Death Coach: Death Coach, #1

By Sandra Wickham

Amy knows better than most, death follows the dead. After a traumatic teenage experience, she has denied her ability to communicate with the dead. Until now.

 

When one of her coaching clients kills herself under suspicious circumstances, the voices demand to be heard. Her cousin, Carme, a teenager with Down syndrome and an expert in most things not living, helps Amy navigate the ghostly mystery.

 

Amy is forced do things she swore she would never do: speaking with the dead and recruiting the aid of a far too handsome meditation teacher who is also her online nemesis.

 

Amy will need to overcome her anxiety, past and deadly discoveries to save Carme's mom and keep her living clients from becoming dead ones.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Sandra Wickham
• Release date: Mar 30, 2023
• ISBN: 9781777705121

Sandra Wickham

To be filled later

Book preview

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Chapter One

The dead hadn’t talked to me for twenty years because I refused to let them, but the incessant buzzing in my ears meant they wanted to. They weren’t welcome here, never again.

Old fears threatened to overtake me, so I focused through the opening of our antique dressing screens at my cousin Carme. The dividers served to provide a reception area separate from my office and gave it a bohemian feel, lightening up the drab grey carpet and brick walls.

I forced myself to breathe. You want to be the coach? I asked my cousin. We could switch seats.

Naw. You’re awesome at it, Carme replied. Having Down syndrome gave her words a thicker accent, which she worked on by speaking slowly and clearly. I’m just here to look good. She flipped back her loosely curled hair. You’ll do great. She gave me an even bigger smile.

Today, Carme wore a long black skirt with an orange top, her light brown hair held back with a black-and-orange clip. It was a stealth Halloween outfit; she kept it subtle for my sake. Tomorrow, I would spend Halloween hiding with my cats in my warded apartment.

Thanks. My ears rang so badly, I winced and had to sit down.

Carme stood. Are you okay?

I nodded. Fine. Really.

Do you want me to call Mom?

No. I slowly stood again. Maybe. No. I’m fine. I didn’t want to pull Aunt Jodene from her shop at the busiest time of year for some ear-ringing.

Carme gave me a bit of side-eye but relented. Your new client will be here soon.

Potential client, I pointed out.

Think positive, she shot back.

For the first time in a long time, I had nerves about a meeting. This person could make a difference in steering my business toward a higher-paying clientèle.

My blouse and slacks were designer and combined well with my favourite black boots, perfect for a rainy October day in Vancouver. I hadn’t dyed my hair in a while and felt suddenly self-conscious about the brown roots glaring out from the blond. There wasn’t much I could do about it at the moment.

A woman walked through our door. Research told me this was my appointment, Heidi. About my age, early thirties, tall, she emitted a confident presence. She walked toward Carme, who had come out from behind her desk.

Heidi’s change in posture suggested she didn’t know how to react to Carme. I’m looking for Amy Cameron? Her tone hinted she wasn’t sure Carme would understand her.

Important client, I reminded myself. Plus, Carme could take care of herself. She was a competent seventeen-year-old who had dealt with people’s reactions to her all her life. She didn’t like when I jumped to her defence.

I walked out between the screens and my cousin pointed at me. That’s Amy. May I take your coat? Carme asked, with what I knew to be her most formal tone, then added an extra-polite smile. She hadn’t missed Heidi’s reaction to her.

No, thank you, Heidi replied, studying Carme closely.

I stuck my hand out. Hello, Heidi. I’m Amy.

Heidi took my hand in her gloved one. Nice to meet you.

I opened an arm toward the gap in the screen. Won’t you come in?

Our office wasn’t fancy, and though I had the money to move somewhere else, I felt at home here for many reasons. Sometimes in moments like this, however, I wished it was nicer.

Yes, thank you. Her brown high-heel boots thunked on the carpet. She didn’t remove her long, stylish coat as she sat down. We probably could’ve turned the heat up a little; I hadn’t thought of it. The office was a bit drafty. I’d been meaning to talk to Charles about getting better windows installed, but we were all busy.

A strong lavender smell wafted around me. I hoped it was her perfume and not a predecessor to the dead visiting. I worked my way around my desk and sat down.

