Murder at Cape Costumers

Book 7: Cozy Capers Book Group Mystery

by Maddie Day

Genres: Amateur Sleuth; Female Sleuths; Mystery; Culinary Cozy Mysteries

Synopsis

In Agatha Award-winner Maddie Day’s delightfully spooky Cozy Capers Book Group mystery, it’s Halloween, and Cape Cod bike shop owner Mackenzie “Mac” Almeida and her book club must unmask a killer…

Just in time for Halloween, a new costume shop has opened on Main Street in Westham, Massachusetts. Cape Costumers is a cut above the usual seasonal pop-up stores with their flimsy mass-produced outfits and cheap plastic masks, mostly due to co-owner Shelly, a former Broadway costume designer. But when Shelly discovers her elderly boyfriend Enzo—a Broadway star who retired to Westham—dead of unnatural causes, Halloween suddenly gets a lot scarier.

Sleuthing, Mac has found, is a lot like riding a bicycle: once you learn how, you never forget. Far from being spooked, Mac and the members of the Cozy Capers Book Group put down their weekly book selection and put their heads together to see past a bag of tricks and find a malice-making murderer who’s hiding in plain sight . . .

Release date: August 26, 2025

Publisher: Kensington Books

Print pages: 288

Sample

The streets of Westham, Massachusetts, were filled with pirates and princesses, devils and angels, skeletons and superheroes on this Friday afternoon in late October, but our coastal Cape Cod town wasn’t the site of a movie filming. The costumed residents were all in various sizes of miniature and were making their way along Main Street in our annual merchants’ trick-or-treat event.

Shops and restaurants were decorated to the hilt for Halloween, with spiders and bats and jack-o’-lanterns everywhere you looked. Candy was at the ready in baskets and bowls to slip into kids’ bags or hollow plastic pumpkins. Actual Halloween wasn’t until Monday, but this was a special afternoon event downtown. We’d had a steady stream of kiddos coming into Mac’s Bikes for candy since an hour ago when the event began at two o’clock.

A three-foot-something Wonder Woman skipped into my retail, repair, and rental shop.

“Titi Mac, look at me!” my niece Cokey exclaimed as she twirled in a circle with all the happy energy of a six year old, her red cape flying out from her back. Red tights and yellow sneakers replaced the knee-high boots of the original superhero.

“You look powerful.” I came around from behind the counter at my shop and knelt for a hug.

“I am.”

My grandmother Reba, a rather miniature person herself, followed Cokey in. On her short-cropped white Afro she wore a pointed wizard’s hat studded with stars and moons. A midnight-blue cape to match nearly swept the floor. I hugged her too.

“Are you getting some good loot, Cokester?” I asked my niece.

“Yes.” She held out her bucket and began detailing all the candies.

“Pick one from our bowl, okay?” I picked up the big bowl on the counter, now only half full, and held it down for her.

“Thank you.” She rifled through until she found a candy bar she liked. “I saw a scary skeleton in the window.”

“What window?” I tilted my head.

“In that new shop, Cape Costumers,” Reba said.

“It was moving, Titi Mac.” A curly blond lock fell over Cokey’s yellow satin headband.

I smoothed the hair away from the red star on her forehead. “Was it a puppet or an animation?”

“It was as big as a person.” Her eyes were wide. “What’s a amination?”

“It’s like in the cartoons or the movies, like Moana or SpongeBob SquarePants.” I mentioned two of her favorite animated characters. “Were you frightened of the skeleton?”

“A little bit.” She nodded slowly, 100 percent serious. “But Bizabo held my hand. We stayed outside, and it was inside the store.”

“We decided against picking up candy at that location,” Reba murmured.

My mechanic, Orlean, appeared in the doorway of the repair room. “Cokey? I have something for you.”

The girl skipped back there. Orlean, usually a woman of few words, had a special soft spot for Cokey.

“Why would they display something scary on a day meant for children?” I asked my grandma.

“I have no idea. It was, you know, a regular costume, white on black, not just the bones of a skeleton, plus a head mask. I also thought it looked like a real person was wearing it, but maybe the getup was rigged to move around.”

“Have you met the owners?”

“Not as yet, no,” Reba said. “I’ve heard that Harini Whitt had a long career as a ballerina.”

“I didn’t know that. Gin Malloy said Harini asked if she can join our book club. I haven’t met her or Shelly Hitchcock yet.”

Cokey twirled her way back to us, her star-spangled blue skirt flaring out around her.

“Let’s go, Bizabo. There’s lots more stores, and Tio Tim said he was saving a special treat for me.”

