pretty little island
by Dennis Scharnberg
It was one of those old-fashioned beer steins—ceramic with a pewter cap. Sheila could tell that there was something inside, something hard that rattled a bit when she grabbed the handle. But what was it? And who put it in there? All of a sudden Sheila Giddings knew something. Knew one particular thing. That she did not want to lift the cap and look inside that dusty old mug.
Leslie M. Dow, The Murder in the Meadow.