Piper Haydn Piano Mysteries Bundle #1 -3 (eBook)

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Murder Goes Solo Book #1 (excerpt)
“Trefor!” Piper called as her tall friend unfolded from his pale blue Prius.
He smiled and waved, grabbing his Yeti tumbler and gulping. He wore a bright red cardigan and music print shirt. Colorful socks peeked out from under his skinny jeans. Trefor stopped to gather his wavy brown hair into a man bun and adjust his shades. “Your big day,” he said and rested his arm around Piper’s shoulder.
Piper stepped away from his hug and turned to the students gathered behind her. She smiled at her chattering kids and the beautiful cloudless sky. The delivery truck beeped while backing into the loading dock, and a crowd gathered on the sidewalk. Trefor called greetings to several students. Everyone knew everyone else in Cranberry Harbor, and Trefor was a town favorite. He worked at the music store, teaching lessons and selling pianos. Piper had heard he even substituted at the public school, helping with the choirs.
“Nice socks,” she said and laughed.
Trefor wiggled his eyebrows and pulled up one leg of his skinny jeans. “Music notes.”
Lisa ran up behind them, breathless from jogging to the back door. “Rosie’s on her way.” Oh, hi, Trefor,” she said, a smile plastered on her face and her eye lashes fluttering.
Trefor nodded and gave a small wave.
Piper’s eyes sparkled, and she resisted the urge to jump up and down and clap her hands like a little girl. Waiting for the Steinway reminded her of Christmas morning. The extreme time crunch before the recital tonight the only damper on her excitement.
“Is your dad coming for the uncrating, Piper?” Trefor asked as he waved the truck driver back to the sidewalk.
“If you delivered the piano when you promised, he would have been here.” She teased and punched his arm.
Trefor shrugged and rubbed his arm. “Ow. I’m sorry—again.”
“At least I didn’t have to reschedule the recital. But to answer your question, no. Dad is meeting with a big corporation to sell our chocolate cherries.”
“Trefor—glad you could make it!” Rosie called with her bracelets clanking as she ran toward them. “Is the Steinway actually here this time?”
“Yes, Rosie, it’s on that very truck as we speak,” Trefor said, his voice clipped.
Rosie shrugged and kissed Piper on the cheek. “How exciting, Piper! Who gets to tickle the ivories first?”
“I’d say me, but the time . . . and I have to change.” Piper shrugged. “And ahem,” Piper cleared her throat. “My office is a mess.” She frowned.
Rosie smiled. “Sorry. I told Lisa I’d come back to clean.”
Lisa shrugged and stepped toward Trefor, grabbing his arm and leaning into his side.
Trefor pulled his arm away and buttoned his cardigan. He readjusted his man bun and stepped away from Lisa. “Excuse me.” He walked over to the truck and talked to the driver, gesturing and pointing.
“What’s all that about?” Rosie asked, frowning.
“I don’t know. I wish they’d hurry.” Piper adjusted the floral scarf at her neck, tying it in a loose knot. She clapped her hands and squealed. “I can’t wait!”
Rosie smiled and gave her a quick hug.
The janitor opened the backstage doors, and the truck driver reversed the truck into the opening. A man jumped out and pulled the cargo doors open. He locked a ramp into place and disappeared into the back of the truck.
Trefor ran over to Piper, his feet sliding in his Birkenstocks on the gravel driveway.
“Piper, can you and the students gather inside? You’ll have a better view when they roll your Steinway onto the stage.”
Piper frowned. “I planned to oversee the entire delivery process, Trefor. You know I’ve waited so long for this day.”
“Trust me,” he said. “Get everyone in the hall, and I’ll make sure your new baby stays safe and sound. We’ll open the crate and let the piano tuner get to work. Your recital will start on time. I promise.” Trefor stepped close and leaned down, but Piper stepped away and frowned. Piper was skittish around men and didn’t plan to date for a long time. When Daniel Graves left her at the altar, she swore off men for good. She didn’t want to hurt Trefor’s feelings, but he wasn’t her type—not with those skinny jeans and man bun. She shuddered.
“Students, they asked us to move to the hall.” She and Rosie corralled the students into the auditorium. “Fill the front row, please,” she instructed, then paced. “Let’s move in and get out of their way.”
“Why are you nervous?” Rosie asked, settling in the seat next to Piper’s students. She tucked her flowy skirt under her legs and rolled her eyes at one of the boys, and he giggled. “Trefor was getting a bit close out there, Piper. What’s up with that?”
Piper shrugged. “I don’t know, but he knows I’m not interested.” She pointed to the eavesdropping students and whispered, “Shh.”
The doors opened, and Trefor and two men pushed a massive wooden crate onto the stage. Don followed close behind, picking up leaves and sticks from the carpet.
“Where do you want the piano, Piper?” Trefor asked, standing mid-stage, his hands on his hips. He glanced around the stage and walked to the middle. “Here?”
Piper joined him and pointed to the spot she marked earlier near stage left.
Trefor shook his head. “No, the piano belongs in the middle.” He pointed the delivery men to the middle of the stage.
“Excuse me, gentlemen, but I chose this spot.” Piper frowned and glanced at the crate.
Trefor waved her away. “We’ll uncrate the piano over here so the students can watch. When my technicians attach the pedals and legs, we will position the Steinway anywhere you wish.” He smiled and turned back to the stage.
Rosie jumped from her seat. “What’s he doing? It’s your piano. Your stage, I might add.”
“I don’t know. The men must need more space to open the crate and assemble the piano.”
Rosie patted Piper’s back. “Well, I don’t appreciate him disrespecting you in front of your students.”
“Thanks, Rosie.”
The two women waited at the side of the stage while the deliverymen eased the crate off the piano dollies. Trefor barked orders at the men and directed their movements.
“I guess he knows what he’s doing. He does this for a living.” Piper shrugged.
When Rosie ran her fingers through her curls, her earrings clanked. “Well, Miss Music Academy Owner, he may sell pianos, but you’re the one who plunked down eighty thousand dollars to buy a Steinway. He should not boss you around.”
Piper smiled. “Don’t remind me of the cost. Ugg. I could have repaired half my house with that money.”
Rosie sniffed. “Money well spent. Owning a Steinway gives the academy an air of respectability and pizazz.”
Piper laughed. “Rosie, you give us all the pizzazz we need.” The women stepped near center stage while the men pried the crate open. Piper caught a glimpse of the shiny black wood, and her heart squeezed. She had dreamed of owning a Steinway for decades, and her dream was about to come true. Smiling at Rosie, she rested her hand on her heart and glanced around. Her students smiled, and excitement bubbled into loud voices and restless shifting. Lisa snapped photos, and Piper nodded, flashing her a thumbs up.
When Piper turned back to the stage, her heart pounded, and her hands shook. Hard work and years of careful savings fulfilled her dream of owning a Steinway. Mission accomplished.
The men pried at the sides of the crate. The wood splintered in a loud crack, and the men jumped back as the sides of the container thudded to the floor.
Later Piper would say that everything happened in slow motion. The splintering crate, the flash of shiny black wood, the exploding screams, and rolling nausea. But in real life, everything happened at once.
A student screamed, “Is that a hand?”
The world stopped—the hall silent. Piper treaded through deep water in slow motion. She moved to the crate as the pale-faced men backed away. Her stomach lurched as screaming erupted around the hall. Noises faded into the background. She trudged through a tunnel. Underneath the open lid of her long-awaited Steinway lay Daniel Graves, the man who had jilted her at the altar.

