The game is murder at the Mystery Beach Hotel.
When Camelia Collins meets her old college friend Anne Pine for a murder mystery weekend at the coast, death becomes more than a game.
Accompanied by her ghost cat companion Soji, Camelia begins to discover clues that have nothing to do with the role-playing storyline. A lurking stranger spies on Camelia from the house next door. A vengeful spirit haunts the hotel. A winter storm rages outside, threatening the old building, while a murderer roams the halls, threatening those within.
Will Camelia's keen senses and Soji's feline wiles be enough to catch the killer before they kill again?
Character Guest Post - Bruce, Ghost Cat of the Mystery Beach Hotel
I don’t know what I can tell you. I’m a cat; I don’t dwell in the past. I was alive, then I was dead; then I was back again, but different. They tell me that now I am a ghost.
For many seasons, I was a hotel cat who lived in comfort with three squares and snacks each day. I had my pick of numerous chairs, sofas, and beds in the grand old building. Since the place included a big room called a lobby, another where the humans ate that always smelled of dinner, and many, many sleeping areas, I had quite a choice.
Most of the humans came and went so I never got to know them well, but I was a gregarious cat and made friends easily. As long as they had a good scent, I gave them a chance. Anyone who “smelled” bad to me, I avoided like the vacuum cleaner.
Then there were the humans who were there all the time, females of an older age, all pleasant and indulgent of my many whims. The one called Isla seemed to be in charge, seeing to her subserviates like a mama cat. Another rolled around in a chair of her own, and sometimes I would sit on her lap and roll with her—that was fun! Still another, my closest ally, was quiet and kept to herself, especially when there were other humans about. That was when I would hunker down in the bed on her office desk. Someone else occupies that bed now that I am a ghost, a substantial orange boy named Winston, but it’s fine with me, since in my spirit form, I can go where I please and no walls can hold me.
Every so often, the place fills up with humans who put on fancy clothing and hang out together telling scary stories. Isla tells most of the stories, guiding the others to participate. It’s called a Murder Mystery Weekend. They pretend someone is killed and then do their best to figure out who did it. It’s a silly game from a feline point of view. Why any sentient being would kill another dead is beyond my comprehension. Granted, cats fight each other over such things as territory or mating rights, but kill? Why? What would it accomplish? Ridiculous and cruel if you ask me, which you didn’t. Still, the humans seem to enjoy the game, because they keep playing it over and over, switching it up with different plots and themes.
But then something weird happened—two somethings, actually. The weekend started out the same as always, with the arrival of the houseguests. A housewife, a couple of old females, a mother and her kit—I mean son, a family, etc. No one really stood out until this one lady arrived—Camelia she was called. She seemed to be in her seventh decade and possibly her third or fourth life. She had come to reunite with her friend who was about the same age, though that one seemed to have used up more of her lives than the other. That was all well and good. Winston took a liking to her. Winston is a tabby of discerning character, so I didn’t give her another thought.
Then I had the surprising realization that the Camelia person was not alone. I’m not talking about her human friend either. Camelia had been accompanied by a spirit, another ghost cat like me!
All cats become spirits once they conclude their final life, and after bidding farewell to their families, most continue across the Rainbow Bridge to await their reunion with those they hold dear. Some, however, linger on this earthly plateau even though our humans can no longer see us. I am one of those. I love this place, this hotel with its vast rooms and scrumptious smells. The cozy fire that burns in the winter and the fresh ocean breeze through the windows when the weather warms—I’m not ready to leave, so I remain.
Then, out of the blue, there was another. Her name was Soji, and she was the seventh black kitten of a seventh black kitten. She told me that was why her Camelia could see and hear her. Suddenly I wondered if Camelia would be able to sense me as well.
Turns out she could, much to her shock and surprise. But she was nice about it, accepting me as one of her own.
Soji and her sighted cohabitor were surprise number one. Number two was the murder of one of the guests. Unlike the fake killings that are part of the events, this was a real murder with blood and death and everything. It created quite a stir among the humans and seemed totally unexpected. Still, what did they think would happen when they played at murder with unabashed glee?
Things fell to pieces after that. Though I wasn’t concerned—I hadn’t cared for the victim and felt no pain at their demise—Soji was afraid for her Camelia. She enlisted my help to watch over her, and I did my best between naps and prowling. Then another thing occurred to set the hotel guests aflutter. It was the manifestation of a third ghost, except this one wasn’t a cat. This one was human.
It wasn’t news to me that the old hotel was haunted by a human ghost. Of course I knew, as did Winston. Soji sensed it from the moment she slipped across the threshold. Spirits sense spirits. That’s just how it is. Humans, on the other hand, spend lifetimes trying to convince themselves that nothing exists beyond what they can perceive with their own limited senses. There are a few rare exceptions. Soji’s Camelia was one.
So, living cats, ghost cats, ghost humans, and a dead body. The story continues, but to say more would ruin it for those who like to start at the start. Thankfully my author wrote it all down. Read the book to find out what happens next.
About Mollie Hunt:
Cat Writer Mollie Hunt is the award-winning author of two cozy series, the Crazy Cat Lady Mysteries and the Tenth Life Mysteries. Her Cat Seasons Sci-Fantasy Tetralogy features extraordinary cats saving the world. Mollie also released a cat-themed COVID memoir. In her spare time, she pens a bit of cat poetry as well.
Mollie is a member of the Oregon Writers’ Colony, Sisters in Crime, the Cat Writers’ Association, Willamette Writers, and Northwest Independent Writers Association (NIWA). She lives in Portland, Oregon with her husband and a varying number of cats.
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