Moonlight Bay Psychic Mysteries Books 1-6: Moonlight Bay Psychic Mystery Box Set, #1

Moonlight Bay Psychic Mysteries

Short Reads - Books 1-6

K. J. Emrick

Kathryn De Winter

Copyright

First published in Australia by South Coast Publishing, June/July 2017. Copyright K.J. Emrick and Kathryn De Winter (2017)

K.J. Emrick (2012-2021)

This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents and locations portrayed in this book and the names herein are fictitious. Any similarity to or identification with the locations, names, characters or history of any person, product or entity is entirely coincidental and unintentional.

- From a Declaration of Principles jointly adopted by a Committee of the American Bar Association and a Committee of Publishers and Associations.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording, or any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

No responsibility or liability is assumed by the Publisher for any injury, damage or financial loss sustained to persons or property from the use of this information, personal or otherwise, either directly or indirectly. While every effort has been made to ensure reliability and accuracy of the information within, all liability, negligence or otherwise, from any use, misuse or abuse of the operation of any methods, strategies, instructions or ideas contained in the material herein, is the sole responsibility of the reader. Any copyrights not held by publisher are owned by their respective authors.

All information is generalized, presented for informational purposes only and presented as is without warranty or guarantee of any kind.

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Contents

A Friend in Death

Free Book!!

Description

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Death on the Rocks

Description

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Feature Presentation: Death

Description

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Manor of Death

Description

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Death by Chocolate Cake

Description

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

A-Maze-Ing Death

Description

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

More Info

About the Authors

A Friend in Death

A Moonlight Bay Psychic Mystery Short Read 1

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Description

Introducing Miranda Wylder... A Pyschic/Medium and Crime Novelist who inadvertently gets tangled up in Murder!

From the author of the Darcy Sweet Mystery Series.

Miranda Wylder is on her way up. Life is good for the Psychic/Medium Crime Novelist with one successful novel already and a second on its way up the charts.

But then her best friend, Kyle Hunter, is murdered right in her own backyard and the detective in charge of the investigation seems determined to put her in the frame.

She has to convince the police of her innocence so she must use her intuition and deduction, along with help from Kyle's ghost, to discover the truth behind the murder and to see the true Killer behind bars.

In this Psychic Mystery, can Miranda overcome this terrible truth to see justice done?

Chapter 1

Her cheeks flushing with the heat, Miranda Wylder inspected the roast carefully before closing the oven door again. The lamb was doing nicely and its wonderful aroma reminded her of just how hungry she was. Guessing it needed another twenty minutes, she checked her watch and smiled. There would be plenty of time to finish cooking and sit down for a minute or two before Kyle arrived. Miranda looked around her spotless and modern white kitchen and was glad she’d done the cleaning the day before. At least she could relax now.

The hot air blowing from the oven had fluttered through the ends of her deep red hair and she took a moment to feather it back into place with her fingers. It was getting long. It was already past the tops of her shoulders, and in her sleeveless shirt she could feel it tickling the skin along her back. Her eyebrows were a different shade, almost black, and it gave her a sort of haunting appearance. In a good way, her last boyfriend had promised her. Maybe her next serious guy would feel the same way.

Okay, Miranda said under her breath. There’s time enough to water my babies.

Miranda walked out of the kitchen and into her bright and spacious living room. This was possibly her most favorite space in the whole house. It was a true square with white walls and beautiful thick grey carpet which never failed to caress Miranda’s almost-always bare feet. There were great arched windows on either side of the fireplace and immense sliding patio doors on the adjacent wall. At just about any time of the day, the room was filled with glorious daylight. Over on one side, her deep grey couch complete with plush navy chevron print cushions begged for her to come and lie down for a bit.

Ha. In a few minutes. Promise.

Through the sliding glass patio doors Miranda looked out to see her watering can was still on top of the mosaic tiled patio table, just where she’d left it. She hummed contentedly to herself as she stepped out into the courtyard, feeling the warmth of the flagstones beneath her feet in the late afternoon sun.

Life didn’t get any better than this.

The courtyard had been very well used since Miranda had moved in. She was by no means a keen gardener, but the courtyard with its tiny patch of grass and low maintenance flagstones was just right for her. There was nothing much to it, just pretty plants and crushed stone and a hedge high enough to provide a little privacy from her neighbors. A little latticed gate opened out onto a paved pathway that led to the sidewalk.

