Carolyn Hart— New York Times bestselling author of Ghost to the Rescue —returns with a new Bailey Ruth Ghost Novel in which one woman shatters the glass ceiling...with a little help from beyond. Bailey Ruth Raeburn’s latest mission is to guide the spirit of a deceased young man named Jimmy to the next life. But Jimmy is determined to watch over his still-living girlfriend, Megan. As if being haunted by her late boyfriend wasn’t enough, Megan is dealing with an arrogant, manipulative senior partner who threatens to fire Megan’s vulnerable secretary if Megan accepts a partnership at another law firm.   Since Jimmy refuses to move on while Megan is being blackmailed, Bailey Ruth agrees to help him. But after the partner turns up dead and Megan is found at the crime scene, Bailey Ruth and Jimmy must uncover a killer before the love of Jimmy’s life is ordered to spend a lifetime behind bars… “Bailey Ruth is someone you’d like to have known in life and would love to have watching your back from Heaven...The mystery is light hearted, fun, and as always, a good read.”—Kings River Life Magazine “Charming...this cleverly plotted tale will keep readers guessing until the end.”— Publishers Weekly More Praise for Carolyn Hart, Winner of Multiple Agatha, Anthony, and Macavity Awards and the Bailey Ruth Ghost Novels “Hart’s work is both utterly reliable and utterly unpredictable.”—Charlaine Harris, #1 New York Times bestselling author “One of the most popular practitioners of the traditional mystery.”— The Cleveland Plain Dealer “Bailey Ruth and Wiggins will delight readers who prefer their mysteries light and seasoned with wit and the supernatural...Hart’s vision of Heaven is a hoot.”— Boston Globe “Hart’s amusing and vivacious ghostly sleuth puts her invisibility, her gusto and her sharp mind to good use in her latest outing.”— Kirkus Reviews “Sure to charm even ardent materialists.”— Publishers Weekly (starred review) An accomplished master of mystery, Carolyn Hart is the New York Times bestselling author of sixty novels of mystery and suspense including the Bailey Ruth Ghost Novels and the Death on Demand Mysteries. Her books have won multiple Agatha, Anthony, and Macavity awards. She has also been honored with the Amelia Award for significant contributions to the traditional mystery from Malice Domestic and was named a Grand Master by the Mystery Writers of America. One of the founders of Sisters in Crime, Hart lives in Oklahoma City, where she enjoys mysteries, walking in the park, and cats. She and her husband, Phil, serve as staff—cat owners will understand—to brother and sister brown tabbies. Chapter 1 Abright yellow sheet, eight inches wide, six and one-half inches deep, sprouted in my right hand. Excitement propelled me from a hammock strung between two thirty-foot-tall palms. I luxuriated in the warmth of soft white sand beneath my bare feet. Out in tranquil translucent water, Bobby Mac completed a cast from the deck of the Serendipity, our cabin cruiser. Perfect beauty on a perfect day. If that sounds idyllic, Heaven provides every pleasure. Whatever vista we most enjoy, there we are. Steep slopes with fresh snow, a bustling visit to a Heavenly Harrods (oh my, that royal blue body-sculpted sleeveless knit dress), reverie in dappled shade beneath live oak trees. Or perhaps it is conversation you enjoy; Dorothy Parker's wit is always pointed and poignant, Abigail Adams's pithy comments intrigue, Socrates provides gentle queries. Eagerly I scanned the telegram: Come soonest. Spectral scandal brewing. Wiggins I waggled the telegram to catch my husband's attention. Braced against the pull of a fish, Bobby Mac shouted, "Wiggins? Good for you. Have fun." A summons from Wiggins. What could be more Heavenly? Telegram in the age of digital connections? Heavenly? Dorothy Parker? Abigail Adams? Socrates? Wiggins? Perhaps I should explain. If we haven't met before, I am Bailey Ruth Raeburn, late of Adelaide, Oklahoma. Late as in deceased. Late as in dearly departed. Late ever since Bobby Mac and I went down to the depths when a storm struck the Gulf and sank the Serendipity. If contemplating spirits and Heaven makes you uneasy, it isn't my intention to distress you. Unequivocally real are a pump jack's rhythmic chug as it pulls oil to the surface, a moose on a hillside, bacteria in a petri dish. Equally real are gossamer thoughts, the caress of a breeze, the memory of a kiss. From there, the imaginative understand there are dimensions beyond the material world. That's where I come in. Or from. I am pleased to inform you that I have the honor to serve as an emissary from Heaven's Department of Good Intentions, returning to earth to help someone in trouble. Do I sense amusement? A dismissal of the possibility of Heaven? Pause, please. Recall an instant when joy suffused you. Perhaps you heard a haunting melody or someone you loved stepped into the room or dawn splashed the sky wi