Page 2 of Top Secret Vampire

“No thank you,” Aunt Beverly said as I started to open the cupboard for a mug.

“I have pastries from Mythical Muffin,” I said. They were the best place for baked goods in town. Their homemade breads were to die for.

“I’m not hungry,” my aunt said with a sniff, leaning against the counter on my mother’s left. “You owe me lunch, then, Alice.”

“Sure, I’d love to.” Mom’s gaze shot my way. “Want to join us?”

“Thanks, but I have a lot to do today.”

“Odd things have been happening to Reese since she moved back to town.” Mom ran her sponge along the countertop.

“What sort of things?” Did I actually hear a touch of concern in my aunt’s voice? Couldn’t be.

Mom told my aunt about the writing and the seagull attack, plus brought in why green slime covered my kitchen walls. “Someone sabotaged her blender. She’s got a stalker! That’s whyI suggested she go to Monsters, PI. I’m sure they’ll figure out who it is and make them stop.”

“You’d be safer back in the city,” Aunt Beverly said. “I can’t imagine why you want to live here in this big, drafty house by yourself. Didn’t you feel more secure in your apartment with all those locks and alarms?”

I shrugged. “I feel safe here. Crime’s basically nonexistent in Mystic Harbor.”

“Then why do we need a detective agency?” Aunt Beverly said. “Surely our local law enforcement can handle our needs.”

“Monsters, PI doesn’t only solve crimes,” Mom said. “You know that. They’re so much more than our local cops. Look at the evidence they found for my friend, Wanda, when she was trying to divorce her dead-beat husband. It was amazing. Without their investigative services, her ex would’ve taken her for everything she had.”

“I suppose.” My aunt studied her nails, and I had to admit, it was a pretty manicure. I loved the bright pink polish. “I still think you’d be safer back in New York.”

I wasn’t going to argue with her. I did that once when I was a teenager, defending Mom over something I could no longer remember, and my aunt ripped me a new one with her words. I was a sputtering kid, doing what I could to defend what I’d said, while she was an adult who knew very well how to manipulate others. She told me I was ruining our family and asked how I would like it if she couldn’t come to the house any longer because she and I had a disagreement.

At her scolding, I burst into tears and rushed from the room.

Mom sat with me later and thanked me for speaking up for her but asked me to leave defense like that to her in the future. She’d hugged me and told me she loved me. But she’d asked me to be the big person and write to my aunt, apologizing forsnapping, which I did. Mom suggested I ask my aunt if we could move forward from there.

Aunt Beverly wrote back, telling me we would put this behind us. However, she added, I wasn’t to ever speak to her like that again.

“I won’t keep you two any longer.” My aunt grabbed her purse off the table to leave. “Alice? I’ll see you at Kraken’s Keep at one.”

At my mother’s nod, she left.

I dumped out my bucket and refilled it with clean water and continued scrubbing.

Mom returned to our conversation. “Perhaps you’re experiencing a ghostly haunt. Go to Monsters, PI, and ask one of them to perform an intervention.” Mom shook her fist at the ceiling. “Get out of here, Jolene.”

“Jolene?”

“You know that Dolly Parton tune.” She burst out in song. “Jolene, Jolene, Jolene, Jo-leeene! Don’t take my man away.”

“I have not heard that song.” Though I felt I should. “Did someone named Jolene own this house in the past and did she steal someone else’s man?” And how could that play into making my blender explode spinach smoothie all over my kitchen?

“Jolene Molson died here,” my mom said softly, her wild-eyed gaze spinning. “Some say she was murdered. Others say she did it herself. She fell down the back stairs leading to the beach and they found her later, lying in the sand with a snapped neck. Her front door was wide open. Anyone could’ve come inside. Did someone push her or was it merely an accident? We’ll never know.” Her hand swept toward the back of my house that looked over the bayside of Cape Cod and had been dramatically built on a steep cliff. “This happened long ago. I doubt what happened matters now.” She held up a green-stained finger. “Except if she’s decided to haunt you.”

“Why would she do something like that?”

“To make you leave, of course. That’s why they all do it. Maybe she doesn’t like the renovations you’ve done since you moved in, or she has unfinished business and you’re not helping.”

“What kind of unfinished business?” I rinsed my sponge out in my bucket and continued scrubbing. Spinach had stained the pale gray I’d used on the kitchen walls, and I worried it wouldn’t come out. I’d probably have to repaint.

“She might want you to reveal the final clues about her death.”

Pausing, I leaned my hip against the counter and frowned. “How would I do something like that?”

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