It was a dark, rainy night at Nora Pennington’s Miracle Books when a mysterious death brings the Secret, Book, and Scone Society into the Halloween season on the trail of a murderer . . .
As the residents of Miracle Springs, North Carolina, select their costumes, plan parties, and get excited for a night of tricks or treats, Nora joins in on the festivities by hosting medium memoirist Lara Luz at the bookstore. Charismatic and compelling, Lara mesmerizes the audience with her life story. Struck by a bolt of lightning as a child, she was pronounced dead only to be resurrected with the ability to connect with those on the other side.
Lara performs a reading for a select group of bookstore patrons when the encroaching storm knocks out the power. In the sudden darkness, howling cold winds intensify, and Lara clutches her heart, collapsing dead without warning. But Nora doesn’t believe she died of natural causes. Not one member of the psychic’s reading group—which includes the town’s widower pharmacist, an urgent care nurse, a mystery author, and even truculent Deputy Hollowell—were admirers of Lara.
Nora confirms this when she stumbles upon Lara’s journal in the aftermath of her death. For within its leathery bound pages are the medium and her clients’ deepest and darkest secrets, written in code. Now, Nora and the Secret, Book, and Scone Society must sift through the suspects and their motives to uncover which one of them is a killer before he or she is tempted to strike again . . .
Publisher:
Kensington Books
Print pages:
320
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Nora Pennington had never seen so many people inside Mir acle Books at once. Her heart swelled as she gazed around, taking in the glorious sight.
Customers stood in the aisles, milled around the stacks, and occupied the folding chairs arranged in tight rows in the Readers’ Circle.
Earlier that day, Nora’s new employee, Charlie Kim, had loaded the old and well-loved upholstered chairs onto a furniture dolly and wheeled them into the stockroom. After clearing away the coffee table, he’d stood back and examined the space.
“It’s gonna be a tight squeeze,” he’d said.
Nora hadn’t shared his concerns. “We probably won’t have a very big crowd. It’s our first time trying this type of event, so I’m keeping my expectations low.”
The event had come together at the last minute. Allie Ken nedy, a cozy mystery author, planned to be in the area visiting her in-laws and thought Miracle Books would be the perfect place to promote her new release, The Dry Bar Murders. After receiving a call from Allie’s publicist, Nora had agreed to host the event. Then she’d immediately called Charlie.
Making no effort to suppress her panic, she’d said, “I’m sorry to bother you on a Sunday, but this is an emergency. We’re about to have our first author event. Ever.”
“Ever?”
Charlie had every right to be surprised. After all, Miracle Books had been in business for over a decade.
“I know, it’s crazy that we haven’t had one before, but we really don’t have the space for a big audience. I can’t cram an author into the children’s section while their audience sits on the alphabet rug like a bunch of preschoolers. And until you came along, I didn’t have the staff to manage an author signing. That might change now. I got an email from another publicist this morning, asking for a last-minute booking on Halloween, and I’m going to say yes.”
“This is so cool, Ms. P. How many days do I have to promote the event?”
“Er, Allie Kennedy is coming next Saturday.”
Charlie had let out a low whistle. “I’ll do what I can, but we’re gonna need help spreading the word.”
Nora’s friends had been happy to oblige. Estella Sadler hung a flyer at her salon, June Dixon added the event to the activities calendar placed in every guest room of the massive hotel where she worked as Guest Services Manager, and Hester Winthrop had immediately offered to bake treats for the occasion.
Nora’s next move had been to run a Google search on mocktail recipes. Allie Kennedy’s cozy mystery series featured an amateur sleuth who’d opened a bar serving nonalcoholic beverages in a small town known for its cocktail lounges and microbrewery pubs. It was a clever premise, and when Nora read reviews of the latest release in the series, it was clear that many readers wanted to visit a dry bar like the one Allie Kennedy had invented.
Allie’s publicist promised to FedEx copies of The Dry Bar Murders as well as the other five books in the series, but Nora hoped Allie’s readers wouldn’t limit their purchases to cozy mysteries, so she ordered a dozen mocktail recipe books, easy appetizer cookbooks, and a few books on entertaining at home.
The orders required expedited shipping, which was expensive. As Nora placed the order, she prayed the event would be a rousing success.
