Since her divorce, librarian Alice Pepper has had to rethink her golden years. Luckily, she’s always fit in with a group of puzzle-obsessed friends in the Oregon town of West Hazel. And when a local lady goes missing, Alice must put her curious mind to work to assemble a picture of the woman’s life—and determine if she’s a runaway wife or a victim of foul play . . .
The owner of a dance and martial arts studio, 63 year-old Michelle Chong is a well-liked fixture in the West Hazel community, despite being married to the famous—and famously temperamental—artist, Lars Olsen. That’s why when she disappears, people don’t blame her for fleeing her dysfunctional marriage. Still, Alice has her suspicions, especially after learning about Lars’ violent past—and current affair.
When Alice receives a custom-made puzzle as a gift, the artwork seems so familiar that she assumes it’s from Lars as an apology for his bad behavior during a recent visit. As she and her friends get to work on it, they’re stymied by a missing piece.
With evidence pointing to Michelle’s disappearance being planned, Alice turns her attention to her own fractured family. But a shocking chain of events, culminating in a brutal murder, makes Alice question if any piece of the past can ever be put to rest . . .
Release date:
July 29, 2025
Publisher:
Kensington Books
Print pages:
304
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Pink-bellied, felt-eared, fuzzy gray mice with pink tutus and snazzy little tails that resembled red licorice whips. They bopped and pranced about the “fairgrounds,” a mixture of grassy lawn and macadam that on most days served as the parking lot for the West Hazel Library.
“And the day was going so well,” Alice Pepper said, peeking out of the book tent to take a gander at the outdoor stage. Mice were swarming the area, climbing onto the apron, dancing on the steps, chasing each other in the grass.
The pixie rodents—kindergartners, perhaps—were ready to take the stage and dance their little hearts out as their part of the annual children’s book festival. The popular event—which included games, face painting, music and dance, a few alpacas for petting and photo ops, and plenty of books—was admittedly Alice’s own brainchild. As head librarian, she knew it was necessary to bring children to the library for fun and expose them to the joy of reading.
So far today the stage had held two marching bands and a Bubble Baby story time with strollers wheeled onstage and encircling Nancy Savino, their animated children’s librarian. A dozen or so teen ballerinas costumed in flowing purple skirts and white blouses had performed a piece called “Willow Dance.” And Alice’s granddaughter, Taylor Denham, had led some sing-alongs with only her guitar and her strong voice. Taylor was also playing emcee, giving new life to some dry old kernels of jokes. “Sir, is that your car running? You’d better go catch it.”
All had gone well, until the mice invasion.
“And this had to happen when Julia stepped away.” Alice’s right-hand manager and strategic genius, Julia Abe, had headed off to take her daughter to a soccer game. Parental duty called. “Be right back,” she’d promised.
But not soon enough.
“Someone needs to wrangle the beginning ballerinas.” Beto, one of the assistant librarians, bit back a laugh. “Though they are cute. Where’s their teacher?”
“It’s Michelle Chong, but I haven’t seen her around this morning.” Come to think of it, Michelle hadn’t been here earlier when her older students performed on pointe.
“And their parents?” Beto asked.
“No doubt taking a well-deserved break.” Alice wasn’t surprised that moms and dads had scattered. Having hosted various kiddie events, she knew that caretakers tended to fade off for a cup of coffee, a chat, or a deep dive into the stacks once they handed over their little darlings. Against library policy, but who could blame them, craving a minute to themselves?
With mice in her sights, Alice left the book tent in the capable hands of her staff and crossed the field of colorful tents and food trucks that gave the area a circus feel. At the moment the stage was occupied by the high school orchestra in the throes of “Weekend in New England,” a fitting piece for an October day, but the rodent invaders were beginning to distract the young musicians, who turned away from their conductor to point and grin.
