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Today on Salty Inspirations, I’m featuring author Maggie Toussaint and her book Mancini Blue: An Art Studio Mystery. Maggie has brought along a special character guest post from Chief Darlene Smiley. You’ll also find an excerpt from the book below, so be sure to take a look!
Tough on Crime
By Chief Darlene Smiley of MANCINI BLUE
My life has been influenced by songs. First came “It’s a Man’s World.” If you’ve ever been on a police force, you’ll know this was true. It was a guy’s club all the way, and I had to work hard to gain their respect, unlike the men who seemed to intuitively know the right handshake.
Then I got the deserved appreciation, finally, and it was all I could do to not bust out in “I am Woman Hear Me Roar.” One of the former worst officers at harassing me began to court me. I didn’t play hard to get so much as I just didn’t trust this guy. But, dreamy moonlight kisses, flower bouquets, and gifts of new running shoes, and I was all in. Not saying I could be bought, but this guy, Rick Smiley, invested in me.
I wanted it all, a home life and a satisfying career. We tied the knot, both made detective, and he started pressuring me to have kids. Something told me he was too intense about it, and I balked. I wanted kids, sure, but in my own time, you know?
Anyway, time marched on. I got promoted and he didn’t. He said he was doing undercover work. Turned out he was under the covers doing someone else, every night, and not that good at covering his tracks. It felt like I’d been torn in half, certainly my pride had and I didn’t think much of the “Jolene” who took my man. She could have him.
When I dumped him, he did a number on my self-esteem, berating me with my deepest insecurities, which I’d shared with him during the two years of our marriage. His buddies took up the refrain and the boss intervened, which, of course, made it worse.
So, I got detailed on special assignment for a while, Rick and his cronies went to sensitivity training. None of it took. I didn’t understand at the time but the chief was going through all the steps to fire them and they walked right into that buzz saw on their own. They got canned, and they spent the rest of their lives writing letters to the editors about the injustice of it all. They claimed I was “soft on crime,” and a guy reporter took up the refrain.
I came back to Brynn County and got paired with a guy who was a legend in the department, a guy who wouldn’t dream of harassing me. Everything was going great until it turned out that Buster Leavas, my partner with the unblemished record, was dirty. I couldn’t catch a break. The chief called me in, said it would screw up Buster’s retirement if all the things came out that he had done. He had a critically ill mother and five children he was supporting.
If I played “ball,” the chief promised he’d push me forward as the most promising candidate for his job when he retired in six months. Decisions, decisions. I’d gotten screwed right and left in this career, but three generations of my family had been cops. I asked for a night to think it over.
What would my dad have done? He’d been gung-ho all his life, had always supported the Blue Line. I was dedicated to serve and protect, same as he was. But it felt like my career path was strewn with heartache and self-doubt. Dad would’ve shrugged that stuff off. It wasn’t that easy for me. Everyone thought that since I was Barbie doll pretty that I didn’t have a clue what was going on most of the time.
I was clued in all right. At least if I became Chief, I could better control my naysayers. So, I told the chief I’d keep quiet about Buster. Felt like I lost a bit of my soul to bend like that, but that’s life.
Only when I won the election to chief, Rick and his former cop buddies bent the ear of the reporter, insisting I’d slept my way to the top. Weeks went by when I was in the paper being ragged on and just this side of slandered. I endured, and my policies were implemented. We now had a kinder, gentler office environment, but we stayed tough on crime.
Now trouble moved into my territory in the form of Bob Calloway, a transplant from Savannah. I rode over the island, found him, and laid down the law. This was my county, by God, and I wasn’t tolerating any of his shenanigans. He was not amused, but he was too much of a gentleman to complain.
He was also handsome as could be, and I had to stay tough so that I didn’t smile at him or play with my hair. After all, I have a tough-on-crime reputation to uphold.
Mancini Blue: An Art Studio Mystery by Maggie ToussaintAbout Mancini Blue
Mancini Blue: An Art Studio Mystery
Paranormal Cozy Mystery
1st in Series
Setting – Fictional Island (St. James Island) off the Georgia coast in the USA.
