When Salem B&B owner Charlene Morris investigates the case of a missing woman over a haunted Halloween weekend, she may find herself playing host to a whole new ghost in the newest paranormal cozy mystery from Traci Wilton!
Charlene and her spectral companion, Dr. Jack Strathmore, are moved by crystal healer Isabella Perez’s story about her missing sister, Marisol, a talented psychic of uncommon natural gifts. The spooky season is the ideal time to contact the departed for some answers; could someone from the other side reveal the truth about her disappearance . . . and the location of the priceless bejeweled statue she took with her?
Jack mistrusts Marisol’s fiancé, Rico Flores, but any number of suspects had reason to wish Marisol ill, including an embittered stalker obsessed with the talented bruja, a jealous rival witch, and a shady businessman more given to more dirty tricks than treats. Charlene’s beau, Detective Sam Holden, is on the case, but unmasking the culprit may require an assist from beyond the grave. Thank goodness it’s Halloween, when the veil between the living and the dead is at its thinnest . . .
Release date:
August 26, 2025
Publisher:
Kensington Books
Print pages:
368
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Charlene Morris hated to be late and yet that is exactly what she was—L A T E late. Her appointment with Kass Fortune at Fortune’s Tea Shoppe had been at three, and it was now a quarter past the hour.
Her own fault for losing track of time posting photos on her Thursday blog for the B&B. Charlene grabbed a cardigan sweater from her bedroom and entered the living area of her two-room suite. The television played softly in the background, and her handsome spectral roommate, Dr. Jack Strathmore, sprawled on his favorite armchair. She patted the side pocket of her purse with an explosive sigh of frustration. “Have you seen my keys?”
“Here you are, my dear.” Jack’s captivating turquoise blue eyes twinkled as he floated the keys to her from the recesses of her love seat, where she must have dropped them when she’d tossed her purse last night after her dinner date with Sam.
Detective Sam Holden had an even fuller plate these days than usual, but he and Charlene did their best to meet once a week for at least a cup of coffee. To say her life was complicated was an understatement.
Jack had a wicked jealous streak. He loved Charlene though he realized he could never be with her in a romantic way. She loved Jack, too and credited him for easing her through her grief. He was her best friend.
Being careful with Jack’s feelings meant keeping hers for Sam on the down-low. He knew they were dating and even empathized with their situation. Charlene had wanted slow and gotten a turtle’s pace as Sam’s parents had moved in with him in April after his mother’s fall when she’d broken her hip.
“Thanks, Jack.”
“Now, take a deep breath before you screech out of here like your tail is on fire as you tend to do,” Jack instructed. “You need to arrive at Kass’s in one piece . . . and then hurry home to share all the details.” His low chuckle resonated around the room.
Jack was tied to this house as his death had occurred here and he couldn’t leave the property, so he hungered for her stories. He liked Kass Fortune and thought her teas smelled wonderful, though he couldn’t taste them. Charlene didn’t have Kass over very often as she could sense ghosts, and they’d wanted to keep Jack’s existence quiet.
Best laid plans, as Avery Shriver had been injured on the head in February and returned home from the hospital with the ability to clearly see Jack. The orphan had captured their hearts at sixteen and had her own room in the mansion on the very top floor. She was now nineteen and in her second year of college, studying to be a detective. Their silver Persian cat Silva could also see Jack.
“I wonder why Kass sounded so urgent.” A teasing glint entered Jack’s gaze. “Maybe she’s had a premonition and wants to read your tea leaves.”
“I’m not interested,” Charlene replied firmly. Kass never pushed her psychic gifts on Charlene.
Her beloved soul mate, Jared, had been killed by a drunk driver over four years earlier. Would knowing his life might be cut short have changed anything? She didn’t think so. They’d been so close that she’d unintentionally excluded anyone else from their duo. His death had gutted her.
Charlene had moved from Chicago three years prior to escape her sorrow and start over. She’d been more like Sam and hadn’t believed in the paranormal or magic. She hadn’t understood Salem’s touristy vibe, or that it was known as Witch City for a reason. Now she counted not just Kass, but the Flint family, witches who traced their lineage to those days of old and the lying lasses who’d been hanged, among her dearest friends. The witch hunters hadn’t been all wrong.
She hadn’t believed in ghosts either, yet Jack was undeniable. He’d showed up in her living room, yanking on her heartstrings to help him find answers about his demise. They’d discovered that Jack had been murdered. She’d told Sam that her mansion was haunted, but he didn’t change his mind. He saw nothing. Felt nothing. Though she knew differently, there was no way to prove it to the facts-only detective.
