Spotlight & Giveaway: Possessed by Murder by JP Bird

Today, HJ is pleased to share with you JP Bird’s new release: Possessed by Murder

A cold case, hot coffee, and an impromptu séance brew the smalltown amateur sleuth’s second murder case…

When her best friend convinces Amelia Wethers to participate in a séance, the newly minted psychic, barista and artist is forced to add possessed to her repertoire. Now, instead of seeing a ghost pleading with her to find her murdered body, Ami is sharing her body with the very hungry ghost of Henrietta Bathers, a Hillside resident who mysteriously disappeared over eighty years ago.

While Henrietta seems determined to eat her way through town and embrace all the human pleasures and discoveries she missed, Ami and her friends, and family, including her new detective boyfriend, investigate Henrietta’s life and last steps. They hope that by finding justice for Henrietta and reuniting her earthbound spirit with her family, the possession will end.

Adding to the chaos, her boyfriend’s parents unexpectedly arrive in town, making acting “normal” an even a bigger reach for free spirited Ami. And that’s before another ghost—this one vengeful—appears, threatening the living and dead.

Enjoy an exclusive excerpt from Possessed by Murder 

Chapter One

Mr. Bathers stopped by again today, begging for my help. The poor man, he appears to have aged twenty years since the disappearance of his wife. His clothes were unkempt, and his usual tidy self was in such disarray.

He broke down when I explained I have been looking, but Henrietta is, for some reason, out of my reach.

I wish I could ease his pain, but it is as though there’s a black wall hiding her. I have tried everything I could think of to reach her, even the spirit board, which I always swore I would never touch. What is the point of having this gift if I cannot help those direly in need?

I sent him home with a meal for his children so I can rest easy tonight, knowing they have been fed. Tomorrow I will speak with the church and arrange for the ladies to organize meal deliveries. He lost his job last month, and I do not know how they are getting by. The children have been through so much since their mother went missing; I do not want them to lose their father too. But I worry he cannot care for them properly.

She has been missing for almost a year now with no sign of foul play. I know she would not leave her family. Her love and pride for her husband and daughters shone through with every glance. I fear—nay, I know—something happened for her not to return.

I close my eyes and see her beautiful face smiling down at one of the children; she loved her daughters fiercely. Loved, past tense. Although I have seen nothing of Mrs. Bathers since she disappeared, I know she is not returning.

I closed Great-grandmother Gertrude’s journal with a sigh and leaned my head back on my terribly unfashionable eighties plaid couch. My heart broke for that poor family, lost in a never-ending cycle of wondering what happened to their loved one. Mrs. Bathers disappeared in 1944, more than eighty years ago, but reading Gertrude’s journals made it seem like it had just happened.

That was the final passage I’d found about Mrs. Bathers in the journals. I knew that because I had read and reread them this summer, searching for answers about my newfound skills.

My name is Amelia Wethers, and I am a genuine, certified psychic. Which was something I had never believed in, so I had a lot of apologizing to do to all the psychics I had scoffed at in the past.

I was meandering along with my life, not knowing this was going to be my new reality, until a few months ago when my best friend, Carolyn, had blackmailed me into volunteering as a psychic at the spring school fair. A long story short, it was her fault for wearing a yellow dress during a stakeout, but somehow, I got blamed and roped into being the psychic as retribution.

My mom had given Carolyn a box of décor for the tent that contained my grandmother Evelyn’s crystal ball. While I was pretending to use it, somehow my latent psychic abilities kicked in, and I had my first vision.

That first vision knocked me for a loop. I thought I was losing it.

This psychic ability came from my father’s side, traditionally passed down to females. When Grandma Evelyn had only boys, my dad and Uncle Stephen, she assumed the line was broken. When I was born, I showed no signs of having any psychic abilities, so Grandma and my dad never thought to warn me this could happen. But then, at the age of twenty-nine, mine kicked in. Woefully unprepared, there may, or may not, have been a lot of tears and worry that I was losing my mind.

My dad told me that in her later years, Grandma Evelyn had closed herself off to her abilities. The constant demands from people looking to use her skills left her overwhelmed and exhausted. I could understand that. I’d only known about this for a few months, and I already found it overwhelming. I read in one of the journals that I could shield myself from the onslaught of visions by projecting a protective barrier around myself.

I wasn’t very adept at it yet, but I liked to think of my barrier as a cozy bubble of cotton candy that I enveloped myself with. It seemed to help with the everyday visions I got when I touched items or people, but it took a lot of mental stamina to constantly think of having my cotton-candy cloud up. Hopefully, the more I projected my cloud, the easier it would get? At least that was what I kept telling myself.

It would have been nice to know that Grandma was psychic, at least, so all this wouldn’t have been so shocking.

