Manor of Death--A Short Read

by K. J. Emrick

  Manor of Death

  A Moonlight Bay Psychic Mystery Short Read 4

  K. J. Emrick

  Kathryn De Winter

  First published in Australia by South Coast Publishing, June 2017.

  Copyright Kathryn De Winter and K.J. Emrick (2017)

  * * *

  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.

  All trademarks and brands referred to in this book are for illustrative purposes only, are the property of their respective owners and not affiliated with this publication in any way. Any trademarks are being used without permission, and the publication of the trademark is not authorized by, associated with or sponsored by the trademark owner.

  Contents

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  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  More Info

  About the Authors

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  Chapter 1

  Miranda placed the cafetiere on the mat in the center of the huge kitchen table. The bacon was sizzling on the stove, and the eggs were done the way she liked them, fluffy and light. She would cut up some melon pieces when the bacon was done and voila. Breakfast for two.

  Her home at Ragged Rest in Moonlight Bay was very different from the smart and modern house where she had lived in Melbourne. Ragged Rest was an old, old building. A beautiful old brick and stone building with enough original features to make the editor of a home and lifestyle magazine giddy with delight.

  The kitchen was a wonderful huge square, with an immense, distressed wooden table smack bang in the middle. It was so large that there were four chairs on either side, and one at both ends. So far, the most people Miranda had entertained around the table was three, and they had crowded around one end. It left her wishing that she had another seven friends to fill it.

  Still, she had only been in Moonlight Bay for a few months, and she had done well to form a close connection with Sapphire Moon-Flower and Jean-Paul Devereux so quickly. They really had become great friends to her. Of course, if she was really looking for more friends, maybe she could look in the direction of Jack Travis.

  They’d been out for coffee a few times and dinner once but the dates had all ended the same, with Jack dropping Miranda at her front door before saying goodnight. There had been no kiss so far, in fact barely any physical contact at all.

  But just the other night, they had taken a stroll along the beach, holding hands under the stars. He’d almost kissed her then, but hadn’t quite worked up the nerve. He’d also almost told her this secret that he was keeping, but hadn’t worked up the nerve for that either. Which meant Miranda got to keep hers as well.

  Miranda had to stop herself from smiling when she thought of the dark haired, blue-eyed, handsome cop. Yes, she wanted more from him than just one date a week. Yes, she could tell he was attracted to her statuesque, red-headed beauty. He was a little older than her it turned out, but that wasn’t what was stopping them from getting together in a serious way.

  She wished she could find out what was.

  As a crime novelist, she was skilled in the hidden plot twist, in uncovering the motives of the characters in a story. Too bad it wasn’t that easy in real life. Ah, well. The mysteries of a man’s heart would have to wait for her to figure out some other time. After all, Jean-Paul Devereux was sitting at her table waiting for her to pour him a cup and lend him a soothing ear for a while.

  When the coffee in the cafetiere was brewed dark and aromatic, Miranda put a hand on top of the plunger about to push down but was halted by Butter the Golden Retriever suddenly running up next to her. He made the customary squeaky bark that he always made when he left something at her feet.

  Miranda looked down and, sure enough, there was a rather chewed and soggy-looking tennis ball. Choosing not to pick it up, Miranda gently kicked it out of the kitchen with her bare foot.

  “No messy toys at the table,” she told the dog. “Thank you.”

  Jean-Paul raised a perfectly sculpted dark eyebrow. “I suppose that you are keeping that dog, then?” he asked in his French accent. He was a second-generation French immigrant, tall and proud of his heritage, stately and reserved most of the time. Dark hair slicked back and a thin mustache on the edge of his upper lip added a silent-film-era touch to his angular appearance. Today he was in a casual turtleneck and black slacks, about as dressed down as he got. “I thought for sure you would find him a good home somewhere.” Jean-Paul watched Butter skidding across the wonderful old fashioned tile floor.

  “He has a good home. With me.” Miranda smiled as she looked at the dog. “I can’t imagine parting with him now. I know I’ve only had him a few weeks, but he is such a comfort.”

  “I suppose I understand that. Perhaps I ought to get a pet who will comfort me.”

  Miranda understood what he meant. He was still very much feeling the loss of Alma O’Neal. Sure, he had only dated her for a short while, but he had become very attached to her in a very short space of time. When she had been murdered his feelings for her had intensified. Something about the heart not being able to have what it wants, Miranda supposed.

  She’d been able to keep suspicion off Jean-Paul, and find Alma’s real killer, although it had nearly cost her own life in the process. In the end, seeing Alma’s ghost be able to move on from this world to the next had made it all worth it.

