I nodded. This was bad timing. The owners of the house said we could attend in fourteen days. Luckily, there’d been a ten-day break scheduled at the end of the investigation, which meant we could come back and continue without disrupting plans.
“Callie, you’re not going to believe this,” Connor stated, returning and looking amused.
“What?”
“The cemetery is off-limits. A water main broke, flooding the land. It was fixed yesterday, but they’ve got to wait for the flood to drain away. They said they can book us in, in fourteen days.”
Bemused, I began laughing. “Really?”
“Yes.” Connor chuckled.
“Okay, it’s too long a drive to reach Wyoming. Let’s see if I can organise a flight and stuff. Give me your friends’ details, I’ll contact them.”
“I’ve already called. Fiona said to come asap. Things are ramping up there. They’ve just had a dancing turkey.”
“Grab the others, Connor, we need to get to the airport, store the vehicles, and move our equipment,” I stated.
The door opened, and Sunny shoved his head in. “Got a plan?”
“Can you drive the RV to the airport? We’re going to Wyoming,” I said.
“Sure. You coming with me?”
“Do you mind my staying here to figure out what gear we require?”
Sunny smiled. “Whatever you need, baby. I’ll get the team together.”
Connor
“Connor, can you give us some background, please? Usually, we do this on the tour bus, but we’ve had to leave that behind,” Callie said.
“Sure.” I checked everyone was present and spotted Phil and Freddie, both filming. We were on a private aeroplane that Callie had hired. The equipment was stored in the tiny hold.
“Okay, so Christmas Village was a former ski and winter sports area. Fiona and Simon are my friends from university. Last Christmas, Simon retired from his job, where he’d made a bundle of money, and they bought the resort. They’ve spent the last year restoring and converting it into their ideal Christmas resort.”
“What?” Sunny asked. “I’m sure you just said it’s a Christmas town.”
“Yeah, I did.”
“Connor, it’s June,” Sunny exclaimed.
“Yup, well done,” Callie teased.
Sunny glowered and slumped in his chair.
“Christmas Village is set high in the Beartooth Mountains, on the Wyoming side, in a valley that has snow all year round. It resembles Santa’s North Pole. They’ve worked really hard to establish themselves there.
“They have the hotel and twenty-five wooden cabins. A Santa’s village was built with shops, Santa’s House, Elf homes, and a toy factory. The village has everything to delight visitors, including a magical tunnel that ‘transports’ you to the North Pole—and there’s been activity there, too.”
“What are they getting?” Jack asked.
“From the moment they started construction, weird things began happening. Tools and furniture moving, strange sounds, and footprints in the snow where nobody has walked. They’ve heard voices and seen figures, but when they’ve turned around, nobody’s there,” I said.
“Any threats?” Michelle, our exorcist and a close friend, asked.
“Depends on what you call threats. Apparently, yesterday a turkey got up off its plate and did the cancan dance,” I explained.
Jack gaped and wasn’t alone. “Seriously, a dancing turkey?”
