In 1855, even though I was still the unknown “Louy” Alcott, I had started to reap some of the rewards of my labors. Under a pen name, I had sold a couple of my “blood and thunder” romance stories and a collection of children’s fables, but Little Women was just the germ of an idea. I wish I could have said that much for murder…
After a bleak winter in Boston investigating the murder of a close friend, I was badly in need of wholesome air and sunshine. To that end, my family—mother Abba, father Bronson, and my sisters, Lizzie, May, and Anna, and I— visited our cousins in Walpole, New Hampshire. But as soon as we arrived in the peaceful hamlet, we were confronted with tragedy: the death of Ernst Nooteboom, who purportedly fell into a ravine while hiking.
While his sister pointed her finger at the grocery store owner who coveted Ernst’s land, I found no lack of other suspects with sinister motives. Despairing of the death of such a young man, I resolved to bring Ernst’s murderer to justice. —Louisa May Alcott
In desperate need of some wholesome air and sunshine, Louisa and her family visit their relatives in Walpole, New Hampshire. But when their peace is shattered by the death of a young Dutchman who purportedly fell into a ravine while hiking, Louisa investigates the suspicious circumstances to bring a murderer to justice.