Dying at Honeymoon Inn

By Judy Fitzwater

Jennifer and Sam are going on their honeymoon! Sounds wonderful, except that Jennifer has no idea where Sam is taking her. It's the middle of winter, so it has to be someplace warm with plenty of sand and sun, right?

Imagine her surprise when she finds herself in the middle of a snowstorm in Pennsylvania in what's advertised as a "haunted" mansion for a murder mystery weekend. She's intrigued, especially by the amazing special effects created by the inn's owner, Rex Ferris.

But things seldom go smoothly for Jennifer, and when a fellow diner face plants into her coconut cream pie and dies from a seizure, Jennifer suspects murder. After all, the victim is on a girls' weekend with her frenemies from college. Who could possibly want her dead, except every one of them? And who else might be on Jennifer's suspect list? The only thing certain is the killer is still nearby, trapped by three-feet of snow and dangerous travel conditions.

Fans will be happy to see Mrs. Walker crash Jennifer's honeymoon to take over the murder investigation, so Jen and Sam can get back to their romantic activities. Fun and romance vie with an intriguing mystery that will keep the reader guessing to the very end.

Dying at Honeymoon Inn is the eighth in the delightful Jennifer Marsh Mystery Series.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Judy Fitzwater
• Release date: Nov 29, 2015
• ISBN: 9781311649119

Judy Fitzwater

Judy Fitzwater grew up an Air Force brat and has lived in ten states, including Maine and Hawaii. Her first mystery, DYING TO GET PUBLISHED, was plucked from a stack of unsolicited manuscripts at Ballantine Books. It was nominated for an Agatha Award for Best First Mystery. The subsequent eight-book series, THE JENNIFER MARSH MYSTERIES, was a delight for her to write, especially the scenes with Jennifer's quirky writers' group. Judy has also written two suspense thrillers, DROWNING IN AIR and NO SAFE PLACE, and the ghostly romantic comedy, VACATIONING WITH THE DEAD. She's very excited about her newest release, LOVE AFTER DEATH, which takes characters from both DYING AT HONEYMOON INN and VACATIONING WITH THE DEAD on new adventures. She has plans for more mystery, suspense, humor, and paranormal stories to come. She hopes you enjoy reading her books as much as she enjoys writing them.

Book preview

DYING

AT

HONEYMOON INN

By Judy Fitzwater

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2015 by Judith Fitzwater

Cover art copyright 2015 by Anastasia Brown

Image: Colourbox

This is a work of fiction. All characters, locations, and events described in this novel are fictitious or are used fictitiously.

All rights reserved. This book, or any part of it, cannot be reproduced, distributed, or copied by any means or for any purpose without express permission from the author.

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

For Chance and Shamus with love

Chapter 1

"I hate surprises," Jennifer grumbled.

I know, Leigh Ann giggled, her green eyes dancing. That's what makes this so perfect.

Leigh Ann and Teri had ambushed Jennifer as she'd stepped across the threshold of her apartment that she now shared with her new husband Sam. She'd just arrived home from catering a luncheon with Dee Dee for one of Macon, Georgia's pickiest society matrons, and it had taken every ounce of her limited self-control to keep her plastic smile in place while the woman constantly complained.

Lucky for her friends she wasn't much with Karate skills, or Jennifer would have taken them both down before even realizing her two besties had sneaked into her place. Actually, that wasn't true. She was so tired that if they'd been robbers, she probably would have just collapsed in a chair, offered them each one of Sam's beers, and told them to lock up when they left. Some days were like that, and this was one of those days.

Where's Muffy? Jennifer demanded, suddenly realizing her faithful greyhound, who always greeted her with unbounded joy, was nowhere to be found. Sam, too, was mysteriously absent. And he'd promised to be home this afternoon—actually all weekend—something that almost never happened, something she'd been looking forward to all week.

She's staying at my mom's house, Teri assured her. She's in for twenty-four hour love and care on demand, a pup's paradise.

Teri's mom was like that, the epitome of the Southern mother who believed food and lots of hugs could cure almost any ill a human or an animal could experience. She'd even worked her magic on Jennifer on more than one occasion.