She’d probably make a mint if she opened her home to paranormal ghost hunters, but she preferred to offer an elegant oasis in the tourist town. Their B&B was lauded for her housekeeper Minnie Johnson’s breakfasts and happy hours. She’d never regretted her choice.
Glancing into the small mirror on the wall by her desk, Charlene paused to take in her image. Hazel eyes lined in dark brown, brunette hair in a long ponytail, pale mouth. “I need lipstick!” Inching closer to her midforties every day, she noted the crow’s feet and laugh lines. To fix, or not?
“You are beautiful,” Jack assured her. “If you must, apply it when you get there. Hurry!”
He gave her a gentle air push toward the door.
Charlene smiled at Jack, pocketed her keys, and reached for the knob. Her phone hovered between her nose and the door.
“Almost forgot this,” Jack said, tugging her ponytail.
“Thanks!” It was very handy to have a ghost as a best friend.
“You can call Kass on Bluetooth from the car. No speeding.”
She waggled her fingers, not making any promises as she entered the kitchen.
“Going somewhere?” Minnie asked, eyeing Charlene’s cardigan and purse. Her housekeeper had dyed blond hair, silver glasses, and a magic touch in the kitchen.
“Kass’s. I’m late. Everything okay here? I hate to leave you when we have a full house!” The guests were out on day trips and weren’t expected back until five or later.
“I’m here if anybody returns early,” Minnie said. “I have a spinach and artichoke dip, paired with chips, for happy hour just in case. I’ll be prepping for the weekend.”
“You’re sure?”
Minnie made a shooing motion toward the front door. “I’ve got it. Say hello to Kass for me.”
“I will.”
As Charlene passed the dining table, a silver paw snaked out and grabbed her bootlace.
“Silva doesn’t want you to go,” Jack said.
Charlene bit back her response. After three years she was finally ahead in the game they played of Jack trying to verbally trip her up.
How had three years passed? She’d never believed she’d find happiness again and here she was, overflowing with it.
“Is Avery coming home this weekend?” Minnie asked.
“I think so. It’s Seth’s birthday.”
Avery was dating Seth Gamble, who attended the community college in Salem where he was working toward a business degree. His mother, Dani Gamble, lived in a haunted house as well. Seth couldn’t see ghosts, but his brother Stephen could.
“I’ll make cake!” Minnie tapped her chin. “He likes orange the best, if I remember correctly.”
“Love it. I bought him a gift certificate to Sea Level, if you’d like to sign the card.” Since Seth would probably take Avery to the restaurant, it would be a present for her too.
“Perfect.” Minnie nudged her down the hall. “Drive safe.”
Stepping out of the house to the porch and the crisp autumn air, Charlene perused the gray sky with trepidation, hoping she wasn’t in for a rain shower. She climbed into her car and started it, the Pilot’s Check Engine light flickering. Probably time to get an oil change. Before she could call Kass, her phone rang, a picture of her friend on the screen.
“Kass!” Charlene said, “I’m on my way. I’m really sorry to be late.”
“Don’t speed,” Kass said. “I was just making sure you didn’t forget.”
“Worse—I lost track of time. I swear, the older I get the more distracted I am.” Recalling Jack’s concern she asked, “Is everything okay?”
“No worries. See ya soon.” Kass ended the call.
The phone rang and Charlene answered, thinking it would be Kass again.
“Charlene?” Nope. It was her mother. Her parents, Brenda and Michael Woodbridge, had bought a condo on the bay last month. They’d kept their home in Chicago as well, to see how they liked downsizing before making the move permanent.
“Mom!”
“Charlene—you sound out of breath. Is now a bad time?”
“It’s fine!”
“I don’t believe you,” Brenda said.
“I’m in the car, on the way to visit a friend,” Charlene said.
“Who? That wonderful man who owns the antique store? I was hoping we could pick up a lamp for the condo there.”
“Archie Higgins at Vintage Treasures,” Charlene supplied. “But no, not today. I’m on my way to Kass’s.”
“The tea lady!” her mom said. “You could have just told me that.”
“Brenda, you’re badgering our daughter.”
“Thanks, Dad.” Charlene was a grown woman in her forties and they still drove her nuts. Well, mostly her mother. But they had reconciled their relationship to one of forgiveness on Charlene’s part and regret on her mother’s.
“Sorry!” Mom chirped. “So, when might be a good time to go shopping?”
