by Angie Fox
“I’d be pleased to visit the family again,” I told him. Now that the ghosts were free and happy, his haunted house should be no problem.
“Yes, we need the whole story,” Ovis said, stepping from the overgrown bushes near the door of the carriage house. He snapped a quick picture of the inside before pointing his camera at us.
Chapter 23
We let Ovis have his story. It was the least we could do. And, truly, there was no stopping him anyway. Half the town had already heard about the artifacts on the police scanner.
Lee and I even posed for Ovis in front of Robert’s truck. It was a heck of a find.
And when archaeologists went through it, they found an ancient vial with the remnants of agathodaemon, a very ancient, very lethal poison.
On further review, the long-forgotten toxin was found in the professor’s body and in Jack’s whiskey bottle.
Dale Grassino’s death was officially ruled a case of accidental ingestion, but Ellis and I both knew the professor was an unintended victim of a century-old murder plot.
* * *
A short time later, Lee and I kept our promise to go back into the house. This time, we made sure we knocked before Lee opened the front door.
Jack sat in the parlor, smoking a cigar, while his wife did embroidery. Charlotte played dolls on the floor, with the governess looking on.
“Sorry if we’re intruding,” I said, fighting off a smile. “We just wanted to check in and see how you’re doing.”
Jack stood, his cigar in his mouth. He grabbed his whiskey off the table and came to greet us. “It’s amazing,” he said, clapping Lee on the back, his hand going straight through, “we’re a family again.” He stood close to his grandson. “And I’m so proud of you.”
“I’ll tell him,” I assured the ghost.
Annabelle stood behind her husband, tears in her eyes. “It’s a dream come true.”
“I’m so glad you’re happy here,” I told them, and I was.
Charlotte inched between them, clutching a doll with a pink dress very similar in color to the sundress I wore. “I like your doll,” I told her.
“Her name is Verity,” Annabelle said.
Maybe I wouldn’t think on that too much.
The governess stood near the stairs. “Can I have a moment?” I asked her.
She nodded and allowed me to walk her to the settee by the door.
“Thank you for saving my life,” I said simply. “It was a brave thing to do, to stand up to Robert like that.”
“I didn’t want you here at first, but when you were kind to Charlotte…” Her eyes glassed over and she swallowed hard. “She never spoke to me in life, but after she died, she came through to me on the Ouiji. I stayed to protect her.”
And it seemed she’d never left.
“I saw her hiding behind your skirts on that first day.”
“She was afraid. So was I. No one had ever come into our house before.”
It had been terrifying for all of us. “Did the darkness keep you in the house all those years?”
Her gaze darted to the floor. “When I was alive, I tried to free them. I could sense their spirits. I saw Robert’s ghost in the arbor outside the carriage house. I went out at midnight to perform a ritual to try to untangle them from the dark presence. But when I lit the candles, the flames leapt at me. They burned me.”
Robert hadn’t wanted to go anywhere, not without his find.
“That was very brave of you to try,” I told her.
She refused to meet my eyes. “I thought the Eye of Horus had protected me from harm. That my mystical talents had spared me when the family had perished.” She let out a short laugh. “I wasn’t special. I just wasn’t a target.”
“I’m so sorry you had to go through this alone,” I told her.
“I had Charlotte.” She turned her scarred side away from me and I let her have her privacy. She didn’t want pity, just dignity.
“How did Robert die?” I asked.
She pursed her lips. “I don’t know. Shock?” She swallowed and gazed up at the stairs. “When he came down that staircase, soaking wet, holding Mrs. Treadwell, I nearly fainted myself. Robert was mad with grief. I told him to sit down. That I’d fetch him a sherry.”
I straightened. “Did you take it from one of the bottles on Mr. Treadwell’s bar cart?”
She blinked, not understanding. “There was only one bottle there. I don’t drink, so I can’t say what it was. I’m sure it was as good as sherry. I doubt he’d have tasted it anyway. He wouldn’t stop pacing. He only took a sip. Then he died.”
So Robert had died of his own poison. I found it hard to feel sorry for him.
