Page 39 of Real Fake Hauntings

“If we call Officer Brooks, she’ll probably end up involving the bounty hunters and burying the investigation on the human side. Paranormal victim, paranormal suspect, paranormal murder scene.” I swallowed hard. “I think we need to investigate on our own.” I went through the words again in my head, then nodded to myself. “Yes. We need to get the body out of here and figure out who did this.”

“You realize hiding the body is what a guilty person would do, right?”

“Not necessarily.”

“Oh?”

“It’d be a decision made out of panic.”

“Are you in a panic?”

“Yes!”

I dropped onto a stool and covered my face with my hands.

“Why me?” I asked with a sorrowful whimper.

“Yes. Why you?”

For the first time, I gave the question some thought. Why me? “Someone trying to sabotage the shop?” Again.

“Then why leave the body as is? Why not call in the police?”

I jumped off the stool and checked the blinds hiding the shop from the street. “You think they did?”

“No.”

“No?” I asked, full of hope.

“If that was the plan, they would’ve done it already.”

“More reason for us to deal with this on our own.” I couldn’t risk losing the shop. Not when I was so close to it being officially mine. Not to mention being branded a dark witch and ending up in Council jail.

Ian studied me. “Are you a hundred percent sure you don’t want to involve the police and risk a murderer walking free?”

That was a fair question, so I gave it the thought it demanded. “Yes, I’m sure. Whoever killed Crane left him in my shop for a reason. Maybe some sort of sabotage, or a warning. Or they were planning on murdering him anyway and thought I’d clean up the mess for them.”

“Which you want to do,” he reminded me.

I tugged my T-shirt straight. “The point is that it’s almost certainly a paranormal matter.”

And paranormals took care of their own justice.

“What about the murderer?” Ian asked. “Are you sure you can catch them?”

“We caught who murdered the guy in the bathtub and Bagley, didn’t we?” Although, caught might be a bit of an exaggeration. Judging from the look Ian sent me, he was having the same thought. “Vicky paid for her actions. It still counts.”

Ian huffed but said nothing else on that subject. As usual, while he might not approve of my decision, he wouldn’t stand in my way.

“I’ll find the murderer and deliver them to the bounty hunters,” I promised both of us and the gnawing of worry in my stomach. If a murderer went free because I was too scared of losing the shop… I didn’t even want to think about what Grandma would say.

But they wouldn’t go free. I’d find a way.

“Yes,” I repeated, more firmly. “We’ll catch the murderer.”

“All right,” Ian said.

I reached over and squeezed his hand in thanks. He squeezed back.

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