Murder at the Campfire Cookout

Book 7: Beacon Bakeshop Mystery

by Darci Hannah

Genres: Amateur Sleuth; Mystery; Culinary Cozy Mysteries

Synopsis

When Lindsey Bakewell leaves behind her lighthouse bakeshop, her boyfriend, Rory, and her Newfoundland dog, Wellington, for a glamping trip with her mother in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula, the bears leave them alone—but a killer doesn’t. . .

Converting the old Beacon Point lighthouse into a bakery is as adventurous as Lindsey cares to get. Her mother, Ellie, a former 80s fashion model, likes her creature comforts even more—until she sees a business opportunity for her Beacon Harbor fashion boutique when she’s invited by the Mitten Kittens Glamping Club on a woodsy getaway.

Far from roughing it, the ladies will be warm and cozy in chic vintage campers. Ellie insists Lindsey come along to win the campfire cookout contest. Campfire cooking has come a long way from bacon and beans. Soon Lindsey is making pizza, berry cobbler, and gooey Carmelita camping bars.

But the festive spirit is soon dampened when a body is found in Ellie’s camper. It seems like an accidental death until everyone’s tires are slashed and it’s clear the glampsite has become a crime scene. With no cell service to call for help, it’s up to Lindsey to smoke out the killer around the campfire . . .

Because no one is out of the woods yet.

Release date: June 30, 2026

Publisher: Kensington Books

Print pages: 352

Sample

“Are you aware that this is a milestone day, Welly?” Wellington, or Welly as everyone called him, was my giant, fluffy Newfoundland dog. With the exception of the bakeshop kitchen, which was off-limits due to shedding and copious amounts of drool, Welly accompanied me nearly everywhere, including on important visits on milestone days. We had been walking down Main Street, passing quaint local shops and a myriad of friends (everybody in Beacon Harbor knew Welly!), when the sound of my voice made him stop, turn his big, fluffy body around, and sit, facing me. His mouth opened just enough to allow the tip of his gooey tongue to flop over his bottom teeth. His soulful brown eyes were now bright with understanding as they held to mine. There are some who say dogs can’t smile. But they would be wrong. Dogs do smile, and Welly, with his big bushy tail swishing with happiness, was giving me his brightest, most beautiful puppy-dog grin. Even he knew that today was a special day.

“Good boy,” I told him, and gave him a pat on the head. “There are times, Welly, when I think you actually read my mind.” I flashed him a smile to match his own before continuing down the sidewalk. After three steps, I was jerked to a sudden stop. That’s when I realized Welly was still sitting on the sidewalk, holding his ground like a firmly rooted tree stump. His eyes shifted to the heavy bakery bag in my other hand, the one not holding his leash. It contained two dozen of my most delicious specialty donuts, freshly made right before we left the bakeshop. The heavenly scent of fried dough triggered a string of drool, slightly marring the purity of that bright, puppy-dog smile. It dawned on me that I might have misunderstood the look on my dog’s face. Also, I might have taken a leap when I thought he could read my mind. It wasn’t understanding that animated his brown eyes. It was anticipation. Welly expected a donut.

“You want a donut?” Stupid question. Why had I even asked that? Of course he wanted a donut. Welly always wanted a donut … or a Beacon Bite, which was one of our specialty dog treats.

A firm thump of his tail while his giant front paws kneaded the sidewalk with ill-concealed anticipation confirmed it. Welly was demanding a treat.

“These are for Mom and Kennedy,” I explained, as if he understood. “Today is a big day for them. A milestone day. However, I promise to slip you a nibble once we get there.” I wiggled the bakery bag in front of his nose to get him walking again. His nose filled with the sweet scent of donuts, and fortified with the promise of a nibble (he certainly understood the word nibble!), Welly pranced once again down the sidewalk, drooling a little as he went.

It was another blue-sky, breathtaking, late-summer morning in Beacon Harbor, the kind of morning that invigorated the body and heightened the senses. Labor Day weekend had come and gone. The summer tourists and vacationers had all left, reluctantly returning to their homes and their jobs downstate. School had also started, dragging the youngsters off the beach and back into the classroom. Summer had been busy, but now was the perfect time for Mom and Kennedy to make their big move. As I told Welly, it was a milestone day, a day worth celebrating.

