Page 27 of Ghosts, Ghouls, and Growls
“Yes, but Buffy’s thoughts were pretty revealing. I caught her thinking that Heath had found her skeletons and had threatened to expose everything. Her words, not mine.”
That gets his full attention. “Did she elaborate?”
“Not intentionally. But she did mention that Heath was pressuring Hammie Mae about selling part of her property to some developer. And apparently, he and Hazel were constantly arguing about the direction of the Beyond Belief Paranormal Club.”
“So we’ve got Macy who threatened him publicly, Buffy who was recently dumped by him and might have secrets, Hammie Mae who was being pressured by him, and Hazel who was fighting with him,” Jasper summarizes. “Anyone else want to join theI Had Issues with Heath Cullen Club?”
“At this point, it might be easier to list who didn’t have a problem with him,” I say with a sigh. “Your turn. How was your day of official detecting?”
Jasper shifts slightly, careful not to disturb Ella, who has now fallen into a peaceful sleep with one adorable chubby cheek squished against his chest. “We got some preliminary results back from the lab. There were prints on the knife—partial, but usable.”
“Whose?” I lean forward so fast I risk waking the baby.
“We’re still working on that. I’m going to need prints from everyone in the Beyond Belief Paranormal Club for starters. The chief has authorized expedited processing since we’re dealing with a murder during a major town event.”
“Any other leads?”
“We’re looking into Heath’s phone records, financials, the whole nine yards. But we’ve hit a snag with his actual phone—it’s locked with a password. We’re working with the phone company to try to bypass it, but these things take time, even with a murder investigation.”
“Any other leads?”
He shakes his head and frowns. “Something is off about this whole case.”
“What do you mean?”
Jasper’s brow furrows, a tell-tale sign he’s working through a puzzle. “The knife was too obvious. Right out in the open, clearly visible. Not that a killer would try to hide the weapon, or take it with them, but still it’s a ringer for those fake blades he was handing out. Someone is sending a message.”
I nod. “I’ve been thinking about that, too. He had a bag full of fake knives for the group photos.”
“And that’s why I bet he didn’t see it coming. He wasn’t threatened by the knife even if he saw the killer wielding it.”
“He thought it was a fake,” I finish for him.
“I need to look into where those fake knives came from and who had access to them,” Jasper says, his detective mind clearly racing. “And we need to find that bag of props.”
A soft snore from Ella reminds us of our sleeping beauty. “I’ll put her down,” Jasper whispers, carefully rising from the sofa with the practiced movements of a bomb disposal expert.
I watch as he disappears down the hallway to the nursery with Fish, Sherlock, and Fudge trailing behind him like a furry security detail. The fire crackles in the hearth, casting spooky shadows across our Halloween decorations and making the ceramic ghost on the counter look as if it’s come alive.
Speaking of which, my mind drifts back to the ghostly image of myself at the bay window. Why would a spirit that looks exactly like me be haunting the Country Cottage Inn? And why now, coinciding with Heath’s murder? Or maybe it’s Halloween she’s coinciding with.
A floorboard creaks somewhere in the cottage, and I glance up, expecting to see Jasper returning. Instead, a translucent figure glides silently through the living room—pale, ethereal, and unmistakablyme. I gasp as the ghostly version of myself floats past the fireplace, her feet never touching the ground, before dissolving into nothing.
“Jasper,” I pant just below a whisper. The air suddenly feels oddly cold, leaving me with goosebumps. “I think I just watched myself haunt my own home.”
I shake my head at the thought. It was probably just my sleep-deprived imagination. Or maybe it’s Halloween getting to me.
Something rattles outside of the window and I jump with a start.
Maybe, just maybe, the ghost at the inn isn’t the only one keeping an eye on the Baker-Wilder family.
CHAPTER 13
It’s the next afternoon, and the fall harvest festival just outside my cottage door has transformed the grounds of the inn into a kaleidoscope of orange, black, and purple, with enough glitter to make a unicorn file a copyright infringement lawsuit.
I promised both my mother and my father that they’d get to spend the afternoon carting Ella around the carnival, and they’re both so hopped up you’d think I was offering them cash, prizes, and a lifetime supply of coffee. But as it stands, the real prize is Ella, and boy, do they know it.
The festival is in tip-top Halloween shape. Paper ghosts dance from tree branches as if they’re auditioning forSo You Think You Can Haunt, hay bales form makeshift seating areas for parents who’ve given up trying to keep up with their crew, and an army of scarecrows stands at attention, their button eyes following visitors with the dedication of mall security guards.
