Cloaked in Malice Read online

  PRAISE FOR

  Skirting the Grave

  “The latest installment in Annette Blair’s Vintage Magic Mysteries brings back all the things I love about this series: great characters, cool vintage fashion, intriguing mystery, and just a touch of magic… Definitely in style for any fan of cozy mysteries.”

  —Fresh Fiction

  “Five stars! This story is perfect for those who enjoy some romance in their mysteries—and a bit of the paranormal…Whenever I open a book by Annette Blair, the real world fades away, and I am guaranteed to be highly entertained.”

  —Huntress Reviews

  “Blair never disappoints. Her books are fun and lighthearted, even though the subject matter can sometimes be dark—the writing is superb, colorful, and bright, making you want more with each page you turn.”

  —Fang-tastic Books

  “A well-drawn-out mystery featuring likable characters, and offers a healthy dose of humor and even some vintage fashion tips…Annette Blair is a very skilled author, and the story, while complex, comes together nicely at the end.”

  —MyShelf.com

  Death by Diamonds

  “Annette Blair has the magic touch when it comes to entertaining joie de vivre paranormal amateur-sleuth whodunits. The mystery is cleverly constructed.”

  —The Best Reviews

  “A fast-paced, fascinating addition to this dynamic mystery series…A book by Annette Blair is a guaranteed roller-coaster ride, and Death by Diamonds in no exception!”

  —Fresh Fiction

  “It was fabulous—the best Vintage Magic Mystery yet. Full of magic, mystery, and classic Blair style. Maddie’s antics are always fun to read, and the hint of romance is a teasing heat that leaves you wondering and wanting more.”

  —Fang-tastic Books

  “To say Annette Blair has revved up the drama and intensity would be putting it too mildly…One of the most interesting mysteries I have read this year. A magnificent story!”

  —Huntress Reviews

  “An exciting, humorous roller-coaster ride…I cannot recommend Annette Blair’s books enough, and this one is no exception to that. It already has a place on my keeper shelf.”

  —ParaNormal Romance

  Larceny and Lace

  “Another fast-paced novel that keeps the reader entertained from the word go! Annette Blair’s characters are warm and endearing, and you feel as if you’re visiting old friends among the pages.”

  —Fresh Fiction

  “Annette Blair’s whimsical and witty writing style is true magic on the page…I love Blair’s use of words and the way she blends magic and vintage clothing into the stories like they are characters themselves, especially the clothes.”

  —Fang-tastic Books

  “A wonderful investigative tale that will have armchair readers spellbound…With whimsy, humor, and Dante to round out the magic, fans will enjoy this entertaining paranormal amateur sleuth.”

  —The Best Reviews

  “A joy to read.”

  —Gumshoe Review

  A Veiled Deception

  “Whimsical, witty, and wonderful…Sure to enchant readers everywhere.”

  —Madelyn Alt, national bestselling author of Home for a Spell

  “A wonderful book…A literary whisper adds to the charm.”

  —Romantic Times

  “Not only a good start to a new series but a great example of the supernatural mystery genre.”

  —Curled Up With a Good Book

  “Annette Blair brings her characters to vivid life…Fun, witty, and highly recommended.”

  —Huntress Reviews

  “A smart, funny start to a new series…Cleverly plotted.”

  —The Mystery Reader

  “Phenomenal. Ms. Blair beautifully captures New England’s ambiance and mystique as she weaves a well-crafted mystery into the threads of Maddie Cutler’s life.”

  —Fresh Fiction

  “A funny, engaging read. Annette Blair puts together a mystery with humor, suspense, and quite the engaging plot…The dialogue is witty, there’s humor throughout the story, along with friendship and family, sexual tension without the story revolving around the sex, and the plot just zings along.”

  —ParaNormal Romance

  “A terrific kickoff to what appears will be a fantastic cozy mystery series…A Veiled Deception is so much fun, with likable characters, romance, and a knotted mystery to un-ravel.”

  —Reader to Reader

  Berkley Prime Crime titles by Annette Blair

  A VEILED DECEPTION

  LARCENY AND LACE

  DEATH BY DIAMONDS

  SKIRTING THE GRAVE

  CLOAKED IN MALICE

  Berkley Sensation titles by Annette Blair

  THE KITCHEN WITCH

  MY FAVORITE WITCH

  THE SCOT, THE WITCH AND THE WARDROBE

  SEX AND THE PSYCHIC WITCH

  GONE WITH THE WITCH

  NEVER BEEN WITCHED

  THE NAKED DRAGON

  BEDEVILED ANGEL

  VAMPIRE DRAGON

  CLOAKED

  in Malice

  ANNETTE BLAIR

  BERKLEY PRIME CRIME, NEW YORK

  THE BERKLEY PUBLISHING GROUP

  Published by the Penguin Group

  Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

  375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014, USA

  Penguin Group (Canada), 90 Eglinton Avenue East, Suite 700, Toronto, Ontario M4P 2Y3, Canada (a division of Pearson Penguin Canada Inc.) • Penguin Books Ltd., 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England • Penguin Group Ireland, 25 St. Stephen’s Green, Dublin 2, Ireland (a division of Penguin Books Ltd.) • Penguin Group (Australia), 250 Camberwell Road, Camberwell, Victoria 3124, Australia (a division of Pearson Australia Group Pty. Ltd.) • Penguin Books India Pvt. Ltd., 11 Community Centre, Panchsheel Park, New Delhi—110 017, India • Penguin Group (NZ), 67 Apollo Drive, Rosedale, Auckland 0632, New Zealand (a division of Pearson New Zealand Ltd.) • Penguin Books (South Africa) (Pty.) Ltd., 24 Sturdee Avenue, Rosebank, Johannesburg 2196, South Africa

