“I’m sorry, Ms. Banks, but I can’t help you,” she began.

  “Oh yes you can, dearie, and you will. I know that Izzy Gillmore is staying here, and you’re going to get her for me right now, or I’m going to go find her myself,” she threatened at top volume, leaning in to invade Missy’s personal space the way that she had with Maggie. She clearly had no idea who she was dealing with. The southern spitfire drew herself up to her full height and raised an eyebrow at the irate publisher.

  “You will do no such thing,” Missy said quietly, her kitten-grey eyes burning into the rheumy, faded blue ones in front of her. “I don’t know who you think you are, but this is my house and my business that you’re barging into and raising your voice like a fishwife. You had no right to treat Maggie unkindly, and you will not order me around like I’m a servant in your home. I’ve been nice to you up until now, and that’s simply because I was raised properly, but you’d better believe you need to turn around and walk out of here right now, before I have you removed.”

  “First, you had better…” the publisher screeched, before an authoritative male voice cut in, as Spencer seemed to materialize out of thin air.

  “Is there a problem here?” he demanded, towering over the now silent harpy.

  “You don’t intimidate me, young man. You lay one hand on me and I’ll slap you with a lawsuit so fast it’ll make your head spin,” Miranda Banks railed, craning her head to look up at the mountain of a Marine.

  “Actually, this young man is my private security guard, and he is absolutely authorized to remove you from this property by whatever means he deems necessary. There’s the door, Miranda,” Missy’s eyes were chips of steel.

  The publisher looked from Missy, up to Spencer, and back again.

  “You’ll regret this,” she muttered.

  Missy’s southern accent was in full twang. “Was that a threat, Ms. Banks?” she challenged, stepping forward to invade the bony woman’s space, trying not to breathe in the smell of tobacco and coffee.

  “That was a promise,” the old crone growled, her crimson slicked lips pulling back to reveal teeth yellowed by age and habits.

  Missy never took her eyes off of the publisher.

  “Spencer, see Ms. Banks to the door, then escort her from the property. Miranda Banks, if you set foot on these premises again, I’ll have you arrested for trespassing, and that’s a promise,” Missy’s tone was icy.

  CHAPTER 12

  As soon as Spencer went out the door with Miranda Banks and Missy heard the screech of her tires leaving the parking lot, she went to the kitchen to find Maggie.

  “Hey darlin, you alright?” she asked, giving the Innkeeper a hug.

  “Ooooo! It was so hard to hold my temper with that vile woman,” Maggie frowned.

  “Oh, tell me about it, honey. I nearly betrayed my genteel upbringing with that one,” Missy shook her head.

  “Is she gone?” Maggie asked, taking a furtive glance at the kitchen door.

  “For now,” Spencer replied, walking into the kitchen. “She yelled and threatened all the way to her car, then rolled down the window and kept it up until the car was out of sight.”

  “That woman is nuts,” Maggie commented, an unusual remark out of the woman who made it her mission in life to take care of the needs of others, no matter what their quirks.

  “Certifiable,” Missy agreed. “I’d better go warn Izzy that she’s in town, poor thing,” she said, heading for the door.

  “Izzy’s not here,” Spencer stopped her.

  Missy’s eyes grew wide with concern. “She’s not? Where is she?”

  “I’m not sure. She told me yesterday that she wanted to explore a bit, so she’s probably out doing that,” the Marine shrugged.

  “We have to find her,” Missy breathed. “If the person who is stalking her followed her, she could be in danger.”

  “Let’s not jump to conclusions,” Spencer cautioned. “She came here because she wanted to be by herself. Maybe the nicest thing that we can do for her is to let her just disappear for a while.”

  “But, what if something happens to her?” she worried.

  “If the stalker thinks she’s here, hiding away in her room, then she shouldn’t have anything to worry about, right? If they try anything, our security cameras will pick it up,” he replied reasonably.

  “I suppose you’re right,” Missy nodded. “I just worry about the poor little thing.”

