Never Dead (Welcome To Dead House Book 1)

by M. L. Bullock

  I was impressed by her attention to detail and happily imagined her working with me in the future, maybe staging houses or even selling them. It was totally possible. If the whole book thing didn’t work out. At this rate, I was never going to get the book written. I’d have to sell a few houses and soon. The good news was, several of my potential clients were coming to the party tonight.

  Luckily, I had two properties to push, a small cottage on Lemon Tree Street and a little duplex on Birch. Both were dressed and ready to go, and I was sure I could turn them into cash. That is, if people would kindly attend my scheduled open houses.

  Here at home, things had died down. It was as if Kevin and his crowbar had successfully repelled whatever was here, but that wasn’t right. He hadn’t even opened the door. Joey had said he didn’t touch it and told me he didn’t like that space. Sometimes the secret to ending paranormal activity was just to bring in the right personalities. Maybe that was all it took in this case.

  Maybe the phantom Screamer just wanted the attic door open.

  And I’m a college professor. I wasn't sure, but I was happy things had settled down. Once in a while, I got the feeling eyes were on me, but I didn’t see or hear anything besides Joey. The three of us sank into our former routines, and I put my mind to pounding the pavement looking for buyers and writing a few paragraphs here and there. To be honest, my book had taken a strange turn, and I knew I’d have to make some revisions before I went any farther. Or maybe I wouldn’t.

  What publishing house would buy a haunted mystery? I had no idea, but then, I was a long way from being published.

  I got a few friendly emails from Quinton asking for more details, but I backed off on getting him involved. I didn't even answer the last email. Joey and I had sunk back into our evening routine of watching Ghost Hunters reruns and gossiping on the couch. Chloe was back at school, the tornado damage having been repaired quickly. She and Trey seem to be getting closer, but that was totally normal. He was a likable enough kid and occasionally, he brought his cousin around. Her name was Lynn, and she was an awkward ball of fun. I liked her. They usually hung around in the living room in the afternoon after school. It was fun having young people around.

  We nailed those decorations. From the chandelier wafted silky spiderwebs, complete with tiny little green light-up spiders. There were also black lace fans scattered around, each glowing with a red light. A raven perched on the mantlepiece, with eyes that lit up when you walked past. Once in a while, it squawked, “Nevermore!”

  The caterers had arrived and the sideboard in the dining room was covered with all kinds of creepy snacks, including finger sandwiches and various dips. I'd been getting phone calls all day. So many people were coming to this party. Apparently, the big shindig at the Dead House was the talk of the town, but there had been no RSVP from Kevin. I guess I knew where I stood. Maybe if the music played loud enough, he’d show up tonight in uniform. Strangely, I did like a man in uniform.

  My phone dinged as another RSVP hit my notifications. My little bit of advertising on social media was paying off in a big way, but I couldn't pretend it was all my doing. I wasn't that skilled at marketing, but people were curious about this place. According to Chloe, half her school was coming, which was exciting.

  Despite all the details we put into the display, Chloe wasn't happy with the results. She was a perfectionist. “It's missing something, Tamara. We need a better focal point. That mirror isn’t big enough. Tell you what…Trey, Lynn, and I will go back up to the attic and grab one of those old oil paintings. I’ll put it over there.”

  "I think it looks great in here, Chloe, but if you think we need something else, go for it. After all this magic, I totally trust your judgment. You know, if you are looking for a summer job, I could use you. Staging a house isn't as easy as you make it look. I’d rather pay you than work with a staging company. They charge way too much. We could make a list of items, do the shopping, and store them in some of the spare rooms. What do you say, Chloe? Want to earn a few extra dollars?”

  Chloe looked at me as if I lost my mind, and to accentuate her disgust, she rolled her eyes. "That sounds like a terrible idea. We don't need much, just the portrait and maybe one of those dressmaker’s dummies. We could always dress the dummy up and make it look scary. Come on, Lynn, Trey, I’m going to need your help toting this picture. It looks like it weighs about a hundred pounds. I want you guys to see this place. It's unbelievable."

