“This might be a long story,” Spencer replied. “If you’d like to take Miss Gillmore inside to get started, I’ll take care of things out here and give the police a call.”

  “Shouldn’t we just text Chas?” Missy asked.

  “We can, but this is just a case of vandalism, probably some kids messing around.”

  The worried woman nodded, and led Izzy inside, while Spencer photographed and cleared the crime scene, finding two tire marks where the vehicle that had thrown the Molotov cocktail had peeled out.

  **

  “So tell me how you’re certain that the things that have been happening to you are related to your books,” the policeman encouraged Izzy when she had her hands wrapped firmly around a mug of Missy’s honeyed tea.

  When she heard what had happened to the author, Missy had wisely brought Bitsy and Toffee down to the family room in the Owner’s Wing of the Inn, and currently, Bitsy was in Izzy’s lap and Toffee was snoozing on her feet. She had left Officer Jenkins to his questioning, knowing that the dogs would help relax the stressed-out young woman. Spencer had come in to join the officer after taking care of the crime scene and putting away the marshmallows and supplies from their evening.

  “Every detail is exactly the same as the scenarios in my books. When I went to a book signing in Tennessee, someone left a blue enameled pen that matched the description of a pen in one of my books, and when the local police examined it, they found that it had a capsule of poison in it, just like it was described in the book,” she said miserably.

  “And there are at least a dozen incidents similar to that, which are all clearly taken right out of my books. None of them have been directly harmful, but they all seem vaguely threatening, particularly if you take their context in the books into consideration,” Izzy sighed and put down her mug of tea, scratching Bitsy gently between the ears.

  “So, it’s a fan,” Spencer mused.

  “I would hope that a fan would have a more appropriate way of getting my attention. Why would someone who liked my books do these scary things?” she challenged.

  “Because people have funny ways of trying to get someone’s attention at times,” Jenkins speculated. “But he seems to be right in saying that they’d almost have to be a fan to know your books so well.”

  “It’s just so frustrating. All I want is to be left alone,” Izzy shook her head and took a sip of tea.

  “Maybe that’s the problem,” Spencer commented.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Maybe someone wants your attention and they’re not getting it,” he guessed.

  “Don’t worry about it, Miss Gillmore. I’ll be looking into this for you, and hopefully we can figure something out.”

  “I’m really sorry about all of this, Officer. I had hoped that whoever was doing this wouldn’t find me here, but apparently they’re going to find me no matter where I go,” Izzy sighed, feeling hopeless and vulnerable.

  “I got some tire prints from whoever it was, after they peeled out in front of the driveway, so maybe we can at least identify the tires, and the car,” Spencer reassured her.

  “My guess is a light blue 1975 Road Ripper pickup truck,” she replied staring into space.

  “Is that from a book?”

  She nodded slowly. “And if it was, you don’t even want to know what happens next.

  CHAPTER 7

  Missy took a deep breath before heading to the main foyer of the Inn to greet the guest who had just arrived. When she shut the door of the Owner’s Wing behind her, the dumpy little man holding a Key Lime pie turned to stare at her from behind coke-bottle glasses.

  “Mr. Eckels, how nice to see you again,” she greeted him sweetly, extending her hand.

  Much to her surprise, he put the pie into it, and continued gazing around the foyer.

  “Hi,” he said, seeming distracted.

  This evening might be even more challenging to get through than Missy had originally thought.

  “Chas and I are so glad that you could make it tonight, won’t you join me in the dining room?” she invited, taking small steps in that direction and hoping that he would follow.

  “Okay,” Tim agreed and meandered along behind her.

  Once inside the formal dining room of the Inn, Missy placed the delicious-looking Key Lime pie on one end of the table and was ecstatic when Chas appeared in the doorway.

  “Tim, glad you could make it,” he greeted the mortician warmly, shaking his hand.

  “Okay,” Tim said, nodding. He seemed a bit overwhelmed by his surroundings and the presence of people.

  “I’m starving,” the detective greeted his wife with a kiss.

