Let the Vision Out of the Body Bag (Piper Ashwell Psychic P.I. #18)

By Kelly Hashway

Psychic P.I. Piper Ashwell has never hesitated to tell Detective Mitchell Brennan he’s wrong about a murder case, and that hasn’t changed since she became his wife.
When Mitchell tells Piper about the recent arrest he made, she’s quick to tell him he’s got the wrong guy. Her senses are screaming that the real killer is still out there.
As soon as they start digging, the suspects pile up. Any number of people could have killed this single mother, and this case has a twist even Piper can’t see coming.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Kelly Hashway
• Release date: Jan 3, 2023
• ISBN: 9781005781132

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 carry the new mystery novel to the register at Marcia’s Nook. Since it’s almost closing time, Marcia is the only one working. If you ask me, she works way too hard. She runs this place on her own with only one real employee, Jax, who is a nice enough kid. My partner—and now my husband—Mitchell Brennan, tips her insane amounts every time he’s in here because, like me, he thinks Marcia is amazing and totally deserves the extra money.

Hey, Piper. She looks around, presumably for Mitchell. You’re alone today.

I can’t help smiling. I love Mitchell. I really do, but I happen to be a gifted psychometrist, which means I can read the energy off objects and people. Mitchell does his best to not project his feelings on me twenty-four seven, but his emotions can be overwhelming at times. While I’m not a recluse like my grandma Maywood was due to her extreme empath abilities, I do tend to distance myself from people whenever possible.

Uh-oh. What did the good detective do now? Marcia asks, reaching for the book in my hand.

Nothing. He’s been working a case on his own all day. I smile again.

I see. And you’re enjoying the peace and quiet.

Is that wrong? I ask, knowing she’ll give me a straight answer. Marcia might be my coffee and book supplier, but she’s also my closest friend other than Mitchell and my golden retriever, Jezebel. Truthfully, I don’t have many friends to speak of.

No. Everyone likes a little personal time, and since you and Mitchell live and work together most days, I can see why you’d enjoy a little space now and then.

I can’t remember the last time he didn’t bring a case to me. It must be an open and shut investigation that he handled all in one day, I say.

Marcia rings up the book and then turns around to get me an extra-large toasted almond coffee. Should I pour two coffees, or are you not expecting Mitchell back at home any time soon?

I’m not sure actually. He hasn’t checked in since lunchtime.

Marcia caps my coffee and hands it to me. Oh. By the look on her face and the emotions radiating off her, I think I’ve made a mistake somehow.

Should I be worried that he hasn’t called me?

I’m sure it’s fine. Mitchell is more than capable of handling himself. Besides, if anything was wrong, I’m sure the chief would have called you. You’re married now. That’s how it works.

Right.

She cocks her head at me. Can you sense if anything is wrong with him? Do your abilities allow you to do that?

I could read something of Mitchell’s and most likely find out where he is right now. I do it all the time in the cases I work on with him to find victims, kidnappers, and even killers. I might even be able to read my own wedding ring to do that. But should I? I promised not to read Mitchell, so I sort of feel like checking up on him would be just as bad.

She holds up one hand. You’re probably right. And like I said, I’m sure he’s fine. She gestures to the book on the counter. I put that on your tab. The coffee is on me.

Marcia, I complain. I don’t want her giving me free stuff just because we’re friends. She has to make a living.

Your husband tipped me over a hundred percent the other day when he came in for coffee and muffins. Believe me. That cup of coffee is more than paid for.

I laugh. The two of them have this little game of Mitchell slipping her huge tips and Marcia trying to even the score with free food and drinks. It’s comical to watch. I’ll let you two battle this one out.

Smart woman, she says, wiping the counter and then removing her apron. I guess it’s time to call it a day. I’ll walk you to your car if you’re ready.

Sure.

She walks around the counter to meet me. I remember when we first met. You did everything on your own or with your dad. I never thought I’d be able to break through that wall you put up when people come near you. But look at us now.

She’s not wrong. I like Marcia. She’s the most honest person I know. She tells it like it is but has a heart of gold at the same time. How’s Erik, the software developer you were seeing?

She locks the door to Marcia’s Nook and avoids my eyes. Oh, you know how those things go.

What happened? I read his energy off a note he left for her a little while back, and he really seemed to like her.

