Double Knot Untied

Book 0: Haunted Haven Mystery

by Carol J. Perry

Genres: Ghost; Craft & Hobby Cozy Mysteries

Synopsis

Maureen Doherty’s historic Haven House Inn is suddenly attracting national attention for a celebrity double wedding—until some uninvited ghosts crash the party and it turns into a murder scene . . .

This Florida Gulf Coast inn tries to keep its resident spirits a secret, and Maureen and Ted have everything under control as they prepare for a very special event—two identical-twin actors are getting hitched to two identical-twin actresses, casting a big spotlight on their Haven House Beach Weddings business. But then another pair turns up—namely, a couple of 19th-century ghosts who seem determined to cause trouble. They’re even materializing at a fashion show and on the front-porch rocking chairs, in full view of everyone!

Luckily, the inn has its own spectral security team—including a little-known US vice-president—who are ready to kick out the uninvited ghosts. But when dark secrets about the wedding are discovered and someone drops dead after the rehearsal dinner, Ted’s cooking comes under suspicion, and Maureen has to find the culprit before this becomes a case of multiple murder . . .

Release date: November 24, 2026

Publisher: Kensington Books

Print pages: 256

Sample

Maureen Doherty attached a leash to her golden retriever’s collar and walked down the carpeted corridor from her third-floor suite to the vintage elevator. Pressing the DOWN button, she watched shiny brass accordion-style doors slide open to reveal a polished wood and scrolled metal interior. “Come on, Finn,” she urged the hesitant dog. “I know you don’t like it but it’s faster than the stairs. Ted will be waiting for us.” She watched through etched glass windows as the cage descended two stories within its brick-walled enclosure. “I love this,” she said to herself. “It’s one of the best things about the old place.”

With Finn leading the way, she stepped out of the elevator into the Haven House Inn’s first-floor lobby. Night clerk Hilda looked up from the admissions desk. “Good morning, Maureen. Your beach wedding promotion idea is really getting around. I had a midnight inquiry about a double wedding, complete with sit-down dinner reception and accommodations for both of the bridal parties. The couples are two sets of identical twins!”

Maureen frowned. During the short time that had passed since she’d inherited the over-a-century-old Haven House Inn, she’d learned quite a lot about the quirks involved in the reservation department. “A midnight booking?”

Hilda laughed. “It’s okay. It was from California. It was early evening out there.” They both knew that a late-night wedding query could sometimes be the result of an alcohol-inspired proposal, followed by a sober cancellation in the morning. “I got a hefty deposit,” Hilda reported, waving a reservation form. “Anyway, it’s from a theatrical talent agent. Donavan Duncan. Big time. I checked him out. He mentioned that a major bridal magazine, Your Fabulous Wedding, will be covering it.”

“This is great news. I can hardly wait to tell Ted. His kitchen crew will be busy for days! A Hollywood-style double wedding! Wow!” She headed for the green door leading to the inn’s broad wraparound porch. She was confident that Ted Carr, the inn’s handsome and talented executive chef, would welcome the news too. The inn was already becoming well known for their beautiful beach weddings, many of them performed at sunset. For a long time she and Ted had tried hard to make it clear to the Haven House staff that their friendship—including the early morning beach runs—was purely platonic. Hardly anyone had believed it then, and now that Maureen wore an engagement ring, the word around Haven was that the couple would be planning their own beach wedding before long.

With Finn straining at his leash, Maureen pushed open the green door. The porch offered guests a variety of rocking chairs, and Maureen smiled at the four senior citizens whose rockers were lined up, two to a side, at the very head of the wide staircase. Molly, Gert, Sam and George had more or less come along with her inheritance of the inn. The previous management had exchanged room and board, a small salary, and tips for their services—the men as “handymen” and the women as housekeepers. Maureen hadn’t had the heart to change the arrangement. The four were clearly happy there and anyway, she’d come to love them all. Ted’s arrangement as bartender was similar to the others’, and he, along with the older workers, had a room on the first floor of the inn.

There was a cat door at the base of the green entrance to the lobby along with many other similar feline access points throughout the inn. Penelope Josephine had provided them for the comfort of her rescue cats, Bogie and Bacall, who’d come along with the inheritance of the hotel along with the human assemblage.

