Confessions of an Amateur Sleuth

Book 2: Bainbridge Island Mystery

by Lynn Cahoon

Genres: Animal Cozy Mysteries; Mystery

Synopsis

Bainbridge Island bookseller, aspiring author, and amateur sleuth Meg (no relation to Bill) Gates investigates the murder of a crabby food critic in New York Times bestselling author Lynn Cahoon’s latest Pacific Northwest-set mystery for fans of Kate Carlisle, Lorna Barrett, Jenn McKinlay, and Ellery Adams.

Twenty-something bookseller and sleuth Meg Gates has a confession: solving crimes may be easier than writing. She’s been working on a guide to becoming a detective—but she’s her own worst critic. She needs a how-to in order to write her how-to!

At the Bainbridge Island writers’ group, she meets freelance food critic Lee Anderson, who invites her to join him for dinner at the Local Crab so he won’t be suspected of reviewing the place. Lee is a bit of a crab himself and intends to do a hatchet job on the eatery.

Instead, someone does a job on the critic—he’s found dead by the marina. Now Bainbridge’s culinary elite are on the suspect list.

With help from her beau, Dalton, and the Mystery Crew at Island Books, Meg dons her sleuthing cap to solve the mystery du jour—before another murder is served cold . . .

Release date: April 28, 2026

Publisher: Kensington Books

Print pages: 256

Sample

Interviewing is a conversation, not an interrogation. Especially when you don’t wear a badge.

Something was missing. Okay, a lot of things were missing. Meg Gates stared at the local authors shelf as she stood at the front door of Island Books, her mother’s bookstore. She’d made the display eye-catching, but the shelves were almost empty. Three weeks ago, her mom had promised she’d get Meg the list of books she’d been curating since she’d opened the shop. Right now, only L. C. Aster’s books inhabited the bookcase. Of course, Lilly Aster, Meg’s other boss, had been writing for years, so she had a lot of books to showcase.

Meg wanted to highlight other local authors as well. She typed out a text to her mom since her phone calls had gone unanswered that morning.

As she clicked “send,” the bell over the door alerted her to a customer. “Welcome to Island Books, may I help you?”

“Where’s Mom?” Stephen ‘Junior’ Gates beelined directly to the counter. “She usually works Tuesday mornings.”

“Good morning to you.” Meg rolled her eyes as she addressed her brother. Junior dressed like an accountant. Even on days off, he wore a polo shirt and chino shorts. He still worked for their dad at his accounting firm, and the job fit his personality. Junior liked his life orderly. “Why aren’t you at work?”

“I take off the second Tuesday of every month to take Mom to Seattle for lunch. I called her when I got on the ferry this morning. But she hasn’t answered.” Junior tried to peek around Meg. “I guess she must have gotten my message since you’re here to cover her. Is she in the back?”

“One, it’s not the second Tuesday, it’s the first. And no, she’s not here.” Meg leaned back on the stool. “Funny, I haven’t been able to reach her by phone this morning either. She emailed me on Monday with my hours for the week. She didn’t explain, but I’m working the day shift on Tuesday, and then on Thursday I have the entire day from open to close. She said I could close when it got slow Thursday night. Maybe she has appointments this week.”

Junior seemed to analyze the information as he read the back of a memoir of an English prime minister that a customer had left unpurchased on the register counter. “But that doesn’t explain her not picking up her phone. And why would she have appointments on two different days? You don’t think she’s sick, do you?”

“I saw her Sunday at church. She looked okay.” Meg thought about how her mom had acted that day. She’d eaten her entire lunch at the restaurant and even ordered dessert. Something Mom never did. “She even had a tan.”

“So you think it’s just a checkup?” Junior set the book down. “I wish she’d called me back so I wouldn’t have wasted a ferry ticket.”

“You were already heading here when you—” Meg started but then stopped. Explaining to Junior that the world didn’t work on his schedule was a waste of breath. She watched as he pulled his phone out and started texting someone. “So why did you come this week and not next week anyway?”

Junior’s face turned red.

“Junior?” Now Meg was curious. Her older brother had always been the steady one. Meanwhile, Meg had been a three-time loser—she failed to finish college, then the tech startup she’d joined went bankrupt, and, of course, her wedding was canceled due to her fiancé’s lack of understanding of the definition of the word faithful. Meg had returned to Bainbridge Island to live in an apartment over her aunt’s garage and work at her mom’s bookstore. Junior, on the other hand, had finished his degree and went to work for their father in Bellevue at his accounting firm. She loved her family, but she hated that she was always seen as the needy one.

He kept his gaze on his phone. “I’ve got plans next week.”

“Plans. At work?” Meg noticed he’d turned even redder. When he didn’t answer, she asked again, “What plans?”