My mother, Ellie Montague Bakewell, a former eighties supermodel and fashion icon, had opened a specialty clothing boutique called Ellie & Co. when she and Dad moved to Beacon Harbor to be closer to me. Mom’s passion was creating fashionable, loose-fitting clothing that catered to women of a certain age and their fluffy companions. My best friend, Kennedy Kapoor, a savvy marketer, fashionista, and Instagram influencer, was her business partner. Their little dog-friendly boutique had become such a huge success, both in the village and online, that they were swiftly outgrowing their modest retail space.

Betty Vanhoosen, the local Realtor and Mom’s dearest friend in the village, had alerted Mom the moment Buck’s Hardware Store was about to go on the market. The old building had been a hardware store for over one hundred years, and old Buck, the most recent owner, had had enough of it. He just couldn’t compete with the big-box stores any longer. However, the old building was an icon in the village. It had always been a large retail space, and Betty, being Betty, instantly saw a new use for it. Before listing it, she made a call to Mom, persuading her that now would be the perfect time to snatch the deal of the century and expand Ellie & Co.

Of course, Mom was filled with cautious excitement at the thought. She had liked the idea, and the more she thought about it, and the more Betty convinced her to make the move, the more Mom became emotionally invested. Betty Vanhoosen was great at her job!

Mom, knowing it was a big decision, had called an emergency meeting at her house, including Dad, Kennedy, Tuck McAllister (Kennedy’s on-again-off-again boyfriend), Rory Campbell (my hunky boyfriend), and me. The fact that Mom had made mojitos and steak tacos indicated that she was serious. I mean, who could say no to mojitos and steak tacos while watching a gorgeous Lake Michigan sunset from the deck? Certainly not me. Also, knowing I’d been a Wall Street investment banker in my former career, and that I’d purchased an old lighthouse in Beacon Harbor to start a bakery on a whim, Mom understood what kind of ally I’d be. The best kind. After all, I knew a little something about risk mitigation and betting it all on a dream.

As Mom and Kennedy discussed the pros and cons of expanding their growing business, it became apparent that there were far more pros than cons. There was little reason not to purchase the old hardware store and expand Ellie & Co., and so Mom and Kennedy had called Betty with the news.

Today the old Buck’s Hardware Store was about to become the new home of Ellie & Co., and I couldn’t have been happier. Mom and Ken deserved this, and that was the best reason to celebrate.

“Lindsey! Welly! Welcome to the new home of Ellie and Company!” Mom greeted us the moment we came through the door. Kennedy, standing behind the original sales counter next to Mom, shot me a deer-in-the-headlights look accompanied by a half-hearted princess wave. She appeared to be having a mild case of buyer’s remorse.

Before I had time to process this, Brinkley and Ireland, Mom’s little West Highland white terriers, collectively known as “the models” because they were named after Mom’s rivals, had rushed over to greet us. I bent down to pet each dog, then freed Welly from his leash to play with his friends. The dogs immediately went to explore the vast, open space.

“Mom, Ken, this place is amazing,” I said, taking a moment to soak up the surroundings. It was a beautiful, old building, the lovingly maintained, historic kind that only exists in small towns. I was so proud of Mom and Kennedy for investing in themselves and their dream. I knew they had plans to slightly modify the building, bringing it up to code while adding smart, modern touches. Anders Jorgenson, our friend and local carpenter, had been hired for the build-out, and he was already fast at work, measuring one of the large, original front windows. I waved at Dad, who was standing next to Anders, pretending to help. My dad, James Bakewell, had made his fortune on Wall Street. He wasn’t exactly known for being handy, but he did have a knack for finding the best man for the job. I walked over to where Mom and Kennedy stood, and said, “This place is even more beautiful now that the old hardware stuff has been cleared out.”

“It really is,” Mom agreed. She stepped out from behind the beautiful, historic oak sales counter and gave me a hug. “With a little polishing up, it’s going to look wonderful.”

Noticing that Kennedy was still standing behind the counter looking mildly paralyzed with fear, I asked, “Ken, are you all right?” She looked up and offered a watery smile. I was about to say something encouraging to her when Betty burst through the door, bringing a gust of wind and excitement with her.

“Good morning, everyone! What a delightful day. Doesn’t it feel like a dream to be standing in the new home of Beacon Harbor’s most trendy clothing boutique?” Betty’s smile was contagious. “Like every good Realtor, the moment Buck called me, I already had a buyer in mind. Ooh, ladies … and gentlemen,” she added, noticing Dad and Anders by the window, “this is such an exciting day!”

