Spooky Scarecrow

by Addison Creek

  Spooky Scarecrow

  (The Jane Garbo Mysteries, Book 6)

  by

  Addison Creek

  Copyright © 2018 by Addison Creek

  Cover Design © Broken Arrow Designs

  This novel is a work of fiction in which names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to real persons, places, or events is completely coincidental.

  License Notes

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  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Epilogue

  Contact Addison Creek

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  Chapter One

  The holiday season was upon us like Cookie was upon a bottle of wine. Not that I’m likely to admit that to my family.

  In many families, the holiday season is a time for celebration. Families and loved ones come together and give each other stuff they’ll either love, or secretly re-gift and hope not to get caught. In New England, snow starts to fall as the air turns crisp and cold. When you drive around the countryside you see lights stretched across houses and lawns. It’s a time of year to show that you care.

  This was not the sort of holiday season I had ever experienced.

  The haunted house at Haunted Bluff Mansion has always had its busiest months at the end of the year. People apparently want to be scared again and again, even if they’ve visited before, and the time had now come, for this year, when our mansion grounds started to take on a carnival-like feel during the lead-up to the holidays. At times like this, even the tenants chipped in to help. Earlier in the fall we had hayrides and pumpkin carving. Later we had snowmen and sledding. Cookie once tried to get us to have dart throwing. That idea was canceled when my mother found out that Cookie wanted us witches to stand as targets.

  Cookie was sure that no one would ever have good enough aim to actually hit us. I wasn’t so certain.

  I didn’t want to admit it, even to myself, but Grant’s presence changed everything about the holiday season. Grant Hastings was the most famous warlock in the supernatural world, known far and wide as his Majesty of Magic. In his official capacity, he was the Supernatural Protection Force’s chief lead investigator for the Northeast Criminal Division. He had showed up at Haunted Bluff Mansion a while back to investigate the murder of three skeletons, and now he lived in one of the cottages on the estate. He happened to make my heart race every time I saw him.

  With a couple of weeks to go, all anyone at Haunted Bluff wanted to talk about was the holidays.

  “Morning,” said a shrill voice from behind me. The morning was gray, as it often was, but soon the sun would shine brilliantly and burn away the clouds. At the moment it looked cold outside, and I felt cold inside.

  If I could wish my cousin Lizzie out of existence, I would have done so a long time ago.

  No, never mind. That was mean. I’d wish her to Europe. She could annoy people there to her heart’s content. Cookie refused to go to Europe, though once at dinner she had said she could understand why I wanted to send Lizzie there. Once I found out that Cookie wouldn’t go, I wondered if I should make a move myself . . .

  “I don’t know what I’m wearing for the holidays this year. Like, what colors are in,” said Lizzie with emphasis. “What about you?”

  “Whatever’s in my closet?” I said. For once that answer didn’t satisfy me, though that was none of Lizzie’s business. Maybe I could find a new outfit. That would be fun!

  Lizzie was standing around awkwardly, looking at the floor. Occasionally she’d glance up at me through her real eyelashes as well as the fake ones she’d placed over them.

  When she didn’t leave, I knew she wanted to keep talking. I even knew in which direction she wanted to take the conversation. A girl in love was like that. And oh, boy, was Lizzie in love. . .

  . . . with our honorary family member, Kip.

  Kip ran the haunt hunters, who ranged around the wilds of Maine looking for supernaturals who might want to come and work at the haunted house. Kip was the strong, silent type, and terribly reliable. That is, all things that Lizzie was not. Except that Lizzie too was a haunt hunter.

  Recently, though, she had been trying to avoid going on patrol with Kip because, or so she said, she didn’t think she could perform her duties effectively. What she thought she’d been doing before, I’ll never know. Lizzie’s explanation was basically that she was more worried about Kip’s safety than her own, and that was causing her not to pay attention to her work. Lark nearly fell out of her chair when she heard that. Even the usually measured Pep had been displeased.

  Apparently my response was unsatisfying, so Lizzie flipped her hair and turned away. “Have to get outside. The holiday delivery is on its way. I do wonder when he’s going to pick up the scarecrows. They’re looking kind of ragged.”

  “I’m just going to grab some toast for breakfast, then I’ll join you,” I told her. She glared at me as I turned away, and I just smiled.

  The holiday decoration delivery was a big deal every year, and usually the scarecrows were taken away at the same time. Scarecrows decorated the lawns for Halloween, but when the holidays drew near, they were replaced with nutcrackers, pine trees, and anything else festive that Cookie could think to pay for. The whole town really did like to set the mood for the holidays. Cookie took all the credit.

  In the kitchen I said hi to Audrey and grabbed some buttered toast, then made my way outside.