  Missy had given the strange list of things that might happen, based upon what she, Echo and Kel had found in Izzy’s book, to Spencer, so that he’d know what he might potentially be dealing with as he kept watch. The fact that the Marine wasn’t worried at the moment helped Missy feel better about things, but she was still nervous about when and how the stalker might strike again. Right now, however, she needed to get to her “girls” and take them outside for their walk.

  Toffee and Bitsy greeted their human with happy kisses and wagging tails, eager to go for their late afternoon walk on the beach. This was a special time of day for Missy and the “girls,” where they enjoyed the warm breezes, sand and surf as the sun started to set. Their routine hardly ever varied, they’d go for a walk to unwind and take care of business, then it was time to head home to make dinner.

  Since the beach behind the Inn and cupcake shop was private, Missy and the girls very rarely encountered any people, so she was surprised when she saw a familiar-looking figure sitting on the beach, her feet curled beneath her.

  “Hi Genevieve,” Missy approached the author, the dogs staying quietly behind her. “You haven’t been out here all day, have you?”

  “Oh, hi!” The blonde woman looked up with a sunny smile. “No, I haven’t been out here all day. When I didn’t see Izzy this morning, I went on a tour of Calgon, did some shopping, and came back out here to relax a little bit, thinking I might finally run into that silly girl,” she chuckled. “Is it okay that I’m out here?” she asked.

  “Oh, of course. It’s not a problem at all,” Missy assured her. “Where are you staying?”

  “Well, actually, I’d been hoping that I might be able to stay with Izzy, but since she seems to have gone into hiding somewhere, I don’t know where I’m going to go,” Gen shrugged, looking up at Missy and shielding her eyes from the sun with her hand. “Are there any decent hotels nearby?”

  Missy thought about the paid-for but not inhabited rooms of the Inn just sitting empty, and made a decision.

  “You know what, there’s no reason you can’t stay here. That way you’ll be here when Izzy gets back from wherever she is today. I’ll just refund her money for one of the rooms. I’m sure she’ll be okay with that once she finds out that it’s because you came to surprise her,” Missy smiled down at the author.

  “Really? Are you sure?”

  “Absolutely. Whenever you’re done enjoying the sunset, just come on up to the Inn and talk to Maggie, she’ll get you set up in a room. Where are your things?”

  “Well, I didn’t bring much,” Gen replied. “I didn’t know how long I’d be staying, so everything that I have is under the tree over there by the boardwalk,” she pointed to a small suitcase and carry-all a few feet away. Her sandals lay beside her and her toes were dug into the sand.

  “Okay, I’ll send Spencer down to collect your bags when the girls and I get back to the Inn. He’s very sweet and he’ll take good care of you,” Missy promised.

  “Thank you so much. This is going to be such a fun surprise,” Gen grinned.

  “My pleasure. So, how do you and Izzy know each other?”

  “We work for the same publisher, so we’ve weathered some of the same storms,” she smiled wryly.

  “I can’t even imagine working for that awful woman,” Missy shook her head, as Toffee bumped her forehead against the back of her owner’s leg, signaling that she was ready to move on. Bitsy made impatient little huffs and chuffs.

  “Oh, you’ve heard some of the stories?”

  “No, I experienced her firsthand. She came here looking for Izzy this afternoon – said that she’s missing her deadline and she refused to leave. I had to have Spencer escort her from the property,” Missy made a face, remembering.

  “Oh, wow. I’m sorry that you had to deal with all of that. She’s crazy, but you get used to it after a while.”

  “I don’t know that Izzy takes it as well as you do. She was really stressed out when she arrived, and now I can imagine why.”

  “Yeah, the writing biz isn’t for the faint of heart, that’s for sure,” Gen nodded.

  Toffee gave a short woof, indicating highly uncharacteristic impatience.

  “Well, it sounds like these girls are ready to get home to their supper, so I’d better get going,” Missy apologized. “I’m sure I’ll see you soon.”

  “Looking forward to it,” the author waved, and resumed gazing out over the water as Missy and the dogs headed for home.

