Murder in the Storybook Cottage Read online

  Eugenia Pratt and Roger Bachman had met when a group of historians had come to Storyton Hall for a conference on the Great War. Mrs. Pratt and Roger had been partnered in a wartime cooking class. Their mutual attraction had taken them both by surprise, and though Roger lived and worked in New York City, their relationship was still going strong.

  “Is Roger coming to Storyton this weekend?” Jane asked.

  Mrs. Pratt loved the spotlight. She took a dainty sip of her tea, drawing out the moment, before answering Jane’s question. “Yes. He has big news that he wants to tell me in person. He hopes that it will make me happy.”

  The room echoed with ooooooohs.

  All eyes were on Mrs. Pratt. She wore a dreamy expression, and her mouth curved into a secretive smile.

  “Do you think he’ll propose?” Violet asked. “You’ve been together, what, five months?”

  Anna didn’t give Mrs. Pratt the chance to answer. “What about the fact that it’s been a long-distance relationship? How well can you know someone when you only get together every few weeks?”

  Eloise looked at Mrs. Pratt. “I thought you didn’t want to marry again.”

  Mrs. Pratt moved her shoulders in the ghost of a shrug. “I don’t. I’m very set in my ways. I had a long and happy marriage to a good man. After he passed, I didn’t plan on sharing my life with anyone else. I’ve given my heart to Roger, but I don’t want to open my home to him.”

  Mabel nodded. “I tell you what. Even if Idris Elba asked to move in, I wouldn’t want him underfoot. You all know that I can be messy, but there’s an order to my mess. A purpose to every pile. I can’t imagine changing things to accommodate a man.”

  Jane thought of the bundles of yarn, mountains of fabric, and spools of thread in Mabel’s shop. They seemed to migrate to every room in her house, turning it into a wonderland of color and texture. Like most of the merchants in the village of Storyton, Mabel’s brick and stone cottage was both her business and her home. The two-story cottages marched in a neat line down Main Street, boasting lush front gardens enclosed by a low fence and a small lawn in the rear.

  As she topped off Mabel’s tea, Jane said, “You’re like the miller’s daughter in Rumpelstiltskin. Instead of spinning straw into gold, you spin cloth and thread into beautiful clothes. Magical shawls, enchanting dresses, charming hats. I can’t wait to see the twins in their costumes on Saturday.”

  Eloise gazed down at her empty plate. “Speaking of costumes, I won’t be able to zip mine if I have a second scone. And I’m not giving any hints either.”

  Betty offered to carry the teacups and plates to the kitchen. When Mrs. Pratt held out her teacup, Betty took it and said, “Jane and Edwin don’t cohabitate, and their relationship hasn’t suffered, so you and Roger should be fine.” She looked at Jane. “If you ask me, you and Edwin seem more in love than ever. Why don’t you get married?”

  Jane could feel the weight of her friends’ stares. As much as she hated to lie to them, she had no choice. Only Eloise knew about Edwin’s secret life. Last fall, he’d finally told his little sister that he was a Templar. He went on to explain that he was a Robin Hood of book thieves. He stole incredibly rare books and documents with the sole purpose of returning the items to their original owners or their descendants. And when he wasn’t stealing things, he was cooking exquisite food at the Daily Bread Café.

  Edwin went away for weeks at a time to carry out missions for his order while posing as a travel writer. Jane loved him with her whole heart, but he wasn’t good father material. His life was filled with duplicity. Despite the fact that the twins adored Edwin, Jane had asked him to distance himself from her sons. They were the most important people in her life, and she wouldn’t see them hurt. They came before everything. Even her own happiness.

  However, the Cover Girls knew nothing of the challenges Jane and Edwin faced. Only Eloise knew the truth. And just as the silence was on the verge of being uncomfortable, she came to Jane’s rescue.

  “Jane said that she’d never marry again after losing William, remember? No matter how much time goes by, it must still hurt.”

  Jane shot her a grateful look. “It does. It kind of catches me off-guard. One of the boys will make a certain face, and I’ll see William in the expression. It makes me feel a bunch of emotions at once. I’m happy because I know that he lives on through his sons. But I’m also sad because they’ll never know their father.”

