Michele Pariza Wacek's Blog

The Mysterious Case of the Dead Elf: The Redemption Detective Agency Mystery

Chapter 1

“I can’t believe we traded solving a real-life murder case for a drunk Santa fiasco,” Mildred complained as she, along with a gust of wind and fog of floral perfume, entered The Redemption Detective Agency. “How does Charlie get all the luck?”

I wasn’t sure if attending a party where someone died counted as “lucky,” but Mildred seemed to be in one of her moods, so it probably wasn’t worth arguing.

“Ellen needed us, and I for one am glad we were there for her,” Aunt Tilde said firmly, although it sounded more like she was trying to cover up the note of disappointment that had crept into her tone. She was bundled up in a bright-red winter jacket with a hot-pink scarf and purple hat, which didn’t clash as much as you might think with her orange hair and glasses. In a past life, she worked as a nurse, but after retirement, she decided to open up a detective agency—one housed in a space meant for restaurants (failed restaurants, to be precise). This explained why all our desks were lined up in what would have been the dining area, and the coffeemaker and water were set up against the back counter. A few days ago, Aunt Tilde and Nora had spent an afternoon decorating for Christmas, and the area was full of festive red and green decorations and Santa figurines. Nora had even brought in a Christmas tree, although it was definitely the sad Charlie Brown type that could only handle about three ornaments without the branches drooping. At least it smelled nice, though.

Mildred waved one of her black-gloved hands. “Ellen would have been fine. She’s Emily’s sister, so I’m sure some of Emily’s competence rubbed off on her.”

I could feel my cheeks warming from the compliment, although in this case, it wasn’t exactly warranted. Yes, Ellen was my sister, but we were about as opposite as could be. She was more the carefree spirit who just assumed everything would work out for her (and to her credit, and my chagrin, everything usually did), while I was the meticulous planner who did everything I was supposed to, and in return, my life imploded.

But I wasn’t bitter about it. Not really.

Although, in this case, I was wondering if maybe things weren’t as perfect as they normally seemed. Ellen had seemed really stressed, more so than seemed warranted for the situation. Sure, her husband had a last-minute work trip that just happened to coincide with the big Christmas party Ellen was hosting for all the neighborhood kids and their parents, but that’s why me, Aunt Tilde, and Mildred went to help out. And sure, the Santa she had hired had gotten drunk and passed out in Jenny’s bedroom, but one of the dads had jumped in to replace him, and the kids didn’t know the difference. At the end of the night, it sure seemed like everyone had a great time.

Everyone but Ellen, that was.

“And as glad as I was to help Ellen,” Mildred continued as she removed her long, navy-blue, wool coat with big black buttons and unwound her matching black scarf, “helping catch a murderer is far more important.” Underneath her coat, she wore a burgundy sweater set with a single strand of pearls and pressed black slacks. It had been a couple of days since her twice-weekly hair appointment, but her permed hair still looked fresh. In her previous life, she was a teacher, but now fancied herself a detective.

I wondered if Mildred realized she hadn’t actually been invited to the Secret Santa party, but it probably wasn’t worth bringing up.

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Secret Santa Murder: A Charlie Kingsley Mystery

Chapter 1

“Charlie, thank goodness you’re here.” Pat immediately ushered me into her foyer, taking my coat off before she had even shut the front door. “It’s already falling apart, and the party has barely even started.”

“How can a Secret Santa party fall apart?” I asked, trying to juggle the three Tupperware containers full of homemade Christmas cookies and my wrapped Secret Santa present. The sounds of laughter and holiday music floated in from the back of the house, and I grimaced. I didn’t like to be late, especially to one of Pat’s parties, but at the last minute, I had decided to bake a batch of gingerbread cookies to go along with my famous Merry Christmas Butter Cookies and Pecan Fingers, and it took longer than I anticipated. “It’s just friends and family members, right?”

Pat gave me a frazzled look. “That was before half the guest list bailed on me. Now, I have people here I barely know, and I’m not sure I’m going to be able to feed them. I already burned the baked brie.”

“You made baked brie?” As far as I knew, Pat had never even attempted to bake before. She was more into eating food than preparing it.

Pat looked at me in exasperation. “What part of ‘burning’ don’t you understand? No, I didn’t make baked brie! It’s burnt! That’s why I need your help!”

Pat was a good decade or so older than me, and the best way to describe her was round—plump, with a round face, round black-rimmed glasses, and short, no nonsense brown hair that was turning grey. She had been one of my first tea customers and had become a good friend.

“Of course. Whatever you need,” I said as soothingly as possible while simultaneously wondering if there was time for me to run home to get some of my extra-strength calming tea. If anyone needed it, it was Pat, but I had a feeling if I tried to leave, she might work herself into such a state that even a gallon of my tea wouldn’t make a dent in her anxiety. “But I don’t understand why there’s no food. Isn’t this supposed to be a potluck?”

Pat threw up her hands. “Yes! That’s exactly what it was supposed to be! But no one brought anything!”

“Wait, people came to a potluck without bringing anything?” The sound of little nails clicking against the hardwood floors momentarily distracted me from the food issue, as Pat’s tiny, teacup poodle burst into view, wagging her tail and jumping up on my ankle. She wore a festive green and red sweater with a giant Christmas tree on it and matching green and red ribbons above her ears. I bent down to greet her, noticing that Pat was wearing a similar Christmas sweater, sans the matching ribbons. “Hi Tiki! You look ready for Christmas.”

