by Willow Mason
“Uh, PC Bronson?”
Lucas paused, holding the door open to let Danni into the backseat. “What now?”
I pointed to the man who was rinsing the suds away, whistling in time to the radio hanging off a low branch nearby. “Do you recognise that man?”
“No. Why?” The irritation in Lucas’s voice was clear, making me feel jumpy.
“It’s the ride operator from the fair’s ghost train.” When Muffin mewed, I lifted her up to chest height for a better view. “He was in charge of the ride when Blake Stone first went missing.”
Chapter Nine
“It’s probably better if you leave,” Syd said with a note of apology in his voice. “I’ve already spoken to Danni’s mother and although her parents won’t be able to sit in on the interview until the swap-meet is finished, they’re happy for me to interview her alone.”
“Really?” My tone stayed steady, but my eyes were bugging out of their sockets. “They’re happy for their teenage daughter to face the police alone?”
“We’re not demons,” Syd said with an edge to his voice. “All I’m going to do is ask her about the contents of her bag and what she was doing out there.”
“I can’t leave,” I said firmly, glad to see the firm set of Danni’s shoulders relax slightly at the words. Good girl. Eavesdrop away. “She has possession of my cat, in case you hadn’t noticed. Muffin is a therapy animal so it would be cruel to take her away.”
Usually, the therapy involved companionable eating, but the kitten had a few tricks up her sleeve.
“Fine. Sit there and say nothing.”
Syd glared as I took a seat, but Danni gave me the ghost of a smile.
He eased into the interview with a range of standard name, age, and address questions, which allowed my mind to wander back to Leo’s neighbour opposite. From where I was sitting, the vortex in the ghost train was the crux of the whole problem.
Sure, Blake Stone might have been the victim of an opportunistic killing, but it seemed an extraordinary coincidence. If the ride operator was involved, the weird disappearance from the fun fair made a lot more sense.
I glanced over at Lucas, head down as he typed laboriously into his computer keyboard. My stomach gave a flutter and not just from the fact it hadn’t eaten since mid-morning.
He’d promised to investigate the connection with the ride operator, but it was impossible to tell if that was what he was doing. For all I knew, he could have been typing in the details for a food delivery.
“Can you explain the items found in your backpack?”
Danni gave an exaggerated sigh, and I tipped my head forward to avoid her seeing my smile. I’d been guilty of making exactly the same sound back in the days when every adult was either the enemy or too stupid to live.
“They were just props for my video of staying the night at the haunted house. If I survived, they’d be good for a laugh.”
If I survived? My eyebrows raised as I considered the grumpy faced girl. Had Danni truly set out for the house thinking she might be in for a real fight?
“Who challenged you to spend the night?”
“It wasn’t like that.” Danni crossed her legs, then changed her mind and stretched them out, slumping so far down in her chair that Muffin grew alarmed at the disappearing lap. The kitten jumped for the girl’s shoulder instead.
I wasn’t jealous. Muffin could curl her tail around another person’s neck if she wanted. Even on such short acquaintance.
“There’s been a thing on social media. People dare each other to do things and other people donate money if they’re successful.”
“Like the ice bucket challenge?” I asked. Danni stared at me blankly and I deducted a few years from her age and ended up with the explanation that she wouldn’t know what I was talking about. I’d never felt so old. “Never mind me. Go on.”
“A kid in my class was dared to stay in the haunted house on Westley Street and he chickened out with a heap of excuses.” Danni flicked her thumbnail, chipping off a small piece of black nail polish. “Nobody asked me, but I thought if I stayed there it…” She shrugged. “I dunno. Just wanted to do it because he couldn’t.”
“Are the dares all like this?” I asked, earning myself a foul glance from Syd. “Haunted houses and stuff?”
“Yeah. Abandoned buildings and places that are haunted. You know, credibly haunted. Not just spooky looking.”
“Leo said teenagers had been bothering him lately,” I explained to Syd. “This could be the reason.”
“Do you know how many of your classmates have been involved in these pranks?”
Danni shrugged at Syd’s question. “Dunno. I don’t pay attention to what the other kids do. Mainly, I like to hang out by myself.”
“Is Leo’s house the only one they’ve targeted?” I asked, another black mark on Syd’s scoreboard.
Again, the girl shrugged. “There’s not much else around here that qualifies. There’s an old place on Eastwick Street some people say is haunted and maybe the old Phillips residence just down the road from that.”
“I live on Eastwick Street.”
Danni stared blankly at me. “So?”
Muffin padded her paws on the girl’s shoulder. “The Phillips house is only four doors down. If this is a real thing, we should invest in some security.”
Syd rubbed a hand over his face and checked over his notes. “Can you give us the names of any peers who might’ve been involved?”
“What are peers?”
“Like friends or schoolmates.”
“Sure, I guess.” Danni took a few minutes, squinting at the clipboard Syd handed her as though it was a relic. “There you go.”
As she handed the form back, Muffin jumped into my lap, sensing the interview had ended. Syd checked through the brief list and nodded. “We’ll leave the questions there for the meantime, but I might need to talk to you again.”