“If I let her down, she might kill a bookstore proprietor in her next book,” she’d murmured, feeling anxious about the whole affair. “What if no one comes?”
After pouring herself a glass of wine, Nora had sat in her partner’s living room, wondering if it had been a mistake to agree to the event.
When Nora first bought the town’s old train station building, she’d dreamed of opening a bookstore that would become a social hub for the residents of Miracle Springs and an unforgettable destination for visitors. Though she’d succeeded in both of these endeavors, she wanted more. She wanted the shop to be a mecca for readers and writers of every genre, and fantasized about Miracle Books becoming a fixture on promotional tours.
However, staying open past six in the evening required staff.
Until recently, Nora had worked nine hours a day for six days a week. Her part-time employee, Sheldon Vega, worked from ten to three. With Charlie joining their team, it was possible to host more after-hours events.
Charlie showed up after school three days a week and worked until closing. He also worked Saturdays. The high school senior was bursting with ideas for special displays, storytime activities, and new menu items. He was naturally shy, but he’d been coming out of his shell more and more.
“Second best thing you ever did, hiring that kid,” Sheldon had said as he opened another folding chair in preparation for Allie Kennedy’s signing. The event was scheduled to kick off at six thirty, but attendees were arriving early to claim a seat.
“The best thing was investing in these chairs, right?” Nora had teased.
Sheldon had thrown a scowl her way. “I’m the smartest decision you ever made. If I quit, who’d make the perfect latte? What would happen to the singles who come to mingle at my book club? Who’d use silly voices and throw glitter like a stripper during story time? Who’d charm the money right out of people’s wallets?”
“You know I couldn’t survive without you. You’re as much a part of this store as”—Nora had looked around—“that throw pillow.”
The throw pillow in question was embroidered with the text IF YOU DON’T HAVE ANYTHING NICE TO SAY, COME SIT BY ME.
Sheldon’s face had split into a wide grin. “I bet we sell that by the end of the event. Cozy mystery readers like their tea and cats. Their crocheting and cupcakes. But they also love a flawed protagonist, a juicy murder, and a bit of snark. Allie Kennedy gives them all of that and more. Esta noche va a ser asombrosa. Tonight’s going to be amazing.”
Two hours after this declaration, Nora was behind the checkout desk, sliding the needlepoint pillow into a bag along with four Allie Kennedy paperbacks.
“Thank you for coming,” she said, handing the receipt to a woman in a pumpkin-orange coat.
“Thank you. I haven’t had this much fun in years! My friend, Doris, had to twist my arm to get me out of the house. I mean, it’s October! It’s dark by six. And it’s cold. From now until April, I spend my nights the same way. I fix myself a drink and read by the fire. Then I watch something on Acorn or BritBox before going to bed. But Doris wouldn’t let me stay home.”
Doris put a hand on her friend’s shoulder. “Betty, Nora won’t get out of here until midnight if we don’t let her be.”
Swiveling, Betty paled at the sight of the long line. “Oh, I’m sorry!” Turning back to Nora, she said, “Quick question. Will you be having more events like this?”
“Yes. In fact, we’re having another one this month. We’re celebrating Halloween with a Fun and Fright Night. We’re go ing to have activities for young readers, a reading from a horror writer, and a talk and demonstration by a psychic medium named Lara Luz.”
“A medium?” Betty cried. “Count me in! What about you, Doris?”
Doris looked a little frightened. “I don’t know. I don’t read horror—it gives me nightmares—so I think the medium might be too scary for me. The only place I want to talk to my dead relatives is at the cemetery.”
Nora handed Doris her bag of books. “The readings are a separate ticketed event,but Lara’s talk will focus on her childhood.She’s going to explain how she suddenly became sensitive to other presences and how that changed her life.” Raising her voice so that everyone waiting in line could hear her, Nora gestured at the display table to the right of the checkout desk. “If you’re interested in Lara’s memoir, we have plenty of copies.”
A man stepped out of line to pick up one of the blue books with a white birdcage on the cover. The door of the antiquestyle metal cage was ajar, and little white birds flew toward a pair of cupped hands. Some of the birds looked like doves, while others had straggly feathers and sharp beaks. Nora believed the cover designers were trying to convey the message that not all of the medium’s encounters were positive. Several people purchased copies of Lara’s memoir and told Nora how much they were looking forward to meeting the medium.