  Anna took Betty’s hand. “Not everyone gets to marry their high school sweetheart. You’re one of the lucky ones.” She turned to Jane. “Love is complicated. Just ask me. Being in love with your boss takes complicated to a whole new level.”

  Violet looked at Jane. “I know you’re excited about this weekend, but I don’t like Valentine’s Day. It’s not a fun holiday when you’re single.” She forced a smile. “Maybe whoever bought the Spokes cottage will turn out to be my dream guy. If not mine, then Phoebe’s. She and I are competing to see who has a longer dry spell when it comes to men. Neither of us wants to win.”

  “You’re both amazing, and any man incapable of seeing that is missing out. Not to change the subject, but I didn’t realize that Spokes had moved to its new location,” Jane said, referring to the town’s bicycle rental and sales company.

  “Their old place is already under contract. No one knows who the buyer is. Believe me, I’ve asked. All I got from the Spokes guys is that he isn’t from around here.”

  “He?” Jane arched her brows. “Maybe it is your dream guy. We’ll just have to be pleasantly surprised. And speaking of surprises, I have one for all of you. You’ll have to bundle up, though. We’re going outside.”

  Mabel pointed at Jane’s front door. “You have a surprise for us out there?”

  “Yes. I wanted my friends to be the first to see it. Other than the twins and the staff members who created it, no one has experienced Storyton Hall’s newest attraction.”

  Betty gasped. “Is it the spa? Have you opened the relaxation area?”

  “That’s scheduled for later this week.” Jane clapped her hands. “Come on, ladies. If you don’t button up and get outside, we’ll miss our ride.”

  “Is it a she-shed?” Phoebe guessed. “I’ve always wanted a she-shed.”

  Mrs. Pratt pulled on her gloves and joined Jane by the door. “Since you started our meeting with Roald Dahl chocolate bars, I’m guessing your surprise is related to him. I just hope you didn’t recreate his shed. He kept a piece of his own hip bone in there. Why he kept that bone, or a giant ball of chocolate wrappers, is beyond me.”

  “Novelists are strange creatures. And thank God for that,” said Mabel. She tugged a wool cap over her ears and raised a warning finger. “Jane, I know how much you love literary quotes. Doesn’t The Book Thief have a line about a snowball to the face being the beginning of a lasting friendship? Because I do not want a snowball to the face.”

  Jane laughed. “We already have a lasting friendship. But I’m glad you mentioned a book about kids because this attraction is all about books and kids.”

  When her friends were finally out the door, Jane called upstairs to tell the twins she’d be back soon. She then steered the Cover Girls to the middle of the Great Lawn, which was blanketed in several inches of pristine snow.

  Suddenly, a pair of horse-drawn sleighs appeared from a path in the woods.

  “Oh!” exclaimed Mrs. Pratt. “Is this for us?”

  Jane grinned. “Yes. Sam started offering sleigh rides in December. Hilltop Stables doesn’t generate much money in the winter, so we thought of a way for him to earn a little cash while treating Storyton Hall’s guests to some cold-weather magic.”

  Phoebe watched the approach of the two sleighs, her eyes glittering with anticipation. “I’ve heard about these rides through the woods. They’ve been a big hit with your guests.”

  Sam Nolan eased his horses to a stop. His assistant, Deacon, followed suit. Sam, who was handsome in an all-American way, flashed a brilliant
smile. His gaze lingered on Eloise. He’d been in love with her since they were kids, but he was slowly coming to accept that her heart belonged to Landon Lachlan, Storyton Hall’s head of recreation.

  As he helped Eloise into the sleigh, she greeted him warmly. She then arranged a blanket over herself, Phoebe, and Mrs. Pratt.

  Jane made sure her friends were comfortable before taking a seat next to Sam. He made a clicking noise with his tongue, and his clever horses began to walk.

  “They’ve adjusted so well to the snow,” Jane marveled.

  “They have.” Sam grinned like a proud parent. “I had to outfit them all with special snowshoes, but they love it. Sometimes, they play in the snow like little kids. They run and toss their manes and roll around on the ground.”

  Behind them, Deacon began to sing. He had a deep, rich baritone that floated over the snow-covered lawn and drifted into the barren trees.

  Jane didn’t recognize the song, but Sam did.

