PRAISE FOR

  “Murder Strikes a Chord hits all the right notes in this new cozy mystery by Heather Weidner.”

  — Jackie Layton, Author of the Texas Flower Farmer Cozy Mysteries and the Low Country Dog Walker Mysteries

  “Ivy Springs is a fabulous setting for a cozy, full of quaint little shops and unique characters. Former social media manager Cassidy is the perfect modern-day Miss Marple, using her computer skills to hunt down the rock star's killer. Between Cassidy’s smarts and the Pearly Girls fun, Murder Strikes a Chord is a winner all around.”

  —Sue Minix, Author of the Bookstore Mystery Series

  “Cassidy Jamison’s Groovin’ Through the Decades concert series is heading for success when the popular if aging rock band, the Weathermen, give their first performance. That is, until the lead singer ends up face down in the koi pond. With the help of the four sixty-something Pearly Girls and her spunky chihuahua Elvis, Cassidy sets out to find the murderer and put things right. A fun, fast-paced, and heartwarming start to Heather Weidner’s latest series.”

  — Marilyn Levinson, a.k.a. Allison Brook, author of the Haunted Library Series

  “Murder Strikes a Chord is a fun read with curves and twists. Add to that the hilarious antics of the Pearly Girls and you’ve got a great book you won’t want to put down!”

  — Ruth J. Hartman, Bestselling Author of The Kitty Beret Café Mysteries

  ALSO BY HEATHER WEIDNER

  The Jules Keene Glamping Mysteries

  Vintage Trailers and Blackmailers

  Film Crews and Rendezvous

  Christmas Lights and Cat Fights

  Deadlines and Valentines

  The Mermaid Bay Christmas Shoppe Mysteries

  Sticks and Stones and a Bag of Bones

  Twinkle, Twinkle Au Revoir

  A Tisket a Tasket, Not Another Casket

  The Delanie Fitzgerald Mysteries

  Secret Lives and Private Eyes

  The Tulip Shirt Murders

  Glitter, Glam, and Contraband

  Male Revues and Subterfuge

  KEYLIGHT BOOKS

  AN IMPRINT OF TURNER PUBLISHING COMPANY

  Nashville, Tennessee

  www.turnerpublishing.com

  Murder Strikes a Chord

  Copyright © 2025 by Heather Weidner. All rights reserved.

  This book or any part thereof may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  This is a work of fiction. All the characters and events portrayed in this book are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  Cover design by Kent Holloway

  Book design by William Ruoto

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Names: Weidner, Heather, author.

  Title: Murder strikes a chord / by Heather Weidner.

  Description: Nashville, Tennessee: Turner Publishing Company, 2025. | Series: Pearly Girls mysteries

  Identifiers: LCCN 2024017525 (print) | LCCN 2024017526 (ebook) | ISBN 9781684426508 (paperback) | ISBN 9781684426560 (hardcover) | ISBN 9781684426591 (epub)

  Subjects: LCGFT: Cozy mysteries. | Novels.

  Classification: LCC PS3623.E4257 M87 2025 (print) | LCC PS3623.E4257 (ebook) | DDC 813/.6—dc23/eng/20240419

  LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2024017525LC

  LC ebook record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2024017526

  Printed in the United States of America

  THURSDAY AFTERNOON

  Cassidy Jamison glanced up from her laptop in the shared office space in the converted farmhouse on her property, Celebrations at Ivy Springs. Her sexagenarian bookkeeper, Ruthanne Carmichael, made a mad dash from her desk to the front window.

  “They’re here. They’re here!” Ruthanne squealed in an octave so high it made Elvis, the brown and tan Chihuahua mix, scamper to the front room to see what all the excitement was about. Between Ruthanne’s squeals and Elvis’s barks, Cassidy couldn’t tell what was going on. She slid on her shoes and tried to get a glimpse out the window behind Ruthanne, who continued to bob, point, and squeal.

  Three large black and gray tour buses passed through the front gate and rolled to a stop near the porch. Gently nudging Elvis away from the door, Cassidy smoothed her long red curls and stepped through the door, pulling it shut behind her.

