Today we have a sneak peek from the new book by Madison Johns: Grannies, Guns and Ghosts.
In the sequel to Armed and Outrageous, Grannies, Guns and Ghosts, Agnes Barton and sidekick, Eleanor Mason, return. This time around there is a paranormal theme as East Tawas, Michigan, is overrun with ghost sightings. Even the death of a recent heir to the Butler fortune is blamed on a ghost.
Agnes’ flame, Andrew Hart, is nowhere to be found. That is until he is spotted with a mysterious woman. Who is she and what is going on with Eleanor’s flame known only as Mr. Wilson? It is enough to shake any senior aged woman’s belief in romance to the core.
This book is available from Amazon, Amazon UK, and Smashwords.
Here is an excerpt from Grannies, Guns and Ghosts…
I rolled my eyes; following Eleanor’s directions, and drove up a drive that led to a well-manicured lawn of the Butler Mansion. I braked hard as I saw a group of seniors surrounding a man lying on the ground.
I narrowed my eyes. “They called us before the sheriff or the state police?”
“Yup, I told them to wait a spell,” El said.
“You do know that this is potentially a crime scene, right? The law should be here before everybody else is called.”
Eleanor fidgeted with her fingers. “They’ll shoe everyone off and we’ll never get to find out what happened. It’s not my fault folks trust us more than that lame-brained sheriff.”
I didn’t much care for Sheriff Peterson myself, but I do have some respect for law enforcement. Of course, I much preferred Trooper Sales to him, but it didn’t matter who I liked or didn’t like. I need to be a law-abiding citizen, and that means securing the crime scene at this point.
El and I got out real quick and approached the hysterical crowd.
“Oh my God, my poor husband is dead!” a woman’s voice wailed. It belonged to fiery redhead poured into a tight, strumpet-red dress, her breasts nearly popping out. “I can’t b-believe this, oh God why did you have to take my husband on our wedding day.”
“Wedding day!” Eleanor shouted and shuffled her feet as the woman turned to look at her.
“I’m Agnes Baron P.I. and this here is my assistant, Watson.” I thumbed in El’s direction.
El’s eyes narrowed. “That’s fine, Watson is way smarter than Sherlock Holmes ever was.”
“Have you ever read Sherlock Holmes dear? If you had… oh forget it. We’re here to investigate.”
“Are you Miss Marple?” a woman dressed in a maid uniform asked me inquisitively.
I smoothed my hair back. “I fancy myself more of a Jessica Fletcher.”
“She’s such a know-it-all, Aggie, you don’t want to be her,” Eleanor laughed.
“I’m certainly not trying to be Miss Marple or any other fictional character. I’m the real deal.” I took an elegant stance like I was posing for a magazine. “I have never even read an Agatha Christie book before,” I insisted.
