Author Interview & #Giveaway: The Long Shadow of Murder (Will Rees/Shaker Series) by Eleanor Kuhns

Archaeolibrarian
Oct 6
11 min read

Book Details:

Published by: Indie

Publication Date: May 15, 2025

Number of Pages: 292

ISBN: 979-8312662825

Series: Will Rees/Shaker Series, #12

@writerkuhns @partnersincrimevbt

@edl0829 @partnersincrimevbt

#Historical, #Murder, #Mystery,

When the body of a visitor is found in the woods by the local Shaker community, suspicion immediately falls on them. Rees is reluctant to believe anyone in this peaceful community committed murder. And Hans Bergin arrived with his wife, his brother-in-law and sister-in-law. They had their own reasons to want Bergin dead.

But as Rees investigates, he discovers everyone, including a recent Shaker convert, have secrets of their own, some stretching all the way back to the Revolutionary War.

Who, among the many suspects, decided to take matters in their own hands? Bergin's wife and other family? The new Shaker? Or someone else entirely?

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Constable Rouge and Will Rees rode south on Surry Road, past the Shaker community, until they reached the entrance at the southern end. They pulled into the small clearing and Rees parked his wagon. When he had first gone to town for supplies, Lydia needed both flour and sugar, he had not intended to join the constable in his search for a missing man. But, hearing of the disappearance, Rees’s curiosity had driven him into joining Rouge in the search.

“I still think we should have questioned the Shakers first,” Rouge said critically as he dismounted and tied his bay to a nearby tree. “On Sunday, Mr. Bergin told his wife he was going to Zion. He might still be there.”

“Was he planning to join the Shakers?”

“No,” Rouge said with a grin. “Hardly. He came to Durham because he heard that the Shakers danced naked, and he wanted to see the ‘fair white forms’ of the women.” Rees could hear the quotation.

“Huh,” Rees said. Although aware of the scurrilous slander concerning the Shakers, he could not understand why anyone would be foolish enough to believe it. The Shakers were a modest, quiet and industrious people. “The gullibility of men constantly amazes me.”

“You should hear what I hear at the tavern,” Rouge muttered.

“Besides,” Rees continued, ignoring the constable’s aside, “if there had been a problem at the Shaker community, wouldn’t someone inform you?” Rouge shook his head. After a moment, Rees reluctantly nodded in agreement. Maybe not. The community was notoriously insular and tried to handle any issues themselves. During the smallpox epidemic last year, the one that had sickened Rouge and left him severely scarred, they had refused all offers of assistance.

“We may have to speak to them,” Rees agreed. He was not enthusiastic. Elder Jonathan was beginning to display some irritability towards Rees and his frequent requests for help. “Since you were told by Mr. Bergin’s friend that he rode this way, I suggest we begin our search here, in these woods. Maybe his horse threw him. Or,” he added, looking at the muddy track across the road, “he might have taken the lane across the street back into town?”

Rouge shook his head. “Mr. Bergin did not return to town. I’m certain of that. We looked.”

“It’s unlikely he disappeared on that path,” Rees said. It was just past midday, and the sun felt warm on his shoulders and face. They were at the end of April. Although snow from the last storm still lingered on the shadowed down – slopes of the hills and under the trees, he could see bright spring green beginning to fringe the trees. “Farms line both sides of that little road and all the farmers will be out in the fields now, beginning the spring planting. If something happened to Mr. Bergin, and his body was dumped there, most likely someone would have seen it. He disappeared during the day, yes?” At Rouge’s nod, Rees paused a moment, thinking. “Did his horse return?”

“No. That’s gone too. Of course,” Rouge added cynically, “Mr. Bergin might have

continued riding south, hoping to find a new life. His disappearance does not mean he was murdered.”

“Someone was here,” Rees said, pointing to a relatively fresh pile of horse dung. “And recently too.”

“So, Mr. Bergin stopped here,” Rouge said. “Close to Zion.”

“It wasn’t necessarily Mr. Bergin. It could be another visitor.” Rees hoped that was so but feared the constable was correct. It was still too early in the spring for many visitors.

