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    A Friend in Death - A Short Read: A Moonlight Bay Psychic Mystery, #1
    A Friend in Death - A Short Read: A Moonlight Bay Psychic Mystery, #1
    A Friend in Death - A Short Read: A Moonlight Bay Psychic Mystery, #1
    Ebook87 pages2 hours

    A Friend in Death - A Short Read: A Moonlight Bay Psychic Mystery, #1

    By K.J. Emrick and Kathryn De Winter

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    About this ebook

    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?

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherSouth Coast Publishing
    Release dateJun 4, 2017
    ISBN9781386901525
    A Friend in Death - A Short Read: A Moonlight Bay Psychic Mystery, #1

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      Book preview

      A Friend in Death - A Short Read - K.J. Emrick

      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

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