“Of course she’s ready. She doesn’t have to do anything other than look cute,” Pat grumbled as Tiki licked my face. “And no, other than you and Claire, no one brought anything. And Claire just brought a seven-layer salad. How can I serve a salad for dinner? This is a Christmas party, for heaven’s sake, not a beach party. This is the time of year where you’re supposed to indulge, not try and lose weight with a skimpy salad.”

I refrained from saying that a seven-layer salad was hardly skimpy. They were typically loaded with cheese, bacon, and rich salad dressing, and I seriously doubted any of that would be on a weight-loss menu. On the other hand, I could see Pat’s point. One seven-layer salad would hardly count as dinner. “I still don’t understand. Why wouldn’t people bring a dish to a potluck?”

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There’s no better to way to start feeling those Christmas vibes than by curling up by the fire with a Christmas cozy mystery. And these 5 gems are perfect if you’re ready to sleuth your way through the season.

Grab your detective hat (or just your favorite scarf), and let’s unwrap these gems. Spoiler: No actual unwrapping required—though a side of peppermint bark wouldn’t hurt. Or maybe eggnog. Spiked, of course.

 

Three French Hens and a Murder by Michele Pariza Wacek

An injured Santa. A dead elf. Can Charlie Kingsley find out who did it before Christmas gets cancelled? A fun Christmas cozy mystery full of good cheer.

 

Christmas Corpse by Kate Forrest

Stranded in a Christmas town, Holly must solve a poisoning case to clear the name of the sweet Mrs. Claus. A fun start to a cute holiday series.

 

A Midwinter Murder by Verity Bright

Homemade baubles, reindeer-shaped cookies and snowy walks across the rolling moors… but Lady Swift’s festive plans are ruined when a body turns up! If you’re a fan of 1920’s British murder mysteries, this series should definitely be on your TBR list.

 

Santa Claus Surprise by Tonya Kappes

In the heart of Holiday Junction, where festive cheer sparkles in every corner, journalist Violet Rhinehammer is preparing for the town’s most magical event of the year: the Mistletoe Masquerade Ball. But when a man is found brutally murdered behind the living manger scene in Holiday Park, the holiday magic is replaced with chilling unease. A fabulous addition to the festive Holiday Cozy

 

Mrs. Claus and the Santaland Slayings by Liz Ireland

This Christmas season, travel to the North Pole you’ve never seen before—where Santa’s new wife, April Claus, is not only set on creating the perfect holiday—she’s also set on solving the perfect crime… A beloved funny and festive cozy mystery series.

 

There you have it, mystery mavens—your holiday hit list for turning “bah humbug” into “by Jove, who did it?” Curl up, crack open a book (and maybe a wine bottle), and let these tales jingle all the way to the killer reveal. Which one’s topping your wishlist? Drop a comment below—or better yet, pin it and tag a friend who’s overdue for some festive foul play. Merry sleuthing, and may your days be merry, bright, and blissfully bloodless!

Chapter 1

“So, how is the weather there? Wait, don’t tell me. On second thought, I don’t want to know,” Pat said before erupting into a major coughing fit.

I cradled the phone receiver to my ear as I slid open the sliding glass door to step out onto the balcony. The sun was shining, and the warm sea air kissed my cheek. “It’s awful.”

“Liar,” Pat said, her voice muffled as she blew her nose. “But I appreciate the thought.”

A few months before, I had won the grand prize from the Redemption Police Department’s raffle—a five-day, six-night stay at a resort in Los Cabos, Mexico, for two. It even included airfare. I was pretty excited. What a great way to start off 1993.

As a currently single woman with no plans to change that status (no matter how hard Office Brandon Wyle was eying me after I won it—of course, who could blame him, with Wisconsin winters being absolutely brutal), I decided to take my best friend Pat. Unfortunately, she caught a terrible cold the day before we were supposed to leave, so I ended up taking the trip on my own.

“You sound terrible,” I said, listening to her cough. “Are you drinking the tea I dropped off?”

“Drinking it now,” Pat croaked out.

Pat had been one of my first tea clients (I had a custom tea business I ran out of my home) before becoming one of my best friends. My clients swore my teas had healing powers, even though I made no such promises. My clients also seemed to find themselves in a lot of legal jams, so in addition to growing the herbs and flowers that I used to make my teas, I also found myself doing a lot of sleuthing. But, as I had no clients and no tea in Mexico, I should be able to take a break from both tea-making and sleuthing.

“Can you see the ocean?” Pat asked.

I squinted, peering around the courtyard below my room. While I knew the resort was built on the beach, alas, I was not able to see it from my balcony. “Not exactly. But there are flamingos.”

“Flamingos? As in, the tall, pink birds that stand on one leg?”

“The very ones,” I said, watching one strut around its enclosure while two others seemed to be simultaneously napping and balancing expertly on one leg. “I’m right above them.”

“Well, that’s certainly better than my view, which is a gray sky and a bunch of snow,” Pat grumbled. “Though I think I’d still prefer the ocean.”

“At least it’s within walking distance,” I said.

Pat blew her nose before erupting into another coughing fit. “I can’t believe I’m here while you’re there. This is so unfair.”

