Midnight Spells Murder

Book 2: Happy Camper Mystery

by Mary Angela

Genres: Amateur Sleuth; Mystery

Synopsis

Spirit Canyon’s annual Spirit Spooktacular weekend is on, and for local amateur sleuth Zo Jones, it’s boomtime for business at her Happy Camper gift shop . . . until a murderer drops in for a browse.
 
To celebrate Halloween at the Happy Camper, Zo schedules a talk by successful author and self-proclaimed witch Marianne Morgan. Although Marianne’s benign brand of witchcraft is more about feminine empowerment than black magic, her presence is still not welcomed by everyone. Then on a midnight stroll home, Zo spots what seems to be a new Halloween decoration propped up outside the Happy Camper. What she finds is not a mannequin but a dead Marianne, her lifeless body dressed in traditional witch’s garb. But why would someone send this good witch back to the spirit world permanently?
 
Soon Zo realizes that plenty of folks have motives for murdering Marianne. What’s worse, nosy TV newsman Justin Castle plans to broadcast a report associating Marianne’s murder with the Happy Camper. Zo calls on her partner in sleuthing, local forest ranger Max Harrington, to help her find the culprit before Justin’s report airs. Otherwise Zo’s business just might go bust. But to catch this killer, Zo will have to risk much more than just her reputation . . .
 

Release date: July 13, 2021

Publisher: Lyrical Press

Print pages: 304

Sample

Chapter One

“Of course I believe in witches.” Jules squared her shoulders. “I am one.”

Harley paused decorating mid-cobweb, but Zo continued tacking up the orange and white twinkle lights at Happy Camper gift store. Marianne Morgan’s book talk was in an hour, and she needed to finish getting ready. Besides, she knew what was coming next. She and Julia Parker had been friends since grade school.

“Seriously? You’re a witch?” asked Harley, Zo’s employee. A dedicated accounting student, she was puzzled by Jules’s revelation. If Harley couldn’t add, subtract, or multiply it, it didn’t make sense.

Jules placed the cauldron on the table, her sleeve brushing the gossamer webs surrounding the pot. “I come from a long line of witches. My great-aunt was a witch, her daughter was a witch, and I have several cousins who practice. If you need a spell, I can hook you up. Just let me know before the end of October. I’m running a sale.”

At Spirits & Spirits, there was always a sale. Jules not only communicated with spirits, she sold spirits of the alcohol variety. Zo admired her entrepreneurial spirit. Since they were kids, Jules had been making money off the town’s name, Spirit Canyon. She was glad Jules had volunteered to help with the book event.

Zo stepped down from the ladder. “Marianne’s talk is ‘Embracing Your Inner Witch.’ It isn’t about spells or magic. It’s about reclaiming your power as a woman. Her book is really good.” Zo had ordered twenty copies for today’s talk. She hoped it was enough. With Halloween on the way, she had a feeling it would be popular.

“I dig all this witch stuff, though.” Jules motioned to the table of food set up in front of the folding chairs.

Zo smiled. It was a witchy smorgasbord. The cupcakes, or Cackle Cakes, as she liked to call them, resembled witches’ hats with green frosting, a chocolate cookie, and a candy kiss. The cauldron was filled with lime punch, and the snack mix was arranged in individual green and purple paper cones. The scene screamed Halloween.

“It fits this weekend’s festivities, that’s for sure,” said Zo. Spirit Spooktacular was one of Spirit Canyon’s busiest weekends. The town had several events that led up to Halloween, including a pumpkin-carving contest, a parade, and a costume party, which Zo was hosting. Tourists flocked to Spirit Canyon not only for the events but also for the fall foliage in Black Hills National Forest. Right now the canyon was a menagerie of yellow, red, and russet trees, and the crisp autumn air made the weather perfect for sightseeing. Zo inhaled. Her store smelled like pumpkin spice. Yum!

“Do you think we have enough chairs?” asked Harley. The dark purple streaks in her black pixie cut flickered as her head bobbed, counting the seats.

