Merry Wrath Mysteries Boxed Set Vol. VI (Books 16-18)

By Leslie Langtry

From USA Today bestselling author Leslie Langtry comes a boxed set of three hilarious Merry Wrath Mysteries! This boxed set includes three, full-length novels featuring the CIA assassin turned Girls Scout troop leader, including:

Mad Money Murder – book #16
When Merry Wrath inherits an urn of cremains, the ex-CIA agent turned Scout Leader also inherits a mystery: “If you’ve received this, it means that I need you to find out who murdered me.” With her best friend and five mischievous little Girl Scouts, Merry takes a trip across the state to her aunt's hometown for answers. But can she get them before a killer silences her questions...for good?

Mind-Bending Murder – book #17
Former CIA agent and current suburbanite Merry Wrath knows she’s having a bad day when she wakes up wearing someone else's clothes in a locked room with a dead body. It doesn’t help matters any when the police burst in and arrest her on the spot for the murder of a man she’s never heard of. Can Merry solve this locked room mystery before she ends up locked in a cell?

Mascots Are Murder – book #18
For Merry Wrath her 10 year high school reunion brings more than just spiked punch, when the loathed Class President threatens to reveal dangerous secrets, half the class starts hallucinating, and they all find themselves locked into the gym by a murderous ninja janitor. Merry has to move fast to make sure there are enough classmates left for a 15 year reunion!

Merry Wrath Mysteries:
Merit Badge Murder – book #1
Mint Cookie Murder – book #2
Scout Camp Mystery – short story in the "Killer Beach Reads" collection
Marshmallow S'More Murder – book #3
Movie Night Murder – book #4
Mud Run Murder – book #5
Fishing Badge Murder – short story in the "Pushing Up Daisies" collection
Motto for Murder – book #6
Map Skills Murder – book #7
Mean Girl Murder – book #8
Marriage Vow Murder – book #9
Mystery Night Murder – book #10
Meerkats and Murder– book #11
Make Believe Murder – book #12
Maltese Vulture Murder – book #13
Musket Ball Murder – book #14
Macho Man Murder – book #15
Mad Money Murder – book #16
Mind-Bending Murder – book #17
Mascots Are Murder – book #18
Mosquito Bite Murder – book #19

"Langtry gets the fun started from page one!"
~ Publisher's Weekly

• Language: English
• Publisher: Gemma Halliday Publishing
• Release date: Jul 6, 2021
• ISBN: 9781005701536

Leslie Langtry

Leslie Langtry is the USA Today bestselling author of the Greatest Hits Mysteries, The Adulterer's Unofficial Guide to Family Vacations, and several books she hasn't finished yet, because she's very lazy. Leslie loves puppies and cake (but she will not share her cake with puppies) and lives with her family and assorted animals in the Midwest.

Book preview

a Merry Wrath Mystery

by

LESLIE LANGTRY

* * * * *

CHAPTER ONE

What do you mean I've inherited a dead body? I repeated into the cell phone.

"It's not a body, kiddo, my mother said in her usual calm, measured tone. They're cremains."

That kind of makes it worse, I insisted. And technically, it's still a body.

Anyway, Mom continued, the urn with Aunt June's remains arrives today, so make sure you are home to sign for it.

Why didn't they just send it to you? I asked.

Because Aunt June left them and everything else to you. They just called me to get your address. You should expect a call from her lawyer soon.

So. I whistled. There really was an Aunt June. And even though I didn't know her, she left me her cremains in her will.

For years there had been a running joke in our family about the mysterious Aunt June. My grandmother would occasionally mention her to Mom, but no one else had ever met her, knew anything about her, or believed she existed. If we didn't know who'd said something interesting or done something unusual, it was attributed to Aunt June. Who said May comes in like a Methodist lime Jell-O mold and goes out like Catholic Tater Tot casserole? Aunt June. Who once rode a tricycle to Des Moines for a chance to meet Richard Nixon? Aunt June.

And now an urn with the ashes of a folk saying Nixon lover was going to be delivered to my door at any moment.

We ended the call, and I sat in the living room with my pets—Philby (a rotund, tyrannical cat who looked like Hitler), Leonard (a sweet Scottish deerhound who was terrorized by Philby), and Philby's daughter Martini (a narcoleptic cat on her best day who believed Leonard was nothing more than a scruffy piece of furniture to nap on).

What am I supposed to do with somebody's ashes? I grumbled to the animals.

Philby looked me in the eye, smacked me in the face with her paw, and farted. I guess that's what she thought about that.

Bobb, I said meanly.

The fat cat closed her eyes and hissed so hard that she flew backward across the glossy surface of the coffee table, landing on the floor on her side. It took a while for the tick-like cat to right herself. Once she did, she glared at me and fled the room.

I shouldn't have done that. Philby had once been owned by a man named Bobb who'd turned up dead on my doorstep a long time ago. Whenever you said his name, the feline führer had the same reaction.

I was about to seek her out and apologize with albacore tuna when the doorbell rang. Glancing at the window, I spotted the delivery van in the driveway.

An obnoxiously happy young man who couldn't have been any older than eighteen greeted me cheerily at the door with a big box.

Howdy! I'm Jason! Sign for this, please!

I signed, and Jason handed it over. It was so heavy that I nearly dropped it. I guess the ashes of an entire body would be heavy. Hopefully the box itself wasn't the actual urn.

Have a wonderful day, ma'am! Jason saluted me for some reason before bouncing back to his van, where he saluted me once more before starting it up and driving away.

What are you so happy for? I shouted at the receding truck. This is a dead body! Show some respect!

A woman pushing a carriage in front of my house stared at me in horror.

"It's not like I killed her. I didn't even know she existed until she was dead," I insisted before taking my body inside. At least, I didn't think I had.

As a spy, you never really knew if one of your actions eventually led to an accidental death. It was just par for the course, and when I was in that line of work, I never thought about it.

My name is Merry Wrath, and I used to be a CIA field agent. I say used to because, a few years ago, I was accidentally outed by the Vice President as a rebuke to my father, who is a senator. Back then I was Fionnaghuala Merrygold Czrygy—or Finn. The outing took place on CNN while I was undercover with a Chechen group. We all happened to be in a dive bar, drinking cheap, warm beer with dubious expiration dates, when the story broke. I barely made it back to the USA in one piece. When I did, the Agency gave me early retirement, a huge settlement, and proceeded to scrub all files of my existence.

