Murder at the Summer Solstice Sleuthfest: A Ginny Jomes Alaskan Cozy Mystery Series, #1

By Bebe Steiner

Meet Moose Peak, Alaska's retired elementary school teacher, Ginny Jomes. That's Jomes with an "M". Book club maven, owner of a faithful miniature dachshund … and mystery solver.

Step into the charming town of Moose Peak, Alaska, and meet the witty and determined Ginny Jomes, a retired elementary school teacher turned silver-haired amateur sleuth. With her trusty miniature dachshund by her side and her best friends, the Moose Peak Mavens, Ginny is ready to start life again after being recently widowed.

On the opening morning of the annual Summer Solstice Sleuthfest writing convention a dead body is found in the Moose Peak Mountain Lodge's new eco-tram. When fellow Maven and lodge owner Donna Matthews becomes the prime suspect, Ginny knows she has to save Donna. With the help of her book club - the Moose Peak Mavens, a talented writer with a murky past attending the conference and her trust mini dachshund, Ginny sets out to find the real killer. But will she become his next target?

 

Approximately 60,000 words; 49 Chapters.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Flying Dachshund Publishing
• Release date: Jun 12, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223133483

Bebe Steiner

Bebe Steiner grew up devouring Encyclopedia Brown Boy Detective novels and wondering where the books were that depicted girl detectives. From her home in Anchorage, Alaska, where she has lived for almost two decades, she now writes books that depict women detectives that look like the women she knows with an added dash of humor and Alaskan authenticity. You can find her at https://bebesteiner.comAnd connect with her on FB at https://www.facebook.com/bebesteinerauthor

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

As I pull into the parking lot of the Moose Peak Mountain Lodge, I can’t help but feel a sense of relief that the fog of death is finally lifting from my life. It’s as if the mist lifting from the mountain peaks is a metaphor for the lightness finally coming back into my life. I know I sound melodramatic, but I don’t care. For the first time in months, I feel almost happy, and I relish the feeling.

In the distance, the tram car churns, and the excitement of the guests riding to the top of the mountain doesn’t bother me like it used to. I can even imagine myself experiencing that kind of joy again - someday.

The lodge, nestled in the Chugach Mountains of Alaska, just above the base of Moose Peak, is surrounded by Sitka spruce and paper birch trees. The smell of coffee and smoky wood fires, with a hint of pine permeates the air. As I get out of the car, I promptly trip over my purse strap and roll my eyes at my own clumsiness. Grabbing my bag, I zip up my favorite purple fleece-lined vest against the chill of the mountain, still present in the air even near the end of June. Polly is eager to get out of her car seat and stretch her legs.

Good morning, Ginny, Donna calls as she waves from the massive front doors of the lodge. Coffee’s ready and waiting for you.

I’m going to walk Polly for a minute, and then we’ll come inside.

Just be careful, she warns. A guest spotted a black bear near the trash cans earlier this morning. I think he’s gone, but you never know.

Giving her a thumbs up, I reach in and grab my bear spray from the middle console, getting bathed in doggie kisses in the process. The thrill and fear of encountering a bear always keep me on high alert in the woods surrounding our town of Moose Peak.

I know, I know, you’re excited. Polly wags her tail as I clip on the leash and scoop her out of my Subaru Forester.

Slamming the door, I glance back at the lodge as Donna disappears inside. The grandeur of the mountain washes over me, its silent strength a constant fixture in my life. I stop to watch a bald eagle soar overhead against the cerulean blue sky. It’s summer days like these that keep me living in Alaska.

Polly, my miniature dachshund, thinks she’s a sled dog as she strains against her harness, eager to explore the nearby trails. The lodge boasts a myriad of hiking trails for guests and town folks alike, and we hike them regularly.

Not today, girl. I’m sorry. Polly stops pulling, turns and cocks her head as if asking why. We promised Donna we’d help her with the press release about the new eco-tram before the Sleuthfest kicks off. We don’t have time for a long hike right now. Maybe later.

She raises her eyebrows, contemplating my answer. Satisfied, she turns around and sniffs at the fireweed and forget-me-nots lining the side of the trailhead.

