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“He’s pinned to dirt though,” I said. “That suggests he’s not in the house.”

“Unless the house has no floors,” Belle said. “Or perhaps he’s simply been shoved under them. That would also explain her sense of restricted space.”

“Possible.” The sound of an approaching siren had me looking around. A ranger vehicle raced toward us. “That’ll be Jaz.”

We stopped near the old house’s gate, and she swung in beside us, braking hard enough to send dust flying. She bounced out of the SUV, her grin wide. “Sorry for the noise, but the traffic wouldn’t get out of my way fast enough without it.”

“And besides that, you like going fast with all sirens blazing,” I said, voice dry.

“There is that.” She stopped beside me and studied the old house, her golden eyes bright in the sunshine. “That’s the Hargraves’ place. The old girl who owns it was moved into aged care some ten years ago but refused to sell the place. Insisted her son still lives there.”

“And does he?” Monty asked.

Jaz shook her head. “He died fifteen years ago. Before my time, but apparently he was cleaning the roof, slipped off, and broke his neck.” She sniffed and glanced pointedly at Ashworth “Older men and ladders are never a good combination, in my limited experience.”

“Glad I’m not the only one who was casting him a disapproving eye,” Eli said, his tone also dry.

“Hey,” Ashworth said, raising his hands. “I had all the magical protections necessary, so was never in danger. Now, is anyone sensing anything untoward around that house?”

“Yeah,” Belle said, “the old lady was right. Her sonisliving