  A rotund man resembling a professional wrestler stepped off the first bus, followed by a thinner guy with stylized salt-and-pepper hair. He pulled out a pair of expensive-looking sunglasses and slid them on before moving toward the porch.

  “Good morning.” Cassidy shielded her eyes from the sun peeking over the mountains. “Welcome to Celebrations at Ivy Springs and the Groovin’ through the Decades music festival. We’re excited you’re here. This is going to be an amazing week.”

  After a few seconds, Sunglasses said, “Good morning. I’m Beau Cox, manager of the Weathermen. We’re here and ready to headline the festival.” He paused and glanced around like he hadn’t been outside before. “Where exactly are we, besides in the mountains?”

  “Ivy Springs, Virginia. We’re near Staunton and Harrisonburg.” When he showed no signs of recognition, she continued, “It’s in Virginia. On the East Coast.” When he still didn’t respond, she changed course. “You all are going to set up between the grotto and the amphitheater, out of the way of the crowds, so you and the band won’t be disturbed during your downtime. We have camper hookups. You should be all set. My facilities guy will meet you there and answer any questions.” She turned to address the other man, presuming him to be the bus driver. “Follow this road around the bend, past the parking lots, then bear to the left. The turnoff is a gravel road through the trees to a meadow where you can park. If you get to a wooden barricade, you’ve gone too far.”

  The bus driver nodded. “Got it.”

  “Thanks.” Beau peeked over his sunglasses. “Once we get settled, I’ll swing by your office to go over details, and you can tell me what else is around here besides trees.”

  She pulled out her phone and tapped on a contact. After three rings, she heard, “Hey, lady. What’s up?” Levi Jenkins, who had been the handyman and groundskeeper for as long as Cassidy could remember, sounded like he was outside with an engine running.

  “Hey. The three buses with the band and their equipment are here. Can you meet them at the little meadow to show them the hookups and get them settled? I’m sure they’ll have questions.”

  “I’m on it. Tell ’em I’m heading over there now.” Levi’s words were nearly drowned out by the idling of the engine.

  Cassidy muttered “Thanks” to an already dead line. She turned back to the driver and Beau. “Levi Jenkins will meet you there. Please let us know if we can help in any way. You can’t miss him. He’s tall and thin, and he always wears a baseball cap.”

  “Will do.” Beau saluted with two fingers and climbed back on the bus.

  Cassidy watched the buses inch slowly along the maintenance road and disappear around the bend. Before she had even closed the office door, Ruthanne and Elvis ambushed her. Ruthanne wanted details. Elvis wanted hugs. Gathering the wiggly dog in her arms, she nuzzled the soft fur on his neck.

  “Did you see him? Did you get to talk to him? Is he still as dreamy as he used to be? He can still make my heart pitter-patter. Oh, my stars, I can’t believe they’re actually here. What’s Johnny Storm like? What are they all like?” Ruthanne gushed. “Pinch me. I can’t believe this is all real.”

  Surprised that the sixty-something—who was usually the austere one of the group—was this excited about the music festival they were hosting on the property for the next couple of weekends, Cassidy set Elvis down before answering the myriad questions. “No. Just the manager and a bus driver. Levi’s meeting them in the space by the serenity garden to set up. I didn’t get to meet the band yet.”

  “I may have to get my steps in this afternoon with a walk around the grounds.” Ruthanne took one last peek out the front window then glanced at her wedged sandals. “These may not be the best shoes for a walk, but I’ll take my chances if I get to accidentally bump into the Weathermen.” She winked.

  “The manager will be over in a bit to talk details. Maybe we can work out some sort of meet and greet.” Cassidy winked in return.

  “That would be amazing!” The color rose in Ruthanne’s cheeks, and she made a beeline for her desk. “I need to finish payroll and the sales tax. This festival is going to be so much fun. Don’t get me wrong,” she said as she fanned herself with a manila file folder from her desk. “Weddings and receptions are wonderful, but this music festival is going to be the bomb. I have been a fan of Johnny Storm and the Weathermen since the seventies. Hubba-hubba. And he still has that rockin’ bod and amazing deep voice. Not bad for a bunch of, well, let’s say, seasoned guys.” She did a shimmy in the chair while letting out another squeal.

