by Paula Lester
“She was boring. And why be boring when you do the most interesting job in the world—ghost-hunting?”
Zoey smiled as though she agreed with Peter. “It does seem like an exciting career.”
Peter nodded, his hair flopping into his eyes, and he pushed it out again. “Oh, yes. You wouldn’t believe some of the things we’ve seen and heard. You could read my book and get a good idea of what we encounter on a daily basis around here.” As though by magic, Peter produced a copy of Tales from Beyond the Furthest Reaches and pushed it across the table toward them. “It’s on its way to being a bestseller.” He lifted his chin and pushed his glasses up.
“I read it. It’s wonderful,” Zoey said. “Your stories are riveting. I was on the edge of my seat, especially during the poltergeist stories.”
“It’s dangerous work,” he said. “Do you want to see our lab?”
Hope and Zoey nodded—Zoey a touch more eagerly than her partner because it meant they could get out of the tiny conference room.
“I don’t show many people, but since you’re so interested, come on back.” Peter stood and inched his way out of the chair. Leading the two women down a short hallway, he said over his shoulder, “We have state-of-the-art equipment. Better than Demi’s. She was a cheapskate who preferred to pocket all the money she brought in rather than reinvest it into her business.”
Peter opened a door at the end of the hallway and led them into a huge, shiny room with ten-foot ceilings. Two people sat at individual computer stations, staring intently at their screens. When they saw Peter, they both tapped their keyboards and removed the headphones they’d been wearing. “This is my team. George Westin and Alice Smith. Guys, this is Zoey and Hope—they’re working on Demi’s murder investigation.”
Peter’s employees both nodded. George looked like he was in his forties, a bit heavyset with cropped hair. Alice appeared to be in her mid-twenties, with thin, dishwater blond hair that hung to her shoulders and a matching straight, severe bang cut just above her eyebrows.
“Would you like to see some of our equipment?” Peter was definitely in his element, eager to show off.
The women nodded, and Peter spent a few minutes showing them the tools they used in the field. George piped up now and then to add to the conversation, but Alice didn’t say anything until Peter glanced at her and asked, “Did you re-calibrate the microphone this morning? I don’t want it to malfunction again when we go out this afternoon.”
The mousy woman stood, nodding as she moved closer to Peter. “Yes, I spent an hour cleaning and recalibrating it.” Her gaze was soft as she looked at her boss. It’s working fine.”
He smiled. “Thank you.”
Alice dipped her head, color appearing in her cheeks. She flipped her hair over her shoulder, and Zoey thought of how Hope had done that when she was flirting with Steve.
“Okay, we’d better get packed up for our field work.” George and Alice started moving around at Peter’s pronouncement, gathering things and packing them into bags.
“What’s today’s investigation?” Zoey asked.
“Poltergeist. I expect it will be a lot like the story of Jessica Miller in my book. Do you remember that one?”
Zoey nodded. Peter had written that Jessica had been murdered by her lover and, full of rage, couldn’t cross over. She’d remained trapped in the house she’d died in, doing everything she could to torment the current owners. Clear the Cobwebs, LLC hadn’t been able to help her cross, but they had managed to contain her using a series of incantations and an old object—a necklace that had belonged to the poor woman when she was alive.
“Yes, well, hopefully this case will be easier. Jessica was quite vicious and extremely dangerous.” Peter shook his head as though reliving the difficult time they’d had containing the poltergeist. Then he brightened. “I’m glad you enjoyed my book, though. It’s unfortunate that so many people are reading Demi’s book and taking it for gospel when she stole so much of my work. Some of her stories are taken word-for-word from my book!” Peter’s face reddened. “It was terrible how she had no scruples. Not in her personal or professional life.”
Zoey narrowed her eyes and exchanged looks with Hope. “You know, I read Demi’s book too, and I have to disagree with you. There was very little overlap between the two. You took very different approaches to the subject, and I definitely didn’t see any of the same stories.”
