Halloween Party Murder Read online

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  TRICK OR TREAT MURDER

  BACK TO SCHOOL MURDER

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  NEW YEAR’S EVE MURDER

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  SILVER ANNIVERSARY MURDER

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  CHRISTMAS CARD MURDER

  (with Lee Hollis and Peggy Ehrhart)

  Books by Lee Hollis

  Hayley Powell Mysteries

  DEATH OF A KITCHEN DIVA

  DEATH OF A COUNTRY FRIED REDNECK

  DEATH OF A COUPON CLIPPER

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  DEATH OF A CHRISTMAS CATERER

  DEATH OF A CUPCAKE QUEEN

  DEATH OF A BACON HEIRESS

  DEATH OF A PUMPKIN CARVER

  DEATH OF A LOBSTER LOVER

  DEATH OF A COOKBOOK AUTHOR

  DEATH OF A WEDDING CAKE BAKER

  DEATH OF A BLUEBERRY TART

  DEATH OF A WICKED WITCH

  DEATH OF AN ITALIAN CHEF

  CHRISTMAS CARD MURDER

  (with Leslie Meier and Peggy Ehrhart

  Published by Kensington Publishing Corp.

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  Books by Barbara Ross

  Maine Clambake Mysteries

  CLAMMED UP

  BOILED OVER

  MUSSELED OUT

  FOGGED INN

  ICED UNDER

  STOWED AWAY

  STEAMED OPEN

  SEALED OFF

  SHUCKED APART

  Jane Darrowfield Mysteries

  JANE DARROWFIELD, PROFESSIONAL BUSYBODY

  JANE DARROWFIELD AND THE MADWOMAN NEXT DOOR

  Collections with Leslie Meier, Lee Hollis and Barbara Ross

  EGGNOG MURDER

  YULE LOG MURDER

  HAUNTED HOUSE MURDER

  HALLOWEEN PARTY MURDER

  HALLOWEEN PARTY MURDER

  Leslie Meier

  Lee Hollis

  Barbara Ross

  www.kensingtonbooks.com

  All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  To the extent that the image or images on the cover of this book depict a person or persons, such person or persons are merely models, and are not intended to portray any character or characters featured in the book.

  KENSINGTON BOOKS are published by

  Kensington Publishing Corp.

  119 West 40th Street

  New York, NY 10018

  Copyright © 2021 by Kensington Publishing Corp.

  “Halloween Party Murder” copyright © 2021 by Leslie Meier

  “Death of a Halloween Party Monster” copyright © 2021 by Lee Hollis

  “Scared Off” copyright © 2021 by Barbara Ross

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.

  Library of Congress Card Catalogue Number: 2021935336

  The K logo is a trademark of Kensington Publishing Corp.

  ISBN: 978-1-4967-3382-5

  ISBN-10: 1-4967-3382-7

  First Kensington Hardcover Edition: September 2021

  ISBN-13: 978-1-4967-3384-9 (ebook)

  ISBN-10: 1-4967-3384-3 (ebook)

  Table of Contents

  Also by

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  HALLOWEEN PARTY MURDER

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  DEATH OF A HALLOWEEN PARTY MONSTER

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  SCARED OFF

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  RECIPES - Vee’s Gluten-free Pumpkin Cookies

  HALLOWEEN PARTY MURDER

  Leslie Meier

  For Stella Rose Levitt

  and

  Abigail Meldrim Meier,

  because they know everything!

  Chapter One

  “Lucy, you were really wrong about Ty Moon,” said Bill, stepping into the kitchen and taking off the barn coat that was his autumn uniform. “He’s a really nice guy,” he continued, hanging the tan jacket on one of the hooks beside the kitchen door. He crossed the kitchen to the fridge and took out a beer, then joined his wife at the round golden-oak table.

  Lucy, who had been doing a crossword puzzle, looked up and smiled at her husband, even though she felt the slightest bit defensive. “I wasn’t the only one who suspected he was up to no good,” she said, remembering how most people in town had reacted to the strange noises and flashing lights emanating from the old Victorian house Ty and his wife, Heather, had bought a year or so ago. “I admit I may have overreacted,” she continued, thinking back to the frightening afternoon when her grandson Patrick disappeared inside the Moons’ house, a once-grand Victorian that had become so derelict that townsfolk suspected it was haunted. “But it wasn’t all my fault. Things kind of spiraled out of control.”

  “You can say that again,” said Bill, popping the top on his can of beer. “It’s a miracle nobody got shot once the SWAT team arrived.”

  Lucy put down her pencil. “All’s well that ends well,” she said. “If Ty hadn’t been so unfriendly and downright secretive about his work, people wouldn’t have been so suspicious.”