Miranda took the watering can and turned toward the terracotta planter full of her blood-red geraniums and, gasping, she dropped the watering can onto the flagstones. It bounced, and spilled shockingly cold water all over the legs of her jeans and her warm bare feet.

There, in front of the planter, lay the body of a man. A dead man. He was curled up with his back to her and his knees were pulled in near his chest in the fetal position.

Of course, Miranda would have screamed if the scene before her had been a real one. As shocked as she was, the curious blueish quality of the light all around the man told Miranda that he was not really there. Maybe he had been, once upon a time. Maybe long ago. Or maybe he would be found like this one day. Maybe far off into the future. Her gift didn't always manifest this way and although rare, Miranda had encountered a few of these visions before in her lifetime.

And when they did come it was always frustrating for her as she never knew if the things she saw were in the past, in the future, or even if they had any connection to her whatsoever. Often, the scenes she alone witnessed were nothing more than echoes. A replay of a long-gone event, with nothing for her to do but silently and pointlessly bear witness, remember, and try to forget.

And yet this felt different from the few scenes of this nature that Miranda had previously witnessed. There was something familiar about the man. She couldn’t say what. His back was to her, laying like this. Miranda felt a sudden, sweeping sadness. Something about this image simply reeked of tragedy. Standing as still as a rock, Miranda tried to take in more details. Why did he look so familiar? She couldn’t see his face, and didn’t recognize his very nondescript clothing. The jeans he wore were straight off the rack, and the jacket was some kind of pseudo military affair in fashionably faded khaki.

Well. Just because he was dead didn’t mean she couldn’t appreciate his style. This was sort of a laid-back, relaxed masculine look.

She should look at his face. She should find out who this might be.

Miranda took a step forward and focused harder, and just like always when she put forth the effort, the scene before her evaporated. The man was gone. The normal bright light of a sunny sky bathed the flagstones again.

Feeling more sad than shaken, she bent forward and picked up the watering can. It was empty and worse, dented. With a sigh, she turned back toward the patio doors. Wiping her soggy feet on the mat, Miranda strode back through the lounge and on into the kitchen. As she set the watering can into the sink, she pondered on the scene she had just witnessed. Why had he looked so familiar?

Miranda turned on the tap and listened as the water thundered a beat on the bottom of the watering can. Slowly, her eyes went wide as realization sank in. She understood.

The water reached the top of the can, and flowed over the sides as she continued to stand there. The man hadn’t looked familiar, he had felt familiar.

Suddenly, Miranda felt cold down to her bones.

It was several more minutes before she remembered to turn the tap off.

With the lamb cooling on the stovetop and everything else ready for dinner, Miranda made short work of setting the table. She smiled to herself when she looked at the centerpiece in the middle of the table. It was the same one she had made when she’d first moved into the house. She felt at home whenever she saw it.

She’d had writer’s block at the time and nothing else to do and so, following a few helpful guidelines in a home and lifestyle magazine that she’d bought on a whim, Miranda had created a real talking point. It was a rectangular glass vase filled with white sand and beautiful shells she had found along the nearby beach. This was Australia, after all, and no place was more than a day’s drive from a beach. Well, no place civilized, at least.

She’d even added in a couple of plaster starfish to the vase, and some little tealight candles. The whole thing sat in a deep old wooden tray she had found in a thrift store and cleaned up. All in all, she was very pleased with it. Even Kyle, for whom such things tended to fly below the radar, had commented on it.

Miranda cast her eye over the little desk over in the corner where she ordinarily liked to work, or procrastinate by staring out the picture window at the world. Pages of notes and a stack of customized bookmarks she had made for the book signing event she had scheduled in town tomorrow were strewn across it. She hadn’t meant to leave it so messy. Kyle was sure to comment on it if she didn’t fix it up now.

In a heartbeat, she made a neat pile of the papers and magazine spreads she had made ready to put in her portfolio. On top, there was a half-page ad from The Story Magazine for a crime serial she had just sold. As she straightened up the paperwork, Miranda smiled. She didn’t do so much serial work for magazines anymore, especially since her crime novels had begun to take off in a big way.

Still, work was work, and money was money. Her mother had taught her that one.

Miranda looked up to the deep shelf above the table where she kept the myriad of contributor copies of her books. Miranda had a good agent and a publisher on board, keen to take her next four novels. She was doing well and sometimes she had to pinch herself to make sure it was real. Every time she thought of the book signing event, Miranda’s beaming smile almost split her face in two.

