by Louise Lynn
Sheriff Cross sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. The way it was mussed, she imagined he’d been doing that a lot in the last hour.
"The lock on that door, I know Violet managed to pick it, but it doesn't have a normal keyhole on the outside. Why is that?"
Patricia blinked, and dabbed her eyes. "I don't know why. That's just the way all the locks are. They lock on the inside with a key, likely for privacy reasons."
Hazel nodded absently and worried her bottom lip.
"Wait? Are you saying the door was locked from the inside when he was killed? That proves it. You've seen the windows, haven’t you?" Patricia said. “They’re all nailed shut. They have been since as long as I remember."
Reluctantly, Hazel nodded.
Patricia didn't even spare a glance at Sheriff Cross. She rose and rushed across the room, coming to a stop in front of Hazel. She was several inches shorter, but her eyes were wild with an expression Hazel recognized from her own mother. "It was the ghost. The murderer. He's back to finish the job," she cried and put her hand over her mouth.
Chapter 7
"A ghost didn't kill Cameron Killian," Hazel said, and it felt like the hundredth time she’d muttered the phrase, though it was only the first.
It'd been running through her head ever since she got home from the Pearl House and fell into a fitful sleep. Anthony Ray woke her far earlier than she would've liked, and she stumbled out of bed to make coffee on her fancy newish cappuccino machine while fixing him a bowl of turkey and giblets—his favorite.
It wasn’t long after that the knock came at her door, and Hazel answered to find her mother standing there in a multicolored sweater and her double pom-pom knit hat with a box from Esther’s bakery, Let Them Eat Cake.
Now, Hazel held her second coffee in one hand and looked at the box of Esther's famous pumpkin muffins—limited time only—and narrowed her eyes at her mother.
Maureen put her hands up in mock surrender and bustled inside toward the kitchen. "I wasn't going to say a word about that. Really, after the night you had I wouldn’t go dredging up something so uncomfortable. Though I do know Patricia's quite upset," she said and busied herself by getting out plates.
Hazel could relate. Someone had been murdered inside her Wild @ Hart photography studio the previous January, and that hadn't been particularly pleasant. And he'd only been shot, not had his head caved in with an axe.
The thought made Hazel shudder.
After that, her mother had spread enough salt and sage around the studio in an effort to subdue ghosts that Hazel could still smell it. She had no idea what her mother would do to the Pearl House.
"Yeah, it was like something out of a horror film, really."
"Well, if you need any guidance into realms you're not quite familiar with, you know where to find me. Tess is beside herself. Poor girl."
Hazel slumped at the kitchen table and nursed her coffee. The smell of the fresh baked muffins, spicy and sweet, made her mouth water. “Did she know Cameron Killian? They acted like it, but I thought Tess was older than him."
Maureen tutted and put on the tea kettle. “Tess is ten years your junior, but I couldn’t make much sense of her this morning. She darted off with a pile of sage and incense."
Hazel raised a brow and dug into a muffin. She could hardly ever make sense of Tess on a good day. She couldn’t imagine trying to do so now. “It definitely sounded like they knew each other, and I’m sure Colton is going to want a word with her, considering she was there when Cameron was, well, horrifically murdered."
Maureen turned from the stove, a frown on her face, and pushed up her glasses. “Tess couldn’t harm anyone. We both know who killed that young man."
Hazel pursed her lips. She wasn’t going to have this argument so early in the morning, especially since she knew her mother wouldn’t admit a ghost didn’t kill Cameron Killian until they found the real non-ghost killer. “Fine, but he’ll still need a word with her. And I will too."
“You’re on this case? Isn’t that a conflict of interest, considering you’re working with Patricia?"
“Doesn’t Patricia want the killer found? I thought she’d be happy to know I was helping her and the police," Hazel said and finished her muffin.
It was funny, when she thought about it, that she’d reached a point in which she knew she was helping with a case without talking to Colton about it. The idea gave her a warm feeling in her belly, like fresh baked bread.