Over the last few months, I had been working to get a better handle on my visions, which was very well received since they were causing me a lot of drama and fainting. No one likes to fall into a faint and cause utter chaos for everyone watching. But I also haven’t had any horrible visions lately like the ones I’d had then. My first vision was of a man being murdered, and it was not pretty.

I managed the coffee shop Brewhaha, which was located below my apartment, so I was often surrounded by customers. I discovered a lot of town secrets before being able to place the mental barriers.

A chittering sound drew my attention to the kitchen. “Viccy!” I yelled, dragging myself off the couch. The Viscount, one of the three ferrets my brother, Laurence, named and guilted me into getting, had escaped his cage again and was scampering up the kitchen cupboards to where his treats were stored on the counter.

Huey and Dooey, his brother and sister, were happily in their cage, watching him through half-closed eyes. I was convinced those two were actually sloths in ferret bodies, happy to spend their days napping and eating while The Viscount was constantly trying my patience by escaping and seeking adventures.

I grabbed his furry body and turned him around to look into his eyes. His whiskers twitched as he hissed at me, obviously mad I’d thwarted his plans.

“Enough of that, Viccy. You know better. It’s not treat time yet,” I lectured him as I placed him back in their large cage that I had off to the side in the living room. I’d never thought of myself as a pet person, but I had to admit my ferrets were pretty darn cute. The Viscount was all white and a mischievous demon; Huey had the sweetest little white star above his nose but is all black otherwise; and Dooey was all black with the fluffiest tail of the three.

My cozy apartment and Brew were on Main Street in the tiny town of Hillside. My bestie, Carolyn, opened Brew just after she had her first child, and it was definitely Hillside’s best specialty coffee shop. Her baking had been known to make patrons swoon. She generously rented the one-bedroom place upstairs to me for an incredibly low rent, and the short commute to work was ideal.

I came back to Hillside a few years ago, and it coincided nicely with Carolyn wanting to step back a little from work to spend time with her family. Her husband, Curtis, who was the kindest man in the world, and their three kids, Christopher, Candace, and Clementine, were her whole world. Managing Brew wasn’t my life’s dream, but I loved being able to work with my bestie. And I also had no idea what my life’s dream was, so this was a great stopgap until I sorted that out.

Viccy ran over to Huey and Dooey and chittered his displeasure at their disinterested faces. With a dramatic sigh, he flopped down beside them and curled up into a tiny ball, keeping one eye open to glare at me.

I felt guilty. I knew that, unlike Huey and Dooey, Viccy needed more stimulation. I checked the time. I wouldn’t be meeting my boyfriend, Nick—that still seemed surreal to say—for another two hours. Nick had recently moved to town and, for some reason, liked me. The weird bits and all.

Nick was another of my psychic stresses. He was a police detective, and I’d had reoccurring visions of him getting shot. I initially tried to fight my attraction to him, but gave in. At least if he was with me when he got shot, I’d know the scene and could do something to stop it, right? At least that was what I kept telling myself. I really didn’t want to keep seeing the vision of his murder but also hoped I did; every vision had the potential to see something new. One day I was sure I’d see something that would give me a clue to when it was going to happen, or who it was, and I’d make sure they didn’t have a chance to pull that gun out.

I hadn’t told him about that vision yet. Only Carolyn and I knew. How did you tell your boyfriend he was going to die at some point, but you had no idea when or why or by whom? I’d rather keep him in the dark until I had some solid clues to share with him.

“Come on, Viccy, let’s go for a walk.” I had officially become one of those people who walked their ferrets.

The Viscount stood up; he knew the word walk. Huey and Dooey snuggled closer to one another; they had zero interest in leaving their cozy nest.

I grabbed his leash and collar, and after a brief power struggle I managed to slip the collar over his head and clip his leash to it. I threw some peanut butter treats that the pet store assured me ferrets loved into the cage for Huey and Dooey, feeling guilty they weren’t coming but also knowing they didn’t want to.

Was this what parenting was like? Knowing your child won’t enjoy something but feeling bad you’re not taking them somewhere because the other child loves it so they might too? I made a mental note to ask Carolyn. All three of her kids had very contrasting personalities.

I picked The Viscount up, and he speedily zoomed up to my neck to perch on my shoulder, chittering happily in my ear. There’s nothing quite like having a ferret climb your breasts to launch itself onto your shoulder.

At the bottom of the stairs leading up to my apartment, I placed The Viscount on the ground, and we set off in a quick march from behind the building to cross in front over to the town square. Hopefully, there weren’t many kids on the playground. The Viscount loved to run around on the play structure and slide down the slide.

The Viscount led us to the structure, his tail straight up in the air and body wiggling. I was happy to see there were just a few kids on it, so I unsnapped his leash and cautioned him to be careful. I settled on one of the benches close by so I could keep an eye on him. It was a gorgeous end of August day, that perfect bathwater temperature that wasn’t too hot.

