“Thank you.”
“I think,” he added quickly.
I marveled at the fact that this ghost, one I didn’t know, had just bestowed me with sort of get-out-of-jail-free card.
Susan winked. “Now. Isn’t there something you needed to get from Xavier’s house? Something that’s going to save your life?”
A slow smile spread across my face. “There is indeed. Let’s go steal his computer.”
Susan rubbed her hands with glee. “Sounds like my kind of date.”
NINE
Xavier Bibb lived in what was probably Haunted Hollow’s only art deco home. The cream concrete block structure was located at the top of a hill surrounded by six-foot hedges.
It was gated and I was waiting for a large, scary Doberman pinscher to jump out from a bush and attempt to rip my face off.
Apparently I had a very full imaginary life, even if I did lack friends in the real world.
“What’d you think of the crew?” Susan said.
“If you mean those delusional spirits, then that’s what I think.” I gave her a pointed look. “They’re delusional. You have to understand. I’ve spent my entire life helping spirits cross to the other side. Hanging around your gravestone isn’t normal. It’s psychotic.”
“You’re being, like, a total bummer. You need to stop being such a grown-up. All we want is the same as other people—to be left alone.”
“You’re forgetting you’re not the same as other people. You’re dead. You’ve lived and now it’s time for you to move on. There isn’t enough room for all of us—the dead and the living. Can you imagine the congestion if all spirits just hung around all the time? It would be a logistical nightmare for me.”
“We don’t drive cars,” Susan said. “It’s not like we’re adding more traffic to y’all’s interstates.”
“Whatever. The dead are supposed to move on. The only reason I’m not forcing anyone to meet their maker is because that’s not what I’m here for.” I stared at the keypad on the electric gate. “How’re we supposed to get in?”
Susan pulled a ghostly bobby pin from her hair. “Leave that to me.”
She pushed the pin into the lock. Sparks shot from the box. The bolts disengaged.
I pushed the gate. It squeaked louder than I liked. But what the heck, a ghost had already destroyed the lock.
But still…this might look bad. Like someone killed Xavier and then broke into his house. I rubbed my prints from the bars and sneaked inside.
“We don’t have much time,” I said. “The cops will search this place next. See who may have wanted Bibb dead.”
“Too bad his ghost didn’t tell you who did it,” Susan said. “It’s always so much better to get the story straight from the rooster. Don’t you think?”
“Sure.”
The house was big and formidable. One side featured curved corners with glass block windows. A small terrace looked out from the second floor, and long, straight lines of wood ran down the face, stopping above the front door.
I cut to the back and kept my fingers crossed that there wasn’t an alarm. Knowing I wouldn’t get that lucky, I hoped whoever the ghost was that inhabited the house would be kind enough to let us enter.
Susan plumped her teased hair. “I’ll go see about Henry. See if he can drag his sorry butt out and open the door for you. Unless you can slip through cracks?”
“I can talk to ghosts, not work miracles.”
She shot me a wide, red-lipped smile. “Be back in a jiff.”
I paced. We needed to hurry. Really hurry. Like the-cops-would-be-here-any-minute hurry. My first introduction to the sheriff didn’t need to be with my hand in the victim’s underwear drawer.
Wait. Was Xavier even single?
