Murder, Scrambled: A (Ghostly) Paranormal Cozy Mystery: Evangeline Moon Reporting, #2

By K.J. Emrick and S.J. Wells

When television reporter Evangeline Moon discovers the body of a man in her open front doorway early one morning, she is shocked and horrified.


In a bizarre turn of events she finds the man is someone she just met that weekend at a conference in another city, and with whom she had felt an instant attraction.

Ignoring her discomfort, a quick search of his body reveals a cryptic note clutched in his hand that raises more questions than it answers.

As Evangeline struggles to come to terms with the loss of the man she barely knew, she is determined to find out what happened to the man and takes it upon herself to investigate his death.

As she delves deeper into the case, she uncovers evidence that suggests the man's death may not have been a random act of violence.

Can Evangeline solve the case and bring the killer to justice, or will her curiosity lead her straight to danger? Find out in this gripping and suspenseful cozy mystery.

• Language: English
• Publisher: South Coast Publishing
• Release date: Apr 12, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215579183

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

As the miles unfolded behind them, Evangeline Moon rested her head against the window on the passenger side of the car. The leaves on the maple and birch trees out there were only just starting to change colors in the later days of September. That was one of the things she loved the most about moving out here to New England. There was forest land absolutely everywhere, trees and living things, even along the highways. What had been bright green foliage just a few weeks ago was now mixed with yellows and reds with the turning of the seasons.

It was all so pretty, and the sun was high in the deep blue sky, and she wished that she was driving herself to this symposium conference in the nearby city of Waterburgh. That way she could at least take her time and enjoy the scenery, instead of letting it whip by at highway speeds.

No, scratch that. It wasn’t that she wished she was driving to the symposium. Actually, she just wished she wasn’t going to this conference at all.

This was going to be two days of proverbial hell, listening to people giving lectures on things like the Importance of Economic Markers in an Era of Constrictive Markets. Even the title had started to put her to sleep! Three different times now, she had started to read through the talking points for the New England Conference on Economic Gap Growth—or C-EGG, as it was apparently abbreviated—and she still didn’t understand what it was supposed to be about. Money, yes. Investment, yes. Past that, it was a mishmash of numbers and symbols that might have been hieroglyphics for all she knew.

She also didn’t understand why any of it was considered news, either.

This was the downside of working for a small city news station like WPKT, Pocket News in Harding City. One day you were reporting on a murder, the next you were boring people to death with stories about financial downturns in a bubble market, or whatever. She sighed heavily, and tried to find a road sign along the highway that would tell her how much farther it was to their destination. It already felt like this was taking forever.

The person driving them made a sound partway between a snort and a chuckle, obviously directed at her. She rolled her eyes. If there was one thing Jack Darling was good at, it was being condescending.

You still don’t get it, do you?

Jack’s question had to be directed at her—she was the only other person in the car. No sense trying to ignore him—she was a captive audience. Brushing a hand back through her dyed-auburn hair, she turned to face him with a pointed look.

What is it that I don’t get, Jack?

You don’t see how important this conference is. This time it wasn’t a question. It was a blunt accusation. You’re a reporter, Evangeline. You have to learn to look past the obvious, and see what’s going on behind the curtain. You need to get to the root of a story. Follow it all the way down, and back up again.

Oh, really. Is that how reporting works? Thanks for the advice. So what is it that I’m missing at a conference about finances and the economy? It’s about money, Jack. People are already worried about money. How is that news?

That’s exactly what I mean, he said, voice thick with snark. You can’t find the roots.

That’s why I’m a reporter, not a farmer.

He made that noise again, adding a stern shake of his head. The art of financial influence is utilized like a surgical tool by businesses and governments alike to keep the average citizen from gaining too much power. Those with the money decide how it gets used, and those without the money either learn to tread water or they drown. That’s what we’re going to report on. That’s why it impacts our viewers. New economic practices, new theories of financial practices, all of it could have far-reaching consequences for the little people.

