Murder Without a Hitch: A Rose Lake Paranormal Cozy Mystery, #3

By K.J. Emrick and Ellie Emcee

Past trauma meets the present...

 

When someone from Valeria Cosoi's past sends her a package in the mail, she is tempted to just send it right back.

 

But when she sees the very personal contents inside, her world is tipped upside down, as she realizes what she has believed about the past isn't really true.

 

Valeria reluctantly sets out to uncover the truth, only to quickly meet resistance.

 

A threat is made, one that has been carried out before...

 

Can Valeria unravel the mystery before she becomes a victim herself?

• Language: English
• Publisher: South Coast Publishing
• Release date: Nov 24, 2022
• ISBN: 9798215531136

Book preview

Chapter 1

The lilting brass-band music floated through the house as one of Uncle Pop’s favorite records spun away on Valeria’s record player. He always loved when she played it for guests. He had even learned to play along with every song on his trombone, but what with him being a ghost, company never got to enjoy his own performances. He always insisted that this was just like the music that he used to make. Valeria didn’t mind. It always cheered Uncle Pop up, and she had grown quite fond of the record herself. It was full of bright, jazzy songs that better matched her mood of late.

Mister Mo let out a low rumble as he turned over on his back, stretching his paws out in every direction. Valeria watched him with a small smile. He was hanging out in the room, which showed a growing willingness to tolerate her guest’s presence. Art was over for tea this morning and Mister Mo did not take his eyes off him for even a second. The thick, tapering line of darker fur above his lip that looked for all the world like a moustache twitched as he considered this new addition to their home. If Art tried to pull anything, Mister Mo would be ready to attack — or, much more likely, flee to safety. She reached across the table and topped off Art’s teacup while he chuckled his way through his latest tale.

"So then it turned out the new kid had gotten his codes completely mixed up. He meant to be reporting a 10-97 but instead he kept hollering ‘10-98! 10-98!’ Into the radio. A jail break instead of a radio test! Art laughed, wiping a tear with one eye. Talk about a way to get everyone on high alert! His nickname was Prison Break for the rest of the time he was with us!"

Valeria was only half listening to his words. She liked seeing him laugh. He did it more lately, she felt like. Did they both laugh more, now? Once or twice a week he would come by in the morning, on days that he had a mid-morning shift instead of his usual 6 AM start. He always claimed it was because he didn’t have a proper kettle and Valeria had all the best tea. Valeria was just pleased he could find an excuse to come by that often.

Eh, sorry, he said, his laugh faltering. Was that joke too job-specific?

Oh, no. Valeria shook her head at herself, getting caught up like that. I was just distracted. It was quite good.

Art looked over his shoulder, slowly, as if he was expecting to see someone behind him. Is it — is it a spirit? His tone was light, but not mocking. Valeria felt he was trying to give her a reason for her lack of response.

You know, I appreciate you don’t treat it like some insane thing, Valeria said, sipping her tea. That really does mean quite a bit.

Well, Art shrugged, turning back, anyone who’s willing to put up with me rattling off police codes like they’re common knowledge, deserves the benefit of the doubt on a subject she’s an expert on.

Valeria smiled at him, and they were just like that for a moment, two people sipping their tea. She caught his eye and didn’t blush or look away — it was comfortable to be here with him. It seemed normal. Had it become a habit, she wondered? Maybe it had. It gave her a good reason to keep the house up better, at least. She hadn’t been cleaning just for him. May and Yasmin had been coming over a lot more frequently, too. And it felt nice, even if it knocked out a weekend here or there keeping all the odds and ends and antiques free from their stubbornly persistent layers of dust.

Brass ends sparkled in the sunlight pouring through clean windows. She had actually gotten a boy down the street to do those. That had been another nice side effect of Art’s arrival in town. He was an oddity in that he was a well-liked cop (as much as Valeria loved Yasmin, she had a tendency to rub people the wrong way at traffic stops) and it had soon become common knowledge in the neighborhood that he was a frequent visitor to the Cosoi Mansion. Not all the rumors about her being a horrible witch had died down, but at least she wasn’t whispered about as much. Kids love living in a neighborhood with a witch, Valeria had realized. It gave their schoolyard stories more panache, but they were ding-dong ditching her less and didn’t flee immediately on sight.