Maureen moved across the porch to the railing, watching for Ted to appear in the side yard, anxious to tell him about the upcoming double wedding. She wished each of the four a good morning, pausing while Finn accepted ear scratches and head pats and “Good boys” with appropriate woofs. “Everybody okay on this beautiful morning?” she asked. The question received three affirmative nods. But Molly stood, pointing to her assigned rocker.

“Somebody’s been sitting in my chair,” she complained.

Sam, seated in his own rocker, laughed aloud. “Who do you think you are, Mol? Baby Bear?”

Molly, hands on her hips, insisted once again, “Somebody’s been sitting in my chair.”

“Nobody sat in your chair.” Gert spoke calmly. “We’ve all been right here for a good fifteen minutes and it’s way too early for any of the guests to be up and about. Ted has barely started breakfast.”

“It’s my chair,” Molly insisted. “I guess I’d know if anybody besides me had sat in it.”

“Ooooh.” George tried to use a scary whisper. “Maybe it was a g-h-o-s-t.”

“Hush!” Gert glanced around nervously. “What if someone heard you? Do you think spelling makes a difference?”

It hadn’t taken very long for Maureen to learn that the city of Haven, Florida, was very haunted indeed. Virtually every apartment, every house, every business in Haven harbored at least one ghost, spirit, apparition, or specter. She also knew that the citizens of Haven vehemently denied the fact of the hauntings to anyone who asked. The secret was, in fact, extremely well kept. No one in peaceful, pretty Haven wanted the “ghost hunters,” the big TV shows with all their gadgets like voice recorders and night-vision cameras, along with psychics and mediums, running around town, attracting all kinds of snoops and weirdos.

The idea that she’d inherited a haunted inn in a haunted town from an unknown benefactor had been, at first, very hard to accept for the Boston-born, former department store sportswear buyer. Exactly why Penelope Josephine Gray had chosen to give Haven House Inn to her remained a puzzle yet to be definitively solved. But accept it she had, and despite advice from many to tear the place down and sell the land, she was determined to bring the place—dilapidated and neglected as it had been for years—back to life. Her efforts were beginning to pay off.

George apologized for spelling the forbidden word. “Sorry.” He gave a nervous glance around the porch. “It was just a joke. I’m sure nobody heard me.”

“You’re just lucky it’s early and the guests aren’t up yet. There’s darn near a full house,” Sam said. “Ted’s kitchen staff is already cranking out the breakfast buffet. I can smell the bacon and I heard they’re doing a special on eggs Benedict. That one brings the neighbors in too.”

“Sorry,” George said again, in a whisper, while trying to make himself look smaller by hunching his shoulders and putting his feet under the chair.

At last, Ted appeared in the side yard, sprinting toward the front steps. Hurrying across the wide floorboards, she met him at the halfway point of the stairway. They shared a brief hug, both turning to wave to the four assembled at the top of the flight, and began to jog toward the nearby beach. Maureen reached for his hand. “Good news,” she said.

He squeezed her fingers. “I have you in my life. We’re engaged to be married. How much good news can one man take?”

“Silly!” she teased. “Really. We have a super beach wedding booked. Hilda just told me about it. A double wedding between two sets of identical twins. They’re coming from California and there’s a big bridal magazine involved in the publicity.”

“Wow!” he exclaimed. “How did you pull that one off?”

“I didn’t. An agent called us. A Mr. Donavan Duncan. Hilda checked him out. It’s legit. He represents some big names.” Happy smile. “There’s a sit-down dinner reception involved, and as soon as they get a date straightened out there’ll be room reservations for the whole wedding party.”

“This is really big, Maureen.” She heard the growing enthusiasm in his voice.

“I know. I can almost see the wheels spinning in your head, planning the details already.” They jogged toward the hard-packed sand at the water’s edge. She moved ahead and handed Finn’s leash to him. “Race you to the Long Pier Fishing Charter sign,” she challenged. She was sure he’d win the race but the exertion felt good anyway.

Ted leaned against the weather-beaten sign advertising Haven’s fleet of fishing charter boats, pretending he’d been there for hours, Finn panting happily at his feet. The sign itself held a special significance for Maureen. Her parents had taken a picture of her when she was twelve, standing in front of that self-same sign, proudly holding a fish she’d caught. They’d enjoyed eating that fish for dinner, prepared at a small local restaurant. A highly strange thing was, Penelope Josephine Gray also had a print of that picture. Maureen had seen it in a small silver frame in her office—and Ted had told her that his mother had once owned a little restaurant across from the pier.

