"Newly re-imagined versions of Mr. Pickwick, Miss Havisham, Scrooge, and other familiar characters from the novels of Charles Dickens enliven the eleven stories in this anthology. One of the most memorable pieces was Lillian Stewart Carl's tale of an adult Tiny Tim playing sleuth to track down the identities of Scrooge's three Christmas."--Book Loons

"In Lillian Stewart Carl's 'A Stake of Holly,' Tiny Tim, now called Tim, visits Scrooge on his deathbed. There Scrooge asks Tim to solve a mystery that has bothered Scrooge. Since ghosts are the spirits of those trapped here on earth, who were the Ghosts of Christmas Past, Present and Yet To Come? In Death by Dickens, readers will find eleven stories that cover the realm of Dickens' characters and tales. The writing is incredible, and I think a must read for anyone who enjoys a good mystery and some vivid gery."--Roundtable Reviews

"For anyone who enjoys Dickens, the anthology Death by Dickens is truly a treasure trove. Fans of historical mysteries, and short mystery fiction would be well advised to pick up this volume. There's something here for everyone. The characters are used in intelligent ways; situations are created that clearly lead up to some of literature's greatest works; and, more surprisingly, there are some stories here that serve as the perfect codas to some of Dickens' best-known works. Lillian Stewart Carl's story takes place long after the ending of 'A Christmas Carol,' yet maintains the feel and character of the original."--The Romance Reader's Connection

"'A Stake of Holly' ... takes us many years ahead, to the conclusion Dickens did not write, but I think we all like to imagine, and it has a dark and satisfying mystery very cleverly woven into the book. Many loose threads are tied up, unfinished storylines explained and dealt with. In many ways it is a companion volume to 'A Christmas Carol.'"--Anne Perry, From the Introduction

Jacob Marley had been dead as a doornail, to begin with, and soon Ebeneezer Scrooge would no longer be debating just why a doornail, rather than a coffin nail, was considered a fatal bit of ironmongery.

Tim Cratchit bent over his benefactor's bed--it was his deathbed, but Tim was not yet ready to admit to that awful fact--Tim bent over Scrooge's wasted features and said, "You sent for me, sir?"

Scrooge's eyes fluttered open, and took a long moment to focus, as though they were already inspecting the new world to which they were bound. Then they lit with a pleasure that plumped the deep furrows in his face and tinged its ashen color with pink. "Tim, my lad. Always a good lad, aren't you?"

"Thanks to you, sir." The young man pulled a chair, lately abandoned by the nurse, closer to the bed and sat down. "Your generosity to my family these nineteen years..."

Laboriously Scrooge waved his hand in the air and let it fall back to the counterpane. It made a thump no louder than that of thistledown. "What right have I to demand thanks for going about my business as a steward of mankind and fulfilling my responsibility to my neighbor?"

"Still," Tim insisted, "I owe you not only my health and my education, but my position with Lord Ector."

"No, no, no, pass your gratitude on to someone else. Teach your children.... But I assume you will be blessed with offspring, even though you as yet have no prospects?"

Tim ducked his handsome features shyly. "I shall find a wife, never you fear, Mr. Scrooge. I don't spend all my time cataloguing Ector's collections."

"No, you spend your spare hours scribbling stories."

"Only the occasional tale for The London Illustrated News and the like."

"And fine tales they are, Tim. Take care, though, not to neglect the finer sentiments." The old man wheezed a moment, then coughed. "I was once engaged to be married, Tim."