by Morgana Best
“Thanks, Ian. I’m glad you came,” I said sincerely.
“I was going door-to-door, handing out these gospel tracts to encourage people to come to church,” he said.
I picked one up and looked at it. It showed several people engulfed in flames, with ‘Died in their sins!’ stamped all over the drawing.
“Very encouraging,” I said sarcastically.
Ian nodded.
“What is wrong with you?” a shrill voice screamed. “This is the second time someone’s tried to kill you.”
“Mom, my throat hurts. I don’t need you to blow out my eardrums, too,” I said grumpily.
Duncan reappeared and poked his head around the door. “Laurel and Ian, we’ll need to take statements from both of you. You both look like you could use a break, so I’ll come back after we process Ms. Stiles.”
Mom took Ian by the arm. “Come to the house for a nice cup of tea,” she said. “You had a horrible shock.” She looked at me over her shoulder. “You too, Laurel.”
As soon as we got to the house, Mom took Ian into the kitchen. No doubt he needed to help her boil the jug. I went into the living room and leaned back on the sofa. I was shaken.
Ernie materialized in front of me. I jumped and would have squealed, only my throat was burning and raw.
“Preston Kerr crossed over just before you reached the house,” he said.
“He didn’t even say goodbye.” Part of me was sad, but I was happy for Preston.
Ernie shrugged. “He was no fun, anyway. Well, didn’t you have the exciting time! You were nearly buried in your work—again.”
“That’s getting old, Ernie. You’ve used that pun at least three times in the last week.” I pulled a face at him.
At that moment, Mom walked in, followed by Ian. “Laurel, don’t pull a face. The wind might change and your face will be stuck like that forever.”
Mom hadn’t said that to me since I was a child. Memories of my childhood, none of them good, came flooding back. I stood. “Mom, I need to be alone. I’m going back to my office.”
Mom followed me, protesting loudly. “Don’t make me out to be the bad one, like you always do!” she called after me.
I waved over my shoulder without looking around, and kept walking. When I got to the funeral home, I bypassed my office and went straight to the kitchen. I pulled out a nice bottle of Margaret River Chardonnay. Of course, it was inside a large plastic container marked ‘Salad’, which was the only way to stop Mom from discovering it and pouring it down the drain.
I went back to my office, locked the door behind me, and deposited some wine into my coffee mug. I looked around my office and smiled. I had come back home when my father, died with the intention of leaving as soon as I could. Instead, thanks to him leaving the funeral home to me, I was building a life here, and I didn’t think I could be any happier, apart from the times when people tried to kill me, of course. Now the only test was seeing if I could go more than a month without finding myself embroiled in another murder mystery. It would certainly be worth a shot.
When I was alone in my office, I often spoke to my father. I couldn’t be sure he heard me, and he didn’t speak back, but I talked to him just the same. When he had died, he had passed on and I hadn’t seen him since. But I didn’t know why that meant I shouldn’t talk to him anymore.
“Life here is crazy, Dad,” I said. I thought he would have gotten a laugh about that. He had never almost been killed in the decades he had run the funeral home, and I had almost been killed twice in the short time since taking it over. “I thought Mom would be the one to kill me,” I added, and I could just picture him saying, “You and me both.”
“Have one for me, kid,” Ernie said, hovering in front of me.
“You scared me again!” I said. “I nearly spilled it.”
Ernie huffed. “Next time I appear, I’m going to yell ‘boo’!” he said. “Then you’ll really know what it is to get a fright.”
“Please don’t!” I exclaimed. “I’ve had a bad enough time as it is, what with that horrible reporter trying to kill me, and Ian being over at Mom’s. First thing tomorrow I’m going to call a plumber to start on the apartment.” I jabbed my finger toward the ceiling.
Ernie floated over to me. “You’ll have to call that accountant to see if you’ll get a tax break.” He winked.
I waved my hand at him. “Ernie, stop floating. Why are you being so especially annoying?”