It was the little things, after all.

A deep gonging noise swelled through the house as the doorbell rang. Valeria set her drink aside, jumping up, and Art stood as well, half-following her to the door and stopping awkwardly part of the way there. Mister Mo darted off in a skittery, nails-on-wood panic, and Valeria knew she was going to have to treat him extra nicely later to make up for the crime of having a doorbell.

Val! May exclaimed as soon as Valeria opened the door. She was obviously nervous, fiddling with her jacket. It was one of her most gaudy, an absolute explosion of color that contrasted heavily against the yellow-browns of the leaves falling behind her. Valeria made a mental note to see if she could get one of the neighborhood kids to rake the lawn.

Good morning, May, Valeria replied with a smile.

May peeked over Valeria’s shoulder, giving a little wave as she saw Art behind her. Yasmin said you’d be home, but said there was no chance I’d be a bother if I stopped by, she explained, the edge of an apology creeping into her voice. She didn’t say you had company.

Valeria rolled her eyes and smiled. Yasmin would almost certainly know, at this point, where Art spent his mornings when he wasn’t at the station. She would have to find some way to get back at her for this clearly orchestrated interruption.

Of course you aren’t a bother! is what she said to May as she pulled the door wide. Come on in.

Oh, good. May bounced past her, stopping just through the doorway to pull a small box out of a huge jacket pocket. By the way, this is for you.

How are things going for you, May? Art asked, and he walked May back to the table, going about getting her set up with her own cup of tea while Valeria inspected the package.

She was surprised to see it looked like mail — she had thought May had gotten her one of her happies, what May called the little gifts she liked to make for her and Yasmin — but it was covered with postmarks and oddly, dried water spots, though it hadn’t rained for a few days. Valeria flipped it over to read the front. It was addressed to her, sure enough, and the sender’s name read Teresa Thompson.

Valeria’s heart missed a few beats. Static filled her ears, and she felt vaguely ill. It was the strangest sensation. As if some hand had reached up her gut and squeezed her heart. But that name…she hadn’t heard from Teresa in so long.

Where’d you get this? Valeria asked May, fighting to keep her voice steady.

Oh, I found it in the bushes by the porch. I figured it must have fallen off after the mail man delivered it.

Ah. Valeria kept staring at it.

May didn’t resume her prattle with Art, but studied her friend for a moment. Are you alright?

Valeria’s head jerked up, and when her eyes met those of her friends, she made sure a smile was locked on her face. Oh, yeah, no worries. I just didn’t realize how late it had gotten! I really should get ready to open the shop.

But you don’t usually — May started, cut off abruptly by a quick elbow from Art. She looked up at him curiously, some message passing between them, and then nodded. Right! Hah, my timing is always absurd, isn’t it? Art, would you like a ride into the station?

Sure, if you’re heading into town, Art agreed.

They made their quick goodbyes and within a minute, Valeria was alone with the box. She was so glad that Art, at least, had taken the hint. The package had her unsettled. She needed to see what was in it, by herself.

She walked back over to the sitting area, falling into one of the armchairs, the box resting in her lap. Teresa’s name stared up at her. The room felt huge and empty and—

Uncle Pop’s trombone announced his arrival. He pulled it away from his face, grinning mischievously. I noticed my tunes stopped playing. Is anyone going to flip the record?

Valeria waved her hand half-heartedly at the player. Feel free, she mumbled.

Uncle Pop made a harumph, and floated closer. Now, you know that I can’t do that. So, what’s got you going? He glanced down at the package. "Teresa Thompson... Say now, wasn’t that his last name?"

Yes, Valeria nodded. David’s mom.

Hmm, yes. The scoundrel who broke your heart. Why would his mother be mailing anything to you?

I don’t know. Valeria looked out the window. I should just return-to-sender, right? ‘No person of this name is at this address.’ Stop her from mailing me again. It’s been ages since we last spoke. I don’t know what she would have to say to me now.

