Murder and Magic at March House

By Maggie Mundy

This book was previousl published as the steamy paranormal historical mystery, A Death in the Family. This is a sweet cozy mystery version. 

What should you do when your aunt is murdered before your eyes? Then she shows up as aghost.

Annabel takes over her aunt's 1920s detective agency to solve the crime.

In doing so, she must learn to trust her aunt's partner, Isaac—a World War I hero—who is as mysterious as he is handsome and thinks she is just a decadent socialite.

Through opium dens and cult worship, can they find the killer together?

Murder, mayhem, love.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Maggie Mundy
• Release date: Apr 14, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201107833

Maggie Mundy

Australian author Maggie Rose lives in Australia with her husband and dog Duke. She has always loved reading fantasy, paranormal, and contemporary romance books and decided the stories in her head needed to be written—it was either that or start on medication. She writes hot, sexy men and women who have troubled pasts and are looking for their soulmate. She may make them suffer along the way, but you always get a happy ending. Maggie believes romance can be fun to read and write, but it's exciting to spice it up with the uncertainty that comes with suspense where the rules can be broken.

Book preview

Murder and Magic at March House © copyright Maggie Mundy

This work is copyright. Apart from any use permitted under the Copyright Act 1968, no part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, without the prior permission in writing of the publisher, nor to be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published without a similar condition, including this condition, being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

Murder and Magic at March House

Annabel can see dead people.

What should you do when your aunt is murdered before your eyes?

Annabel takes over her aunt’s 1920s detective agency to solve the crime.

In doing so, she must learn to trust her aunt’s partner, Isaac—a World War I hero—who is as mysterious as he is handsome and thinks she is just a decadent socialite.

Through opium dens and cult worship, can they find the killer together?

Murder, mayhem, love.

Dedication

For my husband Alan, and my daughters Jenny and Rachel who are my greatest fans.

For my wonderful sister Nora, and my mom Eileen, who is no longer with me.

She would blush if she read my books.

Acknowledgments

I would like to take this opportunity to say thank you to all the people who have made this book possible with their help, support, and encouragement.

Extra thanks go to my husband Alan, and daughters Jenny and Rachel. They never doubted I could do this, even when I did. Thanks also to my critique partner, Delwyn Jenkins, who has been one of my greatest supporters, and has always been generous in sharing her time and knowledge. I also want to thank my number one fan, Suzanne Terry, for her support and encouragement, and the odd nag to write more books.

I would like to express thanks to all members of The South Australian Romance Authors’ group for the support and encouragement. These groups make the dream of publication possible for so many.

Special thanks go to my editor Kaylene at Swish Design and Editing, whose support and help have made the journey to publication easier. Thanks for believing in me and my story.

I would also like to thank Jane Hinchey for her fantastic cover.

Chapter 1

Happy New Year, Annabel yelled, as she winked at David. Let’s hope it brings fun, murder, magic and lots of champagne.

David winked back. As long as the murders are ones you’re investigating and not committing, then that’s okay with me. David yelled in reply, which got a few looks from people nearby.

Annabel’s voice was hoarse from trying to be heard over the noise. It was another excuse to lubricate her vocal cords with more champagne. Not that she ever needed an excuse. As usual, Aunt Gwen’s party was the place to be in Bath, and this year’s Egyptian Extravaganza was living up to past celebrations. Annabel hiccoughed, pretty sure her hangover would be amazing in the morning, but what the heck.

The champagne bubbles tickled her nose as she drank and passed fellow pharaohs, Egyptian queens, and slave boys. Slave men, really, from the look of them. Most had only a small piece of white cloth wrapped around their middle.

Annabel’s fake beard drooped, so she gave up, pulled in off and stuck it on her chest to see if anyone would notice. She should have gone with being an Egyptian goddess without the facial hair.

David hugged her and planted a kiss on both cheeks.

I suppose now that you’re twenty-six today, you’ll start going all responsible on us, he uttered as he flamboyantly flicked the fringe of his slave girl’s wig back. She had to admit he was definitely a more convincing woman than she was a man.

Now why would I do that? Helping Gwen run the Agency and Women’s Centre is as far as I’m going with my responsibilities. After hours, I intend on being carefree as ever. Hopefully, I can do some murder cases instead of just the ones where the family heirlooms have gone missing. It’s usually the butler who did it, anyway. What I would give to get my hands onto a good assassination attempt on a politician or the like.

I see Gwen’s has the mysterious Isaac Pennington in tow. You must introduce me. Tall, dark, scarred. I’m sure he has a rich sister somewhere who could help me pay off my debts. David tried to rearrange his fake breasts.

