Amy Corwin

Silence is Concurrence

Silence is ConcurrencePublication Date: Oct 2011

A Southern ghost short story

Amy Corwin, Author

A short, traditional ghost story, Silence is Concurrence, has just been released in time for the holidays!

Collecting material for a book of ghost stories, Kate travels to North Carolina's beautiful Outer Banks to hear an eyewitness account of a haunting. She has a few difficulties finding the house, but eventually she meets Mrs. Corley and listens in growing dread to her tale of terror.

And although she doesn't realize it, Kate may find more material than she knows what to do with.

Buy Links 

Amazon (Kindle)


In this excerpt, Charles Vance, the Earl of Castlemoor, has gone to Second Sons Inquiry Agency to find out why his uncle has decided to hire an inquiry agent. Mr. Gaunt, the head of the agency, is an old friend of Charles's uncle, Sir Edward. But when Charles realizes that his uncle may be accused of murder, he decides not to leave it in the hands of an inquiry agent, friend or not.

Mr. Gaunt hastily picked up the spray before the cane destroyed it. “Perhaps we ought to discuss your uncle’s concerns. He brought this, along with a note—”

“She’s dead, Charles!” The words burst from Sir Edward’s throat, raw and hard. He clenched his jaw and swallowed, once, twice, as he repeatedly hit the side of Mr. Gaunt’s desk with his cane. After several minutes, he mastered himself enough to grind out, “Lady Banks. Dead.”

Charles stared at his uncle in disbelief. Sir Edward’s closest friend—mistress according to some accounts—dead? She was only thirty, barely three years older than Charles. No wonder his uncle’s valet was frantic with worry. “How—what happened?”

“Murdered, God’s teeth! And the bastard sent those bloody flowers—taunting me…” He choked again and stared down at his trembling hands, clenched over the brass knob of his walking stick. Bowing his head, he rhythmically tapped the cane against the floor with a soft, controlled beat that was, in its way, far more frightening than his previous flailing. The sound carried such a deep sense of grief that Charles glanced away, unable to watch.

“I’m sorry,” he said at last through a tight throat. His gaze shifted from his uncle’s bowed head to the spray of flowers. He’d never known Lady Banks, but anger filled him as he watched his uncle wrestle with the pain. How could anyone murder a woman? It was unthinkable. “What did the note say?”

Mr. Gaunt handed him a calling card. There was no name engraved on it. However, the small white square displayed an arrogant scrawl of thick black script reading, “Roses die quickly when cut.”

“That was the first one,” Mr. Gaunt said.

“The first?” Charles glanced up from the card.

“Some bloody-minded bastard sent it to her Sunday morning. Along with a cluster of those damn yellow flowers,” Sir Edward interrupted in a harsh voice. His face crumpled. Raising a shaking hand, he covered his eyes as if the pressure of his palm could hold back the anguished tears. “She thought…thought I sent them to her, for God’s sake. She laughed when I tried to tell her otherwise.”

Charles rose to stand behind his uncle’s chair and grip his trembling shoulder. As Sir Edward fought for control, Charles caught Mr. Gaunt’s dark, sympathetic gaze. “What happened?”

“Shot. The local constable thought it was an accident. Some poacher hoping to bag a rabbit for Sunday supper. At first. But…” Sir Edward’s voice drifted away, strangled by grief.

“But there was the note.” Charles studied the note. A small, useless bit of paper filled with deep, threatening taunts. “And undoubtedly, the servants heard Lady Banks tease you about sending her the flowers. So they assumed you sent them.”

Gaunt held up another small card between his long fingers. “And not just the one. A second note was delivered with another spray of these same yellow flowers.” His mouth tightened briefly. “Clearly intended to mock Sir Edward—or whoever read it.” He read the second card aloud. “The rose speaks for the doomed.”


Want to read more?

Here is the entire first chapter - Enjoy!


Amy's Newsletter Signup

Follow Me on Bookbub
Amy Corwin's Blog


Amy Corwin

Mystery Writers of America Member