The four of them crowded around. Brownie took one look in the hole and screamed bloody murder.
“Is that what I think it is?” Wallace said.
“Looks like a head,” Alice said. “Or a foot.”
“It’s a head,” Ruth snapped. Her wide eyes swiveled toward me. “Is that the ghost?”
I nodded. “Ladies and gentleman, this is the body of the woman that’s been haunting you. All the renovating woke her up, got her stirred into a tizzy, as it were. I don’t know her name, but hopefully we can discover that. But I present to you, your ghost who was murdered in this very house years ago.”
Brownie gasped again. “Murdered?”
I smiled. “Don’t worry. Once we get her out of here and lay her to rest, your problems should be gone.”
“I certainly hope so.” Wallace peered into the hole once more. “I’m going upstairs to call the police.”
I nodded. “That’s the right thing to do.”
“I’m going with you.” Brownie clutched Wallace’s arm as if it were a lifeline.
“I need more cookies.” Alice disappeared with them.
Ruth turned to me and whistled. “Wow. We found a skeleton. You are something else, Blissful. Just wait till this hits the papers.” She splayed her hands. “‘Local clairvoyant finds missing person, puts decades-old mystery to rest.’”
I shook my head. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, here. I’m only doing my job. But I’m glad I could help. I mean, these people don’t need to be terrorized by a spirit. No one does.”
“Yeah,” Ruth said. “But I wonder how that ghost knew about you.”
“Maybe she got out and we didn’t know about it. Went into town, had coffee and overheard people talking about me.”
Ruth tapped her mouth. “Maybe that’s it.” She did not look convinced. I wasn’t totally convinced, either, but as I stared at the bare skullcap encased in dirt, I realized it had to be the only way.
I shivered.
“All I know is I’m glad it’s over.” Ruth hummed to herself as we waited with the body until the police arrived.
A cold wind blew past, and I shivered again. Okay, that could not be coincidence. There had to be a reason why I was shivering.
I whipped around, expecting to see the lady and receive her thanks. After all, we were one step into solving her murder, thanks to me.
But instead I met a squat man wearing a white short-sleeved button-down shirt and pants that were cuffed at the ankles.
“Finally. Someone has figured out where that dame is. Now I can get some rest around here.”
His accent was distinctly Northern—as in East Coast Northern.
“What are you talking about?”
Ruth eyed me. At this point in our relationship she was used to me speaking with spirits. The fact that I could communicate with entities she didn’t see didn’t seem to rattle her very much. Or at all, actually.
“I’m talking about the fact that she was always moaning and groaning. Crying and stuff. Good riddance.”
A bowl of something appeared in his lap. The ghost dipped a spoon in—yes, it had also appeared out of nowhere. He took a big bite and chewed.
“You know,” he said, “one thing I love about Southern cooking is grits. Don’t ask me why. Bland as hell but delicious if seasoned just right.”
“Who are you?” A tingling sensation washed up the back of my scalp. That wasn’t good. “Are you the ghost that’s been haunting this family?”
“Nah, that’s not me.” He pointed to the bones. “But it wasn’t her either, not totally.”
