by Fitz Molly
On the other hand, it was probably for the best that that didn’t happen. Hawk was a charismatic hunk, and it would’ve been far too easy to succumb to his charm. That’s the last thing I needed right now. Soon I would be on my way to a new life. I didn’t need to cling to old flames.
“I thought your Aunt Matilda did this tour?” Mark asked as he and Lorna entered the house.
Aunt Matilda was well-known in Fiddlehead Creek. In fact, people came from all over Georgia for a reading. It was no wonder everyone was disappointed that she wasn’t here tonight. “I’m filling in. She twisted her ankle.”
“I’m sorry to hear that, but I’m sure you’re doing a fine job. You’ve been involved with the supernatural for a long time. I remember when you and Hawk had that encounter with the ghost on Piney Hill Road—you know, the woman with the long red dress. She flooded the car’s engine, but you knew she meant no harm, that she was merely having some fun, and you were able to get her to stop. I was impressed with your ability. After all, you were what, maybe eighteen?”
“Yeah, it was the summer before I left for college.” I remembered it well, and not just because of the ghost incident, but because that was the night I had to tell Hawk that I was leaving. It was one of the worst nights of my life, and even the memory of it was something I didn’t want to relive. “Ready for the tour?” I asked, shifting the subject back to the present.
“You bet,” he replied.
I could smell the motor oil on his clothes as we walked inside. Mark’s family owned Lang’s Garage, a staple here in Fiddlehead for the past thirty or so years, and it was obvious that he’d come straight from work.
“I heard you’ve been dating the chief,” he said, trying to sound matter of fact, but there was no disguising his disappointment. Mark and I had grown close during the time Hawk and I were an item, and the older Lang brother had made no secret of the fact that he would’ve liked for me to marry his younger brother someday.
“We’ve been on a few dates,” I said, trying to downplay my relationship with Guy, but there were no secrets in Fiddlehead. Word traveled faster than lightning around here.
“You know how I feel about you and Hawk. I would’ve liked nothing better than to have you become a part of my family. However, I understand how fleeting young love can be. My brother’s moved on, and I’m glad you have too. I wish you nothing but the best, Esme, and the chief’s a good guy. You could’ve done a lot worse.”
I had to bite my tongue to keep from setting the record straight. Guy and I weren’t a couple. Although he was a wonderful man, he was ten years older than me and ready to settle down. I wasn’t. I hadn’t even started my career, but seeing as I hadn’t yet told the chief that I was leaving for Los Angeles next week, I sure couldn’t say anything to Mark. Instead, I showed him and Lorna the chandelier globe that had exploded and told them to watch out for the broken glass.
“Never a dull moment in the Johnson house, and this year’s no exception. It’s the only place on the tour that I bother to go inside,” he said with a chuckle.
Aunt Matilda would be happy to hear that I was able to keep things exciting, but I doubted she would be pleased to find out what had happened to Rayanne.
The next few hours went by quickly, and each tour had a visit from either Augustus or his girlfriend. Luckily, my wish came true, and Gladys didn’t make a return visit. By the time I had the broken glass cleaned up in the foyer, and the lights turned off, I was more than ready to call it a night and head home. On the way, my thoughts were focused on the stolen urn, and I knew discovering who had taken it would be much more difficult than filling in for Aunt Matilda tonight at the Haunted House Tour.
Chapter Three
Aunt Matilda’s huge house sat on over one hundred acres of pine forest. Longleaf Plantation was built in eighteen thirty-two by my Great-Great-Great Grandfather James, and it had remained in the family ever since. I was lucky enough to spend my summers there growing up. My parents traveled a lot, and taking a child along would’ve put a damper on their jet-setting lifestyle. I didn’t mind being left behind, though. I got to leave Atlanta and its sweltering summer heat and spend a few months with my favorite aunt. We had lots in common. Not only were we the only living Hightower psychics, but we were both huge nature lovers. My days were spent exploring the forest, hiking along its many trails, and swimming in the creeks that bordered the neighboring properties. Those were magical times where my imagination flourished, but as I grew older and my gift began to develop, fear set in. Could I handle talking to the dead?
It took a long time for me to come to terms with it, and honestly, I still hadn’t. Not completely. That was one of the reasons I was leaving Fiddlehead Creek. My hope was that by pursuing my other love, acting, I could avoid the pesky ghosts who kept popping up whenever and wherever they pleased. Grandpa Ed was the one who visited me the most, and I was pretty sure he’d follow me to L.A., but that was okay. I enjoyed having him around, even if he did drop in at the most inopportune times. He loved to offer advice, and I had to admit that most of the time, it was pretty good. However, the other spirits needed to stay behind, and I planned on telling them so. My head couldn’t be filled with voices if I was going to take Hollywood by storm.
As I approached the house, the feeling of foreboding that had been with me all evening became almost unbearable. My throat tightened up, and I gasped for breath. That happened when I got stressed, but never to this degree.
Aunt Matilda could tell something was wrong because she stopped me in the center hall. “Sugah, is everything all right?” she asked in her raspy drawl. “Did Gladys ruin your tours?”