  “Well, why don’t you boys take a seat, and we’ll get started,” Missy suggested, hoping that conversation would flow more naturally once the food had been served.

  As if on cue, once everyone was seated, Spencer came through the large mahogany door with a tray bearing a soup tureen. His eyes flashed briefly when he saw Tim, and his jaw tightened imperceptibly, but he said nothing as he moved around the table, ladling a luscious lobster bisque into the delicate china bowls in front of Missy, Chas and their guest. After a long look at the mortician that Chas and Missy missed, Spencer returned to the kitchen with the tureen.

  “So, how are you liking Calgon, Mr. Eckels?” Missy asked pleasantly, stirring her soup with a spoon.

  “Well, I’ve really only had a chance to see dead bodies so far,” he answered honestly, blinking at his hostess.

  “Oh!” Missy was startled when she realized that he wasn’t kidding. “Well, Echo and I really had a great time helping your assistant with her makeover,” she tried again.

  Tim’s assistant, Fiona, had demanded that he hire her after she met him when her sister was murdered, and he told her that she’d have to remove her multiple piercings and adopt a look that wouldn’t scare the families of the deceased if she wanted to work at the mortuary. Desperate to move up in the world, the unique young woman had gone shopping and to various salons with Missy and Echo, coming out looking like a respectable young lady. Now if he could only work on her bossiness a bit.

  “She looks different now,” he nodded, slurping a spoonful of soup, then dabbing at his lips with a linen napkin.

  “So how’s business?” Missy asked, ready to kick her husband under the table if he didn’t contribute to the conversation at some point.

  “Pretty dead,” was the deadpan response from Tim.

  A hysterical giggle burst forth from Missy and she covered it with her hand, not knowing if her guest would see the humor in his reply.

  “Sounds like you might need some supplemental work then,” Chas finally broke in. “Being a Medical Examiner would fill that void,” he smiled triumphantly, as Missy breathed an inward sigh of relief.

  She went to work on the bisque while the men talked business.

  “I suppose I have to examine the bodies anyway,” Tim mumbled, slurping his soup again and dribbling just a bit onto the napkin in his lap.

  “I’ve seen how you work, Eckels, and I’m really impressed. You found things that the former M.E. missed, on several occasions. I think you’d be a perfect fit for the job, and I can bring in an instructor from Miami to train you for a few weeks until he certifies that you’re ready to take charge,” the detective offered, in a low key voice, pretending to be terribly interested in his soup, but watching Tim like a hawk for any sort of reaction.

  “I’d still be able to prepare the deceased at the mortuary, right?” he asked, blinking at Chas.

  “Of course.”

  “Because you should see some of the hack jobs that are out there prepping the deceased. Eye glue doesn’t stick and the eyeball caps pop out when the seam gives way, broken bones poking through skin, causing seepage, there’s just no excuse for that kind of shoddy craftsmanship,” Tim shook his head in disgust as Missy choked on her soup and ran from the room with a quiet “excuse me.”

  Spencer was on instant alert when Missy charged into the kitchen and bent over the sink for a moment, taking deep breaths and thinking of kittens, flowers and unicorns. Her stomach rolled uncertainly, and she shook just a little bit.

  “What happened out there?” the Marine growled, ready to dart into the dining room.

  Missy started to giggle, softly at first, then hysterically, tears streaming from her eyes, as Maggie and Spencer stared at her. Maggie handed her a glass of water, and after taking a couple of sips and calming down a bit, Missy related the dinner conversation.

  Maggie clamped her lips together, trying not to laugh, and Spencer glowered fiercely.

  “That is one messed up dude,” he said in a low voice, his eyes on the door.

  “Oh, honey, I think he’s just lacking in social skills. I was a fish out of water in there. I threw him every conversational softball that I could think of, and it just didn’t go anywhere, but start talking about the dead, and he has plenty to say,” she hiccupped as a threat of the giggles struck again.

  “Is it safe to go back out there again?” Maggie was grinning from ear to ear.