Who’s on her way up? she asked herself. This girl, that’s who!

Miranda checked her watch again. It wouldn’t be long before Kyle arrived. She made her way back out into the kitchen. With nothing left to do—finally—she picked up the letter from her Uncle Horatio which she had left on the kitchen counter. Horatio lived out in a small town called Moonlight Bay, in a great rambling old house called Ragged Rest that had been in the family forever. One more time, she scanned the contents.

She smiled when she thought of him. He’d been just about her favorite relation as a kid growing up. Horatio was always great fun and always had travel tales to tell.

This time, however, the letter wasn’t just about grand journeys. It was about Uncle Horatio living day after day in Ragged Rest, and his strong desire that someone would look after it if anything ever happened to him. Being a straight up-and-down kind of a guy, Horatio had come straight to the point and asked Miranda to consider moving into Ragged Rest while he went off traveling again.

As much as Miranda loved Moonlight Bay, she’d really found her feet here in Melbourne. Beyond a shadow of a doubt, she was a city girl. She wasn’t keen to uproot herself and move again.

Miranda!

As always, Kyle shouted her name at the same time he loudly knocked on the patio door. Miranda smiled and shook her head, he was so wonderfully predictable. Quickly she refolded the letter and stowed it into the kitchen drawer she tended to use for mail. Then she rushed for the door to greet him. Trust Kyle to use the back door. She didn’t ever remember him coming to the front door in all the time she’d known him.

All right, I’m coming, she called as Kyle knocked again but before she reached him he’d slid the door open and popped his head inside looking all about for her. She felt a wide grin splitting her face at the sight of her best friend.

I could smell that lamb all the way up the path, Kyle said with a return smile as he spotted her, stepping inside and closing the door behind him. It smells wonderful, and I’m starving.

He kissed her cheek, as he always did, and then kicked off his sandals in one fluid movement. Miranda could not help but smile, shaking her head at his antics. The way Kyle kicked off his trademark sandals always reminded her of a kid about to get on a bouncy castle, all hurry and excitement, and not a care for how the footwear actually landed.

Well, it’s always reassuring to know my food critic at least likes the smell. She took his hand to lead him toward the kitchen. Come on, let’s have a drink before dinner. Wine?

Red please. Whatever philistine brand you have, Kyle said, with a wicked chuckle.

Have you ever noticed, she told him, how you’re harder on me than you are on any of the establishments you critique for your magazines?

She raised an eyebrow at him in mock seriousness. Kyle was good at what he did, which was why several major magazines carried his column on the where-tos and where-nots to eat. To look at him you’d never know he made his living eating food. He was rail-thin, tall and wiry, with a sandy brown beard a shade or two lighter than the tousled hair on his head that came down over the tips of his ears. When he was eating professionally—as he called it—he wore slacks and dress shoes and a tie to the restaurants he was critiquing. Here, he had on jean shorts and a long-sleeved t-shirt. Miranda thought he looked wonderful in them.

Oh, don’t take me serious, he said to Miranda, accepting one of the two wine glasses she’d poured. I always love your cooking really.

But, you’re harder on me than you ever are in your articles. I’ve never read a harsh review from you yet. Firm, yes. Fair, certainly. But never harsh.

Apart from the one I wrote about The Coffee Ambience, Kyle said with a shrug.

Oh, yes. That one. Miranda chuckled to remember it, clinking her glass against his. I could hardly believe it was you who had written it when I saw it in the local papers. I almost felt bad for the owner of that place.

Usually Kyle chose to give bad reviews by omission. If he didn’t like the ambience, he called it standard. If he didn’t like the service, he referred to it as almost adequate, meaning the food somehow or other made its way to the table, even if only in the hands of the world’s most inept waitress. Over time, his followers had learned and warmed to his code. It made his reviews unique in a sea of people doing the same thing. He was certainly popular enough to have kept his post at The Metropolitan Chronicle, the city’s most widely read newspaper.

Yes, well, Kyle swallowed a good swig of his wine, actually looking concerned. That whole thing with the Coffee Ambience has come back to haunt me.

Miranda wasn’t sure she understood. That bad?

Yep. But in my defense, it was the worst place I’ve ever eaten at. Anyway, let’s change the subject. This is supposed to be a fun night for us. Let’s talk about something else, please. He gave her a grin that was something less than convincing.

Okay. She didn’t want to press the issue and ruin the night. How’s the lovely Markus?

There was a moments pause which had Miranda looking at him quizzically. We’re finished, Kyle said, with a rueful grin.

