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Synopsis
Just when everything is returning to the calm that Quinn Caine and her sidekicks Ruff Barker Ginsburg and Sister Daria are used to in their beloved town of Vienna, a Broadway star crash-lands into their peace and quiet. Chad Frivole is Vienna’s prodigal son, and the once notorious lothario has returned a Broadway star, ready to make a different kind of mark on his hometown. But not everyone is celebrating the Tony-award-winner’s return. Chad’s a triple threat—with a cast of characters lining up to seek their revenge on him. So when he turns up dead in his car, trapped with a sack full of snakes, Quinn can’t say she’s surprised—but she promises handsome detective Aiden Harrington that she’s staying out of this local mystery. But then someone starts threatening her brother’s life. And while it’s true Sebastian used to be a womanizer just like Chad, the killer doesn’t seem to care that he’s not that man anymore. So now Sebastian's in the killer’s sights, and unless Quinn and her crew can find the killer in time, whoever it is will drag her brother into his final act on this mortal coil.
Release date: March 21, 2023
Publisher: Crooked Lane Books
Print pages: 272
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A Midsummer Night's Scheme
Harper Kincaid
All the world’s a stage, and all the men and women merely players.
They have their exits and their entrances;
And one man in his time plays many parts.
—Shakespeare’s As You Like It
When a gal’s treasured childhood home of Vienna, Virginia, has two murders in six months, it makes her realize there really is no place like home—and maybe that’s no longer a good thing. Quinn Caine had been born in this town, raised here too, only leaving for college and, after graduation, to teach English overseas. She knew she was still young, but that didn’t mean life hadn’t touched her. Quinn was old enough to realize that hometowns, just like people, are complicated; simultaneously wonderful and terrible and never quite as predictable as they’d like you to believe.
She was sprawled across a cotton blanket with her German shepherd, RBG, aka Ruff Barker Ginsburg, pressed close to her side. At least my dog is pure goodness. She smiled to herself. Whip-smart too. If there had been a Mensa society for dogs, RBG would totally have qualified. Glancing around at the crowd of young families and old souls, Quinn seemed to be the only one still thinking about what had happened earlier in the summer, how one of their own—and a newcomer—had been murdered. The Vienna Police had caught the killer, who was sentenced to life in prison without parole, and the whole town expelled a long-held sigh of relief. Tensions melted away from her neighbors’ collective shoulders and life went on.
But not for Quinn, not really. For one thing, she thought of her murdered frenemy often. Tricia Pemberley was beautiful, intelligent, and had spent the entirety of her young life as a Nellie Oleson incarnate, a truly awful reboot of the Little House on the Prairie character. Spoiled. Entitled. Mouthy. But Quinn couldn’t shake how her childhood nemesis had shown a hint of vulnerability and maturity on the last day of her life. That’s what haunted her, knowing Tricia had been on the precipice of redemption, only to be killed—and in such a strange, unexpected way.
She kept petting RBG’s fur, surveying all the seemingly sparkly happy people around he. And why wouldn’t they be? Most people just wanted to forget what happened and have a good time. But no amount of sunshine and sweet tea could fully take the sour out of her mouth.
Quinn knew from watching too many documentaries that the human brain was designed to forget pain in order to remain hopeful for the future, the proof being right under her tush. The Town Green, where she and her fellow Northern Virginians were lounging carefree, had once been a makeshift Civil War campsite for both Union and Confederate soldiers. She tried to imagine being beaten and bloodied by war, only to find oneself convalescing mere yards away from the son of a gun who shot you.
Quinn and half the town were perched like a mob of meerkats in front of the Town Green’s open-air stage, eyes wide as they waited for the festivities to start, under twilight skies tinged with dusty pinks and sun-soaked umbers. Vienna’s own All-Star School of Rock band was slated to play, and they were a town favorite. The school might have been a music education franchise across the c
ountry, but the Vienna branch had a nationwide reputation for graduating future rock gods and Broadway icons.
RBG was panting, but not because she was getting all worked up over the rock ’n’ roll lineup. She was thirsty, so Quinn retrieved a portable water bowl out of her bag and poured her some much-needed refreshment, whacking the side of the lined bottle so the ice cubes would slide out and plop into the water. An arctic-chilled drink with an icy crunch—that’s how RBG liked it, and Quinn, the same as any other pet parent, lived to serve her canine charge. “You overindulge your girl,” her mamma always said to her, which was rich, considering the woman kept a magically refilled supply of liverwurst doggy treat “cupcakes” in her jacket pocket at all times. Just in case, just for RBG.