“I promise to take lots of pictures,” I said. “It will almost be like you were here.”

Pat snorted. “Don’t do me any favors.”

***

After I finished settling into my cute little bungalow decorated in a variety of bright, vivid colors and Mexican art, I headed out to do a little exploring. I was also strongly considering having a margarita. I wasn’t a huge drinker, but hey, I was in Mexico, after all. Surely, that in itself was cause for a margarita celebration.

It was a beautiful day. The sun was shining brightly, and the air carried the scent of the saltwater. It was the perfect temperature for the pair of shorts and tee shirt I had changed into. I found the beach in no time, along with an outdoor bar, and settled at a table under a colorful umbrella that overlooked the ocean. After ordering chips, salsa, and a strawberry margarita, I relaxed into my chair, listening to the gentle rhythm of the waves splashing against the shore as I breathed in the salty air.

Surprisingly, the beach wasn’t as crowded as I’d expected. There were a handful of people in swimsuits sprawled out on towels and another handful swimming. The bar itself was also mostly empty—a middle-aged couple sat at a table across from me, empty dishes in front of them, and a group of tourists, who looked about my age, were clustered around the bar. A single man, wearing a large hat and sunglasses, was nursing a beer in the corner.

Maybe it was just timing—it was late afternoon, and people were probably getting ready for dinner. Once I finished my drink, I was planning on doing the same. The long shuttle ride and even longer plane ride had taken a lot out of me. An early night sounded perfect, and then I would be rested, refreshed, and ready to spend the next day sightseeing.

The waiter deposited the chips and margarita in front of me. I took a sip and munched on a few chips, feeling both excited that I was finally in Mexico (a place I had always wanted to visit) and a little bummed about being alone. In retrospect, I wondered if I should have just canceled when Pat got sick. Of course, that would have meant losing the trip altogether. Or maybe I should have asked someone else to come … though I wasn’t sure I knew anyone who could have dropped everything to vacation in Mexico for six days. An image of Wyle flickered through my head, but I quashed it down. First off, the chances of him getting the time off from the police department with such a lack of notice was highly unlikely. And second, I had no business going on a trip with him. Our relationship was complicated enough without spending nearly a week in Cabo together.

Still … I was starting to wish I had at least asked.

Further down the beach, I noticed a couple walking along the shoreline. The woman’s long, blonde hair was blowing wildly in the breeze. She wore a tiny red bikini with a white, see-through coverup paired with oversized sunglasses and a huge tote bag. The man next to her was tall and swarthy, with dark hair and a barrel chest. He wore a green button-down shirt that hung open, revealing a chest full of black hair, and a pair of dark-green shorts. His head was turned toward the woman, and they appeared to be in deep conversation.

I watched them, feeling a pang of loneliness. Whatever they were talking about was intense. It had been so long since I had that sort of relationship with someone, I had almost forgotten what it felt like. Or maybe that was just the margarita talking. I gave my drink the side-eye, but it seemed nonplussed. For someone who rarely drank, maybe having a margarita before dinner was a bad idea after all.

Suddenly, the man’s arm snaked out, and he pushed the woman. She stumbled, nearly falling into the waves lapping against her feet. He shoved her again and advanced on her, looking like he was shouting. She cowered as the waves splashed against her tanned calves, her hands instinctively shielding her face.

I was on my feet and running toward them before I was even aware of what I was doing. Of course, the sand was soft and nearly impossible to run in; plus, I almost immediately lost both of my flip-flops. Regardless, I forced my legs to pump faster. The sunbathing tourists I passed were staring at me with mouths hanging open, but I paid them no mind.

“Stop that!” I yelled, but neither the man nor the woman even glanced in my direction. I pushed myself harder. I had pulled my hair back into a ponytail, but some of the tendrils had worked their way out and were now blowing across my face.

“Leave her alone,” I yelled again, and finally, the man turned toward me. His arm was up, his fist cocked, as if he had been about to punch the woman, and he snarled when he saw me coming.

“Go away. This is none of your business,” he snapped. He had an accent, but I had no trouble understanding him.

“You shouldn’t be hitting a woman,” I gasped as I approached them, slowing my pace. The woman was still cowering as she stood in the water, but I could feel her eyes peeking at me, nearly hidden behind a veil of hair.

He bared his teeth. “This has nothing to do with you. Walk away.”

I planted my feet in the sand and crossed my arms across my chest. He was right—it definitely wasn’t my business. But that didn’t matter. I could remember only too well the fear a woman felt when someone she thought she loved raised a fist at her. “Only if you promise not to hit her.”

He narrowed his eyes as he glared at me. The saying, “If looks could kill,” floated through my head, but I stood my ground. He certainly wouldn’t hurt me, a stranger and tourist, right?

He took a menacing step toward me, his fist still raised, and for a moment, I felt a rush of panic. Was he seriously going to attack me? On a public beach?

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Chapter 1

“My husband is missing. Can you find him?”

I straightened up, pressing the phone tighter against my ear. The voice was frail and thin, and I wondered if I had heard her correctly. “Did you say your husband is missing?”

“Yes. I need help finding him. Can you do that?”

“Is this an emergency? Have you tried calling the police?”

“Oh, the police,” the voice scoffed. “They can’t do anything.”