It smells fabulous in here. Heidi tucked her expensive handbag beside her. For a moment, I thought she meant the lavender, but I could tell by her expression that wasn’t it. Only one glorious smell made people’s faces radiate bliss like that.

Yes, I replied. One of the advantages of being above a coffee shop. The Artful Cup; have you been in?

She shook her head. The Drive might have been below her usual standards. You should, I continued. Charles has the best coffee on the Drive. Possibly in all of Vancouver, maybe even all of the province.

Not only did I believe it, I would always promote him. I owed him big. When I started out, I met clients in his cafe until he’d offered me this space to rent.

Are those paintings from the cafe? She pointed at the art behind me.

Yes, his wife did those. His wife, whom I had coached and who had then left him.

I took a settling breath. You’re interested in working with me while you start a second business?

Yes. I’ve been following your blog since you exposed that event where you got scammed out of your money. I was impressed how you handled it. I’ve liked what you had to say on a lot of topics. I think you could help me.

Great, I replied. Those were dark times for me, losing a large chunk of money and fighting to expose those involved, but after many years, I made it out. I never wanted people to go through being scammed like I had and never wanted anyone to ever fear it with me. I decided I would be as transparent as possible in my career as a business and life coach. They would get the true me at all times. Turns out people liked it and it made me successful, which included only working with people I could truly help. We can discuss what you’re looking for from me and see if we would fit as coach and client.

I appreciate how you openly say you don’t have your act completely together. It’s real. Not like the others. She leaned forward, conspiratorially. But tell me. The feud with that meditation teacher, Nik, was that real? Or some sort of publicity stunt?

Two roads lay ahead of me. The first would take me down a path of defending myself, berating him and reliving the whole experience. The second had far less potholes and potential accidents. Sadly, it was real, I replied.

The office cell rang and Carme answered it. The smell of lavender overwhelmed me, churning my stomach.

Why don’t you tell me about the second business you’d like to— I stumbled over my words, distracted by Carme’s wide eyes. Her attempts at speaking kept being cut off. Heidi couldn’t see Carme without turning fully around.

Sorry, I said to Heidi. What areas do you think— I paused again as Carme grabbed her crystal necklace pendant with her whole fist, a habit when she was upset.

Heidi twisted around to watch Carme. Is she okay? she asked.

Fine. I said. What would you most like help with in your new business venture?

Carme took the phone away from her ear and came toward us with an apologetic but desperate expression. Her free hand grasped her necklace hard as she stood next to me.

Amy, sorry, Carme said, but you have to talk to them.

Would you excuse me for a moment? Heidi gave me a supportive yet curious nod.

I took the phone from Carme, who quickly walked back to her desk. The ringing in my ears increased. I pushed the phone forcefully against my ear.

Hello, this is Amy Cameron. How may I help you?

Help is the last thing I want from you. The voice belonged to an angry, gruff, older male.

I beg your pardon? I tried to remain cool and collected.

Our daughter would be alive if it weren’t for you, he shouted.

I’m sorry sir, I don’t know what you’re talking about.

You wouldn’t, would you? You fake, self-serving piece of crap. You killed our daughter, Mary.

I’d been about to end the call, until he mentioned her name. Mary? What do you mean? What’s happened?

Heidi grabbed her purse and pointed over her shoulder to the door. I’m just going to go, she whispered.

I started to tell her to stay, but she was already headed for the door. Carme did a quick wave good-bye as she left.

The man, Mary’s father, kept yelling insults while the ringing in my ears turned up, like an old refrigerator working overtime.

Please, tell me what happened. I tried to ignore my damn ears to focus on the extremely upset man on the other end of the line.

She’s gone, he said.

Mary is dead?

She is, came his answer, full of hot anger and grief so intense I found it hard to breathe. My beautiful daughter is gone and it’s all your fault.

My fault? What could he possibly be talking about? Was she in an accident?

Choked sobs cut off his next words, so I waited, anxiously. Mary had been a client until about a month ago, a young, intelligent and warm woman. She had big dreams to start her own business, all while finding her way after several failed relationships. She’d been grateful for my help and was well on her way to great things. The thought of her no longer existing hurt my entire being. Her hat. She’d left her hat and I’d put it away somewhere to get it to her. Now I would never do that. It felt impossible.