  “He’s been real successful; he told me he’s got a huge job coming up that’s gonn
a make him a lot of money.”

  Lucy knew that Ty created computer-generated special effects for TV and movies, and was able to work from home in the quaint seaside town of Tinker’s Cove, Maine. “And I think I was entirely justified in thinking he was abusing Heather,” she said, warming to her subject. “How could we know she was undergoing chemo for cancer?”

  “Well, she’s in remission now, and they’re ready to start a family,” said Bill. “And they’ve hired me to renovate that old monstrosity of a house and restore it to its former grandeur.” He took a long swallow. “With some modern improvements.”

  Lucy was definitely interested. She and Bill had recently expanded their former bedroom into a luxurious master suite, and she was nurturing plans for a kitchen reno, obsessively watching the home improvement shows on TV. “What have they got in mind?” she asked.

  “Well, they want to keep all the old moldings, the doors and fireplaces, all the stuff that gives the place character. The rooms are big and have high ceilings, which is great. We can’t go all-out open plan, but there are double doorways between the two living rooms and also from the hall into the dining room. I’m thinking of moving the kitchen into one of the living rooms, making the dining room a living room, and turning the old kitchen into a solarium.” He paused. “What do you think?”

  “I’m jealous,” said Lucy, glancing around at their antique farmhouse, with its small rooms, cramped staircases, and dormered bedrooms where they had raised their four children, who were now grown. “I love our house, I always have, but it would be nice to have a kitchen island, and a laundry room instead of having to go down to the basement, and,” she looked at the messy collection of coats and boots by the kitchen door, “a real mud room, with plenty of storage.”

  “Well,” said Bill, shrugging philosophically, “if the Moons go ahead with this reno, maybe all your champagne dreams will come true.” He fingered his beer can. “They’re talking big, and that means a big paycheck for me.”

  “When will you know?” asked Lucy.

  “Soon, I hope. I’ve got to draw up a plan and give them an estimate, but I don’t anticipate any problems. They were very clear about what they want, which makes it easy for me.” He drained his beer. “And, oh, you’ll love this, Lucy. Before we start demo, they want to have a big Halloween party. They said everybody thought the house was haunted, so why not throw a big bash? Heather said it could even be a fundraiser for your Hat and Mitten Fund.”

  Lucy was definitely revising her opinion of the Moons. “That’s a great idea.” She and three friends had created the fund years ago to provide warm winter clothing for the town’s less-fortunate kids, collecting outgrown clothing and distributing it to those in need. Through the years, the fund had grown, and it now provided back-to-school backpacks, holiday parties, and even summer-camp scholarships, in addition to its original mission of providing gently used jackets, boots, hats, and mittens.

  “Yeah, Heather said you should give her a call, see what you can work out.”

  “Will do,” said Lucy, reaching for her phone. She was still talking to Heather, inviting her to the next Hat and Mitten Fund meeting, when her youngest child, and the only one still living at home, arrived. Zoe was finally finishing up her degree at nearby Winchester College, ending a protracted higher-education career in which she’d sampled practically every major the small liberal-arts institution offered, finally settling on communications. She dropped her backpack on the floor and shrugged out of her bright pink Winchester hoodie, hanging it on the hook beside her father’s jacket.

  “What was that all about?” she asked, extracting a yogurt from the fridge and leaning against the kitchen counter to eat it. “I didn’t know you were friends with Queen Heather.”

  “I don’t know what you mean,” said Lucy. “As it happens, your father got a job fixing up the Moons’ old Victorian, and they want to have a big Halloween party there before the demo starts. A haunted house in the haunted house! It should be really popular, and it’s going to be a fundraiser for the Hat and Mitten Fund; that’s why I called her.”

  “Wow, Mom, I guess your suspicions about Ty Moon were way wrong,” she said, causing Bill to chuckle as he beat a hasty retreat to the family room.

  Lucy took a deep breath. “As I told your father, I was not the only person who had doubts about Ty Moon. If you remember, everybody thought he was abusing Heather and probably conducting all sorts of ungodly goings-on in that spooky house.”

  “Yeah, well, now he and Heather are the most popular couple in town,” said Zoe, licking the last of the yogurt off her spoon and tossing the cup into the trash.

  “Really?”

  “Yeah. They’re part of this young crowd of smart, hip creative types.”

  This was news to Lucy, who thought she and her friends were the smart, young crowd. After all, the population in Tinker’s Cove definitely skewed upward, with a large percentage of elderly citizens in their eighties and even nineties, which allowed Lucy and her friends to think of themselves as comparative youngsters. “Who are these people?” she asked.