Donna always ensures that the groundskeepers cut back the dangerous cow parsnip and devil’s club from the trail edge on the lodge property, so it’s easy to avoid. I’m sure it’s bad for business if a guest comes in from a hike with a painful cow parsnip burn from brushing against the stuff. Or worse yet, an armful of devil’s club spikes from touching the thorny bushes that inhabit Alaskan forests.

Handling her business, Polly trots towards the lodge, wagging her tail in anticipation. She loves seeing Donna and spending time with Donna’s Siamese cat, Baldwin.

The lodge is a magnificent four-story stone and log structure that supports vaulted ceilings and features a massive fireplace.

Donna Matthews owns the Moose Peak Mountain Lodge and we’ve been having our weekly coffee chats here since she renovated the place about ten years ago. It was falling into disrepair when she bought it, but now it’s the economic backbone of Moose Peak.

The lodge is a four-story main building that sits on a rocky outcropping, as if the mountain is offering a comfortable place to rest. The stone and log structure supports vaulted ceilings and features a massive fireplace. An open staircase with a burl wood, hand-carved railing leads to the substantial dining room on the second floor.

Guest rooms occupy the second, third, and fourth floors, each with their own small balcony to enjoy the view. Massive windows at the front of the building reveal a breathtaking view of Bearpaw Lake and the town of Moose Peak.

The first-floor lounge is a large open area surrounding the fireplace. Overstuffed, deep brown leather chairs, couches, and handmade rugs fill the space, creating cozy conversation spots. The aromas of coffee, tea, and cinnamon fill the air, tickling my nose as I walk through. The guests are settled in reading their newspapers and novels. Warm beverages and baked goods sit on the side tables next to them. The waitstaff bustle around taking orders and topping up mugs.

I wave to Olivia Brandt, one of my former students who works at the lodge. Olivia is a slender woman now in her mid-twenties. Her blue eyes twinkle as she waves back. She has beautiful blond hair tied in a tight bun on top of her head, with a few wisps escaping that frame her lovely face. She wears the lodge’s brown and teal-trimmed apron over her white cotton shirt and teal skirt.

Good morning, Olivia. How are you?

Olivia was one of the sweetest students I ever had. Smart as a whip. She and her best friend Shar were inseparable in school and, if I remember correctly, Shar was quite a handful. Even in elementary school.

I’m doing well, Mrs. J., thank you. How are you?

What beautiful earrings you have on!

Olivia reaches up and touches the delicate gold rectangles surrounding a painted piece of enamel. Thank you. My boyfriend Will had them made for me as a gift.

Are they hand-painted?

Yes, he had the artist paint the fireweed in full bloom to signify when we met at the end of last summer. I wear them every day.

He has wonderful taste. I wink at her. In jewelry, too.

She smiles, and I walk on as a guest stops her. I’m surprised when I hear her telling a customer that Donna no longer carries the local bakery’s cardamom buns. Something seems off, and I can’t help but wonder what’s going on.

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CHAPTER 2

Letting myself in, I close Donna’s door behind me. It’s just me, I call out and unclip Polly from her leash. She rushes over to say hello to Baldwin, who’s perched in his usual majestic stance on a dining chair. Polly’s tail wags her whole body in excitement before jumping up to place her front paws onto the edge of the chair. My heart melts as I watch the two touch noses in greeting. Baldwin jumps down, and they race off into the living room to play.

Settling into a dining room chair, my eyes go to the framed article I wrote about the lodge opening, which hangs over the buffet. Fond memories of that interview invade my thoughts and I recall how it marked the start of Donna’s life as a lodge owner and our decade-long friendship.

As if on cue, Donna appears with two steaming mugs of coffee topped with frothed milk and a dash of cinnamon. She’s been here through some of my darkest moments and without her support, I’m not sure how I would have made it through the last eighteen months.

I’m thrilled about how the eco-tram upgrade is going! Donna beams as she sits down in the chair across from me. I can’t wait to get this press release out.

The tram is housed at the bottom plateau of the mountain. A large deck at the back of the lodge offers a glimpse of the restaurant perched at the top of the first peak and only accessible to guests by a tram ride. Donna has wanted to upgrade the restaurant for years, but she hasn’t been able to make that happen yet and I’m a little surprised she put the money into the new eco-tram first.

