by Amy Boyles
“One day the Hudsons just vanished. They were in business on a Monday, and by Tuesday they were gone.”
I swallowed a knot in my throat. “What happened to them?”
Fannie rocked her chair back and forth. The creaking was the only sound in the room. “My dear, no one knows what happened to them. That”—she poked the air—“is a great mystery. If you can solve it, I’ll give you one of my cats.”
Ugh. No thanks. But I did plan to find out what happened to the Hudsons. For that I would need some help. Luckily I knew exactly who to ask.
EIGHT
“I need some information about Haunted Hollow and want to speak to Mr. Hodges.” My gaze cut to Alice. “He likes you. You want to come with me so he’ll help?”
Alice’s face blushed a deep red. “What do you mean, he likes me?”
“Y’all went on a date. He likes you.”
Words stumbled out of her. “We only went on one date. One. We’ve never been out again.” She folded her arms and huffed. “That doesn’t mean he’s still interested.”
I shot Ruth a pointed look. “Y’all had a great date, and you never went out with Hodges again. He likes you.”
“How do you know we had a great date,” Alice said accusingly.
“Because you told me,” I said with frustration. “You told me that y’all had a great date. It was so good you swore to never go out with him again for fear of—whatever. Losing your heart. Your mind. Maybe your glasses.”
“What I wouldn’t give for that woman to wear contacts,” Ruth said. “She’s always losing her frames. ‘Where did I put my glasses, Ruth?’ She calls me on the phone and asks me.” Ruth threw up her hands. “How should I know? I don’t sleep next to you.”
I bit back a laugh.
Alice’s lower lip trembled. “I just think you might have a good idea of where I leave my glasses, is all. I don’t always remember.”
Ruth rolled her eyes.
I flared my arms. “Y’all, focus. This morning I discovered a couple of things. The first one is that the big bad in the Jarvis house is bigger and badder than I thought.”
Ruth’s mouth gaped. “How so? Are you okay, Blissful?” She reached out and massaged my biceps like I was a boxer readying to fight.
I shrugged away. Ew. Touching. I just wasn’t a big toucher. I made an exception for Roan, obviously, because if you saw that guy’s hands, you’d be taking a cold shower for an hour. But other than Roan, I didn’t do the touchy-feely stuff.
“I’m okay,” I confirmed. “But that spirit challenged me. And it told me he would harm the Jarvis family unless I let him have me. He also said the master wanted me.”
“Ooh, that is spooky,” Alice said. “I’m glad I’m not you, Blissful. This sounds scary.”
“Thank you, Alice,” I said flatly. “So I’ve got a big bad I need to deal with. No way am I going to let him hurt that family.”
“We,” Ruth corrected. “We’ve got a big bad to deal with.”
“Ruth—”
She sliced a hand through the air. “No arguments. We’re a team. Alice and I might not be in our twenties, but we can hold our own with ghosts.”
Alice lifted a cardboard box full of balloons. “See? I’ve still got my spirit holder.”
For some reason Alice thought spirits could be held in water balloons. I’d tried to tell her that simply wasn’t possible, but sometimes I just had to let an argument go because Alice couldn’t be convinced otherwise.
And basically, I think Alice was humoring me when she used my fancy gadgets on spirits. All she really wanted to do was tote her balloons everywhere we went.
“Hold that thought.” I crossed to the door. “The other thing I discovered is that the family who ran the inn, the Hudsons, just up and vanished one day.”
Ruth’s eyes widened. “You don’t say.”
“I do say. So that’s why we need Mr. Hodges. He runs the bookstore, so my guess is he’s got some information on Haunted Hollow in the seventies. He might be able to help.”
“Oh.” Alice’s gaze darted to her lap.
“‘Oh’ is right. That’s why I need you, Alice. If you’re in there, Hodges may go out of his way to help. Otherwise I’m not sure how much assistance I’ll receive.”
“Oh, well, I don’t know. I have an awful lot of booties to knit.”
Our three heads swiveled to the front window where a mountain of baby booties were piled person-high.
