Part-time matchmaker Lizzie Chandler likes helping people find love, but she draws the line at working with murderers. 74-year-old Ben Turner insists that he didn’t kill his three wives and that they died because of a curse. Lizzie isn’t buying that story.
She and her private investigator boss, Josh Alexander, are determined to uncover the truth about the dead wives. But the more they learn about Ben’s past, the more it looks like he might really be cursed.
Throw in one cartoon-watching Yorkie, two pint-sized senior citizens who can’t stay out of trouble, and a matchmaking client that doesn’t want to find her Mr. Right, and Lizzie’s in for an unplanned adventure…which concludes with a late night trip to the graveyard to remove a curse that she’s not sure exists.
When I first started writing, I was quite clueless. (I still am, to be honest!) With Doesn’t Take a Crystal Ball, I just wrote and wrote. It ended up being a really long book. I had to figure out where to cut some scenes.
I decided to cut out the calls Lizzie received from potential clients. I’m going to post those calls – as well as some new ones – on this blog.
Here is one deleted call:
“Hi. Is this Lizzie?”
“Yes, it is.”
“My name is Torie. You left a flyer on my windshield.”
This was great. Another potential client. Things were looking up. “Hi, Torie. I’m glad you called.”
“If I understand your flyer correctly, you’re a psychic. Am I right?”
“I do have the ability to sense certain things when it comes to love.”
“My situation might be a little different from your usual cases,” Torie said.
Lizzie braced herself for what was likely going to be a strange request. “Different can be good,” she told Torie in a cheerful tone. “It adds variety and keeps business from getting boring.”
“I want you to help me find a lost love.”
“You mean like a missing person?”
Torie’s love was sort of missing. That definitely could be considered different. “Have you contacted the police?” Lizzie asked.
“No. I doubt they can help me in a case like this.”
“I work for a private investigation agency. Maybe my boss could help.”
“I doubt that, too.”
“Torie, maybe you should tell me more about your lost love.”
“Allen’s a wonderful guy. Handsome, kind, smart. I love him,” Torie gushed.
“Well, why did he leave you?”
“He didn’t have a choice.”
“He’s not in prison, is he? There’s nothing Lizzie’s Love Connections can do in a situation like that.”
“Of course not. Allen is not a criminal.”
This was really strange. “Torie, since you know so much, how is it you don’t know where Allen is?”
“Oh, I know where he is. I just can’t contact him.”
“Where exactly is Allen?” Lizzie asked a bit cautiously.
“You can find him at the corner of Dargan and Belton.”
That location was vaguely familiar. Lizzie thought about it for a few seconds. “Isn’t the corner of Dargan and Belton…”
“A cemetery? Yes, it is.” Torie said helpfully.
“I told you this was not going to be your usual case.”
“Is Allen an undertaker or grave digger?” Lizzie really hoped that he was.
“No. Allen’s dead. I need you to conduct a séance so I can talk to him.”
“I’m sorry, Torie. I don’t do séances.”
“Please. I’m willing to pay extra.”
“It’s not that I don’t want to help you.” Actually, that was part of it. Talking to dead people. Was Torie insane? “Contacting the dead is not within the scope of my abilities.” Lizzie was very grateful for that fact.
“Do you know anyone that does have that ability? One of your psychic friends maybe?”
What did Torie think? That there was this big group of psychics living in Ravenside? Or maybe that Lizzie had a string of psychics on speed dial?
“I don’t know anyone who can help you with your situation, Torie. I wish you luck though.”
“Thanks anyway,” Torie said and ended the call.
Lizzie lowered the phone and stared at the screen in disbelief. When she’d conceived the idea of her business, she never considered the possibility that she’d be asked to hook someone up with the nonliving. Maybe she should’ve done some research.
Image courtesy of iosphere at FreeDigitalPhotos.net