Publisher : Muddle House Publishing
Publication date : October 13, 2026
Digital
ASIN : B0HCHW5JGT
Paperback Info To Come
After his wife, famous artist Sophie Mancini, allegedly commits suicide in Savannah, wealthy financial advisor Robert Calloway makes a fresh start on St James Island. To honor Sophie, Bob creates the Island Art Gallery. He lives above the shop with his niece, her ten-year-old daughter, and Sophie’s cairn terrier. He is certain the cops got his wife’s means of death wrong. When he left her in the studio that fateful evening to paint overnight, her door locked behind him. She wouldn’t unlock her door for a stranger. To get justice for Sophie, Bob delves into her murder using his hidden ability to help find solid evidence. When he unsuccessfully searches his old Savannah haunts for leads, he returns to St. James to discover a bizarre murder occurred near his shop. Despite his alibi, he is questioned by the local cops. He’s stunned when many aspects of this new case are identical to Sophie’s death. Thus, solving his wife’s murder will most likely shed light on the recent case. Bob’s suspect list includes family members, neighbors, friends, and Sophie’s art associates. He discovers people are rarely what they seem and believes this deadly foe kills to protect secrets. Can he identify his wife’s murderer before the killer strikes again?
About Maggie Toussaint
Southern author Maggie Toussaint writes cozy and paranormal mysteries under her name and a pen name of Valona Jones, romantic suspense, and dystopian fiction under the pen name of Rigel Carson, with thirty-one novels published. Her recent release, Mancini Blue is the first in An Art Studio Mystery. A multi-year finalist for Georgia Author of the Year, she’s won Silver Falchions, Readers’ Choice awards, and the EPIC Award. She’s a member of Mystery Writers of America-Southeast chapter and Sisters In Crime-Guppy chapter. She lives in coastal Georgia, where secrets, heritage, and ancient oaks cast long shadows. Visit her at https://maggietoussaint.com/
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October 14 – Romance Novel Giveaways – AUTHOR GUEST POST
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October 15 – Books1987 – SPOTLIGHT
October 15 – Carla Loves to Read – REVIEW, AUTHOR GUEST POST
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October 17 – Books, Ramblings, and Tea – SPOTLIGHT
October 18 – Boys’ Mom Reads! – CHARACTER GUEST POST
October 19 – Socrates Book Reviews – SPOTLIGHT
October 20 – Sarandipity’s – AUTHOR INTERVIEW
October 21 – Baroness Book Trove – REVIEW
October 22 – Sarcastically Yours, Jen – SPOTLIGHT
October 23 – FUONLYKNEW – SPOTLIGHT
October 24 – Sapphyria’s Book Reviews – SPOTLIGHT
October 24 – Escape With Dollycas Into A Good Book – SPOTLIGHT
October 25 – deal sharing aunt – AUTHOR INTERVIEW
Excerpt
“Dad! Looking good, looking good. I love your new digs.” Kevin Mancini Calloway strutted through the open doorway of The Island Art Studio, looking sun-kissed and vibrant.
The snug lavender polo shirt, form-fitted black pants, and trendy sandals Kevin wore were a familiar and welcome sight. Bob embraced his son with his heart in his throat. His son was so like his mother in looks and artistic talent. It felt good to hug him, to feel his vibrancy.
Kevin’s wavy, raven-black hair had been highlighted and shorn irregularly so that it no longer resembled his mother’s beautiful hair. His bleached eyebrows matched his striped hair. Bob gazed fondly at his son’s dark brown eyes, Sophie’s eyes and yet distinctly Kev’s too.
“So are you, son.” Bob shielded his senses against the erratic energy that accompanied his baby boy. The frantic currents worried him at first, until he realized they came from a different source than his mother’s clinical diagnosis. His youngest had new secrets and shame, but he denied both.
Kevin caught Gussie in a tickle fest. “How you doing, little minx?”
His niece dropped the dog’s leash and shrieked happily. Luke plodded over to the dog lift and waited until she scooted out of Kevin’s reach. “I’ve got to feed him before we go to dinner,” Gussie explained.
Kevin followed her to the lift, a makeshift sling of suede suspended on a swing arm powered by a motorized pulley system. She secured his terrier inside the sling and connected the top straps. Then she darted up the stairs to hoist the dog. His son shook his head and turned to face Bob. “That dog’s got it made.”
“Your brother told me to euthanize Luke because he can’t climb stairs.” Bob leaned against the checkout counter as Kevin admired the quaint seascapes in this front room of the shop. Cheery seaside watercolors sold by the hundreds to island vacationers.
