Murder Can Confuse Your Chihuahua Read online

  Praise for Rose Pressey

  and her delightful HAUNTED VINTAGE mysteries

  “Rose Pressey’s books are fun!”

  —New York Times best-selling author

  Janet Evanovich

  IF YOU’VE GOT IT, HAUNT IT

  “A delightful protagonist, intriguing twists, and a fashionista ghost combine in a hauntingly fun tale. Definitely haute couture.”

  —New York Times best-selling author

  Carolyn Hart

  “If you’re a fan of vintage clothing and quirky ghosts, Rose Pressey’s If You’ve Got It, Haunt It will ignite your passion for fashion and pique your otherworldly interest. Wind Song, the enigmatic cat, adds another charming layer to the mystery.”

  —New York Times best-selling author

  Denise Swanson

  “If You’ve Got It, Haunt It is a stylish mystery full of vintage fashions and modern flair, with a dash of Rose Pressey’s trademark paranormal wit for that final touch of panache. Chic and quirky heroine Cookie Chanel and a supporting cast of small-town Southern characters are sure to charm lovers of high fashion and murderous hi-jinks alike.”

  —New York Times and USA Today best-selling

  author Jennie Bentley

  “Absolutely delightful! Prolific author Rose Pressey has penned a delightful mystery full of Southern charm, vintage fashion tips, a ghostly presence, and a puzzler of a mystery. With snappy dialogue and well-drawn characters in a lovely small-town setting, this thoroughly engaging story has it all.”

  —New York Times best-selling author

  Jenn McKinlay

  “Fun, fast-paced, and fashionable, If You’ve Got It, Haunt It is the first in Rose Pressey’s appealing new mystery series featuring clever vintage-clothing expert Cookie Chanel. A charming Southern setting, an intriguing murder, a stylish ghost, a tarot-reading cat, and a truly delectable detective combine to make Ms. Pressey’s new Haunted Vintage series a sheer delight.”

  —New York Times best-selling author

  Kate Carlisle

  “Prolific mystery author Pressey launches a cozy alternative to Terri Garey’s ‘Nicki Styx’ series with an appealing protagonist who is as sweet as a Southern accent. The designer name-dropping and shopping tips from Cookie add allure for shopaholics.”

  —Library Journal

  IF THE HAUNTING FITS, WEAR IT

  “Cookie Chanel must investigate the horse-racing community to find a killer.... After Haunted Is Always in Fashion, Pressey’s fifth amusing paranormal cozy is filled with quirky characters and fashion, along with a few ghosts. Fans of Juliet Blackwell’s ‘Witchcraft’ mysteries may enjoy the vintage clothing references. Suggest also for fans of Tonya Kappes.”

  —Library Journal

  “Haunted by three ghosts, a young woman searches for a jockey’s murderer at the Kentucky Derby.”

  —Kirkus Reviews

  HAUNT COUTURE AND GHOSTS GALORE

  “It was a pleasure to read. I listened to this one, and I’m so glad I did. The novel is narrated by Tara Ochs. She does a fine job of narrating, keeping up the pace and differentiating voices well. The story moved right along. If you have a chance to listen, I recommend it with this one.”

  —Jaquo.com (on the audio edition)

  FASHIONS FADE, HAUNTED IS ETERNAL

  “Chock full of ghosts, supernatural guardians, cats possessed by spirits, a handsome police officer boyfriend, and tips on surviving the afterlife and vintage shopping.”

  —Kirkus Reviews

  Books by Rose Pressey

  The Haunted Craft Fair Mystery Series

  Murder Can Mess Up Your Masterpiece

  Murder Can Confuse Your Chihuahua

  The Haunted Vintage Mystery Series

  If You’ve Got It, Haunt It

  All Dressed Up and No Place to Haunt

  Haunt Couture and Ghosts Galore

  If the Haunting Fits, Wear It

  Haunted Is Always in Fashion

  A Passion for Haunted Fashion

  Fashions Fade, Haunted Is Eternal

  The Haunted Tour Guide Mystery Series

  These Haunts Are Made for Walking

  Walk on the Haunted Side

  Haunt the Haunt, Walk the Walk

  Walk This Way, Haunt This Way

  Take a Haunted Walk with Me

  Hauntin’ After Midnight

  Keep on Haunting

  You’ll Never Haunt Alone

  The Walk That Haunts Me

  The Halloween LaVeau Series

  Forever Charmed

  Charmed Again

  Third Time’s a Charm

  Charmed, I’m Sure

  A Charmed Life

  Charmed Ever After

  Once Upon a Charmed Time

  Charmed to Death

  A Charmed Cauldron

  Almost Charmed

  MURDER

  Can Confuse Your Chihuahua

  Rose Pressey

  KENSINGTON BOOKS

  www.kensingtonbooks.com

  All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.

