DASH AWAY ALL Read online

  Praise for Christina Freeburn’s Mysteries

  “A snappy, clever mystery that hooked me on page one and didn’t let go until the perfectly crafted and very satisfying end. Faith Hunter is a delightful amateur sleuth and the quirky characters that inhabit the town of Eden are the perfect complement to her overly inquisitive ways. A terrific read!”

  – Jenn McKinlay,

  New York Times Bestselling Author of Copy Cap Murder

  “An enjoyable read with a comfortable tone, plenty of non-stop action and pacing that was on par with how well this story was told…A delightfully entertaining debut and I can’t wait for more tales with Merry and her friends.”

  – Dru’s Book Musings

  “Christina’s characters shine, her knowledge of scrapbooking is spot on, and she weaves a mystery that simply cries out to be read in one delicious sitting!”

  – Pam Hanson,

  Author of Faith, Fireworks, and Fir

  “A fast-paced crafting cozy that will keep you turning pages as you try to figure out which one of the attendees is an identity thief and which one is a murderer.”

  — Lois Winston,

  Author of the Anastasia Pollack Crafting Mystery Series

  “A little town, a little romance, a little intrigue and a little murder. Join heroine Faith and find out exactly who is doing the embellishing—the kind that doesn’t involve scrapbooking.”

  – Leann Sweeney,

  Author of the Bestselling Cats in Trouble Mysteries

  “Battling scrapbook divas, secrets, jealousy, murder, and lots of glitter make Designed to Death a charming and heartfelt mystery.”

  –Ellen Byerrum,

  Author of the Crime of Fashion Mysteries

  “Freeburn’s second installment in her scrapbooking mystery series is full of small-town intrigue, twists and turns, and plenty of heart.”

  – Mollie Cox Bryan,

  Agatha Award Finalist, Scrapbook of Secrets

  “Witty, entertaining and fun with a side of murder…When murder hits Eden, WV, Faith Hunter will stop at nothing to clear the name of her employee who has been accused of murder. Will she find the killer before it is too late? Read this sensational read to find out!”

  – Shelley’s Book Case

  “Has mystery and intrigue aplenty, with poor Faith being stuck in the middle of it all…When we finally come to the end of the book (too soon), it knits together seamlessly and comes as quite a surprise, which is always a good thing. A true pleasure to read.”

  – Open Book Society

  “A cozy mystery that exceeds expectations…Freeburn has crafted a mystery that does not feel clichéd…it’s her sense of humor that shows up in the book, helping the story flow, making the characters real and keeping the reader interested.”

  — Scrapbooking is Heart Work

  Mysteries by Christina Freeburn

  The Merry & Bright Handcrafted Mystery Series

  NOT A CREATURE WAS STIRRING (#1)

  BETTER WATCH OUT (#2)

  DASH AWAY ALL (#3)

  The Faith Hunter Scrap This Series

  CROPPED TO DEATH (#1)

  DESIGNED TO DEATH (#2)

  EMBELLISHED TO DEATH (#3)

  FRAMED TO DEATH (#4)

  MASKED TO DEATH (#5)

  ALTERED TO DEATH (#6)

  Copyright

  DASH AWAY ALL

  A Merry & Bright Handcrafted Mystery

  Part of the Henery Press Mystery Collection

  First Edition | July 2020

  Henery Press

  www.henerypress.com

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever, including internet usage, without written permission from Henery Press, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  Copyright © 2020 by Christina Freeburn

  Author photograph by Kristi Downey

  This is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real locales are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Trade Paperback ISBN-13: 978-1-63511-599-4

  Digital epub ISBN-13: 978-1-63511-600-7

  Kindle ISBN-13: 978-1-63511-601-4

  Hardcover ISBN-13: 978-1-63511-602-1

  Printed in the United States of America

  To my husband Brian, who helped make everything possible.

  I love you.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  A huge thank you to my editor Maria for encouraging me to ignore my self-imposed rules and allow the book to be what it needed to be, even though it meant I’d write a new ending after the first revision. I appreciate all your hard work and dedication to this book. You’re the best!

  One

  The last ounce of sunlight was fading into the night as I pulled into the housing quarters for the cast and crew of Dash Away All, a new television Christmas movie being filmed in a small town in Indiana. One wouldn’t know Christmas was coming to town from this particular area. It was plain, ordinary, run-of-the-mill RV park appearance. Gravel ground with small patches of grass throughout and rows upon rows of small trailers. It even had a large picnic and concession area.

  Then again, it was July and it wasn’t like the film needed the off-camera areas Christmas ready. My RV would stick out amongst the rest of the homes away from homes. I received a lot of odd looks but also some honks and thumbs up as I drove down the interstate in my Christmas-themed RV. The main image was Santa Claus flying over a town, but our business logo for Merry & Bright Handcrafted Christmas was still visible.

