Do You Haunt to Know a Secret?, page 1
DO YOU HAUNT TO KNOW A SECRET?
ELLEN RIGGS
Free Prequel
Rescuing this sassy dachshund would be a lot easier if he were actually alive.
Novice psychic Janelle Brighton has been framed for murder and a cocky canine ghost holds the key to the mystery. Can they rescue each other before a killer prevails? Join Ellen Riggs’ author newsletter to get this FREE prequel to the Mystic Mutt Mysteries series.
Do You Haunt to Know a Secret?
Copyright © 2024 Ellen Riggs
All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, 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 without the prior written permission of the author.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
ISBN 978-1-990613-36-4 eBook
ISBN 978-1-990613-37-1 Book
ASIN B0C9P78X8N Kindle
ASIN TBD Paperback
Publisher: Ellen Riggs
www.ellenriggs.com
Cover designer: Lou Harper
Editor: Serena Clarke
2407172139
CONTENTS
Title Page
Copyright
Free Prequel
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
What's Next
Newsletter Signup
More Fun
CHAPTER ONE
Mr. Bixby clicked briskly across the hardwood floors of Whimsy, my jewelry and gift store, and flung himself down rather dramatically. “Nothing nicer than a sunbeam in December,” he said. “We’ll get precious few in the months ahead so I must enjoy it now.”
“Could you enjoy one of the other sunbeams?” I came around the counter and stared down at the dog. “You know full well Ren and Bijou will be here any minute. You’re blocking the door.”
He cracked one eye open. “This is the warmest sunbeam and a dachshund with a pedigree like mine deserves only the best.”
It wasn’t the first time he’d mentioned his pedigree today or even the third, and it was barely 10 o’clock. No one could deny he was gorgeous, with a sleek tan-and-black coat and big chocolatey eyes, but his vanity grew by the day, perhaps even by the hour. “You do deserve the best, but I’d argue there are equally good sunbeams closer to the window.”
His very existence was the biggest miracle of my life. A few months ago, this dog was a ghost inhabiting another jewelry store down south. When someone attacked me, however, he crossed over to the living to save my life.
“That was just the first time. Shall we count all the others?” He offered a deep and melodious chuckle. “It’s barely 10 o’clock. For all we know I might save your life again today.”
“Don’t say that. I was in a great mood.” Mr. Bixby could read my thoughts—at least, most of them—and we were able to converse aloud or on our “inside line.” I preferred the latter, as chitchat with even a pedigreed dachshund attracted unwanted attention. Many people in the quirky town of Wyldwood Springs had pets with unique abilities but most were able to keep a lid on their discussions. I was still learning.
“Exactly.” He answered my thoughts instead of my statement. “You need to be schooled.”
I crossed my arms. “Can we not talk about that, either?”
He rolled onto his back, letting his silky ears flop fetchingly. “What would you like to talk about, Miss Brighton? How about your little magical malady?”
It wasn’t little. I had acquired a very persistent case of nervous hiccups from my grandmother’s cousin Liberty. In trying to save her from a deadly wasting spell I’d given her a generous infusion of my energy and got nothing in return but an embarrassing condition. When I hiccupped, which was often, sunflowers sprouted in unlikely places and grew shockingly fast. “I don’t want to talk about that either, thank you very much.”
“Okay, if you don’t want to talk about the sunflower explosions, how about the other hiccupping disasters?”
“Plural? I’m only counting the situation with Minerva.” After a summons from Mayor Ruthann Longmuir a few weeks ago, I’d accidentally hiccupped her feisty feline to a very uncomfortable destination for a cat.
“Vanishing Ruthann’s familiar left the mayor exposed to the many dastardly magicals vying for her position.”
“Tell me something I don’t know.” I raised my hand to stop him. “Just a figure of speech. We fixed that problem and we’re moving on.”
“But there’s the other problem, remember. The one where you exposed and then vanished the town sentinel. Ruthann said no one has managed such a feat in a century. I’d probably be proud of you if you’d done it on purpose. Or even knew you did it.”
Sometimes this dog was too much. I couldn’t even take a short break to recuperate from the challenges life in Wyldwood lobbed at me. “Enough, Bixby. Can’t we just enjoy this beautiful day?”
Lifting his head, he eyed me. “My job is to keep you alive. That starts with lively conversation about your shortcomings.”
“The only thing I want to say right now is move your pedigreed keister. Ren and Bijou are here. Just like they are every day at 10 o’clock.”
He kept his keister in the sunbeam, forcing my best friend and her sweet poodle crossbreed to pick their way around him when they came in. Bijou stepped on Bixby’s tail accidentally on purpose. She was another of my ghost dog rescues and was utterly devoted to my best friend Renata Scott and me, but Bixby was a necessary evil.
My dog glared at me. “Is that any way to think about your familiar?”
