Murder Is In the Eye of the Beholder (Piper Ashwell Psychic P.I. Book 14)

By Kelly Hashway

Honeymoons are supposed to about love and spending quality time together, but don’t tell that to psychic P.I. Piper Ashwell. When she doesn’t have her nose in a book, ignoring the fact that she and her new husband, Mitchell Brennan, are literally in paradise, she’s busy sensing something is off about the resort.

Piper is convinced someone was murdered on the beach in the exact lounge chair she’s been occupying for the past day and a half. The problem is there’s no evidence of foul play—only Piper’s muddled visions. But with a killer on the loose, Piper can’t afford to dismiss any feelings.

Can she find the body, catch the killer, and enjoy her honeymoon before the week is over?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Kelly Hashway
• Release date: Jan 4, 2022
• ISBN: 9781005471392

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’m almost finished with the third book I brought on this trip when Mitchell steps out of the water and walks up to my beach chair.

Piper Rose Ashwell, you cannot sit there and read books the entire time we’re here. He shakes his head, water spraying off his hair and onto me. Come swimming with me. This is supposed to be our honeymoon. I’d like to spend some time with my wife.

My body tenses at the use of the word wife. Yes, I’m aware I married Detective Mitchell Brennan, making him my partner in my personal life as well as at work, but I’m very new to relationships considering this is my first real relationship in my entire life. Not that you can blame me. Being a gifted psychometrist means I can read the energy off just about anything I come into contact with. At least when I touch it with my right hand. I still have no idea why it has to be my right hand, but I’ve been this way since my psychic abilities first emerged when I was twelve-years-old and my father, Detective Thomas Ashwell, was working a very high-profile case. I love Mitchell. I do, even though we had a very rocky start seeing as how he was a serial dater, and being around him made me privy to his many encounters with random women. We’re both very different people now, though. That first case we worked together seems like eons ago. I actually talk to people now. Like voluntarily, not only when I have to. That’s because of Mitchell’s influence on me. I guess you could say we’re good for each other.

Mitchell waves a hand in front of my face. Earth to Piper. Are you even listening to me?

I close the book and put it in my beach bag beside the lounge chair. Before we left for this trip, Marcia—my one and only real friend other than Mitchell—reminded me that I’m supposed to relax and enjoy time with my new husband. In other words, I can’t ignore him the way I usually do each evening when he comes to my apartment, which is our apartment now. He moved in with me the day after the wedding. It hasn’t even been a week yet, but already everything seems so different. Am I supposed to consider Mitchell in every decision I make from now on? Does that mean I’m no longer just Piper, but half of Piper and Mitchell? And what about my P.I. Agency? Is it half his now? Or a third Mitchell’s since my dad works with me now that he’s retired from the Weltunkin Police Department? Just thinking about all this makes my breathing get heavy.

Mitchell sits down on the lounge chair beside me and takes my left hand in his. Piper, breathe. He mimics the slow, deep breaths he wants me to take. He’s so patient with me. I know I don’t deserve him, not that I’d ever tell him that. His ego is way too large as it is. What’s got you so worked up? He smirks. Is it the sight of me in a bathing suit?

I laugh. You’re so full of yourself. Truth be told, I’ve seen several women eyeing him up since we got here. He’s gorgeous. The problem is he knows he’s gorgeous. He’s also really good at distracting me with humor when I get lost inside my own thoughts.

He raises my hand and kisses the back of it. Come on. Go for a swim with me. You don’t even need a snorkel mask to see all the fish. They come right up and touch you. He smiles. It kind of tickles.

You do realize that is the worst argument to make to someone who doesn’t like to be touched. I shiver at the thought of reading tiny fish brains, not to mention they see tons of rear ends in the water all day long. That’s not something I want to be privy to.

Mitchell lets go of my hand. Okay, what do you want to do then? I feel like you haven’t moved from this chair in hours.

My eyes flit to my bag where the book I’m dying to finish is laying on the very top in full view.

Mitchell sighs. Go ahead and read. He lies down on the lounge chair beside me.

Remembering what Marcia told me, I say, I don’t have to. We could… I look around, trying to come up with anything I’d want to do that Mitchell might actually like. I wonder if the beach bar serves iced coffee.

Are you thirsty? Mitchell asks, following my gaze.

A little.

Great. He pops up off the lounge chair and offers me his hand. Let’s go.