“I hope so,” said Zo. “Those are all the chairs I have.” Happy Camper was a gift store, not a bookshop, but Zo Jones sold books and hosted events that fit her store’s positive vibe. For October, she’d ordered merchandise that said Eat, Drink, and Be Scary and shirts with the phrase Trust Your Magic on them.

“If you need more folding chairs, I can run back to Spirits & Spirits,” Jules offered. “I have at least five. I’d like to check on Duncan anyway. Do you know I caught him handing out punch cards? Buy five music lessons get one free? I told him to peddle his music on his dime, not mine.”

“Who cares what he does?” Harley arranged the orange napkins emblazoned with Drink Up, Witches next to the punch. “Duncan Hall is hot.”

“Evil Woman” filled the void left by the pause in conversation. The song hummed from the antique record player in the corner. Nobody could argue with Harley’s declaration. Duncan was definitely hot. He was also a musician who gave guitar lessons. Zo guessed the classes didn’t pay the bills because he was working at Spirits & Spirits part-time now.

“Being good looking doesn’t give him a free pass,” said Jules. “Though, I have noticed an uptick in my female customers.”

When the door opened, Zo assumed it was the author, but it was Max Harrington, a local forest ranger. “Hey, Max. We were just talking about your roommate.”

“What’d he do now?” Max stopped in front of the book display. “This is nice.”

“Thank you.” Zo smiled.

“He’s handing out punch cards for guitar lessons to my customers,” Jules explained, joining Max. She was almost as tall as him, and Harley was close behind. In their company, Zo’s five-feet-five felt short.

“I found some in my jacket pocket the other day,” said Max. “He’s not getting much business lately. The college didn’t hand out his flyer this year.”

“Change in curriculum?” asked Harley.

“Change in dating status.” Max’s sky-blue eyes sparkled. “Duncan dumped the president’s daughter.”

“Bad career move.” Zo chuckled. When Max picked up one of Marianne’s books, she added, “Are you here to embrace your inner witch?”

“No, I’m on good terms with her. I want to sign up for the Harvest Hike on Sunday.”

Harley flinched. Jules gave Zo a sideways glance.

Zo counted to five and silently recited the mantra on her witch t-shirt: Keep Calm and Fly On. Max had opinions about her guided tours, opinions she didn’t share. He claimed they were unsafe. She knew they were a good source of revenue, especially for tourists who didn’t want the rugged outdoor experience. In the Black Hills, visitors could climb, raft, or bungee jump. They could see Mount Rushmore by helicopter and Crazy Horse by paraglide. But many didn’t want to. Lots of people wanted a brief walking tour of the area and a little history of the canyon. That’s what Zo provided.

“I’ll see if there’s room.” Zo walked to the counter, where she kept her event log.

He followed her. “I’m sure you could make room for one extra person.”

A six-foot ranger with the subtleness of a mountain lion? She wasn’t so sure. She opened the planner, smoothing the pages. She ran her finger down the list of names.

Max leaned over the counter and pointed to the number ten. It had an empty space behind it. “Lucky me. One spot left.”

“Jules, didn’t you mention coming?” Zo hoped her friend would catch the hint.

“Nature’s your thing, not mine,” said Jules. “I hate bugs.”

“I thought witches were in tune with Mother Earth,” said Harley.

Jules picked her fingernail. “I use herbs all the time.”

Max pulled his wallet out of his green uniform pants. “Great. That means I can come. How much do I owe you?”

“So you can spy on me?” asked Zo.

“Why do I need a reason?”

“Because you hike this area all the time.” Zo tapped her pen. “Why would you want to go with a bunch of tourists?”

“You’ll be there, too,” said Max.

“Exactly.” Zo nodded.

“Exactly.”

Jules looked up from her nail.

Zo scribbled his name in the book. “Fine, thirty-five dollars. But not one word of ranger talk. This is a fun, casual event.”

He handed her the money. “That’s kind of expensive for a one-hour hike.”

She put the bills in the register and smiled her sweetest smile. “Don’t worry. It includes the nature scrapbook we’ll be using.”

“What do you mean, ‘scrapbook?’” Max’s eyes widened.