  “Oh, you know. There’s Matt and Luisa Rodriguez, from the Cali Kitchen restaurant. That’s where they all hang out, especially for Sunday brunch. The Moons are regulars, and Juliette Duff shows up if she’s in town.”

  Lucy knew the Rodriguezes, a brother and sister who ran the restaurant created by their father, renowned chef Rey Rodriguez. Juliette Duff was a supermodel who had inherited her extremely wealthy grandmother’s estate on Shore Road, where it occupied a spectacular piece of property overlooking the ocean. “Who else?”

  “Well, Rosie Capshaw, she’s always there.”

  Lucy, who was a reporter for the Courier weekly newspaper, had interviewed Rosie, a recent arrival who was distantly related to Juliette and was living on the estate, where she created spectacular puppets in a disused barn.

  “What about Brendan Coyle?” Lucy knew the director of the local food pantry was a good friend of Rosie’s.

  “Yup, he’s there a lot, and so is Kevin Kenneally. They give the place a real happening vibe; you’d almost think you were in Portland or Boston.”

  “Kevin doesn’t seem to fit in with the others; they’re all creatives, and he’s pretty conservative, being the assistant DA and all,” said Lucy, trying to picture the group.

  “They love teasing him, and he’s a really good sport about it all.”

  Lucy suddenly wondered how her cash-strapped student daughter had come by this knowledge. She certainly couldn’t afford to frequent the expensive Cali Kitchen Sunday brunch. “How do you know all this?” she asked. “Since when have you been eating brunch?”

  “I wish,” said Zoe, sighing and rolling her eyes. “Don’t you remember? I filled in at Cali Kitchen for my friend Catie a couple of weeks ago. It was brutal hard work; that bunch had me running my feet off getting them mimosas and Bloody Marys, but they were generous tippers. Especially Ty.”

  “Well, I better get supper started,” said Lucy, pressing her hands on the table and pushing herself up off her chair. She had to admit it; she wasn’t as young as she used to be, what with her aching back and diminished energy. “I could use some help,” she suggested, hopefully.

  “Sorry, Mom, I’ve got a paper due,” said Zoe, zipping up the back stairs and leaving Lucy to peel the potatoes.

  * * *

  Lucy and her Hat and Mitten Fund friends had been meeting at Jake’s Donut Shack on Thursday mornings for years, beginning when their kids had gone off to college and they no longer ran into each other at sports practices and school events. The four women had shared advice and offered emotional support as their kids entered their tricky twenties and launched their own careers and families. But now, as she glanced around the table, she realized they were no longer the young, hip bunch she’d always considered them to be.

  Nowadays, they were on the far side of middle age, and it was beginning to show. There were streaks of gray in Rachel Goodman’s shoul
der-length black hair; Pam Stillings still wore her reddish hair in a ponytail, but bags had begun to appear under her eyes. Sue Finch, always the most stylish member of the group, worked hard to maintain her slim figure, but Lucy had noticed the slightest beginnings of a muffin top around her waist, and one day her chic ballet shoe slipped off, revealing an orthotic arch support. As for herself, Lucy knew she was fighting a losing battle when she smoothed on her drugstore moisturizer every morning and faithfully applied night cream before going to bed.

  The years were definitely taking a toll, but they’d also given the four friends the gift of friendship. They formed a tight group, having shared so many experiences, and Rachel was quick to remind them when they gathered at their usual table that Heather might find them a bit intimidating. “She’s a newcomer,” began Rachel, who had majored in psychology in college and had never gotten over it, “and we need to make her feel welcome. No inside jokes, no references to past events she knows nothing about, that sort of thing. Also, I would imagine she’s still dealing with the emotional effects of her cancer diagnosis and treatment, even though she’s now in remission and may even be cured.”

  “I don’t know about that,” said Lucy, signaling to Norine, the waitress, that she wanted a cup of coffee. “Zoe calls her ‘Queen Heather’ and says she and Ty are the most popular couple in town. They’re part of a group of bright young things that regularly gather for Sunday brunch at Cali Kitchen.”

  Lucy felt Sue bristle beside her as Norine approached to fill their mugs and take their orders: a sunshine muffin for Rachel, hash and eggs for Lucy, granola and yogurt for Pam, and black coffee for Sue. When Norine went off to the kitchen, Sue practically exploded.

  “Queen Heather? That’s ridiculous!” she exclaimed, tucking a glossy lock of hair behind one ear with a perfectly manicured hand. “And since when did these upstart social climbers—millennials who, I can guarantee, don’t know the first thing about writing a thank-you note or a proper letter of sympathy—when did they become the most popular social set in town? And who decided that anyway?”