Rees squatted to examine the soft slick mud underfoot. Although his wagon wheels had cut across the older tracks, he could see the horseshoe shaped indentations left by a shod horse. “Whoever rode in here,” he said, pointing out the marks to Rouge, “he tied up over there. See?” He pointed to a tree. “There are boot prints where the rider dismounted.” Rouge crossed the dirt and stared down at the impressions.

“Look at the toes,” he said. “Riding boots.”

“Yes. And here are the nicks left by the spurs,” Rees agreed, pointing. “Did Mr. Bergin wear riding boots? Could they be his prints?”

Grimacing, Rouge nodded.

“You were right.” Rees looked at Rouge. “Mr. Bergin went into Zion.” Rees followed the tracks to the bridge that went to Zion’s main street. When he crossed the bridge, he saw the same footprints on the other side. But, a few yards in, the riding boots were met by farmer’s boots. The riding boots turned around and returned to the other side of the bridge. “One of the Shaker Brothers prevented him from entering the village,” he said.

“He walked back out to the road.” Rouge said. “Here are the marks of those boots

here.”

Taking care to avoid the boot impressions, Rees jumped across the soft earth. He misjudged his landing, and his right foot went into a deep puddle. Cold muddy water began seeping into his shoe. Rouge laughed.

“It’s not funny,” Rees said, lifting his foot to shake it. Water flew in all directions.

“Hey,” Rouge complained, jumping back.

“Serves you right,” Rees muttered but without malice. He was too focused now on following the tracks.

The riding boots went to the road where they were joined by another pair of shoes. The soil on the edge of the road was drier, more solid, so the imprint was shallow and harder to see. “I think these are ordinary shoes,” he muttered to himself. “Do you see any signs of another horse?” he called out to Rouge.

“No,” the constable replied, adding sourly, “But I am not the great tracker you are.”

“He met someone who walked here,” Rees said.

“One of the Shaker Brothers, then,” Rouge said with the air of a man who has solved the problem.

“Perhaps not,” Rees said. He was well used to Rouge’s propensity for jumping to the easiest and most obvious solution. “The second fellow could have tied up in the lane and then walked across the street to meet him here. Or,” he added quickly to forestall Rouge’s objection, “he could have even walked down the lane.” Rouge eyed Rees for a few seconds and then nodded.

“Yes, all right. He could have seen Mr. Bergin from the lane,” he agreed. “It would have

taken no time at all to cross Surry Road from town. But then where did they go?”

Rees did not reply. Instead, he began following the tracks made by the riding boots south along the Surry Road and away from Zion. From the impressions, it seemed the man was walking slowly. Not running, not afraid, just ambling along. Every now and then, Rees spotted a footprint or two produced by the other boots. It seemed the two men were talking as they followed the road.

He found the spot where the two people paused. But when he walked further down the road, he discovered he had lost the trail. There were no discernible footprints. He turned and walked back to the last spot he had seen them. This time, when he looked around, he saw scuff marks through the leaves descending the slope into the forest.

“Here,” said Rouge, pointing to a downed tree several yards in. Muttering under his breath, Rees followed the constable further into the woods. Rouge’s path had obscured the marks left by the two men. But when Rees fought his way through the brambles and the stand of small fir trees, he saw why Rouge had summoned him. Right in front of the downed tree was a mess of overturned leaves, where the feet of the two men had disturbed them.

“They sat down to talk,” Rees said, staring at the disordered leaves on the ground. He was beginning to believe these two men had nothing to do with Mr. Bergin’s disappearance and that this entire search had been a waste of time. The absence of the horse also made him wonder if Rouge was correct and Mr. Bergin had simply chosen to disappear. Rees was disappointed. Without really articulating his desire to himself, he had been hoping for something more serious. After several months spent inside at home, he was ready for some excitement. With a sigh, he examined the disturbance in the leaves. It looked as though one of

the men had risen to his feet and begun pacing.

But, as he neared the thicket, he smelled the barest whiff of the coppery rotten smell of old blood. The odor was so faint he wondered if he’d imagined it. Pausing, he lifted his face and took a deep inhalation into his nose.

“What are you doing?” Rouge asked, staring at Rees in fascination.

Rees threw him a glance but did not reply. Instead, he plunged forward, following the disturbances in the pad of last year’s leaves. Although the oaks and maples were just beginning to show the first bright green new leaves and the sun shone through the bare branches, the tall pines kept the ground below in shadow. Rees tracked the trail around tree trunks and through slick muddy patches. But he was halted by a large expanse of flat granite. He could not tell which way the trail went: straight down the slope or to one side or another.

