A Tale of Mer-der: His Ghoul Friday, #1

By Morgana Best

Aussie journalist Misty Friday's mean boss sends her to an island resort in the Great Barrier Reef to investigate a paranormal event, but mermaids and murder throw her off the track. 
When Misty makes waves, she attracts the attention of the murderer and one mysterious stranger. Will Misty get to the bottom of this, or are there too many red herrings?

Book 1 in this cozy mystery series from USA Today Bestselling Author, Morgana Best.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Best Cosy Books
• Release date: Jan 28, 2020
• ISBN: 9781925674910

Morgana Best

After surviving a childhood of deadly spiders and venomous snakes in the Australian outback, bestselling author Morgana Best writes cozy mysteries and enjoys thinking of delightful new ways to murder her victims.

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

Iliked my boss just fine, except she was evil and I hated her. I called her Skinny and so did my best friend and colleague, Cordelia. Skinny was the devil incarnate, the worst boss I’ve ever had, and that was saying something. It was saying a lot actually, especially since my first job was at a fast food joint where the manager was arrested for murdering his mother-in-law and making her the special ingredient in the secret hamburger sauce.

It seemed Skinny’s whole purpose in life was to make my life and the lives of the other journalists at Ghoulzette, the paranormal magazine where I worked, an utter misery. She was indeed the Boss from Hell.

A thin-lipped smirk spread across her face. I made a mental note to inquire after the health of her mother-in-law.

I’m sending you on a holiday, Misty, she announced.

I managed to find my voice. A-a holiday? I stammered. A cold shiver ran up my spine.

She shook her head and shot me her best sneer. "Did I say a holiday? No, I meant an assignment, but it is at a holiday destination. Whitehaven Island."

I gasped. Whitehaven Island was in the Whitsundays, a group of islands on the beautiful Great Barrier Reef off the coast of North Queensland. It was an expensive tourist destination, possibly the most expensive tourist destination on the reef. What’s the catch? I said without thinking and then stuffed my fist in my mouth.

Skinny’s pencilled eyebrows rose high on her forehead, no doubt a difficult feat considering she spent most of her money on fillers and Botox. Catch? she spat. This won’t be a luxury holiday for you and don’t you forget it.

She rapped one of her French tipped fingernails so hard on the desk I thought it might snap off. There’s a paranormal anomaly on the island, and you’re there to get to the bottom of it and report. And Misty, don’t slacken off. Her expression turned dark.

Now I was really afraid. An anomaly? I said, trembling. What is it? Are there reports of zombies? People vanishing? A deadly virus? A portal to another world and everyone who gets close to it dies? I shut my eyes tightly and did my best not to imagine anything worse.

Skinny grunted rudely. Of course not. It suddenly turned summer there.

Relief flooded my body. Summer? I repeated. It’s North Queensland. It’s always summer in North Queensland.

Skinny leant back in her chair and smirked once more. "It’s the middle of winter, Misty. Queensland does get marginally colder in winter. Why, sometimes the people up there even wear coats and roast marshmallows."

Really!

No. What I’m saying is, there is a heat wave on Whitehaven Island in the middle of winter, and it’s also happening to a lesser degree at nearby locations such as Dreamcatcher Island and Airlie Beach. There is a noticeable difference in temperature.

I pulled a face. I can’t see why this is a job for a paranormal journalist. Surely this would be of interest to a meteorologist.

Skinny’s bony hand slammed down on her desk. The meteorologists say it’s an anomaly, obviously. That’s why I’m sending you there.

But I don’t know anything about science, I protested. How can I get to the bottom of it? What if it isn’t something paranormal?

Skinny emitted a grunt of disgust. We’re journalists, Misty! If you can’t get a real story, make it up!

With that, I was dismissed from her office.

CHAPTER 2

Iwas hunched over my computer in the magazine’s storage cupboard, a room which doubled as my office. At least there was a tall yet exceedingly narrow window directly in front of me, so I could stare at the trees and grassy paddocks sloping away from the building.

