The Green Baize Door by Eleanor Birney

The Green Baize Door

By Eleanor Birney

An atmospheric historical mystery where every character has their own agenda, and their own truth.

In the fashionable mansions on Chestnut Hill, a simple green baize door separates the masters’ world from the servants’. That door is thrown wide when an elderly housekeeper is found brutally murdered on the first day of the new century. Marie Chevalier, the housekeeper’s poor but ambitious granddaughter, and James Lett, the mansion owner’s kind but indolent son, suspect the killer is connected to one of their families—but which one?

From drawing rooms to alleyways, their separate investigations lead them through the sometimes lavish, sometimes brutal, landscape of turn-of-the-century New England. When long-buried secrets begin to unravel the fragile threads that hold both households together, Marie and James must find a way to bridge the gulf between them—if only to prove that the murderer belongs not to their own world, but to that strange and foreign land on the other side of the green baize door.

Inspired by real-life events, The Green Baize Door is a richly layered historical mystery that explores themes of class identity, family loyalty, and the sometimes blurry line between virtue and vice.

Excerpt

The Inquest

Chapter 9 — January 8, 1900 (715 Words)

The courtroom was packed. The "suspicious" death of a prominent family's housekeeper on the first day of the new century had fired the public's imagination. Headlines concerning "The Murder on Chestnut Hill" leapt off the front page of every rag in town.

"There they are!" Eliza yanked Marie to the left, and Papa's bulky frame came into view.

Papa stood encircled by at least half a dozen people and was gesturing emphatically. The moment he spotted them, he broke off and extended his arm. "There you are, my darlings! I was worried sick."

Eliza glanced at Marie, a hint of a smile bending her lips.

Papa closed the distance between them and took Marie's elbow. "Come, my angels. Rest yourselves. You must be cold and weary."

The people nearby bent curious gazes in their direction, and Marie had to resist the urge to pull her elbow free and storm from the room. The crowd parted, and Papa led them to their seats. The moment they were seated, Papa resumed his position in the heart of the semi-circle, his head high and his chest puffed out. In his chocolate striped suit and sapphire-blue silk vest, he looked like a carnival barker.

"What a terrible ordeal these little lambs have endured," Papa announced to no one in particular. "They were very close to their grandmother, and she, poor soul, dearly loved them."

Marie dropped her gaze to the floor, her face burning. How could he be so undignified?

Charlie sat a couple of chairs over. His face was pinched and worry lines creased his brow. Marie moved to the seat next to him and whispered, "Papa is making a perfect spectacle of us."

Charlie shrugged. "At least he's enjoying himself."

"I only wish his enjoyment didn't come at our expense."

"You should try to be more generous. He's had a tough time of it, what with those idiot policemen hounding him day and night."

Marie looked away, abashed. There was, she supposed, no real harm in his theatrics, but just this once, she wished he would refrain from making them conspicuous. Before she could say this, Charlie pointed to a group of men sitting a few tables over. "Do you see that fellow over there? The pale gent in the high-backed chair?"

Marie scanned the crowd until she spotted a likely candidate: an older man with the gaunt, sallow countenance of someone recently ill. "What about him?"

Charlie leaned in to whisper, "That is Mr. Lett."

"Oh." Marie straightened to get a better view. According to Mémé, Marie had met the family when she was very young, but, try as she might, she couldn't remember it. They did not seem like strangers, though. Mémé had spoken of the Letts so often, and with such regard, that Marie had developed a great admiration for them. In her imagination, they represented everything that was fine and noble in the world; that is to say, everything that her own family was not.

Several men in dark suits, all holding tall, gleaming hats, stood near Mr. Lett's chair. She wondered who they were and hoped they would disperse once the inquest began. If Mr. Lett were alone, it would be easier to work up the courage to introduce herself.

"I wonder if he brought the old girl's money?" Charlie asked, interrupting her thoughts.

Marie's head snapped toward him. "This is neither the time nor the place for that conversation, Charlie."

Charlie heaved a long-suffering sigh.

"I mean it," she hissed. "Don't you dare disgrace us."

Charlie rolled his eyes and stood. "I'm going to get some air."

Marie glanced at their father, wondering if she should enlist his aid. He remained ensconced in the crowd's center, one arm flung casually around a bald man she didn't recognize, the other cutting a wide swathe through the air as he spoke. No, she thought, Papa would be no help at all.

Her attention was drawn to the front of the room, where several men had approached a scarred oak table. One of them banged a gavel, and the crowd fell silent. Marie returned to the seat next to Eliza. Her sister sat rigid, twisting her hands on her lap. Marie grabbed one of those pale hands and squeezed it. The inquest had begun.

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Eleanor Birney

Eleanor Birney writes historical mysteries about class, moral ambiguity, and people who aren’t satisfied with life on their side of the green baize door.

She received a BA in History from UC Berkeley, and works as a legal research attorney, a day job that feeds her love of precision, research, and puzzles.

Growing up in foster care gave her a lifelong fascination with the way society steers people into assigned places—and how some of those people refuse to stay in them.

She lives in Northern California with her family. The Green Baize Door is her debut novel.

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Book Review: Quetzalcoatl: Time Stones Book II by Ian Hunter

 

Quetzalcoatl: Time Stones Book II 
By Ian Hunter

Jessie Mason lives with her nose in the pages of history. But she is discovering that the past is a dangerous place where she doesn't belong, and knowledge alone is not going to save her.

