Masks

E. F. Townsend Masks A Tori Hartley Mystery Copyright © 2023 by E. F. Townsend All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise without written permission from the publisher. It is illegal to copy this book, post it to a website, or distribute it by any other means without permission. This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental. E. F. Townsend asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work. Designations used by companies to distinguish their products are often claimed as trademarks. All brand names and product names used in this book and on its cover are trade names, service marks, trademarks and registered trademarks of their respective owners. The publishers and the book are not associated with any product or vendor mentioned in this book. None of the companies referenced within the book have endorsed the book. First edition Editing by Allister ThompsonCover art by Jerry Todd This book was professionally typeset on ReedsyFind out more at reedsy.com To Charlie and Tina Mattingly. Thank you for the unforgettable nights in Waverly Hills. ONE Tori Hartley’s new shop sat on the very edge of the historic district of Old Louisville. It was on a street where the old met the new: old neighborhoods abutted the modern; brick streets met paved, and tree-lined avenues gave way to concrete and glass buildings. Her own street boasted numerous old mansions of the Belle Époque’s glorious days, each one lovingly built by craftsmen’s hands and solidly made to outlive their own century and the next. Some of the facades were freshly painted, while others were chipping away into faded neglect with their lawns long gone to seed and spilling over onto the uneven sidewalks. Huge oaks lined the road on each side, and their overspreading limbs were in the full leaf of early May. Directly across the street from Tori’s shop was an imposing brick building that housed a women’s college. It had four white pillars across the front that were the height of the four-story building and held up a white gable with a round window set in the center. The building sat on a green knoll studded with trees that swept away from the building and ended at the road. Tori was busying herself in her shop as she settled into her new surroundings. The opening of her new antique business was less than a week away, and she felt like she had a month’s worth of work to do in that short time. Her shop was really an old house that had been converted to a large, open area by tearing out walls and expanding rooms, but it still retained its old-world charm. The previous owners had left the worn and marked-up plank floors, and all the windows were original to the house. “You’re going to have a terrible time heating and cooling this place,” her friend Emma had warned her, but in Tori’s single-minded way, she plowed ahead anyway. When Tori’s heart was set on something it was nearly impossible to divert her from what she wanted. A friend of a friend had told her the building had come on the market at a bargain price. At first, she thought it was too good to be true and approached the property with healthy skepticism, but as soon as she saw the building she was in love — inefficient windows and all — and dragged Emma away from her bed and breakfast to see it. Emma was tall and graceful, with soft, brown hair that came down to her shoulders. Tori was slight and short compared to her, but Tori secretly thought that her own pretty curves more than made up for her lack of height. “I don’t know why you think you need my opinion,” Emma said wearily. “I can tell by that look in your eyes that you’ve already decided to buy the place.” Tori, in fact, did feel a smile spreading from ear to ear. In her eyes, the house was perfect, and Tori, being a lover of anything old-fashioned, jumped in with her whole heart and soul. “Tori,” Emma said, chuckling, “you look like a ten-year-old getting ready for her birthday party.” Tori threw her arms around her friend and hugged her tightly. “It’s because I’m so happy! I found exactly what I’m looking for, and it wants me here! I can feel it.” “All right, you foolish, crazy dear. I just hope you haven’t gotten yourself into a building that’s going to eat your wallet and your soul alive.” Tori stepped back. “It’s not going to eat me alive.” Emma patted her cheek and smiled. “I just don’t want you to be disappointed,” she said. “Believe me, I know.” Emma owned a mansion on St. James Court in the historic district. Bellefonte, her bed and breakfast, was also an old house, and Emma knew all about the issues that came with owning one. She had once told Tori that some months the water bill alone was as much as the mortgage. Tori put her arm through Emma’s and showed her around the house, from the basement all the way up to the spooky, dusty attic above the third floor. When they came back downstairs Emma said, “This place suits you, Tori, and you have plenty of room. Do you think you’ll bring in other dealers?” Tori swept a long lock of her dark, red hair behind her ear and said, “Probably. I have to make this work. No matter what it takes.” Emma gave Tori a silent, knowing look. Tori’s first, dear little shop had been set on fire and in less than an hour was reduced to an empty shell of