That probably meant it wasn’t an emergency, which also indicated her husband had either left on his own accord, or something else had happened to him—something unrelated to foul play. It wasn’t against the law for an adult to disappear, so unless there was evidence that he had been taken against his will, the police likely wouldn’t get involved. I suspected most of the time, in most other places, there wasn’t much in the way of a “something else” option … but this was Redemption, Wisconsin, after all. Here, disappearances were far higher than the national average.

I reached for a pen and yellow pad of paper. “When was the last time you saw him?”

There was a pause. “Well, it’s been years since I’ve seen him.”

My pen hovered over the pad. “Years?”

“Oooh, I think Emily has a new client on the phone,” Aunt Tilde said, elbowing Mildred. They had been fiddling with the coffee maker all morning, but I was unclear as to whether there was actually a problem with the equipment, or if they were just too busy talking to make any coffee. I waved at her to be quiet.

“Well, my eyes, you know. They’re not what they used to be.” She sounded apologetic, and I immediately felt bad. This poor woman probably had cataracts, or had maybe even gone blind, and my first thought was that her husband had been missing for a decade, and she was only now getting around to calling someone about it. “But I know he was here two days ago.”

“So he’s been missing for two days?”

“I think so.” There was a hitch in her voice. “I’m worried about him.”

“Of course you are, Mrs. …”

“It’s Jonasburg, but you can call me Ruth.”

I wrote her name down on the yellow pad. “Ruth, then. Can you tell me a little bit about the circumstances surrounding his disappearance? Maybe start with before he left …”

I could hear her swallow. “That’s just it. We had a … well, maybe not a fight, but definitely a disagreement, and … oh … I don’t know what I’ll do, if that really was my last interaction with him.”

“Let’s not think about that now,” I said quickly. “Why don’t we set up a time to discuss your situation in more detail? Would you be able to come to the office?”

“Oh dear, I’m really not good with driving anymore. Do you think you could come to the house?”

“Sure,” I said, quickly jotting down her address as she rattled it off. We agreed to meet later that afternoon, and I hung up the phone.

Both Mildred and Aunt Tilde were watching me closely. “So, tell us about our new client,” Aunt Tilde said excitedly.

A nurse who got bored during her retirement and decided it would be fun to open a detective agency with absolutely zero training or experience, Aunt Tilde definitely danced to the beat of her own drum. Today, she was dressed in bright pinks and purples, which didn’t clash as much as you might think with her bright-orange hair and matching glasses.

“It’s about time we got one,” Mildred chimed in, giving me a stern look over her glasses, as though our lack of clients was somehow my fault. Mildred was a retired teacher who jumped at the chance to join her old friend in her newest venture. She dressed far more conservatively than my aunt, though, in pressed pantsuits. She also had her hair done twice a week and wore a little too much perfume. Today, she was dressed in a pale-green pantsuit accented by a single strand of pearls.

“She’s not an official client yet,” I said. “She wants to see if we can help her find her husband.”

Mildred perked up. “Another cheating husband case. Hopefully, we can redeem ourselves with this one.”

“Her husband is missing,” I said. “That doesn’t mean he’s cheating.”

Mildred waved her hand. “Of course it does. What other explanation would there be?”

“We shouldn’t assume he’s cheating,” Aunt Tilde said. “That’s why we investigate.”

Mildred raised a nicely shaped eyebrow. “Okay, why do you think he’s missing, then?”

Aunt Tilde shrugged. “Maybe he got lost.”

“What, like he went to the store for cigarettes and never came home?”

“It’s possible,” Aunt Tilde insisted before letting out a sigh and relenting. “Okay, you’re probably right. He’s cheating on her.”

“Maybe we should hear the entire story before we make assumptions,” I suggested.

“I agree. We should get all the details, so we can catch him in the act,” Mildred said before flattening her lips, which were covered in bright-pink lipstick, in disapproval. “We don’t want to screw it up this time.”

“I don’t think this case is going to be like Jan’s,” I said.

“How do you know?” Mildred asked.

“Well, for one, we’re looking for a missing husband, not for proof that her husband is cheating on her,” I said.

Mildred waved her hand again. “I told you … same thing.”

Great. At this rate, I was going to have to find some excuse to keep Mildred from attending the initial meeting. I could already picture her browbeating poor Ruth and insisting her husband had run off with the grocery clerk.

“When is the meeting?” Aunt Tilde asked, as if reading my mind.

Ugh. “This afternoon.” I gave Mildred a hard look. “If you come, you can’t tell her that her husband is cheating on her. She’s very upset. They had a fight before he disappeared.”

Mildred looked miffed. “Emily, of course I wouldn’t say it. You know me better than that.”

Yes, yes, I do know you, and that’s why I’m telling you not to. I bit down on my tongue to keep the words from coming out and forced a smile instead. “I just wanted you to know what I know before the meeting. That way, we’re all on the same page.”

“Good, we should be,” Mildred said briskly. “When the time is right, we can tell her the truth about her husband. Not a minute before.”

I sighed.

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Chapter 1

“This is the most absurd thing I have ever done,” I muttered to myself as I clomped up the stairs to the tidy blue and white ranch house. “And believe me, I know a lot about absurd things. Actually, probably too much.”