  CHAPTER 13

  Timothy Eckels would have much preferred to have taken the young woman’s corpse back to the familiar confines of his own mortuary in order to perform her autopsy, but county policy mandated that the work of exploring the remains for clues be performed at the county morgue, where evidence collected could be quickly catalogued and kept within a proper chain of custody. The county facilities were large and well-equipped, but did not meet the mortician’s standards of order and tidiness. He didn’t know where anything was kept, and it seemed that whomever had arranged the facility, had no knowledge whatsoever regarding the tools and steps necessary for performing even the most basic functions of the job.

  “No wonder Nichimura got fired,” the mortician muttered, shaking his head at the stunning incompetence of the former Medical Examiner.

  Tim found the tools that he would need for the autopsy, including various evidence containers, and he kept his camera at the ready, so that photos could be taken at different stages of the autopsy process, particularly if something of importance was found. Once the next of kin for this beautiful young redhead could be located, he hoped that the decision would be made to have an open casket, because he relished the thought of being able to turn this cold mound of flesh into a supremely lovely work of art.

  It didn’t take a rocket scientist, or even a very good forensic practitioner for that matter, to see that the young woman had been murdered. There were bruises on her face, where a hand had been clamped too firmly over her mouth, as the attacker had slashed her throat, killing her almost instantly. The angle of the slice puzzled and intrigued Tim. It looked as though the killer had been shorter than the victim, who was a rather petite woman. The size of the bruises on the face also indicated a smallish hand. Could this young woman’s life have been snuffed out by a teenager? Was this a gang related killing? The mortician frowned as he lifted the woman’s hair to see if there were any marks on her neck or at the hairline. He did a methodical analysis of the entire corpse, saving the death wound for last, simply because that was typically where the most evidence would be collected. Murder stories were often written and told in the final blow that snuffed a life, at least forensically speaking.

  After more than an hour, Tim was finally ready to start examining the neck wound. He had just taken the last photo prior to the exam when Fiona came bursting in the door.

  “You started without me,” she accused, out of breath.

  “I had no intention of starting with you,” he blinked at her, one gloved hand poised above the death wound.

  “Well, I’m never going to be able to learn anything if you don’t at least let me watch when you do this stuff,” she pointed out, grabbing a protective gown and snapping on latex gloves.

  Tim ignored her, and examined the wound, making measurements and speaking his notes into a microphone that was clipped to his gown. Fiona moved to the opposite side of the table from the mortician and acting Medical Examiner, making sure to stay out of his light. Suddenly, he frowned, and leaned closer, far closer than most people would have been able to stomach, to the corpse’s neck.

  “Do you see that?” he muttered, more to himself than Fiona.

  “See what?” she grabbed a magnifying lens from the tray.

  “That,” he gestured with his forceps at a small white speck within the incision.

  Fiona looked at him wide-eyed. “That doesn’t look organic,” she half-whispered.

  “No, it doesn’t,” Tim frowned more deeply. “Take the camera, and shoot photos where and when I tell you to,” he ordered, picking up a scalpel. Carefully peeling layers back, he revealed more of the white object without adding tremendously to the original incision.

  “What is it?” Fiona breathed, snapping pictures when ordered to do so.

  Tim ignored her question, focusing on his work. He grabbed carefully at the white material with his forceps, and pulled gently.

  “That looks like…” Fiona began.

  “It is,” he cut her off, wanting her to be quiet while he performed the delicate task of extracting the object.

  The mortician-turned-medical-examiner got a better grip and tugged until finally the crumpled tubular item slipped free.

  “It’s like a message in a bottle,” Fiona whispered, mystified.

  Tim took another pair of forceps and unrolled two pages that had been torn from a paperback book.

  “Whoa, dude, what does that mean?” Fiona stared at her boss.

  “That means that you go call Detective Beckett,” was the grave reply.

  CHAPTER 14

  Missy and Chas were enjoying a quiet dinner for two, sitting side by side on the couch and watching a sitcom from the 90’s when the detective’s work phone buzzed in his pocket.

