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Spectral Revelations: A Karina Cardinal Mystery
by Ellen Butler
Spectral Revelations: A Karina Cardinal Mystery
Cozy Mystery
6th in Series
Setting – Williamsburg, Virginia
Power to the Pen (October 5, 2023)
Print length : 285 pages
ASIN : B0C7WQVTNH
Is Karina’s missing aunt on vacation…or on the lam?
Karina is trying to keep her mind on getting a cosponsor for a bill, but it’s tough with her Mom blowing up her phone. By the time Karina finally stops hitting “ignore”, Mom is frantic. It appears Karina’s Aunt Vera has disappeared, fibbed to her employer about the reason for her absence, even abandoned her beloved cat, Nightshade—which is completely out of character. Karina would bet her favorite pair of designer shoes that Vera is in some kind of trouble.
However, when Karina hauls her cookies from D.C. to historic Williamsburg to search Vera’s house, she finds nothing suspicious. Except for a mischievous Civil War ghost who scares the bejesus out of her and keeps trashing Vera’s office. Until Karina realizes his seemingly random ectoplasmic tantrums have a purpose—revealing key evidence.
Something is definitely fishy, but the clues aren’t adding up. And as the spirit’s visitations become more urgent, Karina calls on reinforcements for help—her latest squeeze Rick Donovan and her sister Jillian. Because the cops are following faulty leads, which could put Vera on the wrong end of an arrest warrant … if she’s found alive.
International bestselling and award-winning author Ellen Butler presents book six in the Karina Cardinal mystery series! Fans of Elizabeth Peters and Janet Evanovich’s Stephanie Plum will adore this gripping mystery adventure.
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Enjoy this peek inside:
Wednesday
“Hello? Is that you, Karina?” Mom answered.
“Hi, Mom, it’s me. I saw you called … a few times. I was in a meeting with my boss. What’s going on?”
“Have you heard from your Aunt Vera?”
“Aunt Vera?” I sat in my office chair and spun around to look out the window. “No. I haven’t spoken to her since June, when Jilly and I went down to visit for her birthday. Why?”
Aunt Vera was my mother’s first cousin, not her sister, making Vera my first cousin once removed. This was explained to me when I had a family tree project during seventh grade. I never forgot it. However, because she was of my mother’s generation, we grew up calling her aunt rather than cousin. Mom always said Aunt Vera was the sister she never had.
“She was supposed to call me back about Thanksgiving and our girls’ trip in February.”
Every year, Mom and Vera took a girls’ trip to someplace warm. It started when I was a junior in high school. Arizona spas, Florida beaches, and cruises to the Bahamas were just a few adventures the two had taken.
“We’re cruising to Jamaica this time. I’ve got to book it this weekend if I want to get the discount on the room upgrade,” she said in rush.
Mentally, I rolled my eyes. Mom was known as “the family planner,” never satisfied until events were arranged down to the last detail. Mom and Dad were coming east for Thanksgiving, while my brother Tyler and his family would be attending Thanksgiving in Oregon at his in-laws’ home.
“As far as Thanksgiving is concerned, Jilly and I have already discussed it. You and Dad can stay at my condo, and Aunt Vera can stay at Jillian’s apartment. Turkey dinner is at my place. Tell Aunt Vera she’s in charge of bringing her famous chocolate pecan pie. I’ll get the whipped cream,” I rattled off directions without pausing. “See, planning done. No worries.”
“That is precisely what I’m trying to explain. I can’t ‘tell’ Aunt Vera. I’ve been calling her since Monday night,” Mom’s tone sounded a bit frayed about the edges. “She knows we’ve got to book this trip ASAP. She hasn’t returned any of my calls.”
Well, that was odd. Aunt Vera usually returned a call within twenty-four hours, or at least sent a text. “Hm. Maybe her phone is on the fritz. Did you try her at work?”
“Yes, I called the main number, and I was passed to her boss. He said she sent a text to him. She requested time off to take care of her sick niece in D.C.”
My brows furrowed in confusion. “What?”
“Exactly. Jilly’s not sick. Are you?”
“No, of course not.” I swung back around to my desk and opened my laptop.
“I’m stumped.”
“The boss must have gotten it wrong. I’ll shoot her an email, in case her phone is busted or lost.” I pulled up my Outlook, added Vera’s private and work email addresses in the TO line, and typed up a quick message asking if she was okay. I requested she reach out to Mom or myself.