As he stared at the rock in consternation, Rouge toiled up behind him, puffing. “Why have you stopped?” he asked, panting for breath.

“Not sure which way to go,” Rees admitted. Nodding, Rouge joined Rees on the rock slab and for a moment they were silent.

“Wait,” Rouge said, holding up a hand. “Listen. Do you hear it? A horse.”

For a moment Rees listened. Yes, he heard the faint whickering of a horse. The sound came from below them, but he couldn’t tell exactly in what direction. Rouge started forward, moving so quickly on the muddy and leaf strewn slope that he fell. “Damn,” he grumbled, staggering to his feet and continuing down the hill.

Rees glanced at the steep gully, the bottom slick with trickling snow melt, and turned to the bare rock. He started across the granite, angling down the slope toward the distant creek. The rock was not uniformly flat. As Rees clambered over a ledge, stepping down to the slab below, he saw streaks across the gray. Dark brown streaks. Rees knelt beside them and lightly touched the stain. Blood.

Can you tell us a little about yourself?

I am a lifelong librarian who always wanted to be a professional writer. I have to say that librarianship turned out to be a perfect job for me.

I have kids, foster kids, step kids, and now grandchildren but writing has always been a constant.

What do you do when you’re not writing?

I am an avid hiker, gardener and quilter. During the winter, when hiking is less appealing, I am at the gym five days out of seven.

Do you have a day job as well?

I do, but with much reduced hours. I’m still at the Goshen Public Library.

What was your favourite book as a child?

The Last Planet by Andre Norton. I was, and remain, a huge Science Fiction/ Fantasy fan.

When was that point in your life that you realized that being an author was no longer going to be just a dream but a career you were going to turn into reality?

I’d sold a few science fiction short stories but couldn’t crack the novel market. Since I loved mysteries, which I inhaled by the boatload, I decided to change genres. I sent my first to the Minotaur/Mystery Writers of America contest, and I won. That’s when I knew.

What book do you wish you had written?

The Doomsday Book by Connie Willis.

When did you start writing and when did you finish your first book?

I wrote my first book when I was ten. It was science fiction and every paragraph began with ‘suddenly’, as in suddenly the aliens came over the hill.

Where do you get your ideas?

This is a tough question. In the beginning, when I was constructing the Will Rees/Shaker books, I knew I wanted to use a traveling weaver. (I have a loom.) A visit to the lone Shaker community in Maine, gave me the setting. The story grew from there.

Do you ever experience writer’s block?

Never. My problem is always time.

Are you a planner or a pantser?

Definitely a pantser. My characters have a lot of say in how the story progresses.

Is there any particular author or book that influenced you in any way either growing up or as an adult?

Love both Anne Perry and Barbara Hambly. They are so good at characters and setting.

Have you written a book you love that you have not been able to get published?

I have the third Bronze Age Crete that I would love to publish. I may self-publish this one.

How do you market your work? What avenues have you found to work best for your Genre?

I’ve tried Amazon Ads, Fresh Fiction, Bookbub - just about everything you can imagine. I think what works the best is the in-person event. I usually do well with them.

How did you come up with the title?

Part of the story of Long Shadow deals with PTSD. There are several different forms of PTSD in the story, including Will Rees’s own memories of his time in the Continental Army. Bad experiences can cast a shadow over a person’s future for years to come; both Ephraim and Esther are examples of that.

What is your least favourite part of the writing or publishing process?

Definitely marketing. It has to be done, so I do it. I enjoy the in-person events but struggle with the rest of marketing.

Eleanor Kuhns is the 2011 winner of the Minotaur/Mystery Writers of America first novel prize for A Simple Murder. The Long Shadow of Murder is the twelfth in that series. She also has written a Bronze Age Crete series.

A lifelong librarian, she transitioned to full time writing at the start of the pandemic. She lives in upstate New York with her husband and her dog.

Catch Up With Eleanor Kuhns:

www.Eleanor-Kuhns.com

Amazon Author Profile

Goodreads

BookBub - @eleanorkuhns

Instagram - @edl0829

Facebook - @writerkuhns