Death on the Rocks--A Short Read

by K. J. Emrick

  Death on the Rocks

  A Moonlight Bay Psychic Mystery Short Read 2

  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 Wylder stared out across the rugged landscape, down to the cliffs and out to the beautiful blue sea where it met the sky. She could hear the waves pounding on the rocks down on the beach. It was quite windy even though the day itself was a mild one.

  Moonlight Bay was a frequently mild and sunny pocket of beauty on the southern coast of Australia about one hundred kilometers west of Melbourne.

  Miranda turned her face up to the sky to feel the warmth of the early evening sun on her skin. As she lost herself in the moment, she became aware of the TV being turned up horribly loud inside the house. Poor old Ragged Rest! The house had never had so much noise inside when her Uncle Horatio was in residence.

  He’d asked her to housesit while he was off galivanting on his latest adventure. Having every reason to want out of her Melbourne suburb for a while, Miranda had finally written back to him and told him certainly, she would like to spend several nights in a spooky old house. A nice, quiet retreat—

  “Yeah!” Kyle yelled at the television. “Take that!”

  With a sigh, Miranda thought—not for the first time—that she would have to confiscate the TV remote from Kyle permanently. For a ghost, he was hardly peaceful. He liked to be loud, and he liked to make a racket, and she had to wonder if he was just trying to remind her that he was around.

  From inside, the television volume received competition from a radio that was suddenly cranked to eleven.

  “Mission accomplished,” Miranda grumbled to herself. “Hard to forget he’s around when he keeps acting like he owns the place.”

  She turned to look inside, through the immense patio doors. Kyle was in his element, perched on the edge of his seat and totally enthralled by the action movie he was watching, now themed to the music of Katy Perry. All that was missing was the popcorn.

  She felt a sad smile cross her lips as the wind caught the ends of her deep red hair and brushed them across her shoulders. Kyle had always loved to watch a movie with a huge glass bowl of warm buttery popcorn. That was a pleasure he was never going to be able to enjoy ever again. This was real life, after all, not a Bill Murray movie… ghosts couldn’t eat food.

  Once again, Miranda felt a dreadful pang of guilt. The only reason Kyle was a ghost, instead of a living and breathing popcorn-munching person, was because of her. It had been nothing to do with Kyle. He’d been an innocent casualty of her digging into the methods and culture of the mob. Her first crime novel, The Mob’s Calling, had cut a little too close to the bone for some people, apparently. Which is why they had come after her.

  Kyle had just been caught in the crossfire, so to speak.

  And yet, despite all of that, Kyle had never once thrown the ugly truth in her face. Not only that, but the fact that he was a ghost who seemed unable to move on to the next realm of existence did not appear to trouble him in any way. That’s exactly how Kyle had been in life. Mister Happy-Go-Lucky, all excited buffoonery, and sandals.

  He kicked his sandals up on the coffee table now, the hazy blue image of his spirit turning in his seat to face her, almost as if he could sense her thinking about him. He was the spitting image of himself from when he’d been alive. Tall and thin and wiry. Sandy brown hair and lighter brown beard, the beard trimmed and combed neat and his hair tousled just so.

  “What’s the view like out there today?” he asked her.

  With a smile, she cupped a hand to her ear, pretending not to hear him. “What’s that? If you want to talk to me you’ll have to turn all that noise down!”

  Rolling his eyes, Kyle reached out to the open air toward the TV, and the volume went down. He did the same sort of Jedi motion to the radio and it shut off. He could control electronics, to an extent. Most ghosts could.

  “That’s better,” Miranda said to him. “It’s beautiful out here, as always.” She spared a sigh for the beauty of creation before walking into the living room to join him, sliding the patio door closed behind her.

  “We should go for a walk,” Kyle suggested. “After the movie.”

  “Sure. Why not.” Miranda sighed. “I just wish I didn’t have errands to run tomorrow. I’m just in the mood to spend the whole day floating about Ragged Rest.”

  “Hey, I’m the only one who gets to float,” Kyle said, laughing, “and you should be used to your routine here by now. It’s been a few months now, Miranda.”

  “Well, I guess it’s when you get used to a routine that something always comes along to upset it.” Miranda laughed, then turned sharply when she heard a gentle thud on the glass of the patio door.

  Her attention was drawn down low to where a big Golden Retriever sat with his nose pressed firmly against the glass.

  “Are you serious, pooch? Did you hear me just say that bit about something coming along to upset our routine, or what?”