Danni chewed on her thumbnail, nodding. “How’m I meant to get home?”
About to offer a lift, I suddenly remembered my car was sitting outside Leo’s house. “If you don’t mind a detour, we can walk back to the haunted house and I’ll give you a lift from there in my car.”
“Great.” Danni turned a deadpan face to me. “Since my house is only half a block from there, I’ll just walk by myself, thanks.”
Syd cleared his throat. “If you prefer, Lucas can drop you back there.”
Danni and I turned to Lucas, frowning at the computer in front of him, then looked at each other. In unison, we said, “No, thanks.”
“Go on,” Danni said at the door to the police station. “You set off walking and I’ll wait five minutes so it’s not all awkward.”
“I won’t find it uncomfortable to walk beside you,” I said, pretending not to know what she was talking about.
“Get going,” she said through gritted teeth. “There’s no way I’m being seen dead in public with someone who dyes her hair pink.”
“It’s not a choice.” I reached up to the top of my mass of hair. “This is one hundred percent natural.”
“And you’re one hundred percent crazy.”
Muffin gave me a whack and rubbed her tummy. “If you don’t mind, I’d rather not spend the rest of the afternoon arguing with a teenager. You’re not going to change her mind.”
“See you around.” When my departing grin just elicited a frown, I followed it up with an exuberant wave.
“You’re even more embarrassing than my mum,” Danni growled, putting a hand over her eyes.
“There’s a bakery just down the road,” Muffin said. “Hint, hint.”
“Okay. Your wish is my command.”
Even with the head start, by the time we emerged from the shop with our treats, Danni was drawing near. I waited in the store until she’d passed, then waited for another minute to make sure she didn’t spot us.
“If it was your intention to follow her, you’re doing a terrible job,” Muffin observed, cleaning the l
ast dregs of cake off her whiskers. “Remind me to enlist you in spy school.”
It hadn’t been my intention at all, but since it had come about anyway, I kept my eyes lowered with my peripheral vision centred on Danni. The girl had been laid back in the station but now appeared fidgety and nervous.
“Well, that’s not the way back to Leo’s house,” Muffin commented as the teen took a sharp left when she should have continued straight. “Have you ever seen somebody look as guilty of something as Danni appears right now?”
The idea was hard to shake once it was implanted. Each nervous glance over her shoulder and flinch as she passed another pedestrian added weight to the observation.
“Drugs,” Muffin announced as Danni approached a shady figure standing outside the pub. “We should have told Syd to keep her at the station until her parents arrived to collect her.”
“Considering they thought a swap-meet was more important than their daughter being questioned by police, I doubt they’d have made a difference.”
“You can get some good stuff at the swap-meets,” Maisie said, appearing out of nowhere to hover beside me. “Better than a garage sale.”
Although my thumping heart wanted to yell at the ghost for scaring me yet again, I bit back the urge. “Could you drift closer to them and find out what she’s buying?”
Maisie floated across and stuck her head between the two humans, freaking me out. I had to turn away while Muffin chuckled. The thought some ghost might have done that to me before I could see them made my skin prickle.
“Not drugs,” the ghost announced, returning to my side. “Something far more dangerous.”
She gestured towards the pair and I gave them a cautious glance in the reflection of a furniture shop window. Danni passed across a handful of gold coins, which the man pocketed.
In return, she received a stake.
Brody sat up on the couch as I reached the end of my story. “I hope you passed all that information to the police.”
“While the man was still hanging around outside the pub,” I said with satisfaction. “Syd and Lucas are probably digging up all kinds of dirt in an interrogation while we speak.”
“I’m just glad they got it sorted quickly,” Muffin said as she tested the sharpness of her claws on our new lounge suite. Both Brody and I gave her a forgiving smile. A quick perusal of great aunt Esmerelda’s spell book had given me the tools to make all the new furniture cat safe.
“It’s not finished yet. They still have to go through the list of people he’s been selling to and narrow the suspects down to one.”
“But they’ve got the means to do it, and that’s almost as good,” Brody said, flicking through the television channels on mute. “Once the police have a solid lead, it’s just a matter of time until they get all the evidence they need.”
“Pfft.” Muffin shook her head. “Those are the words of someone living in fairy land, all right.”
“I’m worried,” I admitted. “What if one of those teenagers comes into our house in the middle of the night and shoves a stake through our hearts?”
“We’re not vampires.”
I gave Brody a tickle. “Anyone would die if they’re stabbed with a wooden stake. Whether we’re vampires or not is irrelevant.”
“Maybe leave some baked treats on the counter so they’ll know we’re harmless,” Muffin suggested. “Everyone knows someone who bakes can’t be evil.”
“Is that something everyone knows? Or just kittens who’d eat for all the hours under the sun if they had the choice?”
“It’s hard work being a familiar. Those burned calories have to be replaced somehow.”
“Not by me, unless you can find a magic spell that creates muffins. My home economics teacher once chipped a tooth on my scones.”
“Pixie dust is great for some things,” Brody said with a chuckle. “But I’m reluctant to sample any baking that originates from your dandruff.”
“Then, you’re up. You work in a café all day so you must have some cooking ability.”
