Dead Men Do Tell Tales: An Ashlynn Acosta Intuitive Discoveries Mystery

Copyright © 2013 Fran Kramer.

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ISBN: 978-1-4525-8002-9 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4525-8003-6 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2013914841

Balboa Press rev. date: 08/26/2013

Contents

Preface

Acknowledgements

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Reader’s Guide

For the young and young at heart who have the courage to study and learn from their dreams and intuition.

PREFACE

W hile studying intuition under Dr. Henry Reed, Director of The Edgar Cayce Institute of Intuitive Studies, I came across interesting applications for practical intuitive problem solving. I learned that there are indeed persons who have developed their remote viewing abilities, to the point that they can help police track down lost evidence or find missing persons and dead bodies.

I knew from my previous work with dreams that intentional use of dreams to problem solve can also produce similar results, so it came as no surprise for me to find out that there are real persons who help solve crimes with dreams. These uses of intuitive knowing take the old truism trusted by many police officers and detectives of following your gut instincts to a whole new level, and significantly add to the repertoire of a detective’s conventional methods like deductive reasoning and observation.

Because many people, both young and old, might find solving a crime through dreamwork a bit hard to believe even though it is only an additional extension of intuitive ability, I thought it would be interesting to write a mystery story where a teen, Ashlynn Acosta, does just that—despite what her conventional detective father thinks. She helps solve the crime based on the clues she gets in dreams and remote viewing, using only genuine and commonly used dreamwork and meditation methods she has learned from a mentor. In doing so, she not only helps a dear friend wrongly accused of a crime but also comes to appreciate and acknowledge her own unique and controversial abilities.

The idea is not to write about magical skills, but to show how common intuitive traits that are so often misunderstood as weird and unconventional can be developed and used for the common good. The Reader’s Guide in the back of the book is meant to help the young and the young at heart explore their own inner abilities to develop both a deeper understanding of their world and a greater capacity to serve others’ needs.

While the dreamwork and intuitive methods used by Ashlynn are authentic and have proven effective in resolving many kinds of issues, the story and all its characters are fictitious. If any of the characters in the book, or any group of characters, resembles real life people in the Gloucester Police Department or at Gloucester High School, the similarity is entirely accidental.

I placed the story in Massachusetts because I know Cape Ann well from having lived on the North Shore for about twenty years. Along with a rich history, the area is famous for many of the elements in my story: a diverse ethnic population, witch hunts, fighting fishermen, Yankee ingenuity and the tradition of standing up for all that one holds true.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

T his book is the result of much encouragement and help by professionals and friends.

First, I would like to thank my fellow members of the Writers’ Circle at the Osher Lifelong Learning Institute (OLLI), University of Hawaii at Manoa, for reviewing and critiquing the book over a long period of time. In particular, a big mahalo deservedly goes to Dr. Rebecca Goodman, Director of OLLI, for all the help she gave me in big and small ways.

Other friends with expertise in psychology, especially Linda Merrill, Ph.D., helped by reading the manuscript to check the accuracy of portraying a teenager reacting to grief and working with dreams. These friends also had good suggestions for strengthening the storyline.

Then much appreciation goes to another friend who is the artist of the front cover, Christine Soltys. She also helped greatly with the editing of the manuscript.

Last, but certainly not least, an important person I want to thank is my mentor, Henry Reed, Ph.D., Director of The Edgar Cayce Institute for Intuitive Studies. The intuitive meditation used in the story and in the Reader’s Guide is a modified version of the Intuitive Heart Meditation™ he developed after years of research and testing. I thank him for reviewing and approving its use in the manuscript, and for the suggestions he made. Also, what I initially learned about remote viewing, I learned from him.

CHAPTER 1

HAUNTING DREAMS

On a misty night in an empty parking lot, a lone male figure stumbles into the eerie yellow spill of a street lamp. He falls clutching his chest and slowly picks himself up. He trudges a few steps farther and then falls again. This time the distressed man can’t get up; he just painfully rolls onto his back while a bloodstain slowly expands over the front of his gray and white striped shirt. From the night’s shadows, someone yells in a raspy voice, He’s dead!

W ith a start, 13-year-old Ashlynn Acosta shot up from a deep sleep. Not another nightmare! she groaned, shaking her head and pulling her shoulder-length black hair from her face. It seemed so real. I know that Maeve told me not all dreams of dying mean someone is going to die… but that dream was all too real! Groggily, she asked herself, What could it mean?

Now, Ashlynn couldn’t go back to sleep. She tossed and turned, trying not to wake her yellow cat, Butter, who was curled up at her feet. Maeve might know, Ashlynn thought, She knows a lot about dreams.

For a long while, Ashlynn was afraid to tell anybody about dreams like this one, especially after her father told her to forget about the nightmares of her mother dying. However, she couldn’t forget about them, try as she may. They became scary secrets she carried around until the day when she was able to confide in Maeve who explained that such nightmares often come during or after times of stress.