And why, exactly, is Muffy there? Jennifer asked.

Teri gave Jennifer a sly smile that brightened her pretty, coffee-colored face and thrust a smallish suitcase into Jennifer's hands. Would you just get over your whole control freak attitude for half a minute? Sam is taking you on a surprise weekend honeymoon, and that, child, means you're going. So paste on that fake smile of yours and please your man. He'll be waiting outside for you in approximately five minutes.

Surprise! Leigh Ann squealed, bouncing up and down on her petite heels.

Five minutes? Jennifer wondered if she looked half as bewildered as she felt. She was still wearing her catering outfit—the tuxedo shirt, black pencil skirt, and black bow tie—the very outfit she'd been in when Sam first laid eyes on her.

Leigh Ann offered her a dreamy look and sighed. Isn't it romantic?

"No, it's not romantic. It's…" Jennifer bit her tongue. It was romantic. Romantic, sweet, touching, at least it would be for anyone else. For Jennifer it was overwhelming, not to mention terrifying as she looked at the weekend case she was holding. "You packed for me? What the heck is in here? Where are we going?"

Sam wouldn't tell us, Leigh Ann confessed. He said we couldn't be trusted not to spoil the surprise. But don't worry. We covered all the bases. Swim suits, a sweatshirt for nights on the beach. Flip flops. Dressy stuff. All the essentials.

"But he didn't actually tell you he was taking me to a beach. You really don't know where we're going?"

Heck no, baby girl, Teri said. But where else would he take you in the middle of winter? Why do you care anyway? On your honeymoon sightseeing should be done within the four walls of some upscale hotel with room service. We could have put nothing but lingerie—

I don't wear lingerie.

Leigh Ann grinned. Exactly. We could have left it empty.

Jennifer glared, and Leigh Ann rushed on. But we didn't. Got your makeup, toothbrush, floss—all the necessaries plus—

Don't tell her about the fur-lined handcuffs, Teri cautioned. Or the—

Jennifer dropped the bag as though it had burst into flames.

Teri rolled her eyes. Honestly, Jen? I'm kidding. Just pick the thing up, and go meet that fine man of yours downstairs. He's gone to a lot of trouble, and you don't want to be late for your flight.

Flight?

Oops. We weren't supposed to let that slip out, Leigh Ann said, sheepishly.

Hmmm. That meant someplace more than a couple of hours away. A little fun in the sun might be exactly what she needed. You swear it's only for a weekend.

Pinkie swear, Leigh Ann assured her.

Jennifer slipped into the bedroom, slipped out of her uniform and into jeans, a pullover sweater, and a pair of flats.

You'll be back in plenty of time for our writers' group on Monday night, Teri called after her. How are the sales going for your Maxie Malone mysteries?

They'd only been up on the e-book sites for a few weeks, and Jennifer was too afraid to jinx their surprisingly good sales by even talking about them.

She was back in the living room almost before Teri had finished speaking. Okay. The covers that Grace did for me are crazy good.

True, Leigh Ann agreed. But didn't you mention something about outside interest from a big book distributor that might want to put them in hardcover?

Jennifer breathed deeply. Oh, that. It's probably nothing.

No more book talk, Teri commanded. That can wait until after the honeymoon. It's not like she can do anything to move things along anyway. A writer's life is a constant checking of email, plus a little writing in between.

You are so right, Teri. Leigh Ann's face adopted a starry-eyed look. Love. That's all that really matters, isn't it? And shoes. And purses. And honeymoons! My bet is Sam's taking you to one of the islands in the Caribbean, so here's your passport. Stick it in your purse just in case.

For once, Jennifer did what she was told without a fuss. She'd never been outside the U.S. except for one best forgotten spring break in Mexico.

But how far could they possibly go with only a weekend?

I'm thinking maybe New Orleans, Teri offered.

I'm thinking I must be out of mind to do this, Jennifer muttered.

Oooooh, oooooh, oooooh, Leigh Ann added. You've got to call, or at least text, and tell us where you are the minute you get there. Monique, April, and the two of us have a pool going.

