by Dawn Eastman
Praise for the Family Fortune Mysteries
“A tightly plotted, character-driven triumph of a mystery . . . This novel sparkles with charmingly peculiar characters and a fascinating heroine . . . Eastman is fabulous!”
—Jenn McKinlay, New York Times bestselling author of the Library Lover’s Mysteries, the Cupcake Bakery Mysteries, and the Hat Shop Mysteries
“A kooky small town filled with eccentric characters, psychics, and murder make Eastman’s Family Fortune Mystery series a stellar launch . . . It’s not hard to predict a brilliant future for this quirky new series!”
—Kari Lee Townsend, national bestselling author of the Fortune Teller Mysteries and the Mind Reader Mysteries
“[An] entertaining read . . . The cast of characters is a lovable bunch of kooky psychics.”
—RT Book Reviews
“Dawn Eastman is a phenomenal writer who can draw her readers in and leave them in suspense until the very end.”
—Girl Lost in a Book
“Charming . . . I recommend this delightful cozy to fans of the genre and those who appreciate a touch of paranormal with their mystery.”
—Open Book Society
“An entertaining cozy mystery with just the right [amount] of humor, paranormal woo-woo, and romance to shake things up. Enjoyable!”
—Book of Secrets
“A kooky read from start to finish . . . [A] charming whodunit.”
—Debbie’s Book Bag
Berkley Prime Crime titles by Dawn Eastman
PALL IN THE FAMILY
BE CAREFUL WHAT YOU WITCH FOR
A FRIGHT TO THE DEATH
AN UNHAPPY MEDIUM
An imprint of Penguin Random House LLC
375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014
AN UNHAPPY MEDIUM
A Berkley Prime Crime Book / published by arrangement with the author
Copyright © 2016 by Dawn Eastman.
Penguin supports copyright. Copyright fuels creativity, encourages diverse voices, promotes free speech, and creates a vibrant culture. Thank you for buying an authorized edition of this book and for complying with copyright laws by not reproducing, scanning, or distributing any part of it in any form without permission. You are supporting writers and allowing Penguin to continue to publish books for every reader.
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eBook ISBN: 9780698406810
PUBLISHING HISTORY
Berkley Prime Crime mass-market edition / April 2016
Cover illustration by Daniel Craig.
Cover design by Judith Lagerman.
Design element: iStockphoto/Thinkstock.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
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To my most avid readers, Ann and Bob Eastman.
Acknowledgments
Thank you to all the readers who have embraced the Fortune family. Clyde and the gang would still be rattling around in my head if not for your enthusiasm and support.
Thank you to my editor, Katherine Pelz, and the entire Berkley team. It takes a village to bring Crystal Haven to readers.
Thanks go to my agent, Sharon Bowers, for supporting the series from the beginning.
I will always be grateful for my writing group, Wendy Delsol, Kim Stuart, Kali Van Baale, and Carol Spaulding for their investment and dedication to these characters.
And, as always, thanks to my family—Steve, Jake, and Ellie—who have grown accustomed to discussing murder and mayhem anytime, anywhere.
Contents
Praise for the Family Fortune Mysteries
Berkley Prime Crime titles by Dawn Eastman
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Acknowledgments
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
1
My chest burned, my legs ached, and I felt a cramp in the vicinity of my liver. The raspy breaths behind me spurred me forward. My own breathing came in harsh gasps but I knew I couldn’t stop. I wouldn’t let him catch me.
“Clyde, stop.”
I continued running, but felt my pace slip. I couldn’t keep this up, but I refused to let him win. He was right behind me.
“You’re going to hurt yourself,” he said.
I slowed and turned toward my nephew, Seth, who was jogging in place and grinning broadly. Tuffy, Seth’s shih tzu, panted heavily while looking adoringly up at his boy. Baxter, my bullmastiff running partner, sighed and leaned against my leg. I received no adoring looks.
I felt my eyes narrow and I would have turned and sprinted on if it weren’t for the wave of nausea that overtook me at the thought of running any farther. It was Seth’s fault I stood here in the first place.
Running. I hated it. I had done it out of necessity during police training and then had continued in a haphazard way just to stay fit enough to chase criminals, who, fortunately, were often overweight and out of shape. But I hadn’t chased a criminal in a year and I hadn’t missed it. I’d also slacked off on the cardio, and mooched rich, carb-heavy dinners at my mom’s house too often, much to my current dismay.
Seth and my friend Alex had decided to sponsor a Zombie Apocalypse Fun Run and give the proceeds to the Ottawa County animal rescue league. I wasn’t having fun yet. But, it was a worthy cause and the only reason I was back out on the pavement running in circles around Crystal Haven. The Fun Run was scheduled for Friday. Two days away. Between studying for my private investigator’s license, fending off my aunt’s business proposals, and utilizing my world-class avoidance skills, I had put off training. My mistake had been to run with Seth. His fourteen years to my thirty was an advantage I had initially ignored. My innate competitiveness had forced me to try to outrun him.
