Check out this sneak peak of Murder in Mystic Hills.

There were days where I wondered if my life was a reality
television show for some higher power.
My nosy neighbor smiled at me and held out my mail,
which she’d pilfered from my mailbox, sorted by size, and
decorated with stickers featuring bible verses. “I thought these
might help you.” Gladys passed me the stack of bills and a few
random ads.
“Why do you have my mail?” seemed the politest way to
phrase my question. Normal neighbors didn’t steal other
people’s mail and use it for judgmental craft projects.
“It’s my gift to my fellow tenants,” Gladys said. “It warms
my heart to know I’ve helped those who’ve gone astray.”
I was offended on several fronts. First because she was
judging me, and second because I hadn’t had a chance to go
astray in quite some time. “My life isn’t that exciting, so I’m
going to need a clue. What are you talking about?”
“I’ve seen the food deliveries to your apartment late at
night. I know what that means.”

I laughed. “It means I’ve been binge-watching or binge-
reading something and I didn’t feel like cooking dinner.” If I’d

been getting lucky every time the Dine & Dash guy knocked

on my door, I’d be far less irritated with this odd woman. Wait
a minute. Maybe I should date someone who worked for Dine
& Dash. Not a bad idea. Back to the problem at hand. I smiled
at the judgmental busybody. “I’m an adult and I can order
pizza whenever I want.” Even if my jeans said otherwise. “I’d
appreciate it if you didn’t touch my mail in the future.”
She patted me on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, dear. It’s no
trouble. Have a nice night.” With those parting words she
turned and walked away.
Once I was in my apartment, I dropped the mail on the
kitchen table and wondered what there was to eat. I knew the
answer, but I opened the refrigerator and stared inside like
there might be some forgotten treasure. Nope. Nothing excit‐
ing. I had the necessities: coffee creamer, milk, apples, string
cheese, and wine. Honestly, this was the only time I regretted
breaking things off with Greg. He might have been a cheating
jerk, but he’d kept the refrigerator fully stocked.
So…time to call Dine & Dash again? Maybe I should act
like an adult and order groceries instead. I poured myself a
glass of white wine and grabbed a piece of cheese. Fifteen
minutes later, I’d ordered a cart full of groceries which
wouldn’t arrive until tomorrow evening. There. I’d behaved
like a responsible grown-up so I could order pizza with a clear
conscience.
While I waited for my double pepperoni to arrive, I sorted
through the mail. I didn’t recognize the law firm who’d sent
me a legal sized envelope. Should I be concerned? Maybe they
were trying to drum up business. I pried the flap open and
pulled out a stack of papers. There was a handwritten letter
on top.

DEAR BELINDA,
I hope this finds you well. If you’re reading this, I’m dead. Sorry…

couldn’t resist the drama. I know we haven’t spoken in a few years, but I
always felt we were kindred spirits.
Now that I’ve passed on, I need someone to take my place at the tea
house. If you’re skeptical, know that if you accept this arrangement,
you’ll be taking over my business and my home in Mystic Hills. Both are
paid off. They’d be yours free and clear if you agreed never to sell either
property. You can rent them out, but Tea & Spirits and my home must
remain in the Harbinger name. I hope you’ll accept this gift and carry on
the family tradition.
Love,
Aunt Teresa Harbinger

Okay…there were a few problems with this situation. My
name was Linda James, not Belinda Harbinger. I didn’t have
an Aunt Teresa and I’d never been to Mystic Hills. Had the
nosy neighbor given me someone else’s mail?
I checked the name on the envelope. Nope. It was
addressed to me. Weird.
I grabbed my cell and dialed mom.
“Hello, dear. Please tell me you’re not eating pizza for
dinner again.”
I laughed. “Hi, Mom. I’m not eating pizza yet, but it
should be here soon.”
“I made lasagna for dinner. Come join us.”
“Maybe I’ll come over tomorrow for the second round.”
Even though we were a family of three, she always cooked
enough to serve a dozen people.
“That would be lovely. What’s up?”
“Something odd happened. I received a letter from
someone who passed away. Her name was Teresa Harbinger.
She claims we’re related.”
“That’s impossible,” my mom said.
“I figured it was a mistake. Too bad, she offered to leave
me her business and her house. Could’ve been a sweet deal.”
“No. I spoke to Teresa last month.” Her voice shook. “She

