The Southern Psychic Sisters Mysteries: The Complete Season One Read online

  The Southern Psychic Sisters Mysteries

  The Complete Season One

  A. GARDNER

  Copyright © 2021 by A. Gardner

  www.gardnerbooks.com

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the copyright owner of this book.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Dead and Butter

  Mississippi Blood Cake

  Dead Velvet Cheesecake

  Lemon Meringue Die

  Chocolate Dead Pudding

  Pineapple Upside Drown Cake

  Recipes

  FREEBIE!

  Dead and Butter (Southern Psychic Sisters Mysteries #1)

  Dear Ms. Ember Greene,

  According to our records, your Seer license has expired. Please file for a renewal with your regional representative, and update your current contact information.

  Kind regards,

  The Clairs

  Chapter 1

  The first time I fired someone, I felt sorry for the guy.

  He hadn’t been with the company long, and his wife had just found out she was pregnant. It took every ounce of energy I could muster to keep a straight face and refrain from telling him how sorry I was more than one time. I even concluded our meeting by convincing him to treat the situation as a valuable learning experience that would lead to something better.

  I know. What a bunch of garbage.

  After that, hiring and firing came easy. It was all part of the job. We all have families. We all have ups and downs in our personal lives. What my employees did on their own time was their business. And my business was to do whatever it took to land that big promotion.

  “Do you understand, Erica? I don’t care what did or didn’t happen last night. Don’t mix business with pleasure. Nothing good ever comes of that.”

  “All I said was that my boyfriend proposed,” Erica repeated, raising a thick, penciled eyebrow. “Dang, Ms. Greene, they told me you go through assistants like fresh-brewed coffee, but I thought it was a joke.”

  “I just gave you some sound advice, and all you can think about is your morning latte? Perfect.” I cleared my throat, hoping my new assistant would take the hint that it was time to leave. She didn’t. “And get this letter off my desk. I told you to put letters from this particular address straight through the shredder.”

  “What’s a Seer license anyway? Like a special driver’s license?” Erica did her best to hide the wad of gum in her mouth when she talked. It didn’t work. In fact, it was more distracting than the lime green beads on her necklace.

  “You opened my mail?”

  “You told me to check your messages.” Erica shrugged as if her actions were justified. “Should I add the Clairs them to your contact list?”

  “Definitely not.”

  Erica promptly left my office, but her questions lingered. The letters were becoming more and more frequent. At first, the messages had gone to my home address in Misty Key, Alabama. My mother called me every week to remind me. But the longer I went without replying to the Clairs, the more persistent they became. Now the letters were coming to New York City. They sounded like friendly reminders, but they weren’t.

  I shook the past from my mind and focused on the list of tasks on my screen, although my heart raced just thinking about the day I would have to do something about my expired Seer license. My eyes darted to a number on my desktop, and then another number, and then another. Finally, I looked at the time. My mother was currently dialing my work number. I swiftly informed Erica to hold all of my calls.

  But moments later the phone in my office rang anyway. I knew it was Mom.

  “So much for keeping my new assistant for longer than a week.” I let the call go to voicemail. I already knew what my mother was going to say: the same things she said every time we spoke.

  My sister Stevie was overwhelmed.

  The bakery was extremely busy.

  Carol Ann was looking for me again.

  I always called her back in the evenings when I got home from work, and I knew that Mom knew that too.

  My eyes darted to my computer screen again as a new email appeared in my inbox. The numbers practically jumped out at me as if they were doused in neon orange paint. This meant that they were trying to tell me something. I usually ignored them because the messages were never consistent, but this particular one appeared to be some sort of warning.

  191. A particularly unlucky number in the world of aviation.

  But I hadn’t booked any flights recently.

  Oh, no. Bryce. He’s a pilot.

  * * *

  I ran my fingers through my shiny brown hair, a shade my sister referred to as caramel, one last time before Bryce arrived. He wasn’t a fan of sushi, which was why we rarely visited my favorite restaurant. That didn’t bother me because I had my usual spicy tuna rolls delivered to my apartment on Monday nights when he was normally out of town.

  Bryce and I had been dating for two years, and we had the perfect relationship. I worked a lot, and he was gone all the time. We both had the freedom to focus on our careers, which made the times we did see each other more rewarding. Bryce understood that I’d been trying to snag a director position since I went to work for Fillmore Media. He didn’t care that I wasn’t at home sewing a new throw cushion and preparing nutritious home-cooked meals. I wasn’t good at that stuff anyway. Since I’d moved away from home, Doris made all my meals.

  Doris was what I called my microwave.

  “Sorry I’m late.” Bryce grinned as he sat across from me. He was still in his uniform—a getup that turned heads wherever he went. He would never admit it, but I knew he liked the added attention. I smiled as I pretended to read the menu.

  “I ordered us appetizers.”

  “Of course you did,” Bryce responded.

  “How was Denver?”

