Murder in the Mystery Suite (A Book Retreat Mystery) Read Online Free
Author: Ellery Adams
does the Steward name proud. I couldn’t have asked for a more devoted heir.”
Jane thanked him, drank some of her tea, and went into the manor house through the kitchen. She tarried for a moment to tell the staff how delicious the tea service was and then walked down the former servants’ passage to her small, cozy office.
Sitting behind her desk, Jane flexed her fingers over her computer keyboard and began to type a list of possible events, meals, and decorating ideas for the Murder and Mayhem Week. Satisfied that Storyton Hall’s future guests would have a wide range of activities and dining choices during the mystery week, she set about composing a newsletter announcing the dates and room rates. She made the special events appear even more enticing by inserting colorful stock photos of bubbling champagne glasses, people laughing, and couples dancing at a costume ball. She also included the book covers of popular mystery novels from the past century as well as tantalizing photographs of Storyton’s most mouthwatering dinner and dessert buffets.
“They’ll come in droves,” she said to herself, absurdly pleased by the end result of the newsletter. “Uncle Aloysius is right. If this event is a resounding success, we can add more and more themed events over the course of the year. Then we’ll be able to fix this old pile of stones until it’s just like it was when crazy Walter Egerton Steward had it dismantled, brick by brick, and shipped across the Atlantic. We’ll restore the folly and the hedge maze and the orchards.” Her eyes grew glassy and she gazed off into the middle distance. “It’ll be as he dreamed it would be. An English estate hidden away in the wilds of the Virginia mountains. An oasis for book lovers. A reader’s paradise amid the pines.”
She reread the newsletter once more, searching for typos or grammatical errors and, finding none, saved the document. She then opened a new e-mail message and typed “newsletter recipients” in the address line. It gave her a little thrill to know that thousands of people would soon read about Storyton Hall’s first annual Murder and Mayhem Week.
After composing a short e-mail, Jane hit send, releasing her invitation into the world. Within seconds, former guests, future guests, and her newspaper and magazine contacts would catch a glimpse of what promised to be an unforgettable seven days. Tomorrow, she’d order print brochures to be mailed to the people on her contact list who preferred a more old-fashioned form of communication.
I’ll have contacted thousands of people by the end of the week
, Jane thought happily.
Thousands of potential guests. Thousands of lovely readers.
Closing the open windows on her screen, Jane found herself staring at one of the book covers she’d used for the newsletter. It was Agatha Christie’s
The
Body in the Library
, and this version from 1960 featured the silhouette of a woman standing in front of shelves of colorful books. Her hands were raised in an effort to fend off an attacker, but the assailant’s hands were almost at her throat. The woman’s demise was clearly imminent.
“Yes, I’m sure they’re lovely people. Each and every one,” Jane murmured firmly. “We’ll have no scenes bearing any resemblance to this cover. After all, this is a work of fiction.”
TWO
Before riding her bike to the village of Storyton, Jane stopped by her cottage to change into jeans and a T-shirt. Most of the ancillary buildings on the resort’s property had been built within the last two decades to house the department heads, but Jane’s cottage, which was once the estate’s hunting lodge, was much older. Like the rest of Storyton Hall, it had been dismantled in the 1830s and transported from its original seat in the English countryside to an isolated valley in western Virginia.
When Jane moved in, the house hadn’t been used as a hunting lodge for years, but there had still been enough animal heads mounted to
Jane thanked him, drank some of her tea, and went into the manor house through the kitchen. She tarried for a moment to tell the staff how delicious the tea service was and then walked down the former servants’ passage to her small, cozy office.
Sitting behind her desk, Jane flexed her fingers over her computer keyboard and began to type a list of possible events, meals, and decorating ideas for the Murder and Mayhem Week. Satisfied that Storyton Hall’s future guests would have a wide range of activities and dining choices during the mystery week, she set about composing a newsletter announcing the dates and room rates. She made the special events appear even more enticing by inserting colorful stock photos of bubbling champagne glasses, people laughing, and couples dancing at a costume ball. She also included the book covers of popular mystery novels from the past century as well as tantalizing photographs of Storyton’s most mouthwatering dinner and dessert buffets.
“They’ll come in droves,” she said to herself, absurdly pleased by the end result of the newsletter. “Uncle Aloysius is right. If this event is a resounding success, we can add more and more themed events over the course of the year. Then we’ll be able to fix this old pile of stones until it’s just like it was when crazy Walter Egerton Steward had it dismantled, brick by brick, and shipped across the Atlantic. We’ll restore the folly and the hedge maze and the orchards.” Her eyes grew glassy and she gazed off into the middle distance. “It’ll be as he dreamed it would be. An English estate hidden away in the wilds of the Virginia mountains. An oasis for book lovers. A reader’s paradise amid the pines.”
She reread the newsletter once more, searching for typos or grammatical errors and, finding none, saved the document. She then opened a new e-mail message and typed “newsletter recipients” in the address line. It gave her a little thrill to know that thousands of people would soon read about Storyton Hall’s first annual Murder and Mayhem Week.
After composing a short e-mail, Jane hit send, releasing her invitation into the world. Within seconds, former guests, future guests, and her newspaper and magazine contacts would catch a glimpse of what promised to be an unforgettable seven days. Tomorrow, she’d order print brochures to be mailed to the people on her contact list who preferred a more old-fashioned form of communication.
I’ll have contacted thousands of people by the end of the week
, Jane thought happily.
Thousands of potential guests. Thousands of lovely readers.
Closing the open windows on her screen, Jane found herself staring at one of the book covers she’d used for the newsletter. It was Agatha Christie’s
The
Body in the Library
, and this version from 1960 featured the silhouette of a woman standing in front of shelves of colorful books. Her hands were raised in an effort to fend off an attacker, but the assailant’s hands were almost at her throat. The woman’s demise was clearly imminent.
“Yes, I’m sure they’re lovely people. Each and every one,” Jane murmured firmly. “We’ll have no scenes bearing any resemblance to this cover. After all, this is a work of fiction.”
TWO
Before riding her bike to the village of Storyton, Jane stopped by her cottage to change into jeans and a T-shirt. Most of the ancillary buildings on the resort’s property had been built within the last two decades to house the department heads, but Jane’s cottage, which was once the estate’s hunting lodge, was much older. Like the rest of Storyton Hall, it had been dismantled in the 1830s and transported from its original seat in the English countryside to an isolated valley in western Virginia.
When Jane moved in, the house hadn’t been used as a hunting lodge for years, but there had still been enough animal heads mounted to
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