The playground was just built last year, so it was all still shiny and new. I wished I could fit into all the fun nooks and crannies; they didn’t have anything like this when I was little. We were lucky to get a squeaky metal slide and monkey bars. Now it was all safe, squishy rubber surfacing, little hidey-holes, and circular tube slides.

“Which one’s yours?” A pretty brunette sat beside me and motioned to the structure. “Mine’s the one in the dinosaur costume.” She shook her head and grimaced. “My mother-in-law gave it to him for his birthday last week, and he hasn’t taken it off since. Kids.”

I looked over and sure enough, there was a little green dinosaur running up the stairs and crossing the vinyl planking walkway to the slide (no slivers for this generation), his little tail bobbing behind him enthusiastically. I snickered.

“Laugh all you want; it’ll happen one day to yours,” the woman bemoaned. “Which one is yours?” she asked again, apparently realizing I hadn’t replied and looking at me a little suspiciously.

I scrunched my face up and pointed to The Viscount, who was hanging off one of the bars, swinging back and forth.

She looked at The Viscount, looked at me, and then back at The Viscount.

I shrugged. “You brought a dinosaur.”

The woman burst out laughing. “I’m Prudence. The dinosaur is Elliot.”

“Amelia, and the ferret is The Viscount.”

She held her hand out and as we shook, a familiar feeling came over me.

Prudence was standing in her bedroom, tears streaming down her face. The room was in a total state of disarray. A bright light shone from under the dresser.

I shook the vision off. “It’s under your dresser!” I blurted out.

Prudence gave me a strange look. “I’m sorry?”

“Your ring…it’s under your dresser.”

“How did you know I lost my ring?” She inched further away, looking anywhere but at me.

I was getting used to these looks. “I don’t know. I just know it’s under there. Believe me, don’t believe me, it’s up to you.” I looked at my phone. “It was nice meeting you; we have to run.”

I pried the reluctant ferret off the monkey bars, who squeaked his disapproval at me, and sped out of the park, leaving a bewildered Prudence behind. I understood why Grandma Evelyn said enough was enough with the visions and stopped helping people. I’d only been psychic for a few months, and I was already tired of the strange looks I got whenever I shared a vision.

I tried one time not telling the grocery store teller at the Browncery that her late mother had left her a birthday present, and it was in the old luggage trunk in the garage, but I felt so guilty that I went back and told her. I kept thinking how happy she would be getting that final gift from her mom.

She originally thought I was out of my mind. The next week when I went back, she gave me a giant hug and burst into tears. Now every time I saw her, she asked me to pass messages to her mom. I tried explaining it doesn’t work that way, but she wouldn’t listen, so now I had to lurk around the grocery store to see if she was working or not. If she wasn’t, I scurried in and quickly did my shopping.

Unfortunately, Hillside didn’t have many options for grocery stores, and the Browncery was my closest one. (The Browns own it—Hillside can be described as a little quirky, but the tourists love it, so it was a win.) I felt a little like I was casing the joint when I needed to go there. I tried roping Carolyn into doing my shopping when she does hers, but that was shut down pretty quickly.

To date, messages from the teller I had not passed along were that she finished that day’s Wordle in two guesses, Rosie ate a sock (I did not know who Rosie was, but I hoped she was ok), and the sink was plugged again, what should she do. I suggested she call a plumber for that one, but she told me her mom would know what to do.

Leaving the park, feeling a little awkward for telling Prudence about the ring, I decided to go to Brew and be surrounded by people who didn’t think I should be locked up. At least the employees. I wasn’t too sure about the customers.

“Viccy, if you behave, I’ll get you a treat,” I pleaded as he shrieked and pulled hard on the leash to go back to the playground. Hearing the word treat, he instantly changed course and tugged to cross the street.

Carolyn overshadowed the familiar chime of the door with a high-pitched “NO! No, no, no, no, no! Amelia, I told you last time that was the last time your menace was allowed in here. It’s unsanitary and he’s rude to customers.” She came barreling out from behind the counter and stood in front of me, hands on her hips, blue eyes flashing.

Carolyn was one of those sickeningly pretty people that heads always turned when she walked by. She was five nine, with gorgeous, long blonde hair. Today she had it swept up in a loose bun atop her head. She wore a pair of gray capris, a white T-shirt, and a Brew apron. She somehow made her casual attire look effortlessly chic.

“Caro…” I smiled winningly up at her—at five three, I usually was looking up at most people—“I know you don’t mean that. Look at him, look at that face.” I held the ferret up to her. The Viscount took it one step further, leapt out of my arms, and landed on Carolyn. He scampered up her chest and curled around her neck.

“Viccy loves you. You can’t be so mean to someone who loves you so much, can you?”