My parents were big deals in Washington DC, and I didn't feel like my life made sense there. So I packed it in, changed my name to Merry Wrath (my mother's way cooler maiden name), and came back home to the small town of Who's There, Iowa. My best friend, Kelly Albers, insisted we start up a Girl Scout troop, and we did. Surprisingly, many of my spy skills translated to working with a bunch of precocious little girls.

After setting the box on the dining room table, I opened it. There was a letter inside addressed to me in shaky penmanship. I set that aside and pulled away what seemed like miles of bubble wrap to uncover the urn.

It was the ugliest thing I'd ever seen. And I've seen Putin, shirtless, riding a bear. No, I'm not talking about the meme of that. He really did ride on the back of a giant bear. Shirtless. I'd been tailing him and a few members of the politburo for a couple of hours walking in the Siberian countryside—something I would never recommend that anyone do because it's freezing even in summer. After making some joke I couldn't hear to flunkies who could laugh convincingly on demand, he tore off his shirt, climbed aboard a passing bear, and rode off into the sunset.

The urn was a sickly acid yellow peeking out between hundreds of tacky and fake jewels. Someone had given Aunt June a BeDazzler at some point. On the back were the words Hot to Trot in Heaven!

Who was this woman? My family had believed she was just a figment of Grandma Wrath's imagination or an invisible friend triggered by dementia. But now I'd inherited the remains of someone who, in spite of having appalling taste in afterlife containers, seemed kind of fun.

I unscrewed the lid and looked in, wondering if this was all some sort of elaborate hoax.

It wasn't. The urn was filled with a greasy-looking gray ash. I slammed the lid back on and screwed it tight, turning my attention to the envelope, which contained a letter.

Dear Finn, or Merry, or Whoever you really are,

I was impressed that she knew both of my names. As for the Whoever part—I often wondered about that myself. Spies who go through a lot of intensive identities can go a little mad when they retire. They have an identity crisis of apocalyptic proportions as they wrestle with who they really were. I knew a guy who snapped in the end and insisted on going by Spanky the Wonder Bunny in retirement.

I kept reading.

You probably don't remember me, but I'm a friend of the family. It's funny how many people think I'm their aunt when, in fact, my first name is Aunt. Strange, right?

That was one mystery solved. For years, we'd thought the woman was related. Turns out she just had a funny first name. Like Spanky.

I've taken great interest in your career, both in the CIA and in Who's There as a detective. While impressive, you really should be careful with all those dead bodies, dear. Very germy and quite unsanitary.

Yes! Someone actually thinks of me as a real detective! I might have to frame this. And she's not wrong. Dead bodies are germy. Too bad I'd never find out how she felt about cremains.

I regret that you didn't get a chance to know me, but since I have all those pet spiders, people mistakenly believe I'm quirky. I'm actually as normal as the next woman.

Pet spiders? That was pretty quirky, even for Iowa.

I will cut to the chase. If you've received this, it means that I need your help. I need you to find out who murdered me.

Okay, that's it for now! Thanks!

Love, Aunt June

I blinked and re-read the letter. Find out who murdered her? Maybe it was the spiders. And why did she write that's it for now? Did she plan to contact me from the grave? I thought about the Cult of NicoDerm, a local band of delusional teen druids who believed I was a goddess who could talk to birds. If they thought I got mail from dead people…which I guess I now kind of had…they'd never leave me alone.

My cell buzzed. I didn't recognize the number. Most people wouldn't answer the phone under those circumstances, but I didn't get many calls. Besides, maybe it had something to do with Aunt June.

Ms. Wrath? a stiff, masculine voice with a posh British accent asked.

Yes, that's me, I responded. Actually, it's Mrs. Ferguson now.

There was an irritable sigh on the other end that probably would've qualified the man for martyrdom. This is Mr. Basil E. Hickenlooper of Hickenlooper, Hickenlooper & Hickenlooper. I am the attorney representing Miss Aunt Delilah June.

Huh. It never occurred to me that June was her last name. I'd always thought it was her first name until moments ago. And even then, I'd assumed it was a middle name.

I just received the cremains and a letter from her, I replied. Within the last few minutes.

Yes, Mr. Hickenlooper said tightly. We know.

You do? I ran to the window and looked out. There were no cars parked on the street and no Brit standing on the sidewalk, so I scanned the rooftops. Spies really liked rooftops. So did snipers. In fact, the CIA 101 training manual actually says If you are under threat, always avoid being within the vicinity of rooftops. It was sound advice, especially if you were in a certain, very snipey neighborhood in Bangladesh.

Yes, the man said. I would like to meet with you as soon as possible.

I was still studying the neighborhood. Um, okay. Are you in Who's There?

Good Lord! the man cried out. Of course I'm not! That would be dreadful!

Those were fighting words, but since I needed more information on the dead woman on my dining room table, I let it slide.

Where would you like to meet?

Basil continued, Our offices are in Behold, Iowa. How soon can we expect you?

I don't know. I've never heard of Behold. It's a weird name, I insulted breezily and consulted my phone.

Iowa has ninety-nine counties, each one filled with small towns. I never understood why they didn't round up to one hundred. I would have. Actually, I think any sane person would have. Who says Alright, we have ninety-nine counties—whattaya say we call it at that? At any rate, I didn't know every town, and I didn't know this one.

You're three and a half hours away! I squinted at my phone in hopes I might be wrong.

Basil sighed. "Yes. It would be too inconvenient for me to come there, and you need to decide what to do with the house you've inherited."

I blinked. I inherited a house?

That wasn't great. I already had two. One was the house Rex, my husband and the town's police detective, and I lived in together, and the other was my first house across the street. I held my Girl Scout meetings there. I couldn't bear the thought of parting with it. Now I had another one?

Please meet me tomorrow at 3pm. He read off an address and hung up before I could say no.

I did what any woman did in these kinds of circumstances. I called my mother. Again.

Merry? Mom answered on the first ring. Did you get the urn?

I told her about the cremains, the ugly urn, Aunt June and her weird name, and the fact that I now had to drive to the northeast corner of the state by tomorrow to meet with some snobby British lawyer.

She laughed and apologized for doing so. Sorry, kiddo. It's just a lot to take in.

What do you think?

