Can a psychic without a clue
solve a murder without a corpse?
It’s newbie medium Simon Grey’s first time at a Psychic Fair, and so far, it’s going terribly. If things don’t turn around, the only ghost he’ll be talking to is his dead career.
But then Benedict See, the world’s greatest celebrity psychic, sends Simon a mental message from beyond the grave. He claims he’s been murdered, and only Simon can find the killer. But there’s one big catch…
As far as Simon can tell, Benedict See is very much alive.
Now Simon must untangle a web of supernatural intrigue. With a skeptical police chief, dishonest dead people, and a notorious debunker in his way, Simon sets out to solve the crime and fast-track himself to being the most famous psychic in the world. Or the most famous psychic flop.
Perfect for fans of quirky amateur sleuths, paranormal comedy, and cozy mysteries that keep you laughing until the very last page!
Excerpt From “Psychic Simon”
To Simon’s surprise, it turned out that kicking in the door and demanding to speak to the Chief meant that you got to talk to the Chief. Maybe it was different in Mancaster than in other places. Or perhaps it was different if you were the wife of a famous missing and possibly dead psychic than it was for other people. But whatever the case, within a few minutes, they were in the office of the Chief, whose nameplate on her desk introduced her as Chief Betsy Nelson.
Chief Nelson wasn’t much past 40, with short-cropped hair and a lean face that had been forced to do too much stern frowning over the years and seemed to have decided it was easier to just stay that way. She appeared to think Simon was some sort of insect that had squirmed its way under her office door. And he understood that because it was precisely what he felt like. “You have information pertaining to the whereabouts of Mr. See?” the Chief said flatly. Her eyes shifted back to Isabel. “And you’re saying some foul play may be involved?”
“He’s dead,” Isabel said, jabbing at the desktop with one finger for emphasis.
Chief Nelson shook her head. “I don’t see any reason to suspect that. Given that he was last seen only a few hours ago. And, considering the circumstances of his last public appearance, I’m inclined to think that he went off to hide and lick his wounds somewhere. If I were him, I’m not sure I’d ever stick my head up again.”
“He’s dead,” Isabel said again. She motioned to Simon, then pointed at the Chief. “Tell her.”
The Chief’s eyes swung back to Simon. “By all means. I am obliged to take all missing person reports seriously, so if you have information, let’s hear it. I’m all ears.” She gave him a polite smile so obviously fake it might have been manufactured in China and shipped in a crate of rubber ferns.
Simon shifted forward in his chair. The moment he’d been dreading had arrived. He stood at the edge of a humiliating cliff, and he was about to leap off it, arms outstretched and screaming. “Okay,” he said.
“Okay,” the Chief repeated. She kept that artificial smile on and folded her hands on the desk. She looked expectant but most definitely not-at-all-expectant at the same time.
“Okay,” Simon said again. “So, I’m a psychic medium.”
“I think we’re done here,” Chief Nelson said. And in seconds, she had pushed back her chair, stood up, opened the door, and motioned for them both to leave.
“Are you serious?” Isabel said, throwing her arms up. “We have important, undeniable testimony from one of the very best psychics in the country.” She put her hand on Simon’s shoulder. “With one of the clearest auras I’ve ever seen, frankly. Like, transparent.”
Simon wished she’d stop talking. She wasn’t helping. Her attitude wasn’t helping. The way she seemed hell-bent on not helping certainly wasn’t helping. “It’s not like that,” he said to the Chief. “Six months ago, I was in insurance. I would never have even thought about doing anything like this. But this is real. I’m not making it up, I swear.”
The Chief stayed at the door, clearly wishing they’d pay attention to the way she was urging them with both arms to go through it. “Let me see if I can guess,” she said. “You heard a voice in your head that claimed to be Mr. See, dead. And for you, that’s confirmation enough.”
“He killed himself,” Isabel said, nodding.
“He says he was murdered,” Simon corrected her.
Isabel shook her head. “Killed himself.”
The Chief’s eyes shifted between Simon and Isabel a few times. “Great, so, as I said, we’re done here. I suggest you both go home. Maybe talk to those voices in your head. Have a nice conversation with some dead people. Maybe a singalong. I bet they’d like that, being stuck on the ‘other side.’ Not a lot of singing over there, I’d imagine. You both have a nice day, now.” She waved her arms at the door like an airport tarmac marshaller directing a 747 off the runway.