Carolyn softened but still glared at me. “This is the absolute final last time. And do not let him out of your sight. I do not want a repeat of when he went on a walkabout and freaked everyone out. It cost me a fortune in food bribes so no one would call the health department on me.”

I smothered a laugh. A couple of weeks ago, The Viscount had been meandering around the café when someone noticed him and thought he was a huge rat. Screams and pandemonium ensued as the customers tried to escape the café. They were fighting to get through the door; some were standing on chairs and tables while Viccy hopped from table to table, sampling snacks and coffees. It took me hours to settle him down from his sugar and caffeine high.

“It’s fine,” I soothed. “I’ve been training him, so he knows that’s bad behavior now. Plus, he’s on a leash, and I won’t let his paws touch the ground. I promise.”

Carolyn looked unconvinced and twirled around with The Viscount still on her shoulders. “Come on, Viccy. I don’t trust her to take good care of you. Let’s go get you a treat, hmm?” She scratched him under the chin as he rubbed his head all over her cheek, his little eyes squished closed in pleasure. “I made those oatmeal cookies you like. Why don’t we get you some fresh, cold water and a cookie?”

I shook my head at my fickle friend and started to follow them when I noticed my nemesis, Cindy, sitting by herself at a table window.

Alongside the large picture windows overlooking the town square were big, comfortable booths. They were the perfect spot for people-watching. Tables dotted the inside between the booths and the service counter, with the kitchen and office in the back.

During my first vision kerfuffle this spring, someone broke into Brew, trying to scare me off. We redecorated most of the café, and I thought it looked better than ever now.

Cindy, Caro, and I graduated from high school together. Years ago, Cindy and I had been close friends until one day she decided she hated me. From that point on, we have had a mutually beneficial relationship of loathing one another. I had no idea why she decided she didn’t like me anymore, but her dislike of me was enough reason for me to hate her back.

After high school, Cindy had married into one of Hillside’s wealthy families, the Howards, and had quickly got pregnant. Since then, she’s been ignoring her husband and son while enjoying fun pastimes such as spending copious amounts of money and generally playing Queen Bee at all things.

Unable to resist, I turned sharply and headed over to her. Sliding into the chair in front of her, I smiled. Like a shark, with all my teeth.

“Hey, Cin, whatcha doing? All by yourself today, no friends joining you? Oh, wait, right. Your bestie went to jail for attempted murder.” I put my hand to my lips and widened my eyes comically. “Oops, my bad.”

Cindy’s friend Summer Foster, the soon-to-be ex-wife of Phillip Foster, was in jail with her cohort for the unforeseeable future for trying to kill me and Phillip in the spring. That was the first vision I’d had—Phillip being murdered in his kitchen by a masked man, who ended up being Summer’s lover. She wanted Phillip dead so she would inherit all his money.

Since I was able to stop it with only bruises, and I’d met the sexy new-to-town detective who is now my boyfriend, I put the experience into the plus pile. And befriended the richest man in Hillside. Not that I’m friends with him because of his money. Phillip was a genuinely kind man and fun to spend time with. The fact that he usually pays was an added bonus.

He was a little stuffy when we first met, but that could also have been because I told him his wife was trying to kill him.

Cindy looked up from her coffee and glared at me. “I’m not in the mood, Amelia.”

I peered closer at her. Her makeup was impeccable, but I could see dark bags under her eyes, which were looking a little bloodshot. Her dark hair looked tousled, but not in her usual perfectly styled tousle. More the running her fingers through it obsessively tousled.

“Everything ok, Cindy?” I asked gently. Even her usual heavily botoxed lips were flat. I loved being mean to Cindy, but that didn’t mean I wanted her to be having a hard time. It’s no fun disparaging someone when they’re already down.

She humphed. “I’m fine, Amelia. Don’t you have something better to do, like clean your rat’s cage, than bother me? I have half a mind to complain to the food and safety department about you bringing that rodent in here.”

“Lucky for me, since you don’t have even half a mind,” I quipped. “And The Viscount is a ferret, not a rat,” I sniped back, then immediately felt bad. “I’m sorry, that was uncalled for.”

I stood and went to the counter to grab a piece of fruit and headed back to Carolyn’s office. Fortunately, I had her baby talking to The Viscount to lead me there.

“Who’s a good Viccy? Are you a good Viccy? Your Auntie Carolyn has more of those tasty, nummy treats,” she cooed.

I stood in the doorway and watched my best friend break off a tiny crumb of cookie and hold it out. The Viscount greedily grabbed it and popped it in his mouth, his cheeks bulging. She was sitting at her desk with The Viscount standing on his hind legs on top of it in front of her, his little hands out for more. The scene was too cute.

“Really?” I asked dryly. “Are you not the friend who banned baby talking to any of her children?”