“I’m going to a conference in San Francisco if you must know, nosy.” He looked up and met her gaze. “Are you happy? Or do you need the rest of my schedule?”

“Why are you blushing about a conference?” Meg searched his face for clues. “Unless you’re going with a woman. Don’t tell me you’re dating someone at Dad’s firm. Please don’t let it be your secretary.”

Now Junior’s face turned scarlet. “We don’t have secretaries anymore. We have assistants. Besides, I’m not Dad. Anne works in corporate accounts. She’s an accountant. We’ve only been dating for a few weeks. We’ll be staying in separate rooms. Now can we stop the third degree?”

Meg felt bad about bringing up their father. His new wife, Elaine, had been his secretary, but they both claimed that the relationship had changed from work friends to something romantic only after the divorce. Meg wanted to believe him, but he’d been the first of her parents to start dating. Mom still hadn’t gone out with anyone. At least as far as Meg knew.

She realized Junior was watching her. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought Dad into the conversation. So, Anne, huh? She’s an accountant and what else? Is she from Seattle? What does she look like? Is she nice?”

The door to the shop opened and with the bell’s announcement, Dalton walked into the shop. “Hey Junior, are you ready?”

“What’s going on?” Meg looked from Junior to Dalton. The two men had been friends since middle school.

“Mom’s not here so I checked in with Dalton to see if he had time for lunch.” He picked up the memoir again. “Put this on my account. Tell Mom I’ll call her later. When you see her.”

Watson, Meg’s tan cocker spaniel, had roused himself from his morning nap and started circling Dalton for attention.

Dalton leaned down and gave the excited pup head rubs. Then Dalton looked up at Meg. “Do you need me to take him out before we leave?”

“Would you?” Meg glanced at her watch. “He’s been asleep for almost three hours now. I’m sure he needs a walk.”

“Sure. And do you want me to bring you something back from the restaurant for lunch?” Dalton walked over and grabbed Watson’s leash from behind the counter.

Junior groaned as he perched on the edge of the couch. “You’ve been spending too much time here with my sister. Her dog loves you and you know where everything is.”

“Maybe you’ve just been spending too little time here.” Dalton stood and headed to the door. “I’ll bring him back in a few and you can answer my lunch question.”

“No lunch,” Meg said as a group of tourists came into the bookstore. “I’m going to a writers’ meeting this evening over at Island Diner. I brought a lunch.”

“I’ll come with you,” Junior declared as he followed Dalton out the door. “Just tell Mom I was here.”

“When I see her,” Meg muttered, then she smiled at a woman walking toward her. “What can I help you with?”

When Dalton brought back Watson, she had a line of customers at the register. He tucked the leash back under the counter as the dog headed to his water dish to refill. “Junior’s waiting for me at Island Diner. Do you need me to stay?”

She handed a credit card receipt and a bag to the customer she’d been helping. “No, I’m good, but thanks for taking him out.”

“My pleasure,” Dalton responded as he made his way out of the shop.

The next customer watched Dalton leave, then handed Meg her card after she’d rung up the book purchase. “Your boyfriend’s cute and thoughtful. You need to keep that one.”

Meg smiled as she ran the card. She turned the screen toward the customer for her signature. “Dalton’s not my boyfriend.”

“Oh?” The woman turned and looked out the window where Dalton had disappeared seconds before. “Does he know that?”

Mom hadn’t called back by the time Meg needed to close the shop. She could get dinner at the meeting, but she couldn’t take Watson inside the restaurant. She needed to take him home and feed him. And turn on his favorite movie.

Yes, her dog was spoiled. But he was also good company and kept Meg from talking to herself. She’d found him on a rescue website one day and had gone down to the shelter the same day to adopt him. She did one thing right—take care of her dog.

By the time she got back into town, the meeting had started. She grabbed a waitress and gave her order, then sat down at the back of the banquet room to wait for food while she listened to the presenter.

A man leaned over and held out his hand. “Hi, I’m Lee Anderson. I’m a freelance food writer.”

Meg leaned closer so she could lower her voice. “Meg Gates. I guess I’m a nonfiction crime writer. I’m working on my first book. Who’s talking today?”

“That’s Crissy Lorde. She writes cozy mysteries and she’s talking about her experience self-publishing versus the more traditional route.” He held up his notebook to show Meg. The page was empty except for the date that Lee had written on the right corner. “I’d share my notes, but so far, I’ve got nothing. She’s just talking about her own journey in writing. But she promised ten comparisons between the two options sometime tonight. The way she’s going, we might be here until midnight by the time she hits number ten.”

