Murder of a Hermit, page 1
Contents
Cover
Also by Carol Miller
Title Page
Copyright
Praise for the Fortune Telling mystery novels
About the author
Dedication
Acknowledgments
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Also by Carol Miller
Moonshine mysteries
MURDER AND MOONSHINE
A NIP OF MURDER
AN OLD-FASHIONED MURDER
The Fortune Telling mysteries
THE FOOL DIES LAST *
DEATH RIDES A PONY *
* available from Severn House
MURDER OF A HERMIT
Carol Miller
This ebook is copyright material and must not be copied, reproduced, transferred, distributed, leased, licensed or publicly performed or used in any way except as specifically permitted in writing by the publishers, as allowed under the terms and conditions under which it was purchased or as strictly permitted by applicable copyright law. Any unauthorised distribution or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author’s and publisher’s rights and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly.
First world edition published in Great Britain and the USA in 2024
by Severn House, an imprint of Canongate Books Ltd,
14 High Street, Edinburgh EH1 1TE.
This eBook edition first published in 2024 by Severn House Digital an imprint of Severn House Publishers Limited
severnhouse.com
Copyright © Carol Miller, 2024
All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. The right of Carol Miller to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs & Patents Act 1988.
British Library Cataloguing-in-Publication Data
A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library.
ISBN-13: 978-1-4483-1057-9 (cased)
ISBN-13: 978-1-4483-1058-6 (e-book)
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Except where actual historical events and characters are being described for the storyline of this novel, all situations in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is purely coincidental.
This ebook produced by Palimpsest Book Production Limited, Falkirk, Stirlingshire, Scotland.
Praise for the Fortune Telling mystery novels
“Fans of paranormal cozies will have fun!”
Publishers Weekly on Death Rides a Pony
“An entertaining plot, colorful characters, light romance, and a satisfying ending make this a pleasant and engaging read”
Booklist on Death Rides a Pony
“Fans of Steven Hockensmith’s Tarot mystery series may want to check out this cozy”
Publishers Weekly on The Fool Dies Last
“Ghosts in the attic, smokescreens, wacky characters, and a vengeful killer add up to good fun for cozy fans”
Booklist on The Fool Dies Last
“Pleasing characters spark the first entry in an often amusing mystery/romance series”
Kirkus Reviews on The Fool Dies Last
“Fans of humorous cozies with a little mysticism will want to try this one”
Library Journal on The Fool Dies Last
About the author
Carol Miller is the author of three Moonshine Mystery novels, including Murder and Moonshine, which was named an Amazon Best Book of the Month and a Library Journal Starred Debut of the Month upon release. The Fool Dies Last was Carol’s first novel with Severn House and the first entry in The Fortune Telling Mysteries series. Carol is an attorney and lives in Virginia.
www.carolmillerauthor.com
For my parents
Acknowledgments
I am grateful to my marvelous editor Victoria Britton at Severn House, along with Joanne Grant, Martin Brown, Penelope Isaac, Mary Karayel, Rachel Slatter, and Piers Tilbury.
I am also grateful to my wonderful agent Kari Stuart at CAA, along with Phoebe Rhinehart and Jennifer Simpson.
And as always, I am grateful to my dearest family and friends. Thank you.
ONE
‘He’s back,’ Megan Steele announced.
‘Again?’ Hope Bailey said in surprise.
‘Yup. That’s the third time I’ve seen him at the window in the last hour, and each time he’s made it one step closer to the door before retreating.’
Megan was sitting at the aged, coffee-brown pine table that Hope used for her palm and Tarot readings. Set in the front corner of Bailey’s Boutique – the little mystic shop owned by Hope and her sister, Summer, in the historic district of downtown Asheville, North Carolina – the table bordered the large row of windows that faced the street, providing Megan with an unobstructed view of the sidewalk and all passers-by.
‘Are you sure that he’s coming to the boutique?’ Summer asked.
‘Yup,’ Megan answered again. ‘At least, that’s how it appears to me. He isn’t circling the block or approaching any of the other shops. He just lingers at the corner of the brownstone as though he’s trying to muster up his courage to enter. He makes it a few paces toward the door, then he suddenly turns around and hurries back to the corner.’
‘How odd of him,’ Hope mused, taking a rusty tin with an illegible label that Summer handed her. She and her sister were at the back wall of the boutique, with Summer standing on the rickety herb-and-tea counter, sorting through the containers of infrequently used dried flora and infusions on the upper shelves.
‘Maybe he’s shy,’ Summer suggested. ‘If he hasn’t been here before, he could be nervous about what to expect. People get all sorts of peculiar misconceptions about the shop into their head. He might be waiting for another customer to come inside, so he can follow on their heels and feel more comfortable.’
