Free Home For the Haunting: A Haunted Home Renovation Mystery by juliet blackwell

the door with something heavy:
Bam bam bam . . . bam!
    There wasn’t a knocker on either access door. Maybe they were pounding with a rock or a bar of some sort.
    Bam bam bam . . . bam!
    As I watched the door, little puffs of dust arose with each hammering. Orangey rays seeped in through the cracks surrounding the door, reminding me that while the afternoon was waning, there was still daylight out there. A lot of good that did me.
    Then I realized that I didn’t see a shadow cast through the cracks in the door.
    The banging stopped. But then I heard whistling again . . . this time from the opposite end of the building.
    “Hello?” I said. My voice came out as a low croak. I cleared my throat and tried again. “Are you trying to communicate with me?”
    Two more bangs on the door. I wondered . . .
    “Two bangs for yes, one for no.”
    I waited. Silence. So much for the Morse code approach to ghosts.
    “Linda? Linda, if you’re here, I’d like to help. Could you give me a sign, talk to me?”
    Bam bam bam. Bam!
    “Stop banging already,” said a child’s voice from outside. “I’m opening the door.”
    The door swung open.
    It was Kobe, the other kids loitering behind him, trying to look around him into the shed. Kobe gave me a disgusted, patronizing look, as though I were the child and he the adult.
    “You not supposed to be in here,” he said. “Don’t you know not to cross crime scene tape? Says right there, DO NOT CROSS .”
    “I didn’t. I went in the other way,” I said before I could stop myself. Why did I feel compelled to explain myself?
    “Who you talking to, anyway?” he demanded.
    This time I didn’t answer.
    “And what are you wearing?” he asked, looking at today’s outfit, a bit worse for the day I’d had working on the foundation, plus the dust and grime of the shed. I pulled a twig out of my fringed hem and swiped at a smudge of grease on my arm.
    “Never mind my dress. I’m a grown-up; I get to wear what I want. Did you push me in here?”
    “What are you talking about?”
    “Just a few minutes ago, someone pushed me in here. On the other side of the shed. Is this some kind of joke?”
    “You crazy, lady,” Kobe said, shaking his head and looking at me with disapproval. “We was just walking by and Monty told us someone was back here, banging on the shed door, and would we come see who it was fool enough to get their sorry selves stuck in the shed where they just found a body.”
    I glanced up to the top of the side alley and saw Monty on the porch, craning his neck around the corner. He raised a hand to me.
    “Hey, Mel? You okay? What are you doing in there?”
    “Yeah, thanks, fine,” I called. Then I turned my attention back to the kids. “Thanks for letting me out.”
    “I’m tellin’ ya, you shouldn’t be here. Even if it wasn’t the actual place she was killed, it’s still creepy.”
    “What do you mean, ‘not the actual place she was killed’?”
    “I overheard the police talking. They couldn’t find the pill vials or whatever and there was some throw-up that should have been on the floor or whatever. They think maybe she was moved.”
    “Why were you listening in on the cops?” I asked as we walked back up the alley between houses.
    “Wasn’t listening, exactly. ’Cept grown-ups think kids are like the furniture or whatever. Can I help it if they talk right in front of me? I got ears, don’t I?”
    “Yeah,” said a couple of kids behind him in support. His very own Greek chorus. I wondered what Kobe would grow up to become: CEO of a global corporation, leader of a cult, bestselling author? No matter what, I was willing to bet this young fellow would lead a fascinating life.
    “Anyway, we’re outta here. Stay out of the shed, will ya?” said Kobe as he strolled down the street, followed by his entourage.
    “Thanks again. Hey, we’re going to be working here again next weekend, and the deal still stands: You come help with some