Meg suppressed a giggle. The speakers at the writers’ group ranged from people who were just there to sell their book to professional writers like L. C. Aster, who’d come to talk to the group about her thrillers last month. Meg was Lilly’s author assistant and had recently told her boss that she was trying to write a nonfiction book about solving mysteries. Lilly had suggested that Meg join the local writing group to meet other writers and learn about the industry.

Writing a book was harder than Meg had imagined. Sometimes she felt like she had control of the nonfiction book about how to become your own Nancy Drew. Sometimes she thought the book was controlling her. The good part of the process was that it gave her an inside look at what authors like Lilly went through when creating the product. The bad part was she felt like an imposter a lot of the time. Lilly’s advice. One page at a time. Don’t look back until it’s done, then you can see if it works or not.

Meg was beginning to think the “or not” advice was what eventually would happen. But she was going to finish it, mostly because she was tired of changing lanes when things got hard. Whether or not it eventually sold was out of her hands. But she could help it along. Like by attending and learning from the local writers. Which was why she was here tonight.

This presenter may not have been worth the time to attend the meeting, but as her mother always said, “You get what you get and you don’t throw a fit.” Besides, Meg could probably find at least one tidbit in the talk to get her excited about writing.

Apparently, Lee Anderson hadn’t had the same upbringing. He pulled out his phone and started scrolling through his emails. He looked over at Meg when her food was delivered. “Wake me when she’s done.”

Meg had finished eating when the speaker finished her presentation. Crissy had presented them with ten comparisons, and Meg had written them down, wondering if her amateur investigation book would be appropriate for self-publishing. She wanted the book in bookstores. And that meant an agent and a publisher.

Lilly had read the first chapter of Meg’s guidebook and told her it was promising, so at least one person thought she might be on the right track. Besides, she wasn’t going to worry until she finished the book. She took notes on marketing ideas and wrote down any editors who seemed to be accepting queries in her area. But she was mostly there for the hour of sprint writing and the happy hour afterward. She’d already met several nonfiction writers and they’d been friendly. She just hadn’t made any new friends. Yet.

The group transitioned into a quick write-in. Thirty minutes of uninterrupted writing. Meg opened her laptop and got busy.

Lee found her again during the happy hour. “Did you get any words?”

“Four hundred new words and a chapter read and tweaked. I swear, every time I look at a page, I find a typo or something I want to say differently. Does the editing ever stop?” Meg sipped her wine as she scanned the group. Crissy was still holding court over by the bar talking about how she published.

“That’s why I write for local papers. I have a deadline, so once it’s out of my hands, I’m done. I can’t play with it forever. So many people go over the first three chapters of a project and never move on. I’d love to write a book someday. Maybe like Anthony Bourdain, an exposé on the state of restaurants in the Pacific Northwest.” Lee shrugged and looked around the room. “Someday, I guess.”

“I don’t know about Someday,” Meg said.

Lee turned toward her, a frown narrowing his eyes. “What?”

“There’s Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday …” She tapped her fingers as she listed off the days of the week. “And it all ends with Sunday and starts over. But Someday? I’ve never heard of it.”

“Okay, fine. You got me. I need to just shut up and do it. Like in the Nike ads.” He grinned and finished his beer. “I’ve got to catch the ferry, but I like you, Gates. Why don’t you come with me to dinner tomorrow night? I’m reviewing a local restaurant. But we can’t let them know that’s why I’m there. You can be my cover. No one ever expects a food critic to have a sidekick. And we can talk more about writing nonfiction. I’ve got a few contacts you might want to interview. And my paper will buy your dinner.”

“Sounds good.” Meg glanced at her watch. She had a new project from Lilly she needed to start tonight. Especially since now she wouldn’t be home tomorrow night. “I’ll meet you at the restaurant. Which one and what time?”

He opened his phone. “My reservation is for eight at the Local Crab. Do you know it?”

“Yeah, I’ve met the chef before. Maybe I’m not a good sidekick for this one.” Meg hoped Lee didn’t have a reputation for trashing restaurants.

“Don’t be silly. You’re perfect. I’m just a friend from Seattle. He’ll never suspect anything, and I can get a clear reading on the meal without them trying to impress me.” He snapped a picture of her as she was taking a drink. He laughed at her widened eyes. “I like to remember where I meet people. That way I don’t forget their names. Although you seem pretty unforgettable.”

Meg shook her head. “No sweet-talking your writing partner. This is just about writing. I’m not looking for a relationship.”

“Good, because I’m not either. I just got out of a long-term relationship a few months ago, and my head is still not clear from her games. So we’re just friends, right?” He scanned the room as he talked.

“Exactly.” Meg finished her wine and set her glass on the counter. “I’ve got to run. Watson is probably waiting for me.”

“Oh, so there’s a boyfriend?” Lee called after her.

