Too Tuckered to Trick or Treat: A Carson City Cousins Cozy Mystery

By Sheryl Lee

Carson City cousins Beth Fox and Jo Shannon had been causing trouble from an early age. Now, in their declining years, their friends hoped they would begin to mellow out. No such luck.

They had been like sisters since they were kids. Their younger brothers had long since moved away from the small Nevada town but the girls felt it was their duty to run family affairs, keeping everyone connected. One such responsibility was the family cabin in Lake Tahoe, twenty minutes west of Carson City.

When the cousins went to the cabin in the fall to clean it, remove trash, and secure it for winter, they had no idea they would encounter a dead body. When the local police began to look suspiciously at the cousins’ family, the loyalty gene kicked in.

Not about to have the family’s good name dragged through the mud, the ladies began their own investigation. After all, who on the police force was as smart, creative, and cunning as Beth and Joe? One comical adventure leads to another in this lighthearted romp through the trials and tribulations of two zany ladies chasing and being chased by bad guys.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Mar 5, 2024
• ISBN: 9781663260413

Book preview

PROLOGUE

Dusk settled over Mount Tallac early in October. The majestic mountain stood watch over Lake Tahoe from the west. Few vacationers were taking advantage of the warm beaches provided by the Indian summer. People were back in the comfort of their homes, far from the shores of South Lake Tahoe. Summer visitors to the lake three hours east of San Francisco had resumed their daily activities. They were back at work and busy at school. Locals were performing the tasks required to open Heavenly Ski Resort in November and to make any repairs to their homes, hotels, or businesses. Since the city didn’t allow any exterior construction from mid-October to mid-April, residents were in a hurry to sneak in a few projects during the last few days of fall.

In a small South Shore neighborhood known as Lakeside Park, the employees were busy putting away the boats and beach toys belonging to the private marina and beach. A light burned in the small Lakeside Marina office adjacent to the private beach. Lots of work was still on the agenda before the marina could be closed.

The man working by himself in the small office knew he would be working late. He still had much to do to lock it up before the first snow hit the valley floor. He was visibly upset because so much hadn’t been done. Time sheets, invoices, and contracts were stacked on the desk. Merchandise hadn’t been sorted, and repairs to the office remained untouched. He had been explicit with his two assistants regarding the work that needed to be done.

He slammed the closest pile of papers hard on the top of his desk. Getting any quality work out of the two local ski bums had been difficult, to say the least. Business had been booming in Tahoe for the last several months, and local workers had their choice of jobs. Any work that required hard physical labor was not their first choice. Work at the marina was definitely hard. He was sure his two employees had taken off for the day and maybe even left for the year. They had probably started work at the Heavenly Ski Resort up the hill from the marina. Heavenly paid better, and the weekend parties were more fun. Friendly young snow bunnies were more attractive than the rambunctious families on the beach.

He reconciled the fact that he would be there most of the night, clearing all the paperwork. He made himself a pot of strong coffee and settled down at his desk. He started organizing the piles: bills to pay on the right, contracts to sign for next year on the left, and papers to file in the middle. Once that was done, he would start balancing the end-of-the-year budget.

There was a light knock at the door. Maybe Bodie and Bobby, otherwise known as the Bobbsey Twins, had come back to help him. He felt guilty about doubting their loyalty. The man got up from his chair and headed to the door.

Hang on, guys. Give me a second to unlock the door. I thought you’d taken off and left me with all this mess. I sure can use some help tonight.

He smiled while opening the door. Then his smile turned to a look of confusion.

Oh, sorry. I thought you were the boys coming back to help me tonight. What brings you here so late? I thought we settled everything this afternoon. Are you going to fight me again on my decision?

The man backed away from the door to let his visitor enter. The visitor was not alone. Commotion erupted, surprising the man. The next thing the man knew, he was being shoved against the back shelving. Suntan lotion, snacks, and trinkets sailed across the room, littering the floor of the office. The metal shelves came crashing down around him. The man’s head struck something. Things began to fade from view, and darkness closed in around him.

There was a searing pain in the man’s right shoulder. He was dazed and felt sick to his stomach. Why was he lying on the floor in such pain? Where was his desk? As he tried to sit up, the pain in his shoulder became so severe he fell back to the floor. There were noises above him. Voices were arguing, yelling at each other. He opened his eyes enough to see feet shuffling around his desk. Two pairs? Three pairs? He was disoriented and weak. The feet seemed close, but the voices sounded miles away.

He tried to put order into his thoughts. He had been doing work, and he’d heard a knock—he was sure of that. Why weren’t the people trying to help him? He must have passed out. It had happened before—low blood sugar. He’d forgotten to eat.