It had only been a few weeks since I’d moved to Redemption, Wisconsin, to live with my Aunt Tilde and help her get her new business, The Redemption Detective Agency, off the ground. Never mind that my aunt was a retired nurse who knew absolutely nothing about solving cases. Nor did any of the other so-called “detectives” who also worked at the agency—Mildred, the retired schoolteacher, and Nora, the owner of a used bookstore in the same strip mall. Not to mention that none of them had any knowledge about running a business (including Nora, surprisingly enough, who technically DID own a business and really ought to know better).

But when you lose everything (and by “everything,” I mean your job, your apartment, your car, your fiancé, AND your money), sometimes you find yourself doing completely unexpected things.

Like moving in with your aunt at thirty-one years old.

And searching for a dog that’s been missing for over a year.

“A missing dog. Seriously?” I continued my muttering as I made way across the carefully swept stoop to the dark-blue font door. Colorful pots filled with red, purple, and pink geraniums and a cheery pink and purple “Welcome” mat decorated the entrance.  “Are these the types of cases The Redemption Detective Agency really wants to focus on?”

As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I wanted to drag them back in. I had a dreadful feeling that no, a missing dog would actually not be the most absurd case we would take on.

Likely not by a long shot.

How did this ever become my life? Just a few weeks before, I had a high-level job managing one of the top brokerage and investment firms in the state of Wisconsin. I was more or less running the place.

And now? I basically spent my days metaphorically herding cats while trying to manage what was supposed to be a business. Except it wasn’t really a business. A business makes money, and that seemed to be the last thing anyone at The Redemption Detective Agency was interested in.

 Which was how I found myself standing on a stranger’s front stoop getting ready to open an investigation into a case involving a missing dog.

The dog’s owner happened to be Trisha’s aunt, and Trisha was our agency’s attorney, Nick’s, girlfriend. At least I assumed that was his official title, even though he wasn’t getting paid. Not that it was any of my business. Nor was his relationship status. He was free to date whoever he pleased.

On second thought, maybe it should have been my business. Well, not the dating part. I didn’t care about that … at all. Especially since I actually had my own someone to date. Jerome. In fact, I had a date with him that very night. So whatever Nick’s relationship with Trisha was really didn’t matter to me.

No, I was thinking about the money part—or, more specifically, the lack of money part. The more I contemplated it, the more I began to think that was probably the main reason Aunt Tilde wanted us to take the case. She probably thought helping out Nick’s girlfriend’s aunt would be a nice gesture … a way to pay him back for his time and energy, so to speak. Of course, she had given me a totally different reason.

“Think of the PR,” she said as she straightened her orange-rimmed glasses, which perfectly matched her bright-orange hair. Neither matched her neon-orange blouse, though, which she had paired with a dark-green shawl to combat the temperature, thanks to the air conditioner being on the fritz and running way too cold. “Everyone loves a good dog story … especially one with a happy ending.”

“What if it isn’t a happy ending?” I asked sourly. Not that I wanted anything to happen to the dog, mind you. I truly hoped he was alive and well and living his best life in someone else’s backyard. But the unfortunate reality was that tracking down a dog that’s been missing for a year was highly unlikely. I also didn’t particularly want anything to do with Trisha, her aunt, or her aunt’s pet, but that was beside the point.

Aunt Tilde’s eyes widened, and she put both her hands over Scout’s ears. “Hush, don’t say that so loud. You don’t want to give him nightmares.”

I rolled my eyes. Scout was my yellow lab mix, and even if he hadn’t been currently sleeping on his pillow, I suspected my comment wouldn’t have phased him. Despite her worry about his mental health, he seemed relatively unconcerned about the conversation. “I’m serious.”

Aunt Tilde gave me a disapproving look. “So am I. You know about his past. There’s no reason to remind him of it.”

Scout was a stray who had been hanging out in my aunt’s backyard until I took him in. “Oh, for Pete’s sake. This isn’t about Scout. It’s about reality. You know as well as I do how difficult it is to find a lost dog after a few days, much less a year.”

Aunt Tilde shook her head as she gave Scout an ear rub. He opened his eyes, lifted his head, and licked her face in return.  “We can at least try. That’s why our motto is ‘Solving the unsolvable.’”

I winced, which is what I pretty much always did when I was reminded of our very unfortunate slogan. I was convinced it was a lawsuit waiting to happen. Aunt Tilde told me I was overthinking things again, and besides, if we DID solve the unsolvable, it would be a perfectly true claim.

Needless to say, that explanation didn’t keep me from “overthinking.”

“Just go talk to her,” Aunt Tilde said before I could argue any more. “If you think it’s really a lost cause, then fine. We can at least say we tried. But maybe you’ll discover a clue she missed, and that clue will lead to us finding her dog.”

That seemed completely preposterous for a whole bunch of reasons, but I could already tell by Aunt Tilde’s set expression that anything I said would fall on deaf ears. Better for me to just agree and get it over with, as Aunt Tilde wasn’t going to take “no” for an answer.

I just hoped my fear would prove unfounded, and it wouldn’t be the total disaster I anxiously anticipated.

Regardless, I needed to do something other than stand there on her front porch fretting about all the ways the situation could go south. I took a deep breath of warm, geranium-scented summer air, squared my shoulders, and stepped toward the door. Might as well get it over with.

The neighborhood was eerily quiet, the sounds of cars, lawnmowers, even a child playing were completely non-existent. I wondered if the silence inside the house meant no one was home, and I couldn’t decide if that would be good or bad. Good that I wouldn’t have to have what I was sure would be a ridiculous conversation, but bad because it would mean I’d likely have to return and do the whole visit all over again. Ugh.

