Murder at the Magical Bookshop: The Story Keeper's Paranormal Cozy Mysteries, #1

By Emory Keller

When Destiny comes knocking, you can either say 'hello' or spend the rest of your life running. Let's say I've never been much for exercise.
 

'Welcome to the beautiful town of Elkin, Washington,' I read the sign silently to myself as I stepped off the ferry and onto my Pacific Northwest Island home.

I just inherited the family bookshop from my grandma. The catch: Grandma was murdered and I think I'm next.
 
With the killer hot on my trail, I have to stay sharp to stay one step ahead. Thank God, I have Vardon. He would rather die than let me go it alone. And it feels so good to see Charlie again, though I would never say it. I can see him looking at me the way he did in high school. 

But when another body is found, it's not just human friends who show up to help. A mysterious stranger, a protective cat-shifter, and even the powerful secrets hidden within the bookshop all step up around me.

As the clouds gather and reality begins to fray at the edges, I have a choice to make: retreat back into my old life or embrace my destiny. With the fate of my home hanging in the balance, I know in my heart that there's only one path forward. But can I find the courage to take it?

One thing's for sure: Grandma would be proud. If I could see her one more time, she'd know exactly what to do. 

Hold onto your hats, my friends! I can feel a storm in the air, and this one is a doozy.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Emory Keller
• Release date: Apr 4, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215682166

Book preview

Murder at the Magical Bookshop

The Story Keeper's Paranormal Cozy Mysteries Book 1

Emory Keller

Heel Hook Publishing

Copyright © 2023 by Heel Hook Publishing

All rights reserved.

No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the publisher's prior written permission, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law. For permission requests, contact [include publisher/author contact info].

The story, all names, characters, and incidents portrayed in this production are fictitious. No identification with actual persons (living or deceased), places, buildings, and products is intended or should be inferred.

Co-authors: Kara Zone, Rebecca Silva-Faville

Book Cover and Illustrations by Chris Hunter

1st edition 2023

Contents

1.Prologue

2.A Key to Your Heart . . . Or Maybe a Book

3.Kitty Kat & Sicky Shoes

4.Black Coffee & Magic Party

5.Real Estate & Lies

6.Bodies & Books

7.The Self-Destruct Button

8.Pirates, Swords, & Smells of Humanity

9.You Were Stabbed!

10.Off to the Morgue, Again . . .

11.Florence Solace Is Dead

12.The Magic Is Back!

13.Walk the Lines

14.Salt, Pepper, Ketchup, Magic

15.Limp as a Wet Newspaper

16.Magic at the End of the Street

17.Snuffed into Darkness

18.Pit of Nothing

19.Bye, Bye, Bye

20.After Everything

1

Prologue

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Y -you’ll . . . never . . . f-find . . . it . . . Florence Solace’s final words cleaved through the air. She crooked one arthritic finger toward him.

Her murderer rolled his eyes and sneered down. Dying people say the darndest things, don’t they? He stepped over her. I am tired of waiting for your light to go out, Florence. It’s time to let go.

He despised everything she represented. And when the fireball appeared in his palm, he made it white with hatred.

A sinister smile spread across his face. He summoned every bit of his malice as he hurled the flaming ball into Florence’s chest, right through her heart.

Her body jolted with the impact. The last of her slipped away.

Good riddance. He spat on her. He spun on the ball of his foot and walked away.

I will win. She has no one to protect her now.

The murderer stepped out the door and dashed into the night.

2

A Key to Your Heart . . . Or Maybe a Book

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M iss? Miss!

I turned to see a short man running after me. If he wasn’t so unassuming, I might have been concerned. As it stood, I was a little too distracted to realize that monsters can come in all shapes and sizes.

I stopped and waited for him to catch up. When he did, his heaving breaths caused him to bend over as he tried to catch them.

I watched him through tinted lenses due to the fact that my tears had barely stopped the last three days. I hadn’t wanted everyone in town to see my red-rimmed eyes.

