What do you think?
Rate this book
Cold Chill Of Coptos
Everyone believed it was an accident...everyone except Jan. "I want to find out who tried to kill me," she said.
At this there were cries of denial and shock from the others. Hester, reeling as though struck from a blow, exclaimed, "How extremely melodramatic of you, Jan. You must not, you cannot make such wild accusations. None of us would want to harm you. There has been an accident, and that is the end of the matter."
At this there were cries of denial and shock from the others. Hester, reeling as though struck from a blow, exclaimed, "How extremely melodramatic of you, Jan. You must not, you cannot make such wild accusations. None of us would want to harm you. There has been an accident, and that is the end of the matter."
- GenresGothic
Paperback
First published January 1, 1974
1 person is currently reading
7 people want to read
Ratings & Reviews
Friends & Following
Create a free account to discover what your friends think of this book!
Community Reviews
Displaying 1 of 1 review
June 18, 2020
When we first meet Janelle Sheridan, she is enjoying a few days of sun on the beach in Malibu, California.
By all accounts, it’s a reprieve for her, an escape from many things, but most of all a break from the people in her life. She’s at a place where she’s not really interested in seeing anyone.
She’s just stepped off the elevator to her penthouse suite, adjusting her swim robe as she opens the door. Her skin is browned from the sun and the day spent outside relaxed her. For the moment, she’s composed and satisfied.
She passes the reception table, noticing a telegram that must have been left by a porter,
“Come to Capos!”
In that moment it was as if the entire day’s relaxation never happened, her body tensed.
It was the demanding kind of summons her mother Hester would send.
A short time later, another porter knocks on her door, bearing yet another telegram,
“Where have you been? Have you forgotten the date? Telephone me the moment you get in!”
Janelle sighs, deciding to call her mother straightaway since there was no point in trying to put it off. Mother would persist until such time as she heard Janelle’s voice on the other end of the line.
Janelle shakes her head, then dials the number. Her mother is on the line after the first ring:
“Where have you been?”
“I’ve called and called…”
“Janelle, speak up, are you still there?”
“You should have told me you’d be away from the apartment. I have worried.”
A wry grin formed on Janelle’s lips; this steady stream of one-way chatter is what her mother would call a “conversation.” Her mother burbles on for awhile longer until she finally gets to the point of the call:
“Just come as fast as you can, its Carla’s birthday tomorrow you know, and it would break your poor cousin’s heart if you don’t celebrate your birthdays together.”
Carla, it turns out, is Janelle’s older cousin by one year. And contrary to what Janelle’s mother Hester says on the phone about her “poor cousin” Carla doesn’t fit into the persona of an unfortunate…in fact, it’s quite the opposite,
“She was tall, vivid and vivacious, and supremely self-confident. Her hair was almost as dark as Hester’s raven locks. Her eyes were blue, and her skin was like rich cream.”
Janelle stands by the phone table in her swimsuit, twirling the phone cord around her finger, already feeling herself being pulled toward Captos, like an invisible, but powerful rip tide dragging the swimmer away from shore, towards the danger of the open water. She’s annoyed with the general situation, not just because going to Captos would necessitate being under the same roof as her incessantly demanding mother, or not even that she would also be with Carla, their every moment together a confirmation of her mother’s favor of her cousin, no, there was a bigger annoyance awaiting Janelle in Captos.
Brian would be there with Carla. That was the really sore spot.
We are told that Brian Ward and Janelle were once a couple. Then one day Brian was introduced to Carla and after that, it was only a short time later that the two of them announced their engagement!
Janelle felt the frustration rise up in her, she’d always held firm that her cousin stole her man, and worse yet, she seemed to be the one person in the family who saw it that way. So, she locked those resentments deep inside herself. But going to Coptos to celebrate her cunning cousin’s birthday was the last thing she wanted to do, no matter how much her mother insisted it would be a lovely visit.
And as if all this were not bad enough, she had no interest in going to this remote, frightening place.
It was remote indeed she was told, a large rambling estate situated up in the highest reaches of the desert. Brian’s father, a plainspoken and rugged man had become a newly minted Texas based oil millionaire, quickly realizing that the society that his wealth jettisoned him into would not have this unrefined man. This was why he chose this out of the way place, to get away from the very society who was intent on reminding him that despite his wealth, he did not belong.
Janelle listened to her mother, realizing she’d have no idea how to get there anyway, that’s when her mother interjected, as if she were reading her mind,
“Go to LAX, Janelle. Right away. And take a plane to the Kern County Airport in Mojave. You will be met, then a charter will take you to the private landing area…”
Janelle looks out the window, checking out of the conversation with her mother as she already envisions being at Coptos. It was pointless to resist her mother’s demands. Janelle’s habit of obedience was too strong.