Meanwhile, her dog exerted as little physical effort as possible, scooting and stretching her neck forward just enough to reach her bowl. RBG slurped her water—and she did it loud enough to trigger anyone with a bad case of misophonia to cringe all over.
Quinn scratched RBG’s black-and-tan rump. “See? This is why we can’t go to nice places. You forget your table manners.”
Some of the people sitting close by laughed along with her, but one cackle stood out from the rest. Quinn glanced around because she’d know that laugh anywhere.
Sure enough, there she was, her buoyant, fiery-red curls lifting off her shoulders a half beat behind due to her light-on-her-feet gait: fellow Prose & Scones bookshop employee Leah Grover, with her husband, Ryan. She had started off as a part-time “book matchmaker” and then been promoted to social media manager. A great call, in Quinn’s opinion, especially since Quinn was the one who had been singing Leah’s praises to the owners, who just happened to be her parents, Finn and Adele Caine.
Quinn was madly in love with everything to do with books. She even sniffed them when no one was looking because—really—what was more heavenly than that new book smell? Leah felt the same way, which was why they were such good friends. Maybe not as close as Quinn was to her cousin, Elizabeth—now church novitiate Sister Daria—but she certainly saw more of Leah these days. Her cousin lived only three miles down the road at Saint Guinefort House, the church’s abbey and dog shelter, but it might as well have been a continent away. Quinn was learning to live with Daria’s calling, but that didn’t mean she didn’t miss the cousin she’d grown up with like a sister as if she were a phantom limb.
Meanwhile, Quinn’s friend had now maneuvered her way through the crowd, dragging her husband behind her. Judging by the lopsided grin on his face, Ryan didn’t mind; he’d let his cherubic bride schlep him
wherever she wanted to go.
Leah stopped right at the edge of Quinn’s blanket. Her toes were painted a shiny rose gold. “Well, look at you! That chicken wing of yours is all healed up. ’Bout time too.”
Quinn glanced down at her left arm, which was about eight shades lighter than her right. She crooked her elbow and flapped it up and down as if testing for flight. “Yeah, the doc sawed the cast off on Friday, and I can’t tell you what a relief it is to finally be out of that thing.”
Ryan scrunched up his nose. “Bet it was stinky too.”
“Ryan!” Leah play-slapped his upper arm. “I’m sure that’s not true.”
“Oh, it’s totally true. There was an entire season of summer sweat encased in there. You should’ve seen how my skin was peeling off in places, and—”
Leah’s rosy cheeks turned an unflattering shade of green as she shooed away Quinn’s words. “Please, please stop—I’ve got quite the vivid picture burned in my brain now,” she gagged. “Thanks for that.”
Oops.
Ryan draped his arm around her, giving his wife’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze.
“Well, we’re just relieved you’re all better. Every time I’d come to pick Leah up from work, I’d talk with your family, and—trust me—they were worried sick.”
Quinn couldn’t blame them for feeling overprotective. After her kidnapping earlier this summer, Tricia’s killer had done quite a number on Quinn’s arm and shoulder during an attempted escape from the Vienna PD. Quinn had sustained a fractured wrist, a broken humerus, and a shattered scapula, the latter requiring extensive surgery on her shoulder. Recovery had taken months, which meant she had missed out on her favorite warm-weather pastimes—usually involving a body of water and an alcoholic concoction with one of those pastel-colored paper umbrellas stuck into a piece of tropical fruit swollen with sugary juice.
The color returned to Leah’s complexion. “So, is it just you and RBG here? Or are you waiting for uh, hmm … someone special?”
Quinn coughed into her hand. “Wow, that wasn’t even subtle, like not even a little bit.”
Leah squinted up at Ryan. “Honey, am I even capable of being subtle?”
He barked out a laugh. “I’m not answering that one.”
Leah wasn’t the only one curious about Quinn’s love life. Everyone was. Quinn even noticed a few ears around them perking up the minute Leah’s question left her mouth—and she knew why.