“Okay, you go on ahead.” I continued to gulp air and waved him forward. “I’ll just head back to the house with Tuffy—he looks like he could use a drink.”
Seth barely hid his smile, but I was too relieved to call him on it. We traded leashes and he and Baxter loped off at an easy pace while I hobbled home with Tuffy. It was unusual for the shih tzu and I to be paired up. Tuffy was Seth’s dog and Baxter was mine, but in this case the little g
uy was the better partner for me. He glanced up at me with a scowl that seemed to say, “Why did I have to get involved in this?”
“Don’t look at me, he’s your boy,” I said.
Tuffy sniffed loudly and looked away.
I said, “Let’s go get a treat.” He perked up enough to trot back home, his tail curled jauntily over his back. It was a pleasant walk now that winter had finally moved on and spring buds showed bright green. My neighborhood was a tree-lined mix of Victorians, Craftsmans, bungalows, and log cabins. All was quiet on this Wednesday morning, but by the weekend it would be alive with kids, dogs, bikers, and gardeners.
We turned the corner and I saw my mom’s orange smart car parked in the street outside my house. I slowed my pace. Mom dropping by unexpectedly and waiting for me did not bode well. Tuffy also sensed we had a visitor, and pulled on the leash to hurry me along.
Mom and Aunt Vi sat on my porch in the wicker chairs I had just brought out of winter storage. Aunt Vi stopping by usually meant she had another job for me to do for “our” new business. The psychic finding business was Vi’s idea. It consisted of my aunt collecting clients and promising I would solve their problems. Vi stood as we approached.
Her usual outfit of long black skirt, jewel-toned top, and cardigans had morphed to a multicolored skirt and top in bright spring colors with the change of season. She had also lost a couple of layers of cardigan in deference to the warmer temperatures. Her long gray hair was braided to the side and hung over her right shoulder.
“I knew it!” she said. “I knew you should be on a zombie team instead of a running team. You need to sit down.”
Vi took Tuffy’s leash from me.
I grimaced at her, but didn’t argue.
The Fun Run was arranged such that the runners were in teams to protect each other from the zombies that would be scattered in groups throughout the course. Vi had gleefully volunteered to be a zombie leader and had been studying makeup techniques on the Internet for weeks. I thought again that I should have been training for weeks, or months, and now I regretted not listening to Vi.
“Are you sure you feel okay?” Mom said. She regarded me carefully as I sat on the top porch step.
“She looks overheated,” Vi said.
“Hmm,” Mom said. She tilted her head at me and tsked. “She’s going to have a rough time this weekend.”
“Sitting right here, folks,” I said.
They exchanged one of their looks and Mom changed tactics.
“We have some great news! Let’s go inside,” Mom said. She stood and took Tuffy’s leash from Vi. Mom was stunning in a completely different way from her sister. Her silver hair was pulled back into a neat chignon, her makeup was flawless, and she wore chinos, a silk blouse, and short blazer. “You look like you need some water,” she said to the dog.
We trooped into my living room and Mom released Tuffy from his leash. He dashed toward the kitchen and I heard him slurping water from his bowl and probably onto the floor.
“What’s the good news?” I asked, secretly hoping that the run had been canceled.
“Grace, Paul, and Sophie are coming to visit!” Mom said. She clasped her hands under her chin and grinned, but it didn’t fool me. Grace, my sister, and her husband, Paul, had not been to Crystal Haven in fifteen years. They lived in New York City and both worked for an investment firm there. Recently, Seth had come to live with me due to a desire to get out of the city and his vague sense that his parents were in some sort of trouble.
They had never shown the slightest interest in coming to Crystal Haven, opting to send Seth and his sister, Sophie, for unaccompanied summer visits. It was one of those things we never talked about in my family. I had been devastated when my big sister left, and although my parents were pleasant when they visited New York, the warmth that I remembered wasn’t there. We all loved the kids and their visits were the highlight of every summer for my parents. But the only time we had all been together was on a few holidays in New York. I quickly sat on the couch and tried to stop my mind from formulating a list of the reasons Grace might want to come to Michigan. None of them were good. I uncharitably wondered what kind of trouble she was trying to stir up. However, she probably wanted to see Seth. He had been talking up this Fun Run for months. I convinced myself she was just being a supportive parent.
I tried to ignore the tightening in my gut that told me something else was going on.
“You can’t tell Seth,” Vi said. “They want to surprise him.”