We never kept secrets from each other, so I had to tell her about Rayanne and the stolen urn, despite not wanting to. All I wanted was to go to bed, but that would have to wait. Aunt Matilda wouldn’t let up until I told her everything that had happened tonight. Besides, it was best that she heard it from me and not someone else.
“Not really,” I answered. “She frightened a group of teenagers by grabbing one of the girl’s pigtails and by exploding a chandelier globe, but that’s tame compared to some of the stories you’ve told me about past tours.”
“Indeed. What ya just told me shouldn’t make ya white as a ghost. No pun intended. So what is it?”
Awkwardly, I cleared my throat. “Let’s sit down. You shouldn’t be standing on that ankle.”
“Apparently, this is going to be a long story. Will I need a cup of tea to go with it?” she asked, quirking a brow. Whenever Aunt Matilda was upset, she had a hot cup of sweet tea to calm her nerves.
I sent her a small, sad smile. “Yes, I believe you will. Why don’t you have a seat in the parlor while I make it?”
“I think I can hobble my way to the kitchen,” she said, shifting her weight onto the uninjured foot as I offered her my arm. She was a stubborn woman, so I knew it was useless to press the issue.
When we were settled at the rustic oak table, each with a steaming cup of tea in front of us, I began to tell her about the break-in at the Johnson house.
Afterward, she said, “Guy stopped by to tell me to keep the doors locked. At first, I thought it was due to the mischief-makers that come out every Halloween, but that wasn’t the reason for his concern. He was worried about vandals, and his next stop was to check on you. If only he’d gotten there sooner. Poor Rayanne, attacked and locked in the basement. What is the world coming to?” Her voice was husky with despair.
“I don’t know,” I remarked with some bitterness. “Things like that don’t happen here in Fiddlehead Creek. I can’t imagine who would do such a thing.”
Her faded eyes grew worried. “The chief thinks a gang did the break-ins, and the only gang I know is that straggly shifter pack. Those wolves might spell trouble, but I never thought they’d actually attack someone.”
I didn’t think so either. They were a wild unscrupulous group, who were known more for their bark than their bite, yet it was possible that they’d cr
ossed the line. “I’ll go pay them a visit tomorrow and see what I can find out.”
Aunt Matilda drew her thin lips together into a straight line. “Don’t ya think that’s somethin’ for the chief to do?”
I took a moment to contemplate her question before saying, “You have a point. We’ll go together after my appointment with Rayanne. By the way, is it okay if I use your reading room?”
Her face brightened. “You’re doing a readin’?”
I hated to disappoint her. Aunt Matilda had taught me how to do them, but I didn’t feel confident enough yet. Not to do a real one anyway. “No. I’m just going to try to contact Augustus Johnson to see if he might know who hit Rayanne and stole the urn.”
Her furrowed brow deepened the wrinkles in her skin. “I’m not sure I like the sound of that, sugah, but if ya must, please tread carefully. You could be enterin’ dangerous territory.”
I reached across the table and patted her hand. “I know. Don’t worry. Whatever I learn, I’ll pass on to Guy.”
“Be sure ya do. Chief Casanova might not approve of all we do with the spirit world, but he’s a good detective and will use whatever is at his disposal. Even if it comes from the paranormal world.”
She was right about that, and I was glad to have him on my side. I blew on my tea and then took a careful sip as I pondered how to tell him I would soon be moving away. There was no easy way to do it, so I just needed to bite the bullet and get it over with. However, now wasn’t the time. All my energy needed to be concentrated on finding out who stole the urn. After that, I would break the news to Guy.
As I finished my tea, I told Aunt Matilda all about tonight’s tours, and I could tell that she was very happy with how they went. Now I just had to make sure that word didn’t get out about Rayanne and the urn. Although no one could hold me responsible—it happened before I got to the Johnson house— unfortunately, events can get lumped together, and tonight’s could hurt the Hightower reputation. That’s the last thing I wanted to have happen. Aunt Matilda had spent her entire life building her psychic business, and I would be heartbroken if I played a part in tarnishing it.
With that worrisome thought, I took one last sip before setting both our cups on the kitchen counter. “I’m going to head up to bed,” I said as I helped my aunt to her feet and then into the parlor. She was sleeping on the sofa, so she didn’t have to climb the stairs. “If you need me during the night, be sure to call.” I checked her cell phone to make sure it was fully charged as I set it on the end table beside her.
“I will, but I’ll be fine. I’m going to read for a bit. I want to finish the cozy mystery I started last night. It’s a page-turner.”
“Good night then,” I said as I bent down to kiss her soft cheek.
Before going up the grand mahogany staircase, I checked to make sure Ghost wasn’t perched anywhere close. The sleek black cat had a habit of shooting out from somewhere when you least expected it, and I certainly didn’t want to trip and fall down the stairs. Thankfully, the path was clear. However, I found the elusive creature sprawled out on my bed.
Ghost didn’t like many people, and that included Aunt Matilda. They barely tolerated each other, but for some reason, the feline had formed an attachment to me. Maybe it was because I understood her. The cat had an uncanny ability to know when a spirit was around. However, she liked them less than people and spent most of the day in hiding.