It wasn’t an accident. His words came out tight and forced. She killed herself.

My chest tightened and I sucked in a sharp breath. That couldn’t be right. Unfortunately, his anger and grief forced me to believe it to be true.

I’m so sorry for your loss, I said, aware it wasn’t adequate.

You should be, he snarled back. She left us a note. Told us everything. How you made her confused. Unhappy. She blamed you.

His words circled in my head for several breaths before coming to an uneasy rest. I don’t understand. My eyes burned hot with tears. I couldn’t fathom why she would blame me.

You as good as killed her, he said. I hope you burn in hell.

He hung up.

I lowered the phone and stared at it in disbelief. It had to be some kind of mistake. A prank. It didn’t make any sense. Mary had killed herself because of me? She’d been so happy the last several times we’d met, focused on a new career with a fresh outlook on relationships. Had her excitement been fake? A show? Had I missed it somehow?

Carme came to sit where Heidi had been. I told her everything from the side of the conversation she hadn’t heard. The ringing in my ears flared, like I was sitting inside an airplane engine. The lavender smell sharpened, assaulting my nose and my stomach.

Carme played with her necklace pendant. Should I cancel your clients for this afternoon?

No, I said too quickly, and she raised her eyebrows at me. No, I repeated slower. I’m okay. Really. I’m fine. Did I believe it? Was I fine?

Carme studied me like she didn’t believe me either. What about Heidi?

I let out a long exhale. I’ll call her. Do damage control. See if she’ll come in again.

How much had Heidi overheard? The accusation I’d killed Mary? Was I to blame for her death? Maybe Carme was right and I should cancel my clients for the afternoon. Maybe forever. A client I had coached for a better life had ended it. I needed space to think, needed to breathe. I also needed coffee and not just for the caffeine. It helped make the ringing in my ears go away.

Okay, cancel those appointments, I told Carme, admitting to her and myself I needed time off.

Hands shaky, I sent Liam a text to see if he was around. He lived and worked not far, and, as my best friend, was always good about meeting me when I needed it. I could use some of his positive vibes right now.

Carme finished her calls. All set, she said. I rescheduled them.

Thank you. My phone buzzed. Liam would meet us downstairs for his morning break.

A weighty smell of lavender surrounded me. The memory of a different smell, the one that preceded my stepfather’s terrifying visits, made me grip the arms of my chair.

My heart thumped, my breathing shallowed and my body became paralyzed. This was not the same, I told myself. It couldn’t be.

But it could be. Someone blamed me for their death; what better reason to come after me?

My ears rang so badly, my whole head hurt. The scent of lavender clouded me, so thick I could almost taste it. I got to my feet. Carme, we have to leave. Right now.

There was no denying it. There was a ghost in the office and I was pretty sure it wasn’t happy.

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Chapter Two

The smell didn’t follow us and I began to breathe a bit easier.

Carme let out a sad sigh as we descended the stairs. At least your other clients won’t know.

I hadn’t even thought of that. Not exactly the best advertisement for life coaching when your clients kill themselves.

Why won’t they know? I asked.

The police won’t tell anyone but family, Carme said. I saw it on a cop show.

Thanks, Carme.

She beamed. You’re welcome.

We went outside to the street through the nondescript glass door and turned left to the entrance to the cafe. Carme held the door open for me.

There was nothing as fabulous as walking into Charles’ Artful Cup cafe. It didn’t just smell like fresh-brewed coffee ready to wrap you in a comforting, loving embrace. It also held hints of baked goods, pencils, chalk and paper. It made all worries disappear. Usually.

Charles gave us a quick wave from behind the cash register. His son, Darren, also waved then went back to making coffees. In keeping with the season, they’d draped webs on the ceiling, complete with giant, fuzzy spiders. There were jack-o’-lanterns lined on top of the food display case. Some of the paintings on the wall even had a bit of web draped over their corners.

Midmorning, it wasn’t too busy, which was nice for my brain space right now. An older woman, around Charles’ age, sat at one of the tables with art paper on a spool. For as long as I could remember, I’d seen her in the cafe every morning, drawing. She had a pencil from the mug packed with art supplies and was focused on whatever it was she drew.