They all wanted to know how Quinn and Aiden Harrington, the town’s lead detective and her older brother’s best friend, were faring as a new couple.
It was Aiden who had rescued her from the murderer’s backyard crypt. Most of what had happened remained fuzzy, but what Quinn could remember from that day was pain: soul-sucking, blinding agony so piercing, she fainted as soon as she cleared the doorway. According to reports from the press and police, Aiden had swooped in and scooped her up in his arms, carrying her to safety like a hero from a Marvel comic book. When she regained consciousness, her blurred gaze locked with his.
“We got the suspect, Quinn,” he told her. “You’re safe now.”
She let out a sigh. “For the record, they are totally off the Caine Christmas card list.”
Then she passed out, and the last sound she heard was Aiden growling, “You’ll get justice, Quinnie. I promise.”
Later, the local paper read “Vienna Killer Caught—and One of the Kidnapper’s Victims Gets the Ultimate Meet-Cute to the Town’s Most Eligible Bachelor.”
Those headlines had been enough for her to wish the killer had finished her off. Who knew The Vienna Patch had its own Yente on staff? Of course, Quinn had known Aiden all her life, harboring a secret crush ever since he, at age eleven, had taught her, age five, how to tie her shoes with the bunny-ears method.
At least she’d thought her feelings had been a secret. But as soon as the info got out that they were dating, everyone—meaning everyone—called, texted, or stopped by to visit while she recovered at her parents’ house, saying it was “about time these two kids got together” and how they’d all been praying he would “finally notice her.” She even found out Eun and Greg Hutton, the owners of her favorite grill, Church Street Eats, had had a betting pool going, with customers throwing down good money on how long it was going to take Aiden to “get his head out of his ass and ask her out already.”
Quinn vacillated between wanting to crawl into a deep, dark hole and fighting the urge to go postal with a hot wrath o’ vengeance for being embarrassed. Of course, in the end, she did neither and pretended not to notice the stares, gawks, and questions.
Thank sweet baby Jesus all that drama had ended months ago. Now she was trying to soak in all the vitamin D left in the season, shielding her eyes from the sun while gazing up at the Grovers.
And while she had to give Leah props for her creative, if not-so-subtle, “fishing” expedition, Quinn opted for the redirect. “So, hey, are you tw
o staying for the concert? I heard there was going to be a special guest with a ‘once in a lifetime’ announcement, whatever that means.”
Ryan nodded. “Oh, yeah, have you heard them? They’re really good. Hard to believe they’re just kids.”
Quinn couldn’t have agreed more. “I grew up going to their concerts, mostly because my brother’s girlfriend, Rachel, used to sing with them in high school. In fact”—she pointed toward the stage to the right of the Town Green—“she’s over there with Bash. Rachel’s a lawyer now, but she still gives singing lessons to the kids on weekends.”
Bash must have felt their eyes, because he glanced up, smiled, and gave a chin lift. Rachel was in a huddle, probably offering the kids a last-minute pep talk. Quinn couldn’t help but grin wide and bright. She had prayed for years those two would get back together. Frankly, she thought her brother had been a dozen different kinds of idiot for breaking up with Rachel in the first place. Whatever “oats” he’d needed to sow back in college hadn’t been worth losing the love of his life. It had taken some doing, but now Bash and Rachel were back together and closer than ever.
The three of them waved back at Bash.
Through her plastered-on smile, Leah muttered, “For the record, I am onto you, Ms. Q. And let me state, again for the record, it’s not going to work.”
“I have no idea what you mean,” Quinn lied.
Leah chortled. “Uh-huh, so tell me. Did you come here with someone, or are you and RBG flying solo?”
A deep, rough-edged voice vibrated right behind them. “For the record, she’s here with me.”
Just the sound of him generated tiny earthquakes everywhere. Quinn twisted her torso while sitting in place, her gaze climbing up slow and high. Aiden towered over her, the sun beaming right behind his jet-black hair. Haloed with a gentle smile, just for her.
