There's No Crime Like the Prescient (Piper Ashwell Psychic P.I. Book 11)

By Kelly Hashway

Piper Ashwell might be a gifted psychic P.I., but premonitions still aren’t her strong suit. So when her boyfriend and partner, Detective Mitchell Brennan, brings her a new case, she’s convinced it’s the murder she saw in a recent vision. Only it’s not.
Now, Piper can’t shake the feeling that what she saw hasn’t yet happened. But how can she prevent one murder while she’s busy investigating another?
When a second body turns up, Piper’s convinced the cases are linked even though the victims didn’t know each other and are seemingly not connected in any way.
Can Piper find the killer before the body count goes up again and her vision becomes a reality?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Kelly Hashway
• Release date: Apr 6, 2021
• ISBN: 9781005734084

Kelly Hashway

Kelly Hashway fully admits to being one of the most accident-prone people on the planet, but luckily she gets to write about female sleuths who are much more coordinated than she is. Maybe it was growing up watching Murder, She Wrote that instilled a love of mystery, but she spends her days writing cozy mysteries. Kelly’s also a sucker for first love, which is why she writes romance under the pen name Ashelyn Drake. When she’s not writing, Kelly works as an editor and also as Mom, which she believes is a job title that deserves to be capitalized.

Book preview

Chapter One

I scan the books in the mystery section of Marcia’s Nook, looking for a title I haven’t already read. Never an easy feat. Though since Detective Mitchell Brennan and I started dating, and he’s pointed out it’s rude for me to completely ignore him to finish a book, I haven’t read as much as I used to. I pick up a novel by an author I’ve never heard of: Lindsay…

My eyes slam shut.

A young woman is lying on her couch, one leg hanging down to the floor while the other is extended across the cushions. Her head is resting awkwardly on the arm of the couch, and her curly sandy brown hair is partially covering her face.

On the coffee table in front of the couch is an empty bottle of pills.

Piper? Marcia says, placing her hand on my arm and bringing me out of my vision.

I meet her gaze. What just happened? I know I had a vision. I’ve been having them since I discovered my psychic abilities at the age of twelve. But what was that I saw? And why? Is this a used book? I ask Marcia. I tend to avoid the used book section for fear of reading the energy of the previous owner off the novel, but every once in a while a customer will put a used book back on the shelf with the new ones.

No, sweetie. She cocks her head at me. You had a vision, didn’t you?

I bob my head as I stare at the book, which I move to my left hand to avoid accidentally reading it again. Being a psychometrist means I have to consciously try not to read the energy off objects and people. If I don’t focus on not reading things that come into contact with my right hand, I wind up having visions, usually of things that have already happened or are currently happening to the owner of the object. But if this is a new book, what on earth sparked my vision? Am I seeing what will happen to the person who buys the book? I don’t often see into the future. It’s one of the areas, where my abilities are concerned, that I’m still working to expand. Or maybe I saw the author of the book. I did slip into the vision when I was reading the author’s name.

Piper, Marcia says, removing the book from my hand. Maybe I should call Mitchell. In addition to feeding both my coffee and book addictions, Marcia has become one of my only friends. Other than my parents and Mitchell, she’s the person I’m closest to.

No, it’s okay. I’m fine. The woman in my vision isn’t, though. I saw a woman. I think she overdosed on pills.

Intentionally? Marcia asks.

I don’t know. I’m not sure who she is.

Marcia stares at the book. I’m going to put this aside.

I think I need to buy it. It might be connected to my next case. There’s a chance this woman died, and I’ll have to solve her murder. If that’s true, I’ll need the book so I can get a read off it again.

Alright. I’ll ring it up and put it in a bag for you. She clearly doesn’t want me to come into contact with the book again in her store. Marcia hasn’t witnessed me having many visions, and while she’s completely supportive of what I do, she worries about me quite a bit.

She walks with me to the register, looping her arm through mine, I’m sure in an attempt to make certain I remain on my feet. I don’t feel any lingering effects of the vision, though. Sometimes, I feel the physical effects of whatever happened to the victim. It can take me out of commission for a while, depending on how they died. But I don’t feel like that now, which makes me question if what I saw hasn’t actually happened yet.

Jax, Marcia’s delivery boy, is at the counter bagging up a to-go order. I’m off to the office building on Second Street, he tells Marcia. Good morning, Ms. Ashwell, he says, giving me a nod.

