Stamp Vamp: Undertown Mysteries, #5

By Tabatha Gray

A body with bite marks. A secret identity. A priceless stamp gone missing.

 

It was a perfect summer morning. Coffee. Shopping. Murder—wait—why does this keep happening to Emma? The new sheriff would sure like to know. He suspects everyone, as long as they're innocent.

 

To protect her neighbors, Emma must solve the case first. She's caught killers before. With her growing psychic powers, and some ghostly help, it should be a piece of cake.

 

But this body is bloodless. The neck has two puncture wounds. A mirror lies shattered beside it. Nobody can agree if it's murder, or the work of a bloodsucking field. Tensions overboil as the Friends of the Library go to war with the Friends of the Museum and hurl pieces of cake like cannonballs at the battle of the bake sales.

 

Meanwhile, in the shadows, a mastermind looks on and smiles. Their patient hands have waited for years. Now they lift them to strike.

 

Come home to Undertown for:

• Fast-paced, funny magical mysteries
• Witches, ghosts, cryptids, fae, and other folklore
• A secret neighborhood filled with lovable characters
• Cozy coffee shops, bakeries, bookstores
• Found family and new friends
• Starting over, mid-life
• LGBTQ+ positivity
• Puzzling murder mystery whodunnits

• Language: English
• Publisher: Clue Press
• Release date: Jun 7, 2024
• ISBN: 9798227212634

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

THE SECRET PASSAGE

"A ll I want is a relationship with my mom that’s more than a series of status updates." Emma panted in the heat as they walked along Undertown’s picturesque Main Street.

Viv took a long drink of her iced coffee. The ice sloshed around and glinted in the sunlight. I thought things had improved between you two.

We’re on speaking terms again, sure, but what’s the point of speaking if you only talk about the weather? For heaven’s sake, I found my missing father. You’d think she’d want to talk about it, but she changes the subject. She’s avoiding my calls.

Didn’t you avoid her calls for like a month after she sent you his photo?

Whose side are you on?

I didn’t know there were sides!

All I want is to feel close to her for once in my life, you know? I’m going to make it happen. I have a plan.

Therapy?

No, her birthday.

Viv swirled her coffee. You’ve lost me there, champ.

I’m going to get her a birthday present. The best birthday present. One so good it’ll cut her right to the heart. She’ll realize how good of a daughter I’ve been this whole time. She’ll call. We’ll have a heart-to-heart. It’ll be amazing.

Some present. What is it?

I have no idea.

Does she have any hobbies?

Beats me.

Viv took a long sip, and the straw gurgled. Do you see how you’re not exactly setting yourself up for success?

As far as I know, Mom’s only hobby is shooing away ghosts and keeping me from realizing my ‘amazing’ psychic powers.

Maybe flowers or chocolate?

Now she spends most of her time watching cable news and getting scared of things. Emma shook her head. Whatever the perfect present is, I’ll know it when I see it.

You’re in luck. We’ve arrived. Viv pointed ahead to a small storefront with large windows displaying an assortment of books.

From far in the distance came the sound of a man shouting.

I thought this place went out of business. I came last Christmas, and it was closed.

Hal keeps it shuttered for half the year. It only opens in summer. The rest of the time, he’s off looking for new books to sell or going on vacation. There’s a bunch of shops in the back as well.

Emma stepped around a bright yellow tripod, holding a red-and-white metal disk. Ahead of them, a man in a safety-orange vest fiddled with a surveyor’s transit. Let’s cross the street.

The bookstore filled a two-story building with large arched windows and a grand entrance. The books in the window were old and faded from the sun. A small chalkboard in front of the store read Keepers of the Passage. Meeting. Sunday nine o’clock p.m. Next to it on the sidewalk sat an empty soda bottle and a credit-card-sized shard of broken mirror.

Keepers of the Passage? Emma tilted her head. "What’s that all about? Sounds like some secret society from an episode of Scooby-Doo."

It’s a play on the name. Viv pointed at the shop’s front door where precise gold-and-black lettering spelled Secret Passage Booksellers.

A musty scent enveloped them as they entered the store. It smelled like old paper, worn leather, and history. Bookshelves crammed with books stretched toward the ceiling like the walls of a maze. The store was silent except for the sound of pages being turned by the old man sitting at the front counter. He glanced at the two of them and glared at the cup in Viv’s hand.

Drinks go in the drink jail. He pointed to a sad little wire tray holding several coffee mugs, Deadtown Express cups, and a to-go cup from Griddle Me This, a new diner in Undertown Square.

Viv set her iced coffee in the cup corral. Glad to see you’re charming as ever, Hal. How’s business?

Hal was a tall, lanky man in his early sixties with thinning gray hair and a hunched posture. He set his magnifying glass on top of the papers. Not great, but it won’t matter soon.

