The third novel in the Shady Hollow mystery series, in which Vera Vixen takes on her most challenging case yet: solving the murder of a rat who appears to still be alive.

Change is afoot in Shady Hollow, with an unusually tense election shaping up between long-serving Chief of Police Theodore Meade and Vera's beau, Deputy Orville Braun. But the political tension takes a back seat when resident eccentric Dorothy Springfield becomes convinced her beloved husband, Edward, is dead, and that the rat claiming to be him is actually a fraud.

While most of the town dismisses Dorothy's rants as nothing more than a delusion, Vera has her doubts. More than a few things don't add up in the Springfield household, but Vera will have to tread carefully, since, with Orville's attention on the election, she may be more exposed than ever.

A VINTAGE CRIME/BLACK LIZARD ORIGINAL.

Praise for The Shady Hollow Mystery series:

 “Watership Down meets Mickey Spillane. A mystery of rare and sinister charm.”
—Alan Bradley, New York Times bestselling author of the Flavia de Luce series

“A magical confection that will leave you nostalgic for the storybooks of your youth.  It’s quirky and clever, charming and smart.  I read Shady Hollow in one sitting and can’t wait for more!”
—Sarah Addison Allen, New York Times bestselling author of First Frost

“Get ready to fall in love with Shady Hollow and its quirky cast of animal characters. Charming and clever, Juneau Black will take readers on delightful ride as the mystery unfolds. I can’t wait to read more!”
—Amy E. Reichert, author of The Kindred Spirits Supper Club

“Need a book to curl up with by the fire? This is it! Shady Hollow must be the coziest of cozy crime stories. It’s a whimsical woodland murder mystery like no other! I not only enjoyed reading about it—I want to live there, surrounded by enigmatic pandas, diligent mice and well-read corvids. I have to try the food, listen to the gossip and visit the tiny café—and I don't even care that there is a murderer on the loose!”
—Leonie Swann, bestselling author of Three Bags Full

Autorentext

Juneau Black

Leseprobe
Chapter 1

It was mid-October in Shady Hollow, a glorious time of year that showed the small village to its best advantage. The many trees were gold, red, and yellow, blazing colors wherever a creature looked. It was also the time of the Harvest Festival, an annual event that most residents of Shady Hollow looked forward to all year. It took place at the town park by the river, and there were activities for everyone. There were apple bob­bing for the little ones (the apples, of course, were provided by Cold Clay Orchards) and a wide variety of booths with tasty foods of all kinds. Sun Li, the panda who owned the best res­taurant in town, the Bamboo Patch, was proudly serving his renowned pumpkin soup. There were also tables laden with local cheeses, ciders, and pies.
Vera Vixen, local reporter by choice and local sleuth by accident, was one of the many Shady Hollow residents who looked forward to the festival. She and Orville Braun, the hard­working deputy of the town’s two-bear-strong police force, had planned to spend the day together at the event.

As Vera and Orville wandered among the display tables, they greeted their friends and neighbors. They nearly ran into Gladys Honeysuckle, Vera’s colleague at the Shady Hollow Herald. Gladys was darting in and out of the crowd, her wings beating so fast they became a blur in the air. All the while, Gladys chatted with folks and gleaned far more gossip and information than anyone else would have dreamed.

“Oh, Vera!” the hummingbird called. “There you are, and with Deputy Braun as well. My, my, my. You two are getting cozy, aren’t you?”

Suppressing a sigh, Vera said, “It’s not news that Orville and I have gone on a few dates.”
“No,” Gladys agreed with some deflation in her tone. “It’s not news. Unless you want to make some sort of . . . announcement?”

“Nothing comes to mind,” Orville replied. His expression was mild, even a little stupid. When she’d first met Orville, Vera had thought he wasn’t the brightest. She’d quickly come to learn that, while he had a very different approach to the world, Orville was much, much smarter than he looked. It was one of his best tools as an officer of the law. (His other tools were sheer size, four massive paws, and a jaw that could snap a pine sapling in half.)

Vera and Orville moved through the festival grounds and stopped at a table where two chipmunks were sitting. Geof­frey and Benjamin Eastwood ran the town’s bed-and-breakfast, which was located on a lovely cul-de-sac just off Main Street. Ben was offering cookies to passersby, and Vera smiled when he called her name.

“Miss Vixen, you’re a connoisseur of treats,” he said. “Try my maple cookies. I only bake them in fall and winter.”

He gave one each to Vera and Orville. Crunchy granules of maple sugar studded the cookie’s top, like a particularly deli­cious autumn frost. Vera nibbled the leaf-shaped treat with relish.

“Real good,” Orville said, licking the last of the sugar off his paw.

“Then have a second,” Geoffrey insisted, reaching past his husband to offer another cookie.
“We’ve got seven dozen, after all!”

“That won’t be enough,” Vera predicted. The cookies would pair excellently with a cup of strong coffee, maybe one with a stick of cinnamon in it and a dollop of whipped cream . . .

Dreamily, Vera told the Eastwoods goodbye and walked off with Orville, delighted by the fine day, the blue sky, and the general bounty surrounding them.

Moments later, they waved to Howard Chitters, the direc­tor of the sawmill, Shady Hollow’s largest business. He was accompanied by what looked to be an invading horde of mice but was in fact just his immediate family.

Vera chatted with Mrs. Chitters and her young daughter Moira for a few minutes, exchanging pleasantries and guessing who would win the bread-baking competition this year. When Vera said goodbye to her friend, she turned her attention back to Orville. “Shall we go find the Nevermore table?” she asked. Shopping for books was perhaps the greatest treasure hunt there was.

But Orville didn’t reply, because his attention was elsewhere—he was staring at the cider tent, which was a very popular destination on this crisp, sunny day. Vera followed his gaze and spotted Theodore Meade, the Shady Hollow chief of police. More significantly, Meade was Orville’s boss. Meade clutched a mug of cider in one huge paw and was clapping Howard Chitters on the back with the other. This friendly ges­ture nearly sent the small mouse into the air.

Orville’s usually pleasant expression was missing; in its place was a mask of anger that Vera had seen only once or twice. Before she could ask him what the problem was, the police bear began muttering, “What is he doing here? He promised to take a solo shift at the station today. I never ask him for any­thing, and the one time I do . . .” Orville trailed off, sputtering.

Before Vera could gather her thoughts and take in the situa­tion, Orville was striding over to the park’s gazebo. A podium was set up for the mayor’s speech later in the afternoon. Orville took the stairs in one leap and stood behind the podium.

“Ladies and gentlemice, if I could have your attention, please.” Orville’s v…