Cordelia burst into the room. Sorry, she said as the door hit the back of my chair. I do that every time.

I swung around after she shut the door. Have you heard the news?

She nodded. You lucky thing! A holiday on Whitehaven Island!

It’s hardly a holiday. It’s an assignment, and I think it’s a ridiculous one. I don’t know the first thing about weather, so how will I discover why it’s summer in the middle of winter? Skinny says I have to make something up.

Cordelia shrugged one shoulder. "So? Make something up. Whitehaven Island is a luxury resort. You’ll have the most wonderful time there. And Skinny won’t be able to book you into horrible, cheap accommodation like she usually does, because there is no horrible, cheap accommodation on Whitehaven Island. It’s a win-win situation. What could go wrong?"

A black shadow descended on me as she said it. I don’t have a good feeling about this, Cordelia.

Cordelia pursed her lips. You’re just upset about Steve.

Steve and I had been together for ages. He had caught me muttering an incantation over a candle one day, and that was the beginning of the end. I waved at her in dismissal. Nonsense! That was months ago.

It takes longer than a few months to get over being dumped, Cordelia said, especially when you couldn’t get another job at a reputable newspaper after all those lies he spread about you. You had to take a job here at this ridiculous magazine, and we both know Skinny calls you ‘His Ghoul Friday’ behind your back.

I nodded slowly. She did have a point. "I didn’t know it was her idea of a joke until you told me His Girl Friday is an old Cary Grant movie about journalists. Anyway, I suppose you’re right. I should try to think of this as a holiday and not get too upset about the job. It’s just that I always like to do my best. I can’t see how it being summer in the middle of winter is grounds for a paranormal article."

That’s because no one who works here believes in the paranormal, Cordelia said, but our readers do. Don’t forget that.

I waved my hand at her. "We believe in the paranormal. After all, I’m a witch."

Cordelia stuck her head in a cupboard. Before I could ask her what she was doing, she pulled out a deck of tarot cards. I’m going to pull a card to see how your assignment will go.

As she shuffled, a card fell to the floor. This must be the right card! she announced. She looked at it and then turned white.

CHAPTER 3

Iwas on a water ferry from Airlie Beach to Whitehaven Island. I couldn’t help smiling to myself. Skinny had sent me to some dreadful places, so I couldn’t believe I was going to Whitehaven Island and staying in a luxury resort. Skinny had made a point of telling me she was sending me to the cheapest resort she could find on the island, but as far as I understood from googling photos of the resort, it was luxury all the same.

The waters were calm, and the seas, deep blue. I inhaled the delightful sea air and sank back into the comfort of my plastic seat.

I tried not to worry about The Tower, the tarot card Cordelia had pulled. It was the card I most dreaded seeing. To me, it meant destruction, chaos, and disaster, although Cordelia had done her best to convince me it could also mean a new beginning. I wasn’t so sure. I was wearing an evil eye bracelet, and a eucalyptus leaf in each sandal for protection.

A man’s voice startled me. Is this seat taken?

I opened my eyes and looked at him. He was tall, impossibly thin, of an indeterminate age, and had a shock of dark hair that stuck out in all directions. Um, no, I said. There were plenty of seats vacant. I wondered why he had decided to sit next to me.

The man offered his hand. Good morning. I’m Thaddeus Thunderware.

I could not help my lips twitching a little at his name, not that I could talk with a name like mine. Hi, I’m Misty Friday. I shook his hand, which proved to be limp and clammy.

Is that your real name?

I nodded. It wasn’t the first time I had been asked that question. Whatever had my parents been thinking? They were both academic philosophers, and in their youth had partaken of substance abuse so they could pontificate about Socrates and the like. Perhaps they were having an acid flashback when they had decided upon my name.

I’m a meteorologist, Thaddeus continued. They say it’s been hotter than usual for winter on the island.

I sat bolt upright. A meteorologist? I couldn’t believe my luck. I had stumbled across the very person I needed to interview. But his name? Was this a prank? Could a meteorologist really be called Thunderware? I wasn’t going to ask, especially given my own name. Instead, I said, I’m a journalist and my editor has sent me to do a story on the weather.