  "Don’t spend too much time up there. The guests will be arriving soon, and you're not even dressed," I called after them as the three teenagers bounded up the steps and went to the attic. I still had no idea what Chloe intended to come as since she had kept her costume completely secret.

  My costume was lame. I had a bunch of Halloween-appropriate outfits, but none of them could be worn at our house party. I found a fuzzy headband and paired it with a black minidress that I hoped made me look like a cat. Or a cat-woman. A tailless cat-woman. At least I knew how to do makeup really well. I could knock out cat’s eye eyeliner like nobody's business. Since we were alone on the bottom floor, Joey came out of my bedroom, and I almost died laughing.

  “Is the coast clear?” he asked as he sauntered toward me. “Wow! What’s new, pussy cat?”

  “Ha!" I smothered another laugh at Joey, but he took it in stride. He was totally rocking a fitted—I mean very fitted—sailor costume. “Bravo, Joey!” To show me how much he loved his sailor costume, complete with white Popeye hat, he straightened his back and strolled down the hall like it was a runway. He was even wearing platform shoes, just high enough to make him look taller. At least he’d fully manifested his legs. He had trouble with that sometimes.

  I never met a ghost who could do more than appear and reappear for a few moments, and that was often sporadic. Rarely were they friendly. Joey could interact with the physical world almost as well as I could, at least for short periods of time.

  "Check it, girl. I’ll be the hottest sailor in Crystal Springs.”

  “You look great, Joey. I mean, really great. How did you whip that up?”

  “I’ve got my ways. Oh, and on second thought, what are you wearing? No, no, no. What happens if Deputy McHottie shows up and you look like a club ho? Why don't you wear one of those other outfits? The ones you have stashed in that closet back there. You know, the Little Red Riding Hood outfit is to die for."

  "That’s out of the question. That outfit is far too racy for a PG party. Tell me, Popeye, do you plan to make an appearance tonight? Because if you do, you may want to tamp down the luminosity. You’ll never blend in if you don’t get that under control.”

  He groaned in response. “I’m trying, but it’s hard. It’s all Chloe’s fault.”

  “What? What are you talking about?” I dropped my voice to a whisper as I glanced up the stairs, but nobody was coming down. Thankfully.

  “She’s a wildcard. I tell you, that girl has psychic powers. Secret gifts she’s not telling you about,” he said as he spun around one more time. I smiled supportively, all while silently praying he’d chicken out on showing up. I didn’t take him seriously about Chloe. For some reason, those two had an active war going on. I couldn’t figure them out.

  “Besides, this light thing only happens when I get excited, and this is the most exciting thing that’s happened to me in…" Joey’s joyful expression vanished momentarily. I could see him struggling to remember when the last time he felt joyful and happy about something was. With all of my heart, I wanted to press him and push him to think a little harder, dig a little deeper, but he simply couldn't remember, and time wasn’t on our side. I needed to distract him. I wanted him to be happy.

  "You'll be the belle of the ball, Joey, but just a warning. Deputy McHottie is mine."

  His beautiful grin returned as he smirked at me playfully.

  "Oh, is that how you want to play it? Maybe I should break out my backup costume?" The radio in my bedroom began to play a hip-hop tune. Joey sna
pped his fingers and his costume changed in the twinkling of an eye. He was no longer wearing his rocking Popeye the Sailor Man costume, but a much more scandalous outfit, complete with a pair of micro shorts, a sailor crop top, a white hat, and white heels. It was ridiculous and also hilarious.

  "Sorry, Sweet Cheeks, but not at this party. There will be kids present. It doesn't leave much to the imagination, does it?" I thought I heard footsteps upstairs. It sounded like the teens were returning. I glanced nervously at the door as Joey stood in front of the mirror and vogued before agreeing.

  "You're probably right about this one. It's costume number one, then. Oh, well." The music stopped, and he straightened out his costume by smoothing it with his fingers. The doorbell rang before he could begin ransacking my closet. It was strange he didn’t hear the guest approaching. Usually, he was better than a surveillance doorbell.

  "Please don't tear my closet up. I don't have time to clean it up tonight.”