can’t be dead.” It sounded like her phone clattered onto the
counter.
“Mom?”
I heard her crying and then my dad’s voice came through
the phone. “Linda, are you hurt? What’s wrong?”
“It’s not me, Dad. Teresa Harbinger died.”
“What? How?”
“I don’t know. I received a letter from her lawyers.”
“There’s so much you don’t know. Hold on, I need to take
care of your mother.”
Did I really have an Aunt Teresa? If my mom’s crying was
any indication, I did. Mom had never mentioned a sister in
the twenty-six years I’d been alive. Maybe they’d had some
kind of falling out and recently reconnected?
While I waited for someone to come back on the line, I
moved the letter to the side. Underneath there was a legal
contract that was bunched up in the middle. I tried to flatten it
out and felt something between the layers of paper. I flipped
through the pages until I came to a crystal bracelet in a clear
envelope.
“Linda, I’ve put you on speaker,” my dad’s voice came
through the phone. “What does the letter say?”
I read it out loud and told them about the attached
contract. “Please tell me what’s going on.”
“Not over the phone. Why don’t you join us for dinner so
we can talk.”
My doorbell rang. “Hold on. My pizza is here.”
I set the phone down and walked over to open the door.
When my hand touched the doorknob, it sounded like a cat
meowing behind me. I turned around to check. Yep. A huge
black and gray tabby, was sitting on my end table.
“I don’t own a cat,” I said to the universe in general.
The universe did not respond.
The cat hopped down to wind around my ankles and then

looked up at me and said, “You shouldn’t leave him waiting in
the hall. He’s crabby on a good day.”
What the heck? “I definitely don’t own a talking cat.”
The universe continued to ignore me.
The doorbell rang again. “Do you plan on letting me in?”
a man asked.
“Your pizza is here,” a different male voice said.
“Who else is out there?” I asked.
“Some dude dressed for cosplay. Not to be rude, but I have
other deliveries.”
I opened the door and stared at the two men who were
polar opposites. The pizza guy was blond, tan, and probably
working his way through college. The other guy wore some
sort of old-fashioned suit. It emphasized his broad shoulders,
but the inky black fabric made his skin look even paler than it
was, and his eyes were so dark, they appeared black. He
looked like he was auditioning to play a vampire.
I took the pizza from guy number one and handed him his
tip. “Thank you.”
He glanced at the other guy. “You sure it’s okay to leave
you alone with Vlad?”
I studied my strange visitor. He was intimidating but not
threatening, if that made sense. “You’re not here to kill me or
anything, right?”
“I’m here to discuss the tearoom.” He enunciated each
word like he was biting at the air.
“We’re good,” I told pizza guy. “Thanks for asking.”
He nodded and sprinted down the hall.
“May I come in?”
“Get in here before anyone else sees you,” the cat said
from behind me.
“You heard him, right?” I asked Vlad.
“I’ve listened to his incessant chatter for years.”
“Rude,” the cat pronounced from behind me.

