Murder at the Movies

Book 0: Turner Classic Movies

by Alicia Malone

Genres: Amateur Sleuth

Synopsis

A Hitchcock movie screening turns fatal when Audrey Sullivan—recent transplant to New England—discovers a dead body on opening night of the movie palace she's just inherited in this thrilling first entry in a cozy mystery series by Turner Classic Movies host Alicia Malone.

​When Audrey Sullivan moves to Pine Island to take over her family’s theater, the Starlight Movie Palace, following the death of her grandmother, not everyone is thrilled with her arrival. A mysterious note is left at her doorstep telling her to return to L.A. While she’s a little spooked, Audrey is all the more determined to make opening night a success. But when the movie ends and the lights go on, there’s more than popcorn to clean up. . .Liam Ross, a wealthy and ruthless real estate developer, is found dead in the theater. The local police insist on shutting down the Starlight until they complete their investigation. With the theater’s future on the line, Audrey takes it upon herself to solve Liam’s murder. But in a town where everyone is a suspect, where does she begin?

Release date: October 6, 2026

Publisher: Running Press

Print pages: 320

Reader says this book is...: entertaining story (1) female sleuth (1) realistic characters (1)

Sample

A bloodcurdling scream pierced the quiet night, as high-pitched as a train whistle. Audrey Sullivan and Mia Marallo jumped at the sound, practically leaped off the couch they were sharing, and burst into laughter.

“I told you he was the murderer,” Audrey said.

“Ugh. This is why I love and hate watching movies with you,” Mia said. “How did you know?”

“It’s Arthur Kennedy,” Audrey replied. Seeing the blank look on Mia’s face, Audrey adjusted her glasses and continued. “Arthur Kennedy is the second-billed star in Murder She Said, after Margaret Rutherford. She plays the lead, so his character had to be the next most important—the murderer. I didn’t believe for a minute he was just the friendly family doctor. He looked so creepy, always skulking in the background…”

Mia chuckled, shook her head, and went back to watching the movie. Audrey stole a glance at her new friend, who was, so far, her only friend on Pine Island. It had been just over a month since Audrey had uprooted her life in Los Angeles to move to this quiet island in Maine. Her grandmother’s death had prompted the move, but the truth was, Audrey had badly needed a fresh start.

Grief pierced her heart whenever she thought of her grandmother. Grandma Doris had been a comforting presence throughout her chaotic childhood. Audrey remembered her trips to Pine Island being filled with warm cups of tea and classic movies. If Doris Sullivan were a character in a film, she would be played by Dame May Whitty. She had that same owl-like gaze that could see deep into your soul. On the surface, she seemed tough, but when she laughed, her eyes would crinkle and soften. Her boundless energy made her seem younger than eighty-three, so her recent death had come as a shock.

Doris’s will was its own kind of shock. She had left everything to Audrey: her cottage, her worldly possessions, and the responsibility for running the Starlight Movie Palace, the historic movie theater founded by the Sullivans. Audrey’s mother, Barbara, had never married and was an only child, and she had not taken this news well. Audrey’s thoughts drifted to her dramatic mother and she instinctively touched her necklace for reassurance. It was a small clapper board, a gift from Grandma Doris for her thirtieth birthday.

“What are you thinking about?” Mia asked, interrupting her thoughts.

Audrey looked at the TV and saw that Miss Marple had triumphed and Murder She Said had ended. “Did you know that Margaret Rutherford didn’t become famous until she was nearly seventy?” she said.

“Liar,” Mia said, gently throwing a pillow at her. Audrey ducked, and it hit the floor. “I mean, that’s probably true about Margaret Rutherford, but what were you really thinking about?”

Audrey let out a sigh. “My mom. She wants nothing to do with Pine Island or the movie theater, but she can’t stand that Doris left it all to me.” She leaned down to pick up the velvet pillow from the floor and smoothed her hand over it. “Mom keeps telling me the Starlight is doomed to close and I gave up my promising career for nothing.”

“But surely you don’t believe that,” Mia said.