Well, enough stalling. I raised my hand and knocked briskly on the door.

Immediately, I was greeted with the sound of a dog yapping and toenails clicking across a tile floor. I frowned and took a step back, wondering if, after all my angst, I was at the wrong house. But before I could double-check the address, the door swung open.

“Can I help you?”

The woman standing in front of me looked like an older, flatter, less attractive version of Trisha. While Trisha was drop-dead gorgeous, with long, black, curly hair that reached halfway down her back, dark-blue eyes, and porcelain skin, this woman’s wrinkles made her look tired, and her black-turning-silver hair was much shorter. Her dark-blue eyes, however, looked exactly the same as Trisha’s. In her arms was a small, wriggling, snow-white dog who was trying very hard to free itself … probably so he could bite me. I’d never had much luck with other people’s pets, or animals in general. Even the nicest ones, the ones whose owners swore would never hurt a fly, wanted to attack me. I found it was easier for everyone if I simply kept my distance.

Scout, of course, was the exception.

“Um.” I eyed the dog, who I swore was staring at me like he knew how tasty I would be. In my experience, the smaller the dog, the more bloodthirsty they were. “Are you …” I suddenly realized I didn’t know the woman’s name. Only that she was Trisha’s aunt. Trisha had jotted down the address on the back of an electric bill and handed it to Aunt Tilde, and neither of them thought to add her aunt’s name. Although I was hardly blameless, as it didn’t occur to me to ask, either. Mentally, I kicked myself. What was I thinking? “Do you have a niece named Trisha?” I also realized I had no idea what Trisha’s last name was. Why did I ever think I could be a detective? And, for that matter, what kind of detective agency sent its detectives out without providing the client’s name?

I knew what kind—the kind that would end up getting sued over their ridiculous slogan, “Solving the unsolvable.”

Ugh.

“I do.” Her eyes widened. “Oh no. Did something happen to her?”

Oh geez. “No, no. I mean, she’s fine,” I quickly amended when I saw the look of horror spreading across her face.  Man, this was not going well. “I’m here because she told me about your dog.”

She looked surprised. “My dog? You mean little Rocky here?” She gently shook the dog, who seemed desperate to get down. I took a careful step back, wanting to be out of range of those little sharp teeth. “Are you thinking about getting a Maltese as well?”

“Ah, no. Your other dog.”

Her face jerked up. “Other dog?”

It was like a door had slammed shut. Her entire manner instantly shifted. Her face went from cautiously friendly to completely shuttered. “Your other dog. The one who disappeared a year ago. She was wondering if we could … um …” I swallowed hard. “Maybe help look for him for you?” I sounded even more ridiculous than I had imagined, and her staring at me so warily wasn’t helping.

If anything, her expression became even more stony. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I didn’t have a dog a year ago.”

I blinked. Of all the ways I had imagined this conversation going, this was not one of them. “Um, but Trisha …”

“Trisha is wrong,” she interrupted, her voice brusque. “This little guy is my dog. My only dog.”

“Okay,” I said, confused. I was starting to feel like I had stumbled into some sort of forbidden conversation topic, which made zero sense to me. I was asking about a missing dog. Why would that be so bad? “But why would Trisha think you had another dog?”

“Oh, who knows with Trisha,” she snapped. Rocky, sensing the shift in her mood, stopped trying to wiggle away so he could attack me and instead started licking her face. It seemed to work, because her voice softened. “Oh, you’re a good boy.“ She straightened up and started to step back into the house. “She probably got confused. Rocky did run away from me a few weeks ago. Scared me to death. The backyard gate was open, and I didn’t realize it. It took me a couple hours to find him, but he was fine. As you can see. Anyway, it was nice meeting you …”

“Emily,” I said. “And you’re …”

She didn’t take the hint. Instead, she forced a smile on her face. “Emily. It’s nice, Trisha having such good friends. Not everyone would help out someone’s old aunt with a lost dog. But as you can see, everything is fine. Rocky is doing great.” She gave him a big kiss as she backed into the house. “Thanks again for stopping by.”

“Um, wait,” I tried to say, but she was already closing the door, leaving me standing outside on her tidy stoop, surrounded by cheery geraniums and wondering what exactly had just happened.

Want to keep reading? Grab the book here.

Ah, there’s no better way to enjoy those lazy summer days than with a good book, so let’s have a giveaway.

Enter to win your choice of a $15 gift card to my store OR a $10 gift card to the retailer of your choice (Amazon/Barnes and Noble/Apple/Kobo/Google Play).

Good luck!

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June Monthly Giveaway
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April showers leads to May flowers, so let’s do a giveaway to celebrate spring.

Enter to win your choice of a $15 gift card to my store OR a $10 gift card to the retailer of your choice (Amazon/Barnes and Noble/Apple/Kobo/Google Play).

Good luck!

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May Monthly Giveaway! Win up to a $15 Gift Card. Each month there's a new giveaway on the MPW blog so come check it out!
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What do you get when you mix thrilling whodunits with dream-worthy vacation destinations?

A collection of irresistible travel-themed stories from experienced mystery authors who deliver intrigue with a twist of wanderlust in their crime fiction.