“Who are you?” Did I really want to let this guy into my
house?
“I’m Victor. I worked with your aunt.”
The smell of Italian spices made my mouth water. I
needed food to figure this out. “Come in.”
I set the pizza down and spotted my cell where I’d left it.
“Crap.” I reached for the phone. “Mom, Dad?”
“We’re in the car, on our way,” my mom said. “Don’t sign
anything until we get there.” The call ended.
I flipped open the lid of the pizza box and grabbed a slice,
before turning it toward my two strange guests. “Want some?”
“You show an alarming lack of self-preservation,” the cat
said.
“You worry too much,” Victor said to the cat. He took a
step toward the pizza and then frowned. “May I have a plate
and perhaps some utensils?”
I took a giant bite of my pizza as I walked over to the
cabinet to retrieve three plates and some utensils. I changed
my mind and added two more of each for my parents and
then I sat at the table and observed my strange guests. After I
inhaled the first slice of pizza, I hoped this situation would
make more sense. As I watched, Victor cut half of his pizza
into dime sized bites and then set the plate on the floor.
“Thank you,” the cat said.
“Are you friends?” I asked.
“No,” they said in unison.
“We’re house-mates,” the cat explained.
“I should ask, but I won’t.” My brain had enough new
information to roll around. I didn’t need to hear about their
relationship.
After a second piece of pizza, I cleared my throat. “Can
you shed some light on this whole situation, like why you’re
here?”
“I could,” Victor said, “but if you put on the bracelet,
you’ll understand everything.”

“Don’t do it,” the cat said. “Wait for your parents.”
Curious, I tilted the envelope so the bracelet slid out onto
the table and then I picked it up. The blue and white crystals
varied in shape and size and the hair on my arm stood up as
something like static electricity shot up my arm. “What
happens if I put it on?”
“Can’t tell you,” Victor said.
“He’s baiting you,” the cat said. “Ignore him.”
Light reflected off the crystals casting rainbows on the
ceiling. “It’s beautiful.” The static electricity feeling increased
to a hum. It warmed in my hand. I wanted, no needed, to put
the bracelet on. The crystals pulsed with light drawing me in
like a beacon.
A knock sounded on the door, I dropped the bracelet,
hopped up, and ran to answer it. My parents stood in the
doorway looking frazzled. I waved them inside.
“Victor?” My dad stopped short and froze for a second,
before continuing into the room. “It’s been a long time.”
“It has,” Victor responded.
No love lost there. “Pizza?” I pointed at the box hoping to
break the tension.
“I left the lasagna in the car,” my mom said. “We wanted
to make sure you were okay before we brought it in.”
“I’m extremely confused,” I said. “Other than that, I’m
fine.”
“We’ll explain everything,” my dad said as he went back
out to grab the lasagna.
“Tell me about the bracelet.” I walked back to my kitchen
table and picked up my new sparkly friend.
“Drop it,” my mom commanded in the same tone she
used to tell the cats to get off the kitchen counter.
I clutched the bracelet tighter. I was after all, an adult.
“Excuse me?”
My mom’s mouth fell open before she said, “Sorry. Please
wait to put the bracelet on until we’ve talked.”

I poured a glass for my mom and grabbed a beer for my
dad. “Victor? Cat? Any beverages?”
“I’ll take a beer,” Victor said.
“Do you have any flavored creamer?” the cat asked
hopefully.
“You mean like French vanilla coffee creamer?”
“Yes. In a bowl if you don’t mind.”
“Wouldn’t you rather have milk?”
“I’m lactose intolerant,” the cat said.
“Creamer it is.” After passing out drinks in various forms,
I said, “Okay, go.”
“First,” my mom said, “I need to know how Teresa died.”
Victor scowled. “It was labeled an accident. But Teresa
did not fall and break her neck in her own house. Someone or
something pushed her. No one will help us. They are all fright‐
ened. Afraid something might happen to them. We need
Belinda to come home with us so she can speak to Teresa and
find out what happened.”
Wait. What? “If Teresa is dead, how am I supposed to talk
to her?”
“That’s your gift,” Victor said. “You see spirits and speak
to the dead.”
“Nope.” I pushed my chair back from the table. “I’m a
teacher. My gift is teaching preschoolers that they have to
share and take turns. I do not talk to dead people.”
“It’s in our blood,” my mom said. “Believe me there are
worse gifts.”
“Put on the bracelet,” Victor said. “You’ll understand your
duty.”
I pulled the bracelet out of my pocket. “Mom?”
“It might help with the transition. Please remember, we
did what we did out of love and concern for you. If we let you
remember your time in Mystic Hills, your gift would have
blossomed. If you weren’t prepared…well it’s hard to explain
to a six-year-old why ghosts are talking to her.”

