Blog Tour: Dashiki by Florence Wetzel

Hi guys,

today’s post is part of a blog tour for Dashiki by Florence Wetzel. Thank you to Rachel & Florence for having me be part of this tour.

Extract from Dashiki: A Cozy Mystery by Florence Wetzel

For Bookish Rambles

This scene opens the story, with the heroine Virginia rushing to share incredible news with her friend Nathan: the discovery of the long-lost Five Spot tapes, an iconic piece of jazz history.

What am I supposed to do with this information?

That was the question Virginia Farrell asked herself as the door to 1305 Bloomfield shut behind her. She stood in the building’s bare concrete courtyard, facing Bloomfield Street in the mile-square city of Hoboken, New Jersey.

Due to half-Irish, half-Spanish genetics, Virginia had shoulder-length auburn hair and light-olive skin. Her coloring tended to show her emotions for all to see, and that moment she could feel her cheeks flushing deeply.

Virginia pressed a hand to her chest. She needed to calm down and think logically.

“OK,” she said aloud to herself. “You were given two pieces of information. One can wait until later, but you need to deal with the other one right now.”

A wave of happiness surged through her. She thought again of what she had just seen. Tapes. From the historic 1957 Thelonious Monk–John Coltrane gig at the Five Spot in New York City. Recorded by Naima Coltrane and thought to be lost forever. Certainly the greatest discovery in jazz since—well, since Henry Grimes was found living in a hotel in Los Angeles after he’d been assumed dead for the past thirty years.

These tapes were not only a great discovery for jazz, but for music and people everywhere. Virginia’s mission was to bring the news to the world.

But she couldn’t do it alone, and she knew exactly who she needed to speak to: Nathan Garrideb and John Upgrove. Nathan first, since he was a closer friend and worked right here in Hoboken.

“Excuse me,” she called out to a passing woman. “Do you have the time?”

“Three on the dot.”

“Thanks.”

Virginia adjusted the straps on her knapsack. She could just make her 5 p.m. bus if she walked fast. This was news she wanted to give in person.

Virginia hurried past stately brownstones and turned left onto Frank Sinatra Drive, a scenic road near the old Maxwell House Coffee factory. She continued down to the Hudson River, eventually passing Frank Sinatra Park as she moved quickly along the waterfront.

The pleasant path was lined with trees and dotted with benches, the breeze off the river brushing gently against her skin. The early August day was comfortably hot, and the waterfront was full of people relaxing in the sun, exercising their dogs, or taking a walk like Virginia.

Although no one moved quite like Virginia. She was on a mission, and heaven help anyone who got in the way of the five-foot redhead propelling herself down the shady pathway.

Nathan worked at 111 River Street, one of the swank office buildings constructed in the late nineties as part of Hoboken’s waterfront redevelopment. When Virginia entered the cavernous marble lobby and presented herself at the security desk, she saw the guard’s watch: 3:25. She hastily signed her name and the time in a black logbook, then headed for the elevators.

Impatience rushed through her every time the elevator stopped to let out her fellow passengers. Finally the doors opened onto the seventh floor. She hurried out and ran toward the glass doors that announced Jazz Now in jaunty black letters.

She waved at Maggie the receptionist, then made a right andheaded to Nathan’s office. Previously located in dingy quarters in Manhattan’s Chelsea neighborhood, Jazz Now had relocated to Hoboken six months previously. The carpets were mint green, the cream walls decorated with laminated album covers, and Louis Armstrong’s “Cornet Copy Suey” wafted through the hallways. In fact, music was everywhere: each employee had a CD player in their office, and as Virginia barreled down the hall she heard bits of Jaco Pastorius, Billie Holiday, and Gary Peacock coming through the open doors.

Virginia was about to round the corner when Byron Ffowlkes came out of his office. He was the last person Virginia wanted to see! Byron had bought Jazz Now a year before and installed himself as publisher, editor-in-chief, and resident know-it-all. Tall, dark, handsome, and English though he was, Virginia always thought he was rather cold, and nosy to boot.

Byron also had an affectation. Actually he had several, but the most glaring—literally—was his penchant for dressing all in one color, often in eye-popping hues like bright salmon or canary yellow. Today he was decked out in a turquoise suit with a matching earring.

“Virginia!” he declared in his posh accent. “You look healthy. How are you?”

“Good,” she answered breathlessly.

“On your way to see Nathan?”

“Yep.”

“Very well. You know of course about the Rex Royal show at the Blue Note?”

“I do.”

“Mortimer and I will be present on Thursday. Late set of course. Shall we see you there?”

“I’m not sure of my plans yet. Maybe!”

Virginia gave a little wave and hurried off. Hopefully she had sounded casual, but that was unlikely considering she was panting and her cheeks were bright red.

But who cared about that when she was on the verge of making jazz history?

Giveaway to Win a Paperback copy of Dashiki by Florence Wetzel (Open to UK / US / Canada only)

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