“Don’t you listen to the mean old lady,” Caro crooned, kissing the top of his head. “She doesn’t understand that you will never grow up and speak, so it’s okay to talk to you like this, but not to children, who might mimic this ridiculous voice. Yes, it is.” He chittered back at her, dancing from foot to foot with his arms out for more cookie.

I shook my head, settled on the brown napping couch off to one side of the room, and bit off a piece of banana. My cheeks were soon as full as the ferret’s. Carolyn’s office is such a mix of secondhand furniture that I dread the day she decides to upgrade anything. I can’t imagine trying to move her forty-year-old filing cabinet, which probably weighs more than a car.

Luckily, she believes there’s no use wasting money if something is still good, and that filing cabinet would survive a bomb. Hmm…I made a mental note to see if I would fit in it in case of emergency. With some snacks, I could probably stay in there for a few weeks comfortably.

“What’s up with Cindy?” I mumbled around my mouthful of food. “She’s at a table alone and looks terrible.”

“I don’t know, but she’s been in every day for the past week. I guess it’s been when you’re not here. She orders a black coffee and a plain bagel, then just sits there by herself, looking out the window. She doesn’t even eat the bagel, just tears it apart and leaves a disaster for me to clean.” Carolyn sounded irked.

My curiosity was piqued. Cindy’s more the “caramel macchiato with half this and half that and a sprinkle of this but none of that” coffee drinker. And she usually doesn’t come to Brew unless she has something she wants to brag about.

“That is very unlike her,” I agreed. “I hope it’s nothing too serious.” As much as I enjoy Cindy’s and my petty squabbles, I would never wish anything truly bad on her.

“What time’s your date with the delectable Detective Peters?” Carolyn finally looked up.

“In an hour.” I smiled, thinking of my boyfriend. “And stop calling him that. We’ve known Nick for nearly three months now. Just call him Nick.”

She eyed me critically. “Are you going to change?”

I looked down. “What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?” I had on a baggy pair of gray sweatpants and a loose T-shirt with a faded unicorn on the front over a black tank top.

“Let’s just go with everything. You’re still at the beginning stage of your relationship, the fun part, where you both dress nicely for each other and you smell good. Not showing up looking like you’re ready to scrub out his toilet.” She handed The Viscount another piece of cookie. “I thought you were trying to dress a little nicer since we went clothes shopping.”

It’s true, and I was. I realized a few months ago I needed a wardrobe upgrade. But some days just call for being comfortable.

“Hey! I don’t look that bad. And besides, we’re just going to Hangry Hang’s, then watching a movie upstairs. It’s not like we’re doing anything fancy.” Hangry Hang’s is possibly Hillside’s most ridiculous restaurant, and we have a lot. Li and Chen own Hangry’s as well as Hangin’ On by a Thread (a tailor) and Hang Inn There (a motel on the outskirts of town).

Our little town prides itself on being a little whacky to bring in the tourists. Li and Chen brought whacky to a whole new level at Hangry’s. The diner was decorated in retro-fifties style, with the black-and-white checkered floor, the shiny red vinyl chairs, and white laminate tabletops.

And then the Hangs’ personal influence shows up. Instead of the usual diner Coke, Pepsi, and pinup girl pictures on the wall, they blew up photos of their faces with food in their mouths. Life-size photos of their heads were everywhere, with their mouths wide open, displaying their menu. They swore they weren’t photoshopped, but I have no idea how Li got an entire cheeseburger in her mouth.

“Go change, Amelia. You can at least show up for your date not looking like you’re ready to help him clean his gutters. Put on your new dress you got last week; it makes your legs look incredible.” Carolyn handed me The Viscount and pointed to the door. I hastily jammed the last of the banana into my mouth and retreated. I knew where I wasn’t wanted. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Don’t forget, you need to come an hour early so we can get a start on inventory. And good job on eating a banana instead of a sweet!”

I mentally patted myself on the back. I was proud of myself, too, for eating the banana. I have horrible eating habits, but I was trying to eat healthier. Thirty was looming and I knew I needed to start eating a little better. It was just so hard, though! Cookies, cakes, candy, chocolate, and chips all tasted so good! Hmm, all the things I liked started with C. Maybe I could just ban C foods? That would leave me with baked goods, pies, and sweets, at least. I contemplated it for a moment, but I knew I would be lying to myself.

I snuck out the back door and went upstairs to my apartment. I caught a glimpse of myself in the bathroom mirror. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to dress a little nicer. I caught a quick whiff of myself, and a shower would be a good idea too.

I tried to put The Viscount back in his cage, but he protested his lack of freedom by becoming a starfish on the cage opening. For such a little guy, he was really strong. I decided, against my better judgement, to let him roam free while I jumped in the shower. Huey and Dooey barely looked up from their nap. I ruffled their fur a little to make sure they were still breathing and got a soft protest from both. I threw a small handful of treats on the floor and a few more in the cage, then headed to the shower.