Jennifer threw Leigh Ann her death glare. Seriously? Was everyone she knew in on Sam's plan except for her?

Do it, Jen, Teri pleaded. If not for her, for me. I'm not putting up with nonstop speculation the entire weekend from bouncy ball over here.

Okay. I'll text you as soon as we get to our final destination. But that's all. I don't want to hear a word from either of you this weekend. You both want me to embrace this honeymoon with as much romance as I can muster, so I will. Oh, and thanks for helping Sam and me with all of this.

And with that, Jennifer threw on a coat, hugged her dearest friends, picked up the bag, grabbed her purse, drew in a great breath, and stepped through her door towards who-knew-what.

Chapter 2

How in the world did you find this place? Jennifer gasped, staring at the large, brick, columned mansion in front of her as Sam pulled their weekend bags out of the back of their rental car.

Really. How in the world had he found it? And why? They were literally about as far out in the boonies as Jennifer had ever been. And there was not a speck of sand anywhere, unless it was buried under the couple of feet of snow that were threatening to ruin her leather flats forever.

The winter sun was just setting through the leafless trees, infusing the snow that was continuing to fall with a pinkish tint and outlining the house in a strange glow of wonder that, in any other frame of mind, would have been pretty amazing.

It's…it's… Well, it certainly wasn't the fun in the sun Jennifer had been expecting, but then the gate at the Atlanta airport announcing a Baltimore destination should have been a dead giveaway they were northward bound.

Perfect? Sam supplied hopefully, slamming the hatchback shut on the Mini Cooper with the cool racing stripes.

I was going to say creepy, but perfect will do.

Sam's smile disappeared, a pensive frown forming between those amazing, dark blue eyes of his. You don't like it.

A broad smile broke across Jennifer's face, a genuine smile. Sand she could get almost anywhere, but this was something entirely different, something she was already warming up to, despite the cold. "No, silly. Creepy in a good way. It's…really nice. It's so old. And eerie. It looks like it could be haunted. What an interesting choice for our honeymoon.

And it's snowing! Really, really snowing! We don't ever get this kind of weather in Georgia, at least not in Macon, she gushed.

Huge flakes clinging to each other floated down, promising to add significantly to the current accumulation, and making Jennifer shiver in her thin coat. Her shoes were filling with snow from just standing there, and flakes were enveloping her bare feet in tiny ice crystals. They'd been lucky that their flight into Baltimore hadn't been delayed or even canceled.

Maybe she could steal a pair of socks out of Sam's suitcase because she was sure that the need for socks had never once occurred to either Leigh Ann or Teri.

I wanted to take you to Hawaii, but I knew that was out since I could only get a couple of days off from work.

Yeah, like we've got that kind of money.

She didn't add that covering superior court for the Macon Telegraph also made it hard to take off any time when there was a big trial with a sequestered jury going on even as they stood there chilling in the unfamiliar Pennsylvania country air. Sam had to be back by ten a.m. sharp when court resumed on Monday.

She looked again at the gigantic old house, and a sense of warmth inexplicably swept over her. Sam had done all of this for her. And while it might not have been her first choice, taking a Southern girl north in the winter was definitely a new experience—including the prospect of frostbite nipping dangerously at her toes.

It's like we've stepped back in time into some different dimension where anything is possible, she said.

She flung out her arms and whirled around, watching snow land and melt on the shoulders of her coat. Then she grinned and stuck out her tongue to capture a flake gently floating past. They had already made a sparkling layer on her long, taffy brown hair that hung below the white knit cap that covered her forehead and ears. Thank goodness she always kept it and a pair of matching gloves tucked in the pocket of her coat.

She threw her arms around Sam and hugged him tight. I love you, Sam Culpepper.

You're getting to be a pro at saying that.

I am indeed.

"We will be able to travel someday when your mysteries start making money," Sam assured her.