“Let me check my calendar—this month is the busiest time of year for Salem and the B-and-B.”
“It’s been an adventure,” her mom said. “We love to sit on our balcony and watch the boats, don’t we, Michael?”
“We do. It’s as close as I want to get and a good compromise. I took Dramamine for motion sickness on our short two-day cruise and was still miserable.”
“It was nice that you tried, honey,” her mother said.
Charlene owed her mother’s friend at church in Chicago a million thanks for setting Brenda down one enlightened day and telling her to shape up and not be so bitter. Probably in nicer, friendlier words, but the gist had brought about a changed lady.
“I’ll check my schedule when I get back this afternoon,” Charlene promised.
“Thanks! The Holdens, Daniel and June, are coming over for cards on Saturday night and I noticed last week that the corner was dark. A lamp would be perfect.”
Daniel and June were Sam’s parents, and the couples had taken to one another like celery and hummus.
“I can possibly squeeze in time Saturday right after breakfast when the guests leave for excursions,” Charlene said.
“Perfect. I’m teaching June how to play mah-jongg while the guys talk history. Boring to us, but we still have fun.”
June had been recuperating after hip surgery in April. Sam was the only one of his siblings to have an extra room, so he’d offered his home to his retired folks. Sam’s mom was the life of the party, while Daniel was more reserved, but only a smidge. They had a condo on a golf course in Jupiter, Florida, but had liked Salem so much they’d put off their return until mid-October.
“I’m sure you do.”
Charlene adored Sam’s family, and though he’d been about to propose on Valentine’s Day, the engagement ring had stayed in his pocket since. She accepted responsibility for that as her shock had been apparent.
Jared was her soul mate. Could a woman be lucky enough to have more than one big love? Including Jack, she had three.
“Talk to you later, Charlene,” her mom said, pulling her to the present.
“Love you!” her dad chimed in.
“Love you both,” Charlene said. Call over, she located a parking spot in a paid lot. There was no time to cruise around for a possibly free one on the street.
After parking, she hurried to the Pedestrian Mall across from the Peabody Essex Museum and the strip of quaint shops that ranged from tarot readers, witch supplies, a bakery, coffee, tea, several cafés and restaurants, a pub, tourists’ stores, and a tall parking garage. One of the unsolved riddles in a popular historic town was the issue of where to put the influx of cars. There was only so much room before you hit the water, so up was often the only way to go.
Charlene passed a long bench that had the image of an attractive woman selling real estate printed on it. The photo trend was growing, something that appealed to her marketing background. Real estate, yacht sales, and dental care seemed to be the more popular choices, but she was considering an ad to improve her slower March and April months at the B&B.
Crossing the street, Charlene entered Kass’s shop and stopped to take in the scents and sounds. No matter how many times she’d been inside, it was always a balm to her senses: lavender, citrus, sandalwood, cinnamon, and the focal point in the center was a large ceramic water fountain shaped like a goddess pouring tea into a cup. String music played through the speakers but melded with the soothing trickles. Kass had designed the fountain herself.
“Charlene!” Kass, six feet tall, thin, her hair in braids that swung at her hips, rounded the counter. Her eyes sparkled with welcome. Her embrace enveloped Charlene with lemongrass and mint.
“Hi!”
Several customers browsed tea towels and witch-shaped pots, but Kass also carried prettier accoutrements for a variety of tourist’s desires. The back wall was all dried teas, and Kass was a genius at putting together blends. She had two college students on staff learning the tea business. Nate was helping a customer, while Sue priced porcelain teacups.
Charlene waved to Sue as Kass tugged her toward the long counter by the register that had four stools where clients could order tea and Kass would read their leaves when they were finished.
A stunning Hispanic woman with wavy chestnut hair to her midback rose and smiled. Her brows were thick over golden-brown eyes, her smile revealing twin dimples and white teeth set off by the perfect deep rose lipstick.
Lipstick!
Oh well, Charlene thought. Served her right for getting lost in her blog photos.
“Charlene, meet my old friend; not old, you know what I mean,” Kass laughed, “Isabella Perez.”
“So happy to meet you.” Isabella exuded charm that suggested she had everything at her fingertips and was genuine in her joy.
Charlene immediately smiled back. “Charlene Morris. I apologize for being late. Thursday is blog day at the B-and-B. To my complete surprise, I’ve gained almost ten thousand followers since I opened.”
Isabella grinned. “I’m one of those followers,” she said. “I look forward to your weekly posts about the guests you’ve had and the places you’ve gone.”