Hours later, she’s crammed into the rear jump seat of the air taxi, flying over the desert towards the secluded estate when she ponders the strange and tragic link, she and her cousin share. Janelle’s father, Will Sheridan, and Carla’s parents, Carl and Helen Martel, all perished in a severe avalanche in Switzerland. It was seventeen years ago, but the pain of the sudden and cruelly final loss still seared inside her. An anguish that the passage of time didn’t dull or dampen.
“There’s a great view of the main house from here,” the pilot announces, snapping Janelle from her reverie.
She looked out the window, the flatlands which lay below Captos seemed to stretch on forever in continuous desolation. Then the majestic house came into view:
“Stark white, long and low, and fronted with columns, the house stood on the rise of ground and was ringed on three sides by the varicolored mountains. There were green trees and shrubs near the house. There was a huge corralled fence with white rails with horses inside. An area of reflected blue sky indicated a pool or lake on the property.”
The pilot then spoke up again,
“Over that way – on Scorpion Flat – is a picturesque ghost town, but you can’t see it from here.”
They landed and Janelle finds herself standing before the great house of this grand oasis. She looked around, noting the vast expanses of rugged desert terrain that immediately took over at the end of the tree line.
As I read, I could feel the loneliness of the place, which matched perfectly with how alone Janelle felt as she arrived. This was a compelling opening, and what followed was a series of suspenseful and completely enthralling situations. It just so happened that I was reading this book during some very busy days at work and at home. I carried this book with me, picking it up each and every chance I got! It really was that good!
A comment on the cover art of this novel:
There are so many aspects of the “Gothic Romance” novels of the 1960’s and 1970’s that I’ve come to love. But there’s always been one think that confused me about these books, and that is the lack of acknowledgement, or credit of any kind given to the artists who adorn these covers with their gorgeous and spectacular paintings. This seems especially unfair, the cover, after all is the very first thing I notice about these books. For me, I must like the cover, and if I do, I then read the synopsis. It’s in that order, every time.
So, it is with that in mind that I will, in my own small way, attempt to correct this by honoring the artist who painted the cover of this book.
He was a man named Walter Popp, (1920 – 2002).
Popp was born on May 19, 1920 in New York City. His father was Gustave Gutgeman, (1860 – 1952), a German immigrant artist who had a significant career as a muralist and instructor of architectural detail at the Pratt Institute.
Walter’s unwed mother, Kathe Popp, raised him. She was born in 1880 in Austria and was trained as a professional cook. In 1909 she immigrated to the U.S. on the S.S. Amerika and settled in New York City. She found work as an artist in Gutgeman’s busy workshop, where decorative designs of flowers, birds and animals were created for stylish New York furniture companies.
In the early 1930’s Gutgeman’s wife died, after which he and Kathe Popp lived together in Carlstadt, New Jersey. Young Walter was then acknowledged as a stepchild of Gustave Gutgeman.
When Walter was in his high school years, he joined his mother in the shop, this is where he discovered his love of painting. After high school graduation, in 1938, his growing passion for art brought him to the New York Phoenix School of Design.
By 1940, Walter Popp was working as a commercial artist, selling freelance illustrations to pulp magazines. It was during this time that World War 2 broke out, causing him to enter the U.S. Army in 1942. He served in the Medical Corps as a TEC-5 in posting all over Europe.
After the war, he studied art and architecture at the Shriverham American University in England. In 1946 he returned to New York and attended the Art Student’s League where he met another art student named Marie Mulligan, a native New Yorker from Queens. They fell in love and married in 1947, soon moving to his parent’s home in Carlstadt, New Jersey.
It was in that home that they raised their nine children.
Walter then increased his freelance painting work, focusing on the pulp magazine market as he crafted magazine covers and interior illustrations for publications such as: “Amazing Stories”, “Fantastic Adventures”, “Fantastic Mysteries,” “Space Stories,” “Western Story Round-Up,” and many others.
In the 1950’s he began painting covers for paperback novels, which were produced by such publishers as: Ace Books, Flying Eagle Publications” and Popular Library.
Reviewer’s Note: Popp must have continued painting novel covers for quite some time, considering that “Cold Chill of Coptos” wasn’t published till 1974. When I consider the enticing allure of this particular cover, I can see why he continued working in this field for a long time.
During this time, as his reputation for artistic excellence became better known, Popp also began picking up requests for large format true crime and men’s adventure magazines.