Betty was one of those vibrant spirits who seemed to always be in a good mood. She was known for her bright smile, her lively conversation, and her love of gossip. She knew nearly everyone in the village, and she adored swaddling herself in cotton-candy colors, like the soft pink tunic-style shirt she was wearing over wide-leg, mint-green pants. Thanks to Betty, it was a look now carried by Ellie & Co. The nostalgic colors weren’t exactly Mom’s cup of tea, but one thing was clear. Mom was devoted to her friends. For me, the mere sight of the Realtor with her cheerful, round face that was perfectly framed by a smartly cut, platinum bob, and her passion for pastels, invoked childhood memories of county fairs and licking sticky spun sugar off a paper cone. I stared into her round blue eyes and smiled.

“Thank goodness you were on the ball, Betty. This old building, with its exposed red-brick walls and gorgeous oak floors will make the perfect backdrop for Mom and Ken’s boutique. I still can’t believe this building is really theirs.”

“Well, dear, you started the trend by purchasing that old lighthouse,” Mom said. “You worked hard and created a thriving business. Kennedy and I are just trying to keep up.” She nudged Kennedy with her hip. Kennedy, however, looked more frightened than overjoyed.

“So much space,” Kennedy uttered. She then pointed to the curved oak staircase near the entrance. “Second floor. Up there. Waiting to be filled.”

This was a new look for Kennedy, and I wasn’t onboard with it. I’d tolerate it for a bit, because I understood the feeling. But sooner or later she was just going to have to snap out of it and be her overconfident diva self. Offering her a smile, I told her, “Don’t be silly, Ken. I’ve seen your closets. You have no problem filling space with beautiful clothing.” Then, to further pull her out of her stupor, I hoisted the bakery bag and gave it a wiggle. “Look, I know it feels overwhelming right now, but I brought donuts. Donuts make everything better—even a really large purchase, like an old hardware store.”

“It’s the sugar high,” Anders teased, writing something down in his notebook. “Makes you feel like you’re on top of the world. However, that first mortgage payment sobers you right up again. Good thing we have a top-notch sugar pusher in this town.” He flashed me a grin, then closed his notebook before accompanying Dad to the refreshment table. I didn’t have the heart to tell him that the building had been purchased outright.

As I proceeded to place the two bakery boxes next to the coffeemaker, all three dogs came over to investigate. Their noses were working double-time as they sniffed the tantalizing treats. Welly was the only pup who was able to ogle the donuts on the table, having rested his head on it. Reminding him of his manners, I gently pushed his head away.

Mom wasted no time opening the boxes. “These look decadent!”

“Like I said, top-notch sugar pusher.” Anders plucked a Hog Heaven donut from the box and grinned. “Bacon, on maple frosting, on top of a donut. This will wash your worries away, Kennedy.”

“Are these caramel apple, dear?” Mom asked, selecting a caramel-frosted, apple-cider donut with crushed peanuts on top. I nodded.

“These with the cream cheese frosting are carrot cake,” I explained, pointing with my finger. People always wanted to know what they were eating. “These lovely cherry-frosted ones are Traverse City Cherry Delights. Here we have chocolate-frosted mocha donuts, crumb-cake donuts, Boston cream, and Heavenly Delights, which are filled with both lemon curd and light vanilla cream, then rolled in powdered sugar. They literally taste like heaven. See? Unabashed sugar pusher.” I tossed a sideways grin before pointing to the French crullers. “I thought the dogs could share one of these.”

The dogs heartily agreed. I picked up a cruller and made good on my earlier promise to Welly.

After eating donuts and discussing plans for the new building, Dad and Anders went back to work. That’s when Betty cast Mom a nudging look, inspiring Mom to declare, “Oh! I nearly forgot. I have some exciting news for you ladies.”

I glanced at Kennedy, noting that my friend looked like she couldn’t handle any more good news—even with the powdery remains of a Heavenly Delight donut gracing her upper lip. She was either becoming immune to the frequent sugar rushes I pushed, or her trepidation went a bit deeper than Mom’s. I rubbed her arm while offering an encouraging look of support. You got this, I mouthed. Mom continued.

