by Zoey Kane
Zoey and Claire stopped to check out the progress on the old elevator shaft. New plywood framed its intricately designed brass caging. It gleamed with happiness, ready for riders. In memorial, a bouquet of lavender replaced Robert’s remains.
After a moment of reverence, Zoey said to her daughter, “What do you say about us finally going up to revisit the surveillance room?”
“Ugh,” Claire said, putting her hands on her hips. “I hate that place. Maybe we can toss a Molotov cocktail in there instead.”
“We need to do a more thorough clean-up and let the crew inspect,” Zoey reasoned.
“I know you’re right.” Claire looped a thumb in her jeans’ pocket, hesitating. “I guess there’s no time like now.”
On their way to the stairs, a cute construction worker in nicely-fitted jeans walked by with a ladder. “You.” Zoey motioned with a smile.
The man paused his steps. “Yeah?”
“We’re going to need your help up on the third level.”
As they followed him up, Claire took a moment to eye her mother. Zoey smiled slyly in return and resumed enjoying the view. They let him do the honors of opening the door to the surveillance room, letting them in. The small TVs were still there, stacked on top of each other in rows. At least the ammonia stench had left, since Theona had insisted on helping in that way.
Claire said to their handsome helper, “Can you please start unplugging all of these, and get them outta here? Donate them to Valery Dabberline, for all I care. She’ll make use of them.”
Zoey chuckled.
The man got to work. Pretty soon the long table was almost bare, drawing the ladies’ attention to the MerriWeather ship’s picture and its shattered frame. Claire gently picked it up, sending small shards tinkling against the tabletop. “Maybe this wasn’t the picture that Robert brought by the day he was shot.” She turned it over and eyed the brown, torn backing.
“Maybe. All other pictures had oval frames, however, going along with the Victorian theme of this place.” Zoey stepped beside her daughter to look. “This was the only rectangular one. Take the picture out of there,” she said, plucking away a large shard.
Claire gently worked at removing the old backing. After a layer of brown paper, a couple yellowish-tinted layers came into view. Upon pulling back a corner of them, her eyes went wide. “I think we’ve found the treasure.”
“What is it?” Zoey asked. “Sheet music?”
“Yes,” Claire said, sliding the papers all the way out. “Read the signature.”
“Ludwig van Beethoven.” Zoey’s eyes went wide.
EPILOGUE
What’s happened since what the Kanes refer to as A Ghostly Dare.
The Gothic Victorian is now a beautiful bed and breakfast called Victory Estate. It hosts many travelers daily. The top floor is reserved for Zoey and Claire, whenever they come into town with their special friends.
Penny bought her own mansion, move-in ready. The desire to one-up Zoey has faded… somewhat.
On her night out with Valery, B.B. had snuck away from the bar and eloped with Jeb. She appeared on Penny’s doorstep with “the hubs” a week later, asking for her thousand dollars dare money. It was all the difference she needed for a down payment on an upscale restaurant.
Jeb is happy to have found love. Trusting the advice of his new wife, he signed a contract to ensure that he’s never tempted to sing at his restaurant ever.
Gavier is teaching both Psychology and The Anatomy of the Brain at an Ivy League college. He spends his weekends teaching BonBon how to ride a pony. He has particularly instructed her in the art of shoveling horse dung out of the stable. This requires her to have lots of practice.
Darla has a gallery exhibit of modern art pieces. She’s also become a very high-paid, popular model—for abstract art. At one time, she shaved her chin and lost a lot of customers.
Aloise has gone into business with Porsha, holding séances for the very rich. Aloise has also got a new dog she’s named Chester.
It’s rumored Uncle Spike sold his ranch and slaughter house and has taken up riding with the Switchblades Biker Club.
Theona will continue residing at Victory Estate, where she said she’d be happiest.
Milo is the pet of the estate. Various perches were put around the Victorian for him to people-watch and talk to guests.
At a large old tree, with a weathered old swing, is a plaque memorializing Mavis Mervel and Robert Fitsgerald, two lovers who stayed faithful in this life and after.
The end.
(Read on for a note from the authors, as well as sample chapters from the first story in
Z & C Mysteries, The Riddles of Hillgate.)
Dear reader:
Hello, so you’ve come to the end of the book! Did you have as much fun as we did? We certainly hope so. Thank you for reading! If you enjoyed this mystery, we’d be delighted if you’d review it. Positive reviews help us gain advertising and exposure, thus allowing us to continue Z & C Mysteries.
Warmest regards,
Zoey and Claire Kane
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Website: zoeyandclaire.blogspot.com
Publisher’s website: breezyreads.com
Facebook: fb.me/zoeyandclaire
Twitter: @Zoey_Claire
EMAIL: [email protected]
About the Authors:
Claire Kane is an avid reader and writer who enjoys going on zany adventures with her eccentric mother. She’s a connoisseur of classic fashion statements, craves a good root beer float, and always eats with her mouth closed. And she, of course, has a weak spot for murder mysteries.
Zoey has dabbled in modeling, is a licensed real-estate agent, seeks treasures (great and small), and is often underestimated.