Ernie landed. “I’m bored. I’ll have no one to bother now that Preston’s crossed.”
I shook my head. “Honesty, Ernie, you’re acting like a child.”
He was clearly offended. “I was only coming to tell you that your accountant is on the way.” He giggled like a schoolgirl, and then vanished.
I jumped to my feet. Basil? Coming here? I looked at my coffee mug. Okay, I had only had a few mouthfuls of wine. Good. But what about my hair? I must look a fright, given that the muscle-bound Anna had flung me to the floor. A quick finger-combing would have to do.
There was a knock on the office door. My heart leaped, and I hurried across the room. As I reached for the old brass doorknob, I paused. What if Ernie had been joking and it was John Jones?
There was only one way to find out. I flung the door open, and to my relief, Basil was standing there, his face filled with concern.
“Basil,” I said. “Come in.”
I turned to go back to my desk, when Basil caught my arms and spun me around. The same electric jolt coursed through me, but this time Basil didn’t let go.
“I heard what happened,” he said. “Are you all right?”
“Yes.” My voice came out unsteadily. After all, the hot accountant was only inches from me. “I’m more shaken up than anything.”
Basil pulled me to him, but I resisted. “Oh no,” I said firmly. “I’ll be really angry if you kiss me again and then tell me we can never be together.”
Basil dropped my arms at once and his face flushed beet red. “I’m so sorry about that, Laurel. I don’t think that anymore. It’s just that at that time I thought, well, that you might be like your mother.”
I gasped. I had never been so insulted in my entire life.
“I meant, overly religious,” Basil hastened to add. “I had a bad break up, and my fiancée was like your Mom.”
Well, that made sense. That was true torture indeed. No wonder it had left him afraid of women.
“Nowhere near as bad as your mother, obviously,” Basil continued, “if you don’t mind me saying so.”
“I get the picture,” I said with a smile.
Basil pulled me back to him, and this time I didn’t resist. He smelled divine, of cedar and wood smoke and lime. Our lips met, and I leaned into his embrace.
“Boo!” Ernie yelled as he materialized at our side.
Basil and I both jumped and looked at Ernie, and then we looked at each other in shock.
* * * The End * * *
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Next Book in this Series
Make the Ghost of It
* * *
Other books by Morgana Best
Miss Spelled (The Kitchen Witch Book 1)
Amelia Spelled has had a bad week. Her boyfriend dumps her when she inadvertently gives him food poisoning; her workplace, a telecommunications center, fires all their staff as they are outsourcing offshore, and she is evicted due to smoke damage resulting from her failed attempts at baking. Amelia thinks her luck has changed when she inherits her aunt’s store and beautiful Victorian house.
Yet has Amelia jumped out of the frying pan into the fire? The store is a cake store, and her aunt was a
witch. To add to the mix, the house has secrets all of its own.
When a man is murdered in the cake store, will Amelia be able to cook up a way to solve the crime? Or will her spells prove as bad as her baking?
Christmas Spirit (The Middle-aged Ghost Whisper Book 1)
Prudence Wallflower tours the country, making live appearances. She connects people with loved ones who have passed on. However, her reputation as a psychic medium is failing, and even Prudence has begun to doubt herself. She has never seen a ghost, but receives impressions from the dead. This all changes when the ghost of a detective appears to her and demands her help to solve a murder. Prudence finds herself out of her depth, and to make matters worse, she is more attracted to this ghost than any man she has ever met.
About Morgana Best
#1 Best-selling Cozy Mystery author, Morgana Best, lives in a small, historic, former gold mining town in the middle of nowhere in Australia. She is owned by one highly demanding, rescued cat who is half Chinchilla, and two less demanding dogs, a chocolate Labrador and a rescued Dingo, as well as two rescued Dorper sheep, the ram, Herbert, and his wether friend, Bertie.
Morgana is a former college professor who now writes full time. In her spare time, Morgana loves to read paranormal cozy mysteries, repurpose furniture, and renovate her old house. She is vegan.
