Rosemary wet her lips and tightened her grip on the steering wheel, her gaze fixed firmly on the winding country road ahead. She felt the thrill of the drive sink into her bones and pressed on, the scenery becoming a wash of bright blues, greens, and yellows. The road swooped and curved beneath the tires, and soon, she was completely enveloped in the beauty of nature. In an effortless motion, Rosemary downshifted, took a corner sharply, and then accelerated again, feeling her long blond hair blowing wildly in the wind.

A glance in the rear-view mirror showed her brother, Frederick, his golden locks also mussed, and her beau, Max, each becoming more white-knuckled with every twist and turn. Amused, Rosemary pushed the speedster harder still, a wild thrill coursing through her veins. Her best friend and sister-in-law, Vera, sat beside her, utterly unfazed. Beneath a smart little cap, even Vera’s short crop of bobbed hair remained unruffled by the wind.

The car, its rumbling engine sounding to Rosemary like the purr of a contented kitten, she’d recently purchased on a whim. Frederick had admonished her, insisting that his wife would now surely crave for one herself, but secretly, he’d been impressed by his sister’s spontaneity. Now, however, he looked like he wanted to strangle her, which was an expression Rosemary knew quite well.

“What’s troubling you, Freddie? You look a little green,” she prodded merrily.

Frederick snorted. “Well then, sister dear, that makes two of us. If you ask me, envy towards our new American friend and her car collection prompted this purchase. Unless you mean to tell me you’ve always possessed the urge to race through the countryside like a bat out of hell?”

With a narrow-eyed glare, Rosemary jerked the gearstick into place and took the pedal to the floor. The throaty rev of the car’s engine answered her call, and it surged ahead. She didn’t waste her breath replying to Frederick’s comment, mostly because there was a kernel of truth in it. The friend he referred to, Imogene, was a single, independent woman who carried a pistol, drove a convertible, and didn’t take flack from anyone. Who wouldn’t admire that kind of spunk and panache?

Even so, Rosemary couldn’t help wanting to have the last word, so a split second before the sleek, cherry-red speedster crested the next hill, she took her foot off the gas and enjoyed the pleasant feeling of weightlessness for one long moment.

“Oh!” From the passenger seat, Vera squealed with glee, bringing a vision of a much younger version of her to Rosemary’s mind. “That was exhilarating!”

Frederick and Max, both looking a bit worse for the wear, disagreed, and since Rosemary didn’t fancy the notion of them sicking up in her new car, she mercifully reduced her speed and began to motor along at a more sedate pace.

When Vera mentioned her next acting job, Max became distracted, his expression finally shifting from concern to interest.

“It’s a murder mystery weekend,” she explained, eyes twinkling. “Our first performance is in two weeks, and it’s to be held at Ravenstone Castle. You and Max will come, won’t you?” she implored Rosemary. “Freddie, my supposed doting husband, is abandoning me.” Vera’s bottom lip jutted out just a bit, and she cast a forlorn glance in his direction.

“We had a good run, dear,” Frederick replied with a merry wink. He had always been a jolly sort; it was part of his charm, and his romance with Vera had only further heightened his spirits. “I’ve got business to tend to, and the gentlemen from Brussels don’t give a fig if it’s Halloween weekend.”

“Not to mention, nobody else stands a chance at solving a fake murder with two authentic sleuths around.” Frederick grinned and jerked a thumb towards Max and Rosemary.

Vera’s eyes tilted skyward, but she could hardly argue with that logic. “Well? Will you come?” she prodded.

In the mirror, Max and Rosemary exchanged a glance. “You’ve got to explain to Max how the whole thing works. I’m not certain I fully understand myself.”

Her enthusiasm rising to a dramatic crescendo, Vera turned all the way around in her seat. “Prepare yourself for a weekend of enigma and intrigue! We’re calling it an immersive theater experience. Rather than watching the events play out on stage, you’ll be part of the performance, interacting with the actors. There’s a general story, of course, but there’s quite a bit of improvisational work.”

Vera practically salivated at the notion.

“Quite an intriguing prospect,” Max admitted thoughtfully.

“It almost doesn’t seem fair to bring along a CID detective and a lady sleuth with a pile of solved cases,” Frederick commented with a raised brow. “They’ll likely have the whole thing solved before dinner on Friday evening!”

Vera scoffed, “I’ll have you know the plot is based on a play written by a new female author who’s being touted as the next Arthur Conan Doyle, so perhaps it won’t be as simple as you think!”

Being possessed with more than fluff betwixt his ears, Frederick knew better than to make any sort of comment regarding the female playwright and said only, “At least this time, none of the victims will actually be dead. That ought to take the pressure off, don’t you think?” He jabbed an elbow in Max’s direction.

Rosemary’s nostrils flared, and she treated her brother to an exasperated frown, but Max merely smiled wryly at the comment. Rosemary’s gaze stayed trained on the reflection of his face while Vera waxed on about the weekend, noting that he seemed content to remain silent and pensive throughout. As much as she admired his easygoing nature, she wished she could divine from his expression some clue to his thoughts.

Upon return from her extended American holiday, Rosemary was disturbed to discover her relationship with Max had come to something of a standstill. She began to feel as though his feelings had cooled during her absence and, after an inordinate amount of thought, realized the rift may have begun to form even before her departure.

Was it the stress of courting his dearly departed best mate’s widow that had caused Max to pull away? Or her propensity for interfering with his murder investigations? Either of those obstacles might have been enough to end the relationship, but throw in a romantic rival, and perhaps Max had simply hit his limit.

When Rosemary informed Max that Frederick’s childhood chum, Desmond Cooper, would be along for the holiday, he hadn’t been thrilled. It hadn’t been so long since Desmond and Max had been in stiff competition for her affection. She had made her choice, with Max coming out as the clear winner, but couldn’t help wondering if Max still questioned her loyalty.

The timing, Rosemary thought, was ironic, given that although she had, indeed, admired her American friend Imogene’s independent lifestyle, the experience served as a reminder of how badly she wanted Max in her life.

Perhaps she’d finally pushed him too far.

Her thoughts were interrupted by Vera, who was busy extolling the virtues of Ravenstone Castle and all that it had to offer. “It’s absolutely marvelous,” she enthused. “The grounds are sprawling, and the castle itself is massive. What do you say?”

In the mirror, Max nodded in agreement.

“Yes, Vera, you can count us in,” Rosemary said with a smile.

Feeling a wave of relief wash over her, she pressed the brake and turned the car around, heading back towards London. The rolling hills of the countryside flew past as they sped along, but Rosemary no longer noticed. Instead, she watched Max out of the corner of her eye and felt excitement bubble up within her.

Could this murder mystery weekend be an opportunity to rekindle their romance?

If it did, Rosemary decided she would owe Vera a debt of gratitude, and she knew exactly how she would repay it – by convincing Freddie his wife ought to have a matching speedster!