While the town might have known Quinn harbored a not-so-secret-crush for years, she was now careful not to reveal much more than that. They were taking their time with this new romance. Quite daunting when one considered how long she had waited to be his, but not so much since she had to recover from shoulder surgery at her parent’s house all summer. Hers had been a real nasty injury, a rare one too, and she’d been under the knife for over eight hours. Half her side had remained immobile in an arm and shoulder cast for
eight weeks. Aiden had come by twice a day to walk RBG, and they’d spent their time on the Caine compound. Even when Finn and Adele would give them room for a private dinner for two, Quinn had been hard-pressed to feel romantic when, glancing down at her plate, she found her mother had already cut her meat for her.
Before Quinn had a chance to give Aiden a proper hello, RBG snapped out of her hot-weather stupor and jumped up to greet him, front paws on his chest, tail wagging close and fast enough to almost slap Quinn on the side of the head.
“RBG! Get down!” she commanded.
Her dog wasn’t listening, but then again, Quinn always lost her alpha status when Aiden came around. RBG stood on her hind legs, batting her long lashes like a schoolgirl.
Quinn tried not to take it personally. “I swear, this dog thinks you two are the couple—not you and me.”
He offered a playful wink. “That’s because she hasn’t seen Rueger in a couple of weeks. Your cousin’s been keeping that beast all to herself.” Aiden turned his attention back to her dog. “Down, girl.”
And just like that, RBG sat down, gazing up at him, panting hard with her tongue lopped to the side. Quinn didn’t even try to hide a snicker.
“You’ll have to excuse my girl. She’s fixed but can obviously still go into heat. I’m actually quite embarrassed for her.”
If RBG was bothered, she hid it well. She barely gave her guardian a glance.
Leah let out a hoot. “Well, can you blame her? Your man brought sustenance!”
That’s when Quinn noticed he had a sizable basket in his hand—the old-fashioned kind made of wicker stained the color of sand.
“Whoa, what’s this? I thought we were going out for dinner after the concert.”
He smiled, a teasing glint in his gray eyes. “Yeah, there’s no way you’ll be able to wait for food until after nine o’clock. I’m not new here.” Aiden glanced over at Ryan and Leah. “Quinn gets seriously hangry if not fed on a regular basis. I’m just doing my civic duty to prevent a local incident. Less paperwork that way.”
Leah blushed. “Oh my, aren’t you considerate.”
If Ryan was bothered by his wife tittering over Aiden, it didn’t show. He leaned forward to shake his hand, a genuine grin on his face. “Hey, man, good to see you.”
Aiden reciprocated. “Same. Thanks for keeping Quinn company,” he said, folding all six feet of himself down onto the blanket. He placed the basket in front of them and started to open it but stopped and glanced up when he realized Leah and Ryan were still standing there.
“Would you like to join us? There’s plenty,” he offered.
Before Ryan could even begin to formulate a response, Leah did a combo squeal-jump, dropping down into a perfect c
risscross-applesauce formation on the blanket.
“Thanks! This way we can catch up.” She looked to her right, only to find she was staring at her husband’s calves. “Ryan, don’t be rude.” She patted the space next to her. “Come sit.”
He let out an amused snort before doing what he was told.
Leah clapped her hands. “Oh, this is so great! Since you’ve been cooped up all summer, we hardly had a chance to see you. You haven’t worked a shift yet at the shop, have you?”
“So much for a romantic meal in the park,” Quinn muttered to herself.
Although who was she kidding? They were surrounded by almost everyone they knew in town. The minute Aiden showed up, Quinn had noticed everybody peering in their direction, trying to be sly as they spied.
Aiden’s hand reached inside the basket. “Actually, Quinn just got off her first shift. How’d it go, babe?”
Okay, so Quinn and Aiden were now an item, and phrases like How’d it go, babe? were expected boyfriend lexicon. Hearing such words outside her active imagination further enhanced their velvety effect. Perhaps that was to be expected when the man you’d been pining for since you were in pigtails and braces suddenly became yours. For the first month, Quinn had often secretly pinched herself, just to make sure she wasn’t dreaming.
“Babe?”
Quinn refocused to find Aiden, Ryan, and Leah staring at her—concern times three.
“I’m sorry, what were you saying?”
Aiden grimaced, taking the wineglass out her hand. When did that get there?
“None of this for you, then,” he told her. “I had a feeling, after your first full day back on the job, that going to this concert may be too much for you.”
“That’s silly. Studies have shown creative, neurodivergent people fall into dissociative states on a regular basis, ...
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