“Do not make a mess, Viccy, or this is your last time I’m letting you out on your own,” I cautioned, closing the door behind me. He chirped happily and scurried away to my favorite squishy armchair by the patio doors. He liked people-watching, perched on the top of the chair that now had a permanent indent from him.

I knew it was wrong to leave him unsupervised. Last time he had climbed into a hole under the couch and fallen asleep. I spent over two hours looking for him, going out of my mind with worry. And then three hours cleaning my apartment because I realized how dirty it was after I had moved all the furniture around, looking for the little beast. But he looked so happy, curled up and staring intently outside.

Relaxing with the warm water streaming down, my mind wandered again to Mrs. Bathers. Why couldn’t I get her fate out of mind?

Mrs. Bathers has been missing for three months. I ran into Mr. Bathers at the gas station today with his youngest. She looked so withdrawn, not the happy, excited child she was earlier this year. I purchased her a peppermint stick, trying to bring a smile out. She accepted it so sweetly, then quickly lowered her eyes.

Those poor children, never knowing what happened to their mother. My own mother was a pain in the you-know-where, but I always knew where she was and had her love. I knew from the journals that the Bathers had three daughters. Mary, aged eleven, Sophie five, and Alice three. The same ages as Carolyn’s kids. Maybe that was why I was having such a tough time letting this go. I couldn’t imagine Christopher, Candace, and Clementine going through that. Heck, if Carolyn disappeared, I don’t think I would be able to keep it together. Although I would burn Hillside to the ground to find her.

I got out of the shower and wrapped a towel around my body. Wiping the mirror clean of the fog, I gasped. There was a woman staring back at me; she looked vaguely familiar, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. She looked in her mid-forties, with short, curly, dark hair. She smiled sadly and mouthed Find me.

What the heck? I rubbed my eyes and looked again, but it was just me staring back. Was I hallucinating? I shook my head; the story of Mrs. Bathers must be affecting me more than I thought.

I quickly changed into my new, cute pink sundress Carolyn told me to wear, and towel-dried my long, dark hair. I was definitely not the knockout Carolyn was, but I liked to think I veered toward cute with a button nose and petite physique. I wrinkled said nose at my reflection and went in search of some sandals to wear.

The Viscount chittered at me as he ran past my feet to the door. A minute later, Nick knocked. I didn’t understand it, but The Viscount always knew when someone was arriving.

I scooped him up and opened the door. Standing on the other side, looking all kinds of sexy, was my boyfriend (would I ever get tired of saying that?) holding a bouquet of flowers.

At six feet, Nick towered over me, but between tiptoes (for me) and a sore back (for him), we made it work. He leaned down to kiss me, the flowers squishing as The Viscount squeaked his protest.

Nick drew back. “Sorry, Viccy. I didn’t see you there.” He gave his small head a scratch and turned to me. “I was too busy looking at my gorgeous girlfriend.” His gaze swept over me, and I felt a warm tingle. “You look way too good for Hangry’s.”

I laughed, grabbing his hand and dragging him into the living room. “That’s what I said, but Carolyn made me change. Apparently, I looked like I was on sewer duty before.” I twirled around, the dress lifting to show some skin.

“Well, I’m glad you did.” His voice went husky and his eyes darkened. “Maybe we could stay in for the night instead?” He nuzzled my neck.

He looked tempting with his slightly overgrown dark hair, chiseled jaw with its five-o’clock shadow, and broad shoulders. He was the dark chocolate cake that’s rich, decadent, and paired with some sinfully indulgent caramel sauce. I, however, was more a pistachio pudding that a three-year-old made with no parental supervision, so they added some raisins, pineapple, broccoli, and hamburger too. I was still pinching myself that he wanted to be with me.

His offer was enticing. I knew what that look meant. My stomach growled, causing Nick to laugh. “Or we go for dinner but forgo the movie.”

I agreed. He needed to feed me before the acrobatic events of the evening began. I quickly put the bouquet in some water, admiring the array of colors. No straight roses from Nick; he preferred to give me flowers that were a little wild and flashy.

“How was your day?” I called out from the kitchen, poking my head into the living room to see Nick playing with The Viscount. They looked so sweet together. Nick was dangling a toy mouse attached to a string while Viccy batted at it, standing on his hind legs.

“It was all right. The highlight was a call about a cat stuck in a tree.” He looked up to the ceiling and laughed ruefully. “I came to Hillside for a slower pace; I just didn’t realize how much of a slower pace it would be.”

I smiled, thinking of him climbing up a tree to rescue the cat. “Did you take the case?”

He rolled up his sleeve and pointed to a small scratch. “Yup, and he didn’t even thank me for the rescue.”