“You do?” Charlene shook her head, pleased. “That’s really great to know. So often in marketing you aren’t sure if you’re reaching your audience or not.” She placed her purse on the stool and shrugged out of her cardigan. Her jeans, brown leather boots, and brown plaid Henley was perfect attire on this fall day.
“Tea?” Kass asked. “Bella’s is steeping.”
Charlene glanced at the counter to see a timer shaped like a flower counting down and at twenty seconds.
“Oolong and lavender with a hint of vanilla,” Bella said. She sat, and Charlene chose the seat next to her.
“Smells delicious,” Charlene said.
“Charlene likes orange zest, honey, and cinnamon,” Kass said. “Would you like a cup?”
“I hate to be predictable, but yes.” Charlene laughed.
“You’re a woman who knows what she wants,” Kass demurred. She’d had Charlene’s cup ready to go and added water from an electric kettle, setting the timer for five minutes just as Isabella’s dinged.
“What are you having, Kass?” Charlene asked as Kass nudged the cup and saucer toward her old friend.
“Rosebud and hibiscus,” Kass said.
Within five minutes they were chatting easily, including Charlene, who felt as if she had known Isabella—Bella—for ages.
“What’s new in the neighborhood?” Bella asked, leaning her elbow on the counter, her chin in her hand.
Kass picked up her mug. “Hmm. You left two years ago for New York, right?”
“Yes.” Some of the joy leaked from Bella’s bubbling personality. “When Marisol disappeared.”
“What a pretty name,” Charlene said.
“My sister was beautiful.” Bella’s large brown eyes softened.
Charlene shifted to Kass for an explanation. Kass tilted her head, and her braids slid over her shoulder. “Marisol and Isabella owned a tarot shop.”
“You read tarot cards?” Charlene asked Bella.
“No,” Bella said. “My talent is in crystal healing. Marisol could read cards as well as use the pendulum.”
“Her boyfriend designed the cards, didn’t he? What was his name . . . ?” Kass asked.
Bella flushed. “Rico Flores. He is a very gifted artist.”
“Didn’t you espouse Santa Muerte?” Kass asked. “Your shop was dedicated to her worship.”
“The Death Goddess.” Bella nodded. “The practice is one of the fastest growing in the world. I still believe in her.”
“I am at a loss,” Charlene said with a shrug. “Santa . . .”
“Santa Muerte. The movement was started in Mexico City by a woman in Tepoli, Dona Queta. It’s a very rough neighborhood. It had once been known for training athletes, but then drugs and gangs took over. Before her husband helped her build a shrine to Santa Muerte, the figure was hidden away—still prayed to, mind you, but Dona Queta changed that and brought Santa Muerte to the light of day. It’s awful that she lost her husband to an organized hit. He and her brother were shot, but her brother pulled through.”
“And she still believed in this . . . goddess?” Charlene couldn’t imagine that, actually. The Death Goddess would have to go back into the closet.
“Yes. Her faith remained unwavering. Dona Queta was married to her love, Raymundo, for fifteen years.” Bella sipped her tea. “She believes the message from Santa Muerte is one of love and acceptance for all. Her followers range from those not embraced by the Catholic religion to police officers—those who work after midnight in the dangerous areas.”
“Well, a message of love can’t be bad,” Charlene said.
Kass offered a tray of fresh-baked cookies. “Vanilla and cinnamon.”
“Yum!” Bella took one.
“What happened to Marisol?” Charlene asked. “If it’s not prying . . .”
Bella broke off a piece of cookie. “No. She disappeared.”
“Did you contact the police?” Charlene asked.
“Yes, but it didn’t help. Rico warned me it would be a waste of time. I’ve never believed Marisol would just up and leave as the police suggested. We had a house and a business together here for ten years.”
Kass reached over the counter to pat Bella’s hand. She obviously knew the story. It must have happened around the time Charlene was moving from Chicago. If it had been in the news, Charlene had probably missed it.
“I filed a police report, but Rico was right—they didn’t take Marisol’s disappearance seriously. To them, she was twenty-eight, beautiful, and of sound mind.” Bella’s gaze clouded with emotion. “I’m the same age as she was when she vanished.”
“I’m so sorry,” Charlene said.
“Me too, Bella,” Kass seconded.
“I felt pulled to come back to Salem.” Bella placed her hand to her heart. “In here.”
“How long are you visiting?” Kass asked.
“I drove in from the City for a few days. I’m staying at the Hawthorne. The hotel has a view of me and Marisol’s old house. Our tarot shop is a cupcake bar now, can you believe it?” Bella shook her head. “I see Persephone is still in business. She was probably very happy when we moved away.”
