Spooky Shadows by Jennifer J. Morgan

Author:Jennifer J. Morgan
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: amateur sleuths, strong female protagonist, cozy mystery series, pets in mystery stories, murder mystery series books for adults, mystery series for women, haunted hotel stories
Publisher: Columbine Publishing Group, LLC

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Many participants came running when they heard me scream. They found us still trying to catch our breath—but now, it was because we started laughing hysterically. Shadow was still dismayed, sniffing around the bed and confused as to why we weren’t taking this more seriously.

Greg and Britney were the first ones through the doorway. They looked to the bed and then over at Harold and me.

“What on earth is goin’ on in here,” Britney called out.

We pointed to the ridiculous looking dummy that scared the life out of me.

“Guess we have another dead body?” I cracked up.

“Oh jeez, what’s this about?” Greg walked over and lifted the limp, plastic body.

“Cheryl’s idea of fun, I guess.”

Several other pairs of mystery-goers were standing in the doorway, spilling out into the hallway. Harold noticed something and walked over to where Greg was holding the dummy. He reached out and ripped off a note. A clue! He held it up and read: “warm water runs—”

We heard footfalls now running away from us. Harold yelled out, “The boiler!” and we all joined in on the chase for the next clue.

Now that everyone was learning the clues at the same time, it felt like we were chasing each other around the hotel. Up the stairs, down the hall, in this room, and then over to that one. Back down the stairs—some were wasting time with the elevator, but I wasn’t complaining, it helped us to beat them to the next clue. I couldn’t stop laughing at the sight—like the movie Clue. Colonel Mustard, in the library, with the candlestick. I’d actually loved the board game as a kid and found myself enjoying this mystery weekend more and more. I also discovered that I had a whole different appreciation for my big lug, narcissistic, character brother—by now, I’d learned that he happened to have great humor and we were getting on much better than at the beginning.

The rest of the night flew by as we continued to collect the many clues. Once we were done, Harold and I tried putting our heads together to figure out what they all meant. We overheard several other groups in the ballroom doing the same. Was it the mob who killed Mr. Adler? Or maybe his ex-wife—or girlfriend? Some were sure that he was killed by family, and I even caught the whisperings of a theory that he killed himself. I hadn’t thought of that. In the middle of dinner? Seemed unlikely, but what if?

What we were assured of was by this time tomorrow evening, the final night of Sniper at the Speakeasy, someone would have to come up with the right answer to win.

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