Hi, Jax.

There’s only about a minute left on the timer for the blueberry scones, he tells Marcia before heading out.

I guess he’s working out well, I say, stepping up to the counter. She’s had one other employee, but he didn’t last all that long.

He’s great. No complaints at all. She rings up the book and bags it immediately. Then she gets my large toasted almond coffee. Are Mitchell and your dad at the office this morning?

Dad definitely will be. I haven’t heard from Mitchell yet this morning, but he always checks in at some point.

She smiles as she sets my coffee on the counter. Well, that’s because he’s hopelessly in love with you.

You got the hopeless part right, I joke.

She shakes her head. When you two started dating, I thought it would mean you’d pick on each other less. She turns around to pour two dark roasts, one for Dad and the other for Mitchell.

Not a chance. It’s our thing.

I’ve come to realize it’s how you two flirt. She laughs as she caps the coffees.

The oven timer goes off, and Marcia holds up a finger. Be right back. She disappears inside the kitchen.

I reach for my coffee and take a healthy sip. I can’t help thinking about the woman in my vision. Mitchell must be at the station right now, learning about the woman’s death.

Piper, I’m boxing up some warm scones for you guys, Marcia yells from the kitchen.

Thanks, Marcia, I call back.

I hate skipping meals, and cases always make me lose track of time, which means missing meals in the process. At least I’ll get a fresh scone before Mitchell presents this murder investigation to me.

Marcia returns with a white bakery box. She rings up my order, and I use my phone to pay. Good luck with your case, and promise you won’t touch that book unless your dad or Mitchell is around.

I promise. Thanks, Marcia. I grab the drink caddy, bag, and the pastry box. Using my back, I push open the door and step outside.

I don’t spot Mitchell’s car in the parking lot, but I do see Dad’s BMW. Feeling the need to center myself after the vision I had, I count the twenty-three steps from Marcia’s Nook to my office. My P.I. agency has one open case at the moment. A local business owner has me looking into his employees since he suspects one of them is stealing from him. I asked him to give me a list of all his employees’ names. When I look at a list, anyone important to the case will stand out to me because their name will appear bold or bigger than the rest. Then I’ll just need to do some digging into that person to find out how they’re stealing. It should be an easy case and take no longer than a day or two.

Good morning, pumpkin, Dad says as I step into the office.

Morning, Dad. I place the items I just purchased on Dad’s desk since his is about twice the size of mine—something I still haven’t gotten over. This is my P.I. agency. I asked him to come work with me after he retired from the Weltunkin PD, where he was Mitchell’s partner for a brief time. Dad’s a great detective, but I admit I resent the fact that he bought a desk that dwarfs mine. He might be my father, but I do own this agency.

Jezebel was teaching Max to bring in the morning paper before I left the house.

That’s my girl. Jezebel is the dog I rescued on a previous case. Her owner was killed, and since she and I hit it off from the start, and she helped me solve that case, I took her in. She’s the sweetest and smartest dog ever. Not to mention she’s the best therapy dog. She always knows when I’m having a vision, and she’s there to comfort me. She spends her days at my parents’ house so she’s not alone in my apartment. Mom takes great care of her, and Jez trains their dog, Max, who used to be quite the terror. His behavior is much improved thanks to Jez.

Mr. MacGwyer sent the list of names for you. I printed it out. Dad points to the paper on my desk.

Oh, good. This case should be simple.

Does Mitchell have anything he needs your help with? Dad opens the box of scones and removes one for himself.

Not sure yet. I haven’t heard from him today.

No sleepover last night? While Dad approves of my relationship with Mitchell, he asks questions a father of a teenager or a college student would ask. The difference is I didn’t date in high school or college, so we’re living all those awkward father-daughter moments now, even though I’m twenty-nine.

Dad, Mitchell is a perfect gentleman and always sleeps on my couch. But he only stays over when we’re working a case that keeps us up late.

Good to hear.

I roll my eyes as I sit down at my desk. Picking up the sheet of paper Dad printed for me, I glance at the names. To my surprise, more than one name pops out at me. Bad news for Mr. MacGwyer. He has two employees stealing from him. Brooke Connors and Steven Carmichael.

Are they working together? Dad asks.

That would be my guess.