Her mysteries. Ugh. She'd wanted to forget about her obsession with writing for at least this one weekend, but here was Sam bringing it up. He didn't know how well her books were doing, or about the interest she'd had about a possible hardback edition. She'd been burned too many times to get his hopes up. Or hers. Much better to surprise him if something did pan out.

Sam, none of that matters right now. I have a wonderful hus… Jennifer's throated constricted around the unfamiliar word. Darn it! Husband, she stated confidently, grabbing up her small suitcase. Would she never get it into her head that she was actually married?

Get used to it, kid, Sam said gently. I intend to be around a long, long time.

You'd better be. A tear stung the corner of Jennifer's eye. The two of them had had a few close calls. She'd sworn to herself the day she said her marriage vows that she would never take Sam for granted. And that she'd try her best to keep them both alive, despite her uncanny ability to put them in danger. That sounded so much better than reckless behavior.

They might have their disagreements every now and then over some of her choices, but so what? That was what made things interesting, right? The occasional flying bullet was simply an occupational hazard for someone who had a way of getting dragged into real life mysteries through her reputation as an amateur detective.

She shoved all negative thoughts from her mind. They were on their honeymoon! This weekend was going to be about life, happiness, a celebration of their future, and her quest to get the feeling back in her toes. Nothing, and she meant nothing, was going to spoil it.

Sam picked up his bag. I'll be more than happy to carry yours, too, Mrs. Culpepper.

I know, but I've got this, she assured him. You can get the door.

He nodded, and they picked their way across the icy parking lot toward the Victorian home with its wide front porch and broad stone steps, Jennifer's hand tucked securely in the crook of Sam's arm. Sam had long ago learned to let the little things go, a fact she was quite happy about.

You know your writing isn't about the money, he said. We can live on our salaries.

Jennifer still wrote a story every now and then for the Atlanta Eye, the ridiculous scandal rag that passed for a newspaper at supermarket checkouts. Fred Hall, the editor, said she was one of the best creators of malarkey that he'd ever had, and he wasn't about to let her go, even if she only knocked out an article or two a month under her byline of Amelia Evergreen. After all, he paid really well, and it was a great way to keep her fiction skills fresh. It provided a nice supplement to what she made catering with Dee Dee.

When you finally start making money from your mysteries, Sam went on, we'll put it into vacations—like going to Hawaii.

Yeah, or Tahiti. More like Jekyll Island or Savannah. They have beautiful beaches, too. Realistically they were looking at a blow-up palm tree and a tiki bar made out of a plastic grass skirt pinned around their kitchen counter. Leigh Ann would have said anywhere with Sam would be paradise. But then Leigh Ann lived between the pages of her own romance novels.

You didn't answer my question, Jennifer pressed. I mean look where we are. She lifted her bag to indicate the towering pine and hemlock trees and rolling mounds of white. "Out in the middle of nowhere in Pennsylvania. How did you find this place?"

If the sign at the iron gate at the front entrance hadn't proclaimed, The Ferris Mansion. Mystery Weekends, Jennifer would have sworn they were about to crash someone's private dinner party, some very rich someone because the house was big enough to get lost in for a week. Of course, the large parking lot filled with cars made that unlikely.

"Since I knew we had so little time, and I didn't want us to be one of those couples who celebrate their first anniversaries without having gone on even a mini honeymoon, I googled unique weekend destinations. This one came up in an article in a back issue of The Traveler's Companion. It sounded intriguing. It promised 'an experience like none other,' which pretty much describes living with you. Besides, you're a mystery writer. How could you not love a weekend full of murder without any real corpses?"

Jennifer glanced at him sideways, a smirk distorting her lips. Sam Culpepper, you know me so well. She sighed again. Yes, murder was her business, but she was looking forward to a vacation from death.

Chapter 3

Mr. and Mrs. Sam Culpepper, a strait-laced, older woman with exacting posture and her blondish-gray hair twisted into a knot at the back of her neck repeated as she scanned through the reservations on her computer while standing behind the check-in counter. Yes, we have you in the main house. Oh, I see it's your honeymoon! A smile lit up her stern features, relaxing them into an almost attractive face. "I'm so glad you chose to spend it with us.