Free Haunted Renovation Mystery 1 - Flip That Haunted House by Rose Pressey

not-so-subtle
hint.
    “All right then, I’ll see you later.”
    I closed the door on his frowning face and
watched from the window as he trudged back to his truck. Lacey
stood at the entrance to the library when I came back.
    “Did you hear that?” I asked.
    She nodded. “Yeah. You don’t mince words, do
you?” She laughed.
    “Not really.” I chuckled. “Come on, let’s
get some cupcakes.”
    “Sounds like a plan.”
    “Let me grab the stuff.” I gathered my mess
and joined Lacey. She’d already made her way down the steps.
    “Hey, you’re pretty good with those
crutches.”
    “Upper body strength.” She snickered.
    “You know, you’re lucky it was your left leg
and you can still drive.”
    “Don’t I know it. Rob tried to stop me.
Ha!”
    “Follow me to my house and I’ll tell you why
Jim Richmond is such a snake in the grass.” I chuckled.
    She raised an eyebrow. “Well this I’ve got
to hear. And I’ll tell you about the ghost in the house who watched
you patch the hole in the wall.”
    “Hoo, boy.”

Chapter Thirteen
    The next day arrived bringing with it a
stunningly bright morning and good news—I had a handyman prospect.
Filled with anticipation, I was eager to start. Also, my
ghost-hunting gang was coming over for a mini-investigation. Things
would move along quickly now, my confidence spiked.
    After grabbing a leftover cupcake for
breakfast, I headed toward Maple Hill Road. When I pulled in the
driveway, an oversized white truck with massive tires waited for
me. The driver slept, his head leaned back on the headrest and
mouth open. The handyman, no doubt. I pulled up beside him and
peered up at the house. Proud owner—that’s me.
    A perfect morning for a little house rehab.
Brilliantly colored leaves from the maple trees danced in the wind
as they cascaded to the ground. The distinct smell of fall in the
air reminded me of autumn days as a child when days were spent
jumping into piles of leaves and sipping apple cider. The pressures
of adulthood had seemed like a million years away back then.
    I climbed out from behind the wheel and
stretched. The driver roused and spotted me staring. He jumped down
from the cab and ambled over. His uniform consisted of a torn gray
t-shirt and dirty jeans. His shaggy brown hair needed a trim.
    “Are you Ms. Hargrove?”
    “The one and only.” I extended my hand to
meet his.
    His hands felt like sandpaper.
    “I thought you were here already.” He looked
toward the house. “The lady inside wouldn’t answer the door.” He
fidgeted with his clipboard.
    “Trust me, there’s no one in the house. I
locked the door when I left.”
    No one except for a few ghosts.
    “Someone’s in there.” He pointed to the
window. “I saw her, plain as day. She watched me from the upstairs
window.” His face scrunched up. “She had dark hair and a frown on
her face.”
    Dark hair and a scowl matched Mama’s
description. If she thought a stranger was trying to get into her
baby’s house, she’d give him a frown or two. Although, she’d hide
until I got there to confront him. So maybe a ghost wasn’t to
blame. Was my mother in there again? I turned and marched toward
the house without another word.
    “Do you want me to go in first? You never
know who may be in there, or what they may do. Could be a burglar.”
He followed on my heels.
    “I can handle it. Thank you, though.”
    A gallant tough guy. How nice.
    I turned the knob, but it was locked. Just
like I’d left it. I jammed the key in the door, opened it, then
stuck my head in and peered around. Was anyone there? Perhaps the
ghost, the killer, or my mother? What had I gotten myself into?
    The house was eerily silent. I pushed aside
my fear and entered the foyer. One foot in front of the other, I
eased into the room. I still didn’t know if the guy following me
like a shadow was the handyman. After all, he hadn’t given me his
name. He could be the killer and lured me in here pretending to be
a