Murder In A Box

By Melissa Dill

Everyone loved Charon Runds, a popular medium who channeled both human and animal spirits. Everyone except his sister Sandrine.

But when Charon turns up dead, a supernatural set of events leads Sandrine closer to her brother than she was in life. Much closer, in fact, his spirit possesses her.

Unwittingly, Sandrine is sent on a quest to discover the identity of her brother’s murderer in the quirky town of Cobblestone Keep. Armed with a box of origami cranes and a stolen employment file, Sandrine is on the case. Will she discover the identity of the murderer before they strike again?

If you enjoy cozy mysteries, this novella is for you.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Melissa Dill
• Release date: Oct 12, 2018
• ISBN: 9780463812310

Melissa Dill

I am a writer of poetry and short fiction. I live in Seattle with my husband and two toddlers.After exiting my vocation (Social Work) to care for my children, I discovered that I suddenly had a lot of things to say.Most of my writing is available at no cost on my blog, listed below. I have just finished my second Smashwords exclusive book (!).Writing is my whim and secret joy. So, lean in and let me whisper to you; the funny, the beautiful, the absurd.

Book preview

Murder in a Box

Published by Melissa Dill at Smashwords

Copyright 2018 Melissa Dill

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

Thank you for downloading this ebook. You are welcome to share it with your friends. This book may be reproduced, copied and distributed for non-commercial purposes, provided the book remains in its complete original form. If you enjoyed this book, please return to your favorite ebook retailer to discover other works by this author. Thank you for your support.

Table of Contents

Reality Box

Display Case

Cigar Box

Block of Ice

Brick

Tally Box

Filing Cabinet

Box of Glass

Newspaper Box

The Room

Three Faced Cube

Pizza Box

Coffin

Prison

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Reality Box

It was a Friday night. Sandrine would always remember that. Friday, and she was at a bar, the name of which she could never remember. Your brother is dead, read the text, Come home.

Quit looking at your phone, David’s lips were so close to her ear, she could feel his breath tickle down the line of her chin. When she didn’t even move, he turned her hand so he could read her screen, You have a brother?

The word brother seemed to hit her in the chest, and images of Charon filled her head. They formed a mental slide reel; swinging on the rope across the creek, his arms as slim as the twigs of the white birch; waiting at the bus stop, his hair in a scraggly ponytail; making faces at her when they were supposed to be channeling. Her eyes prickled and her chest trembled. She needed to get out of there.

Sand, David was following her as she pushed through the crowd to the door, Sandy, wait.

Stop following me, she wheeled around to face him. David bumped into her, all six-feet, 200 lbs of him. She fell over like a bowling pin.

"Are you tipsy, Sandy? I mean, I did slip you a Mickey back there."

Her jaw dropped, Horrible! You did not! You know someone’s going to beat you senseless someday for saying things like that.

He grinned down at her, exposing the gap between his front two teeth. David, when he smiled, had this puppy-dog quality to him. Maybe it was the big blue eyes, maybe it was the curly brown hair; whatever it was, she found herself thinking about poodles and making bad choices.

Wanna go back to my place and make-out? David offered her a hand.

I need to book a hotel room, she grasped his hand, pulling herself off the dirty cement, and I think I just sat in bird poop.

That’s okay, you don’t need to wear pants, he looked at her with the sort of relish she reserved for pickles; desire with a hint of wariness. I don’t think I’m ready to meet your parents though.

No one said anything about you coming with me, she twisted around, trying to see the seat of her pants.

David’s smile fell off his face and onto the ground. A sudden gust of wind took it and blew it down the street like a discarded gum wrapper. You don’t want me to come with you?

You don’t even know where I’m going. It’s boring there and you’ll hate it. Not to mention, she took his hand, my family’s a little . . . eccentric.

Calling them eccentric had to be the understatement of the year. Her dad was a feline telepath and her mom channeled spirits from beyond the grave. Her brother, Charon was to be the heir to their business; channeling both animal and human spirits. That, of course, was when he was alive.

Why do you even hang out with me? David interrupted her thoughts.

Let’s see, she ticked off his good points on her fingers, You’re cute, funny, sweet, entertaining, and you’re easy to be around.

David nodded, pacified, So, where are we going?

__

Cobblestone Keep was a tiny little town right off the freeway. The only people that stopped there were truckers and an occasional distressed motorist. Somehow there was a hotel, surviving on the guests generated by the occasional event and the trickle of business rentals. It was a single-story, L shaped structure, more of a motel than a hotel, with rooms exiting into the parking lot.

Sandrine pulled her grey Mazda into a spot in front of the office, a yellow scooter cruising up next to her. The driver flipped up his visor, and gave her a gap-toothed grin, Wow, are you on a tight budget?

This, she waved her hand at the row of doors and the humming pop-machine, is all there is. I’ll have you know, I paid more than I would for a three-star hotel.

"Ooooo . . . three-star," David dismounted his bike.

She tossed him her keys, Why don’t you get the luggage while I check in.

By the time she finished checking in, David had bags slung over both shoulders and a suitcase in each hand. He followed behind her, to the door marked 112, This is like a horror movie. I bet murders happen here all the time.

"David Portner, shut-up."

One thing that always bothered her about David, was that he was loud. He didn’t say these things under his breath, he projected them, and in this case, he was getting a nice echo off the cinder-block walls. A woman with a maid cart stared at them, and Sandrine hurriedly swiped the keycard.

Sandrine? Sandrine Runds, is that you?

She squinted at the maid, trying to subtract ten years from her face, Jessica McDonald!

Did she just call you, ‘Sardine?’ David popped the door open and rolled the suitcases inside.

What are you doing back in town? Jessica’s hazel eyes focused on Sandrine like a green laser.

It’s Charon, she looked at Jessica’s blank face, He passed to the other side.

No one told me, her face turned stormy, arched eyebrows pinching together in the middle, You’d think they would, with the restraining order and all.

Restraining order? the room door slammed, leaving Sandrine alone with Jessica. Where was David when she actually needed him? Jessica could be dangerous. She could grab her by the hair and slam her head into the steel door. Then, even if he wanted to, David couldn’t help her; Sandrine’s bloodied body would block the door from opening.

Are you talking to him right now? Jessica whispered.

Uh, yeah, she fibbed, He says it was just a misunderstanding. He didn’t realize it when he was alive, but things are much clearer on the other side. Oh, man, was she rusty! Fabricating dead people used to be a walk in the graveyard.

Jessica trembled like a spirit had passed straight through her, Did he say anything about the letters?

He didn’t read all of them and he’s sorry.

Jessica’s smile lit up her face and