I’d been about to slide my hand through the bracelet but
stopped. “Wait. Ghosts can just talk to me?” I thought I’d
need to hold a seance or say a spell.
“Think of yourself as a ghost magnet,” the cat said.
“I’d rather not,” I shot back. “What do the ghosts want?”
“Some have unfinished business, problems they need to
solve before they can move on,” Victor explained. “The
recently dead don’t always realize what’s happened. It’s your
job to help them accept their new reality.”
“If what Teresa told me is true, it can be overwhelming at
first.” Mom touched my arm. “You can learn to control it, but
you’ll have to do that in Mystic Hills.”
This house and business no longer seemed like such a
good deal. Seeing dead people hoping to settle a score didn’t
sound fun. “Can I just ignore all of this? Send Victor and the
cat back to Mystic Hills with the bracelet?”
“You could,” my mom said.
“But you shouldn’t,” Victor said. “Teresa has been
knocking paintings off the walls trying to get our attention. No
one will help her. The longer she’s distressed the more
vengeful and unstable she’ll become. She won’t be able to
cross over if you don’t help. She’ll be stuck here, and all her
humanity will drain away. She’ll become a leech.”
“She’ll become a blood sucking bug?” That didn’t make
sense.
“No.” Mom wiped at tears sliding down her cheeks. “A
leech sucks the life force from its victims trying to gain power.
The stronger it becomes the more dangerous it is. The Mystic
Hills elders would hunt her down and damn her to hell for
eternity.”

“Are you serious? Either I help Teresa or she’s damned to hell?
How is that fair to either of us?”
“It’s not,” my dad said. “I never wanted this for you.”
“This was not on the list of how I wanted to spend my first
week of summer vacation. I thought I’d sleep in. Go to the
movies. But no. I’m going to put on a magical memory
bracelet and maybe see ghosts and then try to save someone
from damnation?”
“You won’t be working alone,” Victor said. “It’s my job to
help the deceased cross over.”
Wait a minute. “Why can’t you talk to Teresa?”
“I can’t. Not on my own. My magic is symbiotic. Without
you, or someone like you with your gift, my power is useless.
Before, my powers complimented Teresa’s and now they will
compliment yours allowing me to see and talk to ghosts so can
I ferry them across the river to the light.”
“You what? No. Forget it. Doesn’t matter. You do you. I’m
going to put the bracelet on after I finish this.” I picked up my
wine glass and downed the last of it. Then I reached across
the table and stole my mom’s wine downing the rest of her
glass. I still wasn’t ready. “I’m going to the restroom first.”

I all but sprinted ten paces down the hall to the bathroom.
Once I was inside, I brushed my teeth just to stall for time and
then I studied my reflection. I had the same chestnut brown
hair, pale skin, and light brown eyes I’d had this morning. I
didn’t look like someone who’d forgotten about a secret life in
a magical town. What were the odds this was some type of
mass hallucination brought on by a gas leak or some other
phenomenon? Maybe I’d put on the bracelet, and nothing
would happen. There we go. That was my coping strategy. I’d
put on the bracelet, and nothing would happen. Then I’d take
a nap and wake up and everything would be back to normal.
Clutching denial to my chest like a warm blanket, I
headed back out into the kitchen and refilled mom’s wine glass
before taking my seat.
“Okay. Here we go.” I picked up the bracelet, slid it over
my wrist and was hit by a wall of sound and light. It felt like I
was being submerged by a tidal wave of emotion. A woman
smiled at me with so much love, it hurt. She looked like my
mom. Same chestnut hair and round cheeks. Her image was
replaced by laughter and balloons and cake.
Then I was riding a new bike with a big pink basket on the
front. Next there was a picnic and a swing set and a teddy
bear and a paint set and cookies and cupcakes and all the
images came at me out of sequence but there was one
commonality. The love. Aunt Teresa had loved me like the
child she never had. She loved me like her own baby, her own
daughter.
Suddenly I saw myself through her eyes at my graduation
and the party in my back yard with my friends, and when I
was trying on dresses for Christmas, and when I graduated
from college, and those memories weren’t mine. Those were
Teresa’s. There was so much love and pride and sadness and
longing it made my chest ache. How could I have forgotten
her?
When the images stopped coming, I heard myself