He made a strangled sound in the back of his throat and his face turned an unpleasant shade of purple. "My boss sent me to check it out, just to keep the mayor of Whitehaven Island happy, but there is nothing wrong with the weather. It’s simply a normal condition." He went into a lengthy, and exceptionally boring, scientific explanation of why it was summer in the middle of winter, which made me want to jump out of the boat and be eaten by sharks just to escape from him.

As his voice droned on and on about data homogenisation, delayed onset of the Australian monsoon, and the relationship of uncertainties propagation, and other matters I couldn’t possibly understand, I looked around at the other passengers.

I caught a fleeting glimpse of a man staring at me just before he ducked back behind a wall. I told myself it was simply my imagination, but he had certainly seemed furtive.

When I could finally get a word in, I excused myself from Mr Thunderware—could it really be his name?—and walked over to the stand where free coffee was available for the passengers.

A short, portly woman bumped into my shoulder and at once apologised. Are you a tourist or a resident?

Neither, I’m here for the weather anomaly, I supplied.

She looked surprised. Weather? There’s nothing wrong with the weather. I’m here for the mermaids.

It was my turn to look surprised. Mermaids? Did you say mermaids?

She nodded vigorously. Yes, that’s why we’re all here. She gestured expansively to a nearby group of women all clutching cameras. We’ve come over to the island to see if we can catch a glimpse of the mermaid.

For the first time I noticed the camera hanging around her neck. You’re from a photography club?

She nodded again. Yes, we want to take a photo of the mermaid. She laughed and flushed red. "You probably think I’m silly, and I don’t really believe in mermaids, but something is going on. Why would Doris suddenly say she saw a mermaid? She’s used to seeing dolphins, so surely she couldn’t have made a mistake."

I rubbed my forehead. I haven’t heard anything about mermaid sightings on Whitehaven Island. I’ve only heard about it being summer in the middle of winter.

She laughed. "It’s always summer in the middle of winter in Queensland. No, this whole mermaid thing has only just happened. I’m not surprised it hasn’t hit the media yet. We haven’t told anyone."

I couldn’t believe my luck. Was I onto a paranormal scoop? Surely even Skinny herself would be happy with me. Exactly when did this all happen? I asked her.

Yesterday afternoon, she said. One of our photography club members, Doris—she’s not here today because she has one of her migraines—returned from Whitehaven Island yesterday, but she saw a mermaid first.

I was intrigued. And she was sure it was a mermaid? I also wanted to ask whether Doris was prone to heavy drinking, but I thought it impolite.

Yes, Doris and I live at Airlie Beach. I’m Gillian, by the way. I introduced myself, and she continued. Doris comes to Whitehaven Island often. She was on a quiet little beach when she saw a woman go into the water. Right in front of her eyes, the woman turned into a mermaid and swam out to sea.

My spirits fell. Clearly, Doris had been tripping. I forced a smile. Well, that’s so interesting, I lied, smiling and nodding as I spoke.

The woman pulled up a text on her phone and shoved it in front of my nose. Doris took this photo.

I took the phone from her. It surely looked like a mermaid. I squinted and looked again.

She took the phone back. See here, Doris was taking photos of the water with her phone, and the mermaid is in human form in the first photo. She thrust her phone back into my hands.

I looked at the photo. It was of a young

Reviews for A Tale of Mer-der

[jetangen4571 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

urban-fantasy, cosy-mystery, murder, mermaid, shifters, situational-humor, verbal-humor, laugh-out-loud, Australia An assignment at a classy tourist resort to investigate the odd weather and paid for by the boss from Hades. What could possibly go wrong! Well, pretty much everything, like forgetting to pack underwear, then roasting the pair she was wearing, then having to buy the only offering at the resort which was size ginormous, then the growly dog ran off with them, and THEN getting caught by a very attractive man! And then came the dead body. And the mermaids. So laugh your sox off while enjoying the mystery. I certainly did!