  “You’re late to the party,” said Pep, who was staring at the gate with her arms clasped in front of her. Everyone else in the family was there too, also staring at the gate. Kip was dressed for work, and so were my brother Cam and Kip’s brother Corey.

  “What are you three doing here?” I asked them.

  “Thought we’d see the decorations delivered and everything before we head out for work. It’s going to be a long day,” said Kip, who was dressed in work pants and boots as usual.

  “Find anyone else to work in the haunted house?” I asked. A blustery wind took my hair and shoved it into my face, and for the next few seconds I struggled to get it out of my eyes. Kip kindly waited for me to right myself. When I finished, I caught Lizzie’s glare. She couldn’t believe I was being such a slob while I talked to her one true love.

  Lizzie was infatuated with Kip and lived in high hopes that he’d return the favor someday. The only trouble was, he had no idea. If he returned her interest, he hid it very well under his flannel shirts. I wondered if Lizzie expected to make him change how he dressed if they got together, or if she planned to do the craziest thing of all . . . accept him exactly as he was.<
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  “No, it’s been slim pickings. Supernaturals are in very high demand at this time of year,” Kip said.

  “Personally, I’d say that if there were more murders we wouldn’t have this problem. I never liked the choices we had at this time of year for extra workers,” said Cookie. My grandmother had come over to stand near us, already dressed in her witch’s clothing for this evening’s haunted house. She was paying particular attention to the bubbling cauldron she kept out on our lawn, very excited to scare as many people as possible with it.

  “I don’t think that’s such a great idea,” put in my cousin Lark.

  Lark had red hair that was usually a mess, and she liked to wear vintage clothing pieces. She was very different from her sister Pep, who had brown hair and whose outfits could only be described as uptight. Lark was unusual in the hair department. Aunt Meg, Lark and Pep’s mom, had brown hair, as did I.

  My grandmother glared at Lark. “What would you suggest? Borrowing more people from Down Below? We’ve already maxed out their talent pool, and it wasn’t very deep to begin with.”

  “Peter might be interested,” I commented.

  Peter, one of the skeletons from Down Below—the basement of the Garbo mansion—had come around to helping us out in the haunted house from time to time. We had asked him to help during the holidays, and though we hadn’t had a reply yet, I was sure he’d say yes. He loved to dress up and he loved parties. The only problem was that he was more afraid than any of the people he was supposed to scare. He jumped at the slightest sound. Hopefully nobody would notice.

  “Well that’s one,” said Cookie. I might as well have offered her a rock for all the good she thought it would do. My grandmother had flyaway gray hair, a wide body, and a large nose. The biggest thing about her by far, though, was her meddling and troublesome personality.

  “I think it’s here,” said my mom, who was standing with Aunt Meg a little apart from our conversation. Grant was also missing from the gathering. But he wasn’t part of the family, and he usually spent long hours working, so his absence wasn’t all that surprising.

  We all followed Mom’s gaze, and sure enough, a large truck was coming through the gates, the same one we saw every year. A collective gasp went up and the driver, Ben, waved and smiled cheerily. He was a big guy with beefy arms, and he’d had a crush on Meg for years. Unfortunately for Ben, Pep and Lark’s mother preferred a more sophisticated type of man. But even so, she always liked to flirt with the men she came across, and Ben was no exception.

  Ben pulled the truck over to the side of the road and jumped out. A stocky man with his sleeves rolled up, he was the son of a warlock.

  “Morning. Good to see you all,” he said.

  “Good to see you, too. How are the deliveries going?” my mom asked.

  “Slow,” said Ben. “I’ll have to leave the scarecrows for another day or two. The truck is just too full right now, and I don’t want to take the time to try to pack them in. You know perfectly well I come here first every year. Pick your nutcrackers,” he said with a flashy grin.

  “You better come here first. We’re the best advertising you have,” said Cookie.

  “I’m not going to lie about that,” Ben said easily. “Hi, Meg.”

  “Hi, Ben. Having a good year?” Meg asked.

  “Better and better all the time,” said Ben.

  My mother had already walked around to the back of the truck. The rest of us quickly followed.

  The next hour was a perfect example of high-level family bickering. We were going to have six nutcrackers on the property, it was just a matter of which ones. They’d be interspersed with other holiday decorations. We currently had six scarecrows, and Lizzie was right, after being outside for weeks they were looking a little the worse for wear. Some of them were more decorated than others. Some had straw faces and some had masks and hats. The nutcrackers we were choosing from were also quite varied. It was all very complicated.

  Cookie also threatened to put frogs in our soup if we didn’t change things up a bit this year. “Audrey would never let you get away with it,” I pointed out.

  “What she doesn’t know,” my grandmother trailed off.

  “Is that it, then?” Ben asked, after we had delayed him for an unconscionably long time.

  My mother told him it was, and he turned back to the truck and got ready to install the decorations.

