A Fright to the Death

Praise for the Family Fortune Mysteries

Be Careful What You Witch For

“A delightful series with memorable characters, supernatural elements, and laugh-out-loud humor that will have you clamoring for more.”

—
Books-n-Kisses

“An entertaining cozy mystery with just the right amount of humor, paranormal woo-woo, and romance to shake things up. Enjoyable!”

—
Book of Secrets

“The author shows no sign of a sophomore slump . . . and readers will find themselves experiencing moments of genuine sympathy and empathy for those very grounded and likable characters.”

—
Kings River Life Magazine

Pall in the Family

“A tightly plotted, character-driven triumph of a mystery,
Pall in the Family
had me laughing out loud while feverishly turning pages to try to figure out whodunit. This novel sparkles with charmingly peculiar characters and a fascinating heroine, Clyde Fortune, who effortlessly shuffles the reader into her world like a card in a tarot deck. Eastman is fabulous!”

—Jenn McKinlay,
New York Times
bestselling author of the Library Lover’s Mysteries, the Cupcake Bakery Mysteries, and the Hat Shop Mysteries

“A kooky small town filled with eccentric characters, psychics, and murder make Eastman’s Family Fortune Mystery series a stellar launch. Add a dog-walking ex-cop paired with her old-flame investigator, and it’s not hard to predict a brilliant future for this quirky new series!”

—Kari Lee Townsend, national bestselling author of the Fortune Teller Mysteries and the Mind Reader Mysteries

“What emerges as most entertaining in this mystery by debut author Dawn Eastman is how well she slowly develops her characters and prevents them from being two-dimensional caricatures . . . The paranormal aspect is surprisingly realistic and matter-of-fact amongst the townspeople . . . Clyde proves to be a talented investigator herself with or without her ‘extra’ skills, and she is a very likable heroine with the humor to cope with her eccentric relatives.”

—
Kings River Life Magazine

“[An] entertaining read . . . The cast of characters is a lovable bunch of kooky psychics.”

—
RT Book Reviews

“Awesome new series alert! . . . I highly recommend picking up
Pall in the Family
.”

—
Cozy Mystery Book Reviews

“I enjoyed this book from cover to cover . . . A must-read!”

—
My Book Addiction Reviews

“A kooky read from start to finish . . . Eastman’s character development is exceptional and the incorporation of animals made this book not only fun to figure out but also very entertaining. The psychic theme is thoroughly researched and adds another dimension to this charming whodunit.”

—
Debbie’s Book Bag

Berkley Prime Crime titles by Dawn Eastman

PALL IN THE FAMILY

BE CAREFUL WHAT YOU WITCH FOR

A FRIGHT TO THE DEATH

THE BERKLEY PUBLISHING GROUP

Published by the Penguin Group

Penguin Group (USA) LLC

375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014

USA • Canada • UK • Ireland • Australia • New Zealand • India • South Africa • China

penguin.com

A Penguin Random House Company

A FRIGHT TO THE DEATH

A Berkley Prime Crime Book / published by arrangement with the author

Copyright © 2015 by Dawn Eastman.

Penguin supports copyright. Copyright fuels creativity, encourages diverse voices, promotes free speech, and creates a vibrant culture. Thank you for buying an authorized edition of this book and for complying with copyright laws by not reproducing, scanning, or distributing any part of it in any form without permission. You are supporting writers and allowing Penguin to continue to publish books for every reader.

Berkley Prime Crime Books are published by The Berkley Publishing Group.

BERKLEY® PRIME CRIME and the PRIME CRIME logo are trademarks of Penguin Group (USA) LLC.

For information, address: The Berkley Publishing Group,

a division of Penguin Group (USA) LLC,

375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014.

eBook ISBN: 978-1-101-60753-4

PUBLISHING HISTORY

Berkley Prime Crime mass-market edition / April 2015

Cover illustration by Daniel Craig; design element © iStockphoto/Thinkstock.

Cover design by Judith Lagerman.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

For Steve, my patron of the arts.

I am very fortunate to be able to work with the Berkley Prime Crime publishing team.

Many thanks go to my editors, Andie Avila and Katherine Pelz. Andie has nurtured these characters and this writer through three books. None of us would be the same without her and I will always be grateful for her friendship. Katherine is new to Team Family Fortune—her enthusiasm for these characters is awesome and I look forward to crafting more adventures with her.

A huge thank-you to Judith Lagerman and Daniel Craig for their work on the covers for the series. My favorite part of the production process is the cover reveal. Each time I think that they can’t possibly create a cover as wonderful as the one before—and then they do.