She wove among the toddlers and parents and high-school–age musicians in their brightly colored band uniforms. Royal blue and white for West Hazel High, and the St. Katherine’s musicians were decked in raspberry with silver-spangled trim. She was forging ahead when she came to a lone mouse, a dark-haired girl with a lipstick-pink nose, who sat on a folding chair sipping a juice box just beyond the mayhem.
Alice bent down to her, not wanting to intimidate the poor thing with her six-foot stature and ghostly pale hair. “Where is your teacher?” she asked.
The girl’s lower lip jutted out in a pout. “I don’t know.”
Alice rephrased. “Who is your teacher?”
“Ms. Chong, but she’s not here.”
Alice scanned the crowd. “It’s not like her to be late, is it?”
The little girl shook her head and went back to her soothing juice box.
Michelle Chong wasn’t just a teacher. She was the proprietor of West Hazel’s martial arts and dance studio. A former dancer and actor in a few martial arts films, Michelle still exuded a star aura mixed with the wisdom of a practical sixtyish woman. She was usually on top of these things. Where the heck was she?
One thing was for sure, Alice was in sore need of a mouser.
Arms folded at her waist, Alice turned to assess the swarming mice. There had to be thirty or more of them, but she could hardly holler to round them up in the vicinity of the stage. That would be rude to the current performers.
Scanning the crowd for help, she spotted Kamaria Richardson, a teacher from the dance studio, hurrying down the street. The young Black woman had launched into a jog that set the wooden beads around her neck bouncing. Moving like the dancer she was, Kamaria loped toward them, graceful as an antelope, despite her three-inch cork heels. Her scarf-hemmed, navy-and-gold-print dress was a wrap, thrown on over a leotard and tights. Studio garb, but Kamaria had the grace to make a casual dress resemble a goddess’s gold-spun threads.
In seconds, Kamaria was at Alice’s side. “Phew! I just got a frantic call from one of the moms. I’m so sorry! I thought Michelle was here with the dancers, but she’s not answering her cell. I lammed out of my tap class and ran right over.”
“And in the nick of time. Your mice need a pied piper, and I haven’t seen Michelle all day.”
“She should have been here with the earlier batch of dancers, but I got this. Apologies. We’ll be fine from here.” Kamaria raised one arm, three fingers extended toward the sky, and turned to scan the stage area.
Some sort of secret sign, Alice surmised. And it worked. Whiskers in the air, the little mice sniffed the summons, poked their cohorts, and lifted two tiny fingers to the sky.
Kamaria gestured them to come to her, and without a word or squeak they responded. Little dancers removed themselves from the stage, lifted themselves from the grass, and formed a loose semicircle around Kamaria.
“Amazing.” Alice smiled. “Thank you.”
“Discipline is the backbone of dance,” Kamaria said. “And crucial when dealing with dozens of four-year-olds.”
“I’ll leave you to it.”
And with the elegant wave of one hand, Kamaria led the mice to a section of grass beyond the stage, out of the way of the other events.
Crisis averted, Alice headed over to check on her sister, who was running the games. “I love a good field day!” Violet had been enthusiastic when she’d learned of her mission. You could always count on her to find the fun.
Alice worked the crowd as she moved, directing patrons to the restroom, coaching a boy with fat sneakers on how to tie the fluorescent laces. “That’s right,” Alice said. “Two loops, like rabbit ears . . .” She chatted with Friends of the Library, personal friends, and patrons who’d lived in West Hazel all their lives. People talked most about their selfies with Ginger or Alphie, the alpacas, who’d been brought in by a local family. “We’ll have to bring them back next year,” Alice promised.
Back onstage, Taylor commanded the microphone, thanking the orchestra. Someone in the brass section let out a low toot, which evoked laughter.
“Was that the trombone?” Taylor asked, turning abruptly so that her long, honey-brown hair swung round behind her. “Shout out to the brass section. I’ve got some Tums if you need them.” That girl possessed stage presence and musical talent, too. Alice wondered if that might be a path for Taylor, when she finally launched. Sooner than later, please. At twenty-two Taylor was eager to fly but stuck on the ground, living with her gran.
