Sleuth Shades. Door Blinds Inside. How To Make A Faux Roman Shade.
- A detective
- a detective who follows a trail
- spy: watch, observe, or inquire secretly
- (sleuthing) detection: a police investigation to determine the perpetrator; "detection is hard on the feet"
- sunglasses: spectacles that are darkened or polarized to protect the eyes from the glare of the sun; "he was wearing a pair of mirrored shades"
- (shade) relative darkness caused by light rays being intercepted by an opaque body; "it is much cooler in the shade"; "there's too much shadiness to take good photographs"
- (shade) shadow: cast a shadow over
- Screen from direct light
- Cover, moderate, or exclude the light of
- Darken or color (an illustration or diagram) with parallel pencil lines or a block of color
sleuth shades - A Darker
A Darker Shade Of Crimson (Ivy League Mysteries)
Being young, gifted, and black at Harvard has never been easy. For Ella Fisher, outspoken and controversial Dean of Students at Harvard Law School, it was murder.
After Nikki Chase -- a smart, ambitious, attractive black economics professor -- stumbles over her friend Ella's body during a blackout in a classroom building, she finds herself plunged into the investigation of her death. In the process she uncovers some of Harvard's most deeply buried secrets.
Nikki learns that plenty of people could have wanted Ella dead. There's the debonair -- and married -- new Harvard president Leo Barrett. Many thought Leo and Ella were lovers, and now he's looking awfully guilty. The Chairman of the Economics Department suddenly, suspiciously, has a lot of money. And Ella's radical, Afrocentric ex-husband had apparently been blackmailing her.
With the help of Ella's two true friends, Nikki sets out to unravel the mystery -- and the complications of her own love life. Proving that love can be murder, she drives toward the shocking conclusion that will turn all of Harvard on its ear.
In her debut outing as a mystery novelist, Pamela Thomas-Graham introduces the world to a delightful and exciting amateur female detective, Nikki Chase. At 30, Nikki has already eschewed a career on Wall Street to become a professor of economics at Harvard, her alma mater. She is brilliant, beautiful, ambitious, and black--a characteristic Thomas-Graham makes clear from the get-go. "Being young and black at Harvard requires advanced survival skills," she writes. "Seven generations of us have found it exhilarating, perplexing, difficult, and dangerous. For Rosezella Maynette Fisher, it was murder."
When Rosezella, Harvard's most powerful black woman and Nikki's good friend, dies mysteriously on the eve of a new school year, Nikki finds herself compelled to track down all the clues leading to the killer. A cast of richly drawn and complex characters helps and hinders her quest. For advice, she turns occasionally to Raphael Griffin, a cop who has traded the bougainvillea of the British Virgin Islands for the ivy of Harvard Yard. For moral support, she turns to Maggie Daily, a teacher, landlady, and poet whose rich stories and rolling tones provide the book with texture, history, and charm. Like any other good woman detective, Nikki has a love life as perplexing as the mystery to be solved. Her long-lost ex-boyfriend, Dante Rosario, returns to town, bringing with him more sizzle and spark than Nikki is prepared to handle.
Though it's not as dark and creepy as Paullina Simons's 1996 campus-based mysteryThe Red Leaves, A Darker Shade of Crimson captures all the power, tradition, and atmosphere of the Ivy League campus. And while Thomas-Graham does explore the social and political issues surrounding race at Harvard, she manages to avoid the pitfalls of turning a well-crafted mystery into a polemic. --L.A. Smith
Interview Part 2: Growing Up
My childhood was not normal by any stretch of ones imagination. Being the child of a detective, I went far out of my way to be a young Holmes. Let's just say trouble is horrifically easy to encounter when one seeks it out. Add in seeing my father shot and killed, and the never-ending tension between my older brother and myself, and my childhood left a lot to be desired. The earliest memory I have is seeing all faces light up in a small, crowded room, as my father outlined the details of a murder. It was at that moment that I knew I wanted to be a detective, that I wanted to enlighten others in such a way. My mother taught me to read when I was still very young, and I had stumbled through some Sherlock Holmes stories, but it wasn't until after my decision as a young child to become a detective that I read through and fully comprehended them. Anything I failed to understand, I would inquire about, read about, research about. So many long days I spent in the library. When it came time for schooling, my parents sent me off to a public school, a place I quickly came to dread. I started right into the first grade, and had already learned everything taught there. At age seven, I learned to skip out on school and sneak off to the library to actually learn and at my own quick pace. With my father off on cases often, it fell onto my mother to punish me, but somehow she knew I was going to be held back if she forced me back into the classroom. Instead, she arranged for me to be homeschooled--a feat in itself, as homeschooling was illegal at the time. Rather than homeschooling me, however, she allowed me to learn on my own, then fill her in on what I