I also want to thank Danielle Dill in publicity for getting the books into the right hands and helping to spread the word about the Family Fortune series.

Special thanks go to my writing group, Wendy Delsol, Kimberly Stuart, Kali Van Baale, and Carol Spaulding. Their encouragement, humor, and friendship help me to keep putting words on the page. A special shout-out to Murl Pace, self-appointed Baxter fan club president and early champion of the series.

Thank you to my street team, otherwise known as my family, Ann and Bob Eastman, Barb Laughlin, Brent and Nancy Eastman, Jim and Alyce Mooradian, and Kristin Morton. If you have been forced to accept a card touting the series, you have met one of them.

And, as always, I am grateful to Steve, Jake, and Ellie for tolerating a writer in their midst, and for making each day fun.

I knew Mac scoffed at all things psychic, but why must he taunt the fates?

“I can’t believe we’re finally getting away,” he said with a boyish grin and took my hand. “This is going to be fantastic.”

I smiled and hoped he would stop talking. The man had no sense of jinxes and self-preservation. We were barely twenty minutes down the snowy tree-lined highway away from Crystal Haven. Away from my parents, my aunt, his mother, my nephew, and two spoiled dogs. The back-patting phase of the trip sat happily in our future. Sometime after I had returned to my small Victorian, Mac had returned to his cottage, and we had shared the photos with our inquisitive families. We had decided to take my new Tahoe on the trip. Mac’s pickup truck and my ancient Jeep seemed inappropriate for a potentially icy drive to Chicago. The unfamiliar vehicle made it feel like we were already far from home.

I looked out the window at the gray sky of a Michigan winter. It had snowed almost daily in January. Mac and I got through it by plotting our escape over a few chilly evenings as the white fluff had piled up outside.

I wasn’t just excited to get away—I was desperate. Between Mac’s job as a homicide detective, my live-in teenage nephew, and the rest of my interfering family that lived a stone’s throw away and had no qualms about stopping by, we had little time to spend alone together. Plus, the pressure to either return to my own police career or find a new job that didn’t involve walking dogs increased daily. I was more than ready to escape my everyday life and all I wanted was to step off that airplane in Mexico with Mac, alone. I craved it so badly that I felt certain I might hex it. What can I say? A life with psychics and tarot readers had instilled a strong superstitious streak. And the longer I stayed in Crystal Haven, the worse it got.

But, we were together. Finally. And we were about to jet away from winter for a week. Ignoring caution to join his reckless glee, I said, “What should we do first when we get there?”

Mac ticked an eyebrow upward in an exaggerated leer. His blue eyes sparkled and the lines around his eyes deepened. He spent so much of his life keeping every emotion in check that I cherished the moments he relaxed and allowed his humor to take center stage.

“Oh, nice. I walked into that one.” I laughed, relaxing in my seat. I reached for my phone as it buzzed in my pocket. “
After
that,” I said as I clicked the phone open.

My grin faded and my mood nosedived when I saw the message.

“Mac, pull over up here.” I pointed to an exit just outside of Kalamazoo.

Mac turned away from the road long enough to see the concern on my face. He glanced at the phone in my hand and flicked the turn signal. “Was that Seth? Is something wrong?”

I shook my head. I
wished
it were from my nephew, Seth.

“The text was from the airline. Our flight got canceled. It says due to weather.”

Mac pulled into a gas station parking lot and turned off the ignition. I looked out the windshield at the leaden gray sky releasing a few small snowflakes. Channel 8’s weather guy hadn’t said there was going to be a bad storm. Maybe we could take another flight. The high-pitched ping of the rapidly cooling engine broke the silence. I immediately tried to pull up the airline’s website on my phone.

Mac leaned back and rubbed his jaw, staring out the window. “I was really looking forward to getting away from this.” His gesture encompassed everything outside of the car. “And having a break from your family,” he said quietly.

I looked away from my phone and put my hand on his shoulder. “I know. Me, too. I’m pretty sick of snow. And I know my family has been a handful. I’m tired of them, too.”

Living in Crystal Haven, a town full of psychics, had its unique set of drawbacks. And so did growing up in a family that made its livelihood off of psychic messages and tarot cards.

“I’m checking to see if there are other flights. Hope is not lost.” I waved my phone at him. I was waiting for the website to load when Mac opened the door and startled me.

“Let’s go inside and regroup,” he said.

I followed, thinking that it was typical of our luck that our vacation would consist of diet soda and popcorn in a roadside gas station. I thought I heard the fates giggling.