Four people sat at the high table in front of the chalk wall at the far end of the cafe, the most popular spot in the place. The chalk artwork had been redone recently, I didn’t know by who, but it was magnificent. A beautiful bouquet of flowers, no two quite the same, boasted bright yellows, dark blues, pink and lavender. I thought of the lavender smell from the office and shuddered.

Our turn came at the register. The creases on Charles’ face deepened from forehead to chin as he gave us a big smile. How are you ladies today?

We’re great, I lied, not wanting him to worry. We’ll take the usual and a latte macchiato for Liam.

Charles rang us up then flicked a hand at us. Go. Sit. I’ll bring it over.

Darren came over from his station and waved. He had new round wire glasses and a fresh haircut.

Your hair looks great, I told him. His natural blond colour was even nicer than what I had to pay for. He gave me a big smile.

Hey, Carme, he said, his words thicker than hers.

Hey, Darren. Carme smiled, but not her usual, genuine one.

Darren shuffled his feet, then gave another, smaller wave. See ya. He went back down the counter.

Carme and I sat in a booth along the front windows. What’s up with you? I think Darren likes you.

Yeah, she replied quietly. I know. But I don’t like him. Not like that.

Why not? You’ve always gotten along.

She held up her hand. Let me stop you there, she said with so much attitude, I knew I was in for it. You think because we both have Down syndrome, we should be a couple? She didn’t give me a chance to answer. He’s addicted to his phone, is obsessed with watching sports and doesn’t even play them. Carme herself was a Special Olympics medalist in swimming.

Liam slid in beside Carme. She didn’t have to move over. He was taller than us but also thinner. Hola, how are my favourite amigas doing? Carme grinned at him.

The ringing in my ears flared so badly, I couldn’t hear Carme anymore. I saw her lips moving, but everything became a melded racket of entangled noise. The smell of lavender cloaked me.

Are you okay? Carme’s voice reached me as the ringing eased off. After a couple deep breaths, I nodded.

Liam studied me. We met four years earlier when a few hundred of us showed up for a prepaid business weekend of seminars which never happened. During the battle to find the people who had ripped us off, we’d become friends. It was one of the best things to come out of the awful experience. That and my renewed determination to become a coach and help people.

He brushed his hand along the top of his cropped hair. He went to the barber more often than I went to the salon, keeping his dark hair shaved at the sides and only an inch or so at the top. So, what’s up?

Carme and I exchanged a glance while I tried to work up the words.

Liam leaned in. What the hell is going on?

Everyone in the cafe was minding their own business, but I leaned in as well, speaking as low as I could. One of my clients killed herself.

Liam sat straight up and swore loudly in Spanish. Most of the cafe now watched us. He gave them an apologetic wave, and heads turned back to their own tables.

He leaned back in. What are you talking about? he whispered.

It took me a moment to answer because my ears flared up again. I told him about the phone call and Mary. He stared at me for a few seconds, then reached across to touch both my forearms. He’d never met Mary, but you wouldn’t have known it from the sadness on his face.

I’m really sorry to hear that. You know this is not your fault, no matter what, right? Are you okay?

Carme leaned in to join us. She’s so not okay. But she will be.

They smiled at each other and then me. Great people around me made me a better person. Somehow, I’d been incredibly lucky in my family and friends.

Thanks, both of you, I said. Should I send flowers to the family? Or no?

Liam squeezed my arms again and sat back, using his eyes to let me know someone was coming from behind me. A heartbeat later, Charles’ oldest son, Ethan, tall, dark blond and far too cute for his own good, appeared at our table.

Greetings, he said with a nod to our table. He had an extra big smile for my cousin. Carme, what a great outfit. Business Halloween; I like it.

Carme instantly blushed, stared down at the table and muttered a thank-you.

Hi, Ethan, I said, to give her time to start breathing again. Visiting from Calgary?

He shook his head. Moved back, actually. I’ve been visiting my mother in the interior for a bit. He held out a hand toward me. Of course, you know all about that.

A pleasant smile returned to his face, but it was a shot at me and it landed. His mother, Charles’ wife, had been one of my first clients, and I’d helped her pursue