Page 17 of Ghosts, Ghouls, and Growls
“Do it and you might be the next body I find,” I warn because I have to draw the line somewhere, and exploiting my infant daughterfor social media followers is definitely it. Unless, of course, it could sponsor her college tuition, then I’d have to reconsider.
“You wound me.” Macy clutches her heart with theatrical anguish that would make a soap opera star envious. “After all I’ve done for you. Including finding that body last night and saving you the trouble.”
“Yes, thank you so much for that considerate gesture,” I deadpan with all the gratitude of someone who’s just been handed a live grenade. “Next time, maybe just get me a gift card.”
Mackenzie claps her hands sharply like a drill sergeant calling troops to attention. “Places, everyone! I want to get this shot before the lighting changes.”
The next half hour is pure chaos of baby wrangling, toddler bribing, and carefully choreographed poses. Three colossal pumpkins, winners of last weekend’s harvest contest, are each hollowed out and fitted with a custom baby seat—true thrones for our little royals. Ella lolls in the middle pumpkin, her ruby slippers dangling, while Elliot takes the left in his Superman glory, and little Mack, as the eldest, sits proudly in the right pumpkin, occasionally trying to eat pieces of his own costume.
The sight of our sweet babies together makes me think about my newly discovered sister. Somewhere out there is another Baker girl who has no idea that her DNA test linked her to our chaotic, murder-magnet family. Or at least I think she’s unaware. I’m positive that the company emailed her about our genetic link, but if she does know about me, she hasn’t responded yet. Obviously, she took the test looking for a link. I’m not sure what’s going on in her life at the moment, but I hope she’s okay.
By some miracle—possibly involving divine intervention or just the alignment of celestial baby-cooperation forces—we manage to get all three children looking at the camera at the same time. The flash goes off, immortalizing our little pumpkins in digital glory that will probably end up on Mackenzie’s YouTube channel within the hour.
“Send me those right away,” Mackenzie instructs the photographer. “I need to edit and post them before our afternoon segment.” She turns to me, her expression serious enough to announce anational emergency. “And Bizzy, you had better not drag any real corpses to the Halloween Fright Night Spooktacular taking place at the inn on Halloween night. I’ve got the entire town council attending, along with three potential investors for the new marina project.”
“I cross my heart,” I say solemnly, making the gesture with my right hand while my left hand crosses its fingers behind my back.
“I see that,” Huxley says, appearing at my side with little Mack now perched on his shoulders like a tiny scarecrow king surveying his domain. “You never were good at being sneaky.”
“I’m excellent at being sneaky,” I protest. “I’ve solved how many homicides now?”
“That’s not sneakiness; that’s morbid luck,” he counters, adjusting his son’s scarecrow hat. “Speaking of which, Jasper mentioned you two are heading back to the scene of the crime.” He glances at the haunted house in the distance. “You sure that’s a good idea? You’re a mom now, Bizzy. Leave the investigating to the professionals.”
I glance over at Jasper, who’s packing Ella back into her stroller. “I’m just tying up a few loose ends. Besides, it’s broad daylight, and I’ll have an armed detective with me.”
Huxley shakes his head but doesn’t argue further. That’s the thing about having a family of strong personalities and even stronger opinions—you learn to pick your battles. Either that or he’s afraid I’ll turn him into the next corpse if he disagrees with me.
As the photo shoot winds down and everyone begins dispersing, Jasper and I make our way toward the path that leads behind the haunted house. Ella is contentedly snoozing in her stroller, and by the looks of it, the excitement of the morning has finally worn her out—a small miracle that I’m not going to question.
“The team did a thorough sweep last night,” Jasper says as we approach the area, now cleared of police tape but still eerily quiet. “But sometimes things get missed in the dark.”
“That knife bothers me,” I admit, keeping my voice low even though there’s no one around to hear us except possibly ghosts, and I’m not ready to deal with supernatural eavesdropping on top of everything else. “Heath assured us that the knives he brought along were fakes, and the one used to kill him was clearly the same ornate style.”
Jasper nods. “The lab is processing it now. The initial report says it’s some kind of antique collector’s piece. Maybe it was the real knife that inspired him to make the fake ones? The one in his chest was definitely real.”
I nod, because that makes a twisted kind of sense. “Someone must have swapped a real knife for one of his fake ones. And I doubt Heath realized it before it was too late.”
I scan the ground where the body was found. The morning dew has settled on the grass, making everything glisten in the weak sunlight trying to break through the clouds.
I’m about to take another step forward when something dark snags my attention. It’s a small black rectangle partially hidden beneath a fallen leaf as if it were evidence playing hide-and-seek.
“Jasper,” I whisper, pointing at the thing. “What’s that?”
He crouches down, carefully brushing away the leaf to reveal a cell phone, its screen cracked but still intact.
“I bet it’s Heath’s,” he says, pulling an evidence bag from his pocket. “He didn’t have one on his person when the coroner took him away. It could have fallen during the struggle.”
Jasper seals the phone, and I can’t help but wonder what secrets it might hold—and which of our Halloween revelers might have wanted those secrets to stay buried.
A crowd near the entry catches my eye, and it looks to be Hammie Mae, Buffy, and Hazel along with a few men hoisting camera equipment. I watch as they chat for a second and part ways, leaving Hazel and a few of the men behind as Hammie Mae and Buffy head for the parking lot.
“I’d better get to the office,” Jasper says, dropping a kiss to both Ella and me. “You girls stay out of trouble,” he says and I nod.
“Will do,” I say as he heads for the car and I make my way to the inn.
Trouble has a way of finding me at the Country Cottage Inn, or maybe I’m just particularly good at findingit.
Either way, trouble seems to have me on speed dial.
