The
Fortune Teller's Secret
A
Cavendish Brown Paranormal Mystery Book 2
by
Ron D. Voigts
Genre:
Paranormal Mystery
A
dead man on a Ferris wheel and a cold-case murder take Cavendish
Brown into a world of carnival freaks, ghosts, and killers.
The
annual carnival comes to Maiden Falls, a small town in the West
Virginia Mountains, but everything is not merry.
The
ghost of a woman appears to Cavendish Brown, a carnival worker lies
dead aboard a car on the Ferris wheel, and a bullied teenager plots
to kill people at the carnival with a homemade bomb. More
complications arise. Cavendish again butts heads with the local
sheriff, Clinton Pike.
Marbella
Wellingway, owner of the newspaper where Cavendish works, receives a
visit from the Angel of Death. And a Fortune Teller at the carnival
knows something that could forever change Cavendish’s life.
With
the aid of Jane, a disturbed psychic, and Alexandra, a Goth witch, he
must find the killer, help the mystery woman, and risk his life to
prevent more deaths.
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The
Witch's Daughter
A
Cavndish Brown Paranormal Mystery Book 1
Investigative
reporter and recent widower, Cavendish Brown, is unemployed and
floundering. Coerced into returning to his childhood home by the
town's eccentric matriarch, Cavendish finds himself involved in
murder, deceit, and a not-so-subtle attempt at matchmaking. Joined by
Jane, a disturbed psychic, and Alexandra, a young Goth woman with
uncanny abilities, they follow leads into the hills of West Virginia
to catch the killer. A sheriff who shoots first and asks questions
later makes solving the case difficult for the trio. Adding further
complications is an ex-girlfriend with a mob hitman on her trail who
seeks Cavendish’s help.
Immersed
in a never-ending spiral of clues and secrets, he must unlock the
darkness that surrounds the enigmatic Jane, stay ahead of the law,
and come to terms with his own grief.
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The Fortune Teller's Secret
Cavendish
and Sheriff Pike were talking about the dead man. She disliked the sheriff. His
breath smelled funny, and the light around him was orange and spiky which made
her want to stay away. Alex told her the light was called an aura. Alex stood
near the two men. She was nice. She and Cavendish didn’t have light, but Jane
understood now. She had no light either.
People
came closer to see the dead man. She didn’t care because that wasn’t
interesting. Other things had her attention.
Tools
lay everywhere on the ground. The red-haired man had worked inside the gray
box. Grease from fixing the ride made his sleeves dirty. Most of the tools came
from him. He’d used one, cussed, thrown it down, and grabbed another. Mama
always told Jane to put away her things. The man didn’t. And she knew better
than to say bad words.
But
one tool was not from his work. She’d watched carefully, and it was already on
the ground before he came. Perhaps it held a secret, something important to
tell who killed the man.
Most
everyone stood by the dead man or stared at him or talked about his body. Jane
slipped behind the chain that kept everyone out except for the man who fixed
the ride and the boy who ran the ride. Nobody noticed her. She knelt, took off
a glove, then stretched her hand out, moving it above the ground, over the
tools. She stopped when her hand came to the wrench. Taking a deep breath, she
snatched it up.
For a
moment, she fell, even though she knew she wasn’t moving. A loud hum filled her
head. She was no longer inside Jane.
Meaty
hands in front of her twist something inside the gray box with the wrench. The
man hums a tune. Sometimes he says a word or two of the song and then hums more
of it. The man is thinking about the music inside his head. She starts to
understand what he is singing. Something about every move you make, every
breath you take, I’ll be watching you. Jane thinks the words are funny for a
song.
The man
stays lost in his song and the work. He doesn’t hear the footsteps behind
him—somebody walking on the wood platform leading to where people get on the
ride. Whoever it is, stops. Jane wishes the man fixing the ride will look. She
realizes he is the dead man, and whoever stands behind him is the killer.
“Yeah,
Hersh, I’m working as fast as I can.” He doesn’t turn his head.
Whoever
stands behind him says nothing. The man wonders why he’s not being yelled at
because the ride is broken, and he hasn’t fixed it yet.
Expecting
to be in trouble again, he stops working but doesn’t look. He’s still thinking
it’s someone named Hersh behind him. She gets a flash. Hershel McCabe.
The man
releases the wrench.
The
wrench lay beyond Jane’s fingertips. She knew who killed the man on the ride
and rushed to Cavendish and Pike.
“I
know who did it.” She took a deep breath. “I know who killed the man.”
Pike’s
brow furrowed as a low growl came from him. “You do?”
“I
touched the wrench. The guy who killed him is someone named Hersh. Hershel
McCabe.” They’d be happy she solved the crime.
“What
the Sam Hill is she talking about?” The sheriff eyed her as if she had done
something bad, and she feared he might arrest her. That scared her.
The
man with red hair, who’d been talking to Cavendish and Pike, marched toward
her. “My name is Hershel McCabe.”
Suddenly
she wanted to throw up and run away.
“Who
told you I killed him?” the man called Hersh said. “Are you crazy or stupid?”
He turned to Pike. “This is bullshit.”
Pike
waved his hand. “Settle down.” He eyed Jane again. “Where did you get a notion
like that?”
Jane’s
voice vanished. Her legs shook. She wanted to go home.
“Sometimes
she gets excited and says things.” Alex touched Jane’s shoulder. “Let’s go wait
over here. 0kay?”
She
was happy Alex came to help her.
Next
time she’d not tell anyone anything.
Ron
D. Voigts lives in Raleigh, North Carolina and sometimes somewhere
else. When back in Raleigh, he enjoys time with his family, watches
old movies and shoots lots of pool. He has his own private writer’s
retreat in La Vale, MD where he spends lots of time working on his
next novel while enjoying the mountains and eating ice cream.
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