Peter’s eyes widened, and his face darkened even more. As he blustered, his glasses slid down his nose, and he didn’t bother to replace them. “She stole my work!” he cried, balling his fists. “You’re not a professional paranormal investigator. A layperson might not be able to see what she did, but it was transparent to me and my people.”
Alice crossed to Peter and lay a hand on his arm. He glanced at her and took a deep breath before directing his attention back to Hope and Zoey. “Am I a suspect? Is that why you’re here? Because I have an alibi.”
“We haven’t heard whether you’re an official suspect.” Hope spoke in a soothing tone. “We’re just gathering all the information we can about Demi and Grant’s contacts. But if you have an alibi, it would definitely help us along.”
“He was at investigations during the times of both murders,” Alice said softly. She crossed to a chest of drawers, opening one and rooting around a bit before pulling out two thumb drives. “These are copies. We always tape our investigations, beginning to end. Review these, and you’ll see that Peter was busy when both Demi and Grant were killed.”
Peter straightened his spine and crossed his arms. “There you go.” He tone held finality. “That should be all you need from me. Alice, could you please walk them back out to the waiting room?”
Zoey slipped the thumb drives into her purse, thanked Peter for his time, and she and Hope followed Alice out of the lab and back down the hallway to the lobby. The reception desk was empty, and Zoey wondered briefly where Daphne had gone.
“Do you like working for Peter?” Hope asked Alice.
A small smile played on the woman’s lips. “He’s brilliant.”
“Yes, he seems to be quite knowledgeable in his field. How long have you worked for him?”
“About a year and a half. I’m hoping to become indispensable to him so I can stay forever.” Her eyes dropped and she shifted her feet. “I have a lot to learn, though. Sometimes I’m a little clumsy.”
“Alice!” Peter’s voice boomed through the building, causing them all to jump a little. Alice turned and hurried away without another word.
“Well, what do you say we go watch some paranormal investigating?” Zoey asked.
Hope sighed and then swept an arm toward the front door. “Sounds like a blast. Let’s get to it.”
Chapter 8
Reviewing paranormal investigation recordings was excruciatingly boring. It mainly consisted of trying not to get nauseous while watching bouncy, dark footage of someone asking questions to the air and then waiting for a response that never came. There was also a lot of excited banter among the investigators about energy spikes and hot spots.
They were in Zoey’s office watching the footage on her big computer monitor, which she’d turned around on her desk to face the room. Hope lay on a loveseat, her head on one arm and her legs thrown over the other. Zoey sat in a chair by the small conference table, chin resting on her folded arms.
“This reminds me of high school when we did that speech on the origins of man.” Hope sighed loudly. “Remember we watched all those documentaries at my house for research, and it was like watching grass grow?”
“Yeah, I do. It was nice being at your house. Your mom is so sweet,” Zoey said wistfully. “I actually loved that project because she was so nice to me. I remember her giving us cookies.”
Hope gave her a sharp look. “That’s what you remember? Mom’s cookies?”
Zoey nodded and sat up. She had actually battled high anxiety during the project Hope referred to. That was the case any time s
he was assigned to a group project because there was no way people could go to her house. Her mom was a super powerful witch who had gone to the dark side, so home life was kind of tricky for her, and it definitely didn’t involve having other teenagers over.
When she’d gone to Hope’s house to work on that project, it had been peaceful and bright. Mrs. Vega, a plump woman who loved to look nice and always had her makeup and nails done just so, had baked for them and smiled lovingly at her daughter’s classmates. Zoey had felt an incredible longing to live in a home like Hope’s. Her own house always smelled like burnt sage, and her dad was the only sane person to talk to there. When he was even around. He wasn’t a witch and had absolutely no idea how to handle his powerful wife. She’d been sweet and loving when he’d first met her but had morphed into someone dark and twisted. He’d stayed at work as much as possible to avoid the situation. Zoey understood his actions now, but at the time, she’d been left trying to deal with things on her own. Add in navigating puberty and learning to use magic, and it was a pretty rough time.