She felt her mouth drop open in the face of his blatant display of mansplaining. By ‘little people’ Eva had the distinct impression that Jack meant everyone except himself. What he was saying made sense—not the financial stuff, but the rest of it—and she did not need him to tell her how to be a reporter! She knew how to work a story. She had years of experience in newspaper work and now that she had finally—gloriously—transitioned to television she was making a name for herself. She was the one who broke the murder story in Verdant Falls two months ago. Jack knew that was true, and he was insanely jealous. He was an old-school talking head, a pretty face who was used to having all the attention. The idea that somebody like her, a young, determined woman, had gotten the scoop on him even once burned his butt.

Hmm. She could get mad about it…or she could give him some of his own medicine.

Making her voice sugary sweet, she said, You know, Jack. That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.

Those piercing blue eyes of his blinked, hard, and he whipped his head toward her so fast that his curly hair bobbed like blonde waves on the ocean. Even when he was being a total jerk he had the perfect face for the news, she reflected, with that perfect chin and expressive mouth. It annoyed Eva to no end that she had to work at putting on her makeup every morning, styling the unruly shoulder-length mass of her hair, spending way too much time matching outfits like this green pantsuit against her deeply tanned skin. Her family was descended from a very specific region of England where ‘pasty white’ was everyone’s natural color. The camera would make her look like a ghost if she didn’t worship the sun whenever she found the time.

Still confused, he grumped at her, What do you think I said to you that was so nice?

She favored him with her best on-air smile. You just called me a reporter instead of listing off all the reasons why you think I won’t ever make it in the business, like you usually do. That was so nice of you.

What…I said…no I did not!

She had to force herself not to laugh in his perfect face. Sure you did! Why, I think I’m growing on you.

He flushed a deep red right down to his open collar, and she saw a vein start to throb up by his temple. He had nothing more to say on the subject, apparently—or maybe he had a lot to say, but none of it fit for mixed company!

The rest of the trip was spent in blessed, near-total silence. It was just as well. Evangeline—Eva to her friends, which Jack definitely was not—preferred the quiet. It gave her time to concentrate on the questions she was going to ask at the symposium. Each speaker had time devoted to a Q-and-A session after their presentation. A little research had given her enough to make a tidy little list. Not that Jack was likely to give her the chance to ask anything at all, but she liked to be prepared in any event.

In truth, she would have much rather stayed in Harding City to cover the other news story of the week: the rededication of the historic Sandstone River Bridge. Sure, it was another of what she liked to call cat stuck in a tree stories, those piddling little puff pieces that no one really cared about or even remembered a day or two later. She wanted to do the important stories, the ones that really mattered…but as the car ride dragged on and she started to doze, she decided a cat in a tree would be better than this! It was late though—early evening—and she was just too tired to think about things like that. Closing her eyes, she let herself drift.

She woke up when Jack abruptly stopped the car, hitting the brakes much harder than he needed to as he pulled into a parking space.

Oh look, he said. We’re here.

His voice was downright cheerful. He’d gotten actual enjoyment from making her forehead bounce off the window.

Owwww, she complained, rubbing her palm over the injured spot. She imagined she could feel a bruise starting. You did that on purpose, didn’t you?

No comment, he said, in his best seasoned-reporter voice.

He got out to check them into their rooms at the Kingsway Hotel and Suites. Separate rooms, thank God. When his back was turned she stuck her tongue out at him. A little boy walking hand-in-hand with his mother down the sidewalk saw her do it. He laughed at the funny face she made, and she stuck her tongue out at him, too, crossing her eyes this time.

The boy tried to imitate her, lost his balance, and stumbled. His mother was there to balance him though, and they kept going, laughing and enjoying their day. The boy gave Eva a wave over his shoulder, and she waved back. The whole thing brought a smile to her face. Maybe this wouldn’t be such a bad trip, after all.

Jack yanked the driver’s door open and leaned his head in. Come on, Evangeline. I’ve got our rooms.

And slam the door went again.

Oh right, she reminded herself. She was here with Jack. That sucked the fun right out of her day all over again.

Well, at least it’s just for two days, she told herself as she stepped off the elevator on the third floor. She had her key, and she would get to spend a few hours by herself now to relax and just do whatever. That wasn’t too bad. Halfway down the hall, on the left, she found room 304 and fumbled with her suitcase and bag in one hand, the room key in the other.

