Zelda perched herself on a velvet chaise and motioned for me to sit in a chair. The fibers were slick. Was it horsehair?
“Ms. Breneaux, I suppose you’re wondering why I asked you here for my annual Christmas séance. As you know, there are plenty of people I could invite to my little get together, and the honor is usually reserved for the best of the best—those who may be able to help me politically or socially in some way.”
Had I just been insulted? “I haven’t lived in Haunted Hollow my whole life, so I wasn’t aware of all that.”
She chuckled quietly. “I know that, of course, but your little company has made quite a splash in town. It’s a bit quaint and definitely not what I would think of as reputable, but I’ve heard of it, all the same.”
Now I was definitely insulted. “Mrs. Zimmerman—”
“Zelda.”
“If you’ve invited me here to insult me, then I’ll just be leaving.”
If necessary, I would find another way to reach my father, one that wouldn’t rely on what was probably a hoax of a séance anyway.
Zelda tsked. “Now, now, my dear. One must be able to take a little criticism every now and then. Otherwise you’ll never learn in life, now will you.”
I wanted to throat punch her.
She continued. “But I invited you here because you intrigue me.”
I cocked a brow. “How’s that?”
“Well, you show up in Haunted Hollow and start helping people get rid of the spirits in their haunted houses. Once I discovered you were actually the real deal, of course I had my private detective look into you.”
“Of course,” I agreed as if that was normal behavior.
“That’s when he uncovered that you have a long history of working with ghosts. Does the name Ghost Team ring any bells?”
My back went rigid. No one was supposed to know about the Ghost Team.
“Don’t look so surprised. I have friends in many levels of government. When Zelda Zimmerman needs information, she gets it.”
“Okay,” I said.
“As we uncovered more, I came to understand that your father, Vince, passed away a couple of years ago, and you didn’t receive his position as director of the Ghost Team when he crossed over.”
“That’s right. Look, Mrs.—”
“Zelda,” she reminded me a bit scornfully.
“Zelda,” I said with an exhale. “I don’t understand why you’ve gone to so much trouble to look into me.”
She flipped open a box resting on a table beside her and pulled out a long tube. “Vape?”
“No, thank you.”
She clicked on her machine and began inhaling. As much as I wanted to point out that was bad for her, I kept my mouth shut.
“Of course you don’t understand why I called you here. Why would a rich medium need a little girl with purple—”
“Violet.” It was my turn to interrupt. “My hair is violet.”
Zelda gave me a once-over full of disdain. “Violet hair. Why would I need you?”
“That’s what I’m trying to figure out.”
“You see—”