  Missy dabbed at her eyes. “I think so, I’m just glad that we’re not serving prime rib,” she giggled.

  “Or sushi,” Maggie added with a snicker, as Spencer shook his head.

  The rest of the dinner passed without incident, with Tim and Chas talking about cold cases and destruction of evidence issues. Missy ate quickly and excused herself as soon as was polite, leaving the two men to their gruesome conversation, and taking a slice of gloriously silky Key Lime pie toward the Owner’s Wing. Before she got to her private entrance near the bottom of the stairs, she ran into Izzy Gillmore, looking white as a ghost.

  “Izzy, honey, what’s wrong?” Missy asked, alarmed.

  “Who is that man in the dining room?” she whispered, stealing glances in that direction.

  “His name is Timothy Eckels. He’s the local mortician, why?”

  “I know him. He’s sent me some strange fan mail in the past, and somehow found out my phone number when I lived in New York.”

  Missy frowned, concerned.

  “Strange? What do you mean?” she asked, keeping her voice low.

  “He reads my books and apparently makes notes of the forensic mistakes that I make, and sends them to me,” Izzy explained.

  “Well, sounds like he’s just an attentive fan.”

  “When he called me in New York, he sounded really offended by the fact that I hadn’t done my research. I had mentioned something about the way that bodies were prepared, because it was relevant to a zombie thriller that I’d been writing, and he was all bent out of shape because he felt that I was dispensing misinformation. It didn’t help when I told him that most readers wouldn’t know the difference or care,” she sighed.

  “I think I know which book you’re talking about,” Missy said excitedly. “Is it the one where the doctor travels to the mountains and gets bit by something in a cave, and…” she began, wide-eyed.

  “Yes, that’s the one,” Izzy interrupted, before her hostess got too carried away. “But he used to send me comments on all of them.”

  “When was the last time he did that?”

  “It’s hard to say, because he’s not the only one who does it, but I think it’s been a while,” she shrugged, taking nervous glances toward the dining room.

  “Well, maybe now that he’s made a new start here in Calgon, he doesn’t have time to dedicate to correcting your forensic procedure,” Missy smiled reassuringly.

  “Let’s hope so,” Izzy nodded, wrapping her arms around her midsection.

  CHAPTER 8

  Missy was shaking like a leaf when Izzy came down the stairs and into the dining room for breakfast.

  “Are you okay?” the young woman asked, her eyes darting around the room.

  “Oh honey,” Missy replied shakily. “I’m fine, but whatever you do, don’t go outside,” she instructed, her eyes wide.

  Izzy noticed that the drapes had been drawn in every room and sighed.

  “Let me guess…snakes in the trees?” she asked, shaking her head in disgust.

  Missy took an involuntary step backward and her mouth dropped open in shock. Her mouth opened and closed like a fish on a bank a couple of times before she could form a coherent sentence.

  “Wha…how…how did you know that?” she stammered, looking at the author like she was an alien life form.

  “I didn’t, I guessed, because that’s what happened in the book after the zombie one,” Izzy sighed. “But, if they’re true to the story, there’s no need to worry, the snakes will all be harmless.”

  “Why did the person in the book do it?” Missy asked, not really wanting to hear the answer.

  “Because the heroine in the book was deathly afraid of them, and he was trying to send a message.”

  Missy shuddered. “That’s awful.”

  Spencer came into the doorway of the dining room, with leaves and debris in his hair and small scratches all over his hands and arms.

  “Well, the good news is that it looks like they’re all non-venomous,” he announced.

  “Oh darlin!” Missy exclaimed, clamping her hand over her nose. “I don’t mean to be rude, but you…” she looked desperately for something tactful to say.

  “Smell?” he supplied for her, making a face. “Yeah, I know. It’s a scent that some of the snakes give off when you handle them. The guys from Animal Control have been helping me catch them, but it’s like shoveling waves out there.”

  Missy blanched and worked hard to keep from gagging.

  “I’ll come out and help, since this is my fault,” Izzy muttered, embarrassed.