Coincidence?

Maybe. Maybe not. This entire journey had been a series of highly strange happenings, hadn’t it? The two, along with the golden, turned and headed back to the inn at a slower pace, in companionable silence. They parted at the foot of the stairs with a chaste kiss on the cheek, much to the amusement of the four rockers.

“Gotta hurry and change and get that breakfast buffet going,” Ted told her. “Will I see you there?’

“Sure. I’ve worked up an appetite. Your world-famous eggs Benedict?”

“Right.” With a head-scratch for Finn, he headed into the side door and Maureen proceeded onto the porch and into the lobby.

“I’m going up to shower and change and I’ll be back to relieve you, as soon as I grab a bite of breakfast,” Maureen told Hilda.

“No hurry,” the night clerk said with a smile. “I love being here. Besides, super-waitress Shelly has already sneaked a cup of coffee and a croissant out here to me.”

Maureen bypassed the elevator. She and Finn ducked past the brochure display rack, the guest laundry entrance and the ice machine. The two climbed the stairs to the third floor. As they approached Maureen’s door, she heard the sound of Tiffany’s “I Think We’re Alone Now” sounding from inside.

“It looks as if we’re not alone now,” she told the dog. “We’ve got company.” Unlocking the door, she pushed it open.

“It’s about time you showed up. I’ve been waiting for you.” A familiar feminine voice came from the direction of the long blue couch. “Woof!” Finn bounded happily toward a shimmering figure beginning to take shape. Not too long ago, Maureen would have been startled by the voice and form, but she’d become quite accustomed to the fact that she shared her apartment with the ghost of a long-dead movie starlet.

 

“Oh, hi, Lorna,” Maureen said, facing the beautiful, fair-haired apparition who always appeared in black and white—just as she had in the many 1930s movies she’d made as Lorna DuBois. Today’s outfit featured a fitted black bodice with a deep V neckline and cap sleeves. The full mid-calf white tulle chiffon skirt topped black high-heeled sandals. A simple strand of pearls completed the look.

Lorna gave a perfect model turn. “Like it? Edith Head designed it for Grace Kelly in Rear Window.”

“It’s magnificent,” Maureen agreed. “You say you’ve been waiting for me?”

“Yeah. What’s all this about a double wedding and movie stars and a big magazine story?”

“Where in the world did you hear that?” Maureen was genuinely surprised. How could the news have reached Lorna that quickly? No one except Hilda, Ted, and Maureen herself had been informed of the plan. Within moments, though, she took a guess at the answer. “Quic-Shop?”

“Sure. By now everybody in town knows about it.”

Lorna was undoubtedly correct. Quic-Shop, the neighborhood convenience store, was also an amazingly efficient rumor mill. Maureen never shopped there—too expensive—yet more times than she could count, information about herself, both personal and professional, both correct and wildly inaccurate, had come back to her via the Quic-Shop. The gargantuan gossip generator apparently worked day and night, twenty-four/seven. This was no exception. Without question, she accepted Lorna’s assessment that everybody in town knew about it.

After a fast shower, she slipped into a yellow shorts and halter outfit, part of the wardrobe she’d acquired at cost when Bartlett’s of Boston had closed its massive doors on the handsome old brick-and-mortar building for the last time. She put Finn’s fresh from the refrigerator breakfast into his red bowl. “Keep an eye on Finn, will you, Lorna?”

“Sure. The old movie channel is running Lassie episodes all month. He loves watching them.”

“The ones about Timmy falling in the well?”

“Woof,” Finn agreed. “Woof woof.”

Leaving Finn and Lorna watching Lassie, this time she took the elevator down to the lobby, pausing when Hilda motioned to her. “I just had another call from Hollywood.” The night clerk did not look happy. “They’ve got the date straightened out for that big beach wedding. Made the reservations for the cast and film crew too.”

“Good. What’s the date?” Maureen’s smile was excited.

“They’ll arrive at Tampa airport tomorrow around six a.m. The magazine editor wants to feature it in their June edition. Bridal season, you know?” Hilda rolled her eyes. “She says production of a feature like that takes time. They need to do all the pictures, the wedding on the beach, the reception, everything needs to be done right away to make their deadline.”

