Young Adult Cozy Mystery
Date Published: 6/23/25
Publisher: The Wild Rose Press
With no good options, Sara enters the contest and finds herself at a fabulous mansion up against eight formidable opponents, each with a dark secret and all racing to solve seven levels of riddles and puzzles.
After a contestant’s body is discovered, Sara contemplates dropping out when another package arrives, its chilling contents making clear she’s at the center of a dangerous game with deadly consequences if she quits. But what it doesn’t say is—what happens if she wins?
The attorney opened the blue folder. “Before reading the contest
rules, I would like to briefly introduce the contestants, all of whom are based
in the greater-Birmingham area, and their associates, if any.” He nodded in my
direction. “With the exception of Miss Donovan, who is from Annapolis but goes
to school in Tuscaloosa. When I say your name, please raise your hand.” His
attention focused on the man who saw himself superior to all in the room. “Mr.
Karsh Azarian.”
The pompous violin expert flicked a hand.
Winston nodded toward
the man. “Mr. Azarian, who is here on his own, is a former collegiate
basketball player at an academically-elite university and financial asset
manager with an enviable record of providing returns that consistently beat the
market by a surprising margin.” He paused. “And apparently, he’s also a
Stradivarius aficionado.”
Azarian glowered but said nothing.
“Ms. Jessica Doerr,” Winston said, looking at a
platinum-bottle-blonde unsuccessfully trying to appear in her fifties. She
briefly raised her hand. Next to her sat a withered woman easily in her
eighties. “Ms. Doerr, who is here with her mother, Virginia Byrd, is a mortgage
banker with her own agency, specializing in refinancing services for the senior
community.” He looked to the flip-flops dude slumped in one of the chairs. “Mr.
Rodney Toft.”
“I go by Rod,” the frizzy-haired man stressed.
“Very well,” Winston
replied. “Mr. Toft, who brought his girlfriend, Ashley Tennison, is a
cryptocurrency exchange investor and trader as well as a technology venture
capitalist. His recent meteoric rise with regards to wealth generation has been
the talk of the financial world.” He motioned to the seething lady who had
spoken up earlier. With a fake smile, he said, “Everyone met Ms. Olivia
Fantucci, who is an attorney with her own firm specializing in large
class-action lawsuits and personal injury. People either love her or hate her.”
The lady returned the attorney’s plastic smile with a death stare,
thin lips pressed tight, eyes mere slits. Menacing.
Winston’s smile broadened, lingering on Fantucci for a second or
two. “Ms. Fantucci’s associate is her friend, Marissa Chevalier.” He turned to
a trim grandfatherly-looking man with short, white hair, a receding hairline,
and a hooked nose. Sitting next to him was an elegantly-understated woman with
an air of quiet wealth and privilege. “Mr. Spencer Fernsby.”
The man half-stood and threw a little wave and nod before sitting
again.
“Mr. Fernsby, who is
here with his wife of forty-eight years, Kathleen Fernsby, is the founder, CEO,
and majority shareholder of the telecom giant, CLATEL Communications. In a mere
five years, Mr. Fernsby has overseen the growth of CLATEL from a mid-sized
regional provider to a national behemoth and stock-market darling.” Winston
gestured to the gorgeous musician. “You also have met Mr. James Dougal, who,
like Mr. Azarian, is here on his own. He is a real estate agent with his own
agency specializing in high-end luxury properties.”
Dougal stood and bowed, a glittery smile on his face. “If you’re
looking to buy or sell, call—”
“Mr. Dougal,” Winston
interjected, “this is neither the time nor place for personal aggrandizement
or”—he gave him the snootiest of looks—“advertising.”
Jimmy’s heartwarming smile vanished. Putting up a hand, he said,
“My apologies,” and quickly sat.
Like he did earlier with Fantucci, Winston’s gaze lingered on
Jimmy before addressing the car salesman. “Mr. Burl Jablonsky is the owner of
four car dealerships—”
“Five,” Scooter said.
“Excuse me, five car dealerships including—”
“Just opened the fifth last month. Probably why you don’t have it
in that there file.”
Winston eyed the beaming Jablonsky. “Yes, of course, you did. Mr.
Jablonsky is the owner of five car
dealerships including two luxury
franchises. Correct, Mr. Jablonsky?”
The car man gave a thumbs-up. “Yes, sir. And like I said, y’all
can call me Scooter. Got the nickname way back when I bought a scooter
franchise and my baby brother here, Billy—”
Winston broke in.
“Thank you, Mr. Jablonsky, but you can regale everyone with your colorful life
stories over the next two weeks during dinner, which I will be getting to
momentarily. Mr. Jablonsky’s brother, William Jablonsky, is his associate.” He
extended an arm toward a dull-looking man in a plain black suit with a long,
narrow face, pallid skin, and slicked-down silver hair combed to the side. “Now
here we have Mr. Frederick Volkov, an immensely successful financier, stock
trader, and arbitrageur. And as all can see, Mr. Volkov’s associate is his
brother, Ivan Volkov.”
The dour Frederick Volkov sat motionless, heavy-lidded gray eyes
focused on Winston with a burning intensity contrary to his persona. Next to
him sat a carbon copy of the man, less the white-hot glare. His identical twin.
And I mean—identical. Right down to the suits they wore.
Winston turned to me. “And last but certainly not least, we have
Miss Sara Donovan, a business student at the University of Alabama and a
nationally-recognized amateur sleuth. With her is Miss Donovan’s friend, Miss
Zoe Harp.”
I gave a half-wave, my ears burning.
Winston consulted the folder in his hand. “Miss Donovan is the
only contestant under twenty-one, although she will be celebrating a birthday
tomorrow.” His gaze settled on me. “Which happens to be the Ides of March.”
Scooter jumped up. “Hey, y’all, you know what they say,”—he jabbed
a stubby finger at me—“beware the Ides of March.”
About the Author
B.T. Polcari is a graduate of Rutgers College of Rutgers University, an award-winning mystery author, and a proud father of two wonderful children. He’s a champion of rescue pups (Mauzzy is a rescue), craves watching football and basketball, and, of course, loves reading mysteries. Among his favorite authors are Richard Osman, D.P. Lyle, Frederick Forsyth, and Michael Connelly. He is also an unapologetic fantasy football addict. He lives with his wife in scenic Chattanooga, Tennessee.
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