  When we turned our attention away from the deliberations at last, we realized that the day was growing more overcast by the minute. By the time we were headed back inside, the sky was a uniform gray. If it got much darker it was going to rain.

  “We can help you put those up,” Kip offered, sympathizing with Ben.

  The guys got to work, but I headed back inside. My stomach was still rumbling, and I wanted some coffee. After those needs were satisfied, I expected to spend the morning with the rest of the family, helping to clean up the haunted house from the night before. We were open so late these days that we had given up cleaning after the house closed. We went straight to bed and saved the job for morning.

  We expected a few more new recruits to arrive by evening, including a witch who used to visit Haunted Bluff every year but hadn’t come in years. I remembered her because she had been good friends with my mom when we were little, but she had stopped coming every year because she had decided to go travel the world. Now she was back in town, and she wanted to see my mom again. Mom was happy she’d be coming back, but we were all less certain about the other expected arrival, who was a skeleton.

  The skeleton had called Mom and specifically asked to come help out for the holidays. My mother had been surprised, because she’d never had a skeleton ask to come before. Given that we were so short-handed, she hadn’t refused.

  We were going to be terribly busy. But at least there were no murders.

  So far.

  Chapter Two

  After I got my coffee, we started cleaning the haunted house and stayed with it all morning. By the time lunch rolled around we were almost finished. I was hungry, and I was also interested to meet the new recruits, especially the skeleton.

  “Looks like it’s about to rain,” said Pep, meeting me outside the door of the haunted house. I was surprised it hadn’t started already, given how threatening the sky had been when we’d come in from choosing the nutcrackers and saying hello to Ben.

  “What do you think Audrey’s cooking today?” Lark asked, joining us in the foyer.

  “I don’t know,” I said, “but I’m sure it will be delicious as usual.”

  We three cousins walked to the kitchen together, greeting Steve the skeleton as we passed his hideaway.

  “You still don’t want me to work for you, right?” he asked.

  “Actually, it would be very helpful if you would,” said Lark.

  The skeleton gasped. “What did I do wrong? I’ll fix that, I promise. Please don’t make me.”

  “She’s only kidding. She likes to mess with people,” said Pep.

  “I’m not a person, I’m a skeleton,” said Steve.

  “All the more reason to do it. I can’t give you a heart attack,” said Lark.

  Pep and I rolled our eyes.

  “You really don’t need me, do you?” Steve whispered. “I was only asking to be polite. Not really offering.”

  “We don’t,” I assured him. “I mean, you would always be welcome. Actually, we kinda do need more supernaturals, but it doesn’t matter. You don’t want to do it, so you don’t have to. I do think you might kind of enjoy it, though.”

  Steve did, after all, like to pop out of his closet from time to time and surprise whoever was walking past. Working in the haunted house wasn’t all that different.

  “I’ll think it over. Then I probably won’t do it,” he assured me.

  “Sounds about right,” I said.

  I was too hungry to keep talking, so we made our way into the kitchen. We found Audrey working on a chili feast. She had baked fresh bread to
go with it, plus a lemon drizzle cake for dessert. Where she’d come up with that idea I didn’t know and I didn’t care. I was happy enough just to do the eating.

  We sat around the island and enjoyed another wonderful lunch. Mom and Meg had already eaten, and everyone else was out working. It was just the four of us.

  “This is a surprisingly uneventful season so far,” said Audrey.

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  “I would’ve expected there to be a murder or two. Grant has had a lot of time off recently. Everything is quiet. I think everybody’s too busy working on scaring the humans,” she explained.

  This was something I had been pondering as well; I just hadn’t wanted to say so. There was quiet, and then there was too quiet. The last few weeks had been getting dangerously close to the latter. I wondered if everything was going to blow up at once, but then I forgot about it as we got absorbed in work for the rest of the day.

  Without any recent murders to fret over, the supernaturals were happier than they’d been in a while. They had started to grow antsy at how frequently someone had been murdered lately in Shimmerfield, and I could hardly blame them.

  Given how much there was to do for the most popular holiday of the year around here, I had been neglecting my real job, which was something else entirely. My mom, who ran the whole place, had recently assigned me the role of liaison between the Garbo family witches and Down Below, the famous, or should I say infamous, basement of our mansion.

  Down Below was a labyrinth. I felt certain that nobody except maybe Fudgy Bail, a.k.a. the Fudge, who ran the place with an iron fist, knew every twist and turn. There were secret rooms leading to more secret rooms, and I was pretty certain that after that there were even more secret rooms.

  Down Below housed the criminal element of the supernatural world. Or at least one part of it. After a longstanding tug-of-war between the denizens of Down Below and those of us who lived upstairs, a sort of truce had been reached at last, and my job was an outgrowth of that. The bottom line was that we were better off with the criminals living in the basement where we could keep an eye on them.