Dodging two strollers and a gaggle of boys in a bean bag battle, Alice headed toward the festively colored tents. She passed the blue tent designated for face painting, a red tent for finger painting and spin art. At the end of the parking lot, the lawn events were cordoned off by a portable picket fence.
Inside the game area a cluster of children hopped and yelped in unison, apparently on cue from Violet, who was explaining the rules of a game. Strict on the surface, Violet looked every inch the schoolmarm with her auburn hair twisted into a bun and a navy blazer broadening her shoulders. She had a knack for drawing kids to her. Maybe they sensed her innate kookiness, or perhaps they knew she could be trusted. For whatever reason, kids had flocked to the game lawn all afternoon, thrilled to toss bean bags, shoot a Nerf gun at empty cans, or chase someone around the circle in duck, duck, goose. Alice’s favorite event was the go-fish pond, a chance to snag a prize in a kiddie pool full of water. It was the perfect exercise for Alice: low impact and a perennial reward.
Content that all was well in game land, Alice turned and spotted her childhood friend Ruby Milliner. Back in the seventies they’d been neighbors in Queens Village, New York. “Friends 4-ever!” they’d inked on a tree in Ruby’s backyard. More than fifty years later, here they were on the West Coast, neighbors and friends in West Hazel, Oregon. Alice had found her sweet spot in this charming town with the most utilized library in the state of Oregon.
“Let me tell you about my day,” Ruby said. “Oh, I did that shift this morning at the lost children’s table.”
“I saw you working your magic there,” Alice said. “Drying some tears.”
“Sweet little things. No one was really lost, just misplaced. I’ve got the grandkids now—two of Ada’s. She’s off getting a pedicure. That girl needs it! But you’ve got to see this temporary tattoo.” Ruby motioned toward her granddaughter. “Beebee, tater, come here. Show Alice your arm.”
Summoned from the picket fence, which she and her brother had been trying to climb, Beebee traipsed over and stuck out her arm.
A colorful butterfly seemed ready to spring from its spot on Beebee’s smooth brown skin. The kaleidoscope of colors on its wings were thrilling, but Alice was sold on the animation. It had personality.
“It’s gorgeous. Beebee. I think it’s winking at me. It must be enchanted. You can never wash your arm again.”
“Okay,” Beebee promised politely.
“Don’t tell her that.” Ruby swatted Alice’s arm. “Hard to believe this was done by an art student,” she insisted.
Alice agreed, but their conversation was cut short when Trevor whimpered that he needed someone to paint a truck on his arm. “Here we go again,” Ruby said, letting the boy drag her away by the hand.
“Make sure it’s got big wheels,” Alice called after them.
Seeing that the mice were taking the stage, Alice found an empty chair at the end of one row to take a momentary break and watch the performance. As the music started, the mice stood in three groups, stepping to the ticktock rhythm of the music. Happy mice were they, until they were invaded.
Three lithe cats pranced on the stage, sending the mice fleeing to the back of the stage. The cats were girls of twelve or thirteen, Alice guessed, noting how they raised their arms gracefully and rose onto the tips of their ballet slippers. She knew that dancing on the toes could cause permanent damage in immature bones. Experts suggested that most girls wait until they were at least eleven until they danced on pointe.
It had been this restriction that had prompted her daughter Lauren to stomp out of the local dance studio at age eight, never to return to formal dance instruction.
Ages ago. And all these years later, Lauren was just as hardheaded.
Alice let out a breath and smiled at the children onstage. It hurt not to have Lauren in her life, but then again, it hadn’t been her plan to cut off relations. At least she’d had Lauren’s daughters, Taylor and Madison, over the past several years. Important years for a young woman, middle school and teen years.
Then again, each season of a woman’s life had its turning-point moments.