  Miranda knelt and pantomimed to the dog through the glass for a moment, with him following her finger and bumping his nose into the door again and aga
in. He was adorable. Standing up she reached over for the handle of the sliding door.

  “Well don’t just let him in,” Kyle complained loudly.

  “Why not?”

  “You don’t know where he’s been! He could track mud everywhere or fleas or… or salmonella!”

  Miranda gave him a hard stare. “Seriously? Kyle, are you afraid of dogs?”

  “Bah,” he scoffed at her. “Of course not. Besides, I’m a ghost. We do all the scaring, right?”

  “Oh, I’m just quaking in my socks,” she muttered as she slid the door open. The mutt came bounding in, tongue lolling, prancing from foot to foot with seemingly endless energy.

  She crouched down to pet the adorable animal. “Now then, what is your name?” Miranda twisted the heavy leather collar around until she found the bright silvery disc she was looking for.

  Kyle tentatively floated up next to Miranda, easing closer until the dog twitched and stuck his snout out to sniff at the air around him. “Oh! I think he can see me! Get away, get away!”

  He floated back, through the couch, staying low on the other side so that only the top of his head was visible.

  Miranda shook her head. Men.

  Well… ghosts, in this case.

  Her fingers found the tag on the collar. “Butter,” Miranda read off the disc. “What a nice name. And it says here that you belong to Alice Gill. Well, maybe I should get you back home, huh? Here’s the address. Hmm. That’s just a short drive away. Sound good to you boy?” She ruffled the fur on the dog’s head. “Hey, what’s that on your paw?”

  As soon as Miranda said that, Butter turned and walked out through the open patio door.

  He stopped just outside and whined, looking Miranda right in the eyes.

  “Kyle, it looks like he has a little blood on his paw.” She studied the dog closer now. “I think he’s trying to tell me something.”

  “So… take a message and send him on his way,” Kyle said from his position behind the couch. “He’s a dog, Miranda. What could he possibly be saying? Timmy’s down the well?”

  “Oh so funny, Kyle Hunter!”

  Butter whined again and took a step towards Miranda, then a step back again. Closer, back. Closer, back.

  There was no denying it now. This dog wanted to tell her something.

  As a psychic, she was used to getting messages from the universe. Flashes of the future. Glimpses of the past. Ghosts, too, she reminded herself as she glanced over at Kyle. She supposed it shouldn’t surprise her when an obviously intelligent animal like Butter came seeking her out to bring a message of his own.

  “Come on,” Miranda said to Kyle.

  He finally came out from behind the couch. “Oh, you have got to be kidding me.”

  “No, I’m serious. He obviously wants us to follow him. His energy is kind of sad, too.”

  “Fine,” Kyle said, blowing out a long-suffering sigh. “Then let’s go follow Rin Tin Tin.”

  “Butter,” she corrected him.

  “I was being sarcastic,” he said with another sigh.

  “You know you don’t actually breathe anymore, right?”

  “Are we going to follow the dog,” he asked, his pride tweaked, “or are we going to stand here pointing out how dead I am?”

  “Er, right. Sorry.”

  Miranda set off at a run, with Kyle zooming along effortlessly beside her. When he saw that he’d gotten their attention, Butter led Miranda and Kyle down onto the beach where the sun was just starting to reach down to the water’s edge.

  “He’s still running!” Kyle said, smiling at Miranda’s red face and ragged breathing. “Boy, it sure is nice that I don’t have to breathe anymore.”

  “Shut up,” Miranda puffed, as she kept after the four-footed ball of golden fur. Butter led them toward an outcrop of black rocks under an overhanging cliff.

  Then the dog stopped dead in his tracks when they got there and Miranda had a sinking feeling. Once again, Butter began to whine, except this time it turned into a howl of anguish. Now Miranda could see that he was standing over the lifeless and bloodied body of a young woman.

  Butter whined again, and laid his head down on the woman’s chest.

  “Oh no,” Miranda said, breathlessly. “I’m guessing we found Alice Gill.”

  Chapter 2

  Just two hours later the sun had set entirely, huge police searchlights on tall pole stanchions shone everywhere, making the beach look like some sort of strangely unrealistic movie set. As Miranda sat on the back step of the ambulance, a blanket around her shoulders, she stared vacantly across to the two police cars parked side-by-side just feet away, their lights flashing a discordant blue rhythm.

  “I thought we were supposed to be leaving all this dead body stuff far behind us,” Kyle said, most unhelpfully. “Isn’t that why we left Melbourne in the first place?”