  An amused smile crept across Cassidy’s face as she settled at her desk to check on her business’s website. The Groovin’ through the Decades festival was a coup for her small business in the heart of Virginia’s Blue Ridge Mountains. She had been working long hours to keep her event calendar full. A multi-week festival was a phenomenal booking.

  Life as a business owner was harder than her previous role after college. She left her frenetic position as a social m
edia manager in Washington, DC, to move back to her rural hometown, Ivy Springs. Cassidy hadn’t lived here since high school, and the culture shock of coming back to this small town was an adjustment. It was most definitely a change of pace—like going from eighty miles an hour to twenty-five, and skipping a couple of gears. Some progress had made its way to town while she was away, but life was still much calmer than what she was accustomed to. Most everything here closed by nine o’clock, and there wasn’t any 24-7 city noise. Since she had been gone, the town had gained a winery, several cideries, some cool restaurants, and a second stoplight. But even while some things changed, others were the way they had always been. Nature provided the backdrop for everything. The mountains, trees, and wildlife replaced the noise and hurried pace of the city. Even the dialect here was a bit slower. There was definitely a drawl in the speech patterns. Even though it was only a couple of hours from the nation’s capital, it felt worlds apart.

  Cassidy had spent every waking hour trying to keep her business solvent after the world turned upside down in 2020. In addition to the global chaos that year, her grandmother—who had raised her after her parents’ sudden deaths—passed away. The business and land had been in the family for over 150 years and had reverted to her. She was the last in the family line.

  The property had originally boasted the Ivy Springs Saloon, but it burned to the ground in the early eighties. Instead of rebuilding the infamous honky-tonk, Cassidy’s grandmother had decided to create a peaceful garden near the property’s grotto and cave for weddings and special events. She turned the dairy barn into an event hall and built a huge amphitheater for meetings and concerts to showcase the beauty of the landscape.

  The slamming of the front door jarred Cassidy from her memories. She shook off the melancholic feelings and trotted after Elvis to greet the new arrivals.

  “Good morning again, Beau,” she said as she stepped into the restored farmhouse’s former parlor, which housed a cozy seating area for clients and guests. The old dining room across the hall now served as their conference room for event planning, and the back half of the first floor was the shared office, workroom, and kitchenette. The second floor had been converted into Cassidy’s apartment.

  “I think we’re all settled in. I have a list of things to do for the band, as usual. Can you catch an Uber around here?” Beau pushed his sunglasses on top of his head.

  “Yes, but it’s not like larger cities. It may take a while for them to arrive, depending on whether both drivers are on duty today.”

  Beau wrinkled his nose and looked at his phone. “Meals? Is delivery available out here?”

  Cassidy rummaged through a stack of pamphlets about local attractions and pulled out several menus. “We have quite a few eateries in town, and several also provide delivery services.” She offered him the brochures.

  “Thanks.” He pocketed them inside his blazer without looking at them. “We have security with us, but our contract said you also have it on the property. You can never have too much these days. Fans and wackadoodles get out of control sometimes. Here’s my guy’s contact. Have your team reach out to him. He’ll go over all the protocols and what the band does and doesn’t like.” He flipped two business cards in her direction.

  Taking the cards, Cassidy pasted on her best customer service smile. “We contract with Domingo Private Security. They’ll have at least two guards on the property around-the-clock during the festival. We’ve also arranged to have a police presence here to direct traffic before and after the concerts. I’ll make sure Mateo Domingo gets your information.”

  “Very good. And one last thing, Any issues with the band or staff coming and going at will? I mean, you don’t have gates or passkeys they’ll need? They’re a free-spirited bunch who don’t do a lot of advance planning.”

  “The property has fencing and cameras around the perimeters, but there’s no gate or locks preventing entry. One security guard is usually stationed at the front entrance,” she said.

