Murder and Mahjong Read online

  Murder and Mahjong

  Divine Place Supernatural Cozy Mystery, Book 1

  Annabel Chase

  Red Palm Press LLC

  Contents

  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

  Also by Annabel Chase

  Chapter One

  I kept my eyes closed, allowing myself a few extra minutes of sleep. I was tempted to call out of work sick, and this time it wouldn’t be a total lie. I definitely felt out of sorts. I’d been in the middle of a flying dream. Well, technically it was a falling dream, given that I moved vertically rather than horizontally and seemed to have no control. I shuffled my butt in an effort to get comfortable. The bed felt unusually lumpy. It was only when I opened my eyes that I noticed a sky above my head instead of a ceiling. I wasn’t in my bedroom or even in my house. Why was I still wearing my hot dog costume? I tried never to fall asleep in it—too hard to clean. I rolled over onto my knees and only then did I realize I’d been on top of a…man? Weird. Well, sort of weird. I’d spent my share of time on top of men, but not in the middle of a field—not since college anyway.

  I studied the figure beside me. Although the Hawaiian shirt over a cotton T-shirt suggested otherwise, he didn’t look like a regular man. For one thing, his calves were the size of tree trunks. He was more like a white-haired Scottish warrior pumped up to the size of a Christmas lawn ornament.

  “Are you all right?” Hesitantly I reached out and poked his muscular arm. The figure remained still. Had I given some guy a heart attack? I knew there were risks after a certain age, but for starters, I didn’t even remember him. And where was I? Who wears a T-shirt that says The Zeus Is Loose? At least have the good taste to wear a shirt that features Baby Yoda. You could slap that image on a bib and I’d wear it.

  “Do we eat it?” someone asked.

  I turned my head to see a man and a woman staring down at me. The woman had a hooked nose with a wart on the end that screamed classic witch. The guy looked straight out of the transformation scene in Teen Wolf—a human body paired with a wolf’s head. Okay, clearly I was still dreaming.

  “It’s moving,” the witchy woman said. “If your food moves, I’d suggest not eating it yet.”

  “Only because you’re not a werewolf.”

  “Who’s on the ground?” the warted wonder asked, craning her neck for a better view.

  I shifted to the side and their eyes widened.

  “What have you done to Zeus?” Teen Wolf demanded.

  I glanced at the prostrate lumps of muscle. “I don’t know what happened. I just woke up.”

  More figures gathered behind my two interrogators.

  “Who are you?” the witchy woman asked. “You don’t seem familiar.”

  Teen Wolf shrugged. “You know Zeus. It’s hard to keep up with the number of women here that mount Olympus.”

  My head felt woozy. I tried to focus on the sea of inquiring faces and realized with a start that they were all wearing costumes or Halloween makeup. Yes, this had to be a dream. I fell asleep wearing my hot dog suit, and now I was dreaming that everyone was in costume.

  “Roger, check on Zeus,” a woman’s voice rang out.

  Teen Wolf recoiled. “Are you nuts? I’m not touching Zeus without permission. I don’t need a lightning bolt shoved up my…”

  “Zeus!” A young woman pushed her way through the crowd, her features etched with concern. Red curls framed her angular face. Her bone structure was worthy of a museum statue. She dropped to her knees beside the unconscious figure and smoothed back his silky hair. “Wake up, my love.”

  “I don’t think he’s waking up,” someone said. “He hasn’t so much as twitched.”

  “Looks like he spent all night with the hot dog,” Roger said. “He’s probably worn out.”

  The flame-haired woman shot to her feet. Her porcelain cheeks were tinged with pink as she shook an angry finger at the wolf man. “Zeus is my god. He doesn’t consort with hot dogs or any other ballpark snacks.”

  “Calm down, Donna,” the witchy woman said. “He’s probably in a deep sleep. Remember that time he spent too much time in the poppy field? He was passed out for hours.”

  “We need a healer,” Donna said firmly.

  I raised a finger. “I hate to interrupt this fascinating dream, but can someone tell me where I am?”

  “You’re on the cricket field,” Roger said.

  “Cricket? Am I in Australia?” Where else did they play cricket—England? India?

  A quick study of my surroundings revealed palm trees, a large lake, and clusters of colorful buildings in the distance. That ruled out England and India. The field itself was mostly short-cut grass that had been bleached by the sun, except for the longer and more vibrant green area directly beneath us.

  “I’m here,” an authoritative female voice said. “Make way for the healer.” The crowd parted to let her through. She wore a powder blue tracksuit and her auburn hair was piled on her head in a messy bun. She blanched at the sight of Zeus. “Drunk at this hour?”

  “Seriously, Brigit. Do you think we’d have bothered to get you for a drunken god?” the witchy woman asked. “There aren’t enough hours in the day.”

  “He’s not drunk,” Donna said, visibly irritated.

  The healer crouched beside him and placed a gentle hand on his chest. “You’re right. He’s not drunk. He’s gone.”

  A collective gasp followed and Donna swayed like a hollow tree in the breeze, ready to faint.

  “Oblivion?” Roger asked.

  Brigit nodded somberly and Donna let loose an agonizing scream. The wind picked up around us, kicking up puffs of dirt.