I don’t have time to date.

You should make time. You deserve to have some fun.

She huffs.

Marcia, promise me you’ll try.

I don’t know, Piper. It’s not easy to—

Look at me. I stop walking and turn to face her. You just said how far I’ve come. I’m used to keeping everyone out. I’ve done it my entire life. Yet here I am now, married and with a best friend, whom I really want to be happy. If I can do that, you can find time to do something for yourself.

She smiles and bobs her head. Well, when you put it like that, I guess I have no choice. I’ll call him when I get home and set something up.

Good. I can’t wait to hear all about it.

She gives me a small wave before getting into her car. I walk to my Mazda and open the door. I don’t drive myself very often, and especially not when I’m working a case, but right now I’m not zeroing in on a kidnapping victim or anything like that, so I feel confident I won’t accidentally have a psychic vision while behind the wheel.

I’m pulling into the parking lot in front of my apartment complex when my phone rings. I cut the engine and grab the phone without looking at the screen. Hi, Dad. Yes, I made it home safely. I roll my eyes. I might be twenty-nine, but my parents still check up on me if Mitchell isn’t around.

Good to hear, but that’s not why I’m calling, Dad says.

I swear the people around me forget I’m psychic. I can feel his lie through the phone. Letting it slide, I say, What’s up, Dad? I get out of the car and walk into the building, stopping to get the mail in the lobby before I take the elevator to the third floor.

I wanted to let you know I’m taking your mother to breakfast tomorrow morning, so I’ll be a little late getting to the office.

Sounds nice. Have fun.

We will. Have you heard from Mitchell?

No, not yet. I step out of the elevator and walk down the hall to my apartment. As soon as I open the door, Jezebel comes to greet me with a tail wag and a big lick up my face when I bend down to her.

Jez, I say, though I’ve gotten used to her greetings.

I’ll let you go feed Jezebel.

Tell Mom thanks for bringing her home for me. My mom watches Jezebel during the day while I work. She and Dad have a dog named Max, who was a total terror until Jez came along and trained him. The arrangement really works out best for everyone involved.

Will do. See you tomorrow, pumpkin.

Good night, Dad. I hang up and walk over to Jezebel’s food and water bowls to get her dinner ready. As much as Jezebel loves me, she adores Mitchell. She always has. And since Mitchell and I didn’t come home together, Jez keeps eyeing the front door. He’ll be home soon, I tell her even though I really don’t know if that’s true. Maybe I should try to get a read on him. I quickly dismiss the idea. I’m not one of those wives. But then again, maybe Mitchell is testing me because I’m not a typical wife. Relationships aren’t my thing. I never really had one before Mitchell. Not that he did either. He was a serial dater before me. It’s not something he likes to talk about or is proud of. We’ve both changed a lot since we met.

I order Chinese food, getting Mitchell’s favorite dish as well since he’ll be hungry when he does finally come home. Then Jezebel and I curl up on the living room couch. She falls asleep with her head on my leg, and I crack open the book I bought at Marcia’s Nook.

Two hours pass before I hear a key in the door lock. Jez hears it, too, and jumps down from the couch to greet him. Her tail is wagging so hard I’m afraid she’ll fall over. Mitchell immediately bends down to greet her.

How’s my girl? he asks her.

I sit up, placing my book on the coffee table. Long day, huh?

Mitchell stands up. You know you should take notes from Jez. She greeted me at the door with kisses.

I roll my eyes. You must have called her and told her you would be late. She clearly knew when to expect you. Do I sound like a nagging wife?

Mitchell bobs his head. Okay, I guess I deserve that. He walks over and leans down to kiss my forehead. I’m sorry I didn’t call.

I shrug. It’s not a big deal. I knew you were working, but everyone kept asking about you, and I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to be upset I hadn’t heard from you.

He smiles and sits down beside me. Since when do you allow other people to tell you how to feel?

I don’t think I was. I think I was feeling their concern.

So they were projecting their feelings onto you. He nods in understanding. Then you weren’t worried about me?

I can’t say I wasn’t a little worried. The last time Mitchell didn’t call me, he was abducted and I foresaw his death. Or at least that’s what I thought at the time. That memory stays with me, maybe because that was when I realized I was in love with him.

