“Her husband hadn’t been hitting her,” I clarified.
“Oh no.” She wagged her finger. “But who would believe that? You hear screams, the police are called and the woman said her husband wasn’t hitting her? There’s something rotten there.”
I agreed. If the husband wasn’t hitting her, could the screams have come from a guest? From Molly Menzel? I shivered just thinking about it.
“Is there anything else you can remember about the Hudsons?”
“No, I can’t say that I do.” She pointed in the direction of the house. “I like that new family, though. They’ve got that sweet daughter. Sometimes I let her play with one of my cats.”
Horror must’ve lit my face like a brilliant star, because Fannie cackled.
“She doesn’t play with the dead ones, silly. The living cats. She plays with the ones who have beating hearts.”
My stomach tightened as nausea overcame me. I think it was this house—all the dead cats. Creepy.
I rose. “Thank you for your time, Fannie.”
She tapped her armrests. “Thank you for the help.”
I reached the door and pulled it open. Another thought occurred to me. I glanced back. “One thing I’m wondering.”
She tossed the scotch into her mouth. “What’s that, dear?”
“What happened to the Hudsons? Where are they now?”
She moved her jaw side to side. Her bright eyes studied me. “Didn’t you know?”
“Know what?”
“One day the Hudsons just vanished. They were in business on a Monday, and by Tuesday they were gone.”
I swallowed a knot in my throat. “What happened to them?”
Fannie rocked her chair back and forth. The creaking was the only sound in the room. “My dear, no one knows what happened to them.That”—she poked the air—“is a great mystery. If you can solve it, I’ll give you one of my cats.”
Ugh. No thanks. But I did plan to find out what happened to the Hudsons. For that I would need some help. Luckily I knew exactly who to ask.
EIGHT
“Ineed some information about Haunted Hollow and want to speak to Mr. Hodges.” My gaze cut to Alice. “He likes you. You want to come with me so he’ll help?”
Alice’s face blushed a deep red. “What do you mean, he likes me?”
“Y’all went on a date. He likes you.”
Words stumbled out of her. “We only went on one date. One. We’ve never been out again.” She folded her arms and huffed. “That doesn’t mean he’s still interested.”
I shot Ruth a pointed look. “Y’all had a great date, and you never went out with Hodges again. He likes you.”
“How do you know we had a great date,” Alice said accusingly.
“Because you told me,” I said with frustration. “You told me that y’all had a great date. It was so good you swore to never go out with him again for fear of—whatever. Losing your heart. Your mind. Maybe your glasses.”
“What I wouldn’t give for that woman to wear contacts,” Ruth said. “She’s always losing her frames. ‘Where did I put my glasses, Ruth?’ She calls me on the phone and asks me.” Ruth threw up her hands. “How should I know? I don’t sleep next to you.”
I bit back a laugh.
Alice’s lower lip trembled. “I just think you might have a good idea of where I leave my glasses, is all. I don’t always remember.”