‘If that’s the case, then he’ll end up waiting a long time,’ Hope replied, ‘because Tuesday mornings are almost always slow for us.’
Her sister nodded. ‘Especially now in September. The summer tourists are gone. The locals are busy with the beginning of the new school year and settling back into their regular work routine. And it’s too early for the autumn tourists to visit for the changing of the leaves.’ She handed Hope a second tin that was even rustier than the first. ‘Speaking of which, maybe we should have waited another couple of weeks before starting up the Wednesday afternoon tea for the season. What if no one shows up tomorrow?’
Summer had mentioned the concern more than once over the past few days, so Hope made an extra effort to sound positive on the subject. ‘Turnout for the first week or two might naturally be a bit thin, but I’m confident that the group will steadily expand as it did last year. During the winter, your Wednesday afternoon teas were so popular that we never had enough seats for everyone. I remember that several of the ladies ended up bringing their own foldable camp chairs.’
‘You’re guaranteed to have at least one person in attendance tomorrow,’ Megan added. ‘I’ll be at the tea.’
‘That doesn’t count. You don’t have an option about being here. You’re stuck in this place and can’t leave.’ Summer must have realized that her remark had an undue sharpness, because she immediately turned to Megan with an apology. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it the way that it sounded.’
‘Oh, that’s all right.’ Megan shrugged. ‘It’s more or less true. I appreciate you letting me stay with you while my leg is healing. I’m afraid that I’ve been an inconvenience and an imposition.’
‘Not in the least! We love having you with us,’ Hope assured her. Next to Summer, Megan was her oldest and closest friend. ‘Here in the brownstone you can access all of the necessities on one floor. The pull-out sofa in the study, the kitchen and the bath, even the back patio when you’re in need of some fresh air. How could you possibly go up and down your apartment stairs while wearing that enormous plaster cast?’
‘I couldn’t.’ Megan shrugged again, this time adding a slight smile. ‘But that would have put me on a forced diet, and then I might finally have been able to squeeze back into that fabulous red dress which has been hanging in my closet since our college days.’
‘Nonsense,’ Summer scoffed. ‘I wish that I had half as good of a figure as you do. You definitely don’t need to lose any weight. And if Daniel Drexler has been telling you otherw
Megan shook her head. ‘Daniel hasn’t told me to lose weight – or for that matter, much of anything else. I’ve only gone on a total of two dates with the man, and I’ve barely spoken to him in the past week. He’s still at that restaurateur convention in Atlanta.’
‘But when he heard about your unfortunate accident at work,’ Hope reminded her, ‘he sent you the largest bouquet of flowers ever to be seen.’
In unison, they all turned toward the mammoth crystal vase that was sitting on top of the boutique’s jewelry display case. It was the only space wide enough to accommodate the five dozen long-stem apricot roses.
Summer heaved a dreamy sigh. ‘Such a beautiful, romantic gesture.’
Megan was silent.
‘And the fragrance is heavenly,’ Summer continued. ‘Everyone who came into the shop yesterday commented on it.’
‘They weren’t admiring the scent or even the unusual shade of the flowers,’ Megan rejoined. ‘They were all only impressed with how big and showy the bouquet is.’
‘You think that it’s too big and showy?’ Hope asked her.
She hesitated. ‘Maybe. I’m not sure. Both of my dates with Daniel were at the Green Goat, and both times it was very splashy. The most expensive oysters flown in fresh that morning. The rarest bottle from the depths of the locked wine cabinet. The fanciest cuts of meat brought out personally by the chef for us to choose from.’
‘That’s understandable, though, isn’t it?’ Hope said. ‘Daniel was trying to impress you, particularly because he owns the restaurant.’
Megan hesitated again. ‘Maybe. I’m not sure. I had a strange feeling on both occasions, as though something was off.’ A crease formed in her brow. ‘Or maybe I’m overthinking it.’
‘You aren’t overthinking Daniel’s interest in you. His interest is clear.’ Summer motioned toward the roses.
The crease deepened. ‘Except I know so little about him. That’s what I meant before when I said that Daniel hasn’t told me much of anything. He speaks well, but it’s all been extremely vague. I’d like to find out what’s below the surface.’
‘My Tarot deck is lying right in front of you on the table,’ Hope said. ‘Pull a card and see what it shows you.’
Megan gave a short laugh. ‘I may know almost nothing about Daniel Drexler, but I certainly know better than to touch those cards without you sitting here next to me. I might cast an unintended spell or open up a portal that lets in a snarling hellhound.’
Hope laughed with her. ‘The sight of a hellhound bounding over the cobblestones would probably alarm the neighbors.’