From the frosty highlands of Scotland to the sun-soaked beaches of Hawaii, these holiday books for adults transport you to places where danger lurks just out of sight, and the perfect alibi hides behind a postcard-worthy view.

Whether you’re a reader of cozy mystery books filled with charming local settings or crave edge-of-your-seat suspense thrills to make your heart race, this holiday anthology has something for every mystery fan. Each vacation novella blends captivating plots with exotic backdrops to create the ultimate escape.

Get ready to unravel secrets in a snowy castle, uncover clues on a tropical shore, and experience suspense in a bustling city.
This mystery anthology guarantees intrigue, surprises, and unforgettable settings. It’s the perfect book to curl up by the fire, lounge poolside, or indulge in a little escapism on your next road trip.

You won’t want to miss your ticket to this mystery-filled adventure!

Read on to discover the lineup of authors and their thrilling holiday-themed tales.

 

Michele Pariza Wacek : Margaritas and Murder

Murder in paradise! Charlie Kingsley escapes Wisconsin’s winter chill for sunny Cabo, Mexico, hoping for sandy beaches and endless margaritas. But her vacation takes a deadly turn when she stumbles upon a body on the beach, and worse, becomes the prime suspect! Now Charlie must swap her flip-flops for detective shoes to clear her name and catch the killer before her getaway turns into a stay behind bars. Perfect for readers of tropical cozy mysteries, beach vacation whodunits, and amateur sleuth adventures.

 

Patti Larsen: Plot Todd-EE

A relaxing river glamping trip turns deadly when Becks Hogan and her police chief bestie find themselves stranded in rural Flori—with a murdered raft pilot and no way to call for help. As the current drags them deeper into danger, survival becomes their top priority… but can they solve the mystery before they’re swept away? With a killer on board and hungry alligators circling, time is running out!

 

Carolyn L Dean: Leis, Lies & Lethal Force

A Hawaiian cozy mystery packed with murder, mystery, and mayhem! When Amanda’s solo getaway turns deadly, she’s thrust into a chilling investigation at her luxury resort. With her reluctant sister-in-law in tow, Amanda uncovers secrets, deception, and danger lurking behind every palm tree. Can she crack the case before her vacation becomes her final destination? Perfect for fans of tropical cozy mysteries and beach resort whodunits.

 

Carly Winter: Whodunit at the Winery

A wine country cozy mystery full of twists! When a winery tour turns deadly, amateur sleuth Samantha Rathbone and her boyfriend become prime suspects. With the sheriff on their trail, they must uncork the truth before they’re framed for murder. Perfect for fans of cozy mysteries, wine-themed whodunits, and small-town secrets!

 

Kitty Kildare: Death at the Thistle Inn

After a friend’s wedding promised an exhilarating Scottish escape, plucky sleuth Veronica Vale sees her holiday plans shatter when a baffling locked-room murder mystery erupts, unleashing hidden motives, secret alliances, and dangerous twists in this riveting 1920s British mystery.

 

Jayna Morrow: Aspic and Old Lace

In the charming small town of Marshall, Texas, museum curator Liz Fletcher is ready for a Victorian Christmas festival—not a murder mystery. But when a fellow historical society member collapses on the runway during the fashion show, Liz is drawn into a twisty whodunit full of secrets, suspects, and red herrings.

Liz can’t resist following the clues, especially when a cryptic riddle hints at a deadly secret from the victim’s past. Will she solve the case and have time to enjoy her Christmas vacation?

 

Mona Marple: The Midnight Flowerpot Fiasco

A charming Yorkshire Coast cozy mystery. Holly and Nick’s peaceful getaway turns deadly when a famous artist falls from the cliffs. Accident or murder? With nosy locals, a seaside bookshop, and a lovable pub dog named Stout, Holly races to uncover the truth before their vacation ends in disaster. Ideal for readers of British cozy mysteries and seaside whodunits.

 

Wendy Neugent: Port of No Return

When Key West antiques dealer Beth Fletcher sets sail on a Caribbean cruise, she expects sun and shopping, not a shocking murder linked to a rare bottle of port. Teaming up with ship entertainer Olivia Morgan (and her mischievous parrot sidekick), Beth dives into a deadly mystery tangled with bootlegger secrets and modern motives. Can this sleuthing duo crack the case before the killer strikes again? Packed with tropical twists, high-stakes clues, and cozy mystery charm, this cruise ship whodunit is a voyage you won’t forget.

 

Laina Turner: Betrayed in Belize

Trixie Pristine’s dream vacation to Belize takes a deadly turn when a fellow traveler is found murdered. With danger lurking around every corner and a chilling warning to stop investigating, Trixie teams up with her butler, Javier, to uncover the truth. As suspects pile up and secrets unravel, Trixie must race against time to solve the crime before her tropical getaway becomes her final destination. A suspense-filled cozy mystery packed with twists, danger, and a dash of tropical charm.

What do you get when you mix thrilling whodunits with dream-worthy vacation destinations?

A collection of irresistible travel-themed stories from experienced mystery authors who deliver intrigue with a twist of wanderlust in their crime fiction.

From the frosty highlands of Scotland to the sun-soaked beaches of Hawaii, these holiday books for adults transport you to places where danger lurks just out of sight, and the perfect alibi hides behind a postcard-worthy view.