  Sometimes, she wished she wasn’t able to see ghosts, or talk to them, or get drawn into their after-death dramas. Being a psychic/medium was nowhere near as much fun as they made it seem on television.

  Finally, Miranda pushed the plunger down on the coffee pot and poured the dark brew into their cups. Jean-Paul added just a quarter of a teaspoon of sugar to his before stirring it gently and staring into space.

  “Miranda,” he said after a moment, “I just want to say merci for all the extra time you’ve been spending with me lately. You an
d Sapphire have been simply wonderful and I cannot imagine how I would have gotten through this without you.”

  “You’re welcome, Jean-Paul. I know how hard this is for you, believe me. I know what it feels like to lose someone you care about.”

  “Your friend, Kyle, you mean?”

  She nodded. “Yes, my friend Kyle.”

  “You miss him, non?”

  What could she say to that? Looking down the long length of the scrubbed wooden table, she saw her friend Kyle drifting about and smiling at her. He looked just like he did in life, long and lanky, messy hair, even his sandals were the same. The blue aura that surrounded him would tell anyone he was a ghost though. Well. Anyone who could see him. He had stayed with her after they solved his murder, and neither of them truly understood why that was. Miranda rather wondered how she truly had time to miss him at all.

  “Miranda, do you think Alma really cared for me?” Jean-Paul asked, taking Miranda by surprise.

  Kyle had stayed out of the conversation until now. “Be careful what you say, Miranda. You and I know that Alma wasn’t ready for the kind of love Jean-Paul fell into. He’s the kind of guy who obsesses over regrets. Like, a lot.”

  Miranda knew what he meant, and she quickly formulated an answer for Jean-Paul. “Of course she did. How could she not? But you have to stop focusing on what you’ve lost and worrying about what you meant to her. Just enjoy the memory of the good times you had with her.”

  “Thank you, Miranda. What would I do without you and Sapphire?”

  “Well, you’d be going without breakfast, for one thing,” Miranda said, determined to keep the mood cheerful. “But it’s a quick and easy breakfast this morning, my friend. Bacon, eggs and melon slices to be precise. Is that okay with you?”

  “It sounds magnifique. Is Sapphire joining us for breakfast this morning?”

  “No, she’s not. Sapphire told me that she was going to be visiting with a friend who lives on the outskirts of Moonlight Bay for a few days.”

  “Oh, which friend? I believe I know most of everyone she does.”

  “To be honest, I have no idea. You know how vague Sapphire can be. I’m surprised she hasn’t told you about it, you normally get more information than I do.”

  “I think the person who happens to be walking past at the time is the one who gets the most information from her. Sapphire is just so spacey.” Jean-Paul smiled warmly as he said it. He did not believe in all of Sapphire’s “Gypsy nonsense” as he called it, or in Miranda’s being a psychic for that matter, but he truly cared for his friends.

  “Why do people have their coffee black? I mean, look at the pair of you.” Kyle began his own little conversation, like he’d been doing a lot recently, and Miranda wished he wouldn’t. It was just so confusing for her to hear him and the living at the same time. “Me, I always liked mine with loads of cream and at least two sugars.”

  Miranda had been about to tell him as much cream as he had always liked made coffee a desert rather than a drink. Knowing she was not alone, she simply mouthed the word shush.

  “What are you doing?” Jean-Paul asked, seeing her pantomime to Kyle. “Are you pretending to mouth conversations to your ghosts again? I usually find that so amusing, Miranda, but not now, s’il vous plait.”

  “Jean-Paul, I am psychic,” Miranda insisted with a little smile. “I know you don’t believe…”

  “Then why is it you cannot contact Alma’s spirit as I have asked?”

  Oh, that was such a complicated question. What Miranda did was more passive. She could reach out to ghosts, certainly, but they didn’t always answer. She was never sure if it was because the person’s spirit had gone on to another plane of existence and wasn’t available anymore, or if they simply didn’t want to pick up the call. Like when she ignored a telemarketer’s number.

  Still, she opened her mouth to try and explain that to him—again—only to be interrupted by the shrill ringing of the telephone.

  “I’m sorry Jean-Paul, I have to get this,” she told him truthfully. “It’s the house phone, not my cell. It’s going to be business.”

  “Of course,” Jean-Paul said, slumping into his seat, falling back into his misery.

  She felt for him, she truly did, but she also thought it might be good for them not to discuss the topic of Alma’s ghost for the umpteenth time. He really needed to start moving past this. Out in the hallway, she scooped up the receiver off the phone on its little table.

  “Hello?”

  “Good morning.” It was definitely a man’s voice and it had that certain creaky quality of advancing years. “May I speak with Miss Wylder?”

