Page 38 of Real Fake Hauntings

“I was the first one here,” I told him as he checked that the front door alarm was engaged.

“Apparently not,” he murmured, returning to my side. “Tell me what happened.”

“I woke up, had my breakfast, then came down to get the shop ready and found him like this.”

“Was the back door open?”

“I unlocked it to let you in just now.”

“Nothing out of the ordinary overnight? Nothing woke you up?”

“Nothing.”

He rubbed his chin, deep in thought. “Hmm.”

“What are you thinking?”

“That your shop is cursed.”

That stung a little. “A few deaths do not a curse make.” Although at this rate perhaps I should change the name to the Murder Cauldron. The errant thought brought me up short. “You think he was killed here?”

He walked around the body, doing a slow study of the scene. “He was a heavy man. It would’ve been hard to drag him inside.”

“There are no wounds.”

“That we can see.”

“But why would Crane come into my shop?”

“Searching for some kind of potion? He thought you’re a dark witch.”

That made sense, but… “He could’ve simply tried to blackmail me into making him a potion rather than go through the effort of breaking in.”

“Perhaps he was looking for something Bagley used. Some sort of secret compartment?” He scowled at the shelves and the tables. “Where’s the old witch?”

I pointed at the bead curtain. “Kitchen. She’s on time out.”

“Good idea.”

Unfortunately, I was too unnerved to bask in his approval. “What do I do? Should I call Officer Brooks?”

“That would be wise.”

Would it, though? Something in me resisted the idea. I joined him by Crane’s body, wriggling my hands again. “Ian, look at him. So pale.”

Ian sent me a sharp glance. “You’re thinking exsanguination?”

When you were a good witch passing as a dark witch, some things came to mind easier than others. “It could be. It’ll make me the main suspect. The person who owns the murder scene is always the first suspect.” Everyone knew that. “And if someone did steal his blood, Brooks might start investigating the black market deals around the shop.”

“And discover your side business?”

I nodded, worrying my lip. “I don’t think she’ll believe me that I do placebos. And if the Council hears about this…”

Then I might as well kiss my shop goodbye.

Being the center of a police murder investigation wasn’t the kind of feature spotlight the Council appreciated.

If I reported the murder, and the police focused on me, the murderer could be long gone, and I might end up in prison and lose the shop for nothing.

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