  “Denver?” Bryce glanced at the menu for fewer than five seconds. That meant one of two things: either he already knew what he wanted, or he wasn’t planning on eating.

  I couldn’t stop myself from frowning.

  “Your layover,” I stated.

  “Right.” Bryce nodded, and I held up my menu, hinting that he should look over it one more time. He didn’t.

  A waiter approached the table and placed our appetizers in the center. I studied each plate and shook my head. I knew the kitchen would disregard my request for unsalted edamame. I heaved a sigh of annoyance.

  “Excuse me, but I ordered this with no salt.” I handed the appetizer back to the waiter. He apologized with a slight bow and headed back toward the kitchen.

  “You can barely toast bread without burning it, and yet you’re extra picky at restaurants.” Bryce took a sip of water. His menu was facedown on the table now, and he’d even pushed it a few inches away.

  “The settings on those things will forever remain a mystery to me,” I argued. “I swear they design toasters these days just to drive me crazy.”

  “The bread burns because you ignore it.”

  “You should look over the menu again. I hope you’re not going to order the same thing you did last time we came here, because you didn’t like it, remember?”


  “I said the bread burns because you ignore it,” Bryce reiterated. “Kind of like this conversation.”

  A lump that was hard to swallow formed in my throat.

  “You’re not staying, are you?”

  “No.” Bryce leaned back in his chair and took a deep breath.

  The numbers were right. Why are they always right?

  “Okay, let’s hear it.” I pushed my menu aside and crossed my arms. I wiped the emotion from my face as was standard whenever I had to let someone go at work. It was better than tearing up. “Is there someone else?”

  “Yes.” Bryce didn’t hesitate to answer. “There has been for quite some time.” I studied the look on his face. He didn’t seem nervous, afraid, or even remorseful. It was like he’d already moved on from us.

  So why was this all new to me?

  “You have got to be kidding me.” I rolled my eyes, breaking my rule of remaining expressionless throughout the entire discussion. I couldn’t help it. I wasn’t prepared. “How long, Bryce?”

  “Four months.”

  “Four months?” I said, raising my voice. “Wow, another unlucky number. I suppose next you’ll be telling me the two of you are engaged or something.”

  “Ember, it’s normal for you to be upset with me, but it’s not like it’s a secret. I’ve tried to tell you this multiple times.” Bryce took another breath. “You never listen.”

  “Are you insinuating that I’m some kind of selfish prick? Because you know I’m not like that at all.”

  “We both want very different things,” Bryce replied. “You’re all about work, and there’s nothing wrong with that. But I need someone who won’t ignore my calls during work hours.”

  “My mother called you again, didn’t she?” I was hoping that it wasn’t true.

  “No. But you shouldn’t ignore her calls. She’s your mom.”

  “I don’t ignore her calls, and that’s none of your business.”

  “Maybe if it were my business, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”

  “Just leave.” I turned my head. My emotions swam in my head and my ability to stay calm and collected slowly slipped away. “And for the record, I heard you this time.”

  Bryce stood up.

  “Well then, for the record, it didn’t have to end this way.” Bryce paused as the waiter returned with a new plate of edamame, minus the salt. I stared at the food with a sour stomach. Dining alone after breaking up with my boyfriend of two years was the last thing I needed.

  “Your point being?”

  “I sincerely hope you figure yourself out.” Bryce nodded and walked past me for the last time.

  He wasn’t the first person to say something like that to me. I tended to keep my family as private as possible. I never told Bryce about me or my sisters and our special abilities. I never told him about the night I left Misty Key right after my dad died. I honestly thought that I could start a new life without all those memories. I never thought they would haunt me the way they did.

  But numbers still speak to me somehow.

  The crowded sushi joint suddenly felt empty—like I was the only person present in the entire restaurant. If I didn’t see my own breakup coming, then what else in my life was I not seeing? I glanced down at my purse. Maybe this was what Mom had been calling to tell me. I was certain that she already knew about Bryce and me.

  I pulled out my wallet to pay for the appetizers.

  Just as I did, my phone rang. It was a number I didn’t recognize, and an Alabama area code. I raised my eyebrows and carefully answered it.

  “Hello, I’m looking for Ember Greene.” The man’s stern voice pierced my chest like an icicle.

  “Yes, this is she,” I replied. “Can I help you?”

  “This is Detective Winter with the Misty Key Police Department,” the man continued. “You’re a hard woman to get ahold of, Ms. Greene.”

  “I’m sorry, is there a problem, Detective?”

  “I need to ask you a few questions about your little sister.”

  “Aqua?” I instinctively gripped the phone tighter as the face of my baby sister flashed before my eyes, along with the promise I made her right before I moved to New York. “Why? What’s wrong? What’s happened?”

  “My apologies, ma’am. I thought you knew.”

  “Knew what?”

  “Your sister is missing.” He paused for a few seconds.