Getting a call that my grandmother was murdered in her place of business was a shock to my system, and I still hadn’t recovered from it. Knowing how loved and loving Florence Solace was brought another layer of devastation flowing through my veins.

Florence was the lifeblood of Elkin. And my hero.

Yes? I croaked. My throat was dry, and it hurt.

I made a note to stop by the local coffee shop before heading home.

Not that coffee would help, but it was a comfort I didn’t want to live without even though my grandmother and I practically lived there.

I wasn’t sure how I would step foot in it without Florence. But it seemed like a sacrilege not to go in her memory.

It had just been my grandmother and me since I was seven years old. A sharp sob of sadness shuddered from my chest. The memory of my mother' death compounding on top of Florence’s made me realize how alone I was now.

The man balanced his hands on his knees and stayed like that for a few moments, breathing heavily. Grief had rubbed my emotions raw, and if I’d had any energy left, I may have become annoyed. As it stood, the heartache thrumming through my system sapped every other emotion out of me.

I watched as he seemed to take an obscene amount of time gathering his breath.

Eventually, the short man righted himself. He blinked his leafy green eyes and I was taken aback at how much they reminded me of a spring day. They were so large and shined so brightly, they were like the sun.

I think you dropped this. He extended his arm and released a key into the palm of my hand. The metal was cool against my skin, but was feather-light for how ornate it was. As I stood there examining it, a warm glow pulsed from the metal.

The halo of gold radiated out over my hand, up my arms, and into my stomach. Tilting my head, I swore I could hear the beating of a heart.

Then, as the breeze blew by, the sound was gone and the scent of fresh-cut grass swirled around.

I stopped.

There was no reason for it to smell like mowed lawn. I’d come to Elkin at night, in the middle of fall. I shook it off; I was exhausted and overwhelmed by everything that had gone on.

The key in my hand was large and gold, dotted with green, blue, and red gems along the top of the intricately swirling metal. Attached through a loop was a gossamer blue ribbon. I blinked.

I’m sorry, sir. This isn’t mine . . . Stopping mid-sentence, I looked around the landing. No one was there. Except for the key dangling from my hand, there was no evidence that anyone else had been present.

Weird. Blowing out a long sigh, I ran my fingers through my hair and stuffed the key into the pocket of my jean jacket.

Pushing through the ferry station doors, I closed my eyes and inhaled the scent of Elkin. My heart swelled at the familiar smells of paint, turpentine, and cinnamon, all mingling with the salty air of the sea.

This tiny town of Elkin, Washington, was an artist's dream, and people from all over the world would come to create or buy art in any form be it baked goods, crafts, sculptures, paintings, and more.

Some of the people stayed.

It created a population of creativity and an eclectic environment where everyone could be themselves, no matter how unique.

Everyone had a place here.

Some things never change. As a smile perked over my lips, I remembered the town’s folk and their unique sensibilities. I traveled the world and hadn’t found a more eclectic group of personalities.

I loved it here.

A pang shot through my heart. My grandmother wouldn’t be part of that community anymore. I would never see her again, and I was already torn about being home. Tears spilled over my lids. I’m such a brat, I whispered to myself. Crap.

I hadn’t been able to go back to see my grandmother for a long time. Every week we spoke with one another but talking through text or video chat wasn’t the same as being there in person.

My work in the Peace Corps kept me away from my town and family, but I also got to see the world, have adventures, and help people. While growing up in such an amazing place gave me a wonderful family in the townspeople, I’d always wanted to experience more. Joining the Peace Corps was a way I could live in real moments by learning as much as I could about every culture, and I was on my way to doing just that.

Now, Florence was gone. I would never get to tell my grandmother another amazing thing about what I’d seen, experienced, eaten, and learned.

I rubbed the wetness from my cheeks, took hold of my luggage, and walked away from the ferry station doors onto the boardwalk.

The leaves were changing colors, and the crisp autumn weather greeted me like an old pal, a perfect reminder of home.

Sophie Solace, a voice boomed.