“Just go with Blissful.” Ruth crossed to Alice and pushed.
Alice hunched her shoulders. “I’m not going.”
Ruth strained to heave Alice from the chair. “If you don’t go, I’ll tell Hodges myself that you want to get into his pants.”
Alice jumped off the seat as if it had been full of lit firecrackers. “You wouldn’t dare!”
Ruth wagged a finger. “I would, too. Now get your coat on and let’s the three of us go to Blustery Books.”
With Alice rightfully put into her place, we tromped down the street to the only bookstore in town.
My fingers curled around the door handle. “Ladies, hold on to your wallets. If Ricky’s in there, that ghost’ll steal whatever he can.”
That was the truth. The first time I entered the store, the ghost child, Ricky, stole my wallet. It took two more trips to finally get it back from him. That spirit was pesky.
Alice hugged her purse to her chest. “The only way someone’s getting in here is with dynamite.”
Ruth poked the air. “I’ll remember that. Let’s go.”
The bell tinkled when we entered. Dust motes floated on sunbeams, and dark wood gleamed around us. I inhaled deeply. The scent of paper and oily polish filled my nose. It was the sort of place that you wanted to grab a book and curl up in a chair. Maybe fall asleep. Maybe just read all afternoon.
A few tourists lingered inside, picking up this book or that. Some of the more popular ones were the history books chock-full of facts regarding the ghosts who haunted our town, as it were.
A cheery voice called out from behind the counter. “What can I do for y’all?”
I quickly swept behind Alice and shuffled her forward.
Her body stiffened. “Blissful, there is no need for that. You don’t have to push— Oh, hello, Hodges.”
Mr. Hodges’s eyes sparkled behind his glasses. “Well if it isn’t Alice Cassidy. It’s mighty good to see you. I hear your business is doing well.”
I could feel Alice blushing through her shirt. That’s how hot she got. I had to bite my lower lip to keep from chuckling.
“The ghost hunting business is doing very well, thank you.”
His smile widened to show a row of perfectly straight front teeth. “I’m happy to hear that. There’s been a lot of buzz about the work y’all do.”
Alice tried to point to me, but since I was behind her and technically pushing her forward, she ended up looking more like a chicken flapping her wings than anything else.
“Oh, it’s not me who’s to thank for that. It’s Blissful here. She’s so good at what she does.” She leaned forward. “Did you know she could see ghosts?”
Hodges’s gaze cut to me. “You don’t say. That’s a very interesting talent.”
“It sure is,” Alice replied.
Silence settled between the two. I shot Ruth a questioning look. She shrugged as if she wasn’t sure what to do next.
Oh, for Pete’s sake.
I came around Alice and rested my fingers on the counter. Hodges and Alice stood shooting goofy smiles at one another. Time to get things moving.
“Hi, Mr. Hodges.”
He dragged his gaze from Alice. Boy, did this guy have it bad or what? “Well, hello there. Nice to see you again. What brings you ladies in?”
“We have a question about a house.” I scanned the books behind the counter. Several titles referenced the history of Haunted Hollow.
“Which house would that be?”
“It’s one out on Ghoul Avenue. An
old empire-style home. Was a bed-and-breakfast in the seventies—or so I’m told.”
Hodges’s eyebrows shot to peaks. “The house where they found the body?”
I nodded. “That’s the one.”
“Blissful’s trying to help the spirit of a girl there.” Alice pushed her glasses up her nose. “Says she’s trapped.”
“Thank you, Alice,” I said, hushing her. I didn’t need everyone in town to think I was absolutely loony, now did I? It was one thing to see spirits, quite another to say you were out there helping them.
People tended to think that sort of talk was nonsense. To be honest, I didn’t blame them. Who would believe that some chick with violet-colored hair was trying to help a ghost?
Sounded crazy, right? Even I thought it sounded crazy, and I was the person doing the helping.