  “How long?” I closed my eyes, ready for the answer.

  I knew the number that was running through his brain.

  “Four days.”

  Chapter 2

  “So, I get today off?” Erica looked up from her laptop with a smirk.

  “Just because I’m going out of town, that doesn’t mean you get an early Friday,” I clarified. “I’ll be back first thing Monday, and there’s plenty of work to do.” I skimmed through my email list, talking through the upcoming discussion I would be having with my boss. Leaving during a big project was a bad idea, but my hands were tied. My family needed me, and I couldn’t ignore it.

  “Oh, should I get that?” Erica asked when the phone rang.

  “Yeah, you should.”

  “Right, okay.” Erica answered the phone on my desk. “Fillmore Media, Ember Greene’s office. Uh-huh. Uh-huh. Okay.” Erica held out the receiver. “It’s your mom. She told me to tell you that if you don’t leave in twenty minutes, you’ll miss your flight.”

  I took the phone from Erica.

  “Yes, Mom, thank you for that advice,” I said. “But I do have a few hours before my flight, so I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

  “There will be more traffic than usual,” my mother responded in her usual tone. It took me back to my teens when she’d insisted on giving me details about every one of the boys I dated. Most of it was stuff I didn’t want to know. “I had a dream last night.”

  “Okay, I’ll leave as soon as I can,” I agreed.

  “Don’t say that just to shut me up. You really should leave early, pumpkin.”

  “I will,” I insisted, dismissing Erica with a wave. This time, Erica took the hint and left my office. I took a deep breath and cleared my head. Or tried to. I hadn’t been able to sleep at all since Detective Winter’s phone call, and my mother had insisted that the details of Aqua’s disappearance were better off spoken in person. “Any more news this morning?”

  “The police patrolled all night,” she answered. “They haven’t found any new leads.”

  “I just don’t understand.” My vision blurred for a moment. I let tears form in the corners of my eyes before dabbing away the moisture. I didn’t want to look like a hurricane of emotions when my boss came by. “Someone at the Crystal Grande must know something.”

  “Honey, we deliver to them every week. Half the time, those kitchen employees don’t even check to make sure all of the bread and breakfast pastries are accounted for. It doesn’t surprise me that no one seems to remember what Aqua was up to that morning.”

  “And you’re sure that detective guy knows what he’s doing?” I continued.

  “You’re getting worked up again.” She paused. “There’s not much we can do until you get here, okay?”

  “And Stevie?” I hadn’t spoken to my older sister in over three years. Not because I didn’t want to speak with her. Stevie made it clear when I moved away that she was no longer a part of my life. I still sent my little ten-year-old nephew, Orion, the occasional care package—books and trinkets mostly. He was just about my only real friend still left in Misty Key besides the family dog.

  “Stevana has assured me that everything is fine,” Mom stated.

  “So, she hasn’t—”

  “No.” Mom’s reply was immediate. “No. She hasn’t seen Aqua. And if she had, she would have told me right away.”

  “Good.” I gulped.

  My older sister, Stevie, was a medium. So, for her, seeing my sister would have meant only one thing—that Aqua was dead.

  A knock interrupted my thoug
hts. My heart pounded as I glanced at the doorway, ready to tell Erica that I was still on the phone. It was my boss, Mr. Cohen. He was a man of few words, which was refreshing at sometimes and scary as hell at others. On the one hand, meetings were brief and straight to the point. But on the other, I never knew exactly where I stood.

  “Am I interrupting something important?” Mr. Cohen asked, tilting his head the way he usually did when waiting for a response.

  “No, sir,” I answered.

  “Oh, the big boss,” Mom whispered into the phone as if she were in my office with me. “My chances of an I love you are long gone.”

  “I’ll see you tonight,” I told her before hanging up.

  “Nice job with the Tinley account,” Mr. Cohen said, making himself comfortable in the nearest chair. His eyes darted around my office, stopping at every knickknack as if it gave away my inner thoughts. I doubted my monogrammed pencil cup told him much. “You do have a way with numbers.”

  “Thank you.”

  “It’s a shame you’ll be gone for the weekend. We could really use your help with the new budget.” His nostrils flared. He was holding back the rest of his comment.

  “The budget will still be here when I get back,” I stated as confidently as I could.

  “Yes, it will.”

  “And I’ll be here next week when Mr. Fillmore is in town.” I nodded. It was the day I’d been preparing for all year. The day the owner of the company would appoint a new Director of Finance. That position had my name all over it, according to the numbers. I’d made the most effort. I’d saved the company hundreds of thousands of dollars on more than one occasion, and nobody put in as many hours as I did.

  “Ah, yes. The big meeting. You won’t want to miss that.” Mr. Cohen cleared his throat, placing a hand on the beer gut that seemed to be more and more swollen every time I saw him. The same went for the gray in his hair. He’d been a solid brunette when I was first hired three years ago.