“Do you believe in this stuff?” a man asked Nora. “Spirits talking through people or whatever it is she does.”
“I’ve never met a medium before, so I don’t know what to expect,” Nora admitted. “However, I started reading her book last night, and Ms. Luz has some fascinating stories. I have no doubt that her event is going to be very entertaining.”
The man thought this over. “Maybe, but I hope folks don’t get upset. There’s a reason why we say people have passed on. If we accept the idea that they’ve gone on to another place, we can move forward with our lives. Trying to reach that other place? It doesn’t seem right.”
The woman standing next to him plunked a copy of Too Many Voices: Memoir of an Empath on the counter. “I’m buying this, hon, but you don’t have to read it.” She gave her husband a pat on the arm and then smiled at Nora. “Can I bring the book back when Ms. Luz is here? I want her to sign it.”
Nora swiped the woman’s credit card. “Of course.”
It was almost nine by the time the last customer left. Nora was exhausted but elated because it had been a banner evening for sales. Not only had all but one of Allie Kennedy’s books sold, but at least ten customers had bought Lara Luz’s memoir as well.
Nora locked the front door and turned the corner of the fiction section. She heard her best friends—Hester, Estella, and June—moving around in the ticket agent’s booth. Once upon a time, a clerk had sat on one side of the pass-through window, distributing train tickets to travelers. Now the narrow space was the bookstore’s kitchen. It was a tight squeeze for two people, let alone three.
Peering around the doorway, Nora said, “I hope you’re not cleaning.”
June shoved something in the fridge and closed the door. “Just putting the extra food away so it doesn’t spoil. Estella’s wiping the counters. Sheldon was serving mocktails as fast as he could, so everything’s super-sticky.”
“Even the money.” Estella put a pile of cash on the window ledge. “The tip jar was overflowing. Looks like these bills took a bath in lime juice.”
“I wiped chocolate buttercream off a few too,” Hester said, raising her voice to be heard over the splash of sink water. “Someone’s cupcake got decapitated on that counter.” She held up the knife she’d just washed and flashed Nora a maniacal grin. “It was a case of cupcake murder!”
June pointed at the knife. “I bet the baker is the killer in Allie’s latest book. We should read it for book club and find out.”
“I’ll order more copies,” Nora said. “Now, I love you gals, but you need to get out of this kitchen. Go home and put your feet up.” She pointed at Estella. “Especially you.”
The corners of Estella’s red lips turned down. “Ever since I started showing, people treat me like I’m fragile. Just because I’m pregnant doesn’t mean I’m weak.”
“You’re a steel magnolia, but you’ve been on your feet all day taking care of clients.” Nora studied her friend. Despite her flawless makeup, Estella looked tired.
“No need to worry, because we’re done,” June said, propelling Estella out of the ticket agent’s booth. “If you’re looking for Ms. Kennedy, she was browsing the cookbook section.”
Nora gave each of her friends a hug, wished them a good night, and headed past the mystery and romance sections. She paused to switch off lamps in the horror and science fiction nooks before continuing on to the cookbook and gardening shelves. As she walked, her eyes scanned the familiar lines and angles of her store. She wanted to add a display of signed books but could see there wasn’t a square inch to spare.
Her eyes roved over the colorful spines marching along the polished wood shelves. On the end of every row, more books filled endcap displays. Waterfall shelves and tables stuffed with books were scattered throughout the store. Every space was being used. There was no room for a new display.
“I’ll just hang them from the ceiling,” she muttered under her breath.
Turning the corner of nonfiction, she arrived at Young Adult, which was a dead end surrounded by bookshelves on all sides. This was a popular hangout spot for Miracle Springs teens. They loved to sit on the floor with their backs pressed to the shelves and a rainbow of books spread around them. They’d read cover blurbs, scroll through social media on their phones, or do homework. They drank hot chocolate and scooped up new releases from their favorite authors on pub day. They were some of Nora’s best customers.
Because this section was in the far corner of the store, the teens rarely disturbed other shoppers. As a rule, they weren’t loud, but a large group of teenage girls could produce a cacophony of sound that wasn’t always in keeping with the bookstore’s calm vibe.
However, the sound Nora heard as she approached Allie Kennedy’s turned back wasn’t a happy one. It was sniffling.