“What Alice means to say,” I added quickly, “is that the home is an interesting place. I spoke to one of the next-door neighbors, and she explained that the couple who lived there during the seventies—the Hudsons, who ran the bed-and-breakfast—often had the police called on them. The neighbor thought the whole thing was a domestic abuse issue, but the husband never got arrested. Then she said one day the couple up and left. They just vanished”—I snapped my fingers—“like that.”
Hodges nodded in understanding. He grabbed one of the books and flipped through it. “The house you’re referring to was originally known as the Gambrell house. It’s one of the few empire-style homes in the area. That style wasn’t as popular in the South as it was up North.”
He licked a finger and hummed quietly as he flipped the pages. “Ah, here it is.” He tapped the page and read. “‘The Gambrell home is one of the oldest in Haunted Hollow, dating back to the late 1800s. Though no one has witnessed spectral activity on the site, it has a mysterious history. Few owners lasted more than five years, and on more than one occasion people have simply vanished from the place. The first such report of folks vanishing came in 1910, when the Gambrells themselves left in haste. Though many folks have speculated the vanishing had more to do with Mr. Gambrell’s outstanding debts, nothing has ever been corroborated and Mr. Gambrell was never heard from again.’”
Ruth released a low whistle. “That is strange. Very creepy. I knew that place smelled evil.”
I scowled at her as if to say, Not in front of Hodges. Then I gave Mr. Hodges a big smile. “All of that is very interesting. You’ve lived in this town a long time, haven’t you?”
“I certainly have. Owned Blustery Books for twenty years.”
“Do you know anything else about the house?”
Alice pressed herself against the counter. “Anything you can tell us would be very helpful.”
“I do remember when the place was a B and B. I also remember when the owners left. A lot of gossip circulated. Some folks thought it was a Rear Window situation, where the husband had killed his wife and ran off. But I tell you, I met that Mrs. Hudson, and what I can say about her is there’s no way that woman would’ve let a man kill her. She was fierce—fierce as they come. If anything was going to happen to one of them, it would’ve been Mr. Hudson.”
Alice’s eyes widened. “Hodges, I’ve never heard you speak like that.”
His gaze dropped to the book. His lips puckered, and a tune whistled from his lips for a moment. “Well, Alice, I guess you’ve never asked me what I think about town gossip. There are a lot of things that’ve happened in this place. A lot of ghosts. A lot of history that made those spirits. Not all of it can be good.”
Alice slowly nodded. “I suppose you’re right.”
“Does the name Molly Menzel mean anything to you?”
Hodges’s gaze shifted back to me. “Molly Menzel.” He chewed on the words. “Molly Menzel. Something familiar about it, but I can’t pinpoint what.”
“Oh, that’s the name of the woman they found,” Alice said mysteriously. “The spirit told Blissful.”
I rolled my eyes. I mean, really. Could Alice make me look a bigger idiot in front of Mr. Hodges?
Wait. Don’t answer that question.
“Is there anything else you can think of?” I kicked my toe gently against the counter wall as I sorted through all the details the book had given. “Does the book have anything else?”
“It lists a few more names and when they vanished from the home, but most of those occurrences were due to economic shifts. So it may simply have been that people weren’t able to afford it, so they simply abandoned it.”
“Something’s off about that place,” Ruth mused.
Hodges smiled. “I’ll make a copy of the page.”
I pulled my wallet from my coat. “Don’t bother. I’ll buy it. It might help in other cases.”
Hodges rang me up and bagged my purchase. “Here you go—The Haunted History of Haunted Hollow, Alabama.”
“Thank you.”
Hodges wagged a finger at me. “There’s one more thing.”
I hooked the bag on my wrist. “What’s that?”
He grabbed a pen from his shirt pocket and a business card. He jotted something down and slid it over the glossy counter to me. “If you need help sorting out the details, there’s one man I know who can help.”
I took the card. “What do you mean?”
“If you have other questions about the house and have run into a few hiccups or dead ends, he might be able to assist. He’s a private investigator.”
I frowned. “Why would I need him?”