‘But I wouldn’t object to a spell,’ Megan amended after a moment. ‘You can’t cast one to stop my leg from itching, can you? It was driving me crazy last night. It woke me up at least half a dozen times.’
‘Sadly, I’m not familiar with any anti-itch spells. But Summer might have a tincture that can help.’
‘It would have to be topical, and that obviously isn’t possible under the plaster.’ Summer was thoughtful. ‘Unless we try goldenseal. The powdered root might work. I’m not sure whether I have any in stock. It would be up here…’ She stretched for a chipped earthenware crock at the far end of the uppermost shelf, and the counter shook precariously beneath her.
‘Be careful, Summer!’ Megan cried in alarm.
‘I’m fine. No worries.’ Although she succeeded in retrieving the crock, it was evident that the wobbling counter had made Summer nervous, too, because instead of continuing to stand on it, she cautiously climbed down.
Megan exhaled with relief when Summer safely reached the ground. ‘If you had gotten injured, there would have been two invalids. Then Hope might have thrown up her hands in disgust and gone off to the beach, leaving us in misery to fend for ourselves.’
Both Megan and Summer laughed. Hope frowned.
‘Don’t be angry,’ Summer said to her sister. ‘I didn’t fall. Nothing bad happened.’
‘I’m not angry. Although I do wish that you would use the stepladder. That’s why Gram bought it for us. The counter isn’t sturdy enough to support a person.’
‘Next time I’ll use the ladder. I promise.’
The frown remained.
Summer frowned back at her. ‘You can’t honestly be that upset about me climbing on the counter.’
‘No, I was thinking about the neighbors,’ Hope mused.
Megan – whose fingers had been inching toward the Tarot deck – pulled back her hand abruptly. ‘I was only joking about the hellhound before. You don’t mean that it’s possible to actually summon…’
Hope shook her head absently. ‘Of course not.’
‘Regarding the neighbors,’ Summer pursued after a minute when Hope didn’t continue, ‘are you referring to Miranda and Paul next door?’
‘Yes. I was wondering if that man who Megan keeps seeing at the window is one of the new construction workers.’
‘Construction workers?’ Summer echoed in surprise. ‘But I thought the Larsons’ cellar problem had been resolved.’
‘I thought so, too. They did also. But I saw Miranda yesterday evening in the garden, and she told me over the fence that to her and Paul’s horror, the foundation of their brownstone has started leaking again. It was only a little seepage before. This time it’s an actual flood. Following that heavy rain a couple of days ago, they have nearly a foot of water standing in their cellar. And it hasn’t drained away, so the contractor can’t even determine which side of the property it might be coming from until they pump it out.’
‘What a nightmare.’ Summer groaned. ‘And now we – and all of our customers – are going to have to listen to that infernal drilling from the repairs again!’
Hope nodded. ‘According to Miranda, the crew is expected to start work sometime this week, so it occurred to me that the man at the window could be connected to them.’
‘He didn’t look as though he was in the construction business,’ Megan said. ‘No hard hat or fluorescent safety vest.’
‘He might only be doing an initial survey,’ Summer replied. ‘Or he could be from one of the utilities, marking the sewer and gas lines before any digging commences.’
‘He didn’t look as though he was from one of the utilities, either.’
‘What did he look like?’ Hope asked, her curiosity growing.
‘Well, he…’
There was a pause. Having been reassured on the subject of hellhounds, Megan was unable to resist the siren song of the Tarot. She began to flip through the deck, one card after another with a flourish.
Summer rolled her eyes. ‘You won’t get any useful information that way. You can’t select the card you like best and pretend that it applies to your situation. If you don’t draw the card properly, it means nothing. Less than nothing, even. Isn’t that right, Hope?’
Suddenly Megan stopped flipping. ‘That’s him.’
‘Who? Daniel?’ Summer retorted. ‘I just explained that you can’t pick the card you want and make believe it—’
‘Not Daniel,’ Megan cut her off impatiently. ‘It’s the man who was at the window.’
Both Hope and Summer moved toward the table for a better look.
Summer rolled her eyes a second time. ‘That can’t be the man.’
‘It’s him,’ Megan insisted.
‘He can’t seriously have a long beard and a cloak and a lantern—’
It was Hope’s turn to interject as she stared at the Tarot card in Megan’s hand. ‘You saw the Hermit?’
TWO
Megan was adamant. Hope was puzzled. Summer was point-blank incredulous.
‘How much pain medication have you taken this morning?’ Summer said to Megan, her tone pitying.
‘I am not hallucinating from either pain or pills,’ Megan returned tetchily. ‘I know what I saw. The man at the window was the Hermit.’
‘Then you should put Hope’s Tarot cards away before you imagine seeing anything else, such as the Devil lurking in the fireplace or the Hanged Man swinging from the ceiling—’
