Paint by Murder Mystery #2
Cozy Mystery
Date Published: 10-11-2022
Publisher: Crooked Lane Books
In Bailee Abbott’s second book in the Paint by Murder mysteries,
Chloe and Izzie are taking their paint party business on the road—with
murder as the first stop!
Chloe Abbington and her sister, Izzie, are enjoying huge success running
Paint with a View, their paint party business in the tranquil western New
York lakeside town of Whisper Cove. Now, their aunt
Constance—president of the local chapter of the Chautauqua
Sisterhood—has hooked them up with a gig hosting a Halloween painting
party. The guests will be painting a local ghost legend, the Lady of
Chautauqua Lake, who died a hundred years earlier and rises from the lake
every October to haunt anyone who dares venture out on All Hallows’
Eve.
The event seems to be going off without a hitch, until Chloe overhears an
argument between Constance and Viola Finnwinkle, the Sisterhood director,
about the fate of the local chapter. Both women leave and the sisters finish
their painting. But the next morning, Viola’s body is discovered
floating face down near the town ferryboat dock, her long red hair spread
around her. Eerily, the image is an exact replica of a painting Chloe and
Izzie had discovered at the event the night before.
What’s more, the police find Constance’s purple knit hat lying
on the ground near the crime scene. Constance pleads innocence, saying the
hat mysteriously went missing during the event. Frantic that she might be
charged with murder, she begs Chloe and Izzie to help her. The sisters
believe their aunt is innocent, but if so, who’s the real
killer—and when will the next victim turn up?
EXCERPT
As we stepped up on the deck, Dewey was drying his damp face and hair with a towel. The sandy blond curls sprang out like corkscrews when he shook his head. He rubbed his face with one hand and leaned over to peer at the lake water again, as if he hadn’t noticed or heard us.
Izzie whistled. “Earth to Dewey. Are you running the ferry across the lake this morning anytime soon?”
Dewey gasped and sprang to attention. His hand and fingers splayed across his chest. “About to give me heart failure, you did.” His gaze flitted sideways for an instant and straight again to us. “You want to take the ferry?”
“Uh, that’s what we’re here for, and I expect you’re here to take us.” Izzie planted both fists on her hips. “What do you keep staring at, Dewey Sawyer? Your face looks pale and almost white.” Izzie inched closer to him.
I walked alongside her. With a frown puckering my brow, I squinted. “And your hands are shaking like you overdosed on caffeine. Are you on that diet again? The one where you eat next to nothing? I remember last time you ended up in the hospital eating your meals through a tube. Not a smart thing to repeat.” I shook my head. Dewey was as thin as the stem of a rigger paint brush. He couldn’t afford to lose any weight.
As we came to within a few feet of him, Dewey backed away from the edge of the deck and sobbed. I turned for a second. He stuffed his fist in his mouth, and his eyes bulged as if they could pop out of their sockets at any second. Something had upset him, which wasn’t so unusual. Everyone in town knew he was prone to hysterical episodes.
Puzzled and curious, I shifted my attention from Dewey to the lake water. I leaned over, searching exactly at the spot where he had been looking a moment ago. My insides lurched like they’d turn inside out, and I clutched my stomach with both hands. “Good lord.” I strained to speak.
Izzie gripped my shoulder and let go of a low, feeble cry. “Is that really…is she…?”
Even though my brain told me to look away, I couldn’t tear my gaze away from the horrible sight. A body was floating face down in the water near the shore, a woman with long red hair, spreading like tentacles around her head. Her blue wool coat was snagged on a huge tree trunk that had landed in the lake and been left there after lightning struck it down in a summer storm. An inch or two of her red dress showed along with the bottom half of her legs that had turned white and wrinkly. This image was almost exactly like in the painting we’d found left behind at the lodge, only this scene was terrifyingly real. Viola Finnwinkle was dead, and she’d been left floating in Chautauqua Lake. As if my mind finally caught up to what happened, I fumbled in my pocket to pull out the knit hat. I gasped as the hint of what it could likely mean hit me. The knit hat with a narrow brim was purple, and it looked exactly like the one Aunt Constance had been wearing to our event.
About the Author
Bailee Abbott is a native Ohioan who spends her days plotting murder and
writing mysteries. She’s a member of Sisters in Crime as well as of
International Thriller Writers. Bailee lives with her husband and furry
friend Max in the quiet suburbs of Green, Ohio. Bailee also writes the
Sierra Pines B&B mystery series under the name Kathryn Long.
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