“Definitely not,” Audrey said. “The finances aren’t great, but the Starlight is beloved in this town. I can turn it around.” She pulled the pillow close to her chest. “It just has to work. There’s no choice. I’ve invested all my own money in this theater, and I can’t go back to LA.”

“Are you ever going to tell me what happened in LA?” Mia asked.

Audrey winced, recalling the bridges she had burned. Scorched, more like. “I will…. Just not now.”

Mia offered her an easy smile. “Okay, well, there are many reasons you’re the perfect choice to run the theater. Number one: You’ve loved movies your entire life. Doris made sure of that.”

“She was secretly hoping my first words would be ‘Billy Wilder.’”

“Two: You’ve worked in the film industry for years.”

“As a publicist, but yes…”

“And three: You’re a Sullivan. Running this theater is your birthright.”

She had a point. Audrey’s great-grandfather, William Sullivan, established the Starlight Movie Palace on Main Street in 1923. Ever since then, a member of her family has managed it. Most recently, that was Doris. Now it was up to Audrey.

She stood up from the couch, her body sore from sitting. As she stretched, a loud yawn escaped from her mouth, startling Mia’s dog, who had been sleeping peacefully by the crackling fireplace.

“Sorry, Marlowe,” she said, approaching the golden retriever. He looked up at Audrey, his tail thumping softly on the ground. She got down on her knees to pat him, and he placed his large head in her lap. Marlowe was the reason Audrey had met Mia. During her first week on Pine Island, she had noticed a dog sleeping in the window of the antiques store next door to the Starlight Movie Palace. She had never met a dog she didn’t want to pat, so she entered the store. Every inch of the space inside was filled with objects—antique oak furniture, colorful Turkish rugs, and vintage oil paintings of seascapes.

Behind the counter, a woman sat quietly on a stool, reading a book, next to a flickering candle that smelled of apple. Audrey observed her. She was in her late thirties, maybe, with long, dark hair, a camel-colored sweater soft enough to be cashmere, and a hunter-green silk scarf tied neatly around her neck. Like an Italian Cyd Charisse, Audrey thought, quietly imagining who would play her in a movie.

She asked the woman if she could pet her dog, and Mia’s face lit up with a warm smile. “Of course,” she said. “That’s Marlowe, and I’m Mia.”

“I’m Audrey,” she said. “But hang on, Marlowe? After Philip Marlowe?”

“That’s right. Not many people get that.”

Audrey’s mind flicked through all the movies she’d seen featuring the hard-boiled detective. “Okay then, who’s your favorite Marlowe? Bogart, Mitchum, or Powell?”

Mia gave her a questioning look.

“Or Montgomery?” Audrey continued. “Gould? Neeson? Wait, don’t tell me it’s James Garner. A solid actor, but I don’t think he’s anyone’s favorite Marlowe.”

Mia started to laugh. “No,” she said, holding up her book, The Simple Art of Murder. “It’s nothing to do with the movies. I love Raymond Chandler’s books. That’s why I named my store The Long Goodbye.”

From that moment, Audrey and Mia were fast friends. Mia had grown up on Pine Island but had spent the last fifteen years working in investment banking in New York City, and they bonded over a shared craving for calm after years of city chaos. Beyond that, they were pretty different. Mia was tidy, while Audrey left a trail of mess. Mia was gentle, Audrey… not so much. Elegance wasn’t Audrey’s strong suit, either. Her towering frame made her awkward, while Mia was graceful. Audrey couldn’t cook, but Mia could, so she often showed up at Grandma Doris’s house with dinner in hand, sparing Audrey another sad night of toast, all under the pretense of wanting Audrey to show her a classic movie. Audrey knew it was a ruse, but she appreciated the gesture.

Getting up from the floor of the living room, Audrey warmed her backside in front of the fire as she took a look around the small cottage. She still found it hard to think of this as her house, and she had kept everything just as her grandma had left it. The well-worn pink-striped sofa had an indentation on the left side, with Mia now sitting in Doris’s favorite spot. The pastel-blue floral wallpaper had faded over the years, as had the pink velvet curtains, and the buttercream-yellow wainscoting could use a fresh coat of paint. But to Audrey, it was perfect. It was Grandma Doris.