“Oh, you’re probably right. Like I said, Patricia is upset, but I have a feeling she’s going to milk this for her own good. She’s a lovely woman, but a bit of an attention seeker, if you know what I mean."
“I think I get it. She is using an infamous murder to open a bed and breakfast."
Maureen waved her hand in the air, like that idea wasn’t attention seeking enough. “Oh, that’s just her way. She’s always trying new businesses and failing at most of them. Don’t tell her I said that, by the way. She had a tie-dye shop here in Cedar Valley when you were girls. She tried to make it a New Age shop, like Esoterica, and it failed. Then she moved to Oregon and did who knows what. This might be a whim of hers, for all we know."
Hazel raised a brow. Opening a haunted bed and breakfast on a whim sounded like a terrible business plan. “I’m not sure what Patricia’s going to do about the house now. She can’t give tours while it’s a crime scene."
Maureen poured the hot water over a tea bag and settled at the table. “When this all blows over, I’m sure plenty of people will want to see the house even more. A murder like this is great from a business perspective. Don’t give me that look. The murder in your studio wasn’t showy enough. This one has echoes of the past weaved into it so perfectly it almost seems purposeful."
This time Hazel had to bite back the desire to laugh. In truth, it wasn’t funny. A man was dead, no matter how obnoxious he was. Or how much a charlatan Hazel thought he was. “You’re right on both counts. It’s way too perfect to be anything but well planned. But who would want to copy a crime like that?"
Maureen gave Hazel a meaningful look that she didn’t like one bit.
“Not a ghost," Hazel grumbled.
Beneath the table, Anthony Ray meowed in agreement.
The light caught her mother’s glasses and reflected it. “Tis the season for spirits, dear."
Hazel let that go and frowned at the empty plate. "Did you only get me one?"
Maureen laughed. "Esther says you're on a one muffin a day restriction for the month of October. Something about you buying a dozen last week and there were complaints?"
Hazel frowned. "I bought those for the Sheriff's Office, and I only ate two. If anyone complained it was probably Edith," Hazel said as an afterthought. Edith was Sheriff Cross’s ancient secretary, and she had only snagged one muffin before the box was empty.
Her mother sipped her tea. “Take it up with Esther if you have a problem. She’s trying to make sure there are enough of these treats for everyone, and she can only bake so much per day. Now, I say we have the family dinner at our house on All Hallow’s Eve. And I expect you to bring Colton this time."
Hazel swore her mother was one of the only people who go from talking about axe murder to talking about her daughter's boyfriend and make it seem natural. Fun even.
Hazel felt her stomach grumble and pressed her finger to her plate, picking up a few crumbs on it. “I’m not subjecting him to your home cooking anymore than I would subject him to mine. Now, I have to get to work, and I think you do too."
Her mother nodded and finished her tea. “I do, but you’re coming to dinner. And, Hazy, I meant what I said yesterday. The Pearl House is dangerous. I know you think it’s all hogwash, but for once, I need you to believe what I say."
Hazel licked the crumbs from her finger and reached down to pet Anthony Ray. “You say that like I’m not careful."
Her mother gave her a look. It was the sort of look she gave Hazel when she was a girl and said she
was going to tame a black bear. “Esther is the careful one. You’re too much like your father."
Hazel couldn’t help but grin at that, though the warning echoed in her ears. A cold chill shot up her spine.
Something about the Pearl House scared people, and now, Hazel had an idea why.
Chapter 8
When Hazel got to her studio that morning, Michael looked just as hollow eyed and exhausted as she felt. Anthony Ray trotted in front of her and greeted her assistant with a level look and a raised paw.
Michael wisely kept his distance and handed Hazel a latte from Celia's coffee shop, CATfeinated. "I just got here, and I wasn't sure if you were coming in today or not but…." His voice trailed off into nothing.
Hazel nodded tightly and took the coffee. Her third for the day, and not her last, considering how she felt at the moment. "Well, no rest for the weary. I have to go over those crime scene photos. Can you handle the ones from the Pearl House?"