He tried to speak. His voice sounded weak inside his head. Please help me. I’m in pain. I’m going to be sick. My shoulder. I think I’m bleeding. Please help me up.

No response.

They were still arguing, yelling at each other. Or at him? He couldn’t tell. He tried to speak louder but still received no response. He reached out, trying to grab hold of one of the shoes, but it was too painful and too hard. He tried again, using his left arm, almost touching one but not quite. The movement seemingly caught the eye of one of the figures. Someone reached down to check the man’s neck. The people in the office seemed surprised at the movement. Someone began to laugh. The voices sounded deep and harsh. Two people? Three?

Hey, I’ll be. He’s still alive. We’ve got to get out of here. I think we have what we came for. I don’t want to hang around any longer than we have to, one voice said.

No, we have to make sure he’s not going to remember anything. Let’s drag him over to one of the slips and toss him in the lake. People will think he accidentally fell in, said another.

Are you kidding? This place is trashed. Besides, there’s blood everywhere. Your stupid camper’s ax embedded in his shoulder is a dead giveaway, you moron. Why did you overreact? He’s not going to make it through the night. He’s lost too much blood already. I’m not going to be dragging anything anywhere. I’m leaving. You can do what you want. You already screwed this up. Why couldn’t you have waited until he was out of the office?

Their voices began to fade. Were they leaving? Was he blacking out again?

The man drifted in and out of consciousness. When he began to focus again, he realized he was in total darkness. In the scuffle, they must have knocked over his lamp. He tried to look around at the mess that had become his office. It had been ransacked. He reached for a few stray papers strewn across the floor. What were they looking for? He tried to search through the documents, but it was too dark to see clearly. Nothing made sense. He held tight to one scrap of paper he recognized. He turned his head just in time to see someone give him a hard kick to the belly. The man blacked out again.

The next time the man regained consciousness, his mind was blank. The pain had subsided. He was numb. He tried to remember who had been at the door when he’d opened it. Again, his memory was blank. How many people had been in his office? He had no clue.

Hold on.

Yes, he had seen one face clearly. He remembered exactly who it was. He opened one eye to see the familiar face staring down at him. The two of them appeared to be alone in the office. It was quiet.

You cur. What is wrong with you? I don’t understand, the man whimpered with tears running down his face. He again tried to stand with no luck. His mind was now becoming clear. He knew exactly what the intruders were after.

I tried, Charlie. I really did. Why wouldn’t you listen? All I wanted was your cooperation. You brought this on yourself, stubborn old goat. Maybe in your next life. The killer frowned and walked out the door.

The man lay on the floor for minutes or maybe hours. He couldn’t tell. It was dark and cold in the office. He used all his strength to drag himself across the floor of the office. He reached for the landline and dialed 911.

Please help me. I’m in the—

He heard only a dull hum. The line was dead—probably another gift from his killer.

Where was his cell phone? Yes, of course, he had left it at home. It was a bad habit that drove everyone crazy—a bad habit that might have been the man’s final mistake.

The searing pain had eased up, but weakness had set in. If he could get out the door and make it into the street, maybe he could get help.

CHAPTER 1

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Your breath smells like garlic. Really strong garlic, Jo Lynn, Beth said, wrinkling up her nose and pinching it off.

Why, thank you, dear. It’s because of that cheesy garlic bread you had to order at lunch, Jo said. So you can stop blaming me. Your breath isn’t any rosebush either. If you weren’t my cousin, I would think you were rude.

It has nothing to do with you being my cousin. I’m always rude. You know that. I wouldn’t have said anything, but you smell worse than Bandit, Beth joked, taking her eyes off the road long enough to give Jo a toothy grin.

The ten-year-old basset hound perked up in the backseat when he heard his name, giving Beth a dirty look. Beth continued up the hill toward Lake Tahoe, taking the curves with gusto.

Watch the road, Speedy. We almost went right off the embankment. You know, it’s a six-hundred-foot drop over the side. I’d actually like to make it to the cabin in one piece. We’re trying to take a break, not break our necks, Jo said. She just wanted to get to their cabin, close it up for the winter, and enjoy one last night with her cousin in front of a warm fire.

Oh, relax. I’ve been taking these turns for over forty years. And have I ever had an accident? Put your life in danger? I think not. Everything’s hunky-dory. Don’t look over the side; just enjoy the ride.

The two cousins were headed to the family cabin to store the summer furniture. They had stopped for lunch at a local diner, Grammy’s Café, in Carson City before taking off for the lake. Grammy’s had been a family favorite since they were young girls growing up next door to each other.