Dad opens his laptop. I’ll look into them both.

I eat my blueberry scone and drink my coffee, wondering what’s taking Mitchell so long to check in this morning.

Dad eyes me briefly, his fingers still typing away on his laptop. Missing a certain detective?

No. More like enjoying the peace and quiet.

Dad laughs. Sure. You always were a terrible liar.

It’s not that I miss him. More like I’m curious what’s keeping him.

You two have been together for a while now, Piper. Why are you still denying your feelings? Everyone’s aware that you two love each other.

I groan. Can we not have this conversation?

He swivels his chair to face me. Oh, I see. It’s because you’ve been dating for a while. You didn’t think it would last this long, did you?

No. I thought Mitchell would have gotten bored with me by now. Tired of putting up with my quirks. Instead, he’s more invested in this relationship than ever. I even learned that he’s changed his opinion on marriage. He’s told me he’s not looking to get married, but I can sense that’s not true. The problem is I can’t see myself getting married and living with anyone but Jez. I’m not good at being around people that much. I’ll admit if I have to be around another human, I’d choose Mitchell. He understands me. But marriage? That’s a huge step and not one I’m ready to make.

Pumpkin, Dad says, I can see the wheels spinning in your head. Are you thinking of ending things with Mitchell?

I raise my head to look at him, but instead, I see Mitchell standing in the doorway. It’s obvious he heard what Dad said.

Dad clears his throat. Mitchell, good morning.

Good morning. His eyes are locked on me. Go ahead and answer his question, Piper.

No. Of course, I’m not thinking of ending things with you. I wave him into the office since he’s still in the doorway. Get in here, and eat your scone. I got you coffee, too.

He walks in, and instead of taking a seat at my desk, he walks around it and kisses me. Thank you for breakfast.

You’re welcome. You can get lunch. I smile at him as he takes a seat. That’s when I finally notice the file in his hand. You have a case for me.

I do. Just got it this morning.

I figured that’s why you were late.

Mitchell grabs the pastry box and bites into his scone. I slide his coffee across the desk to him. I already have a pretty good idea what case he’s brought me. The one I saw in my vision in Marcia’s Nook this morning. And that’s why he’s not in a rush to dive into it. We aren’t talking about a missing person’s case. It’s a murder. It’s too late to stop this crime from ending in homicide.

I finish my scone and toss my napkin in the trash can before saying, I had a vision this morning, so I already know what the case is.

You did? Mitchell and Dad both ask.

I nod. I think maybe the woman is the author of the book I picked up.

Mitchell shakes his head. She wasn’t an author.

Oh, well, I only read her first name, so maybe they have the same name. Lindsay.

Again, Mitchell shakes his head. No, her name is Kimberly Parks. She fell from the balcony of her hotel room early this morning.

I sit up straight. That can’t be right.

It was a suicide? Dad asks.

Officer Gilbert was the one on the scene this morning, and that’s what he thought, but one look at the case file told me there’s more to it. Mitchell slides the case file to me.

In my vision, it was a possible suicide too, but it was an overdose of prescription pills.

There were no pills found at the crime scene. Mitchell sits forward. Was your vision of the past or present?

I don’t know. I actually thought it might have been of the future. But not the distant future. It was hard to pinpoint a time. I really thought it was the case you were going to bring me this morning.

Does this mean there’s another dead woman out there? Mitchell asks me.

I meet his gaze, not liking the feeling that’s washing over me. If there’s not yet, there will be soon.

Chapter Two

I reach for the bag with the book inside it. Here, I say.

Mitchell immediately grabs it. Let me. He opens the bag and removes the book. "Diamonds and Death," he reads the title.

I fill him and Dad in on the vision I had.

I need to try reading the book again to see when this is going to happen. I hold out my hand, but Mitchell doesn’t give it back.

I don’t know. You didn’t seem to have any reaction the first time you got a vision from the book, but who knows what will happen now. It was an overdose, Piper. If you feel the effects of it, you might be unconscious for days.

He’s not wrong, pumpkin.

My gaze volleys between them. You guys can’t seriously be suggesting I do nothing. I have to find out who this woman is. If I don’t, she’s going to wind up dead.

She might be already. It’s possible no one has reported her death yet, Mitchell says.

He might be right, but that’s not really a chance I want to take. Give me the book.

Mitchell looks at