“The things we find on the hike?” said Zo. “We’ll be putting them into a scrapbook. You know how to use a glue gun, don’t you?”

Max’s brow wrinkled in confusion. “On second thought, maybe I’ll sit this one out.”

“Sorry,” Zo apologized, still smiling. “No refunds.”

Chapter Two

After Max left, customers began to file in for the book event. Zo checked the time. The talk was twenty minutes away, but the moment she put out the sidewalk sign, people took notice. Though it was Thursday, plenty of tourists were already in town for Spirit Spooktacular. They didn’t want to miss any of the festivities, and the fun started early tomorrow. Customers mingled in the store, commenting on the fun quotes and cute space. Zo was helping a woman select a bison postcard when Marianne Morgan breezed in the door, wearing a long dress, blue headscarf, and black shoes with gold buckles. A young woman, maybe her daughter, was close behind.

“I thought she wasn’t that type of witch,” Jules muttered.

“I stand corrected,” whispered Zo. Though Marianne lived in Spirit Canyon, Zo had never heard of her until she read an article about her new book. The feature was in Canyon Views and described the local author making it big. The book was a USA Today bestseller, and Zo downloaded it after reading the article. She loved it and knew her customers would, too. That’s when she reached out to Marianne, who generously agreed to come to the store.

Zo greeted Marianne with an outstretched hand. “You must be Marianne. I’m Zo Jones. It’s so good to meet you in person. I feel like I already know you from reading your book.”

Marianne handed the young woman her tabbed book and planner. She shook Zo’s hand. “It’s good to meet you. Thanks for having me. I need that sign on the door.”

Zo pointed to the display of signs: Not All Witches Live in Salem. “That one? I just happen to have some left.”

“Perfect,” said Marianne. “I’m buying one when we’re finished. By the way, this is my daughter, Emily. She’s been a dear to do these events with me, even with her busy year as a freshman at Black Mountain College.”

“Hi.” Unlike her mom, Emily wore jeans and a simple white cable-knit sweater. Her hair was as light as her mom’s was dark, but their brown eyes were the same, serious and sincere. Carrying postcards, bookmarks, and pens, she displayed the maturity of a well-organized adult, and without Marianne’s information, Zo would have taken her for a college graduate.

“Hi, Emily,” said Zo. “This is my friend Jules. She’ll be helping me today, along with my employee, Harley. If you need anything during the event, just ask one of us.”

Marianne paused on Jules’s face. “I think you used to date my boyfriend, Roberto Salvo.”

Jules nodded. “It’s been awhile. How’s he doing?”

“Good,” said Marianne. “He’ll be here today. Any minute.”

“Cool.” Jules pulled her long fishtail braid over one shoulder. It was a dazzling mix of blond layers and pink ends. “We can catch up.”

“If there’s time,” added Marianne. “As you know, he’s a very busy guy.”

Jules smiled but said nothing.

Zo needed to ask Jules about Roberto, but now wasn’t the time. She didn’t recognize the name, which didn’t mean much. They both had dating failures they didn’t bring up. A boyfriend had to become newsworthy before they exchanged details. She motioned Marianne to the area of the book talk. “In a few minutes, we’ll get started. I’ll introduce you, you’ll talk, and then sign books and enjoy treats afterward.”

Marianne smiled at the display. “I’ve never been to an event this witchy. I love it.”

“It’s the eve of Spirit Spooktacular.” Zo shrugged. “It can’t be witchy enough, in my opinion.”

“I agree,” said Jules. “You’re bound to make a fortune on Halloween décor alone.”

Zo chuckled. For Jules, it was all about the bottom line, but for Zo it was about getting together with friends, making food, and planning for the holidays. Her customers were like family, her store an extension of her home. Some people were born into large families; others made their own. Upstairs were her living quarters, the second story of the cabin. It sure made the commute easy. All she had to do was walk downstairs to open the doors of Happy Camper.

Marianne followed Zo to the vintage music stand that she used as a speaker podium for events. The stand had two candleholders on each side of the music holder, and Zo had placed black candles in them for the occasion.