Allie Kennedy was crying.
“She was here! At my event!” Allie whispered into her phone. “I won’t let her ruin everything. Never again. Never!”
Nora retreated as quickly and quietly as she could and helped Charlie reposition one of the bulky upholstered chairs that made up the Readers’ Circle.
When they were done, he pointed at the front of the store. “We still have a customer. He just wants to look at the new release table before he goes. I didn’t even know he was in the store. Bro just popped out of the bathroom while Sheldon and I were pushing the cartload of folding chairs. You should’ve seen Sheldon. I thought he was going to need an adult diaper.”
Nora wagged a finger at Charlie. “One day, your body will age, and you’ll be sorry you ever made fun of your elders.”
“Sheldon’s not old. He’s only in his sixties.”
Nora nodded in approval. “Better.”
Catching movement out of the corner of her eye, Nora turned to see Allie approaching. The mystery author looked completely composed. Her eyes were dry, and she’d applied a fresh coat of lipstick. Glancing between Nora and Charlie, she put a hand on her chest and said, “I’m so sorry! Am I keeping you from closing?”
“Not at all,” Nora assured her. “We still have a customer up front. I’m going to see if he needs any help. When you’re ready to head out, I can unlock the door for you.”
“If it’s okay, I’d like to grab a mocktail book before I go.”
Nora led Allie to the front to find a man in a gray coat and newsboy cap standing by the display of Lara Luz’s books. He held a copy in his hands and was so engrossed that he didn’t look up until Nora was almost on top of him. He seemed embarrassed to be caught reading the memoir and hastily put the book down on the table.
“I hope I haven’t overstayed my welcome,” he said. “I’ll settle up now and be on my way.”
As Nora walked behind the checkout counter, she noticed the abrupt shift in Allie’s demeanor. The light had leached from her face, and her eyes looked haunted. She stared at the table of memoirs as if hypnotized.
Hoping to distract her, Nora smiled at the man in the cap. “When I was in college, I always stayed at the library until they kicked me out. There’s just something about being in the company of books. But it’s about to get noisy because Charlie’s plugging in the vacuum.”
The man tapped his temple. “I should do that before my wife gets home. She’s out of town, visiting her sister.” He turned to Allie. “She’ll be devastated when she hears you were in Miracle Springs and she missed meeting you. But she won’t suffer for long. Next Wednesday’s her birthday. She’s going to be so surprised when I give her a stack of your books.”
Allie smiled sweetly. “You’re a gold-star husband—sitting through this entire event just to get books for your wife.”
“I enjoyed it,” the man enthused. “I had no idea how much research goes into writing a mystery novel, and I love the idea of a dry bar. Even though I come from a long line of folks who were far too fond of alcohol, I never got the hankering for it. Which of these mocktail recipe books do you recommend? I’d like to get one for my wife.”
Allie picked up a white book with a ginger-colored drink on the cover. “I’ve heard great things about this one.”
The man read the title out loud. “Zero Proof: 90 Non-Alcoholic Recipes for Mindful Drinking.” He flipped through the pages. “I have no idea what mindful drinking means, but the pictures are very pretty. I’ll take it.”
The man gestured for Allie to proceed him to the checkout counter. When Nora tried to make a present of the mocktail book to thank the mystery author for such a successful event, Allie refused.
“You bent over backwards to arrange everything at the midnight hour. I’m not used to showing up to a signing to find food, drinks, and a packed house. When my publicist hears how amazing it was, she’s going to want to add Miracle Books to all of her authors’ tour stops.”
This was exactly what Nora wanted to hear. “Sounds good to me,” she said as she shook Allie’s outstretched hand.
Allie stepped aside, and the man placed his books on the counter. “My wife and I might come back to see the psychic lady. Maybe she can reach out to my granddaddy and ask him where he hid those Civil War coins he showed us when we were kids.”
Nora accepted the man’s credit card, glancing at his name before swiping it. “Ms. Luz offered to host a special session after her talk and book signing. It’s limited to six people, so if you’re really interested, you can sign up using the link on our website.” She passed over his card and his bag of books. “Thank you, Mr. Gentry.”
While Allie waited for Nora to complete the transaction, she opened the cover of one of Lara Luz’s books to read the info on the dust jacket flap. Whatever she saw there unnerved her, and the book slipped right out of her hand.