“I, for one, am happy things have calmed down since the spring. Hillside doesn’t need another murderer running around.” I shivered, thinking of how close I was to Summer when she spilled about her plan to kill her husband.

“Attempted murderer,” Nick reminded me. “Because you stopped her.” He gave me another breathless kiss. “Whoa.” Nick walked over to where I’d set up my easel by the patio doors. “This is looking amazing.”

“Thanks.” I crossed over and wrapped my arm around his waist. “It’s coming along. I’m having some problems with getting the right mischievous glint in Viccy’s eyes, though.”

I was painting an image I’d had stuck in my head since Laurence started talking about getting some ferrets. The scene was of him dressed in a tuxedo, cradling The Viscount in his arms while he sat on a large throne with Huey and Dooey on his lap. I wanted to give it to him for Christmas.

After my brush with death in the spring, I’d dragged my old paints and canvases out. I’ve always dreamt of being an artist and realized I need to push the imposter syndrome aside and just do it. Do it for my own enjoyment and also, maybe, in the future, make a career out of it.

“I think he looks perfect the way he is, but you’re the artist.” He gave me a squeeze. “My girlfriend, beautiful and talented. Why don’t we try Paddy Time?” Nick suggested a new pub that had opened down the road from the café. “You can’t waste that dress on the diner.”

“That sounds great. I’ve been wanting to check them out since they opened.” I forced The Viscount into his cage before slipping on my sandals. I locked the door behind us to the sounds of him wailing what could only be construed as ferret obscenities. I knew from experience he would be curled up sleeping with Huey and Dooey before we hit the bottom step, so I tuned him out and reached for Nick’s hand.

As we passed Brew’s front window, I admired his profile in the reflection and reminisced on when we first met. He thought I was a loon. His first impression of me was me banging my head against a window. The second was when I attempted hot yoga, which resulted in a bloody nose and black eyes. It was not my finest moment. But here we were, almost three months later, and still together.

He had a hard time when I told him I was newly psychic, but once he realized I wasn’t making it up, he came around and over the summer, became my biggest supporter in helping me learn to control my visions. That might have been due in part to the numerous times I was “helpful” by telling random strangers random things. I think he got tired of all the scared looks he received. And maybe one or two little phone calls to the police station about “some quack spouting nonsense.”

We walked down Main Street, and I admired our pretty town. Hillside was the quintessential small town with a town square in the middle and historic buildings surrounding it.

Hillside catered to plenty of outdoorsy tourists due to the hiking paths and off-road trails. Nature lovers loved it, and their non-nature lover friends and family loved the quirky town shops and restaurants. We had something for everyone.

We were fortunate enough to also have a very lucrative business section, mostly due to the Foster family, descendants of one of the first settlers, who wanted to ensure the success of Hillside. They kept an extensive portion of their business, Foster Industries, here and brought in a lot of new businesses. If it weren’t for the Fosters, I’m sure Hillside would be just another dying small town, but fortunately, that wasn’t the case, and between Foster Industries and tourism, the town was thriving.

We headed north and I made a mental note to stop by The Bakery tomorrow morning for a box of pastries before inventory because sugar always helps. There were always loads of baked goods at Brew, but sometimes it was nice to have something none of us had to make any effort to have.

“Oh my.” We stopped in front of Paddy Time. Two months ago, it was a laundromat. Since then, the new owners had transformed it into an Irish pub straight out of Ireland. Irish folk music played on the outside speakers for the customers on the patio, which consisted of several tables on the sidewalk sectioned off with a low wrought iron fence. Nick held the heavy wood-and-glass door open for me, and we stepped inside the darkened pub. A huge bar took up the majority of the wall directly in front of us, and I made a beeline to it.

“Hello there, lassie.” The dark-haired bartender winked at me flirtatiously. His drawl sent tingles down to my toes. He was drying a pint glass and set it on the counter.

“Hi,” I breathed, starry-eyed. There was just something about an accent.

“Ahem.” Nick cleared his throat, looking down at me with his eyes twinkling.

“Sorry, mate. Didn’t see you there.” He was blatantly lying with no remorse. “What can I get the two of you?”

“A Guinness for me. Ami?” Nick slung an arm around my shoulder and pulled me close.

The bartender looked a little disappointed with the show of affection, but quickly recovered and smiled full wattage at me, his even, shiny teeth glimmering under the overhead lights.

“I, um, I don’t know. Can you recommend a cocktail? I’m in the mood for something fruity.”

“How about a Leprechaun’s Gold? A little bit of good old-fashioned whiskey, a splash of orange liqueur, topped up with orange juice, and a gold surprise at the bottom of the glass.”

“Gold?” I was intrigued.

“You have to drink it to find out.”

“I’m in!” I needed this drink more than I needed to breathe. It was like a treasure hunt!