It didn’t work, one of his socks kept descending to his waist so he eventually gave up. He pulled them out and threw them over his shoulder. Being flat chested is in now anyway, he said as she laughed.

Annabel slipped her arm through his and picked up another glass of champagne from a passing server. She would not mention she’d been interested in the scarred business partner of her aunt for longer than she cared to remember. She would also ignore the fact he never seemed to notice her presence apart from a polite hello. Then again, she always was on her way to a party or drinking champagne when she saw him. She took a deep breath and helped with the entertaining. It would get her mind off Isaac.

She found Jacob, her aunt’s butler, and checked if he needed her to attend to any of the celebrities being a bit too outrageous. The large hallway at number 8, The Royal Crescent, Bath, otherwise known as March House, was the perfect venue for Gwen’s party. It had a crystal chandelier, and the marble staircase that led to the upper balcony. Gold and white were the colors of the evening with large drapes hanging down. Of course, they were being wafted by large fans moved by more slave men. Unemployment meant people would do whatever it took these days to get by.

Gwen waved from the balcony where she had unfurled the banner for 1924. Annabel lifted her champagne glass in salute, and Aunt Gwen did the same in return. Where would the future take them all now? Annabel still had nightmares about the men she had cared for after the war. Isaac might have survived, but like many he still suffered. She took a gulp of her drink and looked back at Gwen.

Her aunt made a wonderful Cleopatra. Annabel just wasn’t sure why she asked Isaac, as the party wouldn’t be his thing. Not that she didn’t want him there, even if all he was going to do was scowl. It was just he hadn’t bothered to dress up and peered down his nose at everyone with constant disapproval.

He never wanted to mix with her or any of her friends, anyway. That was hardly surprising, as they were all flighty. She guessed he was about the same age as her, but who knew. He always dressed in black. It matched his long black hair that covered the scarred side of his face. The other side showed he must have been handsome once. He was so aloof now. It was more than his face and hand that had been scarred.

Oh drat, he’d seen her and was giving her the usual disapproving look where he raised an eyebrow. It didn’t matter as another friend, Mark, grabbed her arm and whisked her off.

Wonderful mad Mark, who Aunt Gwen tried to match-make her with. It hadn’t worked. Them both being orphans and all, wasn’t enough. He would get a New Year kiss and nothing else.

Annabel glanced back, and Gwen motioned with a wag of her finger. She would expect exemplary behavior, which meant not getting too drunk. It was probably a bit too late for that, but Annabel smiled regardless.

Then the world stopped, so no sound could be heard. One moment Gwen stood there in all her splendor. Then she fell forward and landed with a thud onto the floor below. Just one moment that changed everything.

Annabel screamed and clawed at the people in front of her. They wouldn’t move.

Get out of my way, Annabel yelled, her headdress swiped aside and crushed underfoot as she reached Gwen. She fell to her knees as a groan of pain left her lips seeing her beautiful aunt’s neck bent at a strange angle. Annabel’s head kept shaking as if it was untrue, but her heart knew better. Her eyes knew better.

No, she screamed.

The sound could never be loud enough or long enough to cover the loss. People moved away fearing the ferocity of her grief.

Gwen’s Cleopatra wig still covered her face. Annabel stared as if it was a picture, she was trying to absorb but stay separate from. It didn’t work. She pulled Gwen into her arms as if hugging her would bring back life into the still body. It didn’t. The agony of loss cleaved through her body like it was being drained of all energy. Rocking back and forth, her tears flowed down her cheeks as gut wrenching cries left her throat leaving raw. This couldn’t be possible, her strength, her world had gone.

Now, do stop that crying dear. You’ll need to find out who killed me.

Who had spoken? It was Gwen’s voice but her lifeless form lay still in Annabel’s arms. Annabel brushed the hair of the wig back from her aunt’s face. People were gawking at her, she didn’t care, but she didn’t want anyone to see Gwen like this. She wanted them gone.

Annabel’s breath left her mouth and misted as if she were outside. It was midwinter in Bath and you would expect it out there, but not in here.

A blast of cold air blew across the back of her neck causing her body to shiver and brought goose bumps up on her arms. Annabel took a deep breath and turned towards where the cool air came from.

Another scream left her lungs as she saw Gwen standing next to her. Only this Gwen was translucent. No one else screamed.

Someone pushed me darling. There seems to be a knife in my back. I really do look a mess don’t I, and I went to so much effort this evening.

The ghost spoke, but her lips didn’t move. Annabel shook her head. The ghost was still there. Her hands shook, but she had to see if what the apparition was saying was true. She turned Gwen towards her and a