Published by: Paradise Books, LLC
Release Date: June, 2019
Contributors: Deborah Brown
Buy the Book: Amazon
There’s always one party crasher in the crowd. But Madison Weston and her bestie, Fab Merceau, could have never guessed that the plus-one at their newly renovated hotel’s grand opening would be a dead body.
This isn’t the first unsolved murder in Beachside’s colorful past. While a ghost haunting the premises might be a selling point to some customers, fresh pools of blood generally aren’t.
So much for their promise to put personal safety at the top of their to-do list. Pretty tough when trouble gets dropped on their doorstep like the proverbial baby in a basket. Especially when the baby is packing a Smith & Wesson.
But this murder was on their turf, on their watch. And they’ll call in every shady character, every IOU, and anything short of a felony to lay this ghost to rest—even if it risks them becoming ghosts themselves.
A scream ripped through the night air.
Creole, who was sitting next to me, stood and pulled me to my feet in one swift movement.
“Was it too much to expect that we’d get through the grand opening drama free?” I asked my husband. Now there was a word I never tired of thinking or saying—husband.
Before he could answer, another scream followed. He grabbed my hand, and we turned and ran toward the sound. This time, I recognized it as coming from my mother, who stood in the doorway of the room she’d been assigned. From the horror etched on her face, it wasn’t an oversized cockroach that had her making the bloodcurdling sound.
Creole maneuvered us around the guests, who’d been partying around the pool in the middle of the u-shaped property and now turned to stare, all probably thinking the same thing as me: “What’s going on?”
Mother’s husband, Jimmy Spoon, flew to her side, getting there steps ahead of me. He wrapped his arms around her, and she buried her face in his chest and mumbled incoherently. He peered into the room over the top of her head and pulled her away.
“She’s dead,” Mother whispered faintly, cocking her head towards the open door.
I poked my head inside and saw a blonde-haired woman face down on the floor in the entrance to the bathroom. She was naked, and other than the bed strewn with her clothes, nothing else in the room had been disturbed.
“I’m certain she’s just passed out drunk,” I said. “I’ll take care of it.”
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