“The cards told me that the zombie run would be full of excitement,” Mom said. “But I had no idea what that meant until they called from the airport to say they were on their way.”
Mom is a tarot card reader by profession and tends to consult the cards for everything from what to have for dinner to whether there is danger lurking in the murky future. I used to bristle at this obsession with tarot cards and guarding against impending dangers, but last fall I learned that Mom had been given a disturbing prediction that she would attend the funeral for one of her children. I tended to cut her some slack now, knowing that she absolutely believed she would outlive either my sister or me.
“We aren’t telling your father, either,” Vi said. “He can’t keep a secret to save his life.” She waved her hand dismissively.
I thought this was unfair, but sometimes it was better to ignore Vi rather than argue.
“Okay,” I said. I glanced at Tuffy and narrowed my eyes at him. I wasn’t sure how much the little dog understood. Vi claims to be a pet psychic, and if her bank account is anything to go by, a lot of people believe her. I’m on the fence, myself. However, Seth really can communicate with animals and if Tuffy revealed this secret, I was surely the one they would blame. Seth wasn’t ready to reveal his talent to the rest of the family and I was the only one who knew about his Dr. Doolittle tendencies.
It might seem that these are unusual career choices, but in Crystal Haven, those with psychic talent vastly outnumber those without. We offer everything from tarot to séances, crystals to palm reading, as well as some herbal medicines, potions, and spell kits. The town could have survived as a tourist destination on location alone, but the psychic offerings meant we had a bit of an edge, for the right person, over other small towns along the coast of Lake Michigan. I had run from Crystal Haven and my own psychic talent, but after almost a year back in my hometown, I was glad I had returned.
“When are they arriving?” I asked.
“Later this afternoon,” Mom said. “She thought they would be here in time for dinner. I know it’s more of a winter dish, but I’m going to make pot roast. It was always her favorite growing up.”
Mom glanced at her watch and tugged on Vi’s sleeve.
“We should go,” Mom said. “I have to get to the store or we won’t eat until nine o’clock tonight.”
“You and Seth need to come for dinner,” Vi said. “But don’t tell him anything. Bring Mac.” She paused, and tilted her head. “You can probably tell him if you want. He seems pretty good at secrets.”
Vi was still irked with Mac, my boyfriend, for not including her in a recent murder investigation. He’s a homicide detective for Ottawa County and had moved back to the area around the same time I had. Mom called it fate, Vi called it destiny, I called it amazing.
After several murders over the past year that frequently had us working at cross purposes, I was looking forward to a leisurely summer spending time with Mac. I hoped that would happen after the Zombie Apocalypse Fun Run. This was also Founder’s Day weekend and the official kickoff of the summer tourist season. Mac and I planned to skip the reenactment, wander through the food tents, and enjoy the bonfire.
I waved my mom and Vi out the door and took a deep breath. I still had that clenched feeling deep inside. I leaned against the door and closed my eyes. I had been working with an old friend of my grandmother’s, Ne
ila Whittle, to hone my own psychic skills. I am able to find lost objects, can often sense good (or bad) intentions, have dreams of doom, and gut feelings that never seem specific enough to actually help. I was tired of ignoring the flashes of insight I received unbidden. She was helping me to learn how to interpret and even encourage the information.
This time, however, I wasn’t able to calm the swirling thoughts and vague unease. I pushed off from the door and headed up the stairs for a quick shower.
I would go see Neila before my sister’s plane touched down in Michigan.
2
I had passed Seth on my way out the door, telling him the dinner plan and casting what I hoped was a threatening glance at Tuffy.
My ancient Jeep groaned a bit as I turned onto a steep driveway that appeared to lead straight into the woods. Bumping upward through oak and maple trees budding with leaves, I rolled down the window to inhale the scent of pine and fresh air. We had survived a brutal winter with more than the usual amount of snow and cold. I had promised myself I would enjoy the good weather once it arrived.
Neila’s house looked the same as ever. Tucked among the trees and covered in vines such that it appeared to have grown right out of the woods, it looked deserted and possibly haunted. It was an impression that the reclusive owner did not try to alter. Neila was just as happy to be left alone in her small clearing in the pines. A few changes had been made since the first time I had driven up here last fall. Motion-activated floodlights now glowered from the corners of the house, the sagging stoop had been repaired, and the shutters currently hung straight. Neila had grown too old to deal with teenage thrill seekers, and a friend had helped her with repairs.
Keeping secrets ran in my family, and my mother didn’t know I had been visiting Neila regularly. Neila had an unusual psychic talent. She knew when a parent was going to lose a child. I shivered every time I thought of it. She was the source of my mother’s free-floating fear. I had kept my visits and my knowledge about the prediction from my mother, at least so far.