  “It’s Queen. ‘A Winter’s Tale,’” he said.

  With Deacon’s song filling the air and the landscape gliding by, the sleigh ride took on a feeling of quiet enchantment.

  By the time the song was done, Sam was leading the horses into the woods. The wide walking path was covered with packed snow, and the sleighs headed for the clearing where hikers and nature lovers enjoyed picnics during the temperate months.

  As the sleighs rounded a bend, lights came into view. There were thousands, twinkling in the tree canopy like a sea of fallen stars.

  “How lovely,” Eloise cried.

  As the sleighs drew closer, structures appeared in the clearing. Jane pivoted in her seat to catch her friends’ reactions as they recognized the diminutive buildings.

  “Is that a giant shoe?” Mrs. Pratt asked.

  “A shoe-shaped house?” added Betty. “Like in the nursery rhyme?”

  Eloise giggled. “Yes! And there’s Rapunzel’s tower and the gingerbread cottage from Hansel and Gretel. Look at the gumdrop shingles and the candy-cane shutters.”

  Sam pulled on the reins, and the horses came to a stop next to a carpet of false grass.

  “Welcome to Storybook Village,” said Jane, jumping down from the sleigh. “It might be wintertime in the woods, but inside the village, it’s always spring.”

  Jane waited for her friends to join her on the green carpet.

  “How are you keeping the snow out?” Anna asked, glancing overhead.

  “The entire area is covered by a canopy. The underside is painted to look like an evening sky and is woven through with fairy lights. The canvas drops down around the sides of the village as well. We tried to camouflage it with silk trees and blooming vines.”

  Beckoning to the Cover Girls to follow her, Jane led them inside the gingerbread cottage. The interior was crowded with child-sized tables and chairs. Gas logs burned in a small fireplace, and a battery-powered lantern sat on each table. In the kitchen area, a menu board listed the hot chocolate drinks and iced cookies available for purchase.

  “A staff member will man the kitchen this weekend,” Jane explained. “You should see the cookies Mrs. Hubbard baked. She made gingerbread boys and girls, scary witches, magic wands, unicorns, crowns, fairy-tale castles, princess gowns, and frog princes.”

  Mabel pointed at the menu board. “Snickerdoodle hot cocoa? Yum. Is there an age limit for customers?”

  “As long as you’re young at heart, you can enter the Storybook Village. Come on. I have more to show you.” Jane led her friends to Rapunzel’s tower. Inside, there were chairs facing gold-framed mirrors. Another menu board listed the services offered for princesses-in-training.

  Violet’s eyes widened. “Fairy hair? How cool! What colors can they choose from?”

  Jane opened a cupboard at the back of the tower. “All colors of the rainbow.”

  “What’s fairy hair?” Betty asked.

  “It’s hair tinsel,” Violet explained. “You tie a strand onto your own strand of hair, near your part, and then cut it to the desired length. It’s shiny and colorful. Like tinsel.”

  Phoebe examined the display of strands in the cupboard. “I love the rose gold.”

  “There’s no age limit here, either,” Jane told her friend.

  “What about the boys?” asked Eloise. “Won’t they feel excluded?”

  Jane put a hand on the ladder leading to the second floor of the tower. “If they climb the tower, they can get an airbrush tattoo. The activities are open to both genders. The parents will decide who does what.”

  The next building was a ramshackle structure with a straw-covered floor. A replica spinning wheel sat in one corner. A large worktable occupied the rest of the space.

  “This is Rumpelstiltskin’s workshop,” Jane told her friends. “Kids are invited to make no-sew crafts including a pillow, potholders, placemats, or a dog toy.”

  Mabel stared at Jane. “You do realize that we all want tattoos and fairy hair. We want to drink hot chocolate and weave placemats. We might never want to leave.”

  Jane gave Mabel’s shoulder a pat. “The village will be open for business on Friday.”

  “Is there an activity in every house?” Eloise asked.

  Jane shook her head. “Two of the buildings are playhouses. We have a dress-up station and a funhouse mirror wall in Cinderella’s mini castle and a climbing wall and spiral slide in the cottage of the Seven Dwarfs. We plan to keep this village up all year, but it will only be staffed during kid-centered events. I think you’ll like Belle’s house, Eloise. That’s where our youngest authors can write and assemble their own storybooks.”