Tio Tim, a devoted uncle who adored Cokey, was also my handsome and brilliant husband as well as owner and chief baker at Greta’s Grains, the bakery down the street.

Reba smiled as Cokey tugged at her hand. “I guess we’re off.”

“Happy Halloween.” I watched the wizard and the superhero trundle down the sidewalk hand in hand.

Cokey wasn’t a fearful child. She’d always been curious and confident. For something in a costume shop window to scare her took a lot. I would take a stroll down there after we closed at five today and have a look at this skeleton myself.

Harini and Shelly, apparently friends and business partners, had opened Cape Costumers only a month earlier in what had been an empty storefront. I wasn’t the only Main Street shopkeeper to hope it was a permanent business and not merely a pop-up for the spookiest holiday of the year.

By the time I arrived at Cape Costumers at five thirty, the sun was about to set and a chilly wind whipped in from the bay. The change from daylight saving time to standard wouldn’t happen for another eight days, but the evenings already came early, and the nights were dark.

Store windows along Main Street were lit, as were the antique-style lights on lampposts. Tim’s bakery was dark, as always at the end of the afternoon, because it opened early every day. The Rusty Anchor Pub looked so warm and welcoming I was tempted to stop in. Tim and I had a date night planned, though, and I’d promised to be home by six.

At the corner I crossed to the other side of the main drag. The costume shop was beyond the library nearly to Salty Taffy’s, my friend Gin’s candy store.

When I got to Cape Costumers, I skirted a real black cat staring at me from atop a hay bale on the sidewalk. Cats and most dogs didn’t play nicely with my allergies, which was why I was the human for an African gray parrot named Belle.

One front window of the shop was devoid of a life-size skeleton, bones or otherwise. Bats and spiderwebbing and pumpkins, sure, along with a suit of armor and a Darth Vader getup. In the window on the other side of the entrance, though, an all-bones skeleton slumped in an antique armchair, with a dog skeleton waiting eagerly in eternity for its treat. The skeletons were flanked by a ghoulish, person-sized lobster, its mouth agape as if The Scream painting had come to live in a crustacean. Wearing the uniform of a police chief, a white-faced, featureless mannequin with no hands stood at attention on the opposite side.

I shuddered but pulled open the door. While I was here, I might as well introduce myself.

“Welcome to Cape Costumers,” a woman said. She came around from behind a counter at the side of the store.

“I’m Mac Almeida.” I extended my hand. “Owner of Mac’s Bikes down the street. Welcome to Westham.”

“Shelly Hitchcock, co-owner here. Good to meet you, Mac.” She shook my hand. Hers was bony and cool, with heavy silver rings on both hands. She looked to be in her sixties, with reddish-brown hair in a short chic-shaggy cut. She stood a couple of inches shorter than my five foot seven. A black-and-white silk scarf was artfully loose around her neck, and she wore a black-and-silver long-sleeved dress on her lean frame.

“You had good timing, opening close to Halloween,” I said. “The nearest party store is quite a drive away in Hyannis.” I glanced around the space. Racks held costumes ranging from a medieval maiden to Princess Leia to a classic cowboy to a Ghanaian king. I didn’t see a single sexy nurse outfit or cheap polyester costume made overseas.

“Halloween’s a big time for a costume shop, even a high end one like ours. We hope to do business throughout the year, of course, and we can fill custom orders. We also have a dance section for all ages.” She gestured to the far wall.

“That’s smart. What brought you to Westham in particular?”

“Who doesn’t love Cape Cod?” Her smile was tight.

“For sure.”

Shelly cleared her throat. “And I have a friend with ties to the area.”

“Your business partner? Harini, right? I haven’t met her, but she asked to join a book club I’m part of.”

“That’s her name, but no. Someone else.” This time her cheeks pinked up.

“Well, we’re glad to have you among the merchants here. Our Chamber of Commerce is pretty active. I hope I’ll see you at a meeting soon.”

“Thank you. I’ve already been approached by the director. Are you from Westham?”

I laughed. “I sure am. My whole family is here. My grandma’s a fixture around town. My dad’s a minister, my mom is a popular astrologer—”

“Astra MacKenzie?”

“The same.”

“She’s wonderful. I’ve already had a consultation with her.”

“That’s great.” I kept myself from rolling my eyes. I adored my mother, but I considered astrology a sham. At least it was a harmless one. “Well, I’ll let you get back to whatever.”

“Are you all set for the holiday?”

“Yep.” By that I meant I had several big bags of mini candy bars hidden away at home. I didn’t do costumes. Ever.

“If you need a last-minute accessory, you know where to find me.”