The ghost held my gaze. “I’m glad you stayed even after I tried to force you out. I feared for your safety and your life, but you were brave, and you set us free.”
“Thank you for safeguarding us.” Her room had been a literal lifesaver.
I doubted she’d have kept her job if the family had known their governess dabbled in the occult, but I was sure thankful for it.
“I did not die by Robert’s hand. Just from old age,” she stated simply, as if it were that easy to create the life she had for herself. “I protected myself and my space as best as I could.”
“I’m lucky for it,” I told her, “and for you.”
* * *
A few weeks later, I hosted a dinner party at my house. Ellis brought the plates and the utensils. Melody supplied a chicken. Lee came bearing the most beautiful fruits and vegetables I’d seen yet. We’d invited the Treadwell ghosts as well, but they had each declined. Seems they were occupied enjoying their freedom and each other.
I served fresh asparagus and strawberry salad along with roast chicken and gravy.
“I’m so glad it all worked out,” Melody said, having a second helping of strawberry salad. “Ghosts love my sister.” She winked at me. “And so do I.”
Most ghosts liked me, when they weren’t in pain. Or playing poker out on the back porch. Frankie let out a whoop, which most likely meant he’d won another hand. That ghost was having a good night, and so was I.
After dinner, I snuck out onto the porch to check out his hand.
“Lucky at cards…” I said, watching him discard a two of clubs while keeping three kings and an ace.
“Unlucky at love,” he answered, pulling a second ace from the pile. “I still can’t believe you’re eating at a card table,” he said, adjusting the cards in his hand. “You could have made a mint off Lee Treadwell.”
“Actually, it turns out I couldn’t.” Even if I had been greedy.
The complete set of canopic jars, along with the mummy and the effigies of the three princesses, proved Jack had found the tomb of the lost queen. Ovis’s news article and photographs went global.
After almost a century, Jack Treadwell was finally famous. Well, in Internet terms, which meant it lasted less than a week.
Jack had missed the entire thing. He was too busy admiring his new afterlife.
As for Lee, the Egyptian government confiscated the artifacts. The queen’s artifacts were a national treasure, and nobody should be denied their heritage.
Professor Grassino was praised for his role in uncovering the find, and the exhibit of the artifacts at the Museum of Egyptian Antiquities in Cairo would be named in his honor.
And the press did us some good. The Sugarland Historical Society committed people and money to make improvements to the house and set up a foundation to maintain it.
I did a few radio interviews around town, telling the story of my first ghost-hunting job and drumming up donations for Lee’s cause.
“But what about you?” Frankie prodded, lowering his cards down to the table. “What do you get?”
“All the veggies I can eat,” I told him. “Plus, Lee wrote a check for five hundred dollars out of his personal checking. He gave it to me tonight.” He shouldn’t have, but he did.
“It’s not a lot,” Frankie mutte
red.
“It’s more than he can spare.” Plus, it meant I could buy supplies for a little building project I’d been planning.
I motioned to my hunky guy to come on outside and he did, leaving the screen door flapping in his wake.
“You tell him?” he asked.
“Not yet.” I wanted Frankie’s full attention when I let him in on my plan to build his gang a shed out past the pond. The South Town boys would have a permanent place to get their rowdy on. Ellis even said he could add a raised area near the cornfield that could serve as a stage.
“Or you could not tell him and we can go shopping for a kitchen table,” Ellis said. “I know someone who would give you a deal.”
“The South Town boys need my help,” I told him. “You get better bands when you have a stage.”
Then maybe they’d pass out there instead of in my pond.
“I’ll get a table after the next job,” I told Ellis.
He wrapped an arm around me. “I know you will.”
Frankie might not have been paying attention, but I had a feeling some of the other ghosts heard. The daisy pot rattled and I swore I heard a splash from the pond. Let them celebrate. Life on the other side should be good.
I was certainly grateful. We’d solved the haunting at Rock Fall. Ellis and I were together. And if I was lucky, I might—just might—be able to make a go of it as a ghost hunter.
The disposable phone in my pocket vibrated.