You should go, of course, Mom answered as if I'd just mentioned running to the store.

Mom. I shook my head, even though she couldn't see it. She has pet spiders.

I'm not surprised. Wish I could go with you, but I'm helping with a gala for the Smithsonian. My mother was quite the social butterfly in DC. Send pictures! And with that, she hung up.

Oh well. I guess when your mother tells you to drive halfway across the state to accept a houseful of spiders from a quirky sort-of relative who believed she'd been murdered, you really had no choice.

CHAPTER TWO

Behold, Iowa? Kelly, my co-leader, asked with rising excitement. We need to go!

We?

My best friend since we were five had agreed to meet me for ice cream at Sugar Lips' Feeling Lucky House of Delights, a recent addition to our town founded by a woman who'd retired as a catalog copy writer for Victoria's Secret and Frederick's of Hollywood and named all of her confections after lingerie. She'd caused quite a scandal when she opened, but the ice cream was first-rate. What did I care if I was eating ice cream with names like Nude Pasties 'Nilla?

At present, I was wolfing down today's special, the Triple Nipple chocolate shake, while Kelly noshed on the Is That A Banana In Your Pants banana split. Doris, the owner, was getting a little carried away with names, and if she wasn't careful, she'd bring down the righteous fury of the Lutheran Ladies Auxiliary. Those women had no sense of humor where sex was concerned and once got the Use Your Potty potty-training song banned from the Methodist day care center for being too slutty. The issue concerned the word butt.

Why triple nipple? I asked as I studied the cup. Who has three nipples?

Kelly pointed. Because nipple rhymes with triple. I do like the three Hershey's Kisses topping off the whipped cream.

Yeah, me too, I said before popping all three into my mouth. After chewing, I continued. But why are you excited about Behold, Iowa? I've never even heard of it.

My best friend gave me an odd look. One of the best Scout camps in the Midwest is there. Camp des Morts is supposed to be amazing! We can take the girls.

Whoa. I'm only going for one day to find out what I need to do to get rid of the house.

Kelly ignored me as usual. I'll call the troop and arrange everything. We can stay at the camp. The season should be over, with it being August and all, so it shouldn't be a problem.

No way. Kelly, I'm not staying there. I'm coming back tomorrow right after the meeting with the attorney.

She paused, fingers hovering over her cell. You have to stay. You have to solve Aunt June's murder.

"I don't even know if she was murdered. All I've got is an urn. I doubt there was even an autopsy."

You're being selfish, Kelly said. Camp des Morts is the best in Iowa. Don't you want the girls to see that?

Of course I did. But this was the wrong reason to go. What's so great about it? And that name!

Kelly wiped her lips on a napkin. It's French, I think.

It means—I pointed my straw at her—Camp of Death.

She smiled. That explains it. It's perched on a series of bluffs. There are Indian burial mounds. And some say the surrounding woods are haunted.

I gave her a look. "You want to take our troop to a place where they might literally chase ghosts, accidentally fall off bluffs, and desecrate Indian burial mounds?"

Kelly thought about this. Yes. I really do. And then she began making phone calls.

There was nothing I could do but finish my shake.

My cell rang. It was my husband, Detective Rex Ferguson.

His first words were, Did someone die? He must've seen the urn on the table.

Yeah, about that. That's Aunt June. I've inherited her remains and have to go to someplace halfway across the state to meet with her attorney tomorrow to discuss what to do with her house and pet spiders.

Kelly froze and slowly turned toward me, cell phone against her ear. Spiders?

Rex paused for a second before asking, Did you say you inherited a house full of spiders?

I responded to both my husband and co-leader. Yeah. Apparently, she had pet spiders.

Kelly looked off into the distance for a moment. I knew she didn't like spiders. She wasn't necessarily afraid of them, but she didn't like them.

I'm okay with that. And she went back to her phone. All the more reason to stay at camp.

I told Rex about the letter and suggested that he read it.

A few seconds later, he sighed. That's all I need. For someone to give you the credibility of calling you a detective and invite you to solve their murder.

I wasn't quite sure how to take that. At least I wouldn't be interfering with one of your investigations.

That's true, he said a bit too cheerfully.

Then I told him about Kelly's plan to take the girls there. Tomorrow.

Kelly interrupted. I've got Inez, Ava, one of the Kaitlyns, Betty, and Lauren. The others all have plans.

That's only half the troop, I said.

It'll be easier to manage five. She waved me off.

I got up to pay the bill. I'd better get home and pack. Let me know when we are going.

Roger, Kelly said with a smile. Relax. This will be fun.

Did you hear that, honey? I asked Rex. Kelly says this will be fun.

My husband laughed and hung up.

CHAPTER THREE

The next day at two in the afternoon, with Kelly and five ten-year-olds who had been loudly singing camp songs for four hours, we pulled up to a sign that read Behold Behold! Home of the World's Largest Human Tooth! It actually read World's Largest Tooth, but someone had added a caret and hand printed the word Human. As if that made it better.

Wow! Ava squealed from the back seat for the one thousandth time since she had gotten in the car that morning. The world's largest human tooth!

We're going to see that, right, Mrs. Wrath? Lauren asked.

I didn't correct her. Since kindergarten, when we formed this troop, the girls had called me Mrs. Wrath—getting half my name right. Their argument was that any woman over the age of thirty was old and old women were married. In a way it kind of made sense.

Now that I really was a Mrs., but with Ferguson, it didn't seem worth fixing. Trying to correct little girls was a lot like teaching your cat to flamenco dance while learning Swahili. With exactly the same results.

Let's just get downtown and find someplace to eat before I meet with the lawyer, I suggested and drove on.

The town was right on the Mississippi River with a wall of bluffs on the northern border. From another sign, we learned that it had a population of 947. It looked like it. I grew up in a town of more than five thousand, but there were small towns like this one peppering the countryside.

This place was more like a ghost town. The buildings were weather-beaten and faded, as if it had been abandoned fifty years ago. Main Street consisted of eight dingy, peeling buildings, including the lawyer's office, a diner, a convenience store, a post office, a hair stylist, and three feed stores.

We pulled up to the diner and got out to stretch our legs. An Open sign hung from a nail over the door of Fancy Nancy's Home Cooking. It looked anything but fancy as the paint hung down to the sidewalk in strips.

Should we find someplace else to eat? Kelly bit her lip.