Brody burst into laughter. “There’s no correlation between those two things. I’d probably end up poisoning us all.”
“I’m open to ordering food in,” Muffin said with panic as her anticipated supper disappeared into thin air. “We could have it here in less than an hour.”
“Fair enough. I’ll do it.” Brody pulled my laptop over and typed in a search. “Get your orders in now.”
A faint shriek came from along the road. I frowned and tilted my head towards the sound. Many of the neighbours had children and they could occasionally sound in mortal danger when they were just playing cricket.
When the sound repeated, I went outside and stared down the street, frowning. The timbre of the voice sounded older than a child. Older than me.
A woman ran from a house, careering into the road, waving her arms. “Help.”
I ran to meet her, catching her arm and pulling her back to the safety of the footpath. “Are you all right?” I scanned her from head to toe, not seeing any obvious injury.
“There’s a-a b-body,” the woman said as Brody arrived at my side. Her teeth chattered together furiously, despite the lingering heat of the day.
“Take care of her and I’ll check it out.”
I sprinted for the front door of the house before Brody could protest. It stood ajar, a faint light spilling down the stairs from an upper room.
Keeping my hand gripped tightly on the bannister, I leapt up the stairs, taking them two or three at a time. On the landing, the sharp tang of iron hit the back of my throat. Blood.
With more cautious steps, I entered the room that had the light on. A man lay on his back on the floor. His eyes were open, staring at the ceiling. An opaque film had formed over the corneas, smudging their blue into tones of grey.
A stake jutted from his chest. His congealing blood covered the floor.
Chapter Ten
I sat on the curb, not bothered by the hard concrete or the filthy water puddled along the drain. My legs had turned to jelly at the sight of the dead man—the second in one day.
“Got room in that lap for one more?”
Muffin nuzzled against my hip and I wept a few tears as she slowly made a comfortable place for herself. The rev of her purring motor calmed me as the bustle of onlookers, the pathologist, potential witnesses, and policemen danced around me.
Lucas walked over and crouched in front of me, holding his notebook like a tiny shield. “We’ll need you to make a formal statement later when you’re up to it.”
“Can’t it wait until tomorrow?” Brody asked.
“It would be best if we got at least a cursory statement.” Lucas shifted his weight, then stood up, his knees cracking at the change. “Is it okay if I sit beside you?”
“Sure.” I glanced over as he shuffled around, trying to get comfortable. His small show of courtesy was the nicest behaviour he’d exhibited since losing his memory.
The shaken woman who’d been first to the scene stood farther along from us. Her arms were folded across her chest with such force the back of her dress strained against her bunched shoulders.
“I’m sorry,” I called out, waving to get her attention. “I don’t know your name.”
“Esther Brice,” she said, joining our small group. “I live one street over in Eckles Ave.”
“Well, we were sitting at home when I heard Esther screaming. Once I worked out that’s what the sound was, I came running down here in time for her to burst out of the front door, saying there was a body inside. Then I went to look for myself.”
“Nice and simple,” Lucas said, sounding relieved. “And Ms Brice? Why were you visiting the residence?”
Esther bent double, her face screwing up as though in pain. “My son,” she panted, trembling all over. Brody helped her to sit, and we waited in empathetic silence while she gathered herself. “My son,” she repeated. “There was a message on his phone telling him to spend the night here, filming
himself.”
“Really?” Lucas raised his eyebrows as he made a note. “What does that even mean?”
“Some of his so-called friends dared him.” Esther’s lower lip curled and for a second she resembled a rabid dog. “Now, I’m not homophobic or nothing but what are they doing? Applying peer pressure on my boy to make him spend the night with a strange man? It’s disgusting.”
“Oh, I don’t think they meant it that way,” I hastened to say, earning myself a faceful of angry mother.
“Are you in on it too?” Esther shook her head. “Just wait until you’ve got kids of your own, depending on you to protect them. Then see how you like it when a whole group gangs up on your little one.”
“It must be a terrible position to be in,” I said, reaching out to squeeze her forearm. “All I meant was the teenagers aren’t pimping him out to an older man. They’re daring him to stay in the house because there’s a common belief it’s haunted.”
Esther stared at me through narrowed eyes. “Really?”
“Yeah, really.”
Lucas caught up with his notes, then turned to Esther. “Do you have the message you saw? We’re trying to pin down the ringleaders.”
“Here. It’s all on his phone. The password is CARTER2004. My son isn’t blessed with originality.”
“Are all these texts about the haunted house?” Lucas said, sounding amazed.
Esther glanced at the screen. “Oh, no. There’s far more. PMs and DMs and group chats and every other form of communication you can imagine. Keep the phone if you like. I’m not paying a monthly charge for Carter to be corrupted. He’s already at home, grounded, so this can be an extra layer of punishment.”
I winced and put a hand to the hip pocket where my phone lived. Even if I wasn’t a queen on social media, I’d be bereft without my mobile.
“This sounds like a social media prank that’s getting way out of hand,” Lucas said in a dry voice. “Trespassing is bad enough but stabbing people in their own homes is absolute evil.”