  “Oh no,” Missy sighed, putting down her fork.

  She’d made a down-home Southern dinner of smoked ribs, barbeque beans, dilled potato salad and hot, fluffy, buttermilk biscuits. The food was delightful, and the company even more so. Missy absolutely loved it when Chas didn’t have to work late and they could enjoy a lazy, intimate evening together, snuggled on the couch, with the dogs at their feet.

  Chas picked up the call and left the room, while his wife dabbed her biscuit in the sweet rich bean sauce and took a bite. She was still munching when he came back a few minutes later, but put down her plate when she saw the look on his face.

  “Bad news?” Missy asked softly, reaching for her husband’s hand.

  “Strange news,” the detective replied, bending down to kiss his beloved. “And unfortunately, it means that I have to go,” he sighed.

  “It’s okay, sweetie, I have a new recipe that I’ve been wanting to play with lately anyway. You might just come home to a luscious cupcake or two,” Missy said playfully.

  “All I want to come home to is you, Beautiful,” Chas kissed her again and reached for the sport coat that was hung over the back of a chair on his way out.

  **

  Missy put the leftovers from dinner away, making up a plate in case Chas was hungry when he came home, did the dishes, and took out some notecards so that she could write down recipe notes as she experimented with a new recipe. She tried several combinations of flavors, and nothing seemed to be working out well, so after a while, she realized that she was too distracted to be creative, and resigned herself to reading in bed. She took the “girls” out one last time, then came in and slipped into her soft cotton pajamas.

  Perusing the selection of new books that she’d downloaded over the past few days, Missy settled on an interesting Cozy Mystery about a delicious-sounding deli on Lake Michigan, not feeling ready at all to read anymore horror for a while. She briefly wondered if Izzy had decided to come back to the Inn for the evening, or if she’d found somewhere that she wanted to be for another day, but figured since she hadn’t heard anything from Maggie or Spencer, that all was well. The Innkeeper and Marine had gotten Izzy’s friend Genevieve settled into a room, and the stately mansion was quiet as everyone settled in for the night.

  Missy was only a few chapters into the book, and craving Pastrami sandwiches like crazy, when her eyelids started to droop, and she realized that Chas would once again be coming home to a snoozing wife. Slumber claimed her soon after, her tablet falling to the bed beside her as she drifted off, only to be startled violently awake when a piercing scream ripped through the night.

  She immediately grabbed her phone and texted 911 to Spencer, then leaped from the bed, dogs on full alert, grabbing her robe and thrusting her arms through the sleeves as she sprinted for the door to the main Inn. Bursting into the grand foyer, careful not to let the dogs out of the Owner’s Wing, she saw Genevieve standing, staring at the front door, pale as a ghost and shaking like a leaf. Following the young woman’s gaze, as Spencer came charging in from the kitchen, Missy put her hand over her mouth in shock and horror. There was blood smeared around the entire door frame. It dripped down the sides and formed tiny pools on the pristine white marble below, filling the air with an acrid, coppery scent.

  “Goat’s blood,” she whispered, wrapping her arms around her middle as Genevieve turned to stare at her, eyes vacant.

  “What?” the author was confused.

  “It’s goat’s blood,” Missy murmured again.

  “How do you know that?” Spencer demanded and sprung forward to catch Genevieve as she slipped into a faint.

  “Because it’s in the book. Take her up to her room please, I’ll send Maggie up with tea,” Missy directed, texting Chas as fast as her fingers would fly.

  **

  “I know that this has been a rather disturbing time for you, Miss Lightman,” Chas said gently to the pale woman on the couch in her room. “But I need to know what happened, and if you saw anything.”

  Taking a bracing sip of Maggie’s strong tea, Gen nodded.

  “I woke up and I was a little bit hungry, and Maggie said that I should help myself to whatever was in the refrigerator whenever I wanted it, so I came down to get a snack, but when I got to the foyer, I smelled something awful, and I looked at the front door…and…” her eyes welled with tears and she swiped at them impatiently.