  Table of Contents

  Praise

  Also by

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 9

  CHAPTER 10

  CHAPTER 11

  CHAPTER 12

  CHAPTER 13

  CHAPTER 14

  CHAPTER 15

  CHAPTER 16

  CHAPTER 17

  CHAPTER 18

  CHAPTER 19

  CHAPTER 20

  CHAPTER 21

  CHAPTER 22

  CHAPTER 23

  CHAPTER 24

  CHAPTER 25

  CHAPTER 26

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Teaser chapter

  KENSINGTON BOOKS are published by

  Kensington Publishing Corp.

  119 West 40th Street

  New York, NY 10018

  Copyright © 2020 by Rose Pressey

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.

  To the extent that the image or images on the cover of this book depict a person or persons, such person or persons are merely models, and are not intended to portray any character or characters featured in the book.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons living or dead is entirely coincidental.

  If you purchased this book without a cover you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as “unsold and destroyed” to the Publisher and neither the Author nor the Publisher has received any payment for this “stripped book.”

  Kensington and the K logo Reg. U.S. Pat. & TM Off.

  ISBN: 978-1-4967-2163-1

  ISBN-13: 978-1-4967-2164-8 (ebook)

  ISBN-10: 1-4967-2164-0 (ebook)

  To my parents, for always being there for me. You’ve inspired me with your strength, love, and kindness. I’m proud to call you Mom and Dad.

  CHAPTER 1

  Don’t worry if you don’t sell a lot at your first craft fair. Focus more on building relationships and having fun, plus staying alive.

  How would I escape this? I was trapped with no idea how to get out. Where was help when I needed it? My heart rate spiked wh
ile my body trembled. With shaky hands, I gripped the steering wheel of my 1947 pink Ford F-100 truck. I punched the gas pedal, hoping to flee before anyone noticed. Unfortunately, the wheels spun, but the truck, with my pink and white Shasta trailer attached to the back, went nowhere. As I gunned the engine, I wondered if I’d cause irreversible damage.

  Vincent van Gogh, my tiny white Chihuahua, sat on the seat next to me. He barked as if telling me I was doing this all wrong.

  “I know, Van, but what else can I do?” I pressed my foot on the pedal again.

  Obviously, I’d named Van after the famed artist. It wasn’t entirely because of my love of art either. I’d rescued the Chihuahua from the shelter a year ago, and his one floppy ear had inspired the name. We’d been best friends ever since. Van was opinionated, though, and always let me know when I wasn’t doing something to his satisfaction.

  Bearing down on the accelerator again resulted in the same outcome. What else was I supposed to do? A tow truck seemed like my only option. I’d been so close to arriving at my destination, only to be stopped a short distance away. The spot where I’d set up my booth for the craft fair came into view. This was more than a little embarrassing. Other vendors had taken notice that I was stuck in the mud. They stared instead of offering to help.

  “I guess I should give up, huh, Van?”

  He barked.

  I glanced in the rearview mirror and caught a glimpse of my reflection. This was not my best moment. My dark bangs stuck to my sweating forehead. Actually, my grandma said we didn’t sweat, we glistened. That sounded much more graceful. It didn’t help matters that the temperature around the Great Smoky Mountains was hot enough to fry an egg on the hood of my truck.

  Late summer had settled around us. An early-morning thunderstorm had dissipated, and the sun was forcing its way out from behind the fading clouds. Unfortunately, the mud hadn’t dried up yet. Soon the weather would change, and the green leaves would burst with color. For now, we had to deal with the scorching heat.

  My hometown of Gatlinburg was on the other side of the mountains. I was still close enough to home that my overprotective and slightly wacky family could keep tabs on me. I expected to see them pop up at any time. The mountains’ peaks blended in with the clouds in the distance. I was now in Cherokee, North Carolina, for the annual Farewell, Summer Arts and Craft Fair.

  I’d attended the fair in the past, but only as a patron. It had been almost like a county fair, with rides, games, food trailers selling deep-fried everything, and, of course, the arts and crafts. On the final day of the fair, they held a farewell picnic with hot dogs, hamburgers, and fireworks—sending the summer away with a big bang.

  Pounding on the window next to me made me jump. A loud shriek escaped my lips. Caleb Ward stood beside my truck door with a perplexed grimace on his face. His crystal-blue eyes widened. The color reminded me of the hue I used often for the sky in my paintings. His dark hair was in stark contrast to his pale eyes. I lowered the window.

  “Need some help?” he asked with a slight hint of Southern drawl.

  Now I really was mortified. I hated making mistakes like this. I liked it better when I seemed in control. This was definitely not in control.

  “I guess I got stuck in the mud,” I said.

  “Just a little.” He pinched his index finger and thumb together to showcase the amount.

  Heat rushed to my cheeks. “This is embarrassing.”

  “Nothing to be embarrassed about. Good morning, Van.” Caleb waved.

  Van wagged his tail. Caleb had an adorable German shepherd named Gum Shoe. For that reason, Van had become partial to Caleb. Caleb and I had met recently at another craft fair. Not only was Caleb a talented wood sculptor, but he was also a detective with the Tennessee Bureau of Investigation. Gum Shoe sat near Caleb patiently, waiting for me to get out of this predicament.

