Here’s an except from my brand new mystery story, “Moonlight Mansion Murder,” available exclusively in A Graveyard of Secrets (A Cozy Mystery Tribe Anthology). Grab your copy today: books2read.com/AGraveyardofSecrets

-1-

“What in the world is this place?” I asked my longtime friend Jerry as we walked toward the remote Victorian mansion a few miles outside of town. The full moon hung over the imposing structure, and the hairs at the back of my neck stood as I warily eyed the scene before me.

“I told you, my friend’s event-planning company is using this old place for Halloween parties,” Jerry said, running a hand through his mop of reddish-brown hair. He was dressed up like a famous glam-rock guitarist he idolized. “And this is the best party in Willow Creek all year, in my opinion. Might even be the best party in all of Pennsylvania.”

“Is that graveyard . . . real? Or is it part of the schtick?” I pointed toward the large open space populated with a smattering of tombstones.

“It’s a neighboring property, Denny,” my friend said. “An old cemetery that I think dates back to the 1800s. But it’s off-limits to event attendees—liability concerns, I think.”

“Never noticed it. I guess I need to get out more.”

My five-pound Yorkshire Terrier tugged on the leash as we approached the front of the mansion.

“Romeo, take it easy,” I muttered.

His harness contained a pair of bat wings that flopped as he strutted up the walkway—his costume was all I had on hand for this impromptu outing. As for myself, I was dressed as a pastry chef, with a white apron and hat—in real life, I owned a pizza truck aptly named Rolling Dough.

We reached the double doors at the front, and a young man in a tuxedo opened the door for us.

“High class,” I said, nodding at the man with appreciation.

Romeo pranced in and glanced around as we walked toward the grand room on the first floor in which thirty people were busy mingling, all dressed in various costumes. There were mummies and witches and characters from popular movies.

My eyes grew wide. “Wow, it’s been a long time since I’ve been to a Halloween party.”

“I guess you were right when you said you need to get out more,” Jerry said with a wry grin.

An athletic-looking man near the corner of the room let out a whoop, and I glanced in his direction. At around six-foot-tall, he was dressed up as a zombie, his T-shirt and jeans all tattered and torn. His head of short, black hair contrasted his pale face, and I could see the painted-on blood near his mouth. He nodded at his companion and drank from a red cup.

“That’s Ash Torrance,” Jerry pointed out. He seemed to know everyone in town. It was probably because for as long as I could remember, he owned and operated the only full-line music store in Willow Creek, where he also taught guitar. In addition to that, he played in a hard rock cover band, The Turnpike Boys.

“The famous tennis player?” I asked.

“That’s right. This town has produced several celebrities, and he’s one of them. The tall guy next to him is Fred Voorhees. He bartends at a place near my shop.”

“Tall is right,” I said, my gaze shifting to the man with sandy-blond hair who was somehow even taller than Ash. He was dressed in a flannel shirt and jeans. “I wonder what his costume is.”

“Not everyone dresses up,” Jerry said with a shrug. “But Fred is a great guy. I used to teach him guitar back in the day.”

A woman wearing a black-and-orange scarf and a witch’s hat drifted past us, holding a large tray filled with small, clear cups.

Jerry glanced around. “Zach said they were only having beer, soda, and punch here.” He pulled his cell phone out and tapped his finger repeatedly against the screen. “I better text him to give him a heads-up that folks are bringing their own.”

“Jellies!” Ash called out, pumping a fist in the air. He placed his red cup on a nearby table as the woman in the witch’s hat offered him some shots.

A few other people glanced over at Ash, wearing amused grins. But one man didn’t seem amused. Instead of a casual smile like the rest of the people were wearing, this man was shooting daggers at Ash. He sipped from a red cup and stepped toward the group with a noticeable limp.

“That’s Jason Prescott,” Jerry said as we watched the man stalk across the room like he was about to confront Ash.

“He looks upset,” I said.

“He’s harmless.”

Jason stopped abruptly as Ash downed three “jellies” in a row. Someone yelled something from the other side of the room, and I turned my attention to a couple men offering their encouragement to the tennis player. When I turned toward the direction where Ash was doing yet another shot, Jason was nowhere in sight.

“Woo!” Ash called out, then reached for his red cup and downed the contents.

“Well, this is interesting,” I said, glancing down at Romeo. The pup was resting on his haunches, watching the humans in the room behaving badly. Romeo glanced up at me and wagged his tail, as if he were entertained.

A slender thirty-something woman with straight blonde hair swept past me and turned to regard Romeo. She was wearing a tasteful striped scarf that was gold and maroon. “Aww, he’s such a cutie,” she cooed. I couldn’t help but notice the small scar above her right eye that was in the shape of a crescent moon.

“Thank you,” I said with a grin.

The woman gave me a warm smile that reached her blue eyes, then walked over to where Ash and Fred were hollering and raving. Ash’s words were slurred, and I feared that the man would soon pass out from his binging.

“That’s Fred’s sister,” Jerry pointed out. “Carrie dances at one of the clubs in town but dreams of helping animals.”

I turned to my friend, raising one brow reflexively.

Jerry scoffed. “Yes, I know the goings-on of everyone in town. Count me among the busybodies and gossips.” He paused and scanned the room, then let out a long breath. “Okay, well, I’m ready to have a look around the rest of the place. In fact, there’s a room that was once a library on the other side of the house. Heard that someone died there, a long time ago.”

My eyebrows rose at that revelation. “Is that so?”

“Yeah, want to check it out?”

I nodded and Jerry led the way toward the library. I trailed behind, with Romeo at my side. It didn’t take long to find the room. It was also on the first floor and featured windows that spanned from the floor to a few feet from the ceiling. I stepped past a person in a clown costume who was talking to a ballerina and made my way to one of the windows.

“This overlooks the cemetery,” I pointed out. A few clouds had concealed the full moon, casting a veil of darkness over the graveyard. I studied the array of tombstones and saw one move. No, it wasn’t a tombstone . . . it was a person. I could tell it was a man by their large stature.

Jerry joined me at the window. “Who is that?”

“Looks like . . .” The moon was no longer blocked by the clouds, and I could see the man’s ratty clothes as he staggered among the graves—it looked like a scene from a zombie flick I had seen growing up. “The tennis player? What’s he doing out there?”

Jerry shrugged. “No idea. But all I know is that Zach is gonna flip his lid.” He grabbed his phone and frowned. “Reception out here is terrible. My last message didn’t go through . . .”

“Hmm, that’s odd. So, you said someone died in here?”

“Yeah,” Jerry said.

“That’s it? I asked you about someone dying in this very room, and all you say is ‘yeah’?”

The momentary silence was eliminated in short order by a scream from another part of the house.

“What the heck was that?”

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