She nodded toward the door. Fannie Sullivan practically straddled it. With her arms crossed and her legs wide, the old woman barred any entry or exit.
“What’s going on here?” I said.
Alice pointed a crochet needle at the figure. “She looks like something’s wrong.” Alice’s mouth worked into a quivering line of worry. “Do you think she’s dehydrated or delusional? Maybe she’s on drugs.” She gasped. “Blissful, do you think she’s on drugs? Quick! Hide the money.”
“She’s not on drugs,” I scoffed. “Probably just Johnny Walker.”
“Oh.” Alice returned to furiously crocheting another set of booties no one would purchase. She stopped and twisted her head over her shoulder toward me. “What’s Johnny Walker?”
“Whiskey.” Ruth rubbed her face. “Honestly, Alice. How long have you been alive?”
“It’s not polite to ask a woman that question,” she whimpered. “Besides, you know the answer.”
Fannie made no move to enter. Maybe she’d been overcome with a stroke.
“She might need medical attention,” Ruth pointed out. “Blissful, you need to see what’s going on.”
“On it.” I stopped directly in Fannie's line of sight. A vacant stare filled her dark eyes. I waved my hand. She blinked quickly and shivered. After another moment she stepped to the side.
I opened the door. “You okay, Mrs. Sullivan? We were all worried about you.”
She shook her head. “I was walking by and noticed…” Her voice trailed off to silence.
“You noticed? What?”
Fannie rubbed her withered hand over her nose and mouth. “Oh, it was nothing. I thought I saw something.”
Had she come to give us information? “If there’s anything you remember about the Hudsons, we’re all ears. Mr. Menzel said the Hudsons were great people.”
Her eyes popped wide. “Oh, you spoke to him. Nice man. Good people.”
I nodded. “He is.” I stepped aside, allowing her room to pass me. “But if you’d like to come in, please do. We’re just talking about booties and ghosts.” I snapped my fingers. “Alice here says she remembers the Hudsons have a niece in town.”
Fannie's gaze darted to mine. “A niece? I wouldn’t know her.”
“She has a unique name,” Alice shot out. “You might remember her that way.”
“Can’t say I do.” Fannie's gaze froze on something in the room. It was several seconds before she blinked away. “I don’t want to disturb y’all. I’ve got laundry and a bottle at home calling my name. Y’all have a good day.”
Fannie slipped out of sight. Something about the way she acted bothered me. I pressed a finger to the crease forming between my eyes.
The last thing I needed was wrinkles. I didn’t want to admit in my old age that the town of Haunted Hollow had given me worry lines. How embarrassing would that be? I’d rather have a bullet scar from a gun-toting old lady with no aim than a worry line from a town full of spirits.
“She was staring at that.”
I followed Ruth’s finger to theSpiritus.
My gaze flickered to Ruth. “At the containment unit?”
“She sure was.” Ruth pulled a pinch of tobacco from a can and folded it between her lip and gums. “Couldn’t take her eyes off it.”
I frowned. “I wonder why.”
“I don’t know.” Ruth brushed the tobacco from her hands. “But you, Blissful Breneaux, need to find out.”
I nodded. “So I do.”
FIFTEEN