“You look awfully comfortable,” I remarked while carefully pulling back the bedspread so as not to disturb her.
She barely opened one yellow eye and then quickly closed it. Obviously, sleep was more important than anything else. That changed, though, when I came out of the bathroom and attempted to climb into bed. Ghost shot up with every hair on her back standing on end.
“What’s wrong? What’s got you spooked? Is there a spirit here?” I glanced around the room, looking for any kind of sign that the cat and I weren’t alone. This place was full of ghosts. Most had been here longer than Aunt Matilda and were nothing more than an occasional annoyance. “It’s okay. No one’s going to hurt you.” Apparently, the cat thought otherwise because when I reached out to pet her, she jumped off the bed and ran out of the room. “What was that all about? Guess you’re not liking me much anymore, either.”
Not giving Ghost’s behavior much thought—she was a peculiar thing ninety-nine percent of the time—I got into bed, pulled the covers up under my chin, and turned out the light.
I had just started to doze off and was in that twilight place where you’re not quite awake but not fully asleep either when I heard a woman’s voice call my name. It had an ominous tone and sent chills down my spine.
Chapter Four
My hand shook as I reached for the bedside lamp. I couldn’t get the light on fast enough. “Who’s here?” I whispered, not sure I wanted to know, but needing to, nonetheless.
“You were at my house earlier.” The voice was gravelly and unusually deep for a woman.
“Gladys?” I didn’t need to wait for her answer. I knew it was Augustus Johnson’s wife. But what was she doing here?
As if reading my mind, she said, “I followed you home.”
Well, that explained Ghost’s odd behavior. “Why? What do you want?” I tucked the covers tightly around me.
“I don’t want that urn back in my house, so keep your nose out of where it doesn’t belong.”
Gladys certainly was direct. No beating around the bush. Her threat was obvious, but I gave Rayanne my word that I’d help find Augustus’s urn, and I never went back on my word. However, I’d never had an irate spirit after me, either. “Even if I do as you ask, the urn will be found. Maybe not as quickly, but the police will find the vandals and then give the urn to the historical society. One way or another, it’s going to wind up back in the house.” I braced myself for Gladys’s eruption. To my surprise, though, it didn’t come. That’s not to say she wasn’t angry. She just didn’t explode my lamp or anything like that.
“Maybe, but then again, maybe not. That’s why I don’t want someone like you poking around—a wanna-be psychic calling on my murderous husband. Have I made myself clear?” Her voice was ice cold, and it made me shiver, so I pulled the covers up around me even more.
I sure didn’t want to tick her off; therefore, that left me in a tricky situation. My best option was to avoid it. “Look, it’s late, and I really have to get some sleep. All I can do is promise to think about it.”
A foul smell drifted over the bed. “Think fast and hard, and if you’re smart, you’ll do what’s in your best interest,” she hissed.
A second later, the odor dissipated, and Gladys was gone. At least temporarily. I left the light on, hoping that would help me to sleep, but it took a long time to doze off, and when I did, my dreams were more like nightmares. Each one had me running from Gladys. However, I couldn’t escape her. She followed me everywhere and made my life miserable. When I woke, it felt like I hadn’t slept at all. Part of me wanted to cancel my appointment with Rayanne, but I couldn’t do that. I needed to help her. That urn belonged to the historical society now, and that meant it also belonged to the people of Fiddlehead Creek. I owed it to everyone to make sure it was returned and on display Halloween night, even if that put me in jeopardy. I’d never been a coward, and I sure wasn’t going to become one now. With that thought imprinted on my mind, I padded into the bathroom to shower. A little while later, as I dressed, the fabulous scent of maple syrup and bacon drifted into my room. Aunt Matilda was making breakfast, and I suddenly realized that I was quite hungry.
I hurried down to the kitchen, where I found a platter full of pancakes, a bowl of fresh strawberries, and a pot of steaming hot coffee. “Everything looks delicious,” I said, grabbing a piece of bacon off the skillet and barely letting it cool before taking a bite.
“And you look like ya didn’t sleep a wink,” Aunt Matilda remarked with eagle-like eyes scrutinizing me.
“I tossed and turned a lo
t. I couldn’t stop thinking about Rayanne and the urn.”
She cocked a brow at me. “Are ya sure that’s all. I feel like you’re not tellin’ me everythin’.”
I contemplated letting her know about my visit from Gladys but decided against it. Why give her more to worry about? I could always fill her in later if need be, but right now, it was best to keep quiet. Luckily, Ghost sauntered in, shifting Aunt Matilda’s attention away from me and onto the feline.
“Where have you been?” she asked, stroking the cat’s back as it walked by. “I’ve been lookin’ for ya all mornin’.”
Ghost sniffed the air and kept a good distance away from me. I wondered if that meant Gladys was close by. I couldn’t feel her presence, but that didn’t necessarily mean she wasn’t there. Spirits, especially ones with evil intent, could mask their energy from a psychic. Not a cat, though, and certainly not one as in tune as Ghost. Great! That could mean I might be stuck with Gladys all day.
“What time is Rayanne comin’?” Aunt Matilda asked, shifting my thoughts onto finding the thief who stole the urn.