“You bet. Speaking of costumes, my niece said she saw a skeleton moving in your window earlier this afternoon. She thought it was a real person, but I didn’t see a skeleton there when I came in.”

“She wasn’t mistaken. A friend of mine was trying on that costume and started fooling around, playing at being a mannequin.”

“I see. Thanks.” I turned to go, then turned back. “Why costumes, anyway? I mean, it’s an unusual kind of business to open.”

“I was a costumer on Broadway for many years.” She lifted her chin in pride. “My costumes were highly prized and contributed to more than one Tony Award for productions. It’s hard to detach from that kind of career.”

“That makes sense,” I said. “So you moved here from New York?”

“I did. I’m a real city girl, and it’s the first time I’ve lived somewhere so quiet.”

“I know what you mean, but you’ll get used to it.” I smiled. “I went from owning a condo and working in busy downtown Boston to two years in a village in Thailand. The quiet there spoiled me, and after my Peace Corps stint was up, I came back here instead of resuming the urban lifestyle.”

I said goodbye and made my way out. Shelly had blushed when she mentioned the friend with ties to here. I would have asked the friend’s name, but I’d already been nearly grilling the newcomer. I was pretty sure Shelly had a romantic situation with the friend.

Cokey might not be reassured that her skeleton was merely a real person in a costume. Something must have been way off for her to be so freaked out about what she’d seen.

A slender man walking with a cane browsed the display bikes in my shop the next afternoon. His dark hair, which fell over his collar, had a fair bit of silver highlighting it. When I approached, he turned slowly and with care. I didn’t think I’d ever seen him before.

“Can I help you, sir?” I asked.

“Thank you, miss.” He flashed a smile full of perfect white teeth. His skin was lined, but his brown eyes were warm and not faded, and his features went together in a way that spelled handsome and possibly leading man. “I’m afraid with the advancing years my balance has become precarious. I’d still like to keep moving, however, and my friend Reba said I might find a three-wheeled bicycle here.” His voice was still strong and smooth.

“Reba is my grandmother.” My eyebrows rose.

“So she mentioned.”

“I’m Mac. Mac Almeida, and of course I can help you with an adult tricycle.” Sofia Burtseva, one of my weekend employees, had called in sick this morning. I’d made my way over to the shop to replace the former waitress who had become a cycling enthusiast.

“Enzo Lawrence at your service, Mac.”

“I’m so pleased to meet you, Enzo. Are you visiting Westham?”

“No, I moved here several years ago,” he said.

I waited for more, but he stayed silent. Sometimes it seemed like I knew everybody in town, but I didn’t, and it wasn’t my place to pry about where he’d come from and where he now lived. I could always ask Abo Reba.

“Well, our Shining Sea Trail is perfect for cycling on,” I said.

“Is the path very hilly?” he asked. “I’m afraid my heart is going the way of my balance, and my doctor has ordered me not to overly stress it.”

“The trail is a former rail line, so it doesn’t have many hills. Reba takes her three-wheeler on it, and my mother rides one too.”

“If your dynamite grandmother can ride the trail, I expect I can, as well. Sell me a transport, my dear.” Enzo beamed.

“I’d be happy to. We have one back here in green, or I can order a model in another color.”

“Green would be splendid.” He ran a hand down the front of his Pendleton shirt, which was plaid in muted shades of green. “I am fond of the color.”

“Would you like to try riding the trike in the parking lot before you commit to buying it?” I asked.

“I don’t think so. I have somewhere I need to get to after I leave here. But I suppose I should get kitted out with a helmet, a reflective jacket, lights, and all whatnot. You’ll put together the whole package for me, yes?”

“We can certainly do that.” I pushed a slip toward him. “Please jot down your phone number and address for our records.”

After we talked about his size, I assembled a full riding ensemble, and he didn’t blink at the price of anything. After I rang up his purchases, he handed me five hundred-dollar bills.

“I know it makes me seem old-fashioned, but I prefer to deal in cash. That way, if I fall down dead one of these days, my estate won’t have credit card bills pending. And I don’t trust those app thingies.”

“It’s no problem. I still have a cash drawer.” I gave him his six dollars of change and thanked him.

“I’ve been enjoying your Halloween decor in here, Mac.” He gestured around the shop.

“Thanks.” With Cokey’s help, I’d decorated with twisted orange and black streamers. Ceramic jack-o’-lanterns were scattered about, and bats were suspended from several of the wall racks. A small plastic skeleton wearing an orange bike helmet sat on a child-sized tricycle.

“What costume will you be wearing Monday?” Enzo asked.

“I don’t wear costumes.”

His jaw dropped. “Not for any occasion?”

