Murder at the Inn

When the Applegate Paranormal Preservation Society visits Firefly Junction, Sunni Taylor finds herself tasked with writing an article about the group as well as hosting them for an evening at the Cider Ridge Inn. When the society moves on to their next destination, the famously haunted Dandelion Inn in the neighboring town, one member dies in a tragic fall. But things don't seem quite right at the accident scene and soon Sunni finds herself wrapped up in a possible murder investigation with her favorite detective, Brady Jackson.

Book 3 of the Firefly Junction Cozy Mystery series

Lana poked her head in through the back screen door. "I come bearing gifts." A basket lined with a pink linen napkin and adorned with a polka dot ribbon followed her head.
"My yummy nut date bars." She stepped inside.

I was already halfway across the kitchen to the basket. I reached in to grab a gooey bar, Lana's own concoction of chewy dates, peanut butter and whatever goodies she had in her kitchen pantry.

"Hmm, it's still warm. Are those pistachio nuts I'm tasting?"

"Yep, and chunks of chocolate, but you already know that because you have a sixth sense when it comes to chocolate." Lana walked straight to the coffee pot. She had recently decided to highlight her brunette hair with streaks of pale silver in an attempt to camouflage the emerging strands of gray. I still wasn't sure how I felt about the style change.

I placed the basket on the large pine table in the center of the kitchen. The Cider Ridge Inn's kitchen was easily my favorite spot in the massive house. The dogs seemed to agree. Newman and Redford were stretched out in front of the giant brick hearth. It wore the wonderful patina of age and use. The original black kettle still hung over the spit. I had yet to use the two-hundred-year-old cooking hearth, but its restoration was on my list of a million other projects to bring the inn up to code and make it a welcome place for visitors. That dream was still a long way off, however, making my current day job as a journalist for the Junction Times a necessity.

"I'm just about to head to work." I reached into the basket and pulled out two more bars, one for my coffee break and one for Myrna, my favorite workmate. "I suppose I should ask why my sister has baked me a basket of my favorite date bars."

Lana batted her lashes innocently as she took a sip of coffee. She released a "hmm, coffee" sigh as she lowered the cup. "Why can't I just make something nice for my favorite sister?" A fabulously fake smile followed.

"Well, if this basket had arrived by way of my little sister, Emi, then I wouldn't think twice about it or even question the motive. But when my big sister skips in with a wonderful treat, it usually means she's about to ask me to fill three hundred goodie bags for an upcoming party event." I lifted my right hand. "I still have paper cuts from the four hundred origami swans I helped you fold for the Richman wedding. By the way, I'm folding those things in my dreams and the other day I absently folded my napkin into a swan while I was eating a sandwich at Layers. Fortunately, Raine, my lunch mate understood and sympathized. She said she can't look at a square of toilet paper without wondering how it would look with wings."

Lana lingered over a few more sips of coffee. "I just need to ask you one little favor."

"Ah-ha, I knew it. These yummy bars came with a price." I broke off another piece. "Out with it. You've come this far and I'm not handing these back so what is it you need? Counting Jordan almonds for treat bags? Folding paper stars for garlands? Stringing lights around the barn?"

"Hosting a small group for a night in the Cider Ridge Inn."

A sharp laugh shot from my mouth. "Funny lady."

"Actually, I'm serious." Lana's chin jutted forward, signaling that she was switching to her persuasive salesperson mode. There were few people on earth who could resist a Lana Taylor sales pitch. It was the secret behind her success. "It's a charming little group called the—" she smiled enthusiastically. "You're going to love this. They are known as the Applegate Paranormal Preservation Society." Before I could interject or toss out an objection, she held up her finger. "Wait. There's more. Their motto is—" Her brown eyes lifted in thought, then she pulled out her phone. "I want to get this exactly right because it's so awesome." I'd already given up the fight and glanced at the clock on the wall while she pulled up the awesomeness on her phone. "Here it is. They call themselves APPS for short and they are—" She cleared her throat. Only Lana could make this big of a production out of something as silly as a club motto. "APPS is dedicated to helping spirits lead full un-lifes." She chuckled. "Get it? Un-lifes."

"Never heard such a clever play on prefixes and words." Sarcasm dripped off my response. "Lana, you must be out of your mind. The inn is so far from ready for visitors, there's just no possible way."

"But that's why they want to stay here. Cider Ridge Inn is on some important paranormal ghost hunter list as one of the most haunted homes in the region. The creepier, more dilapidated and creakier, the better. Look, it's one night. I'll bring all the food and amenities. You just need to provide the inn and any of those spirits that might be lurking in the crumbling walls and rafters." She winked dramatically as if we were both part of a two-person society of skeptics. Lana didn't believe in ghosts, and neither had I until Edward Beckett, the resident ghost, made his first introduction.

My gaze circled the kitchen. Usually by now, this topic would have already conjured my incorporeal friend, but I didn't see or hear him.

Lana walked to the sink to wash her cup. "I'd hate to think that the Dandelion Inn over in Birch Highlands was going to get all the publicity and recognition as a haunted inn. They are staying at the Dandelion on their second night, and I don't think that place has half the haunted character as this one. But if you want Dandelion Inn to become the cool place to visit, then that's your choice."