Selling the place? Viv replied.

Dreaming of retirement.

Hal, I don’t believe you’ve met Emma. She moved in last summer while you traveled. Where’d you go? Spain? Portugal?

The wiry old man eyed them. Emma, is it? Do you have any beverages?

No. Small wonder business wasn’t booming with an attitude like that.

Not a screw-top soda in the purse? I know how you ladies like to take it all with you.

I don’t.

Do you dog-ear books?

So what if I do?

You didn’t answer my question.

I only dog-ear my own books.

Hal frowned as if weighing her answer. You can look around, but I have my eye on you!

What a jerk! Emma whispered to Viv as they wandered deeper into Secret Passage Booksellers.

Forget about Hal. He’s like that with everybody. So is the milieu sparking any ideas? What books does your mom enjoy?

The floorboards creaked beneath their feet. The polished oak bookshelves stretched from floor to ceiling, each lined with rows of books of various sizes, shapes, and ages. Emma hated to admit it, but this place charmed her. I’ll know it when I see it.

Then we’d better start looking. Viv swerved into a cavernous aisle and plucked a heavy volume from the shelf. How about art? This book has all the paintings from the Louvre.

Emma snorted. I know what she’d say. Too many naked people! It’s indecent!

Viv flipped the pages. I see what you mean. Check out this guy. She turned the book around.

A two-page spread featured a painting of satyrs, creatures with the upper body of a human and the lower body of a goat. They danced around a fire, frenzied and ecstatic. Their goat legs kicked dust and debris as they leaped, eyes closed, mouths wide in ecstasy.

That’s a hard no. Hey, is your phone beeping?

It’s not me.

Emma glanced to the end of the aisle where an Employees Only door stood open. Inside, a large screen displayed a grid of security camera feeds. Each square contained different footage from wide panoramic views of the storefront to close-up shots of specific areas of interest. Maybe I’ll get her a security camera.

What?

She could watch the feed to make sure whatever she’s scared of this week doesn’t catch her off guard.

Isn’t that… bleak?

Have you met her?

Viv reshelved the Louvre book and picked another. How about a book on cubism? No naked satyrs. Only cubes.

Look again.

Viv squinted at the image. I see it now. They’re… pointy. Well, if we don’t find a book that speaks to you, we can always check out the Courtyard Shops in back.

Wait a minute. Is that the mystery section?

I’m always up for a mystery.

Careful what you wish for. Emma ran her fingers along the spines of the mystery books, looking for one she hadn’t read.

This one looks good.

"The Murder of Roger Ackroyd? The first time I read it, I was in an airport. When the twist came at the end, I screamed out loud. Everybody looked at me. It was great. Emma’s finger stopped on a slender volume. Now here’s an author I haven’t read before." She pulled the book from the shelf. Its cover contained an ethereal image depicting Mount Fuji rising against a soft and hazy sky with the delicate pink blossoms of a cherry tree in the foreground.

Back at the counter, Hal eyed the books Emma and Viv had selected. He touched his top lip with his tongue and lingered on it for a moment too long before flashing a grudging smile and ringing up their total. Twelve dollars, fifty cents.

My treat, Viv said, reaching for her wallet. You’ve given me plenty of books. It’s time you let me pay you back.

Emma didn’t like how relieved she felt. It had been over a year since she left her job to move to Undertown, and her new psychic business was taking longer than she’d expected to set up.

Viv handed Hal a twenty-dollar bill, and he handed her back the change. He had liver spots on his hands and a Band-Aid around his middle finger.

Do you hear that? Emma asked. It’s the voice from earlier.

I do, Viv said. It’s louder.

CHAPTER 2

SERENITY

As they opened the door to the Courtyard Shops, the scent of honeysuckle overwhelmed them. Emma took a sharp breath. It was a large, open space paved in flagstone with a shade tree and a bench underneath. Potted plants soaked up the sun all around the courtyard, and several quaint-looking shops surrounded the space. Three shops displayed open signs, one was closed, and another was vacant. Their fronts were covered with honeysuckle.

It’s beautiful, Emma said. But why do you have to walk through a bookstore to get here?

There’s a side entrance, but Hal keeps it locked during the summer when his store is open. He likes to keep tabs on people as they come and go.

Talk about control issues. Emma’s eye was drawn to a small, quirky shop with a charming storefront. It had a vintage wooden door and a large glass window spanning the front wall. Behind it, colorful crystals sparkled in the sunlight. The door was adorned with a wrought iron sign reading Serenity Stones in elegant, swirling letters. Surrounding the entrance were pots of fragrant lavender, rosemary, and other herbs.

A man’s voice rang out. "I told you I don’t have the money! I couldn’t make rent if it wasn’t dirt cheap. … Come after me all you like. I don’t have it. … You can’t squeeze blood from a turnip, man, so keep your