Thank you. I take my coffee from her, inhaling the delicious blend of the earthy coffee and spicy cinnamon. My hands are freezing as always, and I wrap them around the warm mug to take the chill off. I’m happy to help you; it’s the least I can do, I say, setting my coffee down to grab my pad and pen from my bag and setting them on the massive spruce table.

Donna’s home is a unique blend of antique furniture she had shipped up from the Lower 48 and rustic pieces made by a woodworker from trees cut down around her property. This fusion gives her space a cozy yet luxurious feel which extends into the lodge. The buttery color of the dining table pairs nicely with the gold and red chair cushions, creating an inviting atmosphere that reflects Donna’s style perfectly.

We can work directly on my laptop. Donna points to her computer sitting at the end of the table.

You know I’m old school. I wink at her. I think better hearing the scratch of a pen on the paper.

Whatever gets your brilliant mind working at top speed. We can type it up when we’re done. So, how do we start?

Why don’t you explain how the electric tram works, and I’ll make some notes.

It’s actually pretty simple, Donna replies. It’s called a hybrid electric light rail vehicle, or LRV.

LRV. I print the acronym on the pad to help cement it in my head.

It uses an onboard rechargeable lithium-ion battery to power the tram. Think about your smart phone, but imagine a battery that has six hundred times the voltage, she explains.

Wow, that sounds pretty powerful. I pause for a moment before worrying out loud. Is there any way the battery can die midway up the mountain and leave the tram stranded? I shiver at the thought of riding up in the thing. Getting stuck midway would scare the bejeesus out of me, I laugh uncomfortably. My hands are clammy just thinking about being trapped in that box suspended in the air.

I know how you feel, Donna comforts me before continuing her explanation, but you have nothing to worry about; it’s no different than taking public transportation—nothing like a carnival ride.

She is well aware of my fear of heights from an incident in my childhood. Okay, describe for me why it won’t get stuck. Wiping my sweating palms on my jeans, I focus on gathering the facts, pushing away images of falling from the car and plummeting to my death.

The battery can power the tram continuously for ten and a half miles before needing to be recharged. We also have a secondary battery on board, in case the first one fails.

I quickly make some notes as I consider how to write up the press release.

Donna takes a sip of her coffee. It’ll switch to the backup if the primary battery drops offline for any reason.

That’s smart, I nod. Now tell me, who drives the tram? The comforting warmth of my coffee slides down my throat as I take a sip.

It’s simple to operate, but I require certified drivers for safety and insurance reasons, she replies, walking over to the table and adding a plate with an array of biscotti from Simon Pelf’s bakery to the table.

My eyes fall on the dark chocolate-dipped orange cookie that Donna knows is my favorite and I query, Will this new battery system mean it needs no fuel of any sort to run the car up and down the mountain?

Go ahead, she urges me, pushing the plate closer. That’s right—we expect our eco-tram to be the first of its kind in the country. Donna’s face beams with pride.

How wonderful, I exclaim, taking the treat onto a napkin and nibbling it slowly. I’m sure I’ve got enough material here to start writing. With each bite, my ideas come into sharper focus as a draft begins to form.

Donna stands and hands me several magazines from the top of the buffet. We’ve been featured in these magazines for our green initiatives. The eco-tram will make us a fully eco-friendly resort, she says with pride.

Flipping through the articles, I think about how hard Donna has worked to build up the lodge’s reputation.

We could even win an award for this, her voice quivers with anticipation as she paces around the room. This press release needs to be perfect.

I take another bite and review my words before turning to Donna. What do you think of this?

The Moose Peak Mountain Lodge is thrilled to introduce its new fully electric aerial tram. It is the first resort in the county to embrace this innovative eco-friendly technology that can safely transport guests up and down the mountain to our restaurant and viewing area. Come join us for a ride on the new green wave.

Ginny, that’s perfect! She exclaims.

You know opening the lodge has had a major impact on Moose Peak. I really don’t know where the town would be without you.

Well, I don’t know about that. She waves away the compliment.

I do, I persist. From Denali’s Doggie Day Care to Moose Peak Bakery, every business has benefited from having the lodge here.

Donna shrugs, so I continue. It goes beyond just providing jobs here at the hotel. All these places have gotten a steady stream of customers because of you. I won’t let her diminish what she’s done for Moose Peak.