I snuffled an "oh, pleeze" sound. "As if I ever had a choice in this matter, once you made up your mind that it would happen."

She put the cup in the drying rack and spun around. "So, you'll let them stay?"

"I'm not happy about the idea but I know if I say no, you'll stay here and bug me until I say yes, and I'm late for work."

The pots and pans hanging from the rack over the pine table swung into each other, creating a light tinny clatter. It seemed I'd found my ghost.

Lana stared up in confusion at the pots that were still in pendulum motion. "What caused that to happen?"

I was constantly having to drum up excuses for unexplained events. "Occasionally a breeze shoots through the back screen door."

Lana reached up and stopped one of the pots from moving. "Must have been a good strong breeze to move aluminum and iron pots. Sometimes, it almost seems as if you do have a spirit hanging around the inn. A few of those weird occurrences should be perfect for their visit. They'll be thrilled."

"How many people can I expect?"

"Just five."

"Really?" I was starting to smell an ulterior motive. "You don't usually bother with small parties of five. What's in this for you?"

Lana picked at some invisible specks on the pine table. "It might lead to something more substantial and lucrative."

"Substantial and lucrative," I repeated. "Now that sounds more like my sister Lana."

She sighed loudly. "All right, so I'm doing this as a favor to show the group that I'm the perfect party planner for the annual October Paranormal Society Convention. Every year the ghost hunter groups get together for a big shindig, and this year they are considering Firefly Junction. It would be a great gig."

"Fine. But you're going to owe me more than just a basket of date bars." My phone buzzed. I picked it up from the counter. "Oh shoot, I forgot the electrician was coming this morning."

"Then you decided to rewire the house first? I guess that's why I don't hear Ursula's incessant harping this morning," Lana said.

"Yes, they have a few weeks off. They had some small job over in Hickory Flats, and yes, I hate to admit it but I'm looking forward to the break. Not that I'm kidding myself. The electrical upgrade is going to cost me a fortune, but Henry was right; I need to have the electrical wiring brought up to modern code before we go any further with the restoration. Guess it's a good thing you delayed me, or I might have missed him."

"See, big sister to the rescue as always," Lana quipped as she headed to the back door.

"Oh, really? Think you have that backward this time. When can I expect the apples?"

Lana laughed. "APPS, and they will be here tomorrow night." She blurted the last part quickly before walking out.

I lunged toward the door and swung it open as she hurried down the steps.

"Tomorrow night? Thanks for all the advanced notice."

She waved over her shoulder without looking back.

"Your sister is pushy," Edward's deep drawl rolled around the vast kitchen.

I shut the back door and turned around. He was standing (as well as someone made of vapor could stand) beneath the hanging rack of pots and pans, shifting them back and forth with his long, transparent fingers. The gentle clanging sounds produced reminded me of the pulleys on boats moored in an agitated harbor. The blue ribbon holding the queue of hair at Edward's neck was always tied perfectly in a bow. His cravat, the one article of clothing that had been loosened while he lay dying from a gunshot wound, always hung in exactly the same position around his neck. The shiny black Hessian boots, the ones that were too difficult to remove on his death bed, hovered just above the kitchen floor as he tapped the pots one more time, sending them into a metallic chorus.

"Please stop playing music on my pots and pans. By the way, I need you to be on your best behavior today. An electrician will be here for the next week working on wiring throughout the house."

He turned around and leaned against the pine table, crossing the boots at his ankles. It was a casual stance that always made him look alive and solid, even though his feet weren't touching the ground. "What a lot of bother. Candles and a few gas lanterns are all that's needed to light up this house."

"And to set it on fire, too," I added. "I think we'll stick with electricity. Beeswax gives me a headache, and I just don't see myself walking around every night with a candlestick in my hand."

"Did your sister suffer some sort of shock?"

"What do you mean?"

His lighter than air fingers fluttered toward his own dark head of hair. "Those white streaks in her hair. Did she experience some sort of fright?"

I laughed lightly. "No fright...unless you count a fear of looking forty."

Edward coasted over to check out the contents of Lana's goodie basket. "Looks like bricks of mud. Your sister brought you bricks of mud, and you immediately caved to her demand that you allow strangers into the house."

"They aren't bricks of mud and I didn't cave. I compromised. And it's only for one night. Just make yourself scarce tomorrow night. Scratch that. Make yourself completely nonexistent."

I had no other ghosts to compare him to, but Edward was particularly striking and handsome, a quality that caused him more trouble than good when he was of flesh and blood. His dark, appealing good looks were very much to blame for his untimely death when they proved too tempting for Bonnie Ross, the original lady of the house. An angry husband, Edward's distant cousin, no less, sent Edward to an early grave with a dueling pistol. Only that grave didn't seem to be able to hold him, and he somehow ended up lingering in the hallways and empty rooms of the Cider Ridge Inn. His reason for staying behind was a mystery to both of us, but I intended to find out one day. At least, one day when I had a moment of free time.

A truck pulled up to the house. "The electrician is here. Go find something to keep yourself occupied today and stay out of his way. He came highly recommended, and I don't need you scaring him off with your ghostly antics."

"Highly recommended? This from the woman who hired two court jesters to restore the house." With that, Edward vanished into thin air.