“We didn’t have cookies much at my house.” She glanced at the screen, but it was more of the same crazy camera work and muffled questions to invisible ghosts.
“Yeah. I’m sorry about your mom,” Hope said softly. “Back then, I didn’t know what was going on with her. It seemed like you had a perfect life. Did you know I was kind of jealous of you?”
Zoey’s eyes widened. “Of me? Why?”
“You were a great swimmer, and the teachers all loved you. Plus you got the quarterback as a boyfriend. Then you went to college on a scholarship and landed this perfect job right away.” Hope waved a hand in the air to indicate the retirement home. “Seemed like you had a charmed life and I was always struggling.”
Zoey barked out a laugh. “That’s hilarious! You’re the one who always seemed to have it great to me. You’re tall, gorgeous, and had a great family life as a kid. Then you opened your shop, and it’s been super successful.”
Hope nodded. “I’m happy with where I am and what I’m doing now. And it just goes to show you that no one has a perfect life. Hey, stop the recording there.” She sat up on the loveseat and leaned forward as Zoey rushed to the computer to push the button. “Peter just excused himself to run out and grab coffee. Check the timestamp.”
Zoey backed the video up a bit and checked. Then she looked at Hope, her eyes wide. “Twenty minutes before the police suspect Demi was murdered. Let’s see when he came back.” She fast-forwarded until Peter re-entered the scene. “He was gone for forty-five minutes. That’s a long coffee run.”
Hope nodded and stood. “Let’s check the other video.”
As Zoey was changing the thumb drive, Maria, Howie, and Jerry entered her office. She hastily introduced the elderly residents to Hope.
“My DVD player is working as good as new again,” Howie said. His tiny little arms waved around as he spoke. He wore a red polyester tank top and his ever-present yellow and red terrycloth headband. “Jerry and I got our workout in already this morning.”
Jerry Holmes rolled his eyes. Although he and Howie claimed to be best friends, Jerry was much more subdued and eschewed exercise. “What are you watching?” He sat at the small table and pushed the shoulder-length hair away from his face.
“It’s a tape of a paranormal investigation team.” Zoey peered intently at the screen, fast-forwarding to get close to the time of Grant’s murder.
“Ghosts!” Jerry growled, sitting forward. His huge, bushy gray eyebrows bounced more animatedly than Zoey had ever seen. “Why didn’t you say so? I know about ghosts, you know. I was a sorcerer in my day and used many of them to my purposes.”
“Ah, here’s where everyone went.” A fourth resident, John Pickett hobbled into the room and sat heavily beside Hope on the loveseat. He took his glasses off and rubbed them on his shirt. “Did someone say ghosts?”
“We’re watching a ghost investigation tape, Snores,” Maria said, using John’s nickname. He slept more than their resident cat, Sasha.
“Why? Do we have a ghost here? I can wrangle it if we do. Many’s the ghost that got caught up in my magic back in the day.”
Zoey knew John had spent forty years with the Sunnyside Police Department, specifically working on magical crimes. He’d had a reputation for bending the rules while he was there, and that entire branch of the department had closed up shop when he retired. That’s why Luke had to call Zoey occasionally.
“We think a ghost might have been used to murder some people,” Hope explained. “Right now, we’re checking out the alibi of one of our suspects. He says he was doing investigations at the times of both killings.”
“Oh, ghosts can definitely murder people.” Snores put his glasses back on and nodded so hard they almost fell off. “I must have done a thousand ghost killing investigations.”
“A thousand?” Jerry scoffed. “That many people probably didn’t even die in Sunnyside while you were on the force, let alone get murdered specifically by ghosts.”
Snores scowled at the other retiree. “I did plenty, that’s for sure. Ghosts are mean and want everyone to be dead like they are. It’s a wonder ghosts haven’t killed us all.”
Zoey found the spot she wanted on the video and slowed it down to normal speed. She tried to ignore Howie as he began doing jumping jacks, breathing heavily. Luckily, she had a lot of practice concentrating while retirees did wacky things nearby.
