Page 42 of Ghosts, Ghouls, and Growls
“Do you remember that whole kerfuffle a few months back about the man who raised me?” A wry smile touches her lips as she shifts gears.
I nod. “The fact your mom told you that the man who raised you—the one you called Dad your whole life wasn’t your biologicalfather. I remember. And I’m sorry. That must have been quite a shock.”
“It was,” she agrees, bouncing Matilda as she grows fussy. “And the kicker is, all my mom would tell me about my real father is that he was a ‘well-known cad’ right here in Spider Cove.” She sighs heavily. “Can you imagine if I have siblings running around here in town and I have no clue who they could be?” She laughs suddenly. “Could you imagine ifyouandIwere sisters?”
I freeze with my mug halfway to my mouth, my eyes widening in genuine shock.
Does Hammie Mae suspect something, too? Obviously, if she’s Lovemydoodle, she knows that I’m her sister.
“That would be wild, right?” Hammie Mae continues, oblivious to my internal freak-out. “Though I suppose it’s not completely outside the realm of possibility in a town this small where everyone’s family trees seem to intersect at some point.”
“Y-yeah,” I stammer, trying to regain my composure. “That would be something.”
She tilts her head, studying my face. “Bizzy, are you okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost. And I don’t mean the one supposedly haunting your inn.”
“I’m fine,” I assure her with my voice steadier than I feel, which is more or less a miracle considering my brain is currently short-circuiting. “I was just thinking about Heath. You mentioned he wasn’t what he seemed?”
“Right,” she says, shifting tracks. “So get this. Heath’s paranormal enthusiast persona was just his hobby. His actual job was as a real estate developer.” Her expression darkens and I can see the storm brewing in her eyes. “And he had his eye on a portion of our farm for some luxury vacation homes he wanted to build.”
“He wanted you to sell your land?” I ask, not entirely surprised.
“For months he’d been pressuring me about it,” she confirms, and her irritation is evident. “At first, he was all friendly, talking about how much money I could make, how it would secure Matilda’s future. When that didn’t work, he started getting pushy, talking about how the farm was underutilized and how I was sitting on a gold mine.”
“I take it you weren’t interested?”
“This farm has been in our family for generations.” Hammie Mae pushes her drink to the side as if making a point. “I’m not going to be the one who sells off pieces of it to developers who want to build McMansions for rich summer people.” Her voice rises with passion. “Besides, we’re finally turning a profit with the chocolate side of the business. I don’t need his money.”
“How did Heath take the rejection?” I ask, watching her carefully because I’m starting to think Heath wasn’t a big fan of the wordno.
“He didn’t handle it well,” she admits. “About two weeks before he died, he cornered me after a club meeting. Said he had other ways to convince me to sell. And that things could get very uncomfortable for my family if I didn’t reconsider.”
“He threatened you?” I ask, as a flare of indignation rockets through me on her behalf because threatening new mothers should be punishable by law.
“Not in so many words, but the implication was clear,” she says, and her jaw tightens with the memory. “I told him to take a hike and suggested a few anatomically impossible things he could do with his development plans. The next day, he showed up at the farm and my mom practically threw him out.”
“That must have been intense,” I say, filing away this new potential motive. If Heath was threatening the Westoff family business, that gave Matilda another reason to want him gone—beyond any secrets about Hammie Mae’s parentage.
“It was,” Hammie Mae agrees. “And the weird part is, he wasn’t just doing this to us. Buffy told me he was pressuring her about something, too.”
“Buffy from the bookstore?” I ask, feigning mild surprise.
“Yeah, they dated for a while, but it ended badly,” Hammie Mae says, lowering her voice to safer gossiping levels. “He was horrible to her—controlling, possessive. And after they broke up, he wouldn’t leave her alone. Then suddenly, about a week before he died, the harassment stopped. But he had this smug look whenever she was around. Like he had something on her.”
“Did Buffy ever mention what it was?” I ask, trying not to sound too eager for the dirt.
“No,” Hammie Mae says, shaking her head. “But I overheard him telling her once, ‘Either you cooperate by the end of the month or everyone finds out.’ When I asked her about it later, she just said she was handling it and changed the subject.”
Matilda begins to fuss more insistently, and Hammie Mae shifts her to begin nursing discreetly under a light blanket, multitasking like the champion new mom she is.
“So Heath was pressuring multiple people,” I say, thinking aloud. “You about the land, and Buffy about something mysterious and potentially devastating.”
“And who knows how many others,” Hammie Mae adds. “The man had a talent for digging up information people wanted to keep buried.”
“What about Hazel?”
She rolls her eyes in a way that suggests Hazel is not her favorite person, and Matilda claps her hands as if agreeing with her mother’s assessment. “Oh, Heath had dirt on Hazel, too. He caught her staging some of her paranormal evidence—you know, rigging equipment to get better footage for her YouTube channel. He was threatening to expose her whole operation, which would have ruined her reputation and probably ended her paranormal career before it really took off. I heard them going at it after one of our meetings.”
“He caught her staging paranormal evidence?” I whisper mostly to myself.
