For Halloween 2024 (only a day late)

Kaitlyn Dunnett/Kathy Lynn Emerson here on the first of November with a belated Halloween post. In keeping with our offerings of scary scenes from our books, mine comes from the seventh Liss MacCrimmon mystery, VAMPIRES, BONES, AND TREACLE SCONES. Liss MacCrimmon Ruskin, owner of Moosetookalook Scottish Emporium, is in charge of the Halloween festivities in her home town of Moosetookalook, Maine. Originally published by Kensington Books in hardcover, paperback, and e-book, and also available in large print, in this entry in the series newlyweds Liss and Dan and their friends are attempting to turn an abandoned house into a haunted mansion as a fundraiser. Minor mishaps and objects that mysteriously vanish only to reappear somewhere else seem like harmless pranks at first, but the game turns deadly when a skeleton Liss acquires for a special effect is replaced by the very real body. The reviewer for Publishers Weekly said that “cozy fans are in for a Halloween treat” and in the opinion of RT, this was “a solid addition” to a “charming series set in small-town Maine.”

Anyway, without further ado, here is my contribution to Maine Crime Writers’ scary scenes:

            Without waiting for Dan to join her, Liss headed for the parlor, which was designated as the first stop on the tour. The skeleton had worked perfectly the previous day, but the key to a successful performance was attention to detail. Check and double check—that had been the rule the stage manager of her former dance company had lived by. That simple philosophy had prevented theatrical disaster on more than one occasion.

            “Showtime,” she whispered as she opened the door from the hall.

            The eerie greenish illumination she’d installed came on as it was designed to, but the skeleton failed to sit up. Napoleon Bony-Parts remained in an immobile heap.

            Liss squinted in the murky glow, unable to make out much more than a vague shape lying on the sofa. She wondered why the plaster bones weren’t reflecting the green light. They weren’t florescent, but they ought to show up better than they were.

            Glad she’d brought at flashlight with her, she switched it on and at once swung the beam upward to check on the pulley. One end of the wire hung down, unattached and useless. Liss swore under her breath. “Damn mice.”

            She redirected the beam, aiming it at the sofa, and gasped.

            The skeleton was gone. In it’s place was one of the manikins. It lay sprawled in an ungainly pose on the sofa and someone had painted two bloody puncture marks on its neck, turning it into a “vampire victim.” Fake blood had even been dribbled down the side of the brocade cushions to puddle on the floor.

            Annoyed that someone had messed with her set piece, Liss’s first thought was that she needed to search the room for the skeleton. The eerie, pulsing green lighting effect made it difficult for her to identify even the most common objects. The parlor organ looked positively sinister.

            “Dan!” she shouted as she played her flashlight beam in a haphazard fashion over walls and furniture. Was that more fake blood? “The prankster got inside again!”

            She had to find Bony-Parts. She had enough time to reset this scene and return the manikin to the dining room, but only just, and only if she could locate the skeleton quickly.

            There! Behind the sofa. She hurried toward the spot, irritated by the way the bones had been so carelessly dumped.

            It was only when Liss bent down to examine the skeleton for damage that she realized she’d gotten it all wrong. She caught a sickening whiff of an odor she’d hoped she’d never have to smell again. The reek of death was both unmistakable . . . and terrifying.

            She jerked upright and, for the first time, her flashlight beam shone directly on the face of the manikin.

            Bile rose in Liss’s throat. Her knees went weak, forcing her to grip the back of the sofa to keep from falling. What lay there was not a manikin. It was a man. A very dead man. The red marks on his neck weren’t fake blood. The gore was all too real.

            But that wasn’t the worst of it.

            The worst of it was that she knew him.

Kathy Lynn Emerson/Kaitlyn Dunnett has had sixty-four books traditionally published and has self published others. She won the Agatha Award and was an Anthony and Macavity finalist for best mystery nonfiction of 2008 for How to Write Killer Historical Mysteries and was an Agatha Award finalist in 2015 in the best mystery short story category. In 2023 she won the Lea Wait Award for “excellence and achievement” from the Maine Writers and Publishers Alliance. She was the Malice Domestic Guest of Honor in 2014. She is currently working on creating new omnibus e-book editions of her backlist titles. Her website is www.KathyLynnEmerson.com.