  Penguin Books Ltd., Registered Offices: 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

  CLOAKED IN MALICE

  A Berkley Prime Crime Book / published by arrangement with the author

  PUBLISHING HISTORY

  Berkley Prime Crime mass-market edition / July 2012

  Copyright © 2012 by Annette Blair.

  Excerpt from Operation Petticoat by Annette Blair copyright © 2012 by Annette Blair.

  Cover illustration by Kimberly Schamber.

  Cover design by Rita Frangie.

  Interior text design by Laura K. Corless.

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

  For information, address: The Berkley Publishing Group,

  a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.,

  375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014.

  ISBN: 978-1-101-58105-6

  BERKLEY® PRIME CRIME

  Berkley Prime Crime Books are published by The Berkley Publishing Group,

  a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.,

  375 Hudson Stree
t, New York, New York 10014.

  BERKLEY® PRIME CRIME and the PRIME CRIME logo are trademarks of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

  PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

  10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

  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.”

  ALWAYS LEARNING

  PEARSON

  With love and thanks for a lifetime

  of memories, laughter, and tears to my

  remarkable Sister Cousins: Victoria Lague,

  world–class professor, and Julie Lague Sutton,

  world–class artist. Never forgetting…

  the knight in shining armor smiling

  down on all of us.

  Author’s Note

  Historic Mystic, Connecticut, is a treat as is the Mystic River, both well worth a long visit. Mystick Falls, to the north, however, is a figment of my imagination, as are the locations of my characters’ homes and of the town’s governing body. I have too much respect for the real thing to portray them any other way.

  Table of Contents

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Thirteen

  Fourteen

  Fifteen

  Sixteen

  Seventeen

  Eighteen

  Nineteen

  Twenty

  Twenty-one

  Twenty-two

  Twenty-three

  Twenty-four

  Twenty-five

  Twenty-six

  Twenty-seven

  Twenty-eight

  Twenty-nine

  Thirty

  Thirty-one

  Thirty-two

  Thirty-three

  Thirty-four

  Thirty-five

  Thirty-six

  Thirty-seven

  Thirty-eight

  Thirty-nine

  Vintage Bag Tips

  Operation Petticoat

  One

  The man who invented the zip fastener was today honored with a lifetime peerage. He’ll now be known as the Lord of the Flies.

  —RONNIE BARKER

  My name is Madeira Cutler, and I’d like to invent a ghostly tracking device. I mean, there’s nothing like a dead person dropping into your personal space to set you up for the day. Or to knock you off your Jimmy Choos.

  “Dante, you scared the wits out of me.” My heart raced beneath the red madras, Claire McCardell shorty playsuit I’d worn to work, Vintage Magic, my very own designer vintage shop, empty except for me.

  “My apologies,” said my dapper, Cary Grant clone, dressed for the Ritz, “but I just saw a ghost.”

  I set my hands on my hips. “You are a ghost.”

  “Semantics.” Dante had the wisdom to put some distance between us. “Nice legs.”

  I posed in the daring forties outfit, however timely for August, and turned an ankle to show off the matching red sling-back platforms by Yves Saint Laurent. “Hey, stop trying to sweeten my mood,” I said. “I’m miffed at you, McShadow.”

  “Why?” he asked. “You’re used to having me around. I introduced myself before you ever moved into my eternal restless place.”

  I smoothed and folded the Hermès scarf I’d crushed to my breast at the minor fright. “It’s Saturday, the shop’s barely open, and this is the one day of the week my customers have the good grace to sleep late. I was minding my own business, sorting vintage clothes, thinking about—”

  “Nick?”

  “Shush. Then suddenly you appear for an unexpected face-to-face. I’m here to tell you: Being startled in that way can scar a girl, ghost or not.”

  “Think about how I feel,” my hunky ghost countered. “From an upstairs window, I see a girl crossing your parking lot, who—I swear—lived a long time ago. When she comes in; you’ll see,” he said.

  I raised a brow.

  He bowed. “But from the depths of my heart, my apologies, though you did set up a designer vintage dress shop in a carriage house formerly owned by a funeral home, thereby surrounding yourself with horse-drawn hearses, caskets, and the basement embalming room that you haven’t seen.”

  “Wait, this isn’t about me,” I said, ignoring his insinuation that I might be afraid of the embalming room, which I was. Sure, I’m bold, and I can fix anything, but I’m not stupid. “This is about you, a ghost, being freaked by a ghost. Surely, Mr. Undertaker Underhill, you’ve seen your share?”