  I parked in my assigned space and turned off the engine, checking on Ebenezer who was still snoozing away in his pet carrier strapped into the passenger seat. Nerves and excitement had kept my adrenaline high the whole seven-turned-into-nine-hour drive from my hometown in Season’s Greetings, West Virginia to Carol Lake, Indiana.

  I had been hired to work on a television Christmas mystery movie. Marie McCormick, the cousin of my friend Paul McCormick, had decided to take up a second career after leaving the police force and found a job being the assistant to Luna Carmichael, the grande dame of Christmas movies. The movie featured a handcrafter solving a mystery and Marie had dropped my name as the perfect person to create some of the pieces needed for “authenticity” on the film set for the up-and-coming television movie star Anne Lindsey’s character who specializes in home décor crafts. Paul heard from his cousin about difficulties in finding the perfect crafter, especially since the others hadn’t worked out, and she had a week left. He told his cousin that I was a great fit. I loved Christmas, crafted, and had a moving craft studio. Marie had emailed me a script with notes, letting me know what the key pieces were needed for the scenes and which were for the background.

  The movie featured some new actors and I was thrilled at getting a chance to know them before they made it big in the Christmas movie market. It would be great to say I was there when they launched into Christmas stardom. What I loved most about this movie was that the director had chosen “older” actors for the key roles. The heroine and hero of the movie were both in their mid-forties, my age. It was a nice change of pace.

  I slipped out of the RV. There was enough light left for me to attach the electrical power cord of my RV into the remaining receptacle without fumbling around in the dark. I had planned on arriving late in the afternoon but a rainstorm revving itself into a monsoon had me pulling into a rest stop for a few hours. While I was growing more confident driving my RV, I wasn’t so confident to assume it could double as a boat. It was better waiting out the storm than driving through the downpour, especially on roads I wasn’t familiar with. A large portion of the drive was on the interstate, but it still wasn’t wise to travel through a storm.

  The casting director had sent instructions for me to park on the outskirts of the space marked off for the trailers where the cast and crew lived. The majority of the dwellings around me were white trailers with green, tin-like roofs, storage for props and other offices. From what I was told, the only person who had an actual office, dressing room, and a room in a house was Luna Carmichael and Marie.

  Voices rose in the distance. Two women. I plugged in the power cord and dusted off my hands, making my way toward the argument. I couldn’t help it. The peacekeeper in me demanded I help out. Slight arguments could easily turn into something much worse, as two recent experiences in my life had proven.

  Two figures moved in the near dark, heading toward a pavilion area a few yards away. One woman stalked behind the other. Both postures were rigid. Straight back. Tightened fists. The lead woman had short dark hair and took long purposeful strides toward the coffee urns. The other woman’s blonde hair swung around her shoulders in limp tendrils as she hurried to catch up.

  The blonde snagged the other woman’s arm and spun her around. “You have no right.”

  “Trust me, it’s better this way.” There was a firmness in the brunette’s voice, and she yanked her arm away.

  “You think it’s better to hide the truth.”

  “Just because you believe it doesn’t make it true,” the brunette said.

  “What makes you so sure you’re right and I’m wro
ng?”

  “Research.”

  A twig snapped. I glanced down and lifted up my foot. I hadn’t stepped on one, so someone else was watching the exchange in quiet or was leaving. Most people would rather not get involved in an argument than force their way into it, like me.

  “Hope the coffee urns are filled,” I said, making myself known.

  The women drew closer to each other, their angry words turning into harsh whispers as I ventured toward the food area. The two women were near the coffee carafes, the only things still out in the open and accessible. The rest of the drink area and food service, set up like a huge buffet, was covered with metal lids and locked.

  One of the women had an arm draped over the top of the smallest carafe, the phone in her hand held her interest. “Decaffeinated is in this small carafe, full charged in all the others.”

  The blonde shot one more glare at the woman then stormed off.

  “Everything all right?” I asked.

  “Yep.” The woman kept her gaze on the phone and drew out an exasperated sigh. Her hair still hiding her face. “Some people can’t turn off their fan girl moments. Just because you’re working on the set, doesn’t mean you get a private get-together with Ms. Carmichael. The woman deserves privacy like everyone else.”

  My face heated. Luna Carmichael. The reigning queen of Christmas movies, or rather, former as Luna had appeared in less movies over the last few years. She was the person I was most excited about meeting. I was sure to bump into her sometime during the next two weeks or hoped Marie might introduce us. No one could fault me for saying a quick hello and maybe a small gushing session.

  For a decade, Luna had appeared in every, or it seemed every, Christmas romance television movie. I owned all the movies she starred in. She had this mix of strength and innocence, perfect for a Christmas heroine who was learning to stand on her own but also willing to fight for the love she knew she deserved. The starting over trope was my favorite of all the romance storylines. I think it was because I felt like I was perpetually in that stage of life.

  A shrill sound came from her phone. She pulled out her cell and swiped a finger across. Shaking her head, she tucked her phone into the back pocket of her jeans and fixed her gaze on me. There was something familiar about her features. Her tense smile morphed into a more welcoming one, like she recognized me. “There’s no rest for the wicked. Let Paul know you’ve arrived safely. I know he’ll worry about you. We’ll chat tomorrow.”