Whether you’re a reader of cozy mystery books filled with charming local settings or crave edge-of-your-seat suspense thrills to make your heart race, this holiday anthology has something for every mystery fan. Each vacation novella blends captivating plots with exotic backdrops to create the ultimate escape.

Get ready to unravel secrets in a snowy castle, uncover clues on a tropical shore, and experience suspense in a bustling city.
This mystery anthology guarantees intrigue, surprises, and unforgettable settings. It’s the perfect book to curl up by the fire, lounge poolside, or indulge in a little escapism on your next road trip.

You won’t want to miss your ticket to this mystery-filled adventure!

Read on to discover the lineup of authors and their thrilling holiday-themed tales.

Michele Pariza Wacek: Margaritas and Murder

Murder in paradise! Charlie Kingsley escapes Wisconsin’s winter chill for sunny Cabo, Mexico, hoping for sandy beaches and endless margaritas. But her vacation takes a deadly turn when she stumbles upon a body on the beach, and worse, becomes the prime suspect! Now Charlie must swap her flip-flops for detective shoes to clear her name and catch the killer before her getaway turns into a stay behind bars. Perfect for readers of tropical cozy mysteries, beach vacation whodunits, and amateur sleuth adventures.

 

Patti Larsen: Plot Todd-EE

A relaxing river glamping trip turns deadly when Becks Hogan and her police chief bestie find themselves stranded in rural Flori—with a murdered raft pilot and no way to call for help. As the current drags them deeper into danger, survival becomes their top priority… but can they solve the mystery before they’re swept away? With a killer on board and hungry alligators circling, time is running out!

 

Carolyn L Dean: Leis, Lies & Lethal Force

A Hawaiian cozy mystery packed with murder, mystery, and mayhem! When Amanda’s solo getaway turns deadly, she’s thrust into a chilling investigation at her luxury resort. With her reluctant sister-in-law in tow, Amanda uncovers secrets, deception, and danger lurking behind every palm tree. Can she crack the case before her vacation becomes her final destination? Perfect for fans of tropical cozy mysteries and beach resort whodunits.

Joann Keder: Cursed Cousins

A Norwegian wedding, a long-buried family secret, and a tangled mystery. Sunshine’s latest adventure is about to turn the celebration into a race against time! As the bride prepares to toss the bouquet, Sunshine must unravel a web of secrets that could shatter everything. Will she uncover the truth before the final vows?

 

Carly Winter: Whodunit at the Winery

When Key West antiques dealer Beth Fletcher sets sail on a Caribbean cruise, she expects sun and shopping, not a shocking murder linked to a rare bottle of port. Teaming up with ship entertainer Olivia Morgan (and her mischievous parrot sidekick), Beth dives into a deadly mystery tangled with bootlegger secrets and modern motives. Can this sleuthing duo crack the case before the killer strikes again? Packed with tropical twists, high-stakes clues, and cozy mystery charm, this cruise ship whodunit is a voyage you won’t forget.

 

Kitty Kildare: Death at the Thistle Inn

After a friend’s wedding promised an exhilarating Scottish escape, plucky sleuth Veronica Vale sees her holiday plans shatter when a baffling locked-room murder mystery erupts, unleashing hidden motives, secret alliances, and dangerous twists in this riveting 1920s British mystery.

 

Jayna Morrow: Aspic and Old Lace

In the charming small town of Marshall, Texas, museum curator Liz Fletcher is ready for a Victorian Christmas festival—not a murder mystery. But when a fellow historical society member collapses on the runway during the fashion show, Liz is drawn into a twisty whodunit full of secrets, suspects, and red herrings.

Liz can’t resist following the clues, especially when a cryptic riddle hints at a deadly secret from the victim’s past. Will she solve the case and have time to enjoy her Christmas vacation?

 

B.G. Wood: Witchnapped

A Portland cozy mystery full of magic, mystery, and murder! When witch-lit author Morgan Mallory vanishes, amateur sleuth Gina Biletti dives into a world of secret societies, occult art, and bookish clues. Can Gina solve the spellbinding mystery before she’s the next victim? Readers of paranormal cozy mysteries and bookshop whodunits will adore this cozy adventure.

 

Mona Marple: The Midnight Flowerpot Fiasco

A charming Yorkshire Coast cozy mystery. Holly and Nick’s peaceful getaway turns deadly when a famous artist falls from the cliffs. Accident or murder? With nosy locals, a seaside bookshop, and a lovable pub dog named Stout, Holly races to uncover the truth before their vacation ends in disaster. Ideal for readers of British cozy mysteries and seaside whodunits.

 

Wendy Neugent: Port of No Return

A wine country cozy mystery full of twists! When a winery tour turns deadly, amateur sleuth Samantha Rathbone and her boyfriend become prime suspects. With the sheriff on their trail, they must uncork the truth before they’re framed for murder. Perfect for fans of cozy mysteries, wine-themed whodunits, and small-town secrets!

 

Laina Turner: Betrayed in Belize

Trixie Pristine’s dream vacation to Belize takes a deadly turn when a fellow traveler is found murdered. With danger lurking around every corner and a chilling warning to stop investigating, Trixie teams up with her butler, Javier, to uncover the truth. As suspects pile up and secrets unravel, Trixie must race against time to solve the crime before her tropical getaway becomes her final destination. A suspense-filled cozy mystery packed with twists, danger, and a dash of tropical charm.

Grab your copy here.