Eat, Drink, and Be Scary (A Ravenmist Whodunit Paranormal Cozy Mystery Book 1) Read online

  Eat, Drink, and Be Scary

  A Ravenmist Whodunnit

  Book One

  By Olivia Jaymes

  www.OliviaJaymes.com

  EAT, DRINK, AND BE SCARY

  Copyright © 2019 by Olivia Jaymes

  Kindle Edition

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.

  All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  About the Book

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  About the Author

  Eat, Drink, and Be Scary

  Welcome to Ravenmist! A tiny Midwestern town with charming covered bridges, quirky residents, delightful antique shops, and more than their share of haunted activity.

  It’s time for the annual Fall Festival, and that means the quaint Ravenmist Inn – owned by Theodosia “Tedi” Hamilton – is filled to the brim with out of town guests. It’s her favorite time of the year with all the spooky decorations, sugar-filled candy, and over the top costumes.

  The festival doesn’t quite go as planned, however, when one of her guests is found face down in the apple bob. To make things worse, her best friend becomes the number one suspect. Tedi has no choice but to spring into action.

  Come join the spirited antics as Tedi deals with an unsolved murder, a shy ghost in her closet, a mischievous spirit in the bookstore, and the handsome new local sheriff who drives her crazy. You see, he thinks all the ghost stories are made up for the tourists. But Tedi knows better, and now so will you…

  Chapter One

  The next twenty-four hours were going to suck. There was no avoiding this fact. I’d been through this four times before, so at least I knew what to expect. Mayhem. Complete and total, not just a little bit. The whole town of Ravenmist was in chaos because it was the weekend of the annual fall festival, scheduled just a week before Halloween.

  In Ravenmist, Halloween just might be the most important day of the year. It was certainly the most fun.

  Before we get too far, I should probably introduce myself. My name is Tedi Hamilton and I own the Ravenmist Inn, which has been in my father’s family for generations. It’s a large, rambling Victorian with several buildings on the property that had been painstakingly cared for over the years. My grandmother Rose used to run it and now I do.

  Nice to meet you. Glad you stopped by.

  Tedi is short for Theodosia by the way, but only my mother calls me that. When she’s really ticked off at me she’ll call me by my whole name, which is Theodosia Elizabeth Virginia Evans Hamilton. I’m pretty sure my Southern born and bred mother would have named me Scarlett if she thought she could get away with it, but she did saddle me with Theodosia. Luckily my father, a no-nonsense Midwesterner, immediately dubbed me Tedi and a nickname was born.

  I needed an industrial strength cup of coffee and a cruller more than I needed to breathe. Unfortunately, I wasn’t going to get either until I dealt with the angry man on the other side of the front desk of my inn. Customer service is so rewarding.

  “I have a reservation,” the middle-aged man snarled, his face getting red. He slapped his hand on the counter, the sunlight catching on his expensive gold and diamond watch and sending a blinding flash into my eyes. While some people might have gone for class and taste, this timepiece seemed more like a monument to wealth. In other words, it was ugly. A big chunk of precious metal on display. “I want to go up to my room now. I have work to do.”

  “I understand that, sir,” I replied in my most soothing tone. Missy was going to be so proud of how I’d kept my temper. She was always encouraging me to chill out and relax. I did like to kick back but it was usually with an old movie and a glass of wine. “But check-in time is three in the afternoon. It is currently nine-thirty in the morning. The people in your room are still asleep or eating breakfast. They have until eleven to check out. I can take your bags and store them until check-in time while you spend the day seeing the beautiful sights of Ravenmist.”

  My soon to be guest was not amused, nor was he soothed by my tone of voice. I might have to bring out the big guns if he didn’t quiet down. The Ravenmist Inn prided itself on being a haven from the hustle and bustle of the regular world. We were also proud of our haunted history, but that’s a story for later.

  The couple standing behind him stepped forward, the man nudging Mr. Entitlement’s shoulder. “Just let it go, Jerry. It’ll be fine. We’ll walk around town and get something to eat.”

  The irate guest shot a quelling look over his shoulder. “I’ll handle this, Roger. These people simply don’t know how to run a business.”

  I hated to break it to this guy, but the Ravenmist Inn had been in business for over a hundred and fifty years and would probably be here a hundred and fifty years after both he and I were gone.

  “My name is Jerome Bergstrom and my secretary made these reservations. She didn’t tell me about any check-in time. And I don’t want to walk around this backwater dot on the map. I want to work, so get me a room right now.”

  This was the third time good ol’ Jerome had told me his name so it was deeply imprinted on my brain at this point. He didn’t need to repeat it again and frankly, I didn’t want him to. As for his poor secretary, whatever he was paying her it clearly wasn’t enough.

