Trick or Trouble: Firefly Junction Cozy Mystery, #9

By London Lovett

Sunni Taylor is moving forward on the remodel of the Cider Ridge Inn. She is anxious to start her bed and breakfast business. Unfortunately, the inn is not cooperating. It seems she is hit with one catastrophe after another. This time it's the plumbing. She's able to earn some extra money working for her sister's party business, but it's just not enough to keep up with the flow of unforeseen problems.

 

Sunni's best friend, Raine, invites her along on a spooky campout where the locals gather annually hoping to spot the ghost of the infamous serial killer, Septimus Hagwood. Sunni decides it will be a fun diversion from her financial troubles, and, if she's lucky, she'll get a newspaper story out of it. And what a story she finds! When one of the campers is found dead in Hagwood's old smokehouse, the campers are frightened out of their wits. And rightfully so. Sunni doesn't just have a story to write, she has a murder to solve. With the help of the devilishly handsome Detective Jackson . . . of course.

 

Book 9 of the Firefly Junction Cozy Msytery series

• Language: English
• Publisher: Wild Fox Press
• Release date: Jan 6, 2021
• ISBN: 9781393712862

Book preview

Chapter 1

You have mouse ears on your head," Edward drawled as I stepped into the kitchen.

I leaned down to the toaster to check my reflection in the chrome. I gingerly pushed the right ear so it sat straighter on my head. You're very observant this evening, I quipped. But if you were truly paying attention, you'd notice I am also wearing a tail. I reached back, grabbed the black velvet tail and gave it a little swing.

Edward crossed his arms, giving his transparent, broad shoulders a lift. I thought the tail was always there.

Funny ghost. If there was a comedy club for unsettled spirits, you'd be the headliner. I walked to the refrigerator for the sandwich half I'd saved from lunch. I held the mouse ears steady as I leaned into the fridge. Money had been my sole motive when I'd agreed to help Lana with the costume party. I'd decided to install an ornate, black wrought iron banister on the stairway. The new addition had left an ugly dent in my remodel budget. It was my sisters' fault. Lana and Emily had held a near intervention to let me know I absolutely had to replace the ungainly balustrades.

I pushed aside the milk carton and jar of strawberry jam in search of my sandwich.

Comedy club? Headliner? Edward swept over to the hearth to perch. As is often the case, I have no idea what you're talking about, but if you're looking for the food that was wrapped in the crinkly silver paper, that oaf ate it hours ago.

I yanked my head out of the fridge so fast it dislodged my Minnie Mouse ears. I righted them on my head. Henry ate my sandwich?

You sound surprised. Unfortunately, my sarcastic apparition was right. No food was safe when Henry was working in the house. His proclivity to help himself to anything in my kitchen along with Ursula's constant harping and complaining (mostly to Henry about his habit of raiding my fridge) were two of the annoyances I'd learned to ignore. I needed the Rice siblings for the massive remodeling project at the inn. They had their bad habits, but they did great work at reasonable prices. Besides, I was certain any contractor team I hired would likely arrive with their own unique set of annoying habits. I was already used to Henry and Ursula. That said, I had really looked forward to the last half of my sandwich.

You still haven't explained yourself. Edward pointed to the top of his head to remind me about the mouse ears.

In order to pay for this massive house remodel, I have to take on extra jobs. Lana is my best source for that. Every year, she is the organizer for a large costume party hosted by a conglomerate of insurance agencies in the area. I have to help her set up. She insisted I wear a costume. I just happened to have Minnie Mouse in my closet from a party I attended a few years back.

I suppose this has to do with that odd, pagan-like celebration where the squash are carved into smiling faces. Edward floated to the counter where I'd placed several pumpkins, recently picked from Emily's patch. He lifted one up and spun it easily on his vaporous fingertip.

Ursula, while loud vocally, was tiny, almost waifish and, therefore, moved with hardly a sound. She entered the kitchen without warning. Edward vanished. The pumpkin fell to the ground and broke into three big, messy pieces.

The room fell awkwardly silent after the splat. Ursula's face paled considerably as she stared down at the pumpkin disaster. With her stealthy entrance, I wasn't exactly sure when she'd stepped into the kitchen, but her expression assured me she'd seen the pumpkin magically twirling in midair before it took the fatal plunge. For months, Edward had teased the poor woman with ghostly antics like moving tools, making noises and even wrenching a hammer from her hand. His tricks had unnerved her, and it seemed I was going to lose my remodeling team. Fortunately, Henry convinced Ursula to return to the job. After that, I'd made clear to Edward that the teasing had to stop or I would find a team far more noisy and annoying to replace them. He'd complied, for the most part. The current unsettling moment was due more to bad timing than his penchant for mischief.

