The Hanged Man by Jane Brookwood (EXCERPT)

The weather is cooling off up here in the northern hemisphere and the sequel to Practical Magic is in theatres too, so what better time to check out a new cozy mystery series featuring Tarot cards and a delicious tinge, if not more, of the supernatural?

Jane Brookwood’s The Hanged Man is the first novel in the Raven-verse Mystery series that’s named for the metaphysical shop owned by our heroine Fiona Miller. At The Raven, Fiona sells crystals, mixes teas and reads Tarot cards, alongside her cat and familiar Rosie. After doing a reading with Rosie that results in ominous portents, Fiona is already braced for the worst, even before she learns of the death of her long-lost best friend’s son. His body has been found in a manner eerily reminiscent of The Hanged Man card that Fiona only recently drew. Is it just a coincidence? Or a sign urging her to get involved with the investigation?

The town of Pineridge Hollow seems to have already made up its mind about the death, no matter what Fiona, Rosie or the Tarot cards have to say. As Fiona and her friends dig further into the town’s secrets, they’ll uncover long-held grudges and old money that would much rather its secrets stay buried, no matter the cost.

Read on for a scene-setting excerpt that reveals which cards Fiona drew in her initial reading! I took one look and went “Phew! Trouble is certainly brewing over there in Pineridge Hollow!”

~~~~~~~

“Ow!” Fiona tripped over the chair leg for the fifth time that morning. The slippery tea pouches spilled free from her sweaty grip, landing on the floor in an untidy sunburst. She shut her eyes and let out a long sigh, chin dropping to her chest. Patience, she told herself.

Rosie skidded into view with synchronous timing, batting a shiny pack of tea through the sunlit patterns cast by the lead-lined crystal panes, relics from another era. As Fiona bent over to retrieve her parcels, her cat raced past once more, catching a long strand of Fiona’s silver hair, and streaked off again, sending packages skittering into the far corners of the shop.

Fiona, already on her knees retrieving the bags, sat abruptly on her rump, legs sprawled onto the old wooden timbers. She was near the end of her rope and the day hadn’t yet begun. “Patience? Is this your lesson for me today?”

Rosie didn’t answer from her perch on the counter where she watched, imperious and enigmatic. Just then, a key sounded in the lock and the big, oaken door swung open to cast a long beam of sunlight across the shop floor highlighting the strange tableau.

“Umm…everything ok?” Elsie’s voice seemed to emerge from the wall of bags and packages being juggled in her overfull arms. Elsie Greene was the shop’s steward, fixer, and all-purpose Swiss army knife of a human being.

Fiona hoisted herself off the floor not quite sure she’d make it on the first try. With a heave she stuck the landing and approached the girl, grabbing the topmost boxes. Elsie followed, tiptoeing through the maze of bags scattered everywhere. “What happened here?” She couldn’t hold it in any longer.

The older woman turned and gave her a long look and then slid her eyes towards the still oblivious cat. Elsie’s eyebrows raised in amusement. She bit back a smile. This wasn’t their first altercation, not by a long stretch. Rosie had arrived, taken over, and never left. Bags and bundles landed haphazardly on the counter as Elsie bent and slipped Rosie a surreptitious wink. She grabbed an empty box to retrieve the packages off the floor. Co-conspirators to the last.

While Elsie restored some semblance of order, Fiona blew a strand of hair out of her eyes as she moved among the shelves of her metaphysical gift shop The Raven, neatening a display here, shifting an arrangement of crystals there. She liked to think she was adjusting their energetic field or their vibes, as she thought of them.

The sunbeams caught the crystals sitting on bleached wood shelves, sending dancing shards of light through the space, soothing Fiona’s prickly mood into some semblance of her usual calm good-humor. The Raven had a knack for soothing the savage beast, she thought, rightly. This cheered her further and soon her duster was conducting music only she could hear.

Rosie had finally given up her game of cat and mouse, allowing Fiona to collect the remaining package of tea. The cat moved to her usual plinth in the store window, the sun setting fire to her orange and white patches of fur as she licked, nibbled, and smoothed every stray hair into place.

Fiona hummed beneath her breath while running a feather duster along the front shelves, working methodically toward the back of the shop. Sunlight lit her from behind, making the flowing cream linen of her dress glow like a halo. A more practical earth angel you’d be hard pressed to meet.

Last stop was the Reading Room. Not just named for the bookshelves lining the walls, crammed with titles of every sort. But mainly for its function. At its heart sat a circular table, Tarot decks scattering its surface. Their jewel-bright covers quietly beckoning the curious.

Fiona moved her duster over the titles, her gaze fixed on the large window overlooking the backyard, she watched as the delicate buntings flitted from bush to tree and back again. It was a sanctuary of sorts, designed for a cat’s viewing pleasure and for quiet contemplation over a steaming cup of tea. Fiona dusted with less care now as she moved around the shelves toward her customary seat at the table. She pulled her Rider–Waite deck of tarot cards toward her. Old Faithful, she called them. The cards slid easily through her hands as she began to think of a question.

Rosie landed softly beside her on the table. She looked up at Fiona, eyes wide, head cocked. ‘This one,’ her look said.

“Do you want to know my question first?” She’d taken to speaking her thoughts aloud to the ginger cat, even when Rosie wasn’t in the room.

Her cat blinked, prompting her to continue. “I want to know what’s coming, what should I be on the lookout for?” Fiona picked up the deck once more, fanning the cards between them as skillful as any Las Vegas dealer. Rosie didn’t hesitate and quickly pulled four cards with one hook-like claw.

The cat craned her neck to watch the cards unfold, one by one. Fiona sat back, finger tapping like a metronome as she bit her lower lip. The Moon. The Tower. The Hanged Man. The Ten of Swords.

~~~~~~~

The Hanged Man by Jane Brookwood was published today September 15 2026 by Brookwood Publishing and is available from all good booksellers, including