Emily touched Marianne’s shoulder. “Shouldn’t we wait for Roberto?”

“Like I said, he’ll be here any minute.” She put her hands on her daughter’s shoulders. “The first step in embracing your power is to set your own schedule. Don’t wait on others.”

“Funny how my schedule is your schedule,” mumbled Emily.

Marianne didn’t hear the remark or if she did, she ignored it. Getting ready to speak, she was busy arranging her notes on the podium.

A single chair was available, so when the door opened and the bell rang out, Zo worried she’d need to find another guest seat, perhaps the stool behind the counter. Apparently, it was Marianne’s boyfriend and a young man Zo assumed was his son. Marianne gave them a wave, and they joined the group. Roberto took the open chair, but his son hung back near the wall. He didn’t appear excited to be there, so Zo skipped grabbing the stool.

“Readers, friends…witches,” Marianne began her talk.

With the candles flickering and black tendrils of hair escaping her blue headscarf, Marianne looked like a witch, the traditional kind. While reading Marianne’s book, Zo learned witches were once considered wise women and healers, and hags were nonconformists. They were called on for help, remedies, and contacting the dead. It was modern society that labeled them undesirable and ugly. Hence the green face, warts, and hunched-back people identified with witches today.

Marianne didn’t give the full history lesson from her book, though. Instead she told participants how to recall their inner witch: the powerful, passionate, magical person they’d been told was unattractive and unladylike. It might feel like waking or a memory, something dismissed or buried. All that they needed was within them. They just needed to find and trust it. Approval came from within, not from others. Zo liked that idea.

“I invite you to invoke your power now,” said Marianne. “Say it with me. ‘I take back my power’. Feel it returning from all the places you’ve left it: jobs, boyfriends, family members. Let’s try it together.”

“I take back my power,” the group murmured, Zo along with them. As a child, she’d survived foster care by adhering to the belief that she had power over her own destiny. She might not have been able to choose what house she lived in or what clothes she wore, but she could plan for her future. And with a lot of determination, here she was.

“Again.” Marianne closed her eyes.

The group repeated the words louder, liking the idea of becoming stronger and more whole.

From the back of the room, Roberto’s son snickered. The moment was broken.

Marianne’s eyes flew open. “Seek from within, friends. Pay no attention to small-minded people who thrive on greed and lies. They have no idea about real power or happiness. You can’t buy it. It’s not for sale.”

The words were meant as an assault on Roberto’s son. Clearly, Roberto could tell, and so could Zo. Short and stocky, the boy walked away, fists clenched at his sides. Zo was glad Roberto didn’t go after him. She had a feeling his son would make a bigger scene if given the opportunity. Instead, Roberto stared straight ahead, listening to the rest of Marianne’s talk with respect and perhaps even reverence. He obviously admired her a great deal.

When she finished speaking, Marianne asked if readers had questions. A few hands went up, and Zo joined her at the podium to moderate the remainder of the event.

“Nikki Ainsworth.” Marianne smiled at a woman clad in red. “For those of you who don’t know her, this woman is responsible for single-handedly renovating Spirit Canyon’s opera house.”

The audience members turned their heads and clapped.

Standing, Nikki took a little bow. Tall and slender, she was the managing theater director but could have been a model or an actress. She had the bones for it—and the clothes. Her red blouse looked expensive, and her posture was picture perfect. “Thank you, Marianne, but you’re the one who deserves the applause. I really enjoyed the book and recommend it to everyone here. It has practical advice for obtaining goals, which I appreciate.”

Marianne beamed. “Thank you, Nikki. That means a lot. You’ve never been afraid to go after what you want, and I admire that.” She pointed to another participant. “Yes, in the blue shirt?”

The woman in blue opened up her well-thumbed copy of the text. “In the book, you say readers need to identify the negative energy and negative people weighing them down. Are the examples based on personal experiences?”