I do love this town, Donna finally admits. It’s so important to support the local businesses. I certainly know how difficult it can be for small business owners.

Just as I’m about to ask why the lodge didn’t offer Simon Pelf’s cardamom buns anymore, there’s a knock at the door.

Sorry, Donna apologizes. That must be one of the staff here to finish up some details for tomorrow’s Sleuthfest opening ceremony and authors’ breakfast. I’ll be right back.

Go ahead, I’ll work on getting this typed up, I say, scooting over to her laptop.

I hear her heels clicking against the wood floor and the door opens. A few seconds later a man’s voice hisses, You’ll be sorry if you don’t.

I will not be extorted by you; this is my business, Donna retorts in a harsh whisper.

Once I get through with you, you’ll be lucky if you have a business left.

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CHAPTER 3

Hearing the door bang shut propels me from the table. Polly peers in from the living room. It’s okay, girl. I think. Go back and play with Baldwin. She doesn’t move. I listen for a few seconds, but I don’t hear Donna coming back, so I walk out to see if everything is alright, Polly at my heels.

Donna is sitting on the floor with her back against the door, shaking as she quietly sobs. I kneel down, gently touching her shoulder. What happened? What’s wrong? Polly licks her arm.

It’s nothing. Donna pats Polly on the head and gets up from the floor. She wipes the tears from her eyes and then smooths down her white cotton blouse before running her fingers through her chin-length chestnut hair.

That wasn’t nothing. I know you, Donna Matthews, and you don’t rattle easily.

Donna heads back into the dining room, and I follow. She falls into her chair. Polly positions herself at Donna’s feet. Baldwin glides in from the living room, sitting opposite of Polly. They look like sphinxes guarding their queen.

As the silence continues, I press again. Who was that?

In a voice tinged with resignation, she finally answers without meeting my eyes. His name is Bric Mason; he’s sort of the new chef I hired for the restaurant a few months ago. She hesitates for a moment before she continues: At least that’s what we’ve been telling people.

What do you mean, sort of the new chef? I wrinkle my forehead.

I did something really stupid, Ginny. Donna looks like she is holding back tears.

It can’t be that bad, I say. I’m hoping I’m reassuring her.

I think it is. A tear escapes and slides down her cheek. I pull a clean tissue from my vest pocket and hand it to her. Bric isn’t actually an employee. Donna looks down, still refusing to meet my eyes, and wipes away the tear.

I don’t understand. Are you involved with him romantically?

She looks up, eyes wide, Oh gosh no! Nothing like that.

Then what?

Avoiding my gaze again, she shreds the tissue she’s holding. I needed money for the tram upgrade. I knew it would pay off, especially if we were the first lodge in the country to have one. She blows her nose into the tissue remnants. The battery company had other resorts interested. I had to commit quickly because they were only going to choose one resort to premier the technology in the United States. Donna rubs her neck. There wasn’t time to jump through all the bank’s hoops to get a loan, and I didn’t have that kind of money on hand.

I pull out a chair next to her and sit down, facing her.

Bric came to me several months ago. He wanted to buy into the restaurant. He was very charming, and he offered me a significant amount of money. Her eyes beg me to understand her predicament. He sold himself as the perfect silent partner.

She leans her elbows on the table and holds her head in her hands. You know re-branding the restaurant has been one of my long-term goals, but I didn’t think it was something I could do anytime in the near future. And when he initially approached me, I didn’t give his offer much consideration. I’ve never wanted a partner. Certainly not someone who was a stranger. She sniffs. But he was persistent. He presented his vision of a farm-to-table, locally sourced, upscale dining experience for the guests. She uses air quotes. And he kept emphasizing how he had the connections and energy to make it happen.

Her shoulders drop. I planned to scrutinize his proposition thoroughly and take my time to make sure it was the right fit. You know, I wanted to make sure I wasn’t getting caught up in his flashy performance. She looks up at the ceiling. But when I ended up needing the money for the tram upgrade so quickly, I rushed in and accepted his offer before thoroughly vetting him. I naively thought I was being handed the perfect opportunity to secure the funds for the tram and re-brand the restaurant in the same deal.

Alright, so he’s an investor. What’s so bad about that? I ask, not quite understanding the