Teagan's Books

Wednesday, June 24, 2026

Hello, everyone.  I expect that I’m not the only one having trouble getting over this midweek hump.  Dan Antion gave us the Crayola Crayons color blue for “Cee’s Fun Foto Challenge” (CFFC).   I could also do the “One-line Wednesday” thing and use the titular question of the song below, “Am I Blue?”  Because I’m still blue about the personal disaster from last week.  I could also let that one-liner be “BEWARE ONEDRIVE”.  Enough said. I’m trying hard to put it all behind me.

Video below from The Cher Show 1975, she sings “Am I Blue”

The Scoobies are snoozing during this 105°F day, so they aren’t taking us on a color quest for blue things around the house… besides me that is.   I’ve been very surprised by how little true blue there is in this house. There’s lots of aqua, teal, and turquoise, but I don’t call those blue.  One of my book covers came to mind though — Murder at the Bijou.

A very young Lucille Ball was the spitting image of how I imagined Paisley Idelle Peabody — aka Pip, the heroine of this little 1920s series.  It’s cozy.  It’s a culinary mystery.  It’s almost obscenely wholesome (yeah, that’s a weird choice of words, but I like it). It’s lighthearted fun during these heavy days.

Here’s a little bit from the beginning of the book.  This is the setup:  There’s a big movie premier in Savannah, Georgia.  Pip is helping a friend who owns the local Chinese restaurant cater the event.  And then…

Posters of a swooning woman in the embrace of a shocked but dashing man decorated the Bijou’s entrance.  A little girl looked quietly at a poster of the monster clam.  Then she suddenly shrieked, pulled away from the woman who held her hand, and ran.  “Flannery!  Come back!  Wait,” the woman called and ran after the child.

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The music began inside the theatre and everyone cheered.  I heard muffled dialogue, but I couldn’t make out the words.  I started helping Mrs. Wong and her son cleanup from the shindig that was before the film, and gathered Granny’s empty cookie containers.  Then I jumped when I heard loud screaming emanate from the Bijou.

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“Wow!  That must be some scary movie!” Alastair Wong commented.  Then a woman and a man ran from the theatre.  The Wongs and I looked at one another, puzzled.   Something was clearly wrong.  As I walked toward the entrance, I saw the door to the ticket booth was open.  I noticed a flashlight and picked it up, as I hurried toward the commotion.  Inside the theatre the screen showed what appeared to be a fifty feet tall clam, with a hundred feet long…  Applesauce, I didn’t know what to call it!  Something like an elephant’s trunk was slowly attacking a building.

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I switched on the flashlight.  A small group of people were clustered below the stage.  When I drew near I noticed a trail of green bits on the floor.  Between the people, I saw a pair of wingtips with the soles facing me.  The green bits were all over the bottoms of those shoes — and the feet that wore them weren’t moving. 

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I pushed my way into the circle.  The man stretched out on the floor didn’t seem to be breathing.  I took a mirror from my purse and held it under his nose.  There was no fog from his breath.  One of the people started calling for a doctor, but I was sure the man was already dead.

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Soon a man with a medical bag, along with the theatre owner — Byron Binghamton, and a policeman pushed me out of the way.  I stooped down and touched my fingers to the little green bits the dead man had tracked on his shoes.  I shone the light on it and sniffed.  Cilantro…

End Excerpt

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Thanks for visiting.   I haven’t gotten over my personal tech/computer disaster.  I’m not ashamed to admit that I’m grieving over it.  So comments are closed.  However, I’ll be back, with comments open, next week.  Hugs.

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But wait — here’s the obligatory shameless self-promotion.

Purchase Link:    Murder at the Bijou — Three Ingredients I

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This blog is entirely human-written.  Furthermore, the author expressly prohibits any entity from using this publication for purposes of training AI technologies to generate text.  No part of this work may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission.  Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights.

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Copyright © 2026 by Teagan Ríordáin Geneviene

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