She shrugged and headed out the door. If Lee was looking for something more, Watson would keep him from misinterpreting her agreeing to go to dinner. She liked Lee, as a possible friend. Besides, one of the rules of investigating was to find out more about others, not give out all your personal information. It was a skill she was still working on.

Meg didn’t want to be an open book. Especially when she was working on an investigation, she needed to learn to be more invisible. It said so in her book.

As she left Island Diner, a small blonde waved at her. Meg waved but didn’t go back inside.

She’d practice her casual interviewing skills on Lee tomorrow night. Maybe she’d find out more about the food critic. And he could be her second writing friend. Lilly Aster was her first. Even if the famous author didn’t know they were friends.

Meg was playing the long game.

She was almost home when she realized who had waved at her as she left the meeting. Irene Olsen. The cruise salesperson who she’d been avoiding since she’d had coffee with her months ago.

The woman was relentless. As Meg hurried up the stairs, her phone buzzed with what was probably the first of many messages she’d get from Irene.

This day wasn’t turning out to be one of Meg’s favorites.

Sometimes what you wear says a lot about a person. Check your clothes when you’re investigating to make sure the other person doesn’t start to look for you.

Mom was still at the bookstore when Meg arrived for her shift the next day. Felicia Gates had been a stay-at-home mom for years, raising her two children, Meg and Junior. Then, when Meg was in high school, she’d bought the local bookstore. Mom seemed happier then, but three years later, Meg woke up to the news that her parents sprung on her and Junior the morning after Meg’s graduation party.

Good morning, Congrats on your life achievement. Here’s your favorite muffin to celebrate. By the way, your Dad and I are getting divorced.

It shouldn’t still hurt, but it did. Her father, Stephen, had remarried and lived with his new wife, Elaine, in Bellevue. Meg got invitations to dinner at their house often, but seeing them together, happy in their new life, made her feel unwanted.

The feeling was stupid, she knew. Especially since she was approaching twenty-seven this year. She let Watson off his leash and tucked her tote in the back room. When she came out, her mom was getting ready to leave. “Hey, I tried to call you yesterday.”

“Sorry, I had my phone off.” Her mom grabbed the offending phone and tucked it in her purse. “What did you need?”

“I wanted to see if you had that list of local authors for me. I know Skyler Johnson and Lilly, of course, but you said there were others?” Meg glanced at the list of sold books her mom kept in a notebook so they could reorder. “You haven’t been very busy today.”

“No, walk-in customers were slow.” Mom put her purse over her shoulder and held out a task list. “I’ll get that list to you on Friday unless I have it on my laptop at home. Make sure to do a bank drop sometime today or tomorrow. Just put the receipt in my box.”

Meg didn’t understand why her mother was rushing out. “Don’t you have dinner with Aunt Melody tonight?”

Her mom shook her head as she looked at her watch. “I rescheduled. I have something else tonight.”

Before her mom got to the door, Meg called out, “Oh, and Junior was here to take you to lunch yesterday. He seemed put out that you weren’t here waiting for him. He’s such a smuck.”

“Don’t talk about your brother that way.” Mom turned back toward Meg. “Wait, why was he here yesterday? Our lunch plans are for next week.”

Meg grinned as she leaned over the counter. Her forearms supported her body. “He is going to a conference. With a girl from work. And, Mom? He blushed when he told me about it.”

“Your brother is very sensitive. Did he say what her name is?” Her mom stood by the door, watching her.

“Anne, in corporate accounts. He said they had been on a few dates.” Meg thought about her brother’s history with women. “Maybe he just has a crush. You should ask Dad.”

Her mom raised her eyebrows. “Maybe you should ask your father. He texted me and said you haven’t accepted a dinner invitation from him since you moved home.”

“And that’s why I don’t call him about Junior.” Meg sighed when her mom stared at her. “Fine, I’ll make plans to have dinner with him soon. So what are you doing tonight?”

“Heading to Seattle,” her mom answered. “Sorry, I need to go.”

Before Meg could tell her about seeing Irene again, Mom opened the door and hurried out of the store. Junior’s question about Mom going to a doctor popped into Meg’s head. If her mother was having some sort of procedure where she needed to stay overnight at a hospital, she’d effectively cleared her schedule to do that.

Meg texted Aunt Melody and asked if she knew where her mom was going tonight.

The answer came back quickly. A visit to Seattle.

Meg waited for more information. When it didn’t come, she asked her what was going on.

This time her aunt’s response was even more vague, if possible. Don’t worry, she’s fine.

Whatever was going on with Meg’s mom, her aunt was in on it. Before she could ask any more questions, a customer came into the store and Meg was busy until it was time to close and meet up with Lee Anderson.

Dalton texted j. . .