  Jerome was destined to be furious and unhappy because there was nothing I could do for him. He’d shown up hours early and his room simply wasn’t available. I was funny and sarcastic but I wasn’t a witch. I couldn’t conjure a room out of thin air. If he didn’t like it he was welcome to go elsewhere. On the busiest weekend of the year, I could rent his room ten times over without breaking a sweat.

  “There are no rooms to put you in, Mr. Bergstrom.” Inwardly I counted to ten to try and quell my own growing impatience. “You have two choices. You can wait until three or you can take your business elsewhere. Let me know what you want to do.”

  I said it as sweetly as possible but I stood my ground. I wasn’t going to be a pushover for some guy with too much money and too little sense from the big city. I’d lived in Chicago long enough to know how these guys operated.

  I waited for Jerome’s head to explode in my tiny lobby, making a big mess that one of my staff would have to clean up, but the woman he was with pushed him aside and muttered something under her breath that I couldn’t make out but sounded suspiciously like the words let me handle this.

  The attractive middle-aged woman gave me a wide smile. “I’m
Lorna Bergstrom and these are our friends Roger and Cherie Mullaney. We’re all here for the festival. Please let me apologize for my husband. He’s been under a great deal of stress these days. Of course, we’re happy to wait until you have a room ready. Do you think it might be before three o’clock?”

  It was possible. Anything was possible.

  “I can’t promise but I can try. It definitely won’t be until after lunch.”

  The blond smiling man who had spoken before – whom I now knew was Roger Mullaney – stepped forward to the counter. His pretty wife hovered in the background, her expression anxious. “That’s fine. We’re early and of course it takes time to get our rooms ready. Please let me leave my phone number with you.”

  Mr. Mullaney slipped his business card across the desk and I quickly pocketed it.

  A tall body hovered just behind the Bergstroms and I felt myself tense slightly. I knew who it was and he wasn’t here to compliment the decor or to partake in the famous Ravenmist Inn waffles.

  He’d only stopped by for one reason. Because he had a problem with something. He’d have to wait his turn. Jerome was trying to protest but his wife kept telling him to hush up.

  Gosh, I miss being married sometimes.

  That was sarcasm, by the way.

  Tired of dealing with the couple, I slapped Jerome’s credit card into the hand of my assistant Janie. “Please run this and get them checked in. Alan, can you take their bags and lock them in the storeroom, please?”

  Both Janie and Alan leaped into action and I finally turned my attention to the glowering man in my peripheral vision.

  Jackson Garrett. The new sheriff of Ravenmist, formerly of the Chicago PD. He was quickly becoming a thorn in my side about this festival. From the dark expression on his face today wasn’t going to be any better than yesterday. Or the day before that.

  “I’m very busy, Sheriff, so can you make this quick?”

  “No.”

  Where in the heck was my coffee? No way was I dealing with him without a huge dose of caffeine.

  “It’s a fire hazard,” the sheriff argued as he surveyed the back area of the inn. I had to admit that my staff had outdone themselves this year with the decorations. Spooky didn’t even begin to describe what they – and myself – had achieved. “You can’t have a bonfire. Someone could get hurt.”

  I didn’t really have time for this. There were a million things on my to do list and not one of them was get hassled by the sheriff.

  “The town of Ravenmist has had a bonfire on Fall Festival night for at least eighty years, if not more. Now you can be part of that long and proud tradition, Sheriff.”

  “It’s dangerous.”

  “It’s tradition. No one has been hurt in all that time.”

  “Then you’re far overdue for something bad to happen.”

  Somebody’s glass was only half full. He needed to lighten up.

  “You’re not exactly an optimist, are you? I think we’re going to keep the bonfire. Alvin Hailey is in charge of it every year. He knows what he’s doing.”

  “Alvin Hailey lives in his parents’ basement and thinks the government is listening in to his conversations.”

  “For all we know they’re listening to all of us, so choose your words carefully. Seriously, he might have a persecution complex but he does know what he’s doing with the bonfire.”

  The sheriff scraped his hand down his red face. The townsfolk were always going on and on about how good-looking he was with his broad shoulders and dark hair. I liked blonds better, and those shoulders blocked out the sunshine.

  “You don’t have a permit.”

  “Unless the laws have changed in the last half hour, I don’t need a permit. Can we move on? What else do you hate?”

  He hated everything. I’d never seen a man dislike fun as much as he did.

  He pointed to the patio area where there were about two dozen tables set up by a long buffet. Black tablecloths, spider webs stretched across and between the chairs. Each table was adorned with fake spiders, plastic bloody hands, and a grinning jack-o-lantern in the center that would light up after dark. The buffet was draped in orange and purple lights and flashing skulls were placed strategically along its surface. The whole section was covered with a leafy trellis but I’d gone whole hog here too, adding lights, witches, and pumpkins. The theme of the festival was autumn but the party tonight was pure Halloween. Did I mention that it was a costume party? Consider yourself cordially invited.

