Page 28 of Bright Dark Curses

I smiled and approached the counter, making a show of examining the room again. It did not improve on a second viewing. “You’re not at Crane’s office?”

Her mouth formed a sad arch. “Oh, no. It’s closed for now.”

“We’re sorry for your loss,” I said. While the method of Crane’s demise hadn’t been made public, his death had.

April’s lower lip trembled before she summoned a brave smile. “Thank you. The boss’s death came as a shock.”

I had never thought them close, but judging from the sadness permeating her voice, I’d clearly been wrong. “It’s hard to lose your boss like that. You two were close?”

“I just don’t know what’s going to happen to my paycheck.” Her eyes turned slightly watery. “And the bonus.”

Ah. Now things made sense again. “They closed the office?”

She nodded glumly.

“What’s going to happen to it?” I thought of all the paranormal business Crane had dealt with, including the Tea Cauldron. “What’s going to happen to all the clients and the files?”

“Someone’s coming from Montel to take over for now, but I don’t know if they’ll take on the clients or close everything down.”

“Won’t they need your help to deal with the clients? Why are you working here?”

“They won’t be here for at least another week.” She leaned in, guilt written all over her face. “I made some purchases last month that maybe I shouldn’t have…”

I lifted a hand. “Say no more. Been there, done that.”

Dru stepped up. “You’re still Crane’s representative for the PBOA, right? At least until the next accountant takes over?”

April frowned. “I suppose.”

Dru elbowed me.

“We’d be delighted if you could come to the next meeting and lend Dru your support for her new store,” I said.

April looked absolutely pleased. “Of course. I’d love to.”

“Wonderful,” I said. I shot Dru a see? nothing to worry about! look, which she ignored.

“Thank you,” she said graciously. It was her time to lean forward in a conspiratorial gesture. “We’re actually here to pick your brain.”

April perked up, extra interested now. Considering she loved to dress as a zombie, Dru couldn’t have chosen better words. “You are?”

“You ever heard of someone having a beef with movies made in Olmeda?” Dru asked, gossiper to gossiper.

“Oooh.” April all but clapped her hands. “The curse, right?”

“Exactly,” I agreed.

“So exciting about the movie. I went there after my evening shift, but it was so hard to see what they were filming, and nothing weird happened. It was a little disappointing.”

“You think the curse is real?” Dru asked.

“Of course,” April said, all conviction.

“You do?” I asked, surprised.

She lowered her voice, her eyes shining with ill-concealed eagerness. “It must be, right? Fits right in with all the creepy stuff.”

Who was I to destroy so much enthusiasm with the truth that curses weren’t actually real? “Who do you think is behind the curse?” The source of the tale might just be the saboteur himself.

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