Jessie’s life has become a series of terrible challenges. Now she must lead her friends in the hopeless task Grandfather set them: hunt down and destroy the Time Stones. But her leadership has already failed. Tip has left them and Abe has simply disappeared, while she and Kes are trapped in the heart of an ancient empire in turmoil.

Thrust into a fractured, threatened Mexica nobility, Jessie is immersed in a way of life, fascinating and disturbing in equal measure, yet powerless before the approaching Conquistadors and the impending clash of cultures.

Even as the fabulous city of Tenochtitlan descends into savage violence, Jessie’s determination to succeed is undiminished. But with world history taking a new, bloody direction before her, she is finally forced to decide which is more important: continuing the task or simply surviving.

I went into Quetzalcoatl: Time Stones Book II feeling fairly confident. I knew Jessie, Kes, Tip and Abe. I had a vague but serviceable understanding of the Time Stones. I assumed the gang would regroup, dust themselves off after the chaos of Book I, and continue the adventure in a reasonably organised fashion.

Reader, the book laughed at that idea.

Instead of easing us gently back in, the story grabs that confidence, ties it to a Time Stone, and throws it several centuries into the past. The characters are scattered, confused, and very much not having a relaxing time. Survival becomes the first priority, followed closely by “please let me find the others before something terrible happens.”

Spoiler: terrible things are still very much on the menu.

Jessie ends up carrying a huge amount of the story here, and she absolutely earns it. She’s dropped into a civilisation that doesn’t exactly hand out welcome baskets to mysterious strangers. One minute she’s trying not to attract attention, and the next minute people are debating whether she might actually be connected to a god. Which is… not exactly a low-pressure situation. When she uses the power of her stone to stop a sacrifice, things escalate quickly. Suddenly she’s less “confused teenager from another time” and more “possibly divine figure,” which sounds impressive until you remember how fragile that kind of reputation can be.

Kes, meanwhile, has a truly miserable run of luck. His storyline is rough, brutal at times, and very good at making you mutter “oh no… oh no, this is bad.” Without Jessie stepping in when she does, his arc might have ended extremely early. Their connection grows stronger here, but the book wisely keeps it messy. There’s loyalty, yes — but also awkward feelings, jealousy and the occasional emotional wobble that makes their relationship feel real rather than perfectly heroic.

Tiponi and Abe take a bit more of a supporting role this time around, largely because the story focuses on Jessie and Kes navigating this particular historical disaster. And what a disaster it is. The novel leans into the Aztec world with vivid detail, especially as the shadow of Hernán Cortés and the siege of Tenochtitlan begins creeping into the background. It’s fascinating, tense, and occasionally horrifying in a way that reminds you history was not exactly a gentle place.

The Time Stones themselves are also becoming less “cool magical artefact” and more “deeply suspicious responsibility that probably needs a warning label.” Yes, they can save lives. They can also drag you somewhere wildly inconvenient and expect you to deal with it.

What I loved most is that these characters are not polished, flawless heroes. They’re scared. They argue. They occasionally make decisions that feel like they were made under the influence of panic and poor timing. But they keep trying — and that stubborn loyalty to one another carries the story forward.

This book is tense, dramatic, occasionally stressful (in the good way), and packed with moments that make you sit there thinking, well… this is definitely not going to end peacefully.

Naturally, I had a great time.

By the last page I was equal parts impressed, emotionally invested, and quietly suspicious of what the author plans to put these poor teenagers through next.

Five stars — and possibly a small therapy fund for Jessie, Kes, Tip and Abe.

***

Ian Hunter

Books have been an important part of my life as long as I can remember, and at 54 years old, that’s a lot of books. My earliest memories of reading are CS Lewis’, “The Horse and His Boy” – by far the best of the Narnia books, the Adventures series by Willard Price, and “Goalkeepers are Different” by sports journalist Brian Glanville. An eclectic mix. My first English teacher was surprised to hear that I was reading, Le Carré, Ken Follett, Nevil Shute and “All the Presidents’ Men” by Woodward and Bernstein at the age of 12. I was simply picking up the books my father had finished.

School syllabus threw up the usual suspects – Shakespeare, Chaucer, Dickens, Hardy, “To Kill a Mockingbird” – which I have reread often, and others I don’t immediately recall. By “A” level study, my then English teachers were pulling their hair out at my “perverse waste of talent” – I still have the report card! But I did manage a pass.

During a 35 year career, briefly in Banking and then in IT, I managed to find time, with unfailing family support, to study another lifelong passion, graduating with an Open University Bachelors’ degree in History in 2002. This fascination with all things historical inspired me to begin the Time Stones series. There is so much to our human past, and so many differing views on what is the greatest, and often the saddest, most tragic story. I decided I wanted to write about it; to shine a small light on those, sometimes pivotal stories, which are less frequently mentioned.

In 1995, my wife, Michelle, and I moved from England to southern Germany, where we still live, with our two children, one cat, and, when she pays us a visit, one chocolate labrador. I have been fortunate that I could satisfy another wish, to travel as widely as possible and see as much of our world as I can. Destinations usually include places of historic and archaeological interest, mixed with a large helping of sun, sea and sand for my wife’s peace of mind.

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