A Spirited Debacle (Midlife is Murder 1.1)(Paranormal Women's Midlife Fiction)

Contents Title Page Copyright --> Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten A Spirited Debacle A Midlife is Murder Paranormal Cozy Mystery Clare Lockhart Apatite Publishing Copyright Copyright © 2021 by Clare Lockhart All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the publisher or author, except in the case of brief excerpts in critical reviews and articles. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, corporations, institutions, organizations, events, or locales in this novel are either the product of the author’s imagination or, if real, used fictitiously. The resemblance of any character to actual persons (living or dead) is entirely coincidental. Clarity Book Cover Designs http://www.claritybookcoverdesigns.com/ A SPIRITED DEBACLE/Clare Lockhart Dear Reader, I want to thank you for reading this book and welcome you back (if you’re read other books in the series) to the Midlife is Murder Paranormal Cozy Mystery Series and to the imaginary small town of Bookend Bay nestled on the sandy shore of Lake Superior. In this series, you’ll meet Quinn Delaney, a newly divorced, amateur sleuth who’s going through a few changes. Some are welcome (an empty-nest and opening of her dream café) and some not so much (a sudden ability to see ghosts, an OCD twin from a parallel universe, and a rash of murders). If you like reading about best friends who find themselves in the odd pickle yet persevere until they’ve caught the bad guys, then you’re in the right place. If it turns out you enjoy spending time with Quinn in Bookend Bay and would like to receive exclusive news and upcoming book release sneak peaks, I invite you to join my newsletter here . If you’d rather not receive my newsletter, but would like to know when a new book is available, you can follow me on Bookbub here or Amazon here . Happy reading! Love and hugs, Clare Chapter One Every morning, as my café filled with customers, I said a silent thank-you to my cheating, ex-husband for claiming my coffee shop would fail miserably. Since I’d rather be locked in a closet with a snake than prove him right, I’d worked my buns off to make Break Thyme a success. So, when my contractor, Ray Dukes, came in the door with a down-turned mouth, I felt a twinge of concern. Don’t tell me there’s something else wrong with the plumbing. He made his way to the counter, set a bejeweled tin box in front of me, and cleared his throat. “I believe this belongs to you, Quinn.” I gazed at him, perplexed. I might be susceptible to the odd peri-menopausal memory lapse, but I’d never seen this box before. Slightly smaller than a shoe box, it looked like a child’s treasure chest, closed with a small padlock. It had probably been shiny blue at one time but was now faded and smudged. Glass stones adorned the corners except for a missing one on the top. “Why do you think this is mine?” He hooked the bottom of a stool with his foot, slid it out, then sat. “Because one of my guys found it in your café when we were renovating. It got put in a bin of ours by mistake. Just found it last night.” I picked up the box and turned it over. No markings. Whatever was inside shifted position, not with a rattle or a clink, but with a soft thunk. It didn’t sound like jewelry. “I’ve never seen this before, Ray. Where did your guy find it?” Break Thyme, my artisan café, had been open for three glorious months. I owed a portion of its success to Ray’s skill in renovating the kitchen and my favorite aspect of the café, the room I called the Cozy Nook. It had been his idea to put in the picture windows, giving the nook a spectacular view of the boundless blue waters of Lake Superior. Ray removed his cap, hooked it over the back of the stool, and rubbed his brown, shining head. “Found it behind the wall in your kitchen when we removed the closet. Might’ve fallen off the top of a vent or something.” “No kidding?” said Poppy, my head barista. She leaned over my shoulder. “That’s exciting. I wonder what’s inside. Oh! Maybe it’s a time capsule hidden away when the place was built.” I tugged on the lock, but it held fast. I couldn’t imagine anything of great value was hidden inside if someone forgot it on top of a vent. “Could be,” said Ray, giving Poppy one of his heartening smiles. “Hey, what happened to your chin?” She gently touched her jaw. With her tawny-brown hair pulled back, there was no hiding the nasty bruise on her pretty face. Poppy’s cheeks flushed lightly. Earlier that morning, when I’d asked her about the bruise, she’d said it was nothing, then quickly changed the subject. We hadn’t been working together long enough for me to feel I could—or had any right to—pry. Still, her well-being concerned me, and I worried over why she was being evasive about it. I don’t know why I envisioned something nefarious had happened. Maybe because of all the mystery novels I read. She had every right to her privacy, and I didn’t want to create any tension between us like I’d done with my son Jordan when I stuck my nose in his marriage. I’d vowed not to poke and pry again. “It’s nothing serious,” she said to Ray. “Just bumped my chin.” She turned her back on us and picked up a whisk, held it for a second, then put it down before wiping her dry hands on a towel. Okay, there was something more to this bruise than she was letting on. Concern sparked in me again. “Excuse me, Ray.” I set down the box and asked Poppy to come into the kitchen for