"We're starving!" Betty complained before walking through the door.

I was hungry too. You heard her. I turned and followed the girl inside.

To our surprise, the place was spotless and bright, with a black-and-white checked tile floor and tablecloths. The delectable scent of fried chicken filled the air, and my stomach responded with a loud rumble.

Hello there! A late-middle-aged woman with a purple beehive hairdo walked toward us. I'm Nancy! Come on in! You poor things look hungry!

She ushered us to a table for seven, and we sat as she plunked down cups of ice water and fresh-off-the-printer paper menus.

The lunch rush is over, but I've still got some of the best fried chicken in the state back in the kitchen. If you don't want that, I can fix up something else!

A happy woman who wanted to feed me? I liked her already.

We all opted for the fried chicken, although I wondered how she was going to accommodate five little girls' requests for two drumsticks each. Was she going to have to cook five chickens, or did they have some weird ten-footed chickens in the back?

Murl! she shouted in a deep voice that made me jump. Ten legs and two breasts!

I assumed she meant the chicken.

So where are you ladies from? Nancy beamed.

Who's There. Betty studied the woman. Why do you have the world's largest tooth…

Human tooth, Inez corrected.

Right. Betty nodded. Why do you have that here, and where is it?

Nancy ruffled the girl's hair, and I got ready to snatch the child back should she attack. You never knew with Betty. I had an unusual troop of very curious girls that included, among others, four Kaitlyn M.s (whom I couldn't tell apart) and Betty, a girl who practically qualified for the CIA already. The girl was all business and mostly interested in doing things she wasn't supposed to.

Well. Nancy tapped her chin with her pencil. Tubby Thorkelson had one bucktooth instead of two, and it was one whole inch long. When he died, the dentist over in Dubuque— She scrunched up her nose in disgust on the last word. That dentist pulled the tooth and sent it over to our mayor. Turns out Tubby left it to the town in his will.

That's cool. Betty considered this. I'm going to do that when I die. Only I'm leaving my spleen to the Who's There Historical Society.

Lauren, a tall, quirky kid who was usually Betty's partner in crime, spoke up, Why to the Historical Society?

Betty seemed surprised her bestie would ask. Because important things are historical.

Ava, who was very ambitious and wanted to be CEO of a major insurance company someday, asked, Why would your spleen be historical or important?

Betty leaned in. Because of what I'll do with my spleen. She leaned back. You'll see.

Inez, one of the smartest girls in the troop, ignored all of them and asked Nancy, Why did he leave the town his giant tooth?

Nancy responded, It was never specified. Some think he did it for revenge…you know, from being teased about it and all. She looked around the empty dining room and then leaned closer. Some think it has to do with the aliens. Nancy leaned back. But most of us think he just wanted to give us something to put us on the map.

Before Betty could ask about the aliens, I asked, Why would a giant tooth put you on the map?

Nancy waved me off. It wouldn't. We'd already had our brush with fame. You see, Behold was the first place in Iowa visited by Europeans.

Ava frowned. We learned in class that it was Dubuque.

Nancy narrowed her eyes at the girl. Her sunny disposition went to stormy in a moment. "No. It was us. That's why the town was named Behold. To tell the world to Behold Iowa. But those bastards in Dubuque jumped in and claimed it. They got the bridge and all the glory."

She did that thing again, scrunching up her nose when she mentioned the other town.

Suddenly, her mood lifted, and she was back in high spirits. Anyhoo, that's the story!

You didn't tell us where the tooth is, Kaitlyn said.

I was caught off guard. Sure, I'd heard each of the Kaitlyns talk before, but they seemed to like blending into this homogenous mass, and they all sounded the same in addition to looking like quadruplets. Having just one of them on this trip would be interesting.

Nancy patted the girl on the head. I forgot you asked! It's in the post office.

A man's voice grumbled something unintelligible from the back.

Right! Coming! Nancy hollered. "I'll be right back. And with that, she left us.

Aliens? Lauren asked. Can we see them after the tooth?

I looked at Kelly. I kind of wanted to know the answer to that myself.

We can see the tooth, she sighed. We can do it while Mrs. Ferguson is in her meeting with the lawyer.

Hey! I protested. I want to see the tooth too!

Kelly shook her head. Maybe later. You have to find out about the spider house you inherited and about the possible murder of its owner. Then we need to head to the Scout camp and check in.

Five little faces turned to me, mouths open. To be fair, there was a lot to process with Kelly's statement. It would probably be better to wait to mention the ghost camp with its Indian burial mounds.

Murder! Betty smacked her fist into her palm. I knew it! That's why we're here! Where do we start?

Maybe at the spider house? Lauren asked.

Ava folded her arms over her chest. "Someone else died around you?"

Of course not! Kaitlyn leaped to my defense. "They died here."

Thank you, I said.

Kaitlyn continued, Of course, Mrs. Wrath had something to do with it.

I choked on my water. Um, no. Actually, I didn't.

Inez asked, Who died?

Aunt June, I replied. But she's not an aunt. That's her first name…

Betty cut me off. Because her last name is June, right?

How did you know that? I asked.

She shrugged. It totally makes sense.

The other four girls agreed.

And she left Mrs. Wrath a note. Betty pulled the note from her pocket. I just haven't read it yet.

How did you get that? I snatched it away. Sure enough, it was the letter Aunt June had written.

The little girl looked at me as if I was an idiot. I have my ways.

You broke into my house, didn't you? I pocketed the letter.

Kelly interrupted as the food arrived. Let's eat, and then Mrs. Wrath can go meet the lawyer and we can see the giant tooth.

You're calling me Mrs. Wrath now? I asked, my mouth watering over the chicken breast with mashed potatoes and gravy that was set before me.

It just seems easier that way. Kelly dismissed my question and dug in.

It really was the best fried chicken in the state—tender and juicy with a light, seasoned breading. The seven of us oohed and moaned while we ate. I toyed with ordering seconds, but the clock on the wall told me I'd run out of time.

Pay the bill, I told Kelly. I'll text when I'm done with Nigel Hickenlooper.

Nigel? Kaitlyn asked.

Hickenlooper? Inez added.

The five girls exploded into a fit of giggles. I was out the door before I had to explain that too.

The very next building, on the same side of the street, was slightly less disheveled and had a huge sign that read Hickenlooper, Hickenlooper & Hickenlooper. This was the place. I opened the door and walked inside.