  “You hate food and drink?”

  He heaved out a great put-upon sigh. “No, I hate the bobbing for apples game. That’s a drowning hazard just waiting to happen. Some kid is going to have to be revived with CPR. I guarantee it.”

  Ah, the bobbing for apples game was located at the far corner of the patio and was mostly for show. Not too many people wanted to mess up their hair, makeup, or costumes just to win a small keychain.

  My best friend Missy was in charge of setting the game up this afternoon and she’d done a terrific job. It was roped off with black and orange plastic streamers decorated with fake autumn leaves. She’d asked me for a glue gun earlier so I think that’s how she’d attached them, although I might have recommended a stapler. She’d also draped some green twinkle lights around the area so that no one was going to miss the giant metal tub of apples up on a pedestal.

  “We don’t have many takers on the game. It’s mostly for show, like the feats of strength sledgehammer game in the garden. How about if we put up a sign that it’s for adults only? Will that make you happy?”

  Garrett appeared shocked that I’d given in. His brows rose almost to his hairline and he didn’t answer right away.

  “I guess that would be okay. Someone will be watching it the whole time?”

  “Missy says that her volunteer sign-up sheet is full so the answer is yes.”

  His gaze was running over the set-up, taking in all the decorations. “Do you have any trouble getting volunteers to work the festival?”

  “No, they always want the t-shirt that Missy designs. You can’t buy them. You can only get them if you volunteer.”

  “A t-shirt is that valuable?”

  “Wait until you see the t-shirts. Missy is a design genius. Are we done now?”

  Hope always springs eternal but I knew the answer was no. He shook his head just as someone cleared their throat behind me. I turned and Lorna Bergstrom was standing there, a nervous smile on her face.

  “Hi, how can I help you?”

  The woman cleared her throat again, her hands wrung together. “I just wanted to apologize for my husband’s behavior earlier. He gets like that sometimes.”

  “Thank you but it’s fine,” I replied. This woman shouldn’t have to apologize for her husband’s actions. His jerk behavior shouldn’t reflect on her. She was probably a perfectly nice person. “Did your luggage get taken care of?”

  “It did, thank you. I just really wanted to say I was sorry.” She looked away, her lips tightening. “My mother told me not to marry him. I should have listened to her. He’s a…difficult man. Even his own children don’t want to be around him.”

  How charming.

  “It’s fine,” I assured her. I’d been harassed by much worse guests, including one man who had threatened me with a meat cleaver. Luckily, the former sheriff had been having lunch in my dining room and tackled the guest to the floor. “I hope you both can relax and enjoy yourselves while you’re here. The festival is truly wonderful.”

  Lorna smiled, glancing over her shoulder to where her friends hovered several feet away. Roger Mullaney was scrolling through his phone while his wife Cherie looked decidedly bored. City people who had fooled themselves into thinking they’d enjoy a weekend in a small town.

  “I’m looking forward to it. I better go, though. Jerry is off the phone now. We’re going to try and take him to look into some of the antique shops. He’ll hate it, though. He hates everything.”

  Marital bliss. I wou
ld never partake of that ever again. Once was enough.

  The woman hurried away, leaving me with Garrett who still had a laundry list of complaints that we needed to go through. I checked my watch and tapped the crystal with my fingernail.

  “You have ten more minutes to complain and then I need to get back to work.”

  “Fine. You can’t have people swinging a sledgehammer all over the place. Someone is going to get hurt.” He pulled a piece of paper from his shirt pocket. “I have a few more items on this list as well. I need to talk to the town council about all of this at the next meeting. I think we need to put some rules and regulations in place.”

  “Maybe the spirits of Ravenmist’s past keep us safe.”

  I’d often wondered why none of the things Garrett had suggested had ever happened.

  “Or maybe you’ve just been lucky. Now let’s talk about that sledgehammer.”

  I guess our new sheriff didn’t believe in ghosts. He’d come to the wrong town. Ravenmist was absolutely one hundred percent haunted.

  Chapter Two

  I’ve mentioned my friend Missy Harper but I haven’t really said much about her, so let me rectify that now. She and I have been best friends since grade school. We sat next to each other in kindergarten because my last name was Hamilton and hers was Harper. For the rest of our school career we were constantly next to one another, whether it was locker assignments or our graduation ceremony. So it was a good thing we liked each other so much.

  She has been my friend and confidant all through school and even when we both moved away and went to different universities. Missy had come back to town after college to run the family bookstore, but I’d stayed in the city building a career at a soulless financial firm. I can’t tell you the name of it but I refer to it as Beelzebub Financial. You get the idea.

  I’ve told you how long we’d been friends, so you’ll know that there isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for her and vice versa. Which is how I came to be wearing this sexy Little Red Riding Hood costume that she designed for me.