Page 36 of Big Witch Energy

“The majority of us have elected not to show ourselves to avoid overwhelming you,” Plover said.

“Thanks, I appreciate that. I like you a lot more than the ceiling ghost,” Ben muttered into the whiskey. “He’s replaced Clark as my least favorite person-and-or-thing on the island.”

“Oh, no, Clark is the worst,” Riley said. “Edison found proof at this kid Kyle’s house that Clark was paying Kyle to terrorize us. And then, uh, the ceiling ghost dropped a chandelier on Kyle when he broke into the house to steal some ghostly objects.”

Ben blinked at her. So that was how the Ashmark boy died?

“It was a whole thing,” Caroline said.

“Anyway,” Riley continued. “We found out Clark was behind it, so we’re thinking of blackmailing him if he becomes more of a problem.”

“I still don’t like that plan,” Edison told her.

Ben took a moment, trying to process everything Riley had just told him. So Clark was involved in a break-in at Shaddow House? Was that the reason he’d been so tolerant of the poor management of Gray Fern? Keeping the house empty of renters would allow Clark to watch Shaddow House from Ben’s own windows? No wonder Clark had been so persistent about trying to get Ben to renew his contract with Martin Property Management. Hell, Clark had written Ben three emails in the last two weeks asking him to reconsider.

“That was a lot,” Caroline told Riley. “For a first-timer.”

“Well, I’ve never had to explain this to a new guy before. It takes a little more to summarize than I thought it would,” Riley said, jerking her shoulders. “Besides, he knows about the ghosts. And you trust him. Plover…is tolerating him.”

“I am undecided on Dr. Hoult,” Plover sniffed. “Of the blackmail? I approve.”

“He’s never liked Clark, either,” Edison assured Ben. “Plover also didn’t like the security cameras Riley and I installed all around the perimeter of the first floor to try to prevent future break-ins. And he was none too subtle about his gloating when the ghosts’ energy shorted them out in less than twelve hours.”

“It was only a small fire, sir,” Plover said, smirking.

“Well, everybody likes to be proven right, even if they don’t have a pulse—wait, Edison, why are you going through things at Kyle’s house?” Ben asked. “Did you break into his house?”

“I was the only one Kyle was close to, so I’m the executor of his estate,” Edison said. “I think he left the receipts behind as some sort of fail-safe.”

“You’re the executor of the will of a guy who broke into your girlfriend’s house?” Ben asked.

“It’s complicated,” Edison sighed. “But this is kind of nice, really, to talk to someone about it.”

“Right?” Riley exclaimed.

“OK, I have seen this with my own eyes, so I’m just going to believe everything you’re saying,” Ben said, draining his glass.

“See, the ceiling ghost was actually helpful,” Caroline noted.

Riley scoffed. “Yeah, but not on purpose.”

Ben nodded to the books strewn around them, the framed art propped against the fountain. “So, what are you reading here when not trying to levitate rocks?”

“Latest ghost investigation. I’ve been seeing this ghost lately, around the bar. And then when your daughter knocked me unconscious, I had a vision of the cliffs at Vixen’s Fall.” She paused to chin-point to the framed sketch. “And a woman being shoved off of them.”

“Oh, do you think it’s the ghost that grabs people’s ankles?” Ben gasped. “That story has freaked me out since I was a kid.”

“I don’t know,” Caroline said, grabbing for one of the very old books Edison had apparently stolen from the library. “In the vision, it felt like this girl seemed hopeful, innocent. Well, OK, a little resentful, but she just wanted to meet some boy she loved—um, Emmett; her Emmett—and get away from the island. And I think the story we heard when we were kids was that she was sort of a man-eater?”

“I’d always heard that a rejected lover threw her off the cliff when she accepted some richer man’s proposal,” Ben said.

“I heard she jumped off because her groom left her at the altar,” Alice said. “Why do so many ghost stories involve brides?”

“Folklore has a tendency to be rewritten with each generation,” Edison said. “The truth is probably some really mundane version where she ticked off her sister or something. Also, a wedding day is always fraught with terror-slash-poignancy.”

“Well, on that note.” Caroline flipped the book open to a page. “I was doing a little light reading. This is the journal of the Mrs. Reverend Elias Lettston. Only, it’s not so much a journal as a one-woman, unpublished gossip column. Maybe she thought it didn’t count as gossip if she didn’t say it aloud? And she doesn’t name names, which is really frustrating. Again, I suspect she thought it made her somehow more virtuous, or something. Anyway, she has the tea on everybody on the island—who’s sleeping with who, who’s cheating who in land deals, who has scurvy. Which I guess was a little more scandalous back then. I keep finding references to a ‘Rose.’ I’m having a little trouble following ye old script here thanks to aging paper, fading ink and, well, horrific handwriting—like, worse than Riley’s.”

“Hey!” Riley griped.

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