By the mid 1960’s he began to do design for toy and sporting goods manufacturers. He also worked on the staff as a full-time employee of the Norcross Greeting Card Company on Madison Avenue in New York City.
In the 1980’s and 1990’s he and his wife, Marie Popp, collaborated on painting book covers for a new line of Gothic Romance novels. They also produced several editions of limited prints of romantic fantasy scenes for fine art galleries. These projects brought Walter Popp new acclaim in his twilight years.
Walter Popp died in Paramus, New Jersey at the age of eighty-two on November 10, 2002.
By all accounts, it’s a reprieve for her, an escape from many things, but most of all a break from the people in her life. She’s at a place where she’s not really interested in seeing anyone.
She’s just stepped off the elevator to her penthouse suite, adjusting her swim robe as she opens the door. Her skin is browned from the sun and the day spent outside relaxed her. For the moment, she’s composed and satisfied.
She passes the reception table, noticing a telegram that must have been left by a porter,
“Come to Capos!”
In that moment it was as if the entire day’s relaxation never happened, her body tensed.
It was the demanding kind of summons her mother Hester would send.
A short time later, another porter knocks on her door, bearing yet another telegram,
“Where have you been? Have you forgotten the date? Telephone me the moment you get in!”
Janelle sighs, deciding to call her mother straightaway since there was no point in trying to put it off. Mother would persist until such time as she heard Janelle’s voice on the other end of the line.
Janelle shakes her head, then dials the number. Her mother is on the line after the first ring:
“Where have you been?”
“I’ve called and called…”
“Janelle, speak up, are you still there?”
“You should have told me you’d be away from the apartment. I have worried.”
A wry grin formed on Janelle’s lips; this steady stream of one-way chatter is what her mother would call a “conversation.” Her mother burbles on for awhile longer until she finally gets to the point of the call:
“Just come as fast as you can, its Carla’s birthday tomorrow you know, and it would break your poor cousin’s heart if you don’t celebrate your birthdays together.”
Carla, it turns out, is Janelle’s older cousin by one year. And contrary to what Janelle’s mother Hester says on the phone about her “poor cousin” Carla doesn’t fit into the persona of an unfortunate…in fact, it’s quite the opposite,
“She was tall, vivid and vivacious, and supremely self-confident. Her hair was almost as dark as Hester’s raven locks. Her eyes were blue, and her skin was like rich cream.”
Janelle stands by the phone table in her swimsuit, twirling the phone cord around her finger, already feeling herself being pulled toward Captos, like an invisible, but powerful rip tide dragging the swimmer away from shore, towards the danger of the open water. She’s annoyed with the general situation, not just because going to Captos would necessitate being under the same roof as her incessantly demanding mother, or not even that she would also be with Carla, their every moment together a confirmation of her mother’s favor of her cousin, no, there was a bigger annoyance awaiting Janelle in Captos.
Brian would be there with Carla. That was the really sore spot.
We are told that Brian Ward and Janelle were once a couple. Then one day Brian was introduced to Carla and after that, it was only a short time later that the two of them announced their engagement!
Janelle felt the frustration rise up in her, she’d always held firm that her cousin stole her man, and worse yet, she seemed to be the one person in the family who saw it that way. So, she locked those resentments deep inside herself. But going to Coptos to celebrate her cunning cousin’s birthday was the last thing she wanted to do, no matter how much her mother insisted it would be a lovely visit.
And as if all this were not bad enough, she had no interest in going to this remote, frightening place.
It was remote indeed she was told, a large rambling estate situated up in the highest reaches of the desert. Brian’s father, a plainspoken and rugged man had become a newly minted Texas based oil millionaire, quickly realizing that the society that his wealth jettisoned him into would not have this unrefined man. This was why he chose this out of the way place, to get away from the very society who was intent on reminding him that despite his wealth, he did not belong.
Janelle listened to her mother, realizing she’d have no idea how to get there anyway, that’s when her mother interjected, as if she were reading her mind,
“Go to LAX, Janelle. Right away. And take a plane to the Kern County Airport in Mojave. You will be met, then a charter will take you to the private landing area…”
Janelle looks out the window, checking out of the conversation with her mother as she already envisions being at Coptos. It was pointless to resist her mother’s demands. Janelle’s habit of obedience was too strong.
Hours later, she’s crammed into the rear jump seat of the air taxi, flying over the desert towards the secluded estate when she ponders the strange and tragic link, she and her cousin share. Janelle’s father, Will Sheridan, and Carla’s parents, Carl and Helen Martel, all perished in a severe avalanche in Switzerland. It was seventeen years ago, but the pain of the sudden and cruelly final loss still seared inside her. An anguish that the passage of time didn’t dull or dampen.