“Remember how I told you girls that I wanted to design a line of clothing that catered to women campers and their adventure-loving dogs?”

“Ahh, no.” I shook my head and dropped my crumpled napkin into the wastebasket. “Never heard a peep about that.” Wow, maybe Mom’s big new purchase had nudged her closer to the edge than I thought. I said this because my mother, having been the center of attention from her late teens through her late thirties, due to her remarkable beauty, didn’t always have the most realistic view of the world. The world she lived in was magical, one where a smile got you a table at the trendiest New York City restaurants without a reservation, and where the world’s top clothing designers begged you to wear their latest fashions. Magical as it was, I doubted Mom even knew what camping was, let alone what people wore while doing it. I turned to Kennedy for support. Again, deer-in-the-headlights was about all she could offer.

“Oh?” Mom tilted her pretty head as she looked at me. “Maybe it slipped my mind, due to all the excitement of our big move. But here’s the thing. We have a lot more space to fill now, and after talking with Betty and some of her friends, I think there’s a real need for a fashionable line of warm, comfy, moveable clothing that will not only look great while doing camping things but are also practical for this new, fashion-forward type of camping called glamping.”

I couldn’t help it. I giggled. “Practical? Camping? Glamping?” I shifted my gaze to Mom’s little Westies. Each pup was wearing a little shirt, one in pink and the other in lavender, and both had the words Lake Life embroidered on them. “I really don’t think any of those things is your brand, Mom.”

Ken crossed her arms and nodded in agreement. “Ellie, have you ever been camping? Because I sure haven’t.” Ken tilted her head, causing her long, silky black hair to cascade over one shoulder. “Do you know what it even is? I admit that I really don’t, but I do know that there’s a lot of dirt involved with camping. Dirty dirt. And bugs. Lots of bugs. Big ones that sting and bite. Bathrooms? Don’t think there are any. Also, one definitely cannot wear heels to a campsite, and you know how much I love to wear a good heel.” Thankfully, Kennedy’s deer-in-the-headlights look had shifted to one of mild disgust.

“Well, I’m sure you are correct about the dirt, dear, and the bugs, and maybe even the bathrooms. But I’m not talking about camping.” Mom gave us a look that suggested we were being silly. “I’m talking about glamping! It’s entirely different from camping. Glamping is fashionable camping, or so Betty tells me.” Betty, apparently an expert on this glamping thing, crossed her arms and nodded, affirming Mom’s suspect description of glamping. Seeing that Kennedy and I weren’t convinced, Mom doubled down. “Look, ladies, this is a new building for us, and it opens the door to more opportunities. We all know that a good number of our customers like to camp. Heaven knows why, but people love camping in this state. But what about glamorous camping, or glamping? That’s something I think that we can get behind. Don’t glampers deserve to look stylish while glamping? They might not even realize it, but I bet they’ve been yearning to elevate the glamping aesthetic. Think about it,” Mom said, waving her arm in the air. “The Glampsite Collection at Ellie & Co. It has a nice ring to it, don’t you agree?”

It did have a nice ring to it. But there was only one problem. Mom was an indoor kind of lady. She liked her creature comforts and her designer clothing. Then there was Kennedy, a self-pampered princess and fashion influencer. I loved her to bits and pieces, but Ken was a high-maintenance kind of girl who abhorred any footwear that didn’t have at least a two-inch heel. I honestly couldn’t picture either of these two camping … or glamping, or whatever kind of camping Mom was talking about. I could tell that Kennedy was not only intrigued by the possibility of cornering the market on fashionable camp clothing, but she was also slightly disturbed by it as well. Then Mom dropped her bomb, sealing her ticket to Crazy Town.

“Well, we might not know anything about glamping yet, but thanks to Betty and a few of our enthusiastic glamping customers who have become regulars at the boutique, we’ve been invited to join the Happy Glampers Glamping Club for a weekend of glamorous camping in the beautiful woodlands of Michigan. Doesn’t that sound like a dream? Just us girls in a glamper doing glamorous camping things. Also, Lindsey, there’s going to be a campfire cookout competition. I’ve taken the liberty of signing you up as the cook for our glamping team. That means we’re going to win! Oh, and I’ve already talked with Colleen. She’s onboard too.” The Colleen Mom was referring to was Rory’s Irish cousin who now lived in Beacon Harbor. Poor Colleen. Doubtful she knew what she was getting into. Mom, however, looked enchanted with this glamping idea. “I can’t wait. Start packing your best glamping attire, ladies. We leave Friday morning. Oh, and I’m so sorry, Lindsey, but for this trip I was told that the puppies need to stay home. It’s a matter of dog hair in the glampers we’ll be staying in, as well as protecting the wildlife, and keeping the noise to a minimum.” For some reason she didn’t mention drool, which was a given wherever Welly went. “It’s just for a few days.”