Murder Goes Glamping Book #2 (excerpt)

Rosie laughed. “My camper Bess is all fancy now and ready to go glamping.”
Piper raised her eyebrows.
“It’s biblical,” Rosie said.
“What is biblical?”
“Glamping.”
Piper stared at Rosie. “Now you’re being ridiculous.”
“Seriously! The tabernacle. Haven’t you read how God decorated his tent with gold and jewels? That sounds exactly like glamping to me.”
Piper rolled her eyes. “Oh, my word, Roosevelt Hale.”
“Close your eyes and picture this. Pine trees. Wind in the trees. Bird calls and the water. Stars at night and beautiful sunrises every morning.”
“You left out the mosquitoes,” Piper said.
“Think about it,” Rosie said.
“No.”
“Don’t answer me right away.”
“Nope.”
“Sleep on it.”
“Never.”
Piper parked in front of Rosie’s house.
“I’ll call you tomorrow and see what you think.” Rosie blew a kiss to Piper and hopped out of the car.
Piper waved and pulled away from the curb. “I am never going glamping with you, Rosie. Never.” Piper laughed at her silly friend. “I don’t camp—fancy or not. No, Roosevelt Hale, this is one battle you’ll never win.” She tapped the screen on the sound system, filling her car with the sounds of Tchaikovsky’s “Swan Lake” to drive away the horror of Rosie’s camping suggestion

Murder Goes Caroling Book #3 (excerpt)

A swirl of stinging snowflakes whipped around Piper Haydn as she battled Wisconsin’s winter. Her eyes and nose tingled from the below zero temps, and she tightened the scarf around her neck as she shivered.
Good thing mom knows how to knit a cozy scarf.