“And a menu, too, please?” Nick asked. “Why don’t you grab us a seat? I’ll place our food order and wait for the drinks.”

“Order me a salad or something?” I grimaced. Nick knew I was trying to eat cleaner.

He winked. “I’ll make sure my dinner is big enough to share.” He also knew I would be picking off his plate.

I looked around the room. Large stained-glass windows streamed colorful light into the darkened space. The walls were wood paneled, and heavy, dark furniture dotted the room. Almost all the tables were occupied, but I spotted an open booth by the windows and steered myself in that direction.

I settled in and looked around but didn’t see anyone I knew. I was always surprised when that happens. Living in a small town and working at Brew meant I usually knew someone wherever I was.

Nick sat across from me and pushed a small, orange-liquid-filled glass toward me. I grabbed it greedily; I needed to know what kind of gold I was getting.

Nick snickered. “Looking for your gold?” He took a slow sip of his Guinness, the foam leaving a little mustache.

I looked at his little white mustache and saw the older man he was going to be. My heart gave a little bump, and I realized with a start that I wanted to be with that man. I took a large gulp of my drink to cover my thoughts.

“Uuuh!” I couldn’t breathe! I jumped up and started flailing around, pointing frantically to my neck. “Uh! Uh-uh-uh-uh.”

“Amelia!” Nick jumped up. “Are you choking?”

“Uh, uh!” I anxiously nodded, my heart racing as I tried to gasp for breath.

He quickly pounded my back, but whatever was caught in my throat wouldn’t give. I could feel my face turning red and was getting a little dizzy from the lack of oxygen. He turned me around and put his hands under my rib cage. Thrusting up on my abdomen, whatever it was that was lodged projected out of my mouth and landed on the floor under the table opposite ours.

My eyes welled up as I took in welcome breaths of air. “Nick, I…”

“Amelia.” He ran his hand down my back. “Thank God you’re ok.” He looked around and spotted the culprit. Kneeling, he picked up the little piece of gold and turned back to me.

The whole bar erupted in cheers. Oh my gosh…they thought he was proposing. “Say yes!” someone shouted from the back of the room. I stared down at Nick, my eyes wide and shaking my head.

Nick laughed at the horror on my face. “I don’t think she’s ready yet, folks,” he announced, placing the breath stealer in my palm and closing my hand around it. My cheeks felt like they were on fire, not because of the near-death experience but because of his words.

The bartender approached the table with our meals. “Aw, man, did you choke on the gold too? You’re, like, the fifth one this week.” His accent was gone.

I stared at him and started to giggle. Nick joined in and shook his head. “Maybe you need to take the gold out of the drink?”

We settled back in the booth, and I stared at the food, my appetite ravenous. Blaming my near-death experience for it, I dug in. Nick had luckily ordered a veritable feast of pub grub on top of a grilled chicken salad for me.

“So, was it worth it?” He nodded to the trinket I’d placed on the table.

I picked it up, and for a second, the fake gold ring flickered, and in my palm was a gold locket with the letters HB etched on the front. I blinked and looked again. It was just a cheap, dollar-store gold ring again. What the heck was going on with me? First the woman in the bathroom mirror, and now this? Were my abilities doing something wonky? Or maybe I was just going nuts?

“Well?” Nick prodded.

I pushed the weirdness to the back of my mind and smiled at him. I was not going to let my near-death experience or these weird blips in reality ruin my night with Nick.

“The ring might not have been worth it, but you rescuing me definitely was.” I swooned at him, making a kissy face.

He laughed and took the ring from me. He slid it onto the ring finger of my right hand. “We don’t want to tie up your left hand.”

I blushed and hastily crammed an entire nacho into my mouth, not knowing what to say. My phone vibrated…saved by the bell.

Did you just get engaged??????

Carolyn. How did she know what happened? Maybe she’s the psychic, not me.

I hastily typed a reply to her, explaining the situation. I showed Nick the text and groaned. “We’re going to be this week’s gossip,” I warned him.

Nick laughed. “I’m not afraid of a little gossip.”

My heart broke for him. He had just moved to town a few months ago and wasn’t used to the way small towns work yet. This week was going to be sink or swim for him.

Excerpt. ©JP Bird. Posted by arrangement with the publisher. All rights reserved.
 

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Meet the Author:

JP writes cozy mysteries with quirky characters that make her laugh when they disagree
with the laid-out plans for their story and take her on a different path. She lives in
Winnipeg, Canada, and hates the cold weather but loves the winter months because
they’re a great excuse to hibernate with a cup of tea or a glass of red wine. When she’s
not writing or reading, she spends her summers in the garden and her winters plotting
how to win her neighbourhood Christmas display competition. They don’t know it’s a
competition, but she plays to win nonetheless.

You can also connect with her on Bluesky.

https://tulepublishing.com/books/possessed-by-murder/