  “Oh, and you want to have everything tidy in case you get a little action? That’s a relief. I was beginning to think you’d taken an oath of celibacy. I mean, it’s ridiculous. I haven’t seen one bare ass in there. Except yours. No offense, but you’re not my type. You’re cute and all, but I like my asses a bit brawnier.”

  I stomped my bare foot at him. “You’ve been looking at me naked?”

  “Sweetie, I’m a ghost. I can’t help but look. Trust me, it’s nothing I haven’t seen before.”

  I wasn’t happy with his confession. “Oh, really? Well, don’t do it again. I’ve got to answer the door. Stay out of trouble, please.” I stormed out of the bedroom and closed the door behind me. Who could this be? They were an hour early.

  Probably the DJ. He needed time to set up speakers and whatnot.

  I put on a happy face. I don't know who I expected to see when I opened the door—maybe my nosy neighbor Linda Blabbermouth or hopefully Deputy Kevin Patrick—but the guy I saw was neither of those. This was no excited early bird come to take a peek inside the Ridaught Plantation. My guest was none other than professional ghost hunter and ex-boyfriend Quinton Lowell. Suddenly, Joey was just on the other side of the door peeking through the crack. I heard him squeal beside me as I stared in amazement at the sight of Quinton’s tight shirt and even tighter pants.

  “Hello, Pussy Cat. I see you got my email.” If I was going to hear that corny name all night, I was going to change my outfit.

  “What are you doing here?”

  He dropped his overnight bag on the ground as though he was planning to spend the night. “In my last email, I told you I was coming down. I’m here to do a full investigation. That’s what you want, right? Or is it just me you want?”

  Quinton’s attempts at charm didn’t amuse me, especially since I could see his Ghost Travelers van in my driveway. The show had been canceled for a few years now. Talk about holding on to the past. It might add to the ambiance, I thought.

  “I haven’t been checking my email, but you’re here, and I’m having a party. Um, please come in, Quinton. Bring your bag. I’ll find a room for you. We’ll have to talk about this later, though.” Joey acted as if he were going to faint as I waved my hand at him to warn him to cool it.

  This was going to be one hell of a Halloween party.

  18

  Chloe

  “Wow! Look at this crowd, Chloe! We're fifteen minutes away from kickoff, and it's already a legit party. Oh, crap. It looks like the Goth Bitches are here. Why did you invite them? They’re four major pains in the ass. Cousins from hell. You don’t know what you’re in for."

  Lynn bounced up and down on the seat beside me until she saw her nemeses gathering on the lawn. What did you call multiple enemies? I wasn’t interested in getting into the weeds of past offenses with Lynn, but I sure as heck wasn’t going to put up with any crap from fellow students. I’d definitely keep an eye out, but I planned on having fun. I peeked out the window, amazed at all the cars. Tamara wasn’t prepared for this level of success, that was for sure. Trey had gone home to change, but he'd be coming back soon.

  "Is that a real Ghost Travelers van? I can’t believe it. I think it is! This is so legit! What if Ike and Doug are here? Do you know them?”

  “Wrong show, and no. I don’t know them. Tamara might, though. Please help me with this dress. Can’t put this off any longer. I can't wait to put on my costume.”

  Lynn clapped her hands joyfully. "Have you told Tamara yet?"

  "It's my costume, so she doesn't get a say. I’m not a kid." I hadn't really thought about what she would think about seeing me in this dress. Lynn’s phone began going off, and she got up to stare at her text message. I wasn’t great at reading faces, but she’d gotten bad news.

  "Shoot. I've got to go home, Chloe. I have something to do. I’m sorry to go, but I have to. I'll try to come back later this evening."

  "What? But the party is about to get started. I know you want to be here. Everything okay at home, Lynn?” I was floored. My friend didn’t share many details about her home life, kind of like me. Maybe that's why I liked her so much.

  "Yep. Everything is fine. Later, Tater.” She walked out of the room, leaving me alone with my musty dress. I got the feeling her parents were strict, way stricter than Tamara. I felt kind of bad for her. Lynn was a little taller than me and maybe a little heavier. She often got picked on because she wore frosted eyeshadow every day of her life and not much else as far as makeup, but she was kindhearted and usually easy going. I loved her oversized t-shirts and collection of neon-colored tights, even if her outfits never matched.