The conference was slated for all day tomorrow—Saturday—and then she and Jack would go back home Sunday morning after a second night here. Maybe, if she was lucky, she could convince Jack to just leave right after the last speaker was done. That would get them back late Saturday, but it would put an end to this weekend that much faster. Maybe if she asked nicely? Or paid him. Not that she carried much cash in her wallet anymore. Almost nobody did these days. She’d have to Venmo him some cash, but it would so be worth it…

With a shove, the door opened for her at last.

Finally in the room, she dropped her suitcase on the floor and flopped onto the queen-sized bed, arms outstretched, eyes closed, letting the stress from the ride just slough away. There was a crick in her neck that was just begging for a good massage. Maybe she would just take a nap now, grab some dinner later, and then climb back under the covers. Being at the symposium all day tomorrow was going to be tiring enough as it was. They had come all this way to the city of Waterburgh, after all. There had to be at least a couple of places where she could get a good meal…

Um. Excuse me?

A man’s voice, speaking to her from inside the room, startled Eva. She jerked up, sitting on the edge of the bed, a sudden fight-or-flight argument taking place in her brain. Her whole body was leaning toward flight, but her hands curled into fists as if she was going to have to box someone for her honor. A right hook, a left uppercut, and then…wait, who was she kidding?

Wide-eyed, she scanned the room until her gaze fell on the open door of the bathroom, and the man standing there…in nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist.

He was tall, easily over six feet, with the sturdy kind of body men got when they worked out on a regular basis. In fact, she was pretty sure there wasn’t an ounce of fat on him, and it wasn’t like that towel was hiding much! His beard and short black hair were wet, slicked straight back against his head, and along with the water beads dripping off his skin it was obvious that he had just got out of the shower. His lips were tilted in an amused grin.

His pale brown eyes were the color of honey, and they were studying her intently.

For a moment the two of them just stared at each other. For someone who made her living talking on television, Eva was surprised to find herself suddenly at a complete loss for words. There was a man in her hotel room.

A naked man!

Well, this is getting awkward, he finally said, breaking the silence. Let me introduce myself. My name is Mark Everdine—

He put out his hand for her to shake, letting go of the towel as he did.

Eva jumped off the bed, waving her hands in front of her face. Woah, woah, woah, there…uh, whoever you are. Two hands on that towel at all times, please!

Hmm? Oh. Heh, yes I suppose you have a point there. Putting the hand back on the white terrycloth where it had started to slide down one hip, he cinched the knot a little tighter. Listen, I didn’t mean to startle you, but you kind of surprised me, too. I wasn’t expecting company.

Now that she’d found her voice again, Eva stood her ground and faced the man, folding her arms over her chest. Why would you expect to have a guest? This is my room, after all. Maybe you should find your own room, and…and see if you have ‘company’ waiting for you there!

One of his eyebrows swept up. His smile turned into a frown, in an unexpectedly cute way. Well, that would be the problem right there, I suppose. See, this is actually my room.

With a nod of his head—so he could keep his hands where they were—he indicated the corner of the room, over by where the television sat atop a set of drawers. Eva hadn’t taken the time to look around before throwing herself on the bed, but now she saw a second set of luggage was sitting over there. A man’s big gold watch and a wallet had been tossed next to the TV. An open takeout container next to those items had a half-eaten sandwich and leftover fries still inside. Whoever this Mark Everdine character was, one thing was for sure. He really had been in the room before her.

I don’t understand, she said, more to herself than to him. She swiped her plastic key card up from the bed where she’d dropped it and turned it to so he could see the number printed on it. See? Room 304. That’s here. This room. Right where we’re standing.

He shrugged. I’ve got one of those, too. Just, you know, not on me at the moment.

Reflexively, Eva’s eyes dropped down to the towel before she snapped them up to his face again. Of course he didn’t have it on him now!

Hmm, he said conversationally, as if he wasn’t at all aware that she was flustered. This is a puzzle. Well look, it must be some kind of mistake. The hotel must have checked us both into the same room. Easy fix. We just go down to the front desk and ask them to double check our reservations. One of us will move. No harm, no foul. Um. Waving a hand at his still-dripping body, he frowned. "Maybe you should go first. I’ll