The only new addition she had made was a pile of cardboard boxes stacked precariously in the corner, unopened.

Mia followed her eyes. “Do you want help unpacking those?”

“Nah,” Audrey said, “I got it.”

“So you keep saying,” Mia said, “but I’ve yet to see any progress.”

Audrey’s back was getting toasty, so she turned to face the fire, speaking to Mia over her shoulder.

“There is progress at the Starlight, though. I’ve been busy there. Are you sure you can’t make it tomorrow night? Suspicion is a fantastic Hitchcock thriller. Cary Grant is creepy in it. And it is the grand reopening of the theater.”

“Sorry. You know I’d love to, but I’ve got a big shipment of antiques coming in from the UK, and by the time I’m done unloading everything, the movie will almost be over.”

“Okay, I’ll let you off the hook this time. I just hope at least one person shows up, and it’s not only me and my two-person staff.”

“You know what I’ve told you, people will show up for you when—”

“You show up for them,” Audrey finished. “I know, I know, I need to meet more people. I’ll get to it. My social battery is still a little burned out from LA, and I… want to lie low for a while.”

“I don’t think there’s much chance of that, Audrey. Everyone is curious about you. Because you’re from away.”

“‘From away’ is such a strange term. Why am I from away, and you’re not from away?”

“I was born here.”

“Hmmm,” Audrey said. “I don’t get it. But I can tell they’re curious. People keep driving down this dead-end street, slowing to a crawl and staring at me through the windshield as I rake leaves like it’s some kind of scandal.”

“That’s nothing. Just wait until they start to visit you unexpectedly. They won’t even bother to knock; they’ll walk straight in.”

“Into the house?” Audrey said, turning around to Mia, her eyes wide with alarm.

Mia let out a soft laugh. “I promise, the locals are friendly. They don’t bite. Or at least, they won’t once they realize you have good intentions. It’s not like New York or LA. There’s no anonymity. Everyone knows everyone’s business. And before you screw up your face in disgust, I will say it’s nice. People look out for each other. We have to, to survive on this remote island.”

Audrey watched Mia rise from the couch and signal to Marlowe that it was time to leave.

“Don’t forget,” Mia said, “you literally can’t escape people on an island. Besides, everyone will make up their own stories about you until they actually get to know you.”

Audrey walked Mia and Marlowe to the front door, keeping her eye out for her grandmother’s cat, who was probably hiding from the dog. “You mean the true story about the tall, alluring blonde who swooped in to save the beloved Starlight, and therefore the island itself?”

Mia opened the front door, and Marlowe strolled out onto the porch. Then, suddenly, he stopped in his tracks, sharply turning his head to the left, toward the woods next to the house. His body went entirely still, as if he were intently looking at something. Audrey followed his gaze, but it was too dark to see beyond the line of trees where the forest began.

“You should come with me to the Halloween party,” Mia said. “It’s always a good time, everyone goes.”

Mia looked at her feet, bent to pick up a piece of paper from the doormat, and handed it to Audrey.

“Just think about it, okay? Come on, Marlowe, let’s go. Night, Audrey.”

The dog broke out of his spell and walked with Mia to her car.

“Bye,” Audrey called, staring at the note in her hand. Her name was on the front, but there was no envelope, no address—someone had hand-delivered it while Audrey and Mia were inside watching the movie. She unfolded the paper slowly. It was a crisp sheet of white stationery, bordered with delicate green pine trees. A cold shiver ran down her spine as her eyes fell on the words, scrawled in blue ink and capital letters: DON’T GO THROUGH WITH IT.

Her pulse quickened. Whoever had left this note was trying to tell her something urgent. Don’t go through with what? Her mind was racing. She peered into the dark forest, where Marlowe had been staring, unease prickling her skin. It was completely black. She turned to her right, toward the ocean. The moon cast a glow on the waves as they crashed onto the rocks. Closing her eyes, she tried to calm herself, taking a deep breath and feeling her heart slow as she focused on the fresh scent of the island air. It smelled of wood smoke, with a hint of salt.

