“Maybe we should try someone new,” Tate muttered as Mike made his way toward the stairs. “I don’t care how old and complex the wiring is in this house, he should have fixed it by now. And you should really read all of that info before you start telling me I’m wrong.”
Between the endless contractors and Tate’s newfound belief in the paranormal, Kellan’s day was rapidly going to hell. “I don’t see how a bunch of rumors help us figure out what’s going on in this house. I don’t need to know the history. I need to know who’s trying to scare Belle out of it right now.”
Eric shouldered his way back into the kitchen. “That’s an electrician, a plumber, a carpenter, and some woman with a god-awful amount of something she calls swatches. Belle’s trying to pick between five colors that all look the exact same to me, but apparently they have different names so the decision is massive. Who are our most likely suspects here?”
So many people walking in and out of the house. Every single one of them was a suspect in his mind. “Don’t forget the landscaper she brought in. And someone’s coming in today to look at all the old photos. Belle wants to restore some she found in the attic. I put them over by the copy machine.”
The photos didn’t matter now. “Process of elimination. Who was here that first day? Mike, Gates, Captain Ron—”
“Who?” Tate looked confused.
“Mullet guy,” Kell supplied. “Big belly, lots of crack.”
“Oh, the plumber.” Tate sighed. “Who else was here that first day? The interns.”
“They haven’t been back,” Eric pointed out.
“And nothing else has happened.” Kell crossed his arms over his chest. “Any one of them could have done it and none of them appear to have a motive. This isn’t getting us anywhere.”
“Wow,” Tate exclaimed, looking at a framed photo in his hands before he passed it over.
Kell took the big black-and-white picture of Belle’s grandmother and a bunch of women. They were all standing in front of the house, smiling and looking like they were ready for an evening at the disco. It had been taken in the seventies from all appearances. Wow was right. Belle’s grandma had clearly had some gorgeous girlfriends. Every single woman in the photo was stunning.
“See? Maybe we can’t find a motive because none of those people left Belle the warning on the wall.” Tate looked more animated than he had in days, surprising Kell.
“You’re back to the ghost theory?”
“Hear me out. So a few owners before Marie Wright bought this place, a man named Fredrick Peterman lived here with his two daughters. Peterman was rich, and the rumor around town was he was involved in the local voodoo scene.”
Kellan shook his head. When was he going to wake up? Obviously, he was having a really weird dream. Logical, rational Tate believing in ghosts and now this? “Voodoo? Seriously?”
Eric shrugged. “Hey, it’s not a game down here. These are hard-core believers.”
And his friends weren’t going to shut up until he heard them out. “All right so Peterman was into voodoo before he died?”
Tate shook his head, an amused light in his eyes. “At one point, yes. The word is, he ran afoul of the local voodoo priestess. According to local legends, the Peterman family had been in New Orleans for years and made their money in shipping, but the times changed and so did their fortunes. One Madame Charitte went to the local police and claimed that Peterman had come to her and asked her to summon the devil to make a deal with him to restore their fortunes. She refused to be involved in dark magic. The cops claimed she was a kook and ignored her. Of course, Peterman was a long-standing donor to their charities, if you know what I mean.”
Kellan didn’t like where this was heading. “So Peterman had the police in his back pocket. Got it. But do you really think the man would try to call the devil? That sounds insane.”
“According to Madame Charitte, Peterman had brought her a detailed spell to work that involved a very nasty sacrifice,” Tate explained.
“He had daughters, two of them,” Eric reminded. “Both supposedly hung themselves.”
Kell gaped. “Like the girls in Belle’s nightmares.” She’d finally confessed this morning that she’d been having terrible dreams since she’d first moved in about two girls being hanged to death. But… “You can’t think for a minute that the man sacrificed his own daughters to the dark side and got away with calling it suicide.”
“This was back in the fifties. Peterman was considered an upstanding citizen. In the wealthy community, there was an outpouring of sympathy when both of his daughters committed suicide.” Tate pointed to the headlines. “So tragic, right? All evidence of ritual sacrifice was covered up. Although, if he managed to make a deal with the devil, ol’ Lucifer didn’t keep up his end of the bargain. The business went belly-up within a year, and Peterman shot himself in the library. Police reports suggest his body was discovered roughly where Belle said she saw the shadow person.”
“Come on, Tate. Don’t get distracted by this. It’s a great campfire story, but totally illogical. There’s something else going on here.” He turned to his other friend. “Give me something real, Eric. Has Sequoia run all the searches we asked for?”
Eric chuckled. “Yes, but he says it’s bad karma to invade someone’s privacy. So here’s the rundown. The plumber is clean. Captain Ron had a couple of parking tickets and was cited for public intoxication years ago, but that’s all. The landscaper got sued for stepping on someone’s prized hydrangea. But Mike, our friendly neighborhood asswipe, has a little more on his record.”
Something akin to joy lit Kellan up inside. He really hated that asshole. “Please tell me he killed someone or something juicy we can use against him to keep him far from Belle.”
“Sorry. He was convicted of bribing a city official to turn the other way on code violations for a wealthy client. He did six months, but it looks like he had a lot of trouble in jail. While there, he had multiple trips to the infirmary because the dude got his ass handed to him. Other than that he’s sadly clean. No violent offenses. I don’t think we can bury him or that Belle will kick his ass out. He’s doing all the follow-up work under the original contract so it’s not costing any extra money.”
Tate glanced through the folder. “It looks like Grandma’s lawyer has some unsavory connections.”
Kellan snorted. He didn’t know a lawyer who didn’t. “Well, we can ban him from the house. I think he’s got a meeting with Belle this afternoon, but it’s just to pick up the final inventory list since we all pitched in to finish that. I found the insurance paperwork so he should be satisfied. He won’t need to come here again. From now on, we’ll take meetings at his office.”
And that was about all he could do. Frustration welled. Who the hell had left the note on her wall that day? True, the warnings seemed to have stopped, but Kellan didn’t like unanswered questions. They tended to come back to bite him in the ass.
He didn’t care how quiet this person had gotten. The situation could be dangerous and whoever the hell masterminded it was human, not some shadow person or ghost.
“So have we looked into Helena?” Eric asked.
“Who is that?” Kell snapped.
“The psychic.” Tate acted as if he should know. “Mike, the perverted electrician, recommended her to Belle. I’d call another psychic if I knew one, but I don’t. This one seemed all right.”
Oh, fuck. Could his day get more surreal? “We have a psychic now?”
Tate waved them both off. “Yeah, she’s a psychic medium, dude. She does house cleansings. I talked to her this morning and, lucky for us, she’s free this evening.”
“Yeah, lucky, man. I’m shocked she doesn’t have a full schedule of house cleansings. Uhm, you do know that grifters tend to make room on their schedule for naïve idiots, right? It’s kind of how they make their living.”