  The witch’s hand sliced through the debris. “Get a hold of yourself before you spirit us all away.”

  Donna choked back sobs and the air settled.

  Roger put a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Take it easy on her, Helen-Mary. How would you feel if this was your boyfriend?”

  “Oh, please,” the witch said, unmoved. “She was his consort for what—five minutes in the grand scheme of things?”

  “Somebody needs to tell Hera,” Brigit said.

  Donna faced me, her hands clenched at her sides. “What did you do to him?” She started to pummel me with her fists. Thanks to the thickness of the hot dog suit, I was insulated from the blows.

  “I saw her fall from the sky,” Helen-Mary said. “Her landing must’ve obliterated him.”

  “Good thing I wasn’t a house or it might’ve been you on the ground,” I said to the witch.

  “She doesn’t weigh enough to hurt Zeus,” Roger said.

  I smoothed the fabric of my hot dog suit. “Thank you. I appreciate that.” I’d been careening toward the next dress size ever since my last birthday. Once perimenopause hit, it seemed like my hormones banded together to protect me from being mistaken for a slim, attractive woman. The unwanted hairs in random places didn’t help either. In fact, that explained the presence of Teen Wolf in my dream. He was probably a projection of my middle-aged angst.

  “Depending on how far she fell, she might have been able to crush him,” Brigit said. “It’s called physics.”

  “Is that the cause of death?” I asked. “He was crushed to death?”

  “He doesn’t look crushed,” Helen-Mary said.

  The h
ealer shrugged. “I can’t tell that at a glance. His injuries could be internal.”

  “You mean do an autopsy?” I asked.

  “We don’t do those here,” Brigit said.

  “Then take him to a hospital,” I said.

  Brigit’s expression grew pinched. “I don’t mean here, the cricket field.” She made a sweeping gesture. “I mean here where we live.”

  “His body will disintegrate within forty-eight hours, give or take a few,” Roger said. “Maybe a little more because he’s one of the big three.”

  “Big three?” I queried.

  “Only among the Greeks,” a man interjected. He was tall and slender, with golden-brown skin and a book tucked under his arm. “Once again, I feel compelled to remind you that Greece is not the center of the universe.”

  “This isn’t the time, Manjusri,” Brigit said, her tone sharp.

  “You can’t just leave him here to disintegrate,” I said.

  “What’s the point of moving him?” Roger asked. “It’d be like shoveling snow that you know is going to melt in a few hours.”

  “Don’t you need to figure out what really happened?” I asked.

  “We know what really happened,” Brigit said. “You dropped from the sky like a falling star and obliterated him.”

  My head throbbed. I wanted out of this dream and fast. “What does that even mean?”

  “He’s been snuffed out of existence,” Brigit explained. “Oblivion is the final death, where supernaturals cease to exist in any form.”

  “But he’s immortal, isn’t he?” I asked. “How can he have a final death?”

  “Immortal doesn’t mean invincible,” Brigit said. “We can be killed, although Zeus never died on the mortal plane. He came here once he’d sufficiently faded from the collective consciousness.”

  “Whoa.” I reeled back. Why did I sound so smart in my dream? “Are you immortal too?”

  “I’m the Celtic goddess of healing,” she said. “There are other healers in the village, of course, but not all of them are deities.”

  I barked a short laugh. “Okay, now I feel like I’m in that movie Inception.” I raised my arms to the sky. “You can wake up now, Eloise. Mischief, come and lick my nose and then bite it.” That always did the trick. My Siamese cat was more effective than any alarm clock. One swipe of her sandpaper tongue and I was pulled back to consciousness, usually against my will.

  “What’s she doing?” Roger asked.

  “It seems like some sort of chant,” Helen-Mary said. “I’m not sure if she’s trying to summon a demon or cast a spell.”

  My arms dropped to my sides in a huff. “I am trying to wake up. Clearly I’m asleep at home in my bed after eating way too many salt and vinegar chips and now I’m suffering the consequences.” Again.

  “What are you?” Roger asked.

  “Passed out drunk apparently,” I replied. Had I been drinking before I fell asleep? I couldn’t remember.

  “No, he means which type of supernatural are you?” Helen-Mary asked.

  I laughed awkwardly. “I’m a forty-seven-year-old woman.”

  “I think she might be a Nordic goddess of mischief,” Helen-Mary said.

  “Mischief is my cat.”

  “No,” Brigit said, sizing me up. “She’s no goddess.”

  I popped out a hip. “Well, I don’t think you’re so special either.” In truth, Brigit was stunning, but if someone insulted me, my gut response was to fire back.

  “Seriously, what’s your type?” Roger asked.

  “My type?” Was Teen Wolf hitting on me now? I wasn’t the most appropriate person in the world, but even I had standards.

  “You’re clearly not a hot dog,” Donna said. “So what are you? A nymph?”

  “Eloise Worthington. I live in Chipping Cheddar, Maryland. I’m forty-seven years old, single, and I live with my cat.” And I really missed her right now. “I’d like to speak to the manager of…wherever I am.” I raised my chin a fraction.

