Chapter 9
I waited to hear Dane’s good news.
He rocked me a little in our hug. “At least we now have proof someone really did murder William.”
Oh.
I thought about it for a second.
“Yeah, I guess that’s true.” More good.
Technically, I was already pretty sure of that considering no one drowned without water in their lungs.
After another moment, I stepped away from Dane. I needed a little distance when I told him about the surprise I’d been hiding for our night.
“Although I have a little bad news.” At least he’d probably find it a bad thing. I was mostly excited.
The kitchen island in Dane’s unit had a bowl of rocks. I picked one up and ran my finger over the smooth, gray surface.
“What?” he asked, stealing the rock from me when I tossed it in the air to catch it. “Is it going to annoy me?”
“Everything annoys you.” I grabbed another rock and tossed it only for him to catch it. Yeah, he deserved this. “We have another walking ghost tour tonight. We need to call the cops about my room now if we’re going to make it on time.”
Dane grabbed my third rock right from my hand before I had time to toss it and put all the rocks back into the bowl. “We’re not calling the cops.”
“Why not?” The cops needed to know they had a criminal in their city.
“Because.” He pushed the rocks away from me when I tried to grab another one. “Then we’ll have a bunch of red tape, and they’ll tell us to stop looking into things. Do you want that?”
Eww. “No.”
“Exactly, so no cops. Not until we have to bring them in.” I agreed to his plan. We had to be super close to the killer if they were willing to break into my place. “Now, why are we going on another one of these tours? I’m starting to believe you just like doing them.”
I did.
“It’s the best way to talk with William’s coworkers. He had no girlfriend, and his mom lives in Atlanta.” I grabbed a rock when he turned his head. “It’s the easiest way.”
We had a mini stare-off.
I won.
Dane groaned when he realized we were doing the tour. “I can’t believe we’re doing another one of these corny things.”
“I could just approach them on the sidewalk and start asking questions.” Actually, that wasn’t a horrible idea. Maybe it would work.
“No,” Dane said strongly, as if he’d read my mind. “Grab your coat. The forecast says it might rain.”
* * *
Our tour started earlier than the previous ones. The sun was still shining across the street as it made its way to the horizon. Charleston at night was a different beast, but the twilight period bathed the town in a special glow.
The Spanish moss hung lower, almost heavier, as if it had secrets to share, but only once the sun lowered. Ahead of us, the Circle Cemetery loomed as streetlights flickered to life, highlighting the half-buried gravestones in shadows.
I tightened my coat against me as our group came to a slow stop. The temperature was dropping steadily, but somehow the humidity held on, making me half cold and half sweaty. Our group of ten tourists gathered in front of a black iron gate.
“You have to admit, the cemeteries in this town really are freaky,” I whispered to Dane.
He glanced at me. “They’re old. That happens.”
Man, he really had no sense of thrill. For a man who spent years in the military, he lacked an adventurous spirit.
“It’s a vibe.”
He barked out a laugh. “Okay, yes. It has a vibe.”
I shot a few pictures from the video I was recording on my phone. The quality would be a little less than a regular picture, but I didn’t want to stop recording in case the hoodie guy came back.
“You should start rating ghost tours as part of your program,” Dane said. I think he meant it as a joke, but it wasn’t a horrible idea. Could I talk my boss into it? “This one has a certain creepy-chic vibe.”
Our guide, a small, thin woman named Tracy in a vintage tan trench coat, lifted an electric lantern with a flourish. “Welcome to Charleston’s most haunted resting place. The Circle Cemetery. Here the dead don’t move on but linger.”
I smirked. She had a good flair for dramatics. Dane rolled his eyes.
See? No adventure.
“Let’s go inside and see if anyone is out tonight,” Tracy said as she opened the gate.
“Ohh, spooky,” Dane whispered in my ear.
I batted his hand away. One, because his lack of excitement annoyed me, but also because having his lips so close to my ear made my stomach get twisty.
And we weren’t going to consider that right now.
We followed our group down the gravel path. Our shoes crunched against the loose stone, mixing with Tracy’s comments about Civil War soldiers, yellow fever, and a ghost bride who sometimes appeared in a ripped wedding dress.
I leaned against Dane as I whispered, “Is it a requirement that every haunted cemetery have a sad bride?”
His lips tipped up. “She’s probably on the payroll.”
No adventure, but he was funny.
I tried not to laugh.
Tracy talked about the different types of headstones and then told us to wander the area and find our favorite.
We worked our way closer to her, and I kept my voice low to respect the dead. I doubted they wanted me up in their business talking loudly while they were trying to haunt people.
“Quick question,” I said when Tracy’s attention turned to us by her side. “Do you know a guy named William? He did tours here. Right?”
Tracy’s lips parted. “William?”
“Yeah. I follow his blog, and I heard he might have transferred to Boone Hall. Do they have a ghost tour?”
Our guide tilted her head in thought. “No, William would never leave our company. He’s best friends with the owner.”
That’s new.
“You’re sure?” I asked, trying to work out the fresh pieces of this new story.
“Positive.” Tracy’s smile twitched. “But…”
She just needed a little push. “I have a friend who swore she saw him leading a tour at Boone Hall a few months ago.”
Tracy shook her head, looking back at our group as they wandered the cemetery. “That’s not possible.”
“Because he wouldn’t leave here?” Why was she so sure of that? People left jobs all the time.
She leaned in closer to whisper low enough no one else would hear. “Because William died. About six months ago, he had an accident and drowned.”
I feigned shock. “That’s so horrible. I’m sorry. We had no idea. Did we, honey?”
“None at all,” Dane deadpanned, not being a talented actor at all.
Tracy shook her head. “It was very tragic.”
Before I had the chance to press her for more information, a loud gasp had us all turning. A squeal came from the far right of the tour beside the largest headstone.
“He’s proposing!” someone yelled, like we didn’t all have eyeballs to realize what a man on one knee meant.
He pulled out a ring box, and the woman with him covered her mouth with her hand. His girlfriend—soon to be fiancée—had tears running down her face as she nodded.
Tracy moved closer to the couple. Her spooky lantern cast weird shadows in the cemetery. “They say love is eternal, especially here in Charleston. I’m sure even the spirits are clapping.”
Everyone in the group took that as their cue, and a chorus of applause broke out. One woman had her phone out. The college-age kid behind her took a selfie with the couple in the background. People were weird.
“A haunted ghost tour. Really?” Dane whispered. He looked on at the couple as if he’d just eaten something gross.
I tapped him on the arm with the back of my hand. “It’s cute.”
“You’re so weird,” he said. “Next you’ll tell me cemetery proposals are trending.”
“Say whatever you want, but this still isn’t the weirdest thing to happen to us in Charleston this trip.”
Dane flipped his head from one side to the other in thought and agreement.
Tracy cleared her throat loudly to recapture our group’s attention. “Now, let’s get our spotlight back on our local ghosts before they get too jealous.”
I barely heard the next story as she led us from the cemetery. My mind kept circling over the key facts of the case. William was dead. But was it jealousy over a highly regarded position at Boone Hall, ghosts, or something more sinister?
“We need to move up the food chain,” I said to Dane as we found our spot at the back of the group.
A tall person, he had to be over six-foot-tall, walked out from between two buildings to our left. I watched him, something in my gut saying I’d been here before.
“Dane,” I whispered, getting his attention. The kid in the hoodie turned about-face and walked away from us. “He’s a suspect.”
“What?” Dane yelled, but I’d already started for the person.
He glanced back, saw me, and took off in a run.
Damn it.