Gone With the Ghost (Murder By Design, book 1) by Erin McCarthy
Date of Publication: May 23, 2017
Blurb
Bailey Burke has had a rough six months—it's not easy thinking your romantic overtures toward your best friend caused him to kill himself. Except that's exactly what happened. Ryan is very much dead, having shot himself with his own police-issued gun. Guilt and grief shouldn't cause hallucinations though, but six months after Ryan went into the ground, Bailey is freaking out and swearing his ghost is standing in her kitchen. Which he is…
Ryan claims he didn't commit suicide, but was murdered, and he needs Bailey to help him find his killer so he can earn his ticket out of purgatory. Which contrary to national opinion is not their hometown of Cleveland. Ryan's counting on a stairway to heaven, as opposed to wings, since that might be a little unmanly for a cop, even a dead one.
An expert in home design, with her own staging business, Bailey can tell you where to place a couch to improve flow and comfort, but solving a crime? Not her area of expertise. But with help from Ryan's former partner, Marner, she is unraveling the mystery of what happened to Ryan that day… and unwittingly putting herself in grave danger.
Ryan claims he didn't commit suicide, but was murdered, and he needs Bailey to help him find his killer so he can earn his ticket out of purgatory. Which contrary to national opinion is not their hometown of Cleveland. Ryan's counting on a stairway to heaven, as opposed to wings, since that might be a little unmanly for a cop, even a dead one.
An expert in home design, with her own staging business, Bailey can tell you where to place a couch to improve flow and comfort, but solving a crime? Not her area of expertise. But with help from Ryan's former partner, Marner, she is unraveling the mystery of what happened to Ryan that day… and unwittingly putting herself in grave danger.
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Q & A with Erin McCarthy
How did you come up with the idea for this story?
This was a book I started working on five years ago and abandoned because no on in New York publishing wanted to buy it (they thought it was too quirky!) so I honestly can’t remember what spawned the idea originally.
Is there anything you find particularly challenging in your writing?
I struggle with never believing I’m done editing/improving it.
What are your current projects?
I am working on book three, ONCE UPON A GHOST, in the Murder By Design series, and a contemporary romance, HEAT, which is book three in my South Beach Bodyguards series. I also have a pen name I write erotic thrillers under and I’m launching a new series there, so always busy!
Tell us about your first book. What would readers find different about the first one and your most recent published work?
Oh, wow, who knows? LOL. I’ve written 70 books now! My first was a collection of super sexy romance novellas. Gone With The Ghost is a humorous romantic mystery. Over the years I’ve written vampires, a race track series, dark, light, sexy, sweeter, New Adult. I like to try new things constantly, but at the heart of every story I believe the language, the voice, are the same.
Is there a message in your novel that you want readers to grasp?
In a humorous way (yes, that’s possible), I touched on processing grief in Gone With The Ghost. Everyone deals with grief differently.
Does music play any type of role in your writing?
I always listen to music when I write.
Are experiences based on someone you know, or events in your life? Oh geez, not in this book, fortunately, since it’s a murder/suicide mystery. In the second book in the series, SILENCE OF THE GHOST, the mystery revolves around a killer who is copying The Torso Murders of the 1930s, and my uncle’s brother found one of the decapitated victims in 1938 when he was fourteen years old. So we have a weird family connection there.
What books have influenced your life most?
I love the classics, Austen and the Bronte sisters.
Can you share a little of your current work with us?
Once Upon A Ghost by Erin McCarthy, Murder By Design #3
When I made my way through the family room, I was drawn to the back sliders to check out the view. I decided to go out on the deck because we needed to make sure it was cleaned up since the lake was such a selling point. Other than a fresh coat of stain the deck was in decent shape and the crisp October air felt amazing after the stale air of the house. I was wearing designer pumps I had indulged in after my “Put It Where?” business really took off, which wasn’t ideal for wandering down onto the grass but I saw several Adirondack chair facing the water and if I wasn’t mistaken, I saw a man sitting in one of them.
If that was Cezar Wozniak I needed to introduce myself. We had only spoken on the phone. “Mr. Wozniak? Hi, it’s Bailey Burke. I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you were home.” I picked my way carefully across the grass as I called out in a loud enough voice for him to hear me.
There was no response. Starting to wonder if my eyes were betraying me and I was trying to talk to an inflatable water toy, I came around the side of the chair.
And screamed.