Michael nodded, visibly relieved that she didn't ask him to do anything with the photos of Cameron Killian's dead body. Not that Hazel ever would. Forensic photography was her line of expertise.
They settled in the office and got to work on their own separate computers. The crime scene photos weren't any better to look at than they’d been to take, but Hazel managed to keep her latte down just fine. Anthony Ray curled in her lap didn't hurt matters either. Though, she didn't notice any new detail she hadn't picked up the night before.
Especially how the killer escaped from a room locked on the inside.
"Any ghosts?" she asked Michael when she finally finished her work.
Her assistant had been silent for the last hour, and when she glanced at him, she saw that his eyes were bloodshot. Right. He'd been a fan of Cameron Killian, or, of the young man's YouTube show, at least.
"Huh? Ghost? I don’t know. I mean, with the dim light there's a few fuzzy places in the distance, but they’re probably easily explained."
Hazel sighed. At least she didn't have to contend with her assistant claiming that every speck of dust was a spirit of some kind. "Look, I know you liked Cameron Killian's show and everything. If you need to take a few days off, you can."
Michael wiped his nose on his sleeve and shook his head. "No. Actually, I wanted to help you with this case, I mean. I know I'm just your assistant, but I've been watching you solve crimes for months now, and you even saved me at one point. I thought I could pay it forward."
Hazel's chest warmed, and she nodded slowly. "I'll run it past Sheriff Cross, but I don't see why he'd have a problem with it. Do you have anything in mind?"
Michael shrugged his pudgy shoulders and yanked at his hoodie’s zipper.
"I'm not sure. I mean we were snapping pictures in an effort to catch something supernatural and to showcase the house, right? Well, Tess is in some of them. But then there's this weird thing," he said and pointed at his screen.
Hazel scooted closer. "What thing?"
“I swear I didn't see her go downstairs when we were on the third floor. Did you?"
Hazel thought about it, and slowly shook her head. She had assumed that Tess was upstairs with Michael when the lights went out, but maybe that wasn't the case. She had been looking at her phone after she'd finished taking photos, so it was possible Tess had slipped past. “Unless you caught either the killer or a headless ghost on camera, I don’t think it’ll help," she said and petted Anthony Ray.
He perked up and blinked at Michael's computer monitor as if he completely understood what was going on. Hazel wondered if he did. He was smarter than the average cat.
Michael clicked to the next series of photos. "Tell me what you think."
The photo seemed to be taken from a third story window, looking down at the grounds towards the lake. Hazel squinted and leaned in. She vaguely remembered turning her lens out a few of the windows on the servant’s level, but she wasn't sure if they would come out properly considering the light was so dim below.
The trees cast heavy shadows, but she managed to catch the reflection of Lake Celeste in the distance, and the moonlight was bright enough to make out distinct shapes.
One shape in particular.
The shape glowed a ghostly pale green. It looked like something dark sat on its back. Dark and hunched. Or maybe—
"Is that what I think it is?" Hazel said and felt her heart hammering in her chest.
"It looks like a horse. And—“ Michael clicked to the next photo, “it’s glowing," he finished, a bit unnecessarily.
Hazel sucked in a sharp breath. “What’s on its back?"
“A person, I think, only I don’t see a head or anything. It could be the angle."
“I took these?"
Michael nodded slowly. "I wouldn't have even noticed the horse if I didn't have the magnification turned up. I take it you didn't see it at all?"
Hazel shook her head. "If I had, I would've said something. This must've been what, ten or fifteen minutes before the power went out?"
Michael double checked the timestamp. “One fifteen a.m."
Hazel stared at the screen, and that chill that shot up her spine earlier at her mother's warning felt like solid ice now. She'd managed to catch something this strange on camera, and she had no idea at the time. “Did you hear something odd around the same time?"
Michael blinked. “Like what?"
Hazel wasn’t sure she wanted to say. Here on her screen was a glowing horse—the same thing she’d thought she’d heard the night before. Only, she hadn’t imagined it in spectral form. “I thought I heard horse hooves last night."
