Page 37 of Real Fake Hauntings

I got to my feet and stumbled onto a stool, my gaze never leaving the body on the floor.

Why on Mother’s Green Earth was Desmond Crane dead on my shop’s floor?

Fingers shaking, I called Ian.

“It’s early even for you,” he answered with some amusement.

“There’s a—” My voice came out awfully high-pitched, so I swallowed and tried again. “I need you to come to the shop.”

“Is everything all right?”

I let out a squawking noise that could’ve meant anything, but he must’ve gotten the gist of it because he told me he’d be right over and ended the call.

“Ms. Bagley?” I asked in the same squeak of a voice.

She remained silent, but in the back of my mind, I heard her malevolent cackle. The nosy hag was probably going to keep me in suspense and not tell me anything of what had transpired unless I cut her a deal.

Well, two could play the silent game.

I grabbed the pumpkin decoration off the table and moved it into the kitchen.

Where I filled up a tall glass with water and gulped it down in one go.

Concerned noises reverberated through the pipes, and I tried hard not to think I had just drunk kraken ghost bathwater.

Maybe it was like unintended bugs in your food—extra protein.

A nervous giggle erupted out of my chest, and I squeezed my hands hard, trying to stop it from becoming hysterical laughter.

Focus, Hope.

It was only a dead body. Been there, done that. I could deal with it.

I repeated this somewhat soothing mantra until Ian knocked on the backyard’s gate, and I hurried to let him in.

He was tall and solid like the best of walls against the harshest of storms.

“What is it?” he asked without preamble in that direct way I liked so much.

“Des—Desmond Crane is dead in the shop.”

His eyebrows almost touched his hairline. His hair was slightly damp, curling around his face and neck. He had forgone the hair tie this morning but not his all-black uniform.

“Dead?” he asked.

I nodded vehemently. “Dead-dead.”

“Did you…?”

I shook my head vigorously. “Did not.”

He squeezed my arm, then strode into the building. I followed like a lost lamb and watched as he went inside the shop and paused for a moment, taking in the scenery.

“You found him like this?”

“Yes.”

He knelt by Crane and pressed his fingers to his neck. Without saying a word, he stood, went to the front door, and gave the handle a couple of sharp pulls.

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