From nationally bestselling author Mary Daheim, who creates a world inside a Seattle bed-and-breakfast that is impossible to resist, comes Creeps Suzette, the newest addition to this delightful series . . .
Judith McMonigle Flynn, the consummate hostess of Hillside Manor, fairly flies out the door in the dead of winter when her cousin Renie requests her company. As long as Judith’s ornery mother, her ferocious feline, and her newly retired husband aren’t joining them, Judith couldn’t care less where they’re going. That is until they arrive at the spooky vine-covered mansion, Creepers, in which an elderly woman lives in fear that someone is trying to kill her. And it’s up to the cousins to determine which dark drafty corner houses a cold-blooded killer before a permanent hush falls over them all . . .
by Mary Daheim
“AS YOU WISH, MA’AM,” SAID KENYON, AND CREAKED OUT OF the parlor.
“Food,” Renie sighed. “I’m glad I’m back.”
“With a vengeance,” Judith murmured. “You know,” she went on, “when I saw those stuffed animal heads in the game room, I had to wonder if Kenneth wasn’t reacting to them. His grandfather or great-grandfather must have hunted. Maybe he grew up feeling sorry for the lions and tigers and bears, oh, my!”
“I could eat a bear,” Renie said.
Climbing the tower staircase, the cousins could feel the wind. “Not well-insulated in this part of the house,” Judith noted as they entered Kenneth’s room.
“It’s a tower,” Renie said. “What would you expect?”
Judith really hadn’t expected to see Roscoe the raccoon, but there he was, standing on his hind legs in a commodious cage. The bandit eyes gazed soulfully at the cousins.
“Hey,” Renie said, kneeling down, “from the looks of that food dish, you’ve eaten more than we have this evening. You’ll have to wait for dessert.”
Judith, meanwhile, was studying the small fireplace, peeking into drawers, looking under the bed. “Nothing,” she said, opening the door to the nursery. “Just the kind of things you’d expect Kenneth to keep on hand for his frequent visits to Creepers.”
Renie said good-bye to Roscoe and followed Judith into the nursery. “How long,” Renie mused, “do you suppose it’s been since any kids played in here?”
Judith calculated. “Fifteen years, maybe more?”
“Do you think they’re keeping it for grandchildren?” Renie asked in a wistful tone.
Judith gave her cousin a sympathetic glance. So far, none of the three grown Jones offspring had acquired mates or produced children. “That’s possible,” Judith said. “You shouldn’t give up hope, especially these days when kids marry so late.”
Renie didn’t respond. Instead, she contemplated the train set. “This is the same vintage as the one I had. It’s a Marx, like mine. I don’t think they make them any more.”
“Some of these dolls are much older,” Judith said. “They’re porcelain and bisque. These toys run the gamut. “From hand-carved wooden soldiers to plastic Barbies. And look at this dollhouse. The furniture is all the same style as many of the pieces in this house.”
“Hey,” Renie said, joining Judith at the shelf where the dollhouse was displayed, “this looks like a cutaway replica of Creepers itself. There’s even a tower room on this one side and it’s . . .” Renie blanched and let out a little gasp.
“What’s wrong, coz? Are you okay?” Judith asked in alarm.
A gust of wind blew the door to the nursery shut, making both cousins jump. “Yeah, right, I’m just fine,” Renie said in a startled voice. “But look at this. How creepy can Creepers get?”
Judith followed Renie’s finger. In the top floor of the half-version of the tower was a bed, a chair, a table, and a tiny doll in a long dark dress. The doll was lying facedown on the floor in what looked like a pool of blood.
The lights in the nursery went out.