The Lost Daughters

A mystery by Janis Bolster; second novel in the Sally Jean Chalmers series (the first, Murder in Two Tenses, was published in July 2010). 332 pages, with 43 illustrations. $17.95. ISBN: 978-0-9824848-6-9. Publication date: September 2011.

The Lost Daughters has been chosen as a finalist for the 2012 Maine Literary Awards in the crime category.

A Reader's Guide is available for this title.

About The Lost Daughters

Having moved to Portland, Maine, with (well, sort of with) her straying boyfriend, Sally Jean Chalmers is now reevaluating her choices. The boyfriend hasn't lost interest in her; he's just not good at resisting new interests. Her freelance editorial income has dried up, and although she loves her garret, she doesn't want to starve in it.

Then local professor Amy Cottrell hires her to edit an old family diary kept by Amy's great-grandmother, Fanny. Sally likes Amy and loves the diary. Fanny wrote about everything she saw or felt or heard in Portland: a man with his hat on fire during the great blaze of 1866, the cargoes on the ships she watched from the top of the brand-new Portland Observatory, her hatred of the jewels hidden somewhere in the family home – and her growing certainty that her father and grandfather committed unspeakable crimes.

Sally has just begun uncovering secrets when Amy is murdered, with Sally's fingerprints all over the murder weapon and police on her doorstep. Before Sally can clear her name, she’s embroiled in treasure hunts, research that exposes the dark side of the Portland shipping trade, and a tense pursuit across Casco Bay.

From The Lost Daughters:

The most intriguing thing in the diary, by far, was the censorship. Most of it followed no clear pattern: half a set of knitting directions were missing, or the end of an innocuous list. But three times in the part I’d read, the break came in the middle of an entry concerned with family history. On October 30, 1882, Fanny wrote:

Aunt Emerson thought I had gone out, before her dear friend Mrs Parker arrived for a visit. I had meant to go to the stores for gloves and ribbon, for Saturday’s party but the sun blazed too much for my headache. Instead, I sat in the darkest corner of the back parlor, with a book of sermons on my lap, in case I should be asked what I did. The carpet in that room is an ugly one, I wonder I never noticed before. There I sat, my mind on nothing, and when I heard Mrs Parker admitted in the next room, I thought, how I should have made my escape sooner, for now I was trapped. Aunt Emerson would not like my excusing myself, past her visitor, so I thought I would stay where I was, and wait till she had gone. They spoke of small nothings, things of no interest even to themselves I’m sure.

They spoke then of Grandmother Cottrell, and I listened rather more than I had done, because I know little of her. “It was Frances dying that killed her, I’ll tell you that” said Mrs Parker. Aunt Emerson said “There’s dying and dying, if you know what I mean,” and Mrs Parker said she did know, and did Aunt think Grandmother Cottrell knew how Frances

And there the entry had been ripped to a stop.

 

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