Michael puffed out his cheeks. “Oh, hey, I did hear something clomping outside, but I didn’t know what it was. You think it was this?"
“Not sure, but I need to show this to Sheriff Cross right away."
"I haven't finished going through the photos, so do you want me to do that first or go now?" Michael said. She saw the shadow of a smile on his lips.
"I'll go now, and I'll make sure to let him know you found this," she said and squeezed his shoulder.
As Michael made a copy of the relevant photos, Hazel decided to give the Sheriff's Office a call. However, instead of Colton, she got a terse message from Edith that Sheriff Cross had driven to North Lake City that morning to speak with Cameron Killian’s parents.
Right. They lived on Lake Celeste. That meant she'd have to wait for him to return before she could tell him about the photos. No point making him rush back to town for a piece of evidence that might not lead them anywhere, especially when he was doing something much more difficult.
No matter how much they zoomed in, there wasn't enough detail to show if the horse had a rider, possibly a headless one. There were far too many shadows and it was taken at too much of a distance.
Still, Hazel didn’t think it was as supernatural as Michael acted.
“I’d be more surprised by this if one of the people at the Pearl House last night wasn’t a master of horror makeup. Cameron’s friend could have done this, I’m sure."
Michael blinked. “But why have a glowing horse randomly walk outside? That doesn’t make sense."
Hazel bit her lip. He was right. It didn’t. But neither did a real ghost horse. Or a murderous ghost. “It makes more sense than the headless ghoul of Massacre Mansion killing someone, don’t you think?"
Michael gave her a half-hearted nod.
It also meant she knew who to talk to first off. Josh Hopkins—makeup artist extraordinaire.
Her stomach growled, and she looked at the time. Noon already. "New plan, I'll get us lunch while you look through the rest of those pictures?"
Michael's eyes lit up and he nodded. "Sounds good. Sheriff Cross not in?"
Hazel explained the situation, and Michael’s expression sobered. She knew how he felt. Cameron Killian may not have been at the top of her favorite person list, but he was someone’s son, and they, no doubt, would be devastated by the news.
Due to the crisp autumn w
eather, they decided on soup for lunch, though that didn't really narrow down where they would eat. It seemed every restaurant in Cedar Valley had a different variation of soup, and it took several minutes to agree on what kind they wanted. They settled on Mexican wedding with a quesadilla on the side.
Hazel threw on her coat and hooked Anthony Ray to his leash after she called in the order. Together, they stepped out into the cool air. It bit at her cheeks pleasantly, and she sucked in a deep breath.
She turned to walk toward the Mexican place. It was on Lake Street, like everything important in Cedar Valley, but since the restaurant overlooked the lake, it was easier to reach the back way.
Plus, Hazel was never one to give up a walk along Lake Celeste. No matter how many times she gazed at its brilliant blue surface, she'd never tire of it. She was looking through the ponderosa pines when she noticed a man standing there.
She stopped mid-step.
Anthony Ray twitched his ears and glanced at her.
"Who is that?" she asked her cat.
He answered with a meow.
The man in question didn't look as if he were hiding, and he didn't seem to have a destination in mind from the way he shambled through Lakefront Park. The ground was covered in a thick layer of pine needles and freshly fallen pine cones, and the young man absently kicked them. His chin pressed to his chest, and his hands were shoved into the pockets of his orange hoodie.
There was something familiar about him.
Not Cameron, obviously.
No, this was someone else—Josh.
After what she’d seen, Hazel needed to speak. Sheriff Cross might be out of town at the moment, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t investigate a touch on her own.
She cleared her throat and stepped into the park. The trees did little to stop the chilly breeze, and they whipped up the surface of Lake Celeste, turning the tranquil waters into fierce white-capped waves.
“Josh? Are you looking for someone?" she called.
The young man froze at the sound of his name and whipped around. When he saw Hazel, his shoulders slumped. "Oh. The photographer. Right. What are you doing here?" he said as if he were accusing her of something.