I’m so sorry, Kyle. I’m not doing very well tonight, am I? Totally standard ambience, huh?

It’s okay, Miranda. It was on the cards anyway.

Was it? Miranda asked, wishing that he’d mentioned this on the phone before dropping it on her here. Talk about embarrassing!

Yeah. Markus was getting antsy about my work. He said I was all about the job, you know?

Why? You’re a food critic, not a hard-bitten homicide detective out at all hours of the night! She was pleased when her comment got Kyle laughing heartily.

I know, I know! But there was no talking to him, so we’re splitsville. Look, let’s talk about your world, Miranda. So much brighter here, isn’t it?

Um, well. Perhaps a bit, she said, carrying the lamb through to the dining table.

Are you looking forward to your book signing?

Yes. And you will come to the after signing party tomorrow afternoon, right?

If only you weren’t signing books at The Coffee Ambience! Kyle said, wincing. Talk about rough coincidences!

I know, Kyle. It is kind of awkward. Miranda laughed. I promise I didn’t pick the venue. That was my publishing company.

The Coffee Ambience, besides being a trendy café in the city, was also a small bookseller. One of those places who wanted to be Starbucks without having the negative image of a coffee giant.

No worries, Kyle promised. I’ll be there. You know I will. Come on, carve up that lamb, I’m starving!

Miranda carved the lamb and pulled the roasted vegetables out of the oven’s warming tray.

Okay, dig in, she said with a grin.

So, do you reckon you’ll have a good turn out tomorrow? Kyle carried on where they’d left off. His first bite went into his mouth. Oh, this is divine!

"Thank you. As far as the turnout… I just don’t know. I mean, The Mob’s Calling did really well, so I’m hoping that Dance With The Devil will do the same."

The Mob’s Calling, her first novel, had been a hard-won victory for Miranda. After much research and two years of careful writing, it had finally secured her a great publisher. There was no looking back after that.

Can’t you just rub your crystal ball and look into the future? Kyle gave a laugh.

Funny! Miranda scoffed. Leave it to Kyle to make an off-color joke like that one. And anyway, I don’t have a crystal ball. That’s not how it works. Miranda was a psychic medium and her gift allowed her to talk to ghosts that either came to her or that she summoned for whatever reason.

It doesn’t work at all, you crazy lady.

Kyle had always poked fun at Miranda’s assertion that she was psychic, but since he didn’t believe in such things, they had always amicably agreed to differ on the subject.

They laughed together for a moment, until Kyle fell silent and his face seemed to flatten into a much more thoughtful look.

Hey, are you okay? Miranda asked.

Yes. Well, no. Kyle screwed up his face a little more. Look, I know I give you a hard time about the psychic stuff but… well… have you got any kind of bad feeling about the next couple of days?

What? Miranda felt odd even talking to him about this. Kyle just did not believe in her other world. So why was he even asking?

Just, well, have you?

No, Kyle. I mean, sometimes I get a feeling about trouble coming or what-have-you, but usually it’s more specific than just badness coming over the next few days. Why? What’s worrying you?

I just can’t shake the feeling that something bad is going to happen.

Oh, maybe you’re psychic.

Miranda! Kyle tried for a laugh, and almost made it. You know what? I’m probably just in a weird mood about the break-up with Markus. He and I were… well. We were. Let’s leave it at that.

Stranger things have happened. Miranda said, taking a sip of her wine.

Kyle’s cell phone suddenly trilled, making them both jump.

I’ve got to take this, he said, with an apologetic raising of his eyebrows. Miranda just nodded.

He jumped up and walked away into the living room. Miranda could see his agitated pacing as he was talking animatedly to the person on the other end of the line. The call was short and she watched as Kyle violently ended it with a stab of his finger to the screen of his phone. He pushed impatient fingers through his hair, leaving it messier than usual.

Everything okay? Miranda asked when Kyle returned to the table.

Sure. Just fantabulous. That was my editor at The Metropolitan Chronicle. You know Stewart Carter? The manager at The Coffee Ambience? Well, he’s looking to sue the paper for my review.

No way! That seems kind of petty.

Oh, he’s petty all right, Kyle said, with a sigh. Anyway, it looks like the paper is going to cave and we’re going to maybe print some kind of retraction or happy, smiley, let’s all eat the food even if it makes us barf follow-up. Kyle paused for a moment and then looked sideways at Miranda. Well… I take that back I guess. The food wasn’t that bad, actually. Everything else about the place was though. Either way, this little deal can’t be made public, so Stewart Carter comes up smelling like roses.