  Paul’s cousin. She had the same wide set eyes and high cheekbones. I really should’ve made time to stop at Paul’s before heading for Indiana but the last week had me camped out in front of my die cutting machine making as many Christmas projects as possible for the movie. At least I could’ve requested a picture of his cousin or stopped for a visit and looked at a family album. Instead, I was engaged in what was becoming a new hobby for me—avoidance. Paul had once again hinted about moving our friendship toward a romance. I still couldn’t get past our thirteen-year-age difference, though Paul had no qualms about it.

  Before I could say a word, Marie strode off into the dark. I watched her, trying to decipher her tone. It had turned firm. Almost like an order. Maybe it was just from all her years being a police officer and leftover anger from her conversation with the other woman.

  Or maybe a scolding for eavesdropping was in my future.

  Tiny claws scratched at my arm and a pitiful sound echoed in my ear. Ebenezer. Something was wrong. I jerked awake, gathering my furry companion into my arms as I sat up in bed. My mind was fuzzy, trying to remember where I was. This wasn’t my bedroom. The RV. I was in my RV. In Indiana. Ebenezer whistled, twisting and turning to escape my arms. At the set of a Christmas movie and my guinea pig was having a major meltdown.

  “What’s the matter?” Panic welled up in me. Was he hurt? Sick? A thousand horrible scenarios ran through my mind, all of them ending with a trip to the vet. How close was a veterinarian? There was a cat in the Christmas movie, so the casting director must have a name of a vet to call.

  “I’ll be right back.” I dropped a kiss on Ebenezer’s head and placed him under the covers.

  I slipped off the bed and changed from my pajamas to more appropriate attire for a mad dash outside. Ebenezer shot off the bed and ran for the bedroom door, clawing at it. There were voices near the RV. He wasn’t sick. Ebenezer had sensed people outside and was alerting me. He wasn’t much of a people person.

  I peered out the small window in the bedroom. It was still night. I tapped my phone that was on the bedside table. Four in the morning. I held in a groan. I sure hope this wasn’t the time the cast and crew started readying for a day of shooting. I was not a morning person. Being woken up at this time for the next two weeks by a curmudgeonly guinea pig wasn’t an experience I wanted.

  The voices were growing louder. Frantic. Was this first day of shooting jitters or was something else going on? I scooped up Ebenezer and deposited him into the playpen I set up in the living space. “Sorry, buddy, but I can’t have you running outside in the dark.”

  He whistled and shrieked his outrage at the containment. Ebenezer enjoyed the great outdoors. Too much. The moment a door was opened, he made a break for it.

  “Either this or your pet carrier.”

  After slipping on my canvas sneakers, I stepped outside. There was a smoke smell in the air. In the dark, I noticed a group of golf carts zipping by and other people running, following the carts out of the cast area and toward a small road.

  “We can’t let the fire spread to the main house.”

  A whitish plume rose into the sky and I made out the faint flickering of a yellow and reddish glow coming from a distance away.

  “Where’s the fire trucks?” someone yelled.

  “It’s a small town. Volunteers have to leave their house and head to the station first. It’ll take time.”

  A golf cart jammed to a stop near me and before I knew what was going on, I was hustled into it by a young man wearing a “Dash Away All Crew” shirt. Our butts had barely touched the seat before the driver of the cart pressed the accelerator and we shot forward. I held on for all I was worth as the cart sped through the night down a dirt path. Branches smacked and scraped against the cart and I drew back and winced at each scratch and thump.

  I spotted flames dancing through the trees. There was a large vacant area, a mix of dirt and grass behind a huge house on a slight hill. As we drove closer, I noticed a tiny shed a few yards away from the house. Some people were hosing the burning structure while others fixed hoses on the vegetation on either side.

  Cars were parked near the building, the brights turned on to illuminate the shed, which was more of a tiny house, and the people desperately trying to put it out. Tendrils of smoke escaped from the windows and the bottom of the door. The light from the flames flickered over the faces of the people closest to it.

  The driver stopped the golf cart a few yards away from the burning shed and motioned for me and the other passenger to get out. “Check in with Ike with what jobs are needed. I’m heading back for more help. There’s a lot of our props in that shed.”

  “Who’s Ike?” I asked.

  The crew member looked at me oddly and pointed at an attractive man with long brown hair tied into a ponytail who was directing people putting out the fire. “Him. How can you work here and not know Ike? He’s the casting director and hired all the crew.”

  “I’m the crafter. Luna’s assistant was the one who contacted me.” The guy seemed suspicious about me and I figured dropping Luna’s name was better than Marie’s.

  “That explains it.” He hurried toward Ike.

  There was something in his tone that generated multiple questions. Right now wasn’t the time to ask. I ran toward the group. Marie was standing off toward the side, frantically tapping away on her cell phone.