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“What’s wrong with the front door?”
She smirked. “Funny.”
“It was a legitimate question.”
“We can’t get through it. We can’t get through any door or window. That’s why I’ve come to you. We’re out of the usual ideas.”
The realization dawned on me. “You think it’s haunted.” I saved one missing girl, and now I had a reputation as the local ghost whisperer. Great.
“I’ll be honest, Miss Clay. I never really believed in spirits and all that nonsense, until 27 Thoreau Street.”
“How long have you lived here?”
“I moved here five years ago.”
Not born and raised in Fairhaven. That made sense. Most longtime residents seemed to have a sense of strange happenings in town, even if they didn’t choose to acknowledge them.
“If nobody can get inside, how do you know the owner died?” I asked.
She paused. “Well, we assume he’s still inside the house. Nobody’s seen Bruce Huang in seven months, and he hasn’t answered the door or the phone.”
Ray gave me a pointed look. “That could be you in another year.”
A successful recluse? As far as I was concerned, Bruce was living the dream.
“What’s the urgency with the house now? Mine sat empty for decades and nobody cared.”
She choked on laughter. “Bluebeard’s Castle is a far cry from the house on Thoreau Street. Besides, it’s on the outskirts of town, so there aren’t any near neighbors to complain. Even with my expertise, I wouldn’t have touched this place with a fifty-foot pole. No offense.”
“It was a stroke of luck for me that no one did.”
“If you say so.”
“Thoreau Street,” Ray murmured. “Is that the house with the yellow door?”
“Does the house have a yellow door?” I asked Fatima.
“It does.” Her brown eyes widened. “Can you sense it from here?”
I was tempted to yank her chain but decided it wasn’t worth it. “Ray Bauer told me. He’s a ghost on my property.”
“Ray Bauer, the carpenter?”
“Like Jesus Himself,” Ray said.
I snorted. “Yes, the carpenter.”
“Did you keep his spirit here to help you with the work?” Fatima asked, completely serious.
“No, I don’t need a project manager.”
“Then why didn’t he cross over?”
“You’d have to ask him that.” I gave Ray a meaningful sidelong glance. I still wasn’t sure of the answer myself. “I appreciate you coming in person, Ms. Fayez, but I’m not interested.”
“That’s disappointing. We could really use someone with your talent.”
A thought occurred to me. “If the owner’s presumed dead, who hired you to sell the house?” I asked.