Jo turned to Beth. You always have to go overboard with the food. You are the original eyes-bigger-than-your-stomach gal.

Can’t help it. My mom really impressed me with that ‘People in China are starving’ bit. Stayed with me for life. You can bet I cleaned my plate pretty good for the last sixty years. Even taught Bandit to wolf down his dinner too, Beth bragged.

Like we couldn’t figure that out? I don’t know too many basset hounds that weigh as much as your dog, and you’re a bit older than sixty, my dear cousin. Jo laughed.

Again, Bandit lifted his head about five inches. This time, he gave more than a dirty look. He passed a little wind, as if to let the girls know he was not appreciative of their remarks.

Oh, good Lord, Bandit. I’m about ready to drop you at the nearest animal shelter. You need to take a long, permanent rest. Beth laughed. But you know darn well I won’t.

Jo smiled, knowing Beth would have been lost without Bandit’s company. Ever since her husband had died two years earlier, Bandit had been Beth’s lifeline to sanity. They went everywhere together, and he even slept at the foot of Beth’s bed.

Regardless, it was a great lunch and a wonderful start to the weekend. We need this break, especially after the week we had getting ready for Halloween, Jo said.

Carson City had been making Halloween their big holiday celebration for years. It happened to coincide with Nevada’s statehood celebration. Being the capital, Carson City celebrated the state’s birthday with a yearly parade on the last day of October. In fact, the parade had a reputation for lasting so long that many people fell asleep long before the festivities ever concluded. The parade-goers were often too young or too old to stay awake the full six hours. The two cousins fell into the latter category. They often joked as to why every Boy Scout troop, marching band, dance team, politician, horse, vintage car, and rifle club had to be included. It seemed to the cousins that one or two representatives from each category would have sufficed. Having the biggest rifle club at the end of the parade was a smart move by the parade planners because the loud rifle shots woke everyone up in time to head back to his or her car.

The celebration brought lots of visitors to the city, and most seemed to stay for trick-or-treating. More than five thousand children and parents visited the Governor’s Mansion each year. It was the one time when Nevada residents could meet the governor and have their picture taken with the famous family. Whether one was Republican or Democrat, on Halloween, everyone seemed to love the governor, at least for a few hours. Neighbors surrounding the mansion had lots of trick-or-treaters as well. Jo and her husband, Jack, lived in the Historic District, one block away from the Governor’s Mansion, so stocking up and decorating for the onslaught of little ones was always a significant task. Beth was a big help, but the older the cousins got, the harder the decorating became. Jack always seemed to be on a business trip the exact week it was time to decorate. Jo thought it was quite a coincidence.

What about going out to the Red Hut for dinner tonight? Beth said.

The Red Hut was one of the oldest and most popular restaurants in South Lake Tahoe, located off the main drag. The owners had recently added a new bigger location in the middle of town that stayed open late for dinner. It was more of a tourist trap but served the same good food.

Jo laughed at the suggestion. Please tell me you’re kidding. I’m still full from lunch. How can you possibly think about dinner? But OK, that sounds like a good choice. Their homemade meat loaf is so darned good. Do you think we’ll be ready for wine after dinner? Medicinal purposes only. I sleep so nice after a bottle or two of chardonnay. Don’t you, Beth? After dinner, we can sit around a warm fire in our jammies. Do you mind if we get a couple pieces of their apple cobbler to take back to the cabin? Jo carried on as they made their way up the curvy mountain road to their family cabin.

A short twenty minutes later, they arrived in South Lake Tahoe. As they pulled into the vacant lot next to their family cabin, the skies opened up, and rain began pouring onto the hundred-year-old pine trees surrounding the small rural neighborhood.

It smells so wonderful, Jo said.

Beth agreed.

Jo knew the coming of fall was always the favorite season for the cousins. The brilliant display of fall foliage in their yard was autumn at its best. The Japanese maples, black tupelos, and aspens were showing off that afternoon, yellow, orange, bright red, purple, and scarlet. It was spectacular. The distant thunder promised a storm—the usual pattern Tahoe had followed for a million or so years. This would be followed by heavy snowfall, and by the middle of November, people would be putting their cars into four-wheel drive. The storm was a reminder to the cousins that this visit would probably be the last of the season.

They no longer used the cabin for winter skiing. They knew they would break their leg or worse if they tried to be hotshots. After all, Sonny Bono had misjudged his approach to the ski lodge at Heavenly Ski Resort years ago—not a pretty ending. Heavenly was just a mile from their cabin, but the injuries of older skiers were a strong reminder to quit while they were ahead. The closest the cousins got to the slopes these days was Himmel Haus at the base of Heavenly. They could watch the ski patrol practice their night rescues out the large bay window, snack on a Bavarian pretzel, and sip on a hefeweizen. For the two cousins, that was close enough to the downhill experience.