“I wonder who that could be,” I said. I hadn’t given out the number to anyone except for Melody and Ellis…and in that radio interview this afternoon. “Oh, Ellis. I think this could be it.” I stepped away from him and answered.
The static on the other end of the line was deafening. A woman’s voice crackled in the midst of it. “We need you.” She sounded hollow, far away.
“Who is this?” I pulled the phone away to check the caller ID.
“I recognize that number,” Ellis said. “It’s the main number for the Sugarland Heritage Society.”
I had a sudden, irrational thought that this had better not be his mother. Virginia Wydell had sat on the board of the society for as long as I’d been alive.
The phone crackled as I brought it to my ear again. “Sorry. I didn’t catch your name. What can I do for you?”
There was no answer, and for a second, I thought I’d lost her. Then, the voice came through again. “There’s been a murder.”
* * *
Note from Angie Fox:
Thank you so much for dropping in on Verity, Ellis, Frankie, and the rest of the gang in Sugarland, Tennessee. Deader Homes and Gardens is my love letter to the classic gothic mystery and it was a complete joy to write.
The next book is called Sweet Tea and Spirits and it’s available now.
If you like these mysteries, and want to know when new ones come out, sign up for my newsletter. You’ll receive an email on release day, and in the meantime, your information will be kept safe by Lucy and a pack of highly-trained guard skunks.
Happy reading,
Angie
* * *
Don’t miss the next
Southern Ghost Hunter mystery
Sweet Tea and Spirits
Southern girl Verity Long is about as high society as her pet skunk. Which is why she’s surprised as anyone when the new head of the Sugarland social set invites her to join the "it" girls. But this is no social call. Verity’s new client needs her to go in undercover and investigate strange happenings at the group’s historic headquarters.
But while spirits are whispering hints of murder, the socialites are more focused on Verity’s 1978, avocado-green Cadillac. And when Verity stumbles upon a fresh body, she's going to need the long-dead citizens of Sugarland to help her solve the crime. Good thing she has the handsome deputy sheriff Ellis Wydell on hand, as well as her ghostly sidekick Frankie. The bad thing is, the ghosts are now whispering about the end of a certain ghost hunter.
Sweet Tea and Spirits
Available now!
Also by Angie Fox
Keep track of Angie's new book releases by receiving an email on release day. It's fast and easy to sign up for new release updates.
The following Angie Fox titles are also available in print format.
* * *
THE SOUTHERN GHOST HUNTER SERIES
Southern Spirits
A Ghostly Gift (short story)
The Skeleton in the Closet
Ghost of a Chance (short story)
The Haunted Heist
Deader Homes & Gardens
Dog Gone Ghost (short story)
Sweet Tea and Spirits
Murder on the Sugarland Express
New book to release in Fall 2018*
* * *
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* * *
THE ACCIDENTAL DEMON SLAYER SERIES
The Accidental Demon Slayer
The Dangerous Book for Demon Slayers
A Tale of Two Demon Slayers
The Last of the Demon Slayers
My Big Fat Demon Slayer Wedding
Beverly Hills Demon Slayer
Night of the Living Demon Slayer
What To Expect When Your Demon Slayer is Expecting coming April 2018!*
* * *
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* * *
SHORT STORY COLLECTIONS:
A Little Night Magic: A collection of Southern Ghost Hunter and Accidental Demon Slayer short stories
About the Author
New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Angie Fox writes sweet, fun, action-packed mysteries. Her characters are clever and fearless, but in real life, Angie is afraid of basements, bees, and going up stairs when it is dark behind her. Let’s face it. Angie wouldn’t last five minutes in one of her books.
Angie earned a journalism degree from the University of Missouri. During that time, she also skipped class for an entire week so she could read Anne Rice's vampire series straight through. Angie has always loved books and is shocked, honored and tickled pink that she now gets to write books for a living. Although, she did skip writing for a week this past fall so she could read Victoria Laurie's Abby Cooper psychic eye mysteries straight through.
Angie makes her home in St. Louis, Missouri with a football-addicted husband, two kids, and Moxie the dog.
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Copyright © 2016 by Angie Fox
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Deader Homes and Gardens
First Edition
ISBN: 978-1-939661-36-4