Onstage, the three clever cats had hunkered down so that they resembled large rocks. And there they lingered, watching, waiting to pounce, as the fleet of small mice came frolicking back onto the stage. Some seemed locked in concentration as they moved through a prescribed dance routine. Others stumbled, tumbled, and rolled like ants spilling out into sunshine.
“Kids,” she murmured. You never could predict how they’d behave in any given situation. Alice tore herself away from the ballet and headed back to the book tent. The meese-kins were the final performance of the day, and, as it was pushing four, the crowd was thinning. Dinnertime.
Noticing a cluster of abandoned chairs near the food trucks, she began to fold them up and load them onto a rolling cart. The air was cooling, stirring the leaves, and brushing Alice’s hair from her cheeks. Silver hair that Ruby insisted was gray. “You want silver, honey?” Ruby had pressed her, more than once. “I can put you in a hair piece that sparkles! Our platinum series.” A generous offer from the owner of Ruby’s House of Wigs and Hairpieces. But Alice chose to stay natural. Sixty-five years she’d spent earning this battleship gray. That ought to count for something.
Alice stacked another chair as the music faded and Taylor announced an end to the festival. “We’ve got one more song to send you on your way,” she said, strumming a chord on her guitar. Alice smiled as Taylor’s bright voice filled the area. Yes, Alice was biased, but the girl warmed her heart. The song had a tempo she could match with her task, and soon the remaining chairs were folded and stacked.
By the time the song ended, and Taylor wrapped up the event, it was clear that the day was done. The mice had exited the stage area, and there was now an exodus of families and small groups crossing the grounds and dispersing into the neighborhood. The food trucks were still serving, but the lines had dwindled.
At the edge of the parking lot Alice alerted to the sight of a police vehicle. What was that about? Shielding her eyes from the sun, she scanned the departing crowd and noticed the one person walking toward her.
Madison. Her granddaughter, the rookie cop. Paying a friendly visit as the festival wrapped up? Alice hoped that was the case, but from the purposeful way Madison strode forward, she had her doubts.
“Did you catch the last song of the festival?” Alice asked. “Your sister closed the show.”
“She was awesome.” Madison nodded, and for the zillionth time Alice marveled at the lovely features she shared with her sister. Madison’s hair, eyes, and skin tone mirrored those of her twin sister, and yet, Madison’s grounded, decisive personality shone in a different light. Identical twins, antithetical personalities. “But I came to talk to Aunt Vi. A police matter.”
“Is Violet in trouble?”
“Vice Principal Violet Pepper? Pillar of the community?”
“Everyone has a few skeletons in her closet.” For Violet, that included a pursuit of astrology and tarot cards and Wiccan rituals in the forest. Extracurriculars that some conservative parents might frown upon. And those were the “hobbies” Violet had shared with Alice.
“Do you know where she is?” Madison asked. “I have some questions for her about a missing persons case.”
Missing persons. The very phrase made Alice’s belly ache, her body clench. She’d filed one of those once. The agony of waiting and worrying had imprinted on her psyche. It remained in her DNA, ever present, ready to ignite like a match.
“Is she here?” Madison asked.
“Yes, yes, she’s running the games. I’ll take you to her.” Alice started walking toward the green without checking to see if Madison was with her. She had to walk, shake this off. Madison didn’t know. The twins had been too young, and the story would only bring them pain and doubt.
“Gran, are you okay?”
“Fine.” Most of the children had left the green, and Ruby and Taylor had found Violet in the game area. They were chatting, storytelling, laughing. When they caught sight of Madison, merriment fled their faces like a scattering flutter of butterflies.
“Oh, Lordy, it’s bad news, isn’t it?” Ruby scowled at Madison. “You know I love you, honey, but when you wear that uniform you’re the harbinger of bad news.”
“We’ve had a report of a missing person. I’m wondering if you’ve heard from Michelle Chong in the past twenty-four hours?” Madison asked.
Alice pictured Michelle, owner of the dance and martial arts studios. Roughly Alice’s age, fit, and, with her martial arts background, prepared to defend herself. Creative and generous, smart and clever. There had to be some mistake.
