Page 21 of Obscurity (Pros and Cons Mysteries #5)

“ W elcome to Grayfall Festival!” Max turned and announced with what sounded like forced enthusiasm. “Your home for the next three days!”

The group stood in stunned silence, taking in the scene before them.

“Is that . . . is that the main stage?” Maya held her phone high as she tried to capture the scene for her followers. Her voice made it clear she was disappointed.

What had been advertised as a “main stage with a state-of-the-art sound system” was actually a wooden platform that looked like it had been assembled that morning. There were visible gaps between the boards, and the speakers appeared to have been borrowed from a high school gymnasium.

“It’s what we call an intimate acoustic setting,” Max said.

“This was created to give you the ultimate backwoods experience. It matches the areas where many of these artists grew up. Besides, it’s got a much better sound quality than those massive corporate festivals.

You’ll feel like you’re in the artists’ living room. ”

Artists’ living room? That was a good one. Some people might even buy it.

“And over there,” Tom gestured toward a cluster of tents, “are your glamping accommodations.”

Olive stared at the area. It was located beside the river that ran through town, in what probably used to be a park. However, if someone started sleepwalking at night, they were likely to walk right off the steep banks and into the rapids.

It seemed like a terrible idea.

“Each site comes with premium camping gear and all the amenities you’ll need for a comfortable wilderness experience,” Tom finished, sounding as if he’d memorized a script.

Her gaze went from the area where the tents were set up to the tents themselves.

The “glamping” accommodations were clearly just regular camping tents with equipment that looked like it had been rented in bulk from a discount outdoor store. No platforms, no electricity, no luxury amenities—just circles of trampled earth with Coleman tents and basic camp chairs.

“Wait.” The obnoxious frat boy who’d mentioned moonshine earlier stepped from the crowd. “I paid for luxury. This is just . . . rustic camping.”

“Luxury is relative.” Max’s smile looked more strained than it had a few minutes earlier. “You’re surrounded by pristine wilderness, breathing clean mountain air, sleeping under the stars. That’s worth more than any fancy hotel room.”

Maya frantically hit buttons on her phone. “I’m still not getting any signal. My phone shows full bars, but nothing’s loading. How am I supposed to stream parts of this to my followers?”

“Mountain terrain can be tricky for cell service,” Sorrel explained. “That’s part of the digital detox experience we advertised. It’s time to disconnect from the outside world and reconnect with music and nature.”

As he said the words, the helicopter rose in the distance, cutting into the supposedly gentle sounds of nature. It appeared the band had been delivered.

Someone beside her muttered something about wishing they could catch a ride.

As the copter lifted away and out of sight, Olive pulled out her own phone and confirmed Maya’s observation. The signal strength indicator showed excellent coverage, but nothing would load. No texts, no calls, no internet. It was as if the phones were receiving a signal that led nowhere.

She let out a frustrated grunt. This was even worse than she thought.

“And over there is where our cookout will take place.” Max pointed to a large white tent set up in what was probably a public parking lot at one time. “Help yourself to the food that’s been prepared.”

Before anyone could ask any more questions, a commotion near the food tent drew their attention. A small crowd had broken off from the “orientation” session and gathered inside—probably hungry after their long hike and meager lunch.

Their voices rose in complaint.

“What do you mean you’re only serving hot dogs?” someone shouted. “Hot dogs? There’s nothing gourmet about hot dogs. I’m hungry, and it’s dinnertime! Where’s my steak?”

The next moment, chaos broke loose.

Olive moved closer, Jason by her side.

She needed to know what was going on.

Inside the tent, plastic picnic tables had been set up in rows. At the back, there were banquet tables where food was being served. A man in a white chef’s hat seemed to be taking the brunt of people’s complaints.

“Sorry, folks,” the man said. “Our supplies are running late. This is all we’ve got right now.”

Maya pushed through the crowd, her composure finally cracking. “This is ridiculous! My followers are going to absolutely roast this place!”

“There’s plenty of food.” An edge of defensiveness filled the chef’s tone. “Hot dogs may not be ideal, but it’s what we’ve got until we get our next delivery.”

“What did you do?” Frat Boy yelled. “Forget to pay your vendors or something?”

Olive watched the scene unfold with growing unease. The food situation wasn’t just disappointing—it was potentially dangerous. If people were stranded here for three days with inadequate provisions and no way to leave . . .

“Ladies and gentlemen!” A new voice cut through the complaints.

Olive turned to see a man in his forties climb on top of one of the tables.

Before he said his name, she knew exactly who he was.

He was the man at the top of her suspect list.