“Okay, son, wait for me in the hall. I’ll close this back up and we’ll go to the station to fill out a little paperwork.” Drew’s voice was soft, but I heard the fury brewing in it. There was also compassion that I hadn’t expected from a witch hunter. Then again, I didn’t know anything about them. Other than what Owen said.
Sam opened the door and motioned for us to follow when the coast was clear, and we tiptoed toward the outer door. We looked like a damn group of cartoon characters tiptoeing around like this.
Connor’s voice made us stop short at the door. Sam peeked through the little square and ducked quickly back down. “He’s just outside the door,” he mouthed and pointed.
“We were estranged,” he said.
Drew made a murmuring sound of understanding.
“But she was my mother. I can’t believe she’s gone. I can’t imagine who would hurt her.”
“Do you have any other family?” Drew asked.
Connor let out a little sob. “No. It was always me and mom. No family left at all, not that I know of.”
I widened my eyes at Olivia. She mouthed at me, “Told you so.”
Sam peeked out again, then cracked the door open and reached one hand out. Drew stuck his head in. “What?” he hissed.
“Don’t leave yet. Tell him you forgot something,” Sam whispered.
Drew’s head disappeared, and his footsteps faded down the hall toward the outside door. Then the footsteps loudened and Drew burst back into the room. “What?” he asked, looking aggravated.
“My realtor,” I said in a quiet voice. “She told me she was taking over as my realtor because Betty was out of town. She also said she’s Betty’s daughter.”
Drew’s jaw dropped. “That is some relevant information.”
I threw my hands up. “I know! That’s why we called you back.” Even though we weren’t sure what in the world he was.
“Does this realtor who isn’t Betty’s daughter have a name?”
“Carmen Moonflower.” She had to be the woman who attacked Owen. I was sure of it now.
He nodded at Sam. “Meet me at the station. After we do this paperwork, we’ll pay Ms. Moonflower a visit.”
I told Sam everything I knew, which was bupkis, and he left me, Olivia, and Owen looking at each other in total confusion.
“Now what?” I whispered.
Chapter Sixteen
“Now,” Owen began. “Now we go home and talk to Alfred. If he’s not the ghoul that did this, maybe he can help in some way.”
“I don’t see how,” I muttered and headed toward the door.
When we reached the car, Olivia's phone beeped. “Shoot,” she whispered. “I’ve got to stop and get Sammie. And I’ll stop whispering now.”
I giggled because this whole day has been insane. “That’s fine with me. I like having him around. He’s a cutie.”
She grinned at me. “You’re such a good friend. I didn’t want to have to give up on our murder solving fun.”
I shrugged. Friends now. Enemies before. Yet, I didn’t want her to have to leave, either. And I knew she wanted Sammie around anyway.
She ran into her mother’s place and was back about fifteen minutes later with Sammie clinging to her hip. After she buckled him into his car seat beside Owen, he stared at the older man with wide eyes. “Who are you?” Sammie asked.
“Owen, I’m a friend of your mommy’s.”
“Your hair is dirty.”
I tried not to laugh as Olivia gasped. “Sammie, that’s not nice.”
“It’s okay, he’s little.” Owen said but didn’t provide an explanation. I was a little disappointed because I wondered if he just had extremely oily hair. I heard him take a shower last night, so I know he was clean. Poor man.
I was starting to feel bad about thinking he was dirty.
When we pulled into my driveway, the contractors were about to pull out. They stopped and rolled down their windows. “What’s going on?” I asked. “It’s awfully early.”
“We’re taking off early for today,” Jude, the foreman said. “That house…” He shook his head. “You’ll be lucky if I convince my guys to come back tomorrow.”
Ugh. What now? “Thanks,” I muttered absently as I stared at the house. “I can’t even begin to know what to do about the house who hates the construction crew.”
Owen asked, “Did you try talking with the house?”
“Yes. Obviously, that didn’t help.”
As we stepped out of Olivia’s car, another vehicle pulled up behind us. As soon as I saw my old black sedan, the one I’d passed down to my son, my heart leaped with joy.
“Wallie!” I cried and raced to the car.
He jumped from the driver’s seat and gave me a big hug, picking my feet up off the ground because he was a lot taller than me. “Hey, Mom. Missed you.”
When he sat me on my feet, I framed his face. He had my green eyes and his father’s jet-black hair. Wallie also got his height and lean muscular build from Clay as well.
I was nearly in tears, not realizing just how much I missed my son. “I missed you so much, Wal Wal.” I squeezed him tight. “But what in the world are you doing here?”
He eyed the other people that got out of Olivia’s car. “It’s about what you asked me to research,” he said in a quiet voice. “Maybe we should go for some privacy.”
“About the witch hunters?” I asked.
He nodded and widened his eyes, then glanced around to see who else could have heard us.
“It’s okay, they know all about it. Come on in, sweetheart.” I took his hand and walked him into the house as Owen and Olivia followed, Olivia carrying Sammie. “The one thing about Shipton Harbor, it’s too small of a town for someone to have secrets.”
I glanced at Wallie and noted how he nodded but was still unsure.
“Alfred,” I called up the stairs. “The construction crew is gone early.” I turned to Wallie, smiling. My baby boy was home. “You’ll love Alfred. He’s a hoot.”
Wallie frowned and glanced to Olivia, then asked, “You’re Sam’s wife?”
“Yep.” Olivia grinned and indicated to Sammie on her hip. “This is little Sammie.”
Wallie smiled at Sammie. “Hi, little man.”
The ghoul in question walked stiffly down the stairs. I was learning his facial expressions, though at first it had seemed like he didn’t have any, on account of his stiff face. He was astonished to see Wallie there. I also felt a small amount of anxiety rolling from him. I really couldn’t blame him after being shot at by my BFF.
“Alfred, this is my son, Wallie. Wallie, this is my ghoul, Alfred.” I watched my son carefully for his reaction. What I saw was confusion and fear.
“Mom, what’s a ghoul?” Wallie glanced from Alfred to me and back again. His nose crinkled.
“The long story short is that a local necromancer died, and Alfred was his. Alfred doesn’t want to be freed from his fleshy prison, and ghouls need someone controlling them at all times, so now Alfred belongs to me.” I shrugged. “That’s all I really know about them.”