“Did you send a text?” I asked Mom.
“Of course!” she snapped as if I’d asked a stupid question.
In my defense, the question was not stupid. My mother was not of the texting generation, and she was ten times more likely to make a phone call than send a text. I rarely received texts from her; when I did, it usually told me to call her.
“If Aunt Vera hasn’t been to work this week, where is she?” I murmured, immediately regretting speaking the words aloud.
“I don’t know,” Mom cried with a bit of a whine.
I didn’t need my mother working herself into a dither. I knew I’d have to calm her down, or she’d be on the next flight from Colorado to Virginia. My parents moved out of the DC rat race a number of years ago when my mother retired from teaching. My father still did consulting for the federal government. They chose Colorado because it was in between their children. My brother lived in Seattle, whereas Jillian and I lived in the fifty-first state of Northern Virginia—a place vastly different from the rest of the state.
“I’ll tell you what, if Aunt Vera doesn’t contact one of us by tomorrow, I’ll go down on Friday. Hasina’s given the staff the afternoon off because the building is being fumigated.”
“Fumigated?!” Mom exclaimed.
“The old coffee shop on the first floor wasn’t cleaned properly before they closed for good, and the roaches moved in.” My lip curled in disgust.
“Ew!”
“My thoughts exactly. The critters haven’t made it to the upper floors, but businesses on the first and second floors have been complaining. So, we’re all getting gassed. The building must be cleared out by noon.” I shook my head. “Anyway, it doesn’t matter; we’ve gone off on a tangent. I’ll touch base tomorrow evening. If you haven’t heard from Vera, I’ll buzz down to Williamsburg to check on her.”
“Do you think I should call the police for a welfare check? After all, she’s sixty-two. Maybe she had a heart attack.”
I hesitated. “You can always do that, but the fact she told her boss she’d be out of town leads me to believe something else is going on. Perhaps she’s found a new man and flew to Vegas to elope.” I slapped a hand over my mouth, regretting the statement as soon as it popped out.
“Good lord, I hope not. It would be that horrid Randy all over again,” Mom moaned.
Aunt Vera’s first husband, Uncle Jack, was an awesome guy. The type of uncle who would swoop a kid up on his shoulders to look over the crowd at Disney World. I remember marveling at his ability to pull quarters from my ears. Uncle Jack died from a brain aneurysm when Vera was only forty-six. Returning home from work one evening, the poor woman literally stumbled over him lying on the bathroom floor. A year later, still in mourning and on the rebound, Vera married Good Time Randy.
Good Time Randy loved to party … and drink … and spend money. Within eight months, Good Time Randy blew through all their savings on lavish purchases, expensive trips, and bad investments on stock tips he’d gotten from a “bar buddy.” I could never confirm it, but I believed my parents lent my aunt the money for her divorce. Vera had been working for the Smithsonian. After the divorce, she moved away from DC and restarted her life in Williamsburg, Virginia, where she became a conservator at an art museum.
“I’m sure there is a perfectly sensible explanation for everything,” I soothed. “Don’t worry.”
Later that night, I tried to take my own advice—oft easier said than done. Wandering around the senator’s fundraiser, networking, and nursing a single glass of wine, I found myself distracted by thoughts of Aunt Vera. I constantly refreshed my email.
Nothing.
What’s that saying about a watched pot?
With a sigh, I decided to leave my email app alone and focus on the task at hand—getting a cosponsor for our bill.
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About Ellen Butler
Ellen Butler is the internationally bestselling author of the Karina Cardinal mystery series. Her experiences working on Capitol Hill and at a medical association in Washington, D.C. inspired the mystery-action series. Book critics call the Karina Cardinal mysteries, “intelligent escapism” and “unputdownable adventures that will take readers on an electrifying yet light-hearted and humorous journey.” Butler also writes historical spy fiction. Her WWII spy novel, The Brass Compass, recently won a 2022 Speak Up Talk Radio Firebird Book Award for historical fiction. The second book in the duology, Operation Blackbird: A Cold War Spy Novel, is Butler’s latest historical fiction. The novel is inspired by true events, and won a Next Generation Indie Book Award gold medal for historical fiction. Reviewers are calling it “riveting,” and, “a thrilling adventure.”
You can find Ellen at: Website / Facebook / Instagram
Purchase Links – Amazon – B&N – Kobo
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