Together, Zoey and Claire are a mother-daughter mystery-solving duo. During their downtime, they dream of island men whisking them away.
Also by Zoey and/or Claire Kane
Z & C Mysteries:
The Riddles of Hillgate
Cruise to Murder
Hexes and X’s
Legend of The Lost
A Grave Situation
The Howliday Inn
A Ghostly Dare
What The Dead Said
The Dead Ex Files:
Heaven Must Wait
A Model Murder
A Charli Chan Mystery:
A Yen for Murder
Lights, Camera, Murder
The Menopause Murder Society:
The Demise of The Lotto Queen
The Revenge of Pooky Poo
Clean Paranormal Romance:
To Catch a Fox
To read the first chapters to The Riddles of Hillgate, continue on. In the meantime, you can peruse these books from some of our friends:
Conjuring Quantico by TS Paul
“Agatha, snap the hell out of it! It’s not your fault this time. How were you to know they were behind you?”
“Fergus, I should have checked. Magnus always said to cast a reveal spell before attempting any diagnostic of any kind. I didn’t do one first!”
“Magnus? Which one was he?”
“He was the first trainer, remember, the one with the funny white hair?”
“Are you sure he wasn’t the one with the hooked nose?”
“No, that was Erik. He was the German one. Magnus was the guy with the funny accent who always called me Missy.”
“I think you’re wrong. The Missy guy was the Texan. Mannerly or something like that. He didn’t stay very long.”
That is the problem right there. The FBI only had mercenaries on staff. The Witch Council had promised the FBI that they would send trainers to fix my magical problem as part of the deal that allowed me to join.
I kept breaking them.
They gave me conflicting instructions or approached my problem the wrong way. None of them were actually injured; well, except that one guy. Brady something. How was I to know the bridge by the h
ighway had an actual troll living under it? I have to agree with Fergus though. He did look pretty funny being chased across the front lawn by a large hairy beast.
My magic is broken. I can do little stuff, but anytime I try a large spell or something off-the-cuff, there is a fifty-fifty chance of something unusual happening. That is what happened today.
“Agatha, cast the spell exactly as I have written.”
“But, Sir. Shouldn’t I cast a reveal spell first? I really should check first.”
“Young lady! You will do as I have asked or I will tell the Witch Council you are refusing to cooperate. Now do as I say! Cast the spell.”
The instructor’s name was Montgomery. Not Monte and definitely not Gomer. He resembled that old guy from the first Dinosaur movie. The one about the theme park.
“OK, Montgomery. Here goes.” I cast my first diagnostic spell. It was supposed to examine the crime scene and identify any magical traces. The effect was that each foreign trace would light up and glow. It was pretty cool when he did it. I glanced at my cheat sheet and began the spell. It must have been either my pronunciation or a hand motion but something was wrong.
“Stop! Stop! You must stop! Stupid girl!” Stupid him. I was committed and had to finish the spell, even he knew that.
As I said the last word, a bright flash of light lit the field up and I heard a sound behind me that was a cross between a grunt and a screech. “Uh, oh.”
I spun around just in time to see what looked like a large rabbit hop by. The animal was twice the size of a normal rabbit but now had antlers.
Buy the book here.
Paladin by Paul C. Middleton
He found the door to the yard open and could smell the inhuman nature of the creature, a smell which was an odd combination of smoke, lust and power. Whatever it looked like, it wasn't and never had been human. He saw a figure jump the six foot wooden fence so he ran after it. Rather than bothering to jump the vertical wooden fence he simply turned his shoulder into it and broke through. With the sharp crack of shattering timbers he was through it easily.
Within a minute he had closed enough to keep it in sight and within ten minutes he caught up to the devilspawn. He could see why the Archdioceses’, Catholic and Anglican, had become involved. Her human form was stunning. Not that it affected him. He'd hunted her kind before.
When he saw the succubus trip over rock that lifted slightly above the rest of the fairly level ground and sprawl across it, he paused and decided to lower the risk to his men. Few of them would be able to resist its beauty if they got close enough. At best they would yell at him to stop and be disturbed at the seductress’s death. At worst they might turn on him if it was powerful enough and he wished them no harm "Soldier team move to contain area. This one is a Succubus type. Repeat contain at 100 feet or more." He heard the six acknowledgments and continued on toward it.
Buy the book here.
Dog’s Run by Nick Russell
Life is good in Elmhurst, Ohio. The war is over, the economy is booming, and the future looks bright. But just across the deep ravine known as Dog’s Run is a different life, one where times are always hard and dreams seldom come true. When Wanda Jean Reider, a beautiful young woman from the wrong side of town, is found dead in Dog’s Run secrets begin to come out. Secrets that will expose hidden sins and a dark side of life carried on behind the manicured lawns and inside the back rooms of the stores along Main Street. Secrets that will erupt in violence and lead to a showdown that will change the lives of some of Elmhurst’s best known citizens forever.
Nick Russell, New York Times Kindle bestselling author of the Big Lake mystery series, weaves a tale of intrigue, lust, and broken dreams that you will remember long after you finish the last page. One early reviewer said of Dog’s Run, “It’s gut-wrenching, fast-paced, sometimes crude, brutally honest, and often sad. It is also Nick Russell’s finest writing to date. Well done!"