I nodded in agreement, then looked at Welly, who was sprawled on the floor near the refreshment table taking a little nap. As if feeling my eyes on him, he raised his head and opened an eye to look at me. He then offered a tongue-dangling grin before plopping his giant head back on the floor once again. Obviously, Welly had no idea what just happened. I’d just been roped into a glamping trip where I was expected to cook over a fire, while my faithful companion would be staying at home. I looked at him and thought, You lucky dog!

“Glamping! Can you believe it?” I was on my iPhone, complaining to Rory as Welly and I walked back to the Beacon Bakeshop. Rory Campbell was an ex–Navy SEAL who now ran his own business, the Aquatic Adventure Center, out of an old warehouse at the foot of the town pier. He rented boats, offered chartered fishing trips, taught scuba diving, and chartered wreck diving excursions. Due to his unique skill set when it came to diving, he was also the head of a regional water-based emergency technical response team, when the authorities needed him. Rory was a very busy man, and I was proud of him. He was also an experienced woodsman who loved the outdoors. In short, he knew just about everything there was to know about camping. But glamping …?

“Babe, I’ve been camping all my life. I’m not familiar with that word.”

“Me either. It sounds like an oxymoron, doesn’t it? Because glamorous is not a word I’d ever associate with camping. Remember, I’ve seen how dirty your clothes get when you come back from your trips, not to mention the smell. Urgh, not glamorous at all. You know what? I’m not even certain glamping is a real thing. I think Betty’s just calling it that to entice Mom to go with her into the wilderness. And us.”

There was a pause at his end, after which he informed me, “I just googled it. Good grief! What am I looking at? This poor camper is all pink, with lacy curtains, and a white fur rug. It’s like a Barbie fever dream built for the woods! I’ll tell you one thing, Bakewell, this is not my brand of adventure, but it looks legit.”

“Well, thanks for that—I think. But my point is, what in the name of Paul Bunyan was she thinking? Trotting us girls off on a glamping trip right after she purchases the old hardware store building. I think this rapid expansion of her boutique has thrown her off the deep end. Since when has my mother ever been interested in fashionable clothing for lady campers?”

“I’m no expert, Linds, but it might be a good market to tap into. There are over a hundred state parks in Michigan. People love camping and being outdoors in this state. Personally, I love a good outfitting store. I could spend hours in Cabela’s.” This was very true. Rory wasn’t what one would call a shopper, but if a store had a hunting and fishing section in it, the tables were turned. “I don’t know. Maybe she’s onto something,” Rory suggested. “What does Kennedy think?”

“I’m not sure,” I told him, thinking about my friend. Ken was normally up for any adventure where clothing was concerned. She had an eye for design and loved helping Mom come up with new lines of fashion for their boutique. In fact, during our emergency meeting regarding the new building, she’d been positively excited about expanding Ellie & Co. Yet today she seemed overwhelmed and nervous, which wasn’t at all like her. Also, it was instantly apparent that Mom hadn’t told her about the glamping trip either. I’d have a chat with Ken and get to the bottom of it eventually. After all, we were about to spend a long weekend together in the woods. I was sure there’d be plenty of time for girl talk. I looked at Welly, who was happily trotting beside me, and added, “Did I mention that Colleen is coming too?”

Rory made a choking noise, as if he’d just spat out a sip of coffee. “Lordy, you, Kennedy, and Colleen camping together?” He let out a little chuckle. “That’s going to be something, a little like the blind leading the blind. But you’ll all have fun. Nothing strengthens the bonds of friendship like a camping trip.”

“I hope you’re correct. I think it’ll be fun. However, I’ve learned that dogs aren’t allowed. Something about dog hair in the glampers and keeping the noise to a minimum.”

“No Welly? Babe, I’m sorry. He’d have a blast camping.”

“He would, but this is glamping. Welly’s not exactly a little, po. . .