  I was reading too much into her leaving. I had a friend, and that was all that mattered. She never let on there was any kind of problem being here when we took the sparkly eyeballs out of the packaging and scattered them around the sideboard and on the various tables in the living room. I hoped she’d be able to come back. It wouldn’t be the same without her. I had to get this dress on, and the zipper didn’t want to work. It had worked just fine last night. I could have asked Tamara to help me—she’d loved the faux-mother bonding crap—but I didn’t. When we were downstairs earlier, I thought I heard her talking to someone in her office, but the door had been closed, and I got a feeling that she didn't want me to know who was in there. Definitely a guy, though.

  I shimmied into the dress and zipped it up as far as it would go. I needed another pair of hands. A ghostly pair. I opened my bedroom door and stepped into the hallway.

  “Psst… Joey? I need your help."

  As smooth as he has ever moved, Joey stepped out of the wall, put his hand to his chest and asked, "Moi? Really?”

  "I need your help with this dress, and I don’t want to bother Tamara. Hey, any idea who is in there with her? She’s been in that room for half an hour.”

  Joey was dying to tell me. "The caterers are answering the door for her, but they are not happy about it. You'll never believe who came. He is so dreamy! I don't think you can guess. I should make you guess, though, for being such a…”

  "Will you just tell me?"

  He crossed his arms to show off his muscular arms. He looked good in his fitted sailor costume. I quickly tucked that thought far away. He didn't seem to notice.

  "I know exactly who's in there, but I'm not telling you. I have no reason to do so. You act like I’m your pet. You can’t just snap your fingers and expect me to show up.”

  I stomped my foot, but he was holding out. "Joey, for goodness sake, just tell me. If you tell me, I'll let you help me with my costume." I’d barely gotten the suggestion out of my mouth when he clapped his luminous hands delightfully.

  "It's a deal, bestie, but you have to invite me into your room."

  We paused outside my bedroom door, and he just hovered there. He was so excited he was glowing like a giant firefly. "All right, let's get your glare under control, please. You are only allowed to come in this one time, and why the invite? It's not like you're a vampire. Are you?"

  "Oh, girl.
You are a dumb-dumb. No, I'm not a vampire. But I do have to observe boundaries, and you have set plenty. So, can I come in or not?"

  He stood there with his hand on his hip expectantly, and I said, "Okay, but like I said, just this one…"

  Joey was in my room, sitting on my bed and criticizing the costume jewelry I’d selected. “Um, no way.”

  "Quinton Lowell from Ghost Travelers is in her office. He used to be with Ghost Hunters, but that was a long time ago. That's who's down there. Can you believe it? He is her ex, and boy is he a piece of work. Such naughty thoughts, and all the time. I think he regrets losing her, though. Do you think they’ll get back together?"

  "Who?" I asked. He gave me a crazy look and pulled back again with his hand on his chest.

  "Don't tell me you don't know who Quinton Lowell is, Chloe boo? Oh, my God! What is wrong with this generation? The nineties were a much happier time."

  “Enlighten me," I said as I tugged at the zipper. “And help me!”

  “Grab a wire hanger and get to it. There’s making a fashionably late entrance, and then there’s just rude. ”

  “What? Are you going to beat me with it, like that stupid movie you made me watch?”

  He tilted his head. “A wire hanger, ma’am. Grab one. I’m saving my energy for my big moment so I can’t do it, but it’s not hard.”

  "Quinton Lowell is the number one hottest paranormal investigator in the industry. I mean, how could you not know who he is? Who knew your Aunt Tamara was so connected?” He gave an exaggerated wink and drew his legs up on my bed. “I think they have a past.”

  I walked to the closet and grabbed a wire hanger. “Yuck. The less I know, the better. And she’s not my aunt.”

  “Okay, sure.”

  I waved the flimsy hanger at him. “What am I supposed to do with this thing?”

  “Use it to pull the zipper up, genius. Slide the hook into the zipper tab and tug it up. Gently. But don’t stab yourself. Geesh. Who knew you were so curvy? You go, girl.”