“There’s a great view of the main house from here,” the pilot announces, snapping Janelle from her reverie.
She looked out the window, the flatlands which lay below Captos seemed to stretch on forever in continuous desolation. Then the majestic house came into view:
“Stark white, long and low, and fronted with columns, the house stood on the rise of ground and was ringed on three sides by the varicolored mountains. There were green trees and shrubs near the house. There was a huge corralled fence with white rails with horses inside. An area of reflected blue sky indicated a pool or lake on the property.”
The pilot then spoke up again,
“Over that way – on Scorpion Flat – is a picturesque ghost town, but you can’t see it from here.”
They landed and Janelle finds herself standing before the great house of this grand oasis. She looked around, noting the vast expanses of rugged desert terrain that immediately took over at the end of the tree line.
As I read, I could feel the loneliness of the place, which matched perfectly with how alone Janelle felt as she arrived. This was a compelling opening, and what followed was a series of suspenseful and completely enthralling situations. It just so happened that I was reading this book during some very busy days at work and at home. I carried this book with me, picking it up each and every chance I got! It really was that good!
A comment on the cover art of this novel:
There are so many aspects of the “Gothic Romance” novels of the 1960’s and 1970’s that I’ve come to love. But there’s always been one think that confused me about these books, and that is the lack of acknowledgement, or credit of any kind given to the artists who adorn these covers with their gorgeous and spectacular paintings. This seems especially unfair, the cover, after all is the very first thing I notice about these books. For me, I must like the cover, and if I do, I then read the synopsis. It’s in that order, every time.
So, it is with that in mind that I will, in my own small way, attempt to correct this by honoring the artist who painted the cover of this book.
He was a man named Walter Popp, (1920 – 2002).
Popp was born on May 19, 1920 in New York City. His father was Gustave Gutgeman, (1860 – 1952), a German immigrant artist who had a significant career as a muralist and instructor of architectural detail at the Pratt Institute.
Walter’s unwed mother, Kathe Popp, raised him. She was born in 1880 in Austria and was trained as a professional cook. In 1909 she immigrated to the U.S. on the S.S. Amerika and settled in New York City. She found work as an artist in Gutgeman’s busy workshop, where decorative designs of flowers, birds and animals were created for stylish New York furniture companies.
In the early 1930’s Gutgeman’s wife died, after which he and Kathe Popp lived together in Carlstadt, New Jersey. Young Walter was then acknowledged as a stepchild of Gustave Gutgeman.
When Walter was in his high school years, he joined his mother in the shop, this is where he discovered his love of painting. After high school graduation, in 1938, his growing passion for art brought him to the New York Phoenix School of Design.
By 1940, Walter Popp was working as a commercial artist, selling freelance illustrations to pulp magazines. It was during this time that World War 2 broke out, causing him to enter the U.S. Army in 1942. He served in the Medical Corps as a TEC-5 in posting all over Europe.
After the war, he studied art and architecture at the Shriverham American University in England. In 1946 he returned to New York and attended the Art Student’s League where he met another art student named Marie Mulligan, a native New Yorker from Queens. They fell in love and married in 1947, soon moving to his parent’s home in Carlstadt, New Jersey.
It was in that home that they raised their nine children.
Walter then increased his freelance painting work, focusing on the pulp magazine market as he crafted magazine covers and interior illustrations for publications such as: “Amazing Stories”, “Fantastic Adventures”, “Fantastic Mysteries,” “Space Stories,” “Western Story Round-Up,” and many others.
In the 1950’s he began painting covers for paperback novels, which were produced by such publishers as: Ace Books, Flying Eagle Publications” and Popular Library.
Reviewer’s Note: Popp must have continued painting novel covers for quite some time, considering that “Cold Chill of Coptos” wasn’t published till 1974. When I consider the enticing allure of this particular cover, I can see why he continued working in this field for a long time.
During this time, as his reputation for artistic excellence became better known, Popp also began picking up requests for large format true crime and men’s adventure magazines.
By the mid 1960’s he began to do design for toy and sporting goods manufacturers. He also worked on the staff as a full-time employee of the Norcross Greeting Card Company on Madison Avenue in New York City.
In the 1980’s and 1990’s he and his wife, Marie Popp, collaborated on painting book covers for a new line of Gothic Romance novels. They also produced several editions of limited prints of romantic fantasy scenes for fine art galleries. These projects brought Walter Popp new acclaim in his twilight years.
Walter Popp died in Paramus, New Jersey at the age of eighty-two on November 10, 2002.
Displaying 1 of 1 review