It was like walking through a portal into another dimension. Real wood-paneled walls framed the plush white carpet that felt more like walking on a cloud. A set of white leather chairs with stainless steel frames surrounded a table laden with Town &Country magazines. At the far end of the wall was a huge mahogany desk, and behind that desk was a very pretty young woman wearing a very expensive tailored dress.

Mrs. Ferguson? she purred in honeyed tones.

Yes. My eyes wandered to the original art on the walls. Good Lord! Was that a Picasso?

My name is Emmy. Please have a seat. The woman stood and indicated a leather-bound chair. Can I get you any tea, coffee, or artesian water?

No thanks. I settled in one of the white chairs. It was deceptively comfortable. Is that classical music? I pointed toward the ceiling even though I had no idea where the music was coming from.

Yes, of course, the receptionist said. If you will excuse me, I'll let Mr. Hickenlooper know you are here.

She vanished down the hallway.

What was with this town? The outsides of the buildings implied they'd been abandoned for decades. But inside they were posh, clean, and fabulous. Was it some sort of thing to spend a fortune on the insides but not so much as scrape the peeling paint off the outsides? It's almost as if the town wanted to dissuade anyone from stopping by.

Mrs. Ferguson. A short, forty-something man in a bespoke suit stood before me, arm outstretched. I hope your travels were not too uncomfortable. His posh British accent made me feel welcome and stupid all at the same time.

I got to my feet and shook his hand. It was fine. Thanks. I looked down at my T-shirt and shorts and felt severely underdressed.

This way, please. Hickenlooper turned and walked down the hall.

I fell in behind him, staring at the endless framed award certificates that covered the wall on my right. How could he win all of these awards in a town this small? Beside the diplomas from the University of Iowa and American Bar Association citations were seven Small Town Mayor of the Year awards and a painting of a large, colorful Victorian home that couldn't possibly exist within ten miles of this shabby village.

After you. The lawyer stopped and motioned for me to go inside. Please take a seat.

I did so while studying him. Clean-shaven with brown hair, he was younger than I'd thought from his voice on the phone. He looked like he belonged in a bank in London, not here.

Mr. Hickenlooper. I paused, waiting for him to ask me to call him Nigel. He didn't. I went on. I have to ask. What are you doing here in Behold?

The man sat back in his chair, considering me. His blank face told me nothing. He would've been an excellent spy.

My father moved here in the 1950s. Both of my parents are deceased and buried here. My brothers and I decided to stay.

Ah, the second and third Hickenloopers, I said, thinking of the sign out front.

He shook his head. No, I'm the only one.

But your firm is called… I started.

He finished, Yes, I know. There are three Hickenloopers. I'll admit I took a few liberties with the name. It seemed more professional that way. But they're all simply me.

What do your brothers do? I looked around, even though I knew they weren't there.

He looked as if he was bored by the question. You'll see them around, I am sure. Now can we get to the matter at hand?

I clapped my hands together. Okay. Why don't you start at the beginning?

Nigel looked confused. "The beginning? I'm afraid I don't understand. Why wouldn't I start at the beginning? I'll never understand you Americans."

But you're an American. It's just a… Words failed me. He was born and grew up here, even with the accent. Wasn't he technically an American too? Never mind. Fill me in on Aunt June.

Hickenlooper opened the only folder on his desk, took out a piece of paper, and slid it toward me. I took it and read.

It says I inherit her house. That was all that was on the page. It literally said The house, the land, and everything in and on it goes to Mrs. Merry Czrygy Ferguson of Who's There, Iowa.

That is correct, Nigel said. The house and all of its contents now belong to you.

All of its contents? Does that mean the spider collection too?

He nodded solemnly. All of the furniture, tchotchkes, etcetera.

I repeated, What about the spiders?

Ah. About that. Nigel was quiet for a moment before proceeding. Ms. June had a very dangerous collection. And they weren't all spiders. He handed me another sheet of paper from the file.

The sheet was an inventory of potential death and destruction, bug-sized.

There's a funnel spider from Australia, Nigel went on to say. A black widow and brown recluse from the US, of course.

Of course. I nodded as if I wasn't panicking inside.

A deathstalker scorpion, an assassin caterpillar, and a golden poison dart frog.

I studied the images on the sheet of paper. It says that a single golden frog's secretions has enough poison to kill 1,500 people!

Yes. That would take out the whole town and then some, Nigel said.

Had Aunt June been thinking of taking out Behold? Why did she have this collection?

Nigel shrugged. No one knows. He started to hand me another piece of paper, but I waved him away.

Never mind. I cut to the chase. How do I donate all of this…stuff? Is there a zoo or museum that would take them?

He took the pieces of paper back, put them in the folder, and closed it. Yes, well, I'm working on that.

Thank you, I sighed. That was a relief.

Aunt June wanted to make your inheritance contingent upon the forever upkeep of these creatures but in the end decided it might make you turn down the house and property.

I was planning on selling the house as soon as I could but decided not to tell him that for the time being. Mr. Hickenlooper, Aunt June gave me a letter with her remains.

He nodded. Yes. She wants you to find out who murdered her.

So he'd read the letter. Do you think she was murdered?

Nigel sighed. She succumbed to one of the venomous creatures in her collection.

I guess that made sense. What did the autopsy say?

The man looked me in the eyes. There was no autopsy. Aunt June wanted to be cremated as soon as possible.

No autopsy? That seemed unusual, unless she had been very old and they decided it was natural causes.

Was there an attending doctor? I asked. Who signed the death certificate?

That would be Dr. Morgan. Nigel wrote a number on a piece of paper and handed it to me. His office is across the street in Morgan Seed and Feed. You can't miss it.

Why did he write it down if it was across the street and I couldn't miss it?

I took it all in. Why would she insist on my solving her murder if she wasn't murdered?

Nigel rolled his eyes very poshly. The woman was a bit barmy. Barking mad. Perhaps she wanted a little excitement.

She's dead. How would she have any excitement?

Exactly. He reached into a drawer and pulled out a key ring with one key on it. Here you go. The house is the large brown and blue Victorian at the end of the street. If you have any questions, please call me. I believe you have my number.

The house in the painting in the hall? I turned to look through the doorway.

Yes, he said. It's the most expensive house in town. Is there anything else? As you can see, I am quite busy at the moment.