“Nope. I’m never in a performance, and it’s not my thing to dress like a character or whatever.”

“I have worn splendid costumes in the past.” He got a dreamy look in his eyes, gazing into the distance.

“Are you an actor?” Maybe my thought about him being a leading man had been correct.

“I did have my modest successes on and off Broadway.”

“Isn’t there a Cape Cod repertory theater?” I enjoyed the symphony, but I’d never been to a Broadway musical. Going to plays in the summer alongside all the zillions of Cape tourists didn’t appeal to me.

“Indeed there is, the Cape Playhouse,” he said. “In fact, I appeared in several performances there over the summer. Cape Cod Theatre Company is good too.”

“What are you going as for Halloween?”

He pointed at the skeleton on the trike. “A much larger version of that.”

A rosy-cheeked group of women in biking togs pushed through the door.

“I’ll let you get back to work,” he said.

“We’ll give your three-wheeler a quick going-over, and I’ll call or text you when it’s ready.”

“Perfect. If you should change your mind about a costume, there’s a fabulous shop down the street. I happen to be friends with the owner, and she’s a professional.”

“Got it. Thank you for your business, Enzo.”

He slipped past the women and headed out.

So, he was friends with Shelly and was going to be a skeleton on Halloween. He must have been who Cokey had seen in the window. It was interesting that Reba knew Enzo, but I didn’t find it surprising. She was one of those people who had never met a stranger.

I headed over to put a Sold tag on the green tricycle. “Let me know how I can help you all,” I said to the women, who were browsing the retail shelves holding shirts, shorts, and socks.

By four thirty the shop was empty. Edwin Germain, my weekend mechanic, had gone home. We didn’t have any rentals due in today that hadn’t already been returned. I brought in the Open flag from outdoors and flipped the sign to read Closed.

Tim had driven north to Logan Airport in Boston to pick up his sister Jamie and her two youngest children, who were traveling here from Seattle for a visit. Her plane should be landing about now. Tim wouldn’t arrive with them for a few more hours, depending on traffic.

At least this time Jamie hadn’t canceled her trip at the last minute. She and the kids, including the two older ones, had bailed on our wedding last December, and the change had crushed Tim. She was his only sibling and he adored the children.

The older ones lived with their father. Jamie had given birth in August to a little boy, Luca. Her younger daughter Daniella, whom everyone called Ella, was now three and a half. She had yet a different father from Luca and from Jamie’s first two.

Jamie suffered from addiction and episodes of mental instability. It broke Tim’s heart to live so far from her, although he had dropped everything to fly West and take care of the kids more than once during his sister’s crises.

We’d borrowed a portacrib for the baby from one of Pa’s parishioners, and I’d pretty well childproofed the house in case Ella was a rambunctious little girl, but I wanted to do a last sweep through to elevate breakables.

The impending visit, which meant so much to Tim, was making me anxious. I tried to practice slow breathing to tamp down my nerves. I’d always been borderline obsessed with things being tidy and organized, and I knew young kids in the house were about to wreak havoc with all that. Still, they would only be here for a week. Ella was bound to love Halloween, and Jamie would take them home next weekend.

I could do this.

Sure enough, semichaos ensued in the house. By nine the next morning, two of the West Coast crew were out of bed. Tim was mixing up batter for blueberry pancakes. Ella, wearing an adult-sized apron over her rockets-and-stars pjs, stood on the step stool next to him. One end of the counter was covered with baby bottles and a can of formula. The infant car seat sat on the floor in the corner, and Jamie had left a cloth bag of snacks on the table.

She had gotten up an hour earlier, fed Luca a bottle, and handed him off to Uncle Tim before going back to bed. Last night they arrived home after eight. After we’d all had a bite to eat, getting them settled and the kids to sleep had taken so long I didn’t have much of a chance to get to know my sister-in-law. I hoped I would today.

After Tim had finished burping the little guy, he sang him to sleep and asked me if I could handle him. I took another sip of my coffee and sat with the baby at the table.

I gazed down at Luca’s tiny round cheeks as he slept. His pale hair was a silky tuft on top of his head, his mouth a wee rosebud, his nose a little button. He had all his body parts intact and had made it out of the womb without issue. Importantly, there hadn’t been any drugs in his blood. Tim, knowing Jamie, had worried about that.

Luca’s life was at the beginning. He hadn’t been hurt or lied to. He had people who fed him and loved him and kept his world safe. May it stay that way for a long, long time.

“Auntie Mac, look at me.” Ella brandished her wooden spoon. “I’m cooking.”

“That’s great, sweetie.” I smiled at her as Tim wiped up the batter the. . .