  “This is Miranda Wylder,” Miranda answered.

  “Ah, good. My name is Jonah Keaton. I’m an old investment baron who is looking for a writer of some skill to immortalize me in a written memoir. I’ve read your books. I particularly liked The Mob’s Calling. I understand that got you in a bit of hot water with certain people when you published such an accurate depiction of Mafia practices.”

  His brief introduction was delivered with such a flourish that Miranda almost burst out laughing. Old investment baron? Did he mean that he had been in the business for a while or did he simply mean that he was getting on a bit? Well, she was fascinated either way.

  “Oh, I see,” was all she could say.

  “Quite, and I should very much like to see you today, if at all possible.”

  “Today?” Now she was even more intrigued.

  “Yes, I realize it’s short notice but that is how everything happens in my world, I’m afraid. Rush here, grab that. I’ve always been in stocks and shares and I do like to see things happen in the immediate, if you know what I mean.”

  “Well, that’s interesting and all, Mister Keaton, but it is still rather short notice for me. I have company over.”

  Miranda felt an odd sense of wariness over this out-of-the-blue phone call. After all, although she had done some article writing in her time, Miranda was all about fiction now. Why would anyone ask her to do a biography?

  “I was hoping I could convince you to see me straight away,” Jonah said, his breath wheezing on an exhale. “After all, it was Miss Sapphire Moon-Flower who told me about you. I believe the two of you are friends. She’s staying with me here at the house for a few days. It seemed a good time to invite you over and discuss the matter.

  “Oh, I see.” Actually, Miranda didn’t see at all. Why would Sapphire be staying with this man that Miranda had never heard of? Well, she certainly didn’t know all of Sapphire’s friends. This might be a good chance to expand the circle of people she knew.

  As Miranda hesitated Jonah pressed her further. “Of course, we can discuss the monetary details when I see you, but suffice it to say that the upfront fee shall be the sum of ten thousand dollars.”

  Hard to turn that down, Miranda thought. Her last novel was finished, but it would be a couple of months before it was put out in print and she wouldn’t see any royalties from it until then. A check of that amount would tide her over very nicely.

  “All right, Mister Keaton,” she finally relented. “I’ll be glad to come visit with you and discuss the project. Give me the address, please. I won’t be over until this afternoon. Like I said, I’ve got company.”

  Miranda hastily jotted down his directions before saying goodbye.

  By the time Miranda returned to the kitchen Jean-Paul was in the process of turning the bacon over on the grill. She gave him a quick rundown of the curious conversation with Jonah Keaton.

  “What do you think, Jean-Paul? Have you heard of this Jonah Keaton?”

  “The name rings a bell. I think he’s something of a Rockstar in the stocks and shares world, if such a thing exists.” He gave a little laugh. “When I say Rockstar, I mean ageing Rockstar.”

  “So, you think I shouldn’t go?”

  “Not at all, I think you should go. It sounds like a wonderful opportunity.”

  “It sounds suspicious, mo
re like.” Kyle added and Miranda almost laughed to see him screwing his face up cynically.

  “I must admit I am a little suspicious. It just seems so out of the blue and so very odd. But still, Sapphire is there at this estate, so I’ll go and listen to this offer of his. After all, nothing is decided until it’s on paper, is it?”

  Looking off through the window at the outside world, Jean-Paul nodded. There was a lonely light in his eyes. “You are right, my friend. Nothing is over until it is. Then, it is quite final, is it not?”

  He was talking about Alma, Miranda realized. The love he might have had, but lost. Everything that ends is final…

  Down at the other end of the table, Kyle scoffed. “Then how come I’m still here?”

  Chapter 2

  Miranda took the coast road to the outskirts of Moonlight Bay where Jonah Keaton lived. It was a beautiful day and the sky was so blue it filled her with a sense of hope and purpose. This book idea could be a good thing for her. It would broaden her exposure to a whole new world of readers.

  As she drove along Miranda could hear the seagulls cawing and squealing. She heard the waves crashing against the cliff walls below. She loved this part of Australia more than any other. Back when she used to visit her uncle here, she had always dreamed of one day living in Moonlight Bay. For now, at least, she was getting her wish.

  Kyle’s hair didn’t flow in the breeze like Miranda’s did. He was completely unaffected by the movement of the car. She had tried to get him to explain how he was able to sit in a moving vehicle like this but he didn’t seem to know either. The best he could do was shrug and say, “go figure.”

  Now he leaned forward, with his elbows on the seatbacks, and Miranda imagined that she could smell the sweet cologne he always used to wear. “Tell me again, will you my dear, what you got from your hour and a half of googling Mister Jonah Keaton before we left?”