Page 1 of Dragon Detective

Chapter 1

Hannah

Iwoke to water dripping onto my face and sputtered as I flung myself out of bed.

Max, my fluffy black cat, leaped off the blankets and scrambled from the room. If I wasn’t careful, he’d get even later. He probably thought I was responsible for the water now plopping onto my pillow instead of my face.

Nope, that was due to the ghost.

“Damn you, Justin!” I shook my fist at the ceiling, though it wouldn’t make a difference.

Justin Blakemore was the resident ghost. Or I assumed he was. Who else could be sabotaging my renovations on Blakemore House, the four-story oceanfront Victorian I’d purchased a few months ago to turn into a B&B?

I rushed upstairs, expecting to find a burst pipe in the bathroom above my bedroom, only to discover a dry sink, a dry clawfoot tub, and an equally dry seal around the toilet.

Where was the water coming from?

With a sigh, I hurried down to the basement and turned off all the water leading to the second floor. I’d call Macy, theplumber, later to see if she could figure it out. I pretty much had her on speed dial.

I returned to my bedroom and glared at the ceiling that at least had stopped dripping, adding one more stain to cover with fresh paint to my to-do list.

“You’re messing with my life, Justin,” I snarled, feeling foolish the moment I said it. There was no such thing as ghosts. A dead guy named Justin Blakemore, the former owner of this gorgeous, though run-down building, was not trying to sabotage my renovations.

So who was?

After findingLeave, or elsewritten on the front parlor mirror above the fireplace that disappeared during the time it took me to run to the kitchen for a rag and glass spray, plus my back flower beds dug up and the plants strewn all over the lawn, I’d called the police. Detective Carter was sympathetic, but I hadn’t yet installed security cameras, and there was no way for him to tell who’d messed with anything.

“Probably a skunk,” he’d said about the flower beds.

I’d pointed out that skunks dug in the lawn looking for grubs, not flower beds. While they might dig up a bulb or two for a tasty treat, they weren’t into uprooting entire bushes or prying irises and larger plants out of the ground. They also didn’t bother to drag the plants twenty feet out onto the lawn, let alone slice them up with a hoe—then leave the hoe behind as evidence.

“Kids, then,” he’d replied, telling me to call him if any other unusual things occurred.

As for the mirror-writing, with no evidence, he could only shrug and look at me as if he thought I might’ve imagined it. Thankfully, he’d been polite enough not to speak what was clearly crossing his mind.

Months ago, after scrimping and saving for five years working as a chef at an exclusive restaurant in Boston, I’d puta down payment on this building and moved to cozy Mystic Harbor on Cape Cod. I was determined to fix the place up and open a B&B. My guests would slumber in one of the ten ensuite bedrooms then sit in the gorgeous, restored dining room while enjoying the amazing brunches I’d create in the big old kitchen.

My dad was a general contractor, and during summer breaks through high school and college, I’d worked with him on one job after another, learning a second trade that had come in handy with my Blakemore House restoration.

I didn’t mind working hard, but I did mind having someone sabotaging my efforts.

Was all this the work of a ghost?

One of these days, I was going to find out.

If Detective Carter wouldn’t take me seriously, someone at Monsters, PI, would.

I stripped my bed and tossed the damp blankets and sheets into the washer.

“I needed to do my sheets anyway,” I told Justin. I either talked to a possibly fictitious ghost or I talked to Max, who skulked behind me from room to room, glaring.

“Sorry, kitty.” Pausing beside him in the hall, I leaned over to stroke my fingers down his spine.

He put up with it for all of two seconds before swiping out at my calf with his claws.

“Still pissed, are you?” I said cheerfully as I scooted around him and strode into the kitchen.

I made a pot of coffee and opened a can of wet food. He huffed as I placed it in front of him, but dug in, eating like he hadn’t stuffed his belly last night.

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