CELTICLADY'S REVIEWS: Old Bones and New Ghosts (The Marti Mickkleson Mysteries) by Kay Charles Book Tour!

Old Bones and New Ghosts (The Marti Mickkleson Mysteries)

Cozy Mystery 2nd in Series

One Ghost Another Ghost (January 25, 2024)

Print length ‏ : ‎ 252 pages

Digital ASIN ‏ : ‎ B0CPCF4S3Z

Marti Mickkleson and her ghostly Grandma Bertie are back!

With only one month to go until Marti meets the conditions of her late father’s will and gains control of her trust fund, she’s determined to be on her best behavior. No admitting that she can see ghosts and certainly no talking to the dead.

But her mother’s roped her into a new family project, her new office has a mysterious haunt, Grandma Bertie’s digging up mysteries from the past, her friend Dmitri’s barely speaking to her, and her sister’s life is falling apart. It’s enough to make a girl miss her days of flipping sort-of-beef patties on a Burger Buster grill.

Then things get really bad.

With both a cold case and a new murder on her hands, her “best behavior” won’t cut it. Protecting her family may cost her more than a trust fund. It may cost Marti her life—or the life of someone she loves.

Join Marti and Grandma Bertie in the follow-up to Ghosts in Glass Houses!

Kay Charles is the much nicer, mystery-writing alter ego of dark fiction writer Patricia Lillie (author of The Cuckoo Girls, a 2020 Bram Stoker Award® finalist.) Like her evil twin, Kay grew up in a haunted house in a small town in Northeast Ohio, earned her MFA from Seton Hill University’s Writing Popular Fiction program, teaches in Southern New Hampshire University’s MFA in Creative Writing program, and is addicted to coffee, chocolate, and cake. She also knits and sometimes purls. Both their lives would be much easier if one of them enjoyed housework.

Webpage:

https://kaycharles.com/ (includes blog)

Goodreads:

https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/17086036.Kay_Charles

Facebook:

https://www.facebook.com/KayCharlesMysteries/

Purchase Links

Amazon Amazon Series Page

The Girl stood in front of Marti’s desk, the closest she’d gotten. Like a feral kitten torn between fear and the need to make friends, she edged a little closer each day. Also like a feral kitten, the moment Marti acknowledged her, she fled. Grandma Bertie was of the opinion the Girl wasn’t used to being seen by the living, but she flinched from Grandma too, and they were both ghosts. Marti had met Caspers, friendly spirits. She’d met Eeyores, sad spirits. She’d met Cantankerous Old Coots, whom she assumed were as awful alive as they were dead, and General Pain in the Butt Ghosts. Grandma Bertie, Queen of the Eye Roll, often fell into the last category.

She’d never met a Scaredy-Cat Ghost until the Girl.

“I don’t suppose you’ve seen my grandmother around, have you?”

The Girl disappeared, and Grandma Bertie took her place. Fair trade. At least Grandma spoke to her.

“Maybe she read a lot of ghost stories while she was alive and thinks that’s what she’s supposed to do,” Grandma said.

“Could be,” Marti said. The massive belled legs of the Girl’s jeans, like her gauzy shirt, were heavily embroidered. Marti thought she’d spotted cork platform sandals peeking from beneath the ragged hem of the jeans. Either she died in the 1960s or early 1970s, or she was a big fan of the fashion of that era. She’d barely seen the Girl’s face, usually hidden behind the fall of her long, straight, center-parted hair. The few times she caught a glimpse, she couldn’t tell if the Girl’s expression was murderous or terrified.

“Just keep talking to her, she’ll come around.”

Marti wasn’t sure she wanted to put in the effort. “Where have you been?”

Grandma couldn’t have wandered far. If she strayed more than a football field’s length away from her great-granddaughter, an invisible bungee cord snapped her back to Marti’s side. The same thing happened when Marti got too far away, the reason her teenage attempts to escape the company of the old ghost failed.

“Talking to Janice Heedly.”

“Ugh.” Marti’s third-grade teacher wasn’t Marti’s biggest fan while alive, and nothing changed after her death. Mrs. Heedly roamed the park in the center of town, known as the Green to the locals. The office was located in one of the buildings, old as the town itself, surrounding the Green. Close enough for Grandma to visit her friend, as long as they stayed on the office side of the gazebo.

“Show some respect,” Grandma said. “Janice needs to talk to you.”

During the Mickklesons’ recent troubles—Marti found herself using her mother’s term for the chaos wrought by her late father—Mrs. Heedly had been a fine source of information. She had free rein of the Green and no issues with eavesdropping on the living or relaying anything she heard to Grandma. She did have issues with Marti. They couldn’t stand each other.

“Needs to talk to me? If she needs to tell me something, can’t she pass it on through you? I like that arrangement.”

“It’s important.”

“I have work to do.” Marti pulled the manila folder from her desk drawer and opened it. She didn’t recognize the name on the first resumé. That was a good start.

“Peter’s breaking ground on his new strip mall tomorrow.”

“So what? Peter’s always up to something.” RachelAnne’s husband had inherited his father’s used car dealership and was intent on parlaying it into a business empire. As long as he stayed out of Marti’s way and didn’t treat her sister and niece and nephew badly, she didn’t care what he did.

“It’s in what used to be called Henrietta’s Hollow.”

“It still is until Peter’s through with it. Mrs. Heedly wants to give me a lesson in local history?” Marti knew the place. With a name like Henrietta’s Hollow, of course it had a ghost story attached to it. In this case, a typical woman in white urban legend. She doubted it was true but had never visited the field and had no idea if it was actually haunted. She made it a rule never to search out ghosts if she could help it. Enough found her on their own.

She tossed one resumé onto the I-can’t-make-up-my-mind pile and picked up the next. Faustyn Anguish sounded like a likely candidate. Lots of administrative assistant experience, but none of it with nonprofits. She wanted to see the person attached to the name. He had to be a survivor. His resumé went into the definitely-interview pile.

“Janice says when they start digging there’s a good chance they’re going to turn up a body, and she knows who it is.”

“Lalalalala. I can’t hear you.”