I looked around and thought of the empty reception area before getting to my feet and shaking his hand. Thank you. I'll be in touch.

Outside, I tried to wrap my head around all the things he'd said. Hickenlooper didn't believe Aunt June had been murdered. There'd been no autopsy. She had a collection of insanely dangerous pets. Maybe this was a no-brainer. It seemed highly likely that Aunt June wasn't murdered after all. Nigel had said she was crazy. As her lawyer, he would know better than I did. Still, I should talk to the doctor at least.

Across the street, the girls were coming out of the post office. Damn. It was too late to see the tooth. I'd have to check it out another time. And I'd really wanted to see it.

That was amazing! Inez jumped up and down as I joined them.

It was huge! Kaitlyn enthused.

Lauren agreed. I was impressed. I wonder if he was part beaver?

Ava gushed, You have to see it, Mrs. Wrath!

We all turned to Betty, who was strangely silent.

The girl yawned. I've seen better.

Kelly motioned to the van. Come on, ladies. We have to get to the camp.

She started driving, casting occasional glances my way.

How was the meeting?

Weird. I explained everything but the killer creatures.

And the spiders?

I'll tell you about that later. I gestured toward the back seat with my eyes.

Okay, she said before shouting into the back seat. Who wants to go to Camp des Morts?

CHAPTER FOUR

It says here—Lauren was in the back seat on her cell—that there are Indian burial mounds shaped like animals!

Which animals? Ava asked.

Snakes, bears, fish, easy stuff, Lauren replied. We'll have to make our own.

Yes! Kaitlyn roared enthusiastically.

We'll need a body… Inez suggested.

The girls buzzed in the background, eagerly making plans that I was pretty sure I didn't want to know about.

What arrangements did you make for us? I asked Kelly as the girls discussed shapes for their burial mounds, which included manatees and aardvarks and Bigfoot.

We have the small lodge. Kelly smiled. It has a room with bunk beds, a kitchen, and a fire pit out back.

I looked out at the landscape. We were ascending the bluffs. That's good.

The troop's favorite activity, besides naming animals, was fire-starting. My girls could get a roaring fire going in mere seconds with only one match. We'd come a long way from a couple of years ago when we'd go through an entire box just to get kindling started.

Did you bring food? I asked. Why hadn't I thought of that before? Was I supposed to bring stuff?

I packed sleeping bags, toilet paper—all the important stuff. We'll get food in town. Did you see a grocery store?

Just that convenience store. I noticed we were pulling up to a giant totem pole. That it?

Kelly nodded. Someone is supposed to meet us at the lodge.

We drove onto a winding gravel road that divided lush green forest on either side before coming into a large open area. There was a small lodge and a larger one, several campsites, a zip line, and a high ropes course.

No pool? Inez sounded dejected. Not having a pool was like not having s'mores—a terrifying prospect at best.

No pool. But they have something even better, Kelly said. A lazy river to tube on.

This seemed to be acceptable, as there was an eruption of glee from the back seats.

The camp looked like a staged postcard, with gentle rolling hills surrounded by forest. A short, plump, smiling woman was waiting for us as we pulled up to a large, log-style building.

Hello! She waved cheerily as we disembarked. My name is Toad. I'm the camp director.

Toad? I asked. She looked to be near sixty. Had she been called that her whole life?

She laughed. Oh, I forgot. It's my camp name. Whenever I'm here I use it. And since camp ended a week ago, I keep forgetting I have another name.

Betty stepped up. I'm Cobra. She pointed to Lauren, Ava, Inez, and Kaitlyn in that order and named off, Asp, Rattler, Blackadder, and Viper.

We'd never had camp names before. And why did she pick snakes? The other kids didn't seem surprised by this, so I guessed it was all set up in advance. That was typical of my troop. There were a lot of things I found out about after the fact—some of them not dangerous.

Toad beamed, apparently not startled by the deathly quintet. That's nice! She looked at Kelly and me. And your names?

Oh, um, Kelly. I pointed at my co-leader then myself. And I'm Merry.

Toad's face fell.

We don't really have code names, I said.

Camp names, Kelly corrected.

Right. What she said.

That's too bad, Toad tut-tutted. It's always more fun at camp with camp names.

The girls gave us stony looks.

Guys, I'll never remember your camp names. Hell, I was thrilled to have only one Kaitlyn.

Kelly added, Besides, we are only here a few days.

Whatever you want to do is fine by me. Let's go inside. Toad led us through a set of glass double doors.

The lodge was just as impressive on the inside. From the stone tile floor to the log walls and the high, timbered ceilings, this looked more like a model of what a lodge should be. A huge stone fireplace was in the corner, surrounded by overstuffed, comfy-looking chairs.

Toad said, The kitchen is stocked with cutlery, dishes, and cookware. Did you bring food?

We need to do that next. Is there a place in Behold where we can manage that? Kelly asked.

She shook her head. Just the convenience store.

We'll just run to Dubuque, then, I said.

Toad's face hardened. I know that Sin City is closer, but you should really go to Guttenberg. It's only half an hour away.

I guess the rivalry with Dubuque transcended centuries and town limits.

Oh, okay, I said.

Toad went back to smiling. The kitchen is over here.

With stainless, state-of-the-art appliances and mahogany cupboards, the kitchen did not look like it was for actual use.

Kelly said you have a fire pit? I asked.

Of course! Toad said. You can't have s'mores without a fire pit! We'll end the tour there.

Toad led us through the rest of the lodge, explaining that this wasn't the main lodge, which held the cafeteria and art rooms. This one is for younger Scouts who may have trouble transitioning from home to their first time at camp.

From the kitchen, we moved on to a room with twelve bunk beds. The girls squealed and began climbing them while Toad showed us a fully functioning bathroom, shower, and then the fire pit outside.

Wow. I took it all in. This is a fabulous setup! Certainly better than staying in the spider house, a place I was going to check out tomorrow. I needed to get this investigation started. From what Nigel told me, there might not have been a murder after all, and then I could sell the place and go home.

Toad beamed again. Thank you! We try. So—she pulled a map from her pocket—here's the lazy river. You'll find inner tubes in the shed on the little beach. The water is quite cold, I'm afraid, as it comes from a spring in the bluffs. And it's about three feet deep. She frowned for a moment. I assume one of you has lifeguarding experience?

We hadn't thought of that.

