A Timely Demise
When librarian Emily Parker decides to spend a quiet weekend at the historic Maple Inn to escape her busy life in the city, she never expects to become entangled in a murder investigation. But when wealthy businessman Richard Thornfield is found dead in the library with a rare first edition clutched in his hands, Emily's peaceful retreat turns into a nightmare.
With the small town police force overwhelmed and a snowstorm cutting off access to the village, Emily finds herself using her research skills and knowledge of mystery novels to piece together clues. As she delves deeper into the secrets of Maple Village's residents, she discovers that nearly everyone at the inn had a motive to want Richard dead.
From the charming but mysterious innkeeper with a hidden past to the chef who had a very public argument with the victim, suspects abound. With the help of the handsome local bookstore owner Jack Sullivan, Emily races to solve the case before the killer strikes again.
Set in the picturesque village of Maple Falls, this cozy mystery will delight fans of small-town settings, clever amateur sleuths, and twisty puzzles that keep you guessing until the very end.
Praise for A Timely Demise
"A delightful debut that combines the charm of a small-town setting with a clever puzzle that will keep readers guessing. Emily Parker is a protagonist you'll want to follow for many books to come."
"Lockwood weaves a tapestry of intrigue, red herrings, and small-town secrets that culminates in a satisfying conclusion. A Timely Demise is a perfect read for a rainy afternoon with a cup of tea."
"A fresh voice in the cozy mystery genre. The snowy setting and charming characters make this a standout debut."
Chapter One
Emily Parker had always believed that old inns held secrets. As she pulled her blue sedan into the gravel driveway of the Maple Inn, the Victorian building looming against the darkening winter sky, she couldn't shake the feeling that this weekend might prove her right. Snowflakes drifted lazily from the gray clouds, dusting the peaked roof and gingerbread trim with a fine layer of white.
The journey from Boston had taken longer than expected. What should have been a three-hour drive had stretched to nearly five as the weather worsened and the roads became treacherous. But now, looking at the warm golden light spilling from the inn's windows, Emily felt the tension in her shoulders begin to ease. This weekend away from the city, away from the library where she worked, was exactly what she needed.
She gathered her weekend bag and the stack of mystery novels she'd brought—a librarian never traveled without books—and made her way up the shoveled path to the front door. A brass plaque beside the entrance proclaimed "Maple Inn, Est. 1878." Below it, in smaller letters: "Where history and comfort meet."
The door opened before she could reach for the handle, and a tall man with salt-and-pepper hair and kind eyes greeted her with a warm smile.
"You must be Miss Parker," he said, reaching for her bag. "I'm Thomas Winters, the innkeeper. We were beginning to worry about you with the storm picking up."
"The roads were getting quite bad," Emily admitted, stepping into the welcoming warmth of the foyer. The scent of cinnamon and pine enveloped her, along with the faint smell of wood smoke from what she presumed was a fireplace. "I'm just glad to have arrived safely."
The interior of the Maple Inn was everything the website had promised: polished hardwood floors, antique furniture, and a grand staircase that curved up to the second floor. To her right, through an arched doorway, she could see a spacious sitting room where a fire crackled in a stone fireplace. Several guests were gathered there, some reading, others engaged in quiet conversation.
What the website hadn't mentioned was the tension that seemed to hang in the air—subtle, but unmistakable to Emily's perceptive eyes. A woman in an elegant black dress sat rigidly in a wingback chair, her gaze fixed on a distinguished-looking man who stood by the fireplace, swirling amber liquid in a crystal tumbler. The look she gave him could only be described as venomous.
Emily's attention was drawn away from this curious tableau by Thomas's voice. "Let me show you to your room. You're in the Hawthorne Suite—one of our finest. Then perhaps you'd like to join us for dinner? It's served at seven in the dining room."
As Emily followed Thomas up the stairs, she had no way of knowing that in less than twenty-four hours, the distinguished man by the fireplace would be dead, and she would find herself at the center of a mystery worthy of the novels in her bag...