“They are.” Marianne paused thoughtfully. Maybe she was deciding how much personal information to divulge. “My ex-husband, for one. He told me I wasn’t good enough, and after being told it enough times, I believed it.” She glanced at Emily, who was staring into her lap. “But I don’t want to get into that here. The point is to recognize the negative people in your life. They will drain your power if you let them. Don’t let them. Don’t try to change them. Let them go.”

The woman in the blue shirt nodded, and the room fell quiet.

“Any other questions for Marianne?” Zo asked.

Tiffany Snow, a town volunteer and do-gooder, stepped forward. She must have come in late because Zo hadn’t seen her. With her fall sweater, skinny jeans, and ankle boots, she looked as if she was ready to lead a PTA meeting or school cheer. Her loose ringlets were tied into a girlish ponytail. Zo didn’t think she went anywhere without curling her hair.

“First, I just want to let you all know that I’m taking orders for holiday wreaths.” She smiled at the group, showing off ultra-white teeth. “You know how beautiful they are, and they’re for a good cause.”

Zo sighed. Tiffany was here to hawk her kids’ holiday wreaths.

“Second, to the author, your book needs an adult rating so that it doesn’t get into the wrong hands,” continued Tiffany. “My daughter picked it up at the bookstore, probably because of the witch on the cover. Before I could stop her, she was reading a spell—out loud!”

“There are no ‘spells’ in the book,” explained Marianne. “Even if there were, I don’t believe in censorship. This book is for everyone, especially young girls.”

Tiffany crossed her arms. “I’m going to assert my power and say that I heartily disagree.”

“That’s your right,” said Marianne. “Good for you.”

With no other questions, Zo decided this was a good time to mention the snacks. Her customers expected an upbeat atmosphere, and Marianne had turned Tiffany’s complaint into a positive. It was a nice place to conclude. “If there are no other questions, help yourself to a treat while Marianne signs books. Thanks so much for coming out, and don’t forget. I’ll be giving away apple cider to trick-or-treaters and their parents on Halloween. Stop by and warm up.”

Zo pointed to the table near the podium, and Marianne and her daughter situated themselves near the stack of books. A line formed quickly, and shoppers munched on snacks while talking or waiting to purchase books. Zo stayed with Marianne and Emily to help with pictures while Harley rang up sales and Jules managed the food table. Zo noticed Roberto sneaking out the front door, perhaps to retrieve his son. When he came back alone, she realized the attempt was unsuccessful. His son must have been put out by Marianne’s comments, and Zo wondered what she’d meant by them.

Jules touched Zo’s elbow. “Miss Priss is peddling her wreath order form near the snack table. What do you want me to do about it?”

“I’ll take care of it,” said Zo. “Would you mind staying with Marianne?”

“No problem.”

Zo handed Jules the camera and walked toward Tiffany, smiling at customers who were enjoying the food. She had to say something to Tiffany. She didn’t want her wreath campaign cannibalizing Marianne’s book sales. Despite Happy Camper being a small local gift shop, Marianne agreed to come, speak, and sign books. Zo knew she had bigger signings she could have attended, and Zo wanted to show her appreciation with decent book sales. Tiffany was jeopardizing that.

With a leg propped up like a table, Tiffany was writing out a receipt for a wreath. She exchanged the paper for a customer’s check and tucked it in with the many others in her accordion folder. She clicked her pen as Zo approached. “Last year you bought a wreath, so you know how wonderful they look and smell. What about two this year? One for the store and one for your home?”

“You’re right,” Zo agreed. “They are beautiful, and I’d be happy to make a purchase. But I need to ask you to sell the wreaths on your own time. This event is part of Marianne’s book launch, not a fund-raising event.”

Tiffany snapped shut her folder with a huff. “Fine. I’ll come back.”

“Perfect,” said Zo. “Thanks so much.”

Her curly ponytail swung back and forth as she marched out. Zo joined Harley at the register. “Do you know where Roberto’s son went?”

“His name is Alex,” said Harley.

“How do you know him?”

“I’m a math tutor at his high school. He claims he’s going to an Ivy League school next year.” Harley rolled her eyes, expertly outlined in black liner. Her heavy bangs, which came to a point on her forehead, emphasized her dramatic look.

“H. . .