Buy the book here.
Elina by M. Garzon
The prequel to the popular Blaze of Glory trilogy.
A mother will always do what’s best for her children… even if it means giving up her own chance at happiness.
A decade ago, Elina’s life was derailed by a smooth-talking charmer. Since then she's toiled endlessly to create a better life for her children, putting thoughts of romantic love aside. But when handsome, intimidating Declan wins her over with his timely help and old-fashioned notions of love, Elina has a decision to make. Her long-awaited financial success requires a move to Montreal, a city too far away to keep new love alive, and Declan runs his family’s equestrian business – he can’t move. How can Elina find happiness when her heart is pulling her one way and her children’s futures are pulling in another?
Discover the story behind the Blaze of Glory trilogy readers have come to love. You don’t know everything about a man until you know his history.
Buy the book here.
THE RIDDLES OF HILLGATE (SAMPLE CHAPTERS 1 – 4)
ONE
Rain slammed against the windshield as lightning tore at the sky. It was already difficult enough seeing the little street signs, some missing, to have to deal with a major downpour.
“Turn right at Azalea Road, a quarter-mile away,” the GPS spoke in a blasé tone, as if Claire didn’t have to fight the forces of nature just to get there.
Claire knew she should probably ease up on the gas, under the circumstances, but instead turned her wipers up to the max. They slashed back and forth like machetes in a jungle, clearing her sights for a fraction of a second. After driving what she was sure to be at least a quarter of a mile, she started to panic. No Azalea.
A U-turn was the only option at this point. Azalea had to be there. Her little navigator friend, sitting nonchalantly on the dash, was never wrong. Claire turned her wheel to the left and when she was headed straight in the opposite direction, she accelerated hard. The car skidded and swiveled. With no time to even correct, she screamed as the car bounced hard. The airbag burst, and suddenly, it was over.
Finding herself alive and unharmed, Claire pushed the airbag out of the way, and glanced out the window to discover her car buried nose-first in a ditch. But of course. What small town doesn't have random ditches at the side of the road? Deflating, Claire wondered how much this little accident was going to cost her.
*
Meanwhile, down Azalea Road, menacing clouds shook Zoey Kane’s little home with huge thunderclaps. Standing, she gazed thoughtfully at the sheets of rain the storm threw fiercely against her bedroom windows. Tonight’s downpour was especially exciting. She’d never known storms like this before moving to Riverside, Indiana. Her ex-husband, still residing on the west coast, would be duly impressed. Come to think of it, the same would go for all three of her exes.
Turning away from the window, Zoey sighed, before taking out her dime-size cubic zirconia earrings. “You had no date tonight, anyway, love,” she said, setting them on the 1930s vanity she’d won by the skin of her teeth at the auction. Though it was a heroic deal, no one in Riverside could ever truly understand. She once made the mistake of telling her manicurist about a past purchase, having been met with a pop of bubblegum and an “Are we going red or pink today?”
Such is life. The small town had enough perks in spite of that. It was always so green and so lush, the neighborhoods were classically charming, and the buffets—oh, the buffets—were to die for.
Zoey’s eyes swept to the framed picture of her younger self, smiling beside a brown-eyed girl making a silly face. Claire. What a doll she was. Still is, she thought. When was the last time they saw each other, anyway? Two Christmases ago? Yes. “The Magazine” kept her girl occupied more than ever before. It was a shame, really.
At least rainstorms could be comforting. Zoey exited her bedroom as lightning lit up her home, carrying a warm cup of Ovaltine. She headed to the living room, where, by habit, she picked the classifieds section to the Riverside Bugle off her table, and settled down on
her sofa.
Taking a sip of her warm beverage, Zoey marveled at how the weather had been decent that afternoon while showing houses. Being a real estate agent was no promise of security, but still she sat with a thrill in her heart. She had just taken a very big chance on a property, even taking out a mortgage on her home and a couple of rentals. The loan officer called it a “speculation purchase” rather than an investment, and those in the industry know what that means. Zoey didn’t care if it was looked down upon; her gut was telling her she was right this time.
The doorbell suddenly rang. “Oh, dear!” she yelped with a start. No one was expected this evening. Could it be some man, deciding to brave the elements to see her? Just in case, she wrapped her silk robe tighter and fluffed her hair on the way to the door.
Halfway there, she turned back to deliberately flip the newspaper to a different page. With caution, she approached the now banging sound of a fist. Pretty aggressive, even for one of her dates. She imagined a fireman on the other side, a smudge of ash across one cheekbone, hair falling over smoldering eyes, bulging biceps ready to swoop her over his shoulder and carry her away.
“Oh, yeah. No fire tonight,” she said, letting the truth dash her hopes. “It’s raining.”
Well then, she wondered with a chill, who could it be? Peeking through the peephole, she tried sizing up the shadowed figure standing on her doorstep.
Ding dong! the doorbell rang again, making her jump.
“Mom! Open up!”