sobbing…Hot tears streaked down my face…someone had
their arm around my shoulders, but it wasn’t my mom or my
dad…it was Victor.
“Sorry,” I blurted out.
“It’s okay. Your memories hold much emotion.” He
squeezed my shoulder before removing his arm. “Can you
stand?”
And that’s when I realized I was on the floor.
“I think so.” I scooted away from him. Feeling a little
unsteady, I reached for the table to pull myself up and then I
saw them. White wispy forms billowed through the room like
curtains on a breezy day. I stayed crouched on the floor.
“What are those?”
Victor stood and pulled me to my feet. He held my hand
as he glanced around the room. “They are free floating spirits.
Nothing to worry about. They are at peace.”
“How do you know?”
He smiled. “When you see a ghost with unfinished busi‐
ness, you’ll recognize the difference.”
Not exactly something to look forward to.
“We should pack your bags and head back to Mystic Hills
tonight,” Victor said.
“You don’t have to go.” My mom sounded like she was on
the verge of more tears.
“Doesn’t she?” my dad asked.
Mom turned to him with a look of betrayal on her face.
He placed his hand on her shoulder. “You knew this day
would come.”
“Not now,” she said. “Not yet. My sister should have lived
another forty years.”
“And she would have if someone hadn’t murdered her,”
Victor chimed in. “If you ever loved your sister, then Belinda
needs to take her place in Mystic Hills so she can help solve
Teresa’s death.”
The sound of sirens off in the distance added to the

ominous feeling of the moment. A cold breeze flowed through
the apartment, even though all my windows were closed.
Suddenly the guy who’d delivered my pizza was standing next
to the kitchen table. His tan had faded and his outline was
hazy. He clutched his right arm to his chest like it was injured
and there was a wild look in his eyes.
“What’s going on?” he turned in a circle. “Why am I here?”
He stopped and tilted his head at me. “I delivered your pizza.”
He moved toward me. “I think…I think I was in an accident.”
Holy Crap. Was he dead? I stumbled back a step. He
floated closer, which kind of proved the whole dead theory
since normal people didn’t float. He tilted his head and looked
at me like I could help him. Like it was my job to help. I took
a calming breath. He needed my help.
What the heck should I say? I cleared my throat. “What’s
the last thing you remember?”
“I was driving. Some jerk veered into my lane. I thought
he was going to hit me.”
“I think he did hit you,” I said.
Victor’s skin became iridescent. He clasped my right hand
and held his left hand out to the young man who’d been alive
in my apartment less than an hour ago. “The string of your
life has been cut short. I’m sorry, but it’s time to move on.”
Pizza guy shook his head. “No. No way man. My girl is
coming to stay with me this weekend. I bought a ring. I’m
gonna propose.”
My eyes burned. This was so unfair.
Light filled my apartment as Victor glowed a bright bluish
silver. “You’ll see her again. It’s time to go.”
The young man glanced at me. “Do I have to?”
I nodded and swallowed over the lump in my throat. If I
tried to speak, I’d cry and that wouldn’t help the situation.
The young man took Victor’s hand, and the light reached
out to surround him. When the light faded, he was gone.

“Who was it?” my dad asked.
“The pizza guy.” Funny, I didn’t even know his name.

“Car accident,” Victor said, back to his normal, non-
glowy self.

“Well that sucked,” I volunteered since no one else was
commenting.
“It’s another phase of life,” Victor said.
“Where did you send him?”
“I can’t tell you,” he said. “Rest assured he’s at peace.
Teresa is not.”
Dang it. “I’ll pack a bag.”

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