Yes, I lied. And Kelly is a former emergency room nurse, and I've had camp training.

The woman stared at us intently, and for a moment, I worried that I'd said the wrong thing.

Wonderful! She clapped her hands before pointing at the map. And here's the mud pit. There's a hose attached to a stone shelter so that you can make it muddier. And there are showers on the outside of the shelter to rinse off.

Kelly studied the map. What about the Indian burial mounds?

Toad hesitated. Well, be careful around them. They're over five hundred years old, and you shouldn't go there after dark.

Because of the safety risk… Kelly nodded.

No, dear, because of the ghosts.

CHAPTER FIVE

Real ghosts? Kelly's voice dripped with doubt.

Of course! What other kind are there? Toad looked at us as if we were simpletons. After all, the camp was named Camp des Morts because of the burial mounds.

What kind of paranormal activity, I said, trying to find the words, have you experienced here?

Oh! Toad thought about this. The usual. Apparitions, disembodied conversations, poltergeists. We get the lot.

Isn't that dangerous? Kelly struggled to say.

Was she afraid of ghosts? I wasn't. My philosophy was simple. If you can't shoot them, they can't hurt you. Or was that my philosophy on Russian secret agents? I couldn't remember.

Only if they chase you off the cliff, Toad said as if she was telling us about the weather. But that hasn't happened in, oh, I don't know, five years? She leaned toward us. They're better than the aliens.

What? That was the second person today to mention aliens.

She acted as if I hadn't said anything. Well, I'll let you all get settled. My number is on the kitchen counter. I live in town, but the ranger is here all year.

That's funny. I didn't see a house as we drove up, Kelly pointed out.

He has a shack in the woods. She opened the map and pointed at a small building on one of the bluffs. His name is Ned. He's recently experienced some hardship, so please don't bother him unless you have to.

Do we have his number too?

No. Ned doesn't have a phone. You have to use the walkie-talkies in the communications lounge.

I noticed something on the map. Is there only one way into camp?

Yes. You can only come and go the way you've come. The bluffs would be the only other way out. She burst out laughing. "Or should I say down?"

And with that, she went back into the lodge. She was gone before we went back inside.

How did you find out this was the best camp in the state? I teased. "Did you see it in Paranormal Quarterly Magazine?"

Kelly seemed defensive. It's what I'd heard…from other people.

What other people? I pressed.

Kelly changed the subject. It's late, and we have to get food.

Are you worried about the ghosts?

Don't be ridiculous! she said, but her eyes darted around nervously. But since it isn't safe to go out at night, we'll stick to the lodge.

Good luck with that, I said before I was mobbed by little girls.

Are we going on a night hike? Lauren asked. I want to see the burial mounds at night!

No! Kelly said a bit too sharply. I mean, it's dangerous at night. Toad said it's easy to fall off one of the bluffs.

Nobody moaned or complained. It made me very suspicious. Obviously, I was going to have to stand guard at night. My troop had a history of doing whatever they wanted—damn the consequences.

Alright! Kelly clapped her hands together. It's getting to be almost dinnertime, and we have groceries to get!

Where are we going? Ava asked as we walked out to the van.

What do you think? Kelly asked me. That convenience store in town or the unmentionable city of Dubuque?

I knew what I wanted. If I had my way, we'd eat every meal at Fancy Nancy's.

A cheer went up. Apparently, the girls agreed.

We're only here a few nights. Kelly bit her lip. The girls have so much fun cooking.

Betty shook her head. "That's the other Kaitlyns, Hannah, and Caterina. They like cooking."

Lauren piped up. Not us.

Ava added, And they aren't here.

We got in and closed the doors to the van. It wouldn't hurt to have dinner there tonight, would it? Maybe I could get some intel on what happened to Aunt June.

Yes! Betty slammed her fist into her palm. That's what I'm talking about!

We could split up and infiltrate! Ava agreed.

No one is infiltrating or splitting up. I held up my hands. I'm doing the investigating. If you guys behave, I might share what I find out.

Lauren didn't seem to like this arrangement. But we helped you before! Like at that mystery house!

And at the Civil War reenactment, Inez added.

And the time we swiped your van and rescued you! Betty said.

Kelly's eyebrows went up. Swiped your van? They drove?

Look. I decided not to answer. It's been a very long day. We drove three and a half hours, had lunch, I met with the lawyer, you got to see the world's largest tooth…

Human tooth, Kaitlyn interrupted.

Kelly got in on the act. And we've checked into our camp.

We still have to get groceries and settle in for the night. I left out the part where I'd be staying up all night standing guard. With these girls' records, it was probably a given.

Fine, Betty said. But let's get food first. I'm not hungry yet.

"Maybe we can get everything at that convenience store?" Kelly suggested.

We might as well give it a shot, I agreed.

The Glory of Gas Station and Car Wash looked a little better on the outside than the other decrepit buildings on Main. We parked, piled out, and flowed inside.

And like every other place in town, the inside of the building was surreal. It practically sparkled. No, it literally sparkled. And it had the best selection I'd ever seen at a convenience store, and I'd been to a gas station in Dubai that had a solid gold slushie machine.

Hello! Nigel appeared, dressed more casually in khaki slacks, polished loafers, and a shirt and tie. Can I help you?

Oh! Mr. Hickenlooper, I said, introducing the lawyer to Kelly before asking, Do you moonlight here?

The man laughed easily. I'm afraid you are mistaken. I'm Hal, Nigel's brother. I own this business.

You look just like him, I said. Twins?

He shook his head. Triplets. We have another brother—Basil. You'll see him around.

That's what Nigel had said. Should we call you Mr. Hickenlooper too? I tried to keep the sarcasm out of my voice. I mean, really, this was the Midwest. And yet, I was held back by manners and couldn't bring myself to call him Hal to his face, unless he invited me to.

Nigel is such a prude. You may and should call me Hal.

Thanks, Hal. I grinned.

So. Hal rubbed his hands together. What can I do for you ladies?

Are you from England? Betty studied him.

My parents were from there. They came here before I was born, he responded respectfully to the girls, and I liked him for that.

Then why do you have an English accent if you were never born there? Lauren asked.

Hal shrugged. I'm not really sure. Good question. You girls are pretty smart to notice that.

I introduced myself and Kelly then the girls.