  “Good. Steve Owens—you know, the concert promoter, right? He’s supposed to meet me here this afternoon to go over logistics. We’re also going to do a sound check. If he stops in, please send him over to the buses. He can’t miss us. We filled your little meadow with all our stuff. The guys are making themselves at home.” Beau flashed his megawatt smile and strode toward the door.

  When the thick door shut firmly behind him, Cassidy let out a sigh that sounded like air escaping from a balloon as Ruthanne squealed again from the back. “A real live sound check with the band. Be still my heart. I’m definitely heading over there the minute I finish here. I need to let the other gals know. This is so incredible.” She whipped out her phone and sent a flurry of texts. “There. The rest of the Pearly Girls know. They’ll be here lickety-split.” Ruthanne winked and returned to her desk.

  Cassidy smiled at the image in her head of her grandmother’s lifelong friends rushing over like teenagers to get a glimpse of the rock stars. Sometimes, their advice was a bit over-the-top, even smothering, but the baby boomers meant well. Herself a millennial, Cassidy spent most of her time bringing her business into the current century while bridging the generation gaps on a daily basis.

  LATER THURSDAY AFTERNOON

  The front door slammed again, sending Elvis into attack mode until he realized it was Roxie, Aileen, and Kate—the other three Pearly Girls—who must have dropped everything to respond to Ruthanne’s flurry of texts. As a young woman during the heyday of Camelot and the threats of the Cold War, Cassidy’s grandmother Evelyn had made some lifelong friends who now kept a watchful eye on Cassidy in her absence. All of the ladies loved the music and popular culture of the fifties, sixties, and seventies and still sported their signature pearls like Jackie O. The gang, now retired and widowed, all worked part-time in some capacity to help Cassidy keep the business solvent—and to attempt to fix her up with any eligible bachelor who unwittingly crossed their paths.

  “What’s shakin’?” Roxie Matthews asked as she dropped her red Coach bag onto the coffee table in the sitting area. “Ruthanne, I brought my camera and autograph book.”

  “You still have that?” Kate, the former nurse, took a seat on the teal love seat in the reception area. “Who collects autographs anymore? Is that even a thing?”

  “I do. And photos for my IG account. I like to know who I’ve met. Sometimes it’s hard to remember all of them,” Roxie quipped, rummaging through her purse. Her leopard-print blouse and skintight, satiny pants accentuated her figure, making her look ten—if not fifteen—years younger than she actually was.

  “Glad you all could get over here so fast.” Ruthanne shut her laptop. “I am so excited to meet the Johnny Storm and the rest of the band. I still have all their albums, and even some of the forty-fives, and I got to see him in concert in Richmond and Roanoke. Dreamy. Just dreamy.” She pulled out a pink lipstick and mirror from her purse and retouched her makeup.

  Cassidy half expected cartoon hearts to appear in Ruthanne’s eyes as she waxed on about the singer.

  “We are unprepared. We should have gotten them a fruit basket or something.” Aileen, the former elementary school teacher, dressed in a flowing pink and aqua tunic, fretted. “I feel like we’re arriving empty-handed. My mother would be appalled. Her rule was to always make a good first impression and never arrive without a gift.” Today her silver bob was tinted pink to match her outfit.

  Roxie waved her hand dismissively. “Our adulation and undying love will be enough. Where are they anyway?”

  “Over in the meadow. They’re staying here on the property since they’re headlining the concert’s big shows on multiple weekends,” Cassidy said.

  “And our little town doesn’t have any luxury accommodations nearby, nothing rock star worthy.” Roxie smirked.

  Cassidy considered the two drive-up motels on the outskirts of town that were relics of the Eisenhower years. “I’m sure they’ll be comfortable in their Megabuses.”

  “It’ll be nice when Dot and Jim finish their restoration of that old Victorian near the Baptist Church. That’ll be a perfect location for a bed and breakfast.” Aileen winked. “And if I know Dot, everything will be top notch. Ivy Springs needs something fancy. Sid “Pro Quo” Proctor’s no-tell motels went the way of the dinosaurs years ago. It’s much better that the band is staying here—for them and for us.”