Holy Moses, that was no water toy. It was a dead man. Eyes wide open, looking waxy and stiff. He was shirtless, and wearing colorful shoes, a beer on the armrest next to him, like he had been enjoying the recent spat of warm autumn weather. Until someone shot him. His entire chest was covered in dried blood. I’m not a fan of blood. I mean, probably most people aren’t, but it makes me feel lightheaded and hot. I stumbled backwards, twisting my ankle when my heel sank into the grass. “Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God,” I chanted.
Then because I was raised Catholic and could virtually feel my Irish grandmother cracking me on the back of the head I did the sign of the cross in front of Murder Man and high-tailed it out of there. I tried to look of any natural reason for someone to have a hole in his chest that resembled fresh ground beef but I couldn’t. I was pretty sure the likelihood of an alien creature bursting from his chest wasn’t as high as him having been pumped full of bullets.
Fingers trembling I dialed 911 and powerwalked my ass through that house and straight to my compact SUV. I was explaining what I had seen to the dispatcher as I climbed in and locked all the doors. That blood looked like it had been dry for at least a few hours, if not overnight, but I wasn’t taking any chances. I slumped down in my seat and murmured replies softly to the person on the phone.
“Ma’am, I cannot hear you,” the man said. “I need you to speak up louder and explain to me what happened.”
“I found some guy dead in an Adirondack chair.” I wasn’t sure why the type mattered, but I tend to speak in design terms even when its irrelevant, a habit my mother finds intensely irritating.
“He’s dead? How do you know that? You need to check to see if he’s breathing.”
“He’s not breathing!” I whispered urgently. “He has a lot of blood on his chest and his eyes are open and he’s not moving.”
“What is the address?”
I fumbled to access my notes on my iPad, still hunched down. If death was coming at me, I didn’t want to see it. I read the dispatcher the house address off of my tablet.
“They will be there shortly, ma’am, but I need you to stay on the phone.”
I kind of wanted to just throw my car in reverse and get the heck out of there but I knew that the cops would not feel too kindly about that behavior. It might actually make them suspicious of me and while anyone who knew me would know how ludicrous the idea that I would shoot someone was, the cops in this country setting wouldn’t care that I hated the sight of blood, and was slightly (okay maybe more like above average) obsessed with cleanliness. “Okay.”
“How do you know the victim? Do you know his name?”
“I’m not sure. This house belongs to Cezar Wozniak and he hired me to stage his house but I’ve never met him.” I heard sirens in the distance and I breathed a sigh of relief. “The police sound like they’re on their way.”
“That’s an ambulance, not the police.”
Was he for real? “I told you the guy is dead! I know the cops here with a crime scene crew.” I had a brief stint as an evidence tech when I was younger and unwilling to admit that I am squeamish. My initial career choice had been inspired by both wanting to please my mother and Ryan Conroy, my cop friend I had been crushing on at the time. Now I am smart enough to understand there is no shame in preferring quartz countertops to crime scenes.
The dispatcher sounded put out with me. “Did you shoot this man?” he asked.
Crap. Now he thought I was the crazy with a gun. “No, of course not!”
I decided to just hang up on him, knowing that it would force him to dispatch police as well as the ambulance. In minutes the property was overrun by emergency responders and I was describing what I had seen. I stood in the driveway hugging myself, expecting to see the yellow tape being unrolled any second. Instead a man wearing sunglasses who had the walk of a man in charge came up to me and asked me to describe again what I had seen.
I did. He rubbed his jaw. “Miss Burke, there is no dead body on that back deck.”
How can readers discover more about you and your work?
Instagram: authorerinmccarthy
Or sign up for my newsletter! http://www.erinmccarthy.net/newsletter-2/
Do you have a special time to write? How is your day structured writing-wise?
I write from 10-3 every day. I’m boring and structured.
When you start a book, do you already have the whole story in your head or is it built progressively?
I have a vague outline and then I progressively fill in the blanks. I don’t recommend this. It’s a frustrating way to write.
When did you first consider yourself a writer?
First grade. I wrote a paranormal romance with a witch for a heroine. ;)
Will you write more about these characters?
There are at least three! We’ll see if the series continues. I would love to write more.
About Erin McCarthy
USA Today and New York Times Bestselling author Erin McCarthy first published in 2002 and has since written over seventy novels and novellas in teen fiction, new adult romance, paranormal, and contemporary romance. Erin is a RITA finalist and an ALA Reluctant Young Reader award recipient, and is both traditionally and indie published.
Find Erin McCarthy Online
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