  “Shhh!” Miranda hissed, louder than she had intended to.

  “I’m sorry,” a deep and resonant voice, which was not Kyle, said from right beside her. “If you’d rather not talk now, I can come back.”

  Her eyes popped open with a start and she turned to see a well-dressed man standing next to her. His neat but very plain suit told Miranda that he was, without a doubt, a police detective. His physique told her that he must work out quite a bit between shifts. He was probably around her age, with dark hair and blue eyes that were highlighted by the backlights of the ambulance.

  Miranda bit her bottom lip as she thought for a moment that it was very likely that he was, in many ways, Moonlight Bay’s finest.

  Then she told her mind to stop wandering. This wasn’t the time.

  “I’m sorry, I wasn’t talking to you,” she said, steadfastly ignoring Kyle’s attempts to get her attention.

  “So, who were you shushing then?” the man said, his eyes darting from side to side, clearly seeing no one but Miranda.

  “Oh, I was just shushing myself,” Miranda said unconvincingly. “You see, I was just wondering what it all meant and I guess my thoughts were getting out of control. And so, I shushed myself.”

  “Ha!” Kyle chuckled, floating in between her and the hunky detective. “Now that was smooth. He’s kind of handsome, though, isn’t he?”

  “Not helping,” Miranda muttered out of the side of her mouth. The detective heard her anyway.

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “Um. I’m so sorry, I’ve just had a bit of a shock, you know? My name is Miranda Wylder.” She tried to smile in a way that would indicate she was entirely normal, and not a total loon. “I’m the one who found the body of that poor young woman.”

  “Sympathy vote. Nice!” Kyle said.

  Miranda stared intently at the police detective, determined not to take any notice of her ghostly friend.

  “Sure,” the man nodded sympathetically. “I understand. Since we’re making introductions, my name is Jack Travis, and I’m a detective with the Moonlight Bay PD. I’ve been assigned to this case. I understand you’ve been through a lot, and I know one of our officers has already taken your statement but would you mind sticking around for a little while, just in case I have any more questions for you?”

  “Sure, no problem. Erm, I was wondering, actually… how did that poor woman die?”

  His expression became hard as stone. “I’m afraid I can’t really go into that right now, Miss Wylder. I’m sorry.”

  “Oh yes, of course.” Miranda pulled out a smile for him that she hoped was friendly. “The ongoing investigation and what-have-you. Forgive me.”

  “You’re already forgiven.” He returned her smile with a disturbingly cute one of his own before turning to head back in the direction of the crime scene.

  “He is tasty!” Kyle said, staring after the departing detective.

  “Oh control yourself, Kyle.” Miranda knew this Jack Travis was exactly Kyle’s type, tall and dark and built like an Olympic athlete. Unfortunately, that made him just her type, too. “Listen, Kyle, since you like hi
m so much, why don’t you follow him around for a bit. You know, see what you can find out.”

  “I’m sure I wouldn’t mind that at all.” Miranda rolled her eyes when he licked his lips. “I’m sure he’s the type to talk to himself in the shower. Best be prepared to follow him in there, right?”

  She tried not to stare at him as she shook her head just a fraction of an inch. “Don’t you dare!”

  “Oh, come on. Let a ghost have some fun. It’s not like I have a lot of social contact outside of you!”

  “Kyle, so help me God, if I find out you’re snooping on cute guys in their showers I will find a way to lock your spirit into a little wooden box and throw away the key!”

  “Bah,” he pouted. “You’re no fun. Fine. I will only follow him when his clothes are on. Most of his clothes.”

  “Look,” she said to him, “I don’t need to know if he wears boxers or briefs. I just want to know why this woman was left for dead just up the beach from my uncle’s manor house.”

  Kyle nodded his understanding, and with a little wave he floated off to become Jack Travis’s shadow.

  Miranda tried to ignore the leering smile on his face as he went.

  She heard a noisy scrabbling coming from beneath the ambulance and looked down to see Butter, the golden retriever, crawling his way out. As soon as he spotted her, he whined and joined her, sitting at her side with his head resting heavily on her knee.

  “Butter, you poor little doggy,” Miranda said, and gently stroked the top of his head. “I wonder if you saw what happened to your mistress? I wish you could tell me.”

  “Here boy! Come on Butter.”

  The voice came from just in front of Miranda. It belonged to a young woman with luscious blonde hair and a pretty oval face covered with freckles. She patted her knees to get her dog’s attention, the blue haze around her spirit wispy in the breeze.