“What’s everybody doing in here?” Steve asked as he entered.
“We’re helping Zoey with her investigation,” Maria said. “Come on in and join us, handsome.”
On the tape, Peter was excusing himself to run to the pharmacy and pick up a prescription. Zoey met Hope’s gaze across the room, and they both nodded. Bingo. Peter’s alibis didn’t hold up. He wasn’t on tape during the time of either murder.
“We might have both been right,” Zoey said, straightening up.
Hope nodded. “A poltergeist as a murder weapon but a hex performed by a witch to control it.”
“That wouldn’t be a hex,” Snores said. “It would be a portal.”
Hope’s eyebrows rose and then she nodded slowly. “You’re right. If the poltergeist didn’t already reside in the area the murder was to occur, someone would have to set up a portal and call it there magically.”
Snores nodded. “Yeppers. And that would require catching the poltergeist inside a physical object, leaving that object at the scene, and then scratching or writing runes onto other items in the area.” As soon as the words were out of his mouth, the old man laid his head back on the loveseat and fell asleep.
Hope was nodding almost furiously. She looked at Zoey. “He’s right. We need to go back to the crime scene and look for runes.”
Zoey was already heading toward the door of her office, purse in hand. “Steve, can you and Kelli keep an eye on things while I’m gone?”
“You got it, boss.”
As they headed toward the lobby, Zoey grinned, thinking about her earlier conversation with Hope. Everyone had their shortcomings and trials in life. There was no need to be self-conscious about hers anymore. “How about we take my car this time?”
Chapter 9
The police must have finished the investigation because the caution tape was gone. As Zoey and Hope approached the sidewalk, suddenly wondering how they were going to get into the house, Zoey caught sight of Chrissy walking down the sidewalk on the other side of the street. When she saw Zoey, the woman crossed over and approached them. “Have you figured out who the murderer is yet?” Her eyes were wide and red-rimmed, as though she hadn’t slept well in days.
Zoey shook her head. “Don’t worry, though. We’ll get it figured out.”
Chrissy hugged herself, rubbing her arms as she looked at Demi’s house, and Zoey suddenly remembered Nellie saying she had felt a cold chill when she’d walked by around the time of Demi’s murder.
Feeling even more confident about their conclusion that
a ghost or poltergeist had been used as the murder weapon, Zoey turned to Hope. “I don’t suppose they just left the door open, do you? We might have to get Luke to come over and let us in.”
But Chrissy was shaking her head. “The door wall in the back has a broken lock. Unless the police department fixed it or padlocked it or something, you should be able to get in that way. It broke a while ago, but Grant was always locking himself out of the front door, so Demi never got it fixed. They got to where they just used the door wall all the time.”
Hope and Zoey exchanged glances. Maybe the door wall was how someone had gotten in to set up the portal and call the poltergeist. Zoey couldn’t help but wonder about the fact that Chrissy knew exactly how to get into the house.
Chrissy wandered back toward her house, and Hope and Zoey picked their way through the grass along the side of the house until they got to the backyard, where a large concrete slab held some patio furniture and a grill. The yard was small but well-kept and fenced in. When Hope grabbed the door wall’s handle and gave a tug, it slid easily. They slipped inside, and Zoey flipped on the light switch.
Immediately, both women began looking around the living room, this time picking up items and peering at them closely for etched or drawn-on symbols. Suddenly, Zoey saw what she was after—the spine of one of the books on the shelf had small symbols drawn on it with a marker. Once she pulled it out and showed it to Hope, they began searching with even more excitement. They were on the right track. After fifteen minutes of hunting, they’d found six things in the living room with runes scratched or drawn onto them. They gathered the items and set them on the couch as they found them, and when it seemed as though they had discovered enough, stood together gazing at them.
“Well, that’s that, then. Someone built a portal and called a poltergeist which arrived and savagely murdered first Demi and then Grant.” Zoey shuddered, imagining how horrible it would be to die in your own home at the hands of a savage, raging apparition.