Page 92 of Real Fake Hauntings

“Yes.”

“And?”

“He doesn’t want you stealing ideas for your Halloween tour next year.”

“We run a cemetery tour, not a haunted house,” I exclaimed.

Veva laughed. “That’s what I told him. He mentioned something about you taking one of his best performers.”

I thought of Rachel. “Only because he didn’t give her the dead wife’s role. That’s on him, not us.” I peeked at the side of the building, almost flush with the next sister. Maybe there was an open window somewhere on the first floor I could use to sneak in?

“In any case, he agreed to let you in, as long as you’re fast about it.”

I straightened abruptly. “He did?”

“I know how to get my way,” Veva said like it wasn’t a big deal, and I got the impression she might be buffing her nails on her shirt.

“Thank you so much, Veva. You’re a lifesaver.” Possibly literally, if I was right about my theories. It wasn’t like Bagley was going to take over a body and let the original owner’s soul stick around.

“Do not mention it,” Veva said. “Go to the main entrance and wait there.”

I thanked her again and ended the call. Back at the gate, I told the woman Jim was letting me in, and while she didn’t look like she believed me, she did look like she’d rather someone else deal with the problem. I skipped the waiting line inside the yard, earning myself some choice compliments, then stood in front of the man guarding the front door.

“Hi, Jim said I could go…inside.” No question mark, I reminded myself just in time—I was here on a mission, not asking for permission.

The man arched both brows. “He did?”

“Yes.”

“Have any proof?”

I was considering calling Veva again and have her work her magic on him when the door opened and Jim appeared. His disapproving glare fell on Fluffy.

“Veva didn’t say you had a dog.”

“She’s very well behaved.”

Fluffy yipped softly and wagged her fluffy puff of a tail.

“See?”

“Aw, what a cutie,” the front door man said, crouching to pet her. Fluffy lapped at his hand and stared adoringly into his eyes.

“We have a no pets policy,” Jim insisted, scowling so deep I didn’t know how he could see.

“I need to check something quick and then we’ll be right out. It’ll take no time.”

Jim huffed but allowed me inside. “If you give me a bad review, I’ll make sure you never do another tour again.”

I gathered Fluffy in my arms and stepped into the house before he changed his mind. They had made the most of the dark wallpaper in the entrance, giving only enough light to make it appear decrepit and old and like blond girls were about to get a very bad ending.

Maybe I should’ve worn a wig.

“No bad reviews,” I assured him.

“And if you steal an idea, I’ll?—”

“No stealing.”

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