a cold case from 1924
Four friends find history (and murder) in their home town
Four friends find history (and murder) in their home town
Four friends find history (and murder) in their home town
Four friends play to win… and another husband dies. This time it’s an old, cold crime.
A fundraiser in the Silent City--better known as the graveyard--drops a clue in Amy’s lap and her dreamy snippet compels her to solve the crime from 1920s history. Her Grandmother Ollie had warned her against Haints, and now she may be talking with one
Four friends play to win… and another husband dies. This time it’s an old, cold crime.
A fundraiser in the Silent City--better known as the graveyard--drops a clue in Amy’s lap and her dreamy snippet compels her to solve the crime from 1920s history. Her Grandmother Ollie had warned her against Haints, and now she may be talking with one of them on the vintage Ouija board
The 1920s was an exciting decade for the women of Bluff Springs, but Amy soon discovers that more than one husband didn’t make it out of his marriage alive when uncovers a cold case murder.
Has Amy uncovered the black widow society of 1924? Or something even darker?
As Amy and her best friends unravel the clues in this tale of deception, they realize that four queens make a dangerous hand to play.
PUBLISHED MAY 2025 by SCORPIUS CARTA PRESS
Cash in on a historical fundraiser in the silent city
Four friends find history (and murder) in their home town
Four friends find history (and murder) in their home town
Something caught her eye as it fell from the tree beside her, landing with a loud crashing thump on the ground. She stifled a scream and turned toward the sound, but the night blinded her vision.
She pulled the flashlight from her pocket and scanned the ground. A dark form rose from the ground and she screamed. Every flashlight in the g
Something caught her eye as it fell from the tree beside her, landing with a loud crashing thump on the ground. She stifled a scream and turned toward the sound, but the night blinded her vision.
She pulled the flashlight from her pocket and scanned the ground. A dark form rose from the ground and she screamed. Every flashlight in the graveyard turned toward her. Light beams flickered over her. Over the ground, over the tombstones that stood between her and… whatever that was running away.
Rooted with fear, she trained the light to see into the dark. A limb lay a few feet away. It had evidently snapped and fallen to the ground. A widow maker, they called those kind of tree limbs. They may not look dangerous on the ground, but a knock in the head would knock you dead.
A cold case murder with 1920s history and a vintage Ouija board. What could go wrong?
Will this story make your hair stand on end?
Four friends find history (and murder) in their home town
Will this story make your hair stand on end?
“You wouldn’t think twice about the Ouija board if not for that movie,” Rian offered. “People weren’t afraid of sharks until, Jaws. No one looked twice at birds until Hitchcock went all psycho on Tippi Hedren. And it wasn’t until they found the Ouija board in the attic that--”
Zelda threw up her hands to interrupt. “Nope! Don’t even say
“You wouldn’t think twice about the Ouija board if not for that movie,” Rian offered. “People weren’t afraid of sharks until, Jaws. No one looked twice at birds until Hitchcock went all psycho on Tippi Hedren. And it wasn’t until they found the Ouija board in the attic that--”
Zelda threw up her hands to interrupt. “Nope! Don’t even say it.”
Rian grinned. “Touchy subject.”
Zelda narrowed her eyes.
“It sounds like you had an unfriendly experience with the Ouija board. You should share it with us,” Genna urged. “Maybe you have a teenage memory you want to get off your chest. Do enlighten us.”
“No.” Zelda crossed her arms across her chest. “I do not.”
“People have been talking to the dead for a long time in more ways than one,” Genna said. “Haven’t they Amy?”
“How would I know?” She shot back. “I don’t talk to spirits. I don’t see ghosts. I don’t know anything about that.”
“We know,” Genna said and smiled. It seemed genuine even if a bit gloating. “You aren’t psychic, and you can’t read minds. You aren’t clairvoyant. You can’t channel wisdom or move anything with your mind. We know all that. But you do dream things that aren’t there and that is what? Telepathetic. Isn’t that what you call it?”