The girls had never bothered to renovate the cabin. It had no television, dishwasher, or internet. They even had left the original back forty alone. A giant fire pit surrounded by tall pine trees, rockers, swings, and warm blankets provided the family with the only entertainment they needed. Fortunately—or unfortunately, depending on how one looked at it—most of the family had outgoing personalities. Or, as some said, they were a noisy bunch.

They could certainly have afforded to rebuild the cabin. Beth’s late husband had left her well off, but no one wanted the twenty-first century creeping into his or her life at the lake.

Jo and Beth had spent many weeks together in Tahoe since they were young girls. Beth’s three older brothers and Jo’s two younger brothers still brought their wives or partners and their kids up for get-togethers. The cabin was the best investment their grandpa had ever made. The decision to keep the mountain retreat pleased everyone, especially Jo and Beth. Since the cousins lived the closest to the cabin, they took on the responsibility of doing most of the cleaning and repair projects. That was OK with them. They always paired up and made an adventure of it.

Many of their neighbors had rebuilt their cabins into upscale two- and three-story homes with all the trimmings. The prices of cabins had escalated as the small community became more gentrified. But for Jo and Beth, the retreat was just what they wanted it to be, and they would never change it on their watch. What the kids and grandchildren might choose to do with it later was another story.

The cousins pulled up into the vacant lot next to the garage.

OK, let’s get this place secured for the winter. Where should we start? Jo asked.

She knew they needed to consider enlisting the kids to help them with the chores soon. Lifting and moving furniture off the porch was getting harder each year. But for now, they enjoyed the exercise and were still able to laugh about all the aches and pains they would experience the next day. They were getting too old to keep the cabin as spiffed up as they used to. Friends and relatives tried to tidy up after they visited, but there were always small repairs to be made. Repairs that used to be fun and rewarding were now a pain in the derriere. Climbing up ladders to change burned-out bulbs, crawling underneath beds to retrieve lost toys, pulling weeds, nailing loose fence posts, and a hundred other chores were multiplying like proverbial rabbits.

I guess we should store the yard furniture in the garage. Nobody will be sitting around a campfire anymore this year. I’ll go out and start hauling stuff in, Beth said. Pray I don’t get ambushed by any big, ugly rats hiding in the garage. That would about finish me off this week. I’m way too tuckered out to put up with any pests.

Sure, complain away. It won’t get the work done any faster. Never thought I’d see the day you were frightened by something so small and harmless. The quicker we batten down the hatches, the sooner we can head to the Red Hut, Jo teased as she headed upstairs.

Joe began shuttering windows, closing curtains, and cleaning bathrooms. She had barely made a dent in the work, when she heard a shriek from Beth.

Oh no you don’t! Leave that poor defenseless creature alone. Do not chase it with a broom or shovel. Do you hear me, Beth? Jo yelled as she hurried back down the stairs toward the garage, waddling as quickly as she could.

It’s not a rat, Jo! Beth hollered back. It’s a great big thing. Get down here because I’m about to pass out.

Well, how big can it be? Is it a squirrel or raccoon? Jo asked as she rounded the kitchen and headed down the hall toward the back door to the garage. Certainly a bear couldn’t get in through Bandit’s doggy door. She knew Beth was fearless, so what in the world was going on?

A little bigger than that, Jo. See? Beth rasped.

What are you say—

As Jo entered the side door of the garage, the site before her didn’t compute. It was indeed a large thing—a thing about two hundred pounds, with long dark hair and an ax imbedded in its back.

CHAPTER 2

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See? I told you it was big. I’m not sure if that thing is OK, but I’m thinking not. I don’t want to check. Let’s just call 911, Jo. Please? Beth said, looking away from the body.

Two hours later, the South Lake Tahoe police had concluded that indeed, the thing was dead. The victim’s name, according to his ID, was Charles Goodall. Apparently, he had been a well-known local. The police lieutenant told the girls that Charlie, as he’d been known, had been managing the Lakeside Marina for the past fifteen years. He asked if the cousins had known Charlie.

Jo was familiar with marina employees but hadn’t known the victim personally. She had no desire to keep a boat in the marina ever again. Jo remembered how hard it had been for her to talk her husband, Jack, out of buying a vintage Chris Craft years ago. She’d had no such luck. Jo was pretty sure Jack would remember Charlie well.

By six o’clock that evening, the police decided they had culled all the information they were