He’s so eager to do things together. I can’t bring myself to tell him that his emotions are overwhelming my senses. My grandma Maywood, the one I inherited my psychic abilities from, was an empath. My empathic abilities aren’t as strong as hers were—something I’m really grateful for since she had to shut herself off from everyone, including the people she loved—but I’m still affected by people’s emotions if I get too close to them, either in person or through my visions.

Piper, are you okay? Mitchell asks.

I haven’t moved, and he finally drops his arm to his side. I don’t want to tell him what’s really going on. He’s been so happy ever since we got married, which is why I didn’t complain when he told me the few days we’d be vacationing are actually seven days, which is a far cry from a few if you ask me.

He sits down again, fidgeting with his hands in his lap. Do you want to go home? Is this all too much?

No and yes but no.

He lets out a sound that’s a mix of a laugh and a sigh. I have no idea what to make of that.

I frown. He knows me better than anyone else does. He’s even gotten better at understanding me than my father is, and that’s saying something.

Okay, let me give it a try. No, you don’t want to leave. Yes, this is all overwhelming you, but you want to try to handle it? His brow furrows as he stares at me, waiting for confirmation.

You get a gold star for Piper interpretation.

One side of his mouth curves up. How about we get drinks, and then you finish your book while I nap on the lounge chair? Would that work for you?

If that drink is iced coffee, it sounds like heaven.

I’m pretty sure the beach bar has coffee, but if not, I’ll hunt some down for you.

I’m sorry I’m ruining your vacation, I say, avoiding his gaze.

He takes both my hands and pulls me to my feet. It takes all my strength not to read him right now. I promised I’d never read him against his will again, but sometimes it’s harder not to read someone than it is to read them. That’s usually the case with Mitchell because he tends to project his emotions and thoughts onto me without being consciously aware of it.

I try to pull my right hand free, but he shakes his head.

I did that on purpose. We both know you won’t believe me unless you see for yourself, so go ahead. Read me. See that I’m having a great time.

I don’t want to read you, Mitchell. I yank my hand from his. It’s not fair. You can’t get inside my head, so why should I be allowed inside yours?

You can’t possibly believe that’s true. He cocks his head to the side. Right now, you’re worried that we’re only doing what you want to do and that I’m regretting saying I do and committing myself to a lifetime with you and your quirks.

Hearing him say my exact thoughts aloud brings tears to my eyes.

He leans forward and presses his lips to mine. I love you. I don’t know how many ways I can say that or show you that before you believe it. I wouldn’t change a single thing about you. I just hope that one of these days, you’ll come to realize that for yourself.

But I can’t even swim with you. What kind of wife am I? I lower my head, but he uses his index finger to tip it back up so we’re eye-to-eye.

The perfect one for me. I planned this honeymoon, and now that I think about it, it wasn’t fair of me to do that. We should have chosen a location together so it was something we’d both enjoy. I’m sorry.

He took care of everything for our wedding too, but that was because he knew I couldn’t handle it. He’s always trying to make my life easier.

How about drinks and a dip in the pool where there are no fish? I ask.

He smiles. I’d love that. He holds my left hand as we walk to the beach bar.

There are always two bartenders on staff at all times because one mans the bar while the other delivers drinks to the guests on the beach. The resort is small, so there aren’t a ton of people staying here. The island itself is pretty much just beaches. There’s not much of a nightlife or anything to do other than swim, so it doesn’t get the tourist activity some other Caribbean islands see. I’m sure that was another reason why Mitchell chose it. Fewer people for me to have to interact with.

The bartender finishes pouring a mixed drink and places it on a tray before addressing us. What can I get for you both?

Mitchell gestures for me to go first.

Do you have iced coffee? I ask.

We do. Cream and sugar?

No, black please.

He bobs his head and turns to Mitchell.

Make that two, Mitchell says.

The bartender taps the bar top. Coming right up.

Once we have our drinks, Mitchell gives the bartender our room number so he can charge our running tab. Then we take the drinks to the pool area. There’s a gate around the pool, but we only have to punch our room number into the keypad to gain access.

The pool has three sections. The first is a large circle with a covered seating area in the center. The openings act as waterfalls, making it impossible to enter the space without getting soaked. This section of the pool juts out to a wider space where most people are at the moment. It’s also the deepest part of the pool. And on the far side is a rectangular section that’s perfect for swimming laps.

