had set up a scenario with a group trapped at a spooky inn for a weekendâ¦in the old Marsden house, the scariest building in their hometown. He couldnât imagine a less inviting inn. Except on Halloween. Tonight it would be just about perfect.
Mick was a real estate agent. Heâd been trying to sell the house for two years, since the former owner had died. But nobody with any common sense would want it. Talk about white elephants. It had needed tons of work a decade agoâ¦he couldnât imagine how the house looked now. âProbably just right for a murder party.â
Mick might be the theatrical one, but Jared was up for a challenge. His cousinâs invitation had been a thinly disguised gauntlet. Since heâd known Jared was supposed to be gone until January, he was daring him to come home to Derryville early.
Derryville. Funny, heâd once considered his hometown a two-stoplight dump, from which heâd longed to escape. Somehow, his feelings had mellowed once heâd built a new life elsewhere. Heâd enjoyed his few trips home over the years, even if he hadnât been able to resolve a few longstanding family issues.
A trill of his cell phone interrupted his thoughts. âHello?â
âJared! I didnât wake you, did I? Not sure what time zone you were in. Moscowâis that ahead of us or behind?â
He recognized the voice of Alice McCoy, his literary agent and friend. âAhead. Eight hours. But itâs okay, Iâve been home almost two days. And Iâve readjusted to all things American, except the tendency to supersize portions of absolutely everything.â He sipped from a Super Big Gulp heâd picked up when stopping to gas up for the trip. âBut Iâm remembering why I like it.â
âWell, Iâm glad youâre back. Weâve got tons to do.â
A truck swerved too close from the other lane, nearly cutting Jared off the road. As he tapped the horn, he hoped his secretarial service had paid up his insurance. They hadnât done much else rightâhadnât even forwarded his damn mail, for weeks.
Alice obviously heard the horn. He could almost hear the muscles of her face pull into a frown. âYouâre in your car.â
She sounded as disapproving as his fourth-grade teacher, whoâd liked to make him write, âI will not make up stories that frighten other children,â a half-million times on the chalkboard.
âYes.â
âWhy arenât you sitting at your desk writing this fabulous new book thatâs going to make you richâ¦er?â
âIâm taking a brief trip. Going to my hometown.â
âHavenât you traveled enough?â
âItâs my favorite holiday. Donât I deserve a break? Iâve been invited to a murder mystery party for Halloween weekend.â
She laughed, her smoky voice thick from decades of cigarettes and expensive bourbon. âRight up your alley, so I guess youâre allowed. Does your family know youâre coming?â
He heard the unasked question. Does your grandfather know youâre coming? âNo.â And it was probably just as well since his relationship with his grandfather had grown decidedly strained over the years. Another reason for accepting Mickâs invitation. It was past time to mend that fence, to fix that broken relationship.
Jared had gotten friendly with a grizzled old Russian lieutenant over the past several months. On Saturday nights, Nicolai liked to drink vodka and reminisce about the family heâd lost because of his obsession with his career. Every word heâd spoken had reminded Jared that it was time to extend an olive branch to his grandfather before it was too late.
âYouâre going to show up unannounced?â She sounded surprised that her reserved client would do something so impulsive.
Yeah, it was slightly out of character, which was what he needed. âActually, Iâm not going to show up unannounced. Miles Stone, the secret agent whoâs a cross between James Bond, Austin Powers and Maxwell Smart is showing up unannounced.â
Another low laugh. âBond I get, given your looks.â
He grinned. It wasnât a compliment. A disgruntled Alice had once told him he was much too good-looking to be taken seriously as a brilliant criminalist.
âAnd I guess you probably like women as much as Powers. But, I gotta tell ya, youâre too young to remember, but Iâm not. Maxwell Smart wasnât the best secret agent in the world.â
âWhich is why my obnoxious cousin mentioned him.â
âGotcha. Is that why you didnât RSVP? To get even?â
âNah. Mick has no idea Iâm back. He knew I was supposed to be overseas until after Christmas. He sent the invitation to taunt me about missing my favorite time of year. Again.â He smiled evilly. âHe deserves to have a guest crash the party.â
âHope he doesnât kick you out of his house.â
âItâs not in his house. The partyâs taking place in the house of my childhood nightmares.â
As expected, the bloodthirsty sixty-year-old, who loved his books, was immediately intrigued. âTell me more.â
After he had, she said, âIs your cousin in the habit of having private parties in the houses heâs got listed for sale?â
Actually, he didnât imagine Mick would give something like that a second thought. âThe house is in trust with a lawyer. Iâm sure he got permission.â Since he and Mick hadnât spoken in ages, Jared didnât know how heâd finagled the use of the house for the weekend. But heâd bet there was some back-scratching involved.
In Derryville, back-scratching was involved in every deal. From which fireman would drive the big rig for the Labor Day parade, to who got to flip the switch for the Christmas tree in town square, Derryville was a microcosm of the good old American barter system. It didnât trade in goodsâ¦just favors.
God, it all sounded so appealing. The very sameness, the normalcy that had made him long to escape years ago was exactly the balm his battered spirits needed right now. Home. It was so blissfully, soul-soothingly simple. Easygoing and peaceful. Exactly what he needed after a year of crazy but wonderful Russian cops, and just plain crazy criminals. Which is exactly what had made him decide to accept his cousinâs invitation.
He could hardly wait for the weekend to begin.
âHURRY HOME NOW. Itâs after nine. Chief Stockton wonât want to see any ghosts and goblins on the street so late.â
Gwen Compton waved at one last straggling group of trick-or-treaters as they skipped across her front lawn. They laughed and yelled, kicking crunchy brown leaves out of the way in their haste to make it to just one more house before heading home.
The