Hodges motioned to Ruth and Alice. “From what they’re saying, you’ve got quite a bit on your hands. This man’s talents are a bit…unusual. If you need him, give him a call.”
“What do you mean by unusual?”
“You would just have to see.” Amusement sparked in Hodges’s eyes. I was about to ask him more when another customer entered and needed help finding a certain book.
As Hodges walked off, I flipped over the card.
“What’s it say?” Ruth dipped her nose over my shoulder.
“Some guy called Axel Reign. Strange name.”
“What’s stranger is how Hodges was acting about him.” Ruth glanced over her shoulder at the bookshop owner. “Do you think this Axel guy has the same clairvoyant powers you do?”
I shrugged. “No clue. But there’s one way to find out.”
Alice peered at it. “Are you going to call him?”
I fanned myself with the card as I debated it. “For a murder that’s forty years old, I might have to. But there’s something I need to do first.”
Alice’s eyebrows curled into question marks. “What’s that?”
I shot her a secretive smile. “Open up a box.”
NINE
I didn’t get a chance to open the box at Southern Ghost Wranglers. Actually I made up an excuse so I wouldn’t have to open it in front of Alice and Ruth because to be honest, I didn’t know how to work the equipment that was inside.
So I took the box home and was greeted by my friendly neighborhood spirit, Susan Whitby.
“It is like, totally cool to see you, Blissful.”
I unwrapped my scarf and draped it over a chair. No, I was not going to win the Neatest Housekeeper of the Year Award. I often draped clothes on chairs and things because—well, if you really wanted to know the truth, sometimes I was lazy.
Besides, it was only me in the house, and I had more than one chair. The others might feel lonely and neglected if I didn’t drape inanimate objects over them.
“Susan, where’ve you been?”
“Oh, out and about.” She lounged on my couch, filing her nails and drinking a ghostly can of beer.
“Can you even taste that?” I nodded toward the can.
“Nah, I just like the way it looks.”
Susan Whitby had been murdered in the eighties, and she dressed to prove it. She wore brightly colored clothes, giant red earrings, blue eyeliner and teased her hair to the sky. She smacked gum like it was nobody’s business and used awesome words and p
hrases like rad, gnarly and gag me with a spoon.
She was a hoot.
“What’ve you been up to, Blissful?”
I set the box on a table. “I’ve been investigating the old Gambrell house. Seems there’s a nasty spirit in there who wants to screw with me.”
Susan didn’t say anything, which was not normal for her.
“Susan? Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.”
Another long stretch of silence filled the room.
I plopped onto a chair that had a habit of poking me in the tush with its ancient springs. “Ouch.” I leaned on one hip. “Out with it, Susan. What did I say?”
“Oh, nothing.”
“Susan,” I growled. “If you don’t tell me, I’m going to hide all my nail polish from you.”
“You wouldn’t dare,” she screeched.
“I would.” I pulled my hair over one shoulder. “Now. What is it?”
“It’s just… no one goes near the Gambrell house.”
“No one or no spirit?” I picked up a magazine and pretended to pay attention to it while I flipped through. Actually it wasn’t hard to pay attention because the hottest man in the world had just married the most beautiful woman and everyone was celebrating how gorgeous they both were and I wondered if I could get my arms as tone as hers if I did a few more push-ups in the morning.
I tossed the grocery store impulse-buy bait onto the coffee table. “Tell me about the house.”
“There’s an evil spirit in there.”
“That I know.”
Susan sipped from her can. “That’s all I can tell you. Only a spirit stupid enough to risk being attacked would go there.”
“Do you know who it is? Who’s the spirit?”
She shook her head. “I have no clue.”
I chewed the inside of my lip, trying to find a chink in that ghost’s armor. “The spirit appeared to me like a black blob. It was very strange. I’ve never seen a ghost do that. Have you?”
She shrugged.
“Susan. Is there something you’re not telling me?”
“I’m telling you everything I know.” She raised her can and shook it. “Oops. All empty. Looks like I totally have to go and get more beer. This stuff was really gnarly. See you, Blissful!”