Mitchell eyes all three sections before handing me his iced coffee. Hold this, please.

I take it, but I can’t figure out why he’d need me to hold it. Then he scoops me up and carries me into the water. Mitchell, what are you doing? Put me down.

No way. You’d never agree to this on your own.

As soon as he says it, I know what his plan is. No. Do not carry me under that waterfall.

I’m sorry, but I can’t hear you, he says over the sound of the waterfall just a few feet ahead of us.

Mitchell, don’t you dare. I barely get the words out before he pulls me under. It only lasts for a second, and then we’re inside the structure. Everything echoes. The sound is so much louder in my head. I place both coffees on the bench and press my hands to my ears.

Mitchell looks around. I didn’t know it would be so loud in here.

I love repetitive sounds, like dripping water, but the volume in here is too much for me. Mitchell pushes me back out and grabs our drinks. We make our way out of the pool altogether.

Piper, I’m sorry.

It’s okay. It’s not your fault.

Yes, it is. It was a stupid idea. I thought it would be nice inside there since we’d be alone, and I know you like the sound of running water.

I step out of the pool and turn to him. I do.

He smirks. We already got married. You don’t have to keep saying I do.

Do I look like a drowned rat? I ask, reaching up to touch my soaking wet hair.

I think you look beautiful, but why don’t we lie out in the sun and dry off?

As soon as I’m back at my chair, I grab the blanket I had spread out on top of the lounge and dry my hands. I don’t want to get my book wet. Instead of putting the towel back down on the lounge chair, I fold it up and place it under my head as a makeshift pillow.

Mitchell places my drink on the table beside me, but I grab it and down the entire thing without coming up for air, which makes him laugh. He lies back on his own chair and closes his eyes.

I start reading, but I can’t get into the story again because I have this overwhelming feeling that I’m being watched. I discreetly look around for anyone peering in my direction. No one in the water is looking this way. The couple walking down the beach along the water line has their backs to me. That leaves the bar. Both bartenders are there, but they’re having a conversation with another resort employee.

I try to shake off the feeling and return my attention to my book. I make it about two paragraphs before the sensation of eyes on me makes me slam the book closed.

Mitchell jumps up beside me. What was that? A gunshot? He looks around, realizing where we are. He must have been dreaming.

Sorry. That was my book.

He turns in his chair to face me. Did you not like the ending or something?

No, I didn’t finish it yet.

Mitchell looks at his watch, and I know he’s thinking it’s odd that I didn’t finish the few pages I had left in the time since he fell asleep.

I had this feeling that someone was watching me.

That gets Mitchell’s attention, and he sits up straight, his gaze spanning the surrounding areas.

Unlike some of the women here, I’m not dressed in a thong bikini. My bathing suit is a modest one-piece. When I put it on this morning in our room, I could tell Mitchell was relieved I wasn’t wearing a revealing swimsuit. He doesn’t like it when other men look at me, and that’s fine with me because I don’t like it either.

I already checked. No one is paying any attention to us, I tell him. Yet I can’t seem to shake this feeling.

He tilts the book I’m reading to check out the title. Is it the book? You’re always reading murder mysteries. Maybe they’re starting to get to you.

Doubtful. My job is way scarier than any book I’ve read. I deal with murderers in real life. You can’t top that. The main character already caught the killer. It’s not the book.

Mitchell gives me a sympathetic smile. Maybe your brain is having a hard time relaxing. You’re used to running around catching bad guys with me.

I nod, even though I’m not convinced that’s what this is. I try to read again, but the feeling won’t go away, and the sun is starting to burn the tops of my feet, which aren’t being shaded by the beach umbrella. Mitchell, can you turn the umbrella. The sun is hitting my feet now. I’m not the type to ask others to do things for me, but I also try not to touch things a lot of people have come into contact with.

Well, we can’t have a tan Piper, now can we? Mitchell jokes, standing up to adjust the umbrella.

I don’t tan. I burn. I doubt you want to walk around with me looking like a lobster for the next week.

No matter which way Mitchell adjusts the umbrella, part of my lounge chair is in the sun. I think you’re going to have to switch seats with me, he says.

You know I can’t do that. I like to keep Mitchell on my left side so I don’t accidentally read him if he touches my hand.

It will be fine, Piper. I won’t try to hold your hand.

I give in and switch chairs with him.

Better? he asks.

And instantly