Author M. S. Spencer and Railroad Ties: the Marmion Grove Murders

Please help me welcome today’s guest, M. S. Spencer…

Thank you so much for having me today, Alicia! I’d like to introduce you to the setting of my latest mystery, which happens to be my hometown!

Railroad Ties: the Marmion Grove Murders, is the only one of my novels set in my home town and in the house I grew up in. Marmion Grove is modeled after a town near Washington DC. Founded in 1891 next to the B&O railroad line, it was developed as a getaway for DC dwellers during the hot and humid summers. Filled with hundred-year-old trees, including the majestic swamp magnolias, there are no sidewalks and no through streets. Fifty-four houses, including mine, are on the National Register of Historic Places. The town is peopled by a quirky assortment of academics, scientists, and eccentrics. Writing Railroad Ties reminded me of what a great place it was to live.

Another autobiographical detail is my heroine Sophie Childress’s involvement with the Vassar Book Sale. Now closed down, for forty years it was one of the largest and most successful used book sales in the country, raking in an average of $100,000 for scholarships. The sale lasted a week, but preparations, including book pricing, had to be done year-round. Sophie follows in my footsteps to learn rare book evaluation—which draws her into the mystery.

Blurb

When Sophie Childress discovers a letter written in 1920 by the witness to a murder, she enlists Noah Pennyman—owner of the house where it took place—to investigate. Who was the victim? What did the killer do with the body—not to mention a carpetbag full of money? Together they expose a complex web of family ties and lies that has persisted through four generations in the historic village of Marmion Grove. When two more corpses are unearthed, Noah and Sophie are faced with too many victims and not enough murderers.

Railroad Ties: the Marmion Grove Murders

Mystery, cozy

The Wild Rose Press, June 11, 2025

390 pp; 89,900 words
Ebook: $5.99; Print $22.99
Theme(s): Small Town, Mystery, Humorous/Comedy, Cozy Mystery

Excerpt: Sophie and Noah Meet

She parked at the curb, where a hedge of yellow forsythia marked the property line. The front lawn led up to a porch completely engulfed in a reticulated wisteria vine as thick and complex as fine lacework. Halfway up reared an ancient tree, its knobbed and serrated trunk perhaps five feet in diameter. The pendulous branches were the size of fully grown trees and were only kept from falling by a steel chain wrapped around them. Its broad leaves were gigantic. They must be almost two feet long!

As she sat gawking, a pleasant male voice said, “It’s a swamp magnolia. At least a hundred and fifty years old.”

Startled, she knocked her knee on the steering wheel. “Ouch!”

A young man came around the car and peered in her window. “Are you all right?”

She looked up into cornflower blue eyes partially obscured by a shrubbery of sandy hair. “Oh, sorry. I didn’t mean to stare. It’s just… I’ve never seen such big leaves before.”

“We used to use them as dinner plates, but they’re a bitch to wash.” He leaned in. “May I help you?”

She left off gazing at him and shook herself. “Oh. Oh, yes. Is this”—she checked Connie’s directions—“Peveril Hall?”

“It is indeed.”

“Do you live here? I’m supposed to collect a load of books for the Vassar Book Sale.”

“Ah. No. I mean, no, I don’t live here. Anymore. I used to. I grew up here, but I’ve been away a long time.”

“Then you can’t help me?”

“Huh? No! I mean, yes, I can help you. This is my house.”

“But you just said…”

He pointed to his left. “Head on up the driveway there. I’ll meet you out back.” And he loped off across the grass.

Okey doke. Sophie followed a lane along the side of the house to a gravel lot fronting a two-story garage. The backyard was dotted with small buildings. She got out and scanned the area. A small octagonal hut stood near a stately sycamore. Next to it crouched a one-room shanty with a chimney. That must be the servants’ quarters. She looked up at the garage. A huge hook painted green was attached to the wall just under the gable. “I wonder what that’s for.”

Just then the young man came around the corner of the house. “Hey there. I’m Noah, by the way. Noah Pennyman. My mother was the Vassar grad. And you are?”

She took a moment to admire his mobile, angular features. He seemed always on the verge of speaking…or maybe singing. The shock of blond hair fell negligently across his brow. When he shook her hand, a very masculine aroma of citrus and spice enveloped her. She suppressed the urge to inhale. “Sophie Childress. I’m from the—”

“Vassar Book Sale. So you said.” He reached out and flicked her hair. “Nice French braid. I never could figure out how it’s done. Come on inside.”

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About the Author

Librarian, anthropologist, research assistant, Congressional aide, speechwriter, nonprofit director—M. S. Spencer has lived or traveled in five of the seven continents and holds degrees in Anthropology, Middle East Studies, and Library Science. She has published eighteen mystery or romantic suspense novels, and divides her time between the Gulf Coast of Florida and a tiny village in Maine.

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