“What does Persephone do?” Charlene asked. She liked to know all the local business owners.
“She offers a full-service psychic reading that includes tarot cards and crystals,” Kass said softly. “We’re friends. Not like you and me and Marisol were, but . . . I missed you, too, when you left.”
“I was so torn up that I didn’t give how you must be feeling as much consideration as I should have,” Bella said. “I’m sorry, Kass. Marisol was my everything. She raised me after our mother died. It was her brave choices that landed us in Salem with Santa Muerte.”
“Where were you from?” Charlene asked.
“New Orleans. Mom was also a gifted psychic.” Bella blew out a slow breath. For as bubbly and joyful as she’d been, sorrow now engulfed her.
Charlene empathized with the awful process of grief. The only thing that eased the pain was time. “Is there anything I can do?”
Bella nodded, taking Charlene by surprise. The question had been just to be polite.
Kass appeared interested too. At Charlene’s arched brow, Kass explained, “Bella just dropped in and asked if I knew you and could set up a meeting—I assumed about the B-and-B.”
“You’re right, Kass.” Bella shifted on the stool and focused on Charlene. “October thirty-first through November second is when we celebrate the Day of the Dead.”
Charlene sipped her tea. The scent of orange zest was as bright as the citrus note on her tongue. “The Day of the Dead?”
“It’s becoming more popular,” Kass confirmed. “There will be a parade this year and everything.”
A Day of the Dead parade? “Just when I thought I knew everything about Halloween,” Charlene joked.
“This period of time is when the veil is the thinnest between worlds.” Bella’s voice was hypnotic.
Kass gasped, jumping ahead. “Oh! Do you think it will work?”
“I want to bring my sister through,” Bella said. “If Marisol is dead, I want to know. I want to know what happened to her. If she isn’t dead . . . then where is she? I need answers.” Tears gathered at her long lashes.
“I don’t blame you,” Charlene said. When Jared died, she’d known he’d been in a car accident. There was closure. If Avery just went missing, she’d move heaven and earth to find her.
“Thanks to your blog,” Bella smiled at Charlene, “I knew when you had a cancellation for Halloween and kept calling until I was able to book a suite, my favorite with the view of your oak tree.”
“Well done!” Kass said. “Persistence pays off.”
“You’re booked for this Halloween?” Charlene said. Minnie sometimes took the reservations, and Isabella Perez wasn’t ringing any bells.
“Yep. Me and Rico. I’m not leaving Salem until we have answers.” Bella looked at Kass. “Will you help me?”
“You know it!” Kass gestured to Charlene. “Charlene will too. Once she has her teeth sunk into a mystery, she doesn’t let go.”
Charlene had been called downright nosy, so she didn’t take offense. “Thanks?”
“And her boyfriend is a detective in Salem,” Kass continued.
“That’s true.” Charlene raised her palm. “Why don’t you want to be at the Hawthorne?”
“Marisol always said that your bed-and-breakfast was haunted.” Bella batted her lashes at Charlene. “Is it?”
Charlene reached for a cookie and took a bite, chewing to buy time. A half-truth would be the most authentic-sounding. “Sometimes it feels like it, but it’s turned out to be an open window or door.”
Bella sighed. “Marisol felt masculine energy. Not that we were ever inside, but she’d drive by sometimes.”
“The only guys around are the guests,” Charlene said. “Even our cat is female.”
“And Sam and Seth,” Kass said, studying Charlene. “Are you sure you haven’t felt anything suspicious or spooky?”
“Kass!” Charlene placed her cookie on a napkin.
“Sorry,” Kass said.
“It’s okay,” Bella said sweetly to Charlene. “Not everybody is that in tune with the other side of the veil. What day will the parade be, Kass?”
“The local coven is organizing it on November first, but at midnight through November second,” Kass said. “It’s going to be a lot of fun.”
“What does Sister Elizabeth Abbott think of the festivities? She was horrid to Marisol and me for the ten years we were in that location, handing out religious pamphlets.” Bella blinked up at the ceiling. “Santa Muerte includes all faiths. We never put down another religion.”
“Sister Abbott still crusades like it’s sixteen ninety-nine,” Kass half-jested. “The tourists usually dismiss her fanaticism as part of the tours, which just makes her even madder. You should talk to Persephone about it.”
“We weren’t close,” Bella says. “I think Marisol and Persephone fought over silly things like guys. Perse. . .
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