Page 31 of Ghosts, Ghouls, and Growls
Especially not when I’ve engineered a few of those investigations myself,she thinks to herself so quickly I almost miss it, like a whisper in a windstorm.
Wait, what?
Did she just admit to engineering paranormal evidence? Because that seems like the kind of thing a person should probably keep to themselves, especially when talking to someone whose ghost they claim to have caught on camera. Okay, so technically, she did keep it to herself, but still.
Before I can process that potential bombshell, Hazel’s expression turns serious, like someone who’s about to deliver bad news at a dinner party.
“But that’s not the only reason I wanted to talk to you. It’s about Heath.” She clasps her hands together and her knuckles whiten. “I’ve been thinking about his death nonstop, and there are things you should know.”
“I’m listening,” I say, keeping my face neutral despite the fact that my thoughts are currently doing the mental equivalent of a fire drill.
“I don’t want to speak ill of the dead, or cause trouble for anyone, but...” She blows out a breath. “Heath wasn’t the easiest person to get along with. He had more than a few conflicts with several people in our group.”
“What kind of conflicts?” I ask as she pauses dramatically, because if there’s one thing I’ve learned from solving murders, it’s that the dramatic pauses usually contain the good stuff.
“Well, for one, he was obsessed with Buffy.” Hazel’s voice drops to a near whisper as if we were discussing state secrets instead of relationship drama. “At first, they were dating, but when she ended things, he couldn’t let go. He would follow her everywhere—to the bookshop, to her apartment, even sitting outside in his car for hours. It wasn’t healthy.”
I think of Buffy’s subdued demeanor at Sea Beans and Books, the way she’d been evasive about her relationship with Heath like someone trying to avoid stepping on a landmine.
I shake my head. “Did Buffy report this behavior to anyone?”
“She was too afraid,” Hazel says with the expression of someone who’s seen this movie before and knows how it ends. “Heath could be very charming to outsiders, but he had a darker side. She certainly saw it. And then there’s Hammie Mae...”
“What about her?” I try not to sound too eager, but let’s face it, I’m about as subtle as a neon sign in the desert. After all, Hammie Mae is my friend.
“Heath was putting enormous pressure on her to sell part of her blueberry farm. He claimed to represent some developer, but I’ve always wondered if that was true.” Hazel leans closer like we’re sharing secrets at a sleepover. “At our last club meeting before... before it happened... I overheard Hammie Mae tell Heath she would do whatever it takes to protect her family’s legacy. She was livid, Bizzy.”True story,she thinks to herself.But even if it weren’t, it’s a good tale to tell.
A chill runs through me that has nothing to do with the October breeze or the fact that someone just walked by dressed as the Grim Reaper. I glance down at Fudge, who’s staring at Hazel with unusual intensity, his little head cocked to one side like he’s trying to solve a particularly complex math problem.
“That does sound concerning,” I say carefully. “But if you suspected either of those women might be dangerous, why not go to the police?”
Hazel’s eyes widen. “Oh, I’m not saying either of them did it! I just... I thought you should know about the tensions that existed. Your husband is handling the investigation, right? I’m sure he’s exploring all these angles already.” She pats my arm lightly. “I just want to help. Heath was difficult in many ways, but he was still part of our team. The most important part.”At least he seemed to think so.
Her sincerity seems genuine, and if I weren’t able to catch snippets of her thoughts, I might be completely convinced.
“The whole situation is just awful,” she continues. “Heath’s death is shocking enough, and now finding this apparition at the inn...” Shegestures vaguely toward her tablet. “I have to wonder if there’s a connection somehow.”
“What do you mean?” I ask, genuinely curious about where she’s going with this, because if nothing else, Hazel certainly knows how to build suspense.
“Well, I think this might be our first real ghost,” Hazel says, her eyes lighting up with excitement despite the somber topic. “In all my years of paranormal investigation, I’ve never captured something this clear, this specific. A ghost that looks exactly like you appearing at the same time we lose Heath? It seems like more than coincidence.” Hazel taps her fingers thoughtfully against her knee. “In paranormal research, we often find that violent deaths can trigger supernatural activity. It’s as if the veil between worlds thins at moments of extreme emotion or trauma.”Keep her focused on the ghost angle,she thinks.The more mysterious, the better.
The ghost angle?
I inch back and take a better look at her.
“That’s an interesting theory,” I say, wondering what game she’s playing and whether I’m currently winning or losing. I’m betting on the latter. “So you think Heath’s death might have awakened something at the inn?”
“It’s possible.” Hazel nods eagerly. “Or perhaps whatever was already there has been energized by recent events. Either way, we’re going to continue our investigation.” She checks her watch again with the efficiency of someone who operates on a tight schedule. “Speaking of which, I should get this footage back to our editing suite. We’re on a strict deadline for the Halloween special.”
She stands, brushing invisible dirt from her black jeans. “I’ve taken up enough of your time, but please, if you need anything or have any questions about the footage, don’t hesitate to call.” She pulls a business card from her pocket and hands it to me. “And we’re still on for the club meeting at the inn, right?”
“Absolutely,” I confirm, rising as well. “I’ll make sure everything is ready for you.”
“Wonderful. And Bizzy?” She hesitates, then adds, “Be careful around Buffy and Hammie Mae. I’m not saying either of them is guilty, but—well, people aren’t always what they seem.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” I promise, holding up her card like it’s some sort of talisman against suspicious blueberry farmers and obsessive ex-girlfriends. “Thanks for the warning.”
“And thank you for letting my club meet at the inn later tonight. I hope we’ll see you there!”I have a feeling she won’t miss this for the world.