  Eloise’s eyes danced with delight. “Show me.”

  Jane waited for her friends to gather on the grass carpet once more. She’d just opened the door to the next cottage when she spotted a splash of bright red on the faux wood floor inside.

  A pair of rocking chairs partially obscured her view, but there was something familiar about the red shape.

  “Wait here,” Jane murmured to her friends and walked to the far side of the cottage.

  As soon as she cleared the rocking chairs, she realized that the red thing on the ground was a coat. A long, wool coat.

  Jane noticed a dozen details at once. Black leggings. Black boots. Curls of long, dark brown hair. The curve of an elegant neck. The roundness of a cheek. The lack of motion.

  Jane rushed over to the woman and abruptly halted.

  The woman in the red coat lay on her side, facing a waterfall display of picture books.

  Jane stared and stared. She was so focused on the woman that she didn’t hear the Cover Girls tiptoe up behind her.

  “Is she asleep?” someone whispered.

  “She’s not Aurora. She’s more like Red Riding Hood,” Mrs. Pratt murmured. “See the basket for her grandmother by that velvet cushion?”

  No one replied, and suddenly, Storybook Village felt eerily still.

  Eloise tiptoed up to Jane and whispered, “Is she okay?”

  Jane looked back at her friend. Her eyes were dark with fear. “No. She’s dead.”

  Chapter Two

  Jane took out her cell phone and looked at the screen to confirm what she already knew.

  No bars.

  They were in the middle of the woods, which was why her staff members would carry walkie-talkies when Storybook Village opened to the public. Jane didn’t have a walkie. Why would she? She hadn’t expected to find a dead woman on today’s tour.

  “Eloise, can you run back to Sam and have him drive you to Storyton Hall? Find Butterworth and tell him we have a Rip Van Winkle in Belle’s cottage.”

  A question appeared on Eloise’s face, but she didn’t voice it. Instead, she turned on her heel and ran off.

  Jane assumed the question had to do with the Rip Van Winkle reference. Later, if she had the chance, she’d explain that it was code for a guest who’d passed away inside Storyton Hall or on the estate’s grounds. Most hotels had a code name for such incidents, w
hich occurred more often than people realized.

  Mabel and Betty had their arms looped, comforting each other with proximity.

  “Do you know her?” Mabel asked.

  Jane’s gaze swept over the woman’s fair skin and long, dark locks. Her sky-blue eyes, which reflected the ceiling light, were framed with lush lashes. Her lips were full and plump. Too plump. To Jane, they appeared swollen.

  “What a shame. Such a pretty girl,” said Mrs. Pratt.

  Jane was annoyed by the comment. She wanted to swing around and say, “And if she wasn’t pretty? Would it still be a shame that she’s dead?”

  But she knew that Mrs. Pratt was grieved by the young woman’s death. She was saying that the stranger had reached the end of her life too soon. Even in death, she was colorful. There was her bright, red coat. The floral scarf bundled around her neck. The delicate pink blush on her cheeks. Her red nails. Her tawny eye shadow.

  As she studied the woman, Jane noticed the blue tint to her lips. The woman was losing the hues of the living. These subtle shades were slowly ebbing. Soon, her skin would go from creamy white to ashen gray. It was already a bit waxen. Within the hour, she’d no longer look like a grown-up Red Riding Hood. She’d look like a marble statue, stiff and colorless.

  Once again, Jane turned to face her friends. “You need to go back to my place in two waves. Deacon can’t take all of you at once. I’ll wait for the sheriff.” She hesitated before adding, “I’m sorry that you had to see this. It wasn’t how I wanted your magical tour to end.”

  “We’re sorry too,” said Betty. She stepped forward and touched Jane on the shoulder. “For you and for this poor lady. The only consolation I can come up with is that she left this world after seeing this wonderful springtime oasis. Better here than the winter woods.”

  Jane acknowledged Betty’s words with a nod. It was all she could manage because a lump of sorrow had formed in her throat. Part of her grief was for the dead woman, but the rest came from a sudden loss of hope. Jane had begun to believe that Storyton Hall would no longer be the setting for violent crimes. She thought she’d established a good plan—measures to ensure the safety of her children, friends, employees, and guests.