  “Oh, she’s one of those,” Roger said, rolling his eyes. “I bet you sent your food back in a restaurant because it was cooked medium well instead of medium well plus.”

  “They shouldn’t ask if they don’t intend to honor the request,” I objected.

  Brigit proceeded to stretch my eyelids up and closely examine each eye. “How odd.”

  “Yeah, they’re called floaters,” I said. “I’ve had them since I was teenager. When the sun’s bright, I can see their shadows. Really distracting on a windshield.”

  Brigit’s brow furrowed. “I’m not talking about your eyes. I’m talking about you.” She turned to address the small crowd. “She’s human.”

  They took a collective step backward. “What are you talking about?” Roger asked. “That’s not possible.”

  This was officially the freakiest dream ever.

  Roger studied me. “You don’t know where you are, do you?”

  “In my house,” I said. “Asleep.”

  “We should take her to the HOA,” Manjusri suggested. “There’s obviously been a mix-up.”

  “What will they do?” Roger asked. “It’s not like they have authority outside of the village.”

  “I think I’ll try to wake myself up now.” I pinched my arm and yelped.

  Brigit pursed her lips and placed a comforting hand on my shoulder. “I hate to be the bearer of bad news, Eloise Worthington, but you’re not asleep. You’re dead.”

  I brushed off her hand. “What are you talking about? How can I be dead? I was home…” Fragments of memories flashed in my mind. A baseball bat. Shards of broken Glass. A snake. “What the…?” I twisted my arm to look at the place where the snake’s fangs had attacked my flesh. There they were. Two angry red puncture marks.

  Helen-Mary followed my gaze. “Oh my. Were you killed by a vampire?”

  “What an absurd accusation,” a man said, elbowing his way forward. His skin was pasty and his eyes mesmerizingly dark. “No vampire in his right mind would drain someone from the arm.”

  I squinted. Did he have actual fangs?

  “Don’t worry,” Brigit said. “Those marks will fade within a few days of being here.”

  “Where is here?” I asked.

  “Divine Place,” Brigit said. “Think of it as an afterlife village for supernaturals.”

  Dead. Afterlife. My head was spinning and I tried to remember which underpants I had on. Were they clean? Even worse, were they my white granny panties? I shifted uncomfortably in my hot dog suit. “I’d like to take this off now, but I can’t remember if I’m wearing clothes underneath.” I began to feel disoriented. “I need to sit down.”

  “Let’s bring her to the HOA before she passes out,” Roger said. “Hera will know what to do.”

  “That someone will also be the one to deliver the news to Madam President that Zeus is dead,” Fangs McTavish said. He pressed a finger to the side of his nose. “Not it.”

  “I’m staying right here with Zeus,” Donna said with a stubborn jut of her chin.

  Sweat dripped down my back and I stumbled sideways.

  “We need to strip off that ridiculous hot dog outfit,” Brigit said. “She’s overheating.”

  Their voices began to blend together. “Good thing she’s here and not you-know-where or they’d be roasting her over a spit by now.”

  “Whether they thought she was a hot dog or not,” someone added.

  Their images grew fuzzy and I welcomed the flood of darkness as it washed over me. I was certain that, when I finally woke up, I’d be in my bedroom and all would be well.

  It had to be.

  Chapter Two

  A slender finger repeatedly stabbed me in the arm. “Are you awake yet?” Poke. “How about now?” Poke.

  Before I even opened my eyes, I gripped the offending hand and squeezed. “Poke me again and you’ll be in the market for a new finger.”

  A voice squeaked and I released the finger.

  “Randolph, I tho
ught you said she was human,” an imperious voice said.

  My eyelids slowly lifted to reveal a woman in a Lilly Pulitzer-style pink and green sheath dress with a scalloped hemline. Frosted brown waves were piled on top of her head in an updo that looked more appropriate for an elegant cocktail party than wherever I was now. She stood over me, her expression a mixture of disdain and curiosity.

  “That’s what Brigit told everyone, Madam President. Her name is Eloise Worthington.” The owner of the poking finger crouched to my left. He had pointy ears and an angular face. The bridge of his nose was sprinkled with pale freckles.

  “And where is the healer now?” The elegant woman known as Madam President scanned the room.

  “She’ll be here as soon as she’s finished on the cricket field,” a deep voice said.

  I pulled myself to a seated position and scanned the crowd to identify the speaker. I didn’t recognize him from earlier and I definitely would’ve remembered. With his dark, wavy hair and two Princess-cut sapphires for eyes, it was hard to look away.

  “This dream just got a little better,” I murmured. It took me a moment to register that the room was filled with everyone from the field. They must’ve all accompanied me here. And where was here? I surveyed the space. Laminate flooring, multiple chandeliers, and rows of seating told me that it was a meeting room of some kind.

  “I’m afraid we have a grave situation on our hands, Hera,” Helen-Mary said.

  Hera? As in Zeus’s Hera? The brief conversation on the field came rushing back to me and I suddenly understood everyone’s reticence to deliver the bad news. The goddess was more intimidating than Sister Catherine from my childhood neighborhood. The mere sight of the nun struck fear in the heart of every child that crossed her path, so we avoided her house like the plague.