had studied. In my earlier teen years, I'd passed the GED. I'd been working part-time jobs, but had failed to find anything that held my interest. When I reached age 16, I decided to try out college, but that turned out to be a dead-end of slow-learning, and I eventually dropped out of all classes there. I didn't leave the campus in the same position I had went in, however, as I'd met some people who'd put a good word in for me when there was a case somewhere to be solved, and that allowed me to begin my own detective business. Following the methods of Sherlock Holmes, my sleuth skills quickly proved to be more than acceptable. I could earn enough of an income to survive comfortably, and I had enough time in my days to continue my learnings. It's perhaps without question that Sherlock Holmes existed as my sole role model. No other detective could compare, and with detectives such as Father Brown out there, there was really no competition. Had my father's life not ended when it did, I may have come to see him as a role model, but with him away on cases all the time, it was Holmes whom I saw in action. It was Holmes, studying past crimes, researching chemicals, applying his vast knowledges to the tiniest of clue, and traveling from one lead to the next. Looking back on my father, we were never what you could call "close". He gave me his collection of Sherlock Holmes stories after I'd read the simpler books in the house, and wanted something more complex to read. Beyond that, he was mostly just there--except for more often than not when he wasn't. He felt more like that uncle who visits now and then, but has no real closeness to the family. On the other side, my mother was always protective and supportive of me. These two were often mutually exclusive, and it had to be hard on her. She probably would never have let me read those Sherlock Holmes stories had she known about the murders within them. And then my older brother, Michael... It's best to say that we never got along, and to leave it at that. My grandparents are faint memories. My grandfather on my father's side would visit from time to time, and tell me and Michael fantastic stories. My grandparents on my mother's side visited a few times a year, bringing gifts for me and Michael, random toys showing they knew nothing about either of us as individuals. When not learning in the library, I could often be found looking for cases as a child. I tried to be as much like Sherlock Holmes in the way I talked to adults and older kids when outside the home, but I was more of a bright-eyed child when in the home. The former overtook the latter by my teen years. This lead to peers looking at me as a pompous, egotistical teen. While they sought dinner dates with the girls in their classes, I sought mysteries and their answers. They looked for short-term gains, and I looked for information that would continuously assist me in life. Save for one person, I wouldn't have anything even remotely close to what might be considered a "friend" until my college days, and those are more along the lines of acquaintances, to be accurate. As for that one person, she moved before my college days, leaving me with her first kiss and mine.
Novelty & Art Yarn Spinning Challenge Swap
This is what I received from woolthing for the Spinning Challenge Swap in the Novelty & Art Yarn Spinners group on Ravelry. We each sent the following to another swapper: * 3 words * one picture * 5 ingredients to be incorporated into their yarn The idea is to challenge the other spinner to use all the elements in an art yarn, and Janet/woolthing NAILED it for me! I'm in love with this color combo (which is surprisingly similar to the color scheme I sent to my swappee, Ghostknitter). The batts are very soft Romney/Rambouillet, and the bags contain Lincoln locks (top) and silk hankies (bottom). Wow! Plus there's 2 kinds of blue beads, orange bugle beads, and clear round seed beads, as well as 3 shades of rayon embroidery thread. The photo is a 'watery' old-world building on what looks like a European street, and my words are 'rain-spattered', 'dreams', and 'bicycle'. The words are inspiring and spot-on; I don't remember mentioning it on my blog recently, so Janet must've done some sleuthing *inside my head* to suss out that I've been dreaming about returning to my cycle-touring roots with my new hubby. Kudos, Woolthing! (And check out the next photo in my photostream: it's the *extra* stuff she sent as a wedding gift!) Thank you, Janet, I'm excited about spinning these up!
LaShaun Rousselle returns home to Beau Chene, Louisiana, and all hell breaks loose. Ten years ago LaShaun left for Los Angeles to get away from a scandalous past, which included being a suspect in a vicious killing. With whispers about voodoo and how she got away with murder, LaShaun decides to wipe the slate clean and start a new life. She leaves behind the Rousselle family legacy, and her infamous grandmother, Odette, who taught LaShaun too well how to use her psychic powers. Now LaShaun is back in Beau Chene. Monmon Odette is dying, and LaShaun comes home to make peace with her grandmother and the past. She has to fight off greedy relatives out to get Monmon Odette’s considerable estate, hostile town folk, and a nasty little demon determined to rule her world. She faces down all challengers with help from sexy deputy Chase Broussard, who puts his reputation on the line because he knows she’s not a murderer.