I grinned. “Another figure of speech. And if you’re going to trip Ren when she’s carrying…” I paused to allow her to announce the treat of the day.
“Apple turnovers,” she said, smiling. Ren was stunning, even in a stained apron with long raven hair tucked into a net. “Hope that tickles your fancy, Janelle.”
Anything coming out of Flour Girl, her bakery next door, made my tastebuds happy. Our daily morning meeting, even more so. Ren and I were estranged for many years while I was traveling around the country working in upscale resorts. It was a terribly lonely life, despite being surrounded by people. Renewing our friendship and finding new ones was the best thing about coming home to Wyldwood. Owning Whimsy was a close second.
Footsteps on the stairs let us know Sinda Joffrey had left her basement studio, where she created the stunning jewelry now on display. Despite being in her early seventies, she was attractive and vibrant. In fact, I could swear she had less gray hair than when she arrived in town to help me launch the store. She certainly moved more easily.
“What were you two arguing about?” she asked, as we gathered at the polished oak counter.
I pointed at Mr. Bixby, who was up and ambling toward us. “He was determined to be an obstruction.”
“Stupid wiener boy tried to trip Renny-Ren-Ren.” The insult came from Bijou, who was prepared to put her life on the line for Renata. Tiptoeing around an overconfident dachshund wasn’t part of the bargain.
“Now, Bijou,” Ren said. “I know he baits you but try to avoid the w-word.”
Wiener was in our lexicon of forbidden words, along with sausage and sundry others. I had a couple in there myself.
“Like witch?” Bixby asked, lifting an imperious paw in a request to take what he considered to be his rightful place on the counter.
“Hey, I’m not the one who dissed you,” I said, doing his bidding anyway.
“Wiener is an absolute affront to a dog like me, whereas witch isn’t an insult. It’s just a statement of fact. And one that’s becoming harder to deny.”
I looked around our small circle. “How do you feel about the word, ladies?”
They both shook their heads. “Even if I qualified I wouldn’t like it,” Ren said, passing around serviettes. “But someone with my level of magic wouldn’t dare claim that label.”
Bixby strutted across the counter to inspect the pastries. There was a treat for him, as always, and we saved it for last. Bijou had already sampled the goods during their creation. The apricot dog with the build of a ballerina had a sensitive palate and could assess the optimal balance of ingredients. What’s more, she could detect toxins in trace amounts, an ability that had come in handy too often.
Bixby directed his long muzzle at Renata. “Ruthann gave all of you the label when she enrolled you in witch school.”
“Mayor Longmuir called it the Wyldwood training progra
“Probably just something she threw out to scare us into keeping a low profile,” Ren added.
“Which aligns perfectly with our goals anyway.” I picked up a turnover and smiled. “Business started booming right after Thanksgiving and it’ll likely be crazy through Christmas.”
Sinda nodded. “I can barely keep up with demand now. It’s hard to believe the pet-focused designs people scorned at my old store down south are so popular here.”
“Pupular, you mean.” Taking a bite, I blew out a few crumbs by accident. Mr. Bixby caught them before they landed. In some ways—not many—he was a typical dog.
“I was never a typical dog.” He hoovered the last bit of flaky pastry. “Even as a pup I was destined for great things. Too bad it took a second lifetime to achieve them.”
Renata’s fingers touched the pendant dangling from a gold chain around her neck. It was in the shape of a poodle with a citrine gem for an eye. I had a similar one in the shape of a dachshund with an emerald chip. These designs represented Sinda’s visions of dogs from another realm. It was a ghost gallery of canines awaiting another turn at life, or so I’d come to believe. I’d rescued five so far and rehomed them with the right person in this dimension. It was a unique calling among my kind, as far as I could tell, and one I wished I’d discovered earlier. I spent most of my life running from my destiny and may have turned toward it long ago had I known it would bring me a pack of special dogs and people.
That said, my other gifts were less rewarding and frequently got me into trouble. I was a psychic with little command of an ability I often found overwhelming. Reading minds wasn’t uncommon here but my other power was a different matter. I was able to deliver an electrical charge through my fingertips, like a human taser. It had been known to create quite a mess of someone’s mental circuitry. My firepower was hard to calibrate but it had come in handy to put a few criminals away. That, more than anything else, put me on the mayor’s radar. Not to mention the local police and the visiting chief, Drew Gillock, whom I’d very recently started dating.
Sinda touched my arm lightly to interrupt my musing and send a little healing energy into me. “Are you worried about it, Janelle? The mayor’s so-called training program?”
“Yeah, a little. My mother raised me in the school of skepticism. She trusts no one magical, probably even me. Everyone has distinctive abilities. If you show your hand—your skills—they could be turned against you. A training program might be a way of exposing what we can do.”
“I can’t do anything.” Ren moved the plate toward Sinda to encourage her to have a second turnover. “Except bake.”