  I’d rolled up to the craft fair with the best intentions. Selling my paintings was the goal. Plus, having fun with Van and enjoying the beautiful natural surroundings. Scenes like these always helped my muse. The fact that Caleb was here too made it even better. Now if I could only get out of this mess—literally—the day could continue as planned.

  “You just need a little traction, that’s all,” Caleb said.

  “How do we do that?” I asked.

  “First put the truck in park. Next hand me the floor mat.”

  I shifted the truck into park and opened the truck door. “Stay put, Van.”

  After I handed Caleb the floor mat, he said, “Okay, I’m going to put this in front of the tire. When I say go, you drive forward.”

  “Got it,” I said as I slipped back into the truck.

  Van was occupied with barking at a cricket that had jumped onto the windshield. I watched in the mirror as Caleb placed the floor mat on the ground.

  He stood up and motioned. “Okay, drive forward now.”

  As I pushed on the gas, the truck and trailer broke free from the mud. I watched through the side mirror in horror as mud splattered all over Caleb’s white T-shirt and face. I bit my lip to keep from laughing. The last thing I wanted was for him to see me amused after he’d helped me out of my muddy entanglement. Once I stopped the truck, Caleb walked back to the driver’s side window.

  I opened the truck’s door and got out. “I am so sorry.”

  Caleb wiped the mud from his face with his hand. “They say mud is good for the complexion, right?”

  Mud had made its way into his short hair. I held back the laughter until he let loose. The other vendors watched us as if we were bonkers. Caleb and I continued laughing.

  I pulled an old paint rag from my truck and handed it to Caleb. “Thanks again for getting us out.”

  Caleb swiped the towel across his face. “No problem. Do you need any help setting up?”

  I took the dirty towel from his outstretched hand. “Thanks, but I think I’m good.”

  “I’ll see you soon?” Caleb asked.

  My stomach danced. “Yes, we’re a couple of booths from each other.”

  “Guess I got lucky with that,” he said.

  Fortunately, this time Caleb’s booth was close to mine. I blushed every time I thought of him. He wouldn’t be right next to me, but he would be just a few spaces down. That meant I would see him more often. I hadn’t met the people who would be on either side of me, but I hoped they were nice.

  I gestured over my shoulder toward the truck. “Okay, I should get to work. See you soon.”

  Caleb waved as I hopped into the truck and shifted into gear. Van released his high-pitched bark that sounded more like a cricket’s chirp.

  “Yes, you’ll get to play with Gum Shoe later.”

  Needless to say, the pink paint on my vehicles was now covered with mud. Yes, my trailer was pink and white, and I’d had my old truck painted pink too. Pink was my favorite color, although I loved all colors. Mostly I just wanted everyone to remember me, and standing out with the pink was certainly one way for that to happen. People would never forget my mobile pink art studio. My poor dirty truck and trailer. Now I’d have to wash them soon or everyone would think the color was beige.

  I wondered if I hadn’t unknowingly selected pink as my signature color because I needed something cheerful. Sometimes the subject matter of my art wasn’t so cheery. I’d recently discovered hidden images within my work. Actually, someone else had discovered this by accident when they’d held a glass jar up to a painted canvas. That sounded crazy, but it had actually happened.

  Within the paintings were images of skeletons. I had no idea that I’d painted them. The only time I discovered the figures was after the paintings were complete and I held a glass up to my eye for a view. Even though this was a bit spooky, one of the images had helped me solve a recent murder. It could have been a coincidence, but I had a tough time believing that.

  I maneuvered my truck and trailer closer to the spot where I’d spend the next week. Most of the area was surrounded by a forest of tal
l trees. The sun created flickering shadows on the ground as it trickled around the leaves. An area in the middle had lush green grass and would be the spot for the vendors to sell their crafts.

  After pulling my trailer up to the location, I shoved the gearshift into PARK. I had wasted almost an hour stuck in the mud, so now my setup time was limited. The craft fair would officially open for the day soon. My fingers were crossed that nothing else would go wrong at the weeklong event. There had been enough chaos at the last craft fair. I didn’t want that to spill over to this one.

  As I got out of the truck with Van in my arms, he whined and squirmed. “Okay, you want to go for a quick walk? We can’t be long, though.”

  The craft fair was being held at a church that had a large area of surrounding acres with the Oconaluftee River running along the edge of the property. They called it a river, but in this area, it appeared more like a creek. My excitement mounted when I thought about spending a week here surrounded by the lush green landscape, Oak, maple, and pine trees stood out against the bright blue late-summer sky. In the early morning before the fair began, I thought it would be great to take my easel down to the water and paint.

  Van trotted along beside me as we headed down the meandering dirt path toward the river. Overgrown patches on either side of the trail gave me a creepy feeling that someone was watching us. Water droplets on the leaves from the earlier thunderstorm had almost dried up completely now. Van and I weaved around tall pines as the rays of sunshine trickled through the gaps in the trees. As I stepped over the fallen needles, they crunched under my feet. The pine scent encircled us.