The Case of the Scarlet Snakebite

The Case of the Scarlet Snakebite

In this middle-grade mystery, a twelve-year-old obsessed with Agatha Christie suspects every guest at her mother's bed-and-breakfast of hiding secrets. That is until a real crime rocks the quaint B&B, and her mother is framed for it. When the wealthy Willoughby family checks into her mother’s bed-and-breakfast for the weekend, Amber Adler is certain a crime is going to be committed right under their roof. And she should know - she’s read every Agatha Christie novel in the library and her father is a world-famous detective. Sure, Amber has made a few false accusations (and once got the SWAT team sent to her math teacher’s house), but this time, she’s positive that one of their guests is up to no good. So it comes as no surprise to Amber when someone steals a priceless ruby belonging to the crotchety Willoughby patriarch. But what she didn't expect was for her mother to be framed for it. Now, Amber must call on everything she knows about solving mysteries to find the stone and catch the real culprit before the family checks out-- and learn that sometimes, people are the greatest mystery of all. “A clever story featuring a large, shady family, hilarious puns, and a plucky detective who can’t help getting in trouble. Like Knives Out for kids. A delight for mystery lovers!” —G. Z. Schmidt, author of The Curious Vanishing of Beatrice Willoughby “ Agatha Christie fans of all ages will fall in love with twelve-year-old Amber Adler, detective-in-training, as she tackles The Case of the Scarlet Snakebite ! A super-enjoyable read for young detectives everywhere! I can’t wait to see what mysteries Amber Adler—who is full of both heart and logic—solves next.” —Taryn Souders, author of Edgar Award–nominated Coop Knows the Scoop and other mysteries “The Case of the Scarlet Snakebite is another fantastic tale from Christyne Morrell! Amber's eager sleuthing pulls readers along in this fun and funny mystery , and kids will love prowling through the bed and breakfast and unearthing the culprits’ secrets with her. A cozy setting and a cast of wacky suspects sets the stage for this terrific story of an enthusiastic young detective and her first big case. ” —Elizabeth C. Bunce, author of the Edgar Award–winning Myrtle Hardcastle series "Clever, humorous, and endearing....Morrell includes small details that young sleuths will enjoy noting as they try to solve the case alongside Amber. Intelligent and funny, just like its narrator ." — Kirkus Reviews " A fun-filled homage to cozy mystery classics." — Publishers Weekly " A humorous whodunit for anyone who appreciates a great mystery along with a good laugh." —Booklist "This is the absolute definition of a cozy mystery , with a quirky cast of characters, a charming small-town setting, and low stakes...hand this to the reader whose heroes are Sherlock, Nancy, and the Hardy boys." —The Bulletin Christyne Morrell is the author of The Curse of the Dead Man's Diamond , Trex and Kingdom of Secrets . When she’s not writing for kids, Christyne is busy raising one. She is a corporate attorney, and in her spare time enjoys reading, baking, and watching House Hunters marathons. Chapter 1 Friday, 12:00 p.m. (16 hours earlier) I nudge the door open, and it releases a long, slow wail. This building is hundreds of years old, and it acts its age—­everything creaks and moans and rattles. Everything makes a fuss. But all that racket makes my job easier, so I can’t complain. I’m wearing all black, down to my ballet flats. The only glint of color comes from the gold name tag pinned to my shirt with Amber Adler etched in block letters. I creep silently into the room and flit from place to place, my toes barely grazing the floor as my eyes dart around, taking in every detail—­the disheveled bed, the damp towels strewn on lampshades, the bottles littering the desk, leaking sticky puddles of who-­knows-­what onto the antique wood. I unzip the black faux leather pouch around my waist and remove a pair of latex gloves. I slide them onto my hands one at a time, snapping them at the wrists to make sure they’re good and tight. They release a puff of sterile powder into the air. I run a fingertip over every surface—nightstands, doorknobs, windowsills—­then examine the residue in the light. Messy, yes. But not criminal. I make my way into the adjoining bathroom. Like the rest of the place, it’s in disarray. I shake my head, and as I do, something near the floorboards catches my eye. The light spilling out of the vintage sconces glints off a shard of metal. “Well, well, well,” I mutter to myself. “What do we have here?” I crouch down for a closer look. The object is small but incredibly sharp. I count four blades jutting from its squat handle, each one angled and gleaming. I know I shouldn’t smile—­not in the midst of an active crime scene—­but I can’t help myself. From my pouch, I remove a plastic evidence bag with a ziplock top. I carefully pluck the weapon f