That stinks. Literally!

And I’ve got to meet Carter first thing in the morning to discuss it, Kyle winced.

Not good, Miranda winced back.

Maybe it’ll be for the best in the end. I’m tired of the weird emails.

What emails?

Oh, sorry. Probably shouldn’t have said anything.

Kyle, she pressed. Come on, we’re friends. Who else can you talk to?

She bit her tongue before she could add, now that you and Markus are no longer together.

You’re right, he said. Well. I’ve been getting hate mail. Can you believe that? Actual hate mail from someone at The Coffee Ambience who got fired because of my review. They were getting a bit aggressive, too.

Kyle! Now Miranda was getting concerned. That’s serious! Have you reported them to the police?

No, and I don’t intend to. Maybe it’s best to just put this thing to bed and get on with life, hmm?

Are you sure that’s a good idea? Shouldn’t you report it?

He just shook his head and Miranda could tell that he was done talking about it. She didn’t press it further even though she wanted to. They continued with their meal, making less than convincing small talk, until Kyle finally rose to his feet.

Look, Miranda, the meal was just lovely, but I’m going to make tracks. I want to prepare myself to talk to this yobbo tomorrow, okay?

Sure.

I’ll see you tomorrow after I’ve seen this Carter fellow for the after signing party, Kyle smiled at her. I promise.

Miranda averted her gaze from the gaudily printed sign outside The Coffee Ambience promising a book signing by local author Miranda Wylder. There were fewer people here than she’d hoped for, but it was still pretty early, just gone nine o’clock, and Miranda knew how these crowds could grow.

Inside, she found that a long folding table had been set up for her to use. She smiled slightly at the sight of several stacks of her books waiting for her signature. It never failed to make her feel all fluttery on the inside to know that people wanted to read her stories.

She took her place behind the table and was settling down for a long session of scrawling her signature when she reached into her handbag for the stack of bookmarks she’d brought with her. She’d had them created for just this occasion and they had the details of her website, Facebook author page and Twitter account printed on them. They were important for her marketing efforts. Only… they were nowhere to be seen.

Damn! This was inconvenient.

She must have left them on her desk at home. Perhaps Kyle could swing by her place and pick them up for her. After all, he was headed to this café later anyway, what with his appointment with Stewart Carter and all. She snagged her cell phone out of her bag. Kyle answered on the second ring and she quickly explained the situation. He had a key to her place for emergencies and she considered this a huge emergency.

He promised to get the bookmarks on his way in. He was a life saver.

The store was filling up nicely. She said a few positive things about fans and writing and dreams and such, and then fell into an easy rhythm of meeting people and signing the inside cover of her books.

Miranda was enjoying herself. The line of people was flowing smoothly and everyone seemed to be having a good time. She glanced at the clock on the side wall and was surprised to see that two hours had passed already.

Having just finished signing for a smiling middle-aged woman she wondered where Kyle had got to. It shouldn’t have taken him more than an hour to get to the Coffee Ambience. She looked all around the store, by now milling with dozens of people, to see if she’d somehow missed him. Just for a brief moment, over at the other side of the store between two men who seemed to be having a heated discussion, she thought she saw him coming toward her.

He lifted his hand as if to wave but a tall, rather severe looking woman crossed in front of his path and then he was gone. She stared at the spot where she thought she’d seen him but could only see the two men. Miranda felt there was something not quite right with the what she’d just seen but couldn’t put her finger on it.

She looked for the next person in line and was surprised to see Debra Thomas, a waitress at The Coffee Ambience, hovering there little nervously.

Debra was a young woman, in her middle twenties at most, with the smooth complexion and braided blonde hair of a model, and that frown she was wearing definitely looked out of place.

Hey Debra, what’s up? You here to have me sign a book for you?

Sort of, yes, she said, casting her eyes toward the back of the store where the café was. I wanted to get a book signed, but I’m not sure I should really be here.

Why? You work here.

Not anymore. I guess you didn’t hear that Stewart fired me after the rough review we had.

Oh. So this was the ex-employee that Kyle had mentioned. Was this the one sending him the emails? She put on a guarded smile. I’m so sorry, Debra.

She gestured helplessly with one hand. "It’s fine. No, really. To be honest, life has been a little hard for me lately and I was taking it out on the customers. I told Stewart all about it, and that I