I dashed toward the split pumpkin. Darn it, I forgot that pumpkin was lopsided. I shouldn't have placed it so close to the edge of the counter. I stooped down to pick up the big, sticky chunks of squash. Guess you'll never see fame as a jack-o'-lantern, I said glibly to the pieces in my hand.

Ursula stood frozen with a look that could have been described as confusion coupled with horror. I laughed airily, hoping to snap her out of the trance where she was obviously, and rightfully, trying to square what she'd just seen with normal physics.

It's all right, Ursula, I chided. It was instant. I don't think he felt a thing.

Ursula pointed at the counter and the other pumpkins. But it arced up into the air. It was higher than the counter when I walked into the room.

I decided my best bet was to continue with the comedy sketch. I held up the chunks and looked sternly at the remaining pumpkins. All right, which one of you pushed little Billy off the counter? Look what you did. A bandage is not going to fix this.

Henry walked in right then. What's taking you so long? he asked. I've got the truck running.

Henry's tone snapped Ursula out of her bewildered state and right back into sibling rivalry mode. Keep your hat on, Ursula scolded. I came in here to warn Sunni about the leak in the basement. I was pleased to leave the pumpkin topic behind but equally displeased to learn about yet another problem that would cost money.

A leak? I asked. Is it bad?

Henry shrugged lightly. I was going to leave it for later. Didn't want to bother you about it right before the weekend. It's sealed up right now. There's a lot of dampness in the cellar wall, and since it hasn't really rained—

It's something with the plumbing, I finished for him. It seems my century plus inn is a veritable smorgasbord of problems. I joked half-heartedly. I'd grown used to the constant flow of problems, but my dream of turning the inn into a bed and breakfast was becoming a huge financial burden.

Don't worry about it, Henry said. Take your cute little mouse ears and tail off to your party. I'll call my plumber friend, Chuck, and set up a time next week for him to check out what's going on down there. It'll be fine.

Henry had told it me it'll be fine more than once in the past year, and usually, it wasn't all that fine. I was at that 'no turning back' point in the project, so I just had to deal with the problems.

Thanks, Henry. If you could talk to Chuck soon so I'll know just what we're looking at in terms of the budget.

What's a little moisture in the cellar, Edward said. After the pumpkin disaster he'd vanished and just as quickly reappeared on his perch. Just seal it up. What's the worst that could happen? Rot?

I rolled my eyes his direction. In his ghostly, out of date mind, everything I did in the inn was an extravagant waste of money. As far as he was concerned, it was perfectly livable in its dilapidated form.

If you two are leaving, then I'm off too, I said cheerily. Lana needs me to help finish setting up tables and chairs, so it's Minnie Mouse to the rescue.

Henry snapped his fingers. That's the name of the character. I had it right on the tip of my tongue.

Ursula was uncharacteristically quiet, so I avoided making eye contact with her. I sensed that she was still trying to puzzle out the gravity defying pumpkin. She finally spoke up, breaking her thinking process to partake in her favorite activity.

Did you also tell Sunni about the ham and cheese sandwich you ate, or was that confession stuck behind Minnie Mouse on the tip of your tongue? Ursula asked.

Henry's cheeks turned cherry pink. Yes, I was just going to tell her. Hope you don't mind, Sunni, but this one—he tilted his head toward his sister—had me rushing around so much at lunchtime, I never had a chance to eat. I found the half a sandwich in the fridge, and I didn't think you'd mind.

"Normally, people ask that before they shove the sandwich into their kissers," Ursula snapped. It seemed the pumpkin problem was behind us, which made the loss of sandwich well worth it.

Don't worry about it, Henry. I'm glad my sandwich gave you some food energy. I used a casual arm wave to move them toward the front door. As always, you guys did a great job today. I hope you have a great weekend. I kept sweeping them toward the exit. It had been a long week, and it nearly ended with a catastrophe. I was relieved that Ursula had gotten sidetracked enough to forget all about the levitating pumpkin. Jackson, the only other person who knew Edward existed, had only just started returning to the inn. It had taken him a considerable amount of time, reflection and mind debate to accept that his girlfriend's inn was inhabited by a ghost, and he was a pragmatic and reasonable person. If Ursula discovered the truth, she would run for the hills screaming ghost all the way. She was already jumpy enough considering we were closing in on All Hallow's Eve, a night that was filled with restless spirits. The floating pumpkin was the last thing she needed to see. It seemed, this time, she'd talked herself into the more plausible explanation of a lopsided pumpkin rolling off the counter.

Ursula was busy berating Henry for breaking the screwdriver earlier in the day as they trotted back to their work truck and climbed inside.

Dimwits, Edward muttered.

I spun back and found him hovering near the chandelier in the entry.