Ashlynn knew hers did. In the very first nightmare of a series, Ashlynn saw the fatal car crash that later in the week killed her mother. On the morning of her mother’s death, Ashlynn begged her mother not to drive but did not tell her about the dream. From her bedroom window Ashlynn had already seen the snow packed on the streets and could hear the howling wind heralding an ice storm blowing in from the North Atlantic. Maybe she should have told her mother about the car crash nightmare—it was something she later regretted not doing and continually questioned herself if she did the wrong thing. Her mother, who usually paid attention to dreams, might have listened. Ashlynn’s nightmare eerily became reality when on the way to the grocery store the car slid on the ice and smashed into a concrete wall. Her mom was gone.

Ashlynn rubbed her eyes as if to rub away the memory of that dream. She dazedly stumbled out of bed, and walked to her bedroom window. To her right she saw the rooftops of her hometown, Gloucester, and the Massachusetts coastline stretching beyond, which led to the faint skyline of Boston in the far distance. In front of her was the vast Atlantic Ocean. Usually the panoramic view cheered her, but this morning, the dark clouds hanging over a somber gray sea depressed her.

She went down to the kitchen; glad to see her father was making the breakfast. Each morning they took turns with this chore, now that her mother was gone and her older sister, Eileen, was off to college.

Ashlynn’s father, Detective Paul Acosta, stood at the stove with a kitchen towel flung over his shoulder. The red flowered towel always looked strange next to his blue Gloucester police uniform. For Ashlynn, it seemed to represent the way he was trying to act like mother and father. Expertly, her father flipped the scrambled eggs in the pan.

Smells good, Dad. I’m glad you can cook, Ashlynn said, trying to make conversation. In truth, she was glad he could cook, especially his Portuguese meat and gravy dishes like Molho Beef, because she wasn’t very good in the kitchen. Ashlynn preferred to stick her head in a book while Eileen had followed their mother into the kitchen to learn how to cook.

You’re slow getting up this morning, her father remarked.

I had a nightmare, Ashlynn said, yawning, trying to sound very lackadaisical in order to hide her uneasiness. This dream was scary and she couldn’t just forget it and not talk about it. That would make her feel both lonely and scared. So she decided to appeal to her father’s job. It’s right down your alley, Dad.

What? her father asked, turning to face her.

You know that parking lot next to Gloucester City Hall? Ashlynn asked to heighten her policeman father’s interest. He was always aware of traffic and parking conditions.

Yeah? he replied, wondering what his daughter was going to say next. He never could guess with her. She had a lively mind that was always jumping here and there.

I dreamt that someone died or was killed there—at least I think it was there. It looked like that parking lot. I actually saw the guy go down with blood flowing out of his body.

Her father answered somewhat dryly, Must have been the green peppers I put in the salad last night. He didn’t believe, or didn’t want to believe, that dreams meant much of anything, other than being an indication of bad digestion. As he dished out the eggs onto her plate, he just said, Sweetie, don’t worry about it.

Oh, Dad, Ashlynn sighed in frustration as she picked up her fork. You always say that when I talk about a dream! Sometimes talking to her father was next to impossible. Ashlynn wondered that if her mother had lived, would she have fared any better talking to her? Her mother didn’t listen to her that fatal morning. What was it about grownups? Most were so set in their ways that they didn’t seem interested in listening to new ideas or suggestions. But at least the eggs were done just right, the way only her Dad could make them with tasty bits of Portuguese sausage!

I thought you’d be interested in a dream about somebody being killed, Ashlynn commented before gulping some cranberry juice. After all, you are a police detective!

I don’t have time to worry about fantasy crimes, her father remarked. I see enough of the real thing every day. That’s plenty to deal with! He paused, and then added, Although, thank heavens, it’s been a while since we had a murder here in Gloucester.

Ashlynn picked at her toast as she said, Uh… I just hope my dream doesn’t come true, uh, like, you know the dream I had before Mom died. Ashlynn hesitated saying this, half expecting her father to tell her to forget about the dreams, like he did before.

Instead, he said thoughtfully, You’re like your mother that way, as he slowly sat down at the breakfast table to join her.

In what way? Ashlynn was curious to know. Her interest now peaked. As the years passed, her mother’s memory was fading—something Ashlynn dreaded. She was so young when her mom died, what could she have known about her mother? What she remembered about her mother was what a young kid would remember, that her mother gave soft, warm hugs and spoke in a gentle voice. But now, being older, she wondered about things like what her mother liked to do for fun or what she held to be important. But there were so few memories, mostly just a blank space in her mind. So when her father dropped a pearl like this about her mother—and he didn’t often talk about her—Ashlynn held her breath to catch it.

Her father replied, still in