  “Oh, honey, I don’t think that you want to…” Missy began, wide-eyed.

  Izzy shrugged with resignation. “It’s okay. Just because my main character was afraid of snakes doesn’t mean that I am. They’re just like any other critter. Poor things are probably so confused right about now.”

  Missy was speechless, and Spencer grinned with approval.

  “Yeah, it’s unfortunate,” he agreed, sobering. “Most of the snakes that were put into the trees weren’t tree snakes to begin with. A lot of them fell, some didn’t make it,” the Marine said soberly.

  “Well then, let’s go help the ones that did,” Izzy replied, determined.

  Missy watched them go, feeling slightly embarrassed at being so afraid of the slithery creatures. Toffee chose that moment to brush against her leg, and she nearly jumped out of her skin. Laughing at herself, she bent down to give the silky retriever a hug, and Bitsy came bounding over to join them, tiny ears flopping.

  Echo came into the dining room just then.

  “Hey girl, there you are! I didn’t see you at the cupcake shop and I wondered if something was wrong,” Echo came over and hugged her friend, then joined her in giving affection to the “girls.”

  “Did you know there was a snake on your front porch?” she asked.

  Missy went still and stared at her.

  “It was just a harmless, little bitty thing, so I picked it up and put it in the grass. Come to think of it, I should probably wash my hands,” she said, heading for the kitchen, with Missy trailing along behind her.

  “There are tons of snakes in the yard,” she murmured with a grimace, then explained what had happened.

  “Oh, I can’t wait to tell Kel about this,” she grinned, knowing how much her fiancé loved a good mystery.

  “This is bad though, who knows what will happen next?” Missy worried.

  “Well, Izzy does, apparently. The events come straight from her books, and if whoever is doing this, is doing it systematically, then the next event should come right from the following book,” Echo replied logically.

  “That makes sense, but there’s a problem.”

  “What’s that?”

  “I haven’t read the next book yet,” Missy shrugged.

  “Looks like we have our afternoon planned for us then, doesn’t it? I’ll grab a copy of it from the bookstore and take it to the candle shop with me, you download the eBook and read it on your tablet, and we can make notes about the awful things that happen. That way we can narrow down which events are likely to take place.”

  “Good think we read quickly,” Missy bit her lip. “If we know what might happen, we might be able to prevent it.”

  “Or let it happen and catch the person,” Echo looked at her shrewdly.

  “I’ll talk to Izzy about it too,” Missy nodded.

  “I’ll fill Kel in on what’s going on, and we can compare notes tomorrow over coffee and cupcakes. Sound good?”

  “Sounds perfect.”

  Echo wandered over to one of the heavy damask drapes and pulled it aside a bit to observe the snake cleanup in the back yard.

  “Well, it looks like those two are getting along well,” she turned around and waggled her eyebrows at her friend.

  “I’m definitely not coming over there to look,” Missy crossed her arms and stayed put.

  “They’re showing each other the snakes that they’ve picked up,” she narrated. “Now, they’re laughing…ooooh, she just put her hand on his arm,” she continued.

  “Oh, stop it,” Missy chuckled. “They have a mutual affection for squirmy, disgusting animals, that’s all there is to it, Nosy Nellie,” she teased.

  “I guess we’ll just have to see,” Echo replied knowingly, closing the curtain. “Normally I’d stay to watch more of the “Dating Game” in the back yard, but I have a book to buy, so I’m going to run.”

  “Alright, darlin, I’ll see you tomorrow,” Missy gave her friend a hug and walked her to the door, keeping her eyes on the porch as Echo stepped out, making certain that nothing squiggled its way inside the house.

  There was a distinct possibility that she’d have nightmares tonight, and Missy vowed that she’d let Spencer take the “girls” on their walk for a couple of days…just to be sure that there were no remaining reptiles about.

  CHAPTER 9

  Fiona McCamish, Mortuary Assistant, was thrilled at the news that her boss, Timothy Eckels, had accepted at least an interim position as Medical Examiner for Calgon County.