I know what you’re thinking. He takes my left hand in his. He’s always careful not to touch my right hand since that’s the hand I read objects and people with. I’ve never known why that hand in particular is the trigger for my psychic visions. It’s just how it’s always been for me. Ever since I was twelve and my abilities first surfaced during a high-profile case my dad was working at the time.

What am I thinking? I ask against my better judgement since I know whatever is about to come out of Mitchell’s mouth will be completely off the mark and most likely gag worthy.

That you can’t bear to go that long without seeing my handsome face. He flashes me a smile.

Truth be told, the man is gorgeous. The problem is he’s well aware of that fact. I roll my eyes again. It’s a wonder I don’t have permanent eye strain from rolling my eyes at Mitchell all the time.

He laughs. Well, I missed your face.

Jez gives a small bark.

Mitchell raises a finger to his lips. You know the rules, Jez. You aren’t even supposed to live here, so no barking.

Our landlord, Theodore Hall, is an old friend of Dad’s, so he looks the other way where Jezebel is concerned. To get around the no pets rule in the building, Mr. Hall told the other residents that Jezebel is a police dog. She’s so good no one has ever complained about her, so it all works out.

Mitchell cups Jezebel’s face. And I missed your face as well. The comment earns him a lick on the nose. That’s like five kisses from Jez and not a single one from my wife yet.

That’s because you’re keeping me busy with all the eye rolling. I don’t have time to kiss you hello.

He laughs. I’m going to take a quick shower. He starts to get up, but I grab his hand. He turns to me, and I finally kiss him.

Hello, I say.

Nicely played, Piper. He smiles as he heads to the shower.

I read another two chapters in my book before Mitchell returns to the couch, smelling really clean. I scoot over so he can get comfortable at the end of the couch, and I can lie back with my head on his chest. This is our nightly routine, but instead of picking up my book again, I say, Tell me about the case you worked today.

Even though he doesn’t voice it, I can feel his happiness that I’m not ignoring him for my book. The victim was a twenty-eight-year-old single mother. It’s sad. She died in her kitchen right in front of her two-year-old.

That’s awful, I say. How did she die? I’m hoping this woman wasn’t stabbed or shot in front of her baby.

Poison in her breakfast smoothie. Apparently, she was a health nut.

I’m glad I stick to coffee and pastries then, I say.

Well, at least the case was an easy one to solve.

You already closed it? I ask.

Made the arrest this evening. The guy isn’t talking at all, but he clearly did it.

Who? I ask.

The victim’s ex-husband.

Wrong.

I don’t know why, but sometimes, my senses chime in with the truth, and right now, they’re telling me Mitchell hasn’t closed this case. Sorry, Mitchell, but my senses say you have the wrong guy.

He stiffens, and I sit up so I can face him. He never questions my abilities. His own mother happened to be psychic, so he completely trusts me when it comes to what I tap into psychically. But he’s clearly battling with whatever evidence he found that contradicts my senses at the moment.

When you mentioned the ex, my senses immediately said you were wrong. I’m sorry.

He runs a hand through his hair, and I realize what the problem is.

You wanted to solve a case without me.

Piper, it’s not like that.

Yes, it is. You’re afraid you’ve become so reliant on my abilities, and you wanted to prove you could do this on your own.

He exhales long and hard. Maybe a little.

I can stay out of it if you want me to.

He takes my hand in his. We’re partners. Just do me a favor, and try to get your senses to confirm that Ian Long didn’t murder his ex-wife.

I have misinterpreted my senses in the past, so I humor him. Play the game. The game is something we do often. I go into a meditative state, and Mitchell asks me questions, starting with mundane things I know the answers to. Then he throws in questions about the case, and we usually get something to go on. I close my eyes.

What did you eat for dinner?

Chinese food.

When’s my birthday?

January fourth.

What’s your mom’s name?

Bonnie.

"Did Ian Long poison Teresa Long?’

No.

I open my eyes. Sorry, Mitchell, but you arrested the wrong guy.

Chapter Two

Mitchell tossed and turned all night, so neither one of us slept well. I know he’s upset about arresting Ian Long when he wasn’t the one who killed his ex-wife. I’m pretty sure it was Mitchell’s desire to prove his own abilities, separate from mine, that made him jump to conclusions so quickly. We didn’t talk about the case anymore after playing the game last night.