Winter had taken over Wisconsin far too early this year, and Piper feared the frigid temperatures might sabotage the Cranberry Harbor Christkindlmarket. The outdoor Christmas market opened in two weeks, and Piper had a mile-long list of details to work out before opening day. And she still had to oversee the tree lighting ceremony and the Caroling Extravaganza this weekend.

She’d corral the teachers at her music academy and her best friend, Roosevelt Hale, to help accomplish the endless tasks. But first something to warm her insides. A bell jingled overhead as Piper ducked into the Tea Thyme shop. The pungent aroma of tea and herbs tickled her icy nose.

“Piper,” Maisy called from behind the counter. “Good afternoon. What brings you out today? It’s positively brutal out there.”

“Maisy, I require something hot to thaw me or I shan’t continue venturing down the way.”

“It’s so cold you turned into a Puritan?” Maisy laughed. “But I agree. I’ve shivered all day and keep gulping tea. I keep my icy fingers cuddling this.” She held a thick pottery mug to her lips and sipped.

Piper peeled her gloves off one finger at a time, dropping them on the counter. “Where did this deep freeze come from? I wasn’t paying attention to the weather report. Did you know the weather was supposed to drop below zero so soon?”

“No. I didn’t pay attention either, but at least it’s not as bitter cold as the last polar vortex Wisconsin sent us.”
Piper groaned. “Don’t dredge up awful memories. At least we can function in these temperatures. Remember when they canceled mail delivery last time?”

“I know.” Maisy shivered. “I’m worried no one will come out if it doesn’t warm up soon. I’m sure the temperature will ease up long before the Christkindlmarket though. How’s your to-do list coming along?”

A cross between a groan and a squeak rushed from Piper. “Please don’t remind me. I’m up to my eyeballs in details and I don't think the chores will ever end.”

“You’ll get everything done, and we’ll celebrate like the fine, fun-loving folks we are.” Maisy arranged a cinnamon apple butter scone on a dainty gold-rimmed saucer, and slid the treat across the counter. She filled a teacup decorated with holly and berries with steaming tea. “Eat. You need hot tea and carbs to fortify you while you navigate the frozen tundra.”

Piper rested in an overstuffed chair in the corner. “You have no idea. You’re the best, Maisy. What is Tea Thyme selling at the Christkindlmarket?”

Maisy’s eyes sparkled. “Right now, I’m busy testing holiday blends—spicy concoctions with cinnamon and berries—and packaging the tea in gold tins. Rosie is painting the product labels for me, and hand lettering ‘Cranberry Harbor Christkindlmarket’ across the top.”

“Ooh. I look forward to sampling your amazing recipes.” Piper drained her tea, gulped the last piece of scone, and grinned. “I know. Not very ladylike. Please don’t tell my mother.”

Maisy grinned. “My lips are sealed, friend.”

Piper tugged on her gloves and bundled up, twisting the scarf tightly around her face. “I’ll catch up later. Oh, did the Earl Grey tea I ordered for my dad’s gift arrive?”
“I expect the shipment on Friday. I’ll call you.”

“Thanks.”

“Stay warm,” Maisy called.

“Bye,” Piper called as she stepped out of the cozy tea shop.

The brisk wind whistled down Main Street, blowing against Piper and stinging her eyes. She rushed down the sidewalk to Cassidy’s yarn store, wondering why she hadn’t stayed home bundled in her quilt this morning. A crackling fire, a steaming mug of tea, and a well-written novel beckoned her home. Anything seemed better than battling this arctic cold. But she had Christmas gifts to purchase and vendor details to confirm.
Why I offered to lead the market this year, I’ll never know. Sign up to lead the market, they said. It will be fun, they said.