You've got to stop juggling, spinning and tossing fruits and vegetables around the kitchen. It's getting harder and harder to come up with excuses for floating produce. I checked my ears and makeup in the mirror hanging over the entryway side table. Now, this mouse is off to help her sister and earn a few bucks so we can keep the basement from filling up with water. Good night and no more pumpkin antics.

Stay away from cats, he advised on my way out the door.

Chapter 2

Lana straightened with a long strand of purple twinkling lights. You're late, Minnie Mouse. There's a platter of bat cookies on the kitchen table. Please put those in the backseat of the truck. I'm going to drive this last load out to the barn. She held up the lights. Glance at these. Are they all working? I can't see when I'm holding them. Lana was in her whirlwind mode, a level of energy she burst into whenever the party hour neared.

They're all twinkling. I hurried into the kitchen and picked up the platter of glossy black cookies. Dozens of tiny red eyes stared back at me from the platter. Lana held the lights in one hand and the door with the other, and I whisked through with the bats.

These are so cute, I noted.

Tasty too. Emily helped me bake them this morning. They are vanilla with a hint of black pepper.

I looked back at her in surprise.

Yep, I thought it was crazy too but it works. Emily is a culinary genius.

You don't have to tell me that. I've got an entire notebook filled with her delicious recipes just waiting for Cider Ridge Inn to have hungry guests. Bringing up the bed and breakfast reminded me of the last trinket of bad news. Unless my business venture goes belly up before it even starts. Henry says there's a leak in the basement.

Lana took the platter from my hands to put in the backseat. Probably nothing. I'm sure it'll be fine. She spun around and lowered the tray into the truck.

Why does everyone keep saying it'll be fine? It won't be. The place is a million years old. Every day, it reminds me of that fact by bursting a pipe, losing a roof shingle or loosening a floor board. We climbed into the truck. It's almost as if the house is fighting me on this whole thing.

Lana grinned slyly at me. Maybe it's the ghost.

My sister was one of the last holdouts about the actual existence of a spirit at the inn. Sometimes, even Emily seemed to sense that we were not alone in the kitchen. My older and much more pragmatic sister loved to tease me about my haunted inn, assuming I was right there with her on skepticism. And I had to keep up the charade.

Maybe the ghost can chip in on repairs then, I said wryly. Because at this rate, he'll be another hundred years old before the inn opens.

Lana laughed. So you're definitely set on the ghost being male? Ooh, maybe it's a tall, dapper Englishman, like the guy who died in the house. What's his name? Raine's mentioned it a few times.

I tapped my chin as if struggling to remember. Edward or Edgar Bennett or something like that. I turned toward the passenger window with an impish grin thinking that tall and dapper was pretty spot on.

Raine's car pulled up behind us as we parked the truck in front of Lana's beautiful party barn. Sorry, I'm late. My five o'clock tea leaf reading went longer than expected. She emerged from the car wearing a poodle skirt and pink blouse. She was still wearing her thick rimmed glasses, a necessity, but she had pulled her fairly short dark hair into a ponytail and replaced her usual ankle boots with black and white saddle shoes. She fussed with the wide skirt to make certain the poodle appliqué was in the right spot, then held out her arms. What do you think? I'm considering giving up my usual boho style for something more wholesome and nostalgic.

Lana walked over and dropped a box of table linens into Raine's hands. I think you're late, so we don't have time to talk about your fashion. But you do look cute in poodle. She spun back around and motioned for me to get the cookie tray out of the backseat.

Moments later, my drill sergeant sister had Raine and me setting the tables with orange and black checkered tablecloths. We found the whole task was easier and more enjoyable when we worked together on each table. I unfolded the next tablecloth and Raine took an end. We lowered it over the round table and shifted the linen fabric until it was centered and smoothed.

What are you doing tomorrow night? Raine asked.

Hmm, nothing much. I think Jackson is working all weekend. I'll probably just putter around the house and lament my lack of funds for doing everything I want to the inn.

Raine followed me to the next table. I know a way you could make some money for the remodel, but you're such an old fuddy duddy, you'll say no.

I tossed out the end of the next cloth and she caught it.

I'm neither a fuddy nor a duddy and, at this point, desperate enough even to hear your plans. We carried the cloth over the table and lowered it.

She drew in her heavily painted lips. Since you're being so mean about it, I'll just keep my brilliant idea to myself.

I waited, knowing full well she had no intention of keeping it to herself.

All right, since you insist, Raine huffed. You could turn the inn into a haunted house for Halloween. Everyone already thinks it's haunted. Charge ten dollars a ticket and just watch the money roll in.

I was wearing an invisible smile as I temporarily allowed myself the image of people streaming through the house and being met by the actual ghost of Edward Beckett