Time heals all wounds, Uncle Pop replied, a ghostly finger raised wisely, and you’ve been much more healed on that front as of late, I would say. Maybe it’s an apology! Or she just wants to invite you to a nice dinner! Or she found the underwear you left at her house when David took you to meet them!

Valeria blushed. I did no such thing!

Uncle Pop shrugged. How would you know if you forgot it there?

She sighed, then grumbled, then grabbed a butter knife from the table and got to work opening the box. It pulled open to reveal cool-toned tissue paper, and under that, a silver wristwatch.

Valeria felt herself jerk in surprise as she saw it. Her vision blurred as her eyes started to pool with tears.

A gift? Uncle Pop asked.

His watch, Valeria replied, picking it up.

Her eyes couldn’t look away from it. It had a solid heft, more than you would expect, but it looked different than she remembered. It was tarnished, blackened in every crevice, and the edges looked warbled, as though they had been melted. It clearly hadn’t been taken care of.

Why would it be? Valeria caught herself thinking. It was an engagement gift from me, after all. One he obviously wasn’t interested in when he lost all interest in me. But why would she send it now? Was this some weird way to twist the knife?

Are you going to read the letter? Uncle Pop asked.

Valeria finally managed to tear her eyes away from the watch, noticing the small envelope folded into the side of the box. She set the watch and box aside, and opened the folded paper.

---

Dear Valeria,

I apologize for writing to you out of the blue like this. I know it must be hard, having memories of David brought up in this way. I do regret not reaching out to you sooner. It must have been so horrible, being alone in the wake of his death, but when you didn’t reach out yourself Harry counseled me that you must be allowed to mourn how you see fit. I didn’t question it at the time, and I apologize if that was not the right approach. We’ve always thought of you fondly.

I get away from myself. Bizarrely, I discovered this watch in an antique shop several weeks ago. I do not think he would have sold it so I am unsure how it ended up there. It was a little blessing, running into something of his! But I remembered that you had gifted it to him and thought you deserved to keep it. I was upset to see it so damaged as David wore it with so much reverence. I wanted to get it restored before I sent it to you, but Harry thought it was best to leave it up to you, whether you wanted it restored or not.

I know none of us will ever truly recover from the events of that day, and the tragedy of that fire. But I hope this watch brings you some small comfort. Please feel free to reach out if you would wish, and you are welcome to visit our home any time. However, I understand if this is all something you would rather leave in the past.

All my love,

Teresa

P.S. If you do decide you would rather not have the watch, would you mind sending it back? We will not be offended either way, I just feel that it should be with someone who loved him.

Reading Teresa’s heartfelt words, Valeria found she was no longer in her house. She was back then, all those years ago. The tense silence of that night. The way David had tossed and turned as she had tried to fall asleep. And then…he was simply gone. Awaking to nothing, to no one, their apartment emptied of everything he had owned. She had tried to find him. Called his work, his friends, everything. But it was as if he had disappeared off the face of the earth.

As if he had died.

He was dead. He had died. She hadn’t known. No one had ever told her about a fire, about David’s death. All this time she’d spent hating him for leaving her but now she had to wonder if she had been too harsh. David, the man who had ruined her emotionally for so long, was dead…

Why would this have happened? Valeria jerked back to the present, to the family home she had returned to, still heartbroken and deeply ashamed by David’s abandonment. After only just having discovered her powers. It was the first time she had seen Uncle Pop after his own passing, or Aunt Imogen. They were waiting there, with open arms that couldn’t hug but explanations that at least helped her make some sense of her powers in the wake of their reveal. And they had shown a real willingness to talk crap about David, which had been very comforting at the time.

Her hand had not stopped gripping the watch, and she noted something now as her fingers rubbed keenly over its silver surface. A weird indentation on the back. She flipped it over and found engraved, just where the band met the reverse face of the watch, Valeria 334c. It was small and certainly hadn’t been there when she had gifted it to him.

The watch looks melted, Uncle Pop said. Halfway to being one of those Dali clocks.

You’re right, Valeria agreed, thankful he was here to ground her in the present. It’s strange, though. If he did die in this fire like his mother said, she couldn’t help but shiver as she said it. Memories of being in that burning house to save May not all that long ago rushed to the