Sinda took her up on the offer. “That’s not true, dear. You see auras, for starters.”
“What good is that? While I’m studying someone’s color palette, I’ll be taken down by an ability that’s actually useful.”
Bijou leaned against Ren’s leg. “I’ll never let that happen, Renny. Never never never.”
I touched Ren’s arm, passing along the soothing energy Sinda was feeding me. “Think about it, Ren. Being able to identify the bad guys even before contact is half the battle. I bet Angus MacDuff had a pitch-black aura. If I’d seen that, I would have known he was trouble long before he went ballistic in the mayor’s office.”
“Your own psychic abilities could have helped,” Mr. Bixby reminded me. “If you hadn’t been so caught up with your magical malady.”
There was no disputing I’d been preoccupied by Minerva’s disappearance. The time I lost tracking her down and returning her would have been better spent sorting out the Angus MacDuff problem. One of the most powerful magicals in town, he’d been trying to force a marriage of his convenience onto his daughter, Cassandra, and Blaine Parkin. Both bride and groom got cold feet but ultimately tied the knot after a fair bit of commotion that saw Angus carted away by the police. Not the regular police, but the ones who managed magical infractions. Their operations were still a mystery to me.
“You may be right,” I told the dog. “But we got where we needed to be in the end. Minerva is back, the couple is happily married, and Angus, a murderer in the making, is off the streets.” I popped the last luscious bite of turnover into my mouth and mumbled, “Justice has been served.”
“Are you quite sure about that?” Mr. Bixby turned suddenly on the counter, hackles rising. “Because it sure looks like the same aspiring murderer is on our street right now.”
CHAPTER TWO
Iturned quickly, hoping the dog who was never wrong had made his first misstep. Unfortunately, the large gruff man we’d successfully evicted from Mayor Longmuir’s office was striding across Main Street outside the store. The look on his face told me he wasn’t coming to stock up on Christmas gifts.
“Why isn’t he in jail?” I plucked Bixby off the counter and held him close. “Angus tried to kill Blaine and would have succeeded if not for us. He attacked the mayor, too.” I signaled for Ren and Sinda to move behind the counter. “If he comes in, call Drew while I try to talk Angus down.” Chief Gillock had become a voice of reason on the local non-magical police department. “Obviously the magical cops can’t be trusted. I wouldn’t know how to call them anyway.”
“Stay calm,” Mr. Bixby said. “Nerves are the bane of any magical, but especially the novice. And whatever you do, don’t—”
I hiccupped.
The minute my dog told me not to hiccup, I always did. That was because it meant Bixby confirmed I had good reason for anxiety.
“Don’t worry, Witchy,” Bijou said. “What’s a few sunflowers at a time like this?”
I didn’t look around to see where they were erupting but I could smell them. They weren’t the most fragrant of flowers but their cheery vibe made them my favorite. Well, that and the fact Drew had given me a sunflower bouquet when Whimsy launched.
“Not the time for romantic reflection, Janelle,” Mr. Bixby said, using our inside line. “I hardly need mention this is serious business. We’re all trapped and he’s a very powerful you-know-what.”
The word warlock was in our forbidden lexicon, along with witch, but somehow the term felt necessary for Angus MacDuff.
“What do I do?” I asked the dog silently. “Look at his face. He’s here for revenge and I can’t let him hurt Ren and Sinda.”
“You start by taking a deep breath.” The dog loved nothing more than taunting me but when the stakes were high, he was my biggest support and advisor. “And then you remember you’re the one who took him down a couple of weeks ago. You can do it again, if need be. You’re more than his match.”
I wasn’t so sure about that. When I disabled Angus, Ruthann and Cousin Liberty were with me. They were powerful and experienced women who could probably have sent Angus to Pluto if they’d joined forces. They didn’t, and now his face was pressed to my glass storefront.
“He has some nerve leaving a nose print on my window,” I said. “But I hope that’s all he does.”
My eyes were glued to the angry man outside, but the view was soon blocked by a screen of fast-growing sunflowers bursting out of the cushion on the window seat.
“Never mind,” Sinda said. “They’re just flowers.”
“They’re a show of weakness,” Mr. Bixby countered, out loud again. “He’ll know you’re spitting blossoms from terror.”
I wasn’t so sure. Angus tried to find a spot to peer through and his brows rose in befuddlement. Perhaps he thought it was deliberate. It seemed to throw him off his menace game.
Finally, he came to the door and opened it. The charmed bell overhead belted out a chime that sounded vaguely like a police siren, and that startled Angus even more. He glanced behind him, keeping the door propped open with his elbow.
“Roadkill, roadkill, roadkill,” Bijou announced.
To the dogs, dark magic apparently smelled like a mix of sulfur, rotten yard waste and roasting roadkill. Bixby called it magical flatulence.
“The stench is worse than it was at City Hall,” my dog said, sniffing. “Something’s changed.”
