction it might take, once she left the religious community. She’d hoped she’d be able to find a way to feel as though she was still making a difference in people’s lives. Thankfully, the work she and Peter were doing at the Gallagher House had fulfilled that purpose.
A large pine wreath, strung with cranberries and fairy lights, hung on the front door. Peg might be behind in putting up her Christmas decorations, but here at the shelter, Maura had made sure the holiday embellishments were already in place. In addition to the wreath, she’d also put a menorah in one front window and a Kwanzaa kinara and candles in the other. Peter, Rose, and Maura were all in agreement that the shelter should look as welcoming as possible.
Rose unlocked the door and reached for the doorknob. She’d barely started to push the door open when a voice from within called out, “Don’t come in until you wipe your feet on the mat!”
“Maura, it’s me,” Rose said.
“I know that,” the housekeeper replied. “Wipe your feet anyway. Dirt sticks to you, just like anyone else. I just got done vacuuming in here.”
Maura was in her midthirties, strong and sturdy, and she didn’t take guff from anyone. Her shoulder-length brown hair was pinned back behind her ears, and the sleeves of her sweater were pushed up to her elbows. She stood in the middle of the square front hall and watched as Rose dutifully wiped off her boots again.
“That’s better,” she muttered.
“Thank you,” Rose said with a laugh, as she closed the door behind her. “Whose place is this again?”
“Don’t you try to pull rank on me. You’re too softhearted to pull that off. I didn’t expect you back until later, and I’m about to make lunch for everybody. Are you hungry?”
Rose slipped out of her coat and hung it in the closet. “I just had cake.”
“Cake isn’t lunch.” Maura crossed her arms over her chest. “It’s a whole ’nother food group. I’ll put you down for a sandwich.”
“That would be great.” Rose nodded toward the closed door at the back of the hall. “Is Peter in the office?”
“Could be. I know he said earlier he had some work to do. But you know what that man’s like. You think he’s in one place, and then he gets an idea in his head and goes running off somewhere else.”
Rose smiled. Her husband did like to keep busy. “That’s because Peter has lots of good ideas.”
“Isn’t that the truth?” Maura turned on her heel and headed toward the kitchen.
Alone in the hall, Rose kicked off her boots and left them by the door. Her orange-and-white kitten, Marmalade, hadn’t come out to greet her, which probably meant she was enclosed in the office with Peter. Actually, calling the room an office was a bit of an exaggeration. It was more of a glorified closet, into which they’d managed to wedge a desk, a small file cabinet, and a rubber plant whose well-being was constantly threatened by the kitten’s propensity to rake its broad leaves with her tiny claws.
To the left of the hall was the living room, an open airy space with a brick fireplace and windows in both its front and back walls. In the middle of the room, two couches faced each other across a table that was low enough so that children could sit on the rug and play games on top of it. There was a flat-screen TV on the wall, and a card table that held a half-finished jigsaw puzzle. Since its box was currently overturned on the floor, Rose hoped there weren’t too many pieces missing.
Currently, the most notable feature in the room was the seven-foot-tall Christmas tree, whose star topper brushed the ceiling above it. All the residents at the shelter had taken part in decorating the tree, leading to a jumbled assortment of styles and colors. The boughs were hung with strings of golden lights, then further adorned with ribbons, bells, and baubles of all shapes and sizes. There was tinsel in some places and splashes of glitter in others. Two strands of popcorn were wrapped around the tree’s lower branches.
Rose knew it was currently fashionable for a Christmas tree to look Instagram ready. Nevertheless, she loved the shelter’s discordant tree, and the way it represented the efforts of the many hands that had worked together to decorate it.
A week had passed since the tree-trimming had taken place. Now, the shelter’s only resident was a woman in her twenties named Kesha, who’d arrived ten days earlier with a split lip and a scowl on her face. When Rose answered the door, Kesha had informed her that she wasn’t coming inside if anyone was planning to lecture or preach religion at her. Rose had assured her that wasn’t the case and brought the shivering woman inside.
At their first meal together, Peter mentioned that he was a licensed counselor and if there was anything Kesha wanted to talk about, he would be happy to listen. She shook her head and the conversation moved on to other topics. Kesha wanted safety, and she wanted to be left alone; Peter and Rose had respected her wishes. Subsequently, Kesha had spoken to her parents in Michigan and they’d sent her a plane ticket. She would be leaving in a few days to spend the holidays with her family.
That was the good news. The bad news was that none of them knew if Kesha would be back someday, standing outside and knocking on the Gallagher House door once again. For Rose, that was the gut-wrenching part about what they did. Peter was wonderful at his job, and she was always eager to help. Even so, sometimes it seemed as though all the counseling and good intentions in the world couldn’t keep at-risk women from going back to the men who’d made their lives miserable.
Abruptly, Rose realized she was still standing in the middle of the front hall like a complete ninny. The shelter’s office, which was tucked beneath the stairs that led to the second floor, was just steps away. She walked over and knocked on the office door before opening it.
“Come in!”
“Good, you’re here.” Rose let herself into the room. Peter was sitting behind his desk, staring at his laptop. Marmalade was curled up, asleep, in her bed on the floor.
“Of course I’m here.” Peter looked up. “Where else would I be?”
“Maura thought you might be out gallivanting somewhere.”
Peter chuckled. “Maura likes to credit me with a more adventuresome spirit than I actually possess.”
He was an older man with thinning, ginger-colored hair, and a body that was still trim despite his years. Peter had the kind of pleasant face and easygoing demeanor that made people immediately relax and want to get to know him better. His tortoiseshell-framed glasses were currently perched on the tip of his nose. Peter raised a finger and slid them back up.
“I don’t know about that,” Rose said. She sat down on the edge of the desk. “After all, you left the priesthood to marry me.”
“I did indeed.” Peter sounded pleased with himself. “It was possibly the best decision I ever made.”
“Only possibly?”
He winced slightly. “Sorry, I didn’t mean that the way it sounded. It’s just that leaving behind a life that I had thought was my calling was hard. Even when I knew in my heart that it was the right decision.”
“It was the same for me.” Rose smiled down at him. “But now it feels as though both of us are exactly where we belong.”
“Agreed,” Peter said. “Did Maura tell you that Kesha is flying out on Saturday? I’m going to drive her to the airport.”
“I knew . . .
We hope you are enjoying the book so far. To continue reading...
Please log in to recommend or discuss...