“Tomorrow morning.” Maureen said in a monotone. “Tomorrow? What did you tell them?”

“I told them we could do it,” Hilda said. “We have more than enough rooms in this big old place, and it’s just another beach wedding, after all, isn’t it?”

Maureen gulped. It was true, she reasoned, trying hard not to panic. It was, after all, just another beach wedding. Well, a really big beach wedding. “I need to tell Ted. There’ll be food to plan.”

“Oh yeah.” Hilda snapped her fingers. “About the food. The magazine editor needs to have all the food parts photographed first because they want to print the recipes. So please tell Ted he can start with the rehearsal dinner, then the sit-down reception and whatever other food things he’s thinking about—and don’t worry about the cost. The magazine is picking up the tab for all of the groceries and labor involved.”

“Tomorrow? A complete rehearsal dinner? A sit-down wedding reception? Sure. I need to tell Ted,” she said again. “There’ll be food to plan. How many will we be feeding?”

Hilda counted on her fingers. “It’ll be the identical twin grooms and brides, and the bridesmaids and groomsmen. The agent and publicity people and a photographer from the bridal magazine are coming too. I put them all on the second floor. The Arthur Godfrey, the Frank Sinatra, the Lucille Ball, the Milton Berle, the Burt Reynolds, and actually most of the second floor. They’re hiring a hundred or so local extras to play wedding guests, but we don’t need rooms for them.”

Maureen nodded her approval. “Sounds good.” All of the well-known folks whose namesake suites Hilda had mentioned had stayed at the inn at one time or another, as well as many more. Penelope Josephine had left a stack of guest registers filled with famous names—and signatures. “I’ll tell Ted about it, right now,” she said. “He’ll want to show them that our inn is not only charming and comfortable, but that our dining experience is first class too.”

Confident that Quic-Shop already had the news, she headed for the green dining room, looking forward to Ted’s promised eggs Benedict special. She paused to greet some of the early-rising guests seated at Penelope Josephine’s wonderful vintage round oak tables. Each table was topped with an age-softened, snowy-white linen tablecloth, some with careful tiny-stitched hand mending. She’d opted to continue using Penelope Josephine’s cloth napkins too. The guests liked them and Maureen was pleased that she wasn’t contributing to the environmental impact of discarded disposable paper foodware packaging. The dining chairs were tastefully mismatched, each with its own pressed-wood faux carvings, each stained in harmonizing wood tones. Some of the nearby neighbors had already arrived. Dick and Ethel Flannagan, seated with Aster Patterson, proprietor of the Haven Bookshop, greeted her with a chorus of cheery hellos. Breakfast at the inn had become popular with both tourists and local folks, and lunch business continued to bring in enough money to keep the dining room in the black even during a slow month.

Sam appeared in the lobby and motioned to her. “What’s up, Sam?” she asked.

It was no surprise to Maureen when a blue-and-white Haven PD cruiser pulled up on the lawn beside the front steps and Haven’s top cop, Frank Hubbard, stepped out and climbed the stairs. “Good morning, Officer Hubbard,” she greeted him. “Will you be joining us for breakfast?”

“What’s going on here, Doherty?” he questioned, frowning. “I hear there’s a bunch of out-of-towners coming to Haven. From California.” He was clearly not pleased.

“Just a beach wedding,” she said. “Coffee?”

“I hear it’s going to be a big one,” he growled. “I hope there won’t be any trouble.” He accepted a to-go cup from Shelly.

“Certainly not,” Maureen assured him. “They’ll be here to take some photos for a bridal magazine. Then the wedding will be on the beach as usual. Nothing to worry about at all.”

“I’ll be around to keep an eye on things,” he promised.

She thanked him politely and continued on her way to the dining room. Slipping behind the decorative screen shielding of the kitchen door, she carefully pushed it open, making sure the glass window showed no one approaching from the other side. She spotted Ted right away. She knew he’d been at work in the kitchen since early morning, but somehow he looked as if he’d just stepped out of a shower, the snowy-white chef’s jacket unwrinkled and immaculate, hair neatly groomed, even his shoes looked freshly polished. How does he do that? she wondered. He’s been on his feet since sun-up and he looks like a TV cooking show host straight from central casting.

She pau. . .