Every piece in the two-month-old shop had been approved by Bob, from the darting sandpipers to the majestic lighthouses. He’d done the walls in a deep-sea green and matted the artwork in white frames. Track lighting provided illumination on featured works of art.
Best of all, the shop smelled like home. Like Sophie. He’d learned in therapy that the first year of grief was a throwaway. He’d not coped well, despite knowing that. But now, now he felt somewhat centered. And moving forward. Good things.
“This is divine.” Kevin tapped on the wormwood frame of A. Lyer’s latest effort and toured the rest of the room in a whirl of color. “Don’t mind Barry. He’s too caught up in the bottom line. Your dog isn’t a plus, so he’s a minus in Barry’s book.”
Was Bob a minus in his oldest son’s book? Barry had insisted Bob step down as CEO of Calloway Investments last year. When Bob complied, his son jumped into Bob’s CEO shoes.
Gussie’s mother, Angie Gilbert, strolled in from the back room with a handful of unframed prints and dumped them on the counter at the sight of her cousin. “Kev!”
Bob watched his family interact with paternal pride. Loving them had brought him back from the brink of chaos. Helping them provided the focus he so desperately needed.
Kevin spun Angie in tight circles until she couldn’t stop laughing. Her golden ponytail reminded Bob of a gilded feather atop a brightly colored kaleidoscope of turquoise and peach.
“Gracious, Kev,” Angie said with a giddy laugh. She grasped the counter for support after he put her down. “You’d think I hadn’t seen you in months or years. Are you that starved for affection?”
“Not hardly. I love to hear you laugh, Angie girl. Why don’t you ever come to Savannah to see me?”
Angie brushed stray tendrils of hair away from her flushed face. “Because I’m working full time at the Island Art Studio. And I have a kid to raise. A kid that goes to school.”
“That’s no excuse. If Dad won’t let you play hooky, you need a new boss. I could get you a job in Savannah.”
“Ah, but I doubt another job would pay as well as Uncle Bob pays me. Money is what I’m all about these days. Kid-sized combat boots don’t grow on trees. Behave yourself.” Angie stacked the art prints on the checkout counter and headed back to the stockroom.
“Ange, wait,” Kevin called, “I want to show you my new camera lens before I head home tonight.”
“Sure thing,” she answered from the stockroom.
His son nodded towards the other half of the shop. The half that radiated Mancini blue paint. The half that was the official Sophie Mancini art gallery. “You thought about putting my work in there, Dad?”
Ah.
A heaviness bowed Bob’s shoulders. The direct approach this time.
His son didn’t have the same fire in the belly that Sophie had for interpretive work. Which was why Bob wouldn’t display his son’s brilliant watercolors beside Sophie’s internationally acclaimed oils. “It would be a disservice to you to spend your life in your mother’s shadow. Your art is distinctly you and will triumph on its own merit.”
Kevin’s voice sharpened. “How do you know that will happen?”
“Thanks to Sophie, I have been immersed in the art world longer than you’ve been alive. I’m doing what I think is best. Your work is very good, but it’s stylistically different from your mother’s. Your work is welcome on the other side of my shop. Anytime.”
Kevin rammed his hands in his pockets. Miraculously the taut fabric didn’t rip. “You don’t want my career to take off.”
Here we go, Bob thought, recognizing the flash-and-burn of artistic temperament. Again, Kev and Sophie always insisted their way was the right way, the only way. When they were denied, they sulked and drank.
The evening went steadily downhill from there. Angie and Gussie begged off from dinner at the last minute, so Bob endured Kevin’s downward spiral alone in the nearby restaurant. After bouncing around like a grasshopper on speed, his youngest son transformed into a gloomy, despairing lump.
Bob understood the cycle. His talented wife had undergone similar mood shifts. He’d stood by her and gotten her help when she needed it. She’d been emotionally stable for six months. In retrospect, it was clear he’d missed something big. That he’d failed her.
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Thank you to Maggie Toussaint for stopping by Salty Inspirations and introducing readers to Chief Darlene Smiley from Mancini Blue: An Art Studio Mystery.
If this book sounds like one you’d enjoy, consider adding it to your to-be-read (TBR) list. You can find Maggie’s author links, book purchasing options, and the full tour schedule below.
While you’re here, take a look around Salty Inspirations for more guest authors, bookish discoveries, and cozy inspiration.
As always, thanks for stopping by for some Salty Inspirations! —Michelle❤️