It fell to the floor, landing in a pool of shadow under the display table. The darkness distorted the images of the birds on the cover until they no longer resembled songbirds. The blue background became more of an ashen gray and the black shapes looked like a cauldron of bats.
Mr. Gentry bent over to retrieve the book. As he put it back on the table, he gazed at Allie in concern. “You’re white as a ghost. Did something in that book scare you?”
Allie waved off the idea. “I was just worried that I damaged the book.”
Nora didn’t believe her, and she could tell that Mr. Gentry didn’t either.
“It’s okay if you got spooked,” he said kindly. “I was joking when I mentioned talking to my granddaddy. The dead should be left in peace. Even if we could communicate with them, nothing good could come from reaching across the void. Such things go against nature. Against God.”
Hoping to put an end to the discussion, Nora came out from behind the counter and opened the front door. The movement caused the sleigh bells hanging on the back of the door to clang loudly, shattering the tranquil atmosphere.
As Nora put a hand over the bells to subdue the noise,a cold wind swept into the shop, depositing a scattering of dried leaves on the carpet.
“‘Wind from the North, do not go forth,’” said Mr. Gentry. “That’s what Granddaddy used to tell us. He was a fisherman, and he had sayings about every which way the wind blew.”
Pale-faced and wild-eyed, Allie shouted, “Goodnight!” and hurried out of the store.
Mr. Gentry shot a nervous glance at the table of Lara Luz books. “Maybe the dead are always speaking. Maybe only some of us can hear them.”
He stepped outside, holding onto his cap to keep the wind from carrying it off. Hunching his shoulders against the bite in the night air, he scuttled up the street. The lamps lit his way until he turned into an alley and disappeared.
As soon as he was out of sight, Nora’s fingers closed around the skeleton key in the door. She heard the satisfying click as the lock engaged.
Turning aroumd, she saw that one of Lara Luz’s books was on the floor, splayed open to a chapter called “Voices from Beyond.”
Nora scooped up the book and closed it with a firm snap. The knife-sharp air seemed to follow her to the back of the store, sinking in her bones with a dampness that felt very much like dread.
Nothing haunts us like the antiques we didn’t buy.
—Anonymous
Nora woke to one of those October mornings that had social media influencers quoting Lucy Maud Montgomery. Spent leaves drifted down from the trees and the mountains were draped in gowns of gold and crimson. There was a Jackson Pollock wildness to the splashes of bright colors. Wispy clouds spiraled across the vivid blue sky.
“Good morning, beautiful,” said a low, gravelly voice from the bedroom doorway. “I have coffee.”
Nora smiled at her partner, Sheriff Grant McCabe. “You’re even better-looking than this view, and that’s saying something.”
McCabe laughed. “Are you talking about me or the coffee?”
“Both.”
Raising the mug to his lips, McCabe whispered, “She’s into us right now, but as soon as she sees her breakfast, we’ll be yesterday’s news.” He passed her a very full mug. “You’d better take a sip. I don’t care about the carpet, but you’re wearing my favorite Cat Dad T-shirt.”
Nora did as he asked. The coffee was rich and creamy. She felt more awake after a single taste. “Where are my feline alarm clocks?”
“Sharing a square of sunlight in the living room. They woke me up hours ago, so I fed them and closed the door to keep them from getting to you. I tried making eggs in a basket again, and I think I nailed it this time.”
Following him into the kitchen, Nora saw two plates with perfectly browned pieces of rye toast. In the middle of each piece of toast was a fried egg, topped with a sprinkling of salt and pepper.
“You really know how to spoil a girl,” Nora said.
McCabe carried the plates to the dining table. “To be completely transparent, this is an apology breakfast. I have to miss our hike today.”
“Something come up at work?”
“The complaints we’ve been getting about illegal dumping near the AT trailheads? We got another one, so I’m meeting with the park ranger today to come up with a plan.”
The Appalachian Trail attracted thousands of visitors to the area every year, and Nora always found it ironic that some of the same people who hiked the trail to commune with nature saw nothing wrong with depositing their garbage in the woods.
Miracle Springs had a large group of volunteers who spent hours picking up trash from the local trails. McCabe told Nora how the head of this group had asked the sheriff’s department to track down the person or persons re. . .
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