Those aren't our names, Inez said. Our names are Asp, Viper, Blackadder, Rattler, and Cobra.

We haven't agreed to that, I broke in. Mostly because I couldn't remember who was whom.

Camp names! Hal grinned. You ladies must be Girl Scouts!

We are, Kelly interjected. We're staying at Camp des Morts.

I toyed with mentioning Aunt June but decided against it…for now.

You want supplies, then. Hal produced a cart and pushed it toward us. If there's anything you need but can't find, please don't hesitate to ask.

A chime went off as a car pulled up to one of the gas pumps. Hal excused himself.

Kelly gave the girls instructions to find bread, peanut butter, hot dogs, and hot dog buns, and they ran off to do that. The convenience store was large for a place like this, but then, if it was the only place to get groceries besides going into the town-that-must-not-be-named, it made sense. Kelly and I went to look for condiments.

He has five kinds of hummus, she pointed out. And four kinds of pesto. How does a place like this manage with a town this small?

Not a clue, but I'm glad we didn't have to go to—I looked around and lowered my voice—Dubuque.

Kelly laughed. Now you're doing it!

I put a package of Oreos in the cart. I figure it's probably a local law or something by this point.

It didn't take long for us to find everything we needed. The girls ran back and forth dumping things into the cart. On their last trip, I noticed they were all wearing name tags, hanging from a lanyard, with their camp name on them.

Where did you get those? I reached out and touched Kaitlyn's tag.

They're laminated! Kelly said. They look expensive.

Hal gave them to us. He made them, Ava explained. Now you have no excuse to forget who is who.

Well, we're still not calling you Rattler, I insisted.

We made our way to the checkout, and Hal rang up and bagged everything.

You guys know about the ghosts, right? He winked at the girls.

You could hear a pin drop.

We…we hadn't told them about that yet, Kelly said, mouthing the word Impressionable.

Oh, right. Hal winked again.

What about the ghosts? Inez asked.

It's just something Toad said would be a good campfire story, I said quickly.

The girls seemed to hold a conference only with their eyes. Things were decided, I presumed based on their nods to each other. I felt a little left out. When had they developed telepathy?

We've decided we want to hear the story now, please. Kaitlyn managed to demand and use manners at the same time.

Kelly and I looked at each other then at Hal.

Well, you know about the burial mounds, right? Hal waited for them to nod.

This is a bad idea, Kelly whispered to me.

Shhh… I held a finger to my lips. I want to hear the story.

Hal began, About 50,000 years ago, the Iowa Indians lived up on those bluffs. At one time, there was a chief named Red Hawk and his daughter Badger Tooth, who were much beloved by their tribe. The Indian princess was sixteen and nearing marriageable age. Her father, the chief, wanted her to marry a young brave from the tribe, but Badger Tooth had no interest in that.

Why did they name her Badger Tooth? It's not very pretty, Kaitlyn interrupted.

You're right, Hal conceded. It wasn't a pretty name. It was given to her because she was so tough and brave.

Okay, Betty decided, if it can't be Sparkly Unicorn, we'll take Badger Tooth.

I'm glad you agree, Hal said seriously. Years passed, and Chief Red Hawk grew older. He wanted Badger Tooth to lead the tribe after him, but since she wasn't interested in getting married or having children, he was worried that his line would die out.

What does that mean? Inez asked. How can a line die out?

Ava spoke up. By erasing it with an eraser, of course.

Hal didn't miss a beat. So without any heirs, there would be braves fighting to rule. And Red Hawk only wanted peace. He demanded Badger Tooth choose a husband and have children.

That's mean! Kaitlyn cried out.

Yes, it is, Hal said. The princess made him a deal. If any of the young men in the tribe could beat her in a footrace, he could have her as his wife.

I like where this is going. Lauren nodded.

Shhh, I found myself saying. Let the man finish, please.

Hal smiled. On the day of the race, they set a course that would start at the banks of the Mississippi, right where Aunt June lived. He gave me a look. I guess he knew who I was. The race wound up the bluffs, ending where the ceremonial burial mounds are now. Three men decided to compete. And when they had all assembled at the river, the chief gave the signal, and the princess and the three young braves took off running.

He paused dramatically. We were all leaning in, wanting to hear the rest of the story.

What happened? Inez pleaded. Who won the race?

As the race started up the bluffs, one of the braves caught up to Badger Tooth, who was in the lead.

Naturally, Betty said.

He tried to push her aside as he gained on her, but he tripped on a rock and fell off the cliff into the river. He was never seen again.

That's the ghost! Ava gasped.

Hal went on. Not long after, the second brave caught up to her. And since he didn't see anyone else, he thought he was winning. As he passed Badger Tooth on the outside of the path, it gave way, and he too fell off the cliff and died.

Two ghosts! Lauren clapped her hands.

What happened next? I inquired.

The last fifty feet of the race lay ahead, Hal stated. And the last man caught up to Badger Tooth. He knew he'd started out last, and he also realized he hadn't passed by the other two. Since the princess was faster than they were, he had an idea of what had happened. He decided that going around her was too dangerous.

Because she pushed them off the cliff, Betty said with a shrug.

That may be true, Hal said. We will never know. But the third brave, whose name was Two Owls, was the smartest in the tribe. He came up behind the princess, scooped her up, and threw her over his shoulder, all while running. Badger Tooth punched, bit, and scratched him, but he wouldn't put her down until the end of the race. Just before the finish line, he gently set her down on her backside and then won the race before she could get to her feet.

That was smart! I whistled. So Badger Tooth married Two Owls, and the other two men are the ghosts.

Hal grinned. There are three ghosts. The princess married Two Owls. And right after she gave birth to twins—one girl and one boy—Two Owls fell off the bluff and died.

She killed him? Ava, who loved a happily ever after story, was horrified.

Badger Tooth didn't want to share rule with any man, Hal said. And rightly so. When she had her little prince and princess, she decided she didn't need him anymore. It was never proven that she killed him or any of the others. But she was a well-respected leader, so no one thought anything of it.

But she was a killer! Kelly finally declared.

Things might have been different to them back in the day, Hal eased. He was really sweet with all of us. The story is, late at night, you can see the ghosts of the three young men running up the cliff and falling to their deaths.

We burst into applause, and Hal took a little bow.

That's a great story! Lauren shouted.

We're totally having a night hike tonight! Kaitlyn insisted.

"I like