A crunch of leaves in the forest made Audrey’s eyes snap open. Her head whipped around toward the sound, and she strained to listen for more. She couldn’t see anything, but her imagination conjured up a stranger, a man, watching her from behind the trees. Snap out of it, she told herself. This is not a horror movie.

A flash of black streaked past her feet, and something brushed against her leg, making her jump. She looked down and sighed in relief to see it was just Dexter. Audrey scooped up the little black cat and took him inside. She had been told that nobody locks their doors on Pine Island, but she made sure her front door was dead bolted, just in case.

“C. K. Dexter Haven,” she said, gently scolding the purring furball that was cradled in her arms. “We’ve talked about the ‘cat scare’ and how overused it is in movies. Don’t be such a Hollywood cliché.” Dexter gave a soft meow in response, and she held him close as she walked back to the living room. Dexter was her grandmother’s theater cat. He was supposed to stay at the Starlight and hunt mice, but Audrey liked having him with her.

She sat back on the couch and put Dexter on her lap, flinching as he began to knead her legs with his claws. This was the room where Doris was found after her heart failed. Audrey knew it should make her uneasy to be in here, but it was somehow comforting, as if a part of Grandma Doris had stayed behind when she died.

Carefully unfolding the note without disturbing the cat, Audrey read the words again. DON’T GO THROUGH WITH IT. With what? Starting a new life on this island? Staying in this house? Or opening up the Starlight again? But really, who wouldn’t want a movie theater to reopen?

The note left her on edge, but she had no choice; she was here, on Pine Island, and couldn’t go back to LA. The Starlight had to reopen. It had been dark for two months, and if it didn’t start turning a profit, it would be in real trouble. The plans were in place, the staff was ready, and the screening was advertised. With so little to go on, Audrey had no choice but to ignore the note and push forward. She just hoped she wasn’t making a huge mistake.

After a restless night’s sleep, Audrey felt like she was at death’s door. The curious words on the note kept playing in her head, and she’d spent most of the night listening for strange noises. There were plenty—the floors in this old house creaked as the temperature dropped, the oil heater clanged on and off, and an animal screeched in the woods. It’s surprising how much an owl can sound like a woman screaming in the dead of night. Audrey had thought Pine Island would be quieter than Los Angeles, but as she now realized, the quiet here is very loud.

At least she no longer woke in a panic, dreading the day ahead as a film publicist for Shields Pictures. Two phones tethered to her at all times, ready to answer texts, calls, and emails, no matter the hour. One phone was supposed to be personal, but that boundary had vanished once the studio, directors, producers, stars, and their “people” had gotten hold of that number.

Audrey still loved movies. There was nothing like the hush of a theater, that moment when the lights dimmed, and she was swept into another world for two solid hours. It was only the business side she came to despise: the soul-crushing realization that everything boiled down to money, and the extremes some people would go to in order to get it.

Dexter jumped onto the bed, purring as he walked across Audrey’s chest and tried to lick her face with his sandpaper tongue. “All right, Dexter,” she told the impatient cat, “I’m getting up.” She reluctantly pulled herself out from under her grandmother’s warm homemade quilt and groped for her glasses on the nightstand.

Exhausted, Audrey stumbled down the stairs, feeling almost drunk with fatigue. Dexter didn’t make it easy for her, maneuvering between her legs to herd her into the kitchen. She grabbed his clean bowl from the drying rack next to the sink and filled it with food. He meowed loudly and lifted his front paws off the ground as she set his bowl down.

It wasn’t until she opened the fridge door that she remembered she’d forgotten to buy milk yesterday. She let out a loud groan. There was no way she could get through this day without coffee, but she’d be damned if she would drink it black. Audrey considered her options, then closed the fridge door with a sense of conviction. Today, she would have breakfast at the diner.

A few minutes later, Audrey was back upstairs, running a brush through her hair—much easier since she’d cut it into a bob—and applying a minimal amount of makeup. She pulled out one of her grandmother’s chunky knitted sweaters from the closet, breathing in the lingering scent of Doris’s vanilla perfume. It was a fall-inspired s. . .