  “Not like this one.”

  The bell on my shop door rang as a flip-haired young Marilyn Monroe type entered, attired in an earth-toned sixties A-line tent dress—Butterick Pattern 2919, a classic favorite. The outfit gave away the stranger’s hobby as a talented seamstress, one with a most unique slant and tint to her wide baby blues, the likes of which I had never—

  Well, actually, I believed that I had seen eyes like hers before. But where?

  I shivered, deep on the inside, and Chakra, my psychic psycho cat, catapulted into my arms to soothe where she soothed best—at my solar plexus chakra, hence the feline wonder’s name.

  “Welcome to Vintage Magic,” I told my new customer, stroking Chakra’s butterscotch-swirl fur.

  The blonde, whom Dante couldn’t take his gaze from, systematically devoured my shop’s treasures, looking like a tot in a candy store, her eyes big with a glint of hunger, even greed. “I’ll take one of everything,” she said, proving my point. “I could swoon over your vintage fashions.” She looked down at her dress. “I guess I match this special style of yours. Who knew?”

  “You didn’t know you liked the style of clothes you’re wearing?”

  “Not until I walked in here.” She sighed, showed a dimple, and clutched her large hobo-style tapestry bag behind her back.

  What an odd statement. “Where have you been? In a nunnery?”

  “What’s a nunnery?” She eyed my amazing merchandise and lifted the sleeve on a cut velvet evening coat. She was in love with vintage…but hadn’t known it.

  I didn’t doubt her possible swoon. She wore her emotions on her capped sleeves for the world to see.

  “This place is fantabulous,” she said, walking along the “avenue” between my named nooks, her expression brimming over with a determination to take on the style as her very own, like this very minute. “Oh, look, your cubbies have street signs. ‘Mad as a Hatter, Little Black Dress Lane, Paris When It Sizzles.’” She chuckled and turned back to us—I mean, she turned back to me. Yes, Dante stood rooted beside me, entranced by the sight of her, but she didn’t know he existed.

  “What do you think?” he asked, elbowing me, more or less, since we couldn’t really touch. “Is she a dead ringer or what?”

  I wanted to shush him. It’s difficult to carry on different conversations at the same time, one with a ghost, one with a stranger who had a pulse. Worse because my customer couldn’t hear or see the hunk in top hat and tails—his work clothes. Yes, Dante died of a heart attack during a funeral. Go figure.

  Evidently, one wears for eternity what one dies wearing. Note to me: Designer originals, always—couture, if possible—even to bed.

  Since my mother had been a witch, I waved a virtual wand of positive vibes toward the universe from whence my gift, or curse, of psychometry had come.

  “Harm it none, heed my gesture, never dress me in drek polyester.”

  No, I don’t quite dabble in magic…yet. I have a lot to learn. But I do take liberties. I mean, I would never wear polyester, unless comatose, and a hospital twit, or worse, a mortician, dressed me in it, so I was taking no chances.

  My dear friend, Dolly Sweet, very nearly one hundred and four, planned to die in
the Katharine Hepburn gown I gave her, the one like Tracy Lord’s wedding dress. So, of course, I had heart palpitations every time she wore it.

  Now she wanted a Philadelphia Story–themed birthday party—and I prayed for her to survive this event like every other when she’d worn the dress. Plus I told everyone to go with a forties theme, accent on Philadelphia Story. To be fair to the residents, the forties allowed for a wider range of choices.

  Not to confuse you, many of us who work in Mystic, Connecticut—of Mystic Pizza Movie fame—live a hop, skip and a jump to the north in Mystick Falls, the governing body for the district. You see a century or more ago, our forefathers dropped the “k” from the Native American version of the seaport town’s name, and those who objected built Mystick Falls and took half the townsfolk with them

  And though we lived there, we would celebrate Dolly’s birthday, here, upstairs, so Dante, my ghost who couldn’t leave the building, and Dolly’s first love, could attend.

  Nobody could see him but me, Aunt Fiona—not really my aunt but really a witch—and Dolly, who’d had an illicit affair with Dante more than half a century ago, a tidbit that was arguably the area’s biggest secret.

  Both their love and the gossip had survived for decades. At the time of their “courtship,” Dolly had been young, beautiful, unmarried, and—shall we say?—unsullied.

  Dante, a renowned rake, was, and still is, drop-dead gorgeous. That he looks like Cary Grant is not an exaggeration. He’d been years and years Dolly’s senior at the time of their fling, and the last living heir to the wealthiest dynasty in Connecticut.

  Fact is, the gossip might have gone down in history as speculation if Dante had not bequeathed Dolly his fortune, this building included, which she sold to me for the cost of taxes. I love them both dearly, and I love that they’re still attracted to each other, he a debonair fifty-year-old ghost; she a wrinkled centenarian in the prime of her life. To this day, they dallied, every chance they got, in their favorite corner of my shop: turning a sizzling Paris into more of an inferno.

  So why could Dante not take his gaze from a young stranger off the street?