“We’ve been checking with friends,” Madison said, “and you’re on the list, Aunt Vi.”
“I just saw her this week, Wednesday night.” Wide-eyed, Violet shook her head. “She hosted our book club. But I haven’t talked to her since then.”
Alice stepped forward, feeling a personal attachment. “I was there Wednesday.” She’d been a visitor at that book club meeting. “Her students were performing for us today.” She nodded toward the stage. “I should have known something was amiss when Michelle didn’t show. She’s usually so reliable.”
“That’s what I’ve been hearing. People say it’s not like her to head off without checking in.” Was Madison’s face unusually pale? Sometimes her job as a West Hazel police officer put her in difficult situations.
“How long has she been missing?” asked Ruby.
“According to her husband, Lars, Michelle went for coffee yesterday morning and didn’t return home. We’ve been calling Portland-area hotels and hospitals, but there’s no sign of her.”
“That doesn’t sound good,” Alice said.
“I’m sorry, Aunt Violet.” Technically, Violet was a great-aunt to the twins, but the family didn’t dwell on those titles. Madison squeezed the gold star on her collar, a nervous habit. “Her husband seems to think she was kidnapped, but—”
“Kidnapped!” Violet gasped. “Who would do that to Michelle?”
“Mr. Olsen has no suspect in mind, and the theory is a little light on evidence. Olsen gave us a list of friends to contact for information, and I wanted to talk to you personally. Have you heard from her in the past day or so?”
“I have not,” Violet said. “But we’re not normally in touch every day.”
Madison nodded. “Of course. It was worth a try.”
“What can we do to help?” Taylor asked.
“We’re signing up volunteers for a search of some public areas tomorrow,” Madison said.
“Count me in,” Taylor said, hands on hips. “But maybe she’ll come home tonight.”
Ruby clasped her hands together. “I’ll say a little prayer.”
“Knowing Michelle, I think she’s safe. She’s one of the most competent people I know,” Violet said, staring off over the trees. “I’ve seen her in action. She’s not a woman who would be easily overcome by an attacker.”
“We don’t know that she was attacked,” Madison said.
Violet touched her chin, thoughtful. “I just can’t fathom that something bad could happen to her.”
Or maybe Violet didn’t want to consider that possibility. Alice squeezed her sister’s shoulder; she understood all too well the scourge of worry. “Any clues about where she might have gone?”
Madison’s eyes were warm with sympathy. “I wish we had some leads to follow. So far, no one has a clue about where she might be.” She cast a sympathetic look toward Violet. “She just disappeared.”
“This is just awful.” Violet pressed her palms to her cheeks and stared down at the ground. “I don’t know what to think.”
Alice slipped her arm over Violet’s shoulders and drew her close as a wariness descended on their group. Without speaking, their circle tightened up, and the distractions of the festival faded.
“What exactly did Lars say?” Violet asked. “I mean, maybe she flew to see her family in LA. Or she could have booked a getaway spa weekend. Isn’t that possible?”
“The husband claims that nothing was out of the ordinary.”
“But she’s gone,” Alice said. “And the fact is, humans leave a trail wherever they go. Breadcrumbs and footprints. We need to find Michelle’s trail.”
Violet took in a breath, strong, resolute. “I’m going to stay positive and believe that Michelle is okay,” she said. “After all, she’s an athletic dancer and a martial arts expert. She’s a woman equipped to defend herself.”
Taylor tucked a swath of shiny hair behind one ear. “I’ve had classes with her. If someone crossed Michelle, she would totally kick their—”
“Let’s just agree that she’s tactically fit for defense,” Alice said, interrupting her granddaughter. She refrained from pointing out that even the best martial arts experts could not stop a bullet. This was a time to remain positive. “And it’s quite possible this is just some misunderstanding. But it’s not something we can solve here in the parking lot amid the leftovers of the festival.”
“And I’ve got to go,” Madison said. “There are a few more people I need to contact.”
“When does your shift end?” Alice asked, catching herself before she could call her granddaughter “honey.” It was important to respect Madison’s professionalism, but she was eager to squeeze more information from her. The puzzle of Michelle’s disappearance was already tugging on Alice. “Can you join us at the house and help fill in some of the details?”
“I’m off at six. Later if something breaks.”
“Keep us posted, and we’ll put some dinner aside for you,” Alice promised as Madison headed off.
“And you can sign us all up for the search party tomorrow,” Ruby called after her.
“Will do.”
“I have a date with my masseuse,” Ruby admitted, “but I’ll reschedule.”
Violet’s eyes opened wide as she turned to Ruby. “That’s huge! You, giving up Mischa?”
“I know, and my shoulder’s been killing me, but . . . this is important,” Ruby said with a nod.
“We’ll meet back at the house. I’ve got some barbecue sliders ready to go. Homemade coleslaw, too,” Alice said.
“Sounds delicious,” Ruby said. “But first I need to get horizontal. My boudoir beckons.”
“Thank you all for helping out today,” Alice told them before they turned away. “Couldn’t have done it without you.”
“It takes a village, Gran.” Taylor took a few steps on the grass, did a cartwheel, and stuck the landing. That girl followed her own rainbow.
“I’m going to check with some of my book club peeps,” Violet said. “Maybe someone knows something.”
Alice suggested her office for privacy, but Violet wanted to remain outside. “Right now I need the fresh air.”
“You know, I’d like to talk with them, too. Feel free to invite anyone over tonight. Maybe we can arrange for a meeting tomorrow or the next day.”
Violet nodded. “Thank you for taking this on.” She retrieved her cell from a pocket of her blazer and walked off to make her calls.
Watching her sister retreat under the orange-leafed oak trees at the edge of the library block, Alice was glad she’d had her introduction to the book club ladies this week. Michelle’s friends might be a valuable resource. She wondered which of the women was closest to Michelle.
“Someone called the cops on us?” Julia Abe exclaimed as she bustled in from the side street and caught up with Alice.
“A noise complaint,” Alice said blandly. “The loud, raucous library.”
“You’re kidding.” Julia shoved her glasses, the transitional lenses now amber, onto her head. “I know you’re joking because Madison told me about Michelle. It’s very scary. I mean, it gives me a bad feeling. What gives? Are you scared, too?”
“Worried. Once I finish up here, we’re going to meet with Madison at the house and puzzle things out.”
“Puzzle out the mystery over a jigsaw puzzle, right?”
Alice smiled. “I knew you’d like that.”
“Such a wordsmith.” As Julia tipped back her head to look up at Alice, the late-afternoon sun caught the fuchsia pink in her hair, the same color as the speckles in her glasses. A deliberate color match, and one that suited her. Julia’s original highlights had been the outcome of a challenge to her son, Riley. If he got his math grade up to a C, she would dye her hair. She’d been thrilled when he’d been victorious and had chosen a lime-green dye. “It’s the real me!” she’d announced.
“Okay, we need to get this operation buttoned up.” Julia squinted, rubbed her nose with the back of one hand, and then pushed her glasses on as she scanned the scene. “I’ll deal with the vendors, and we’ve got people coming to dismantle the tents and stage tomorrow. Not to play boss, but if you can just make sure the books make it inside, we’re golden.”
“I’m on it, boss,” Alice said. There were a few staffers ready to help. The task would be quick.
“But first I’ve got to find my darling son. He’s out there, somewhere. I hope he’s behaving, though I doubt it.”
“A model citizen, I’m sure.” Alice got a kick out of Julia’s ten-year-old twins—reminders of her twin granddaughters who’d spent many of their growing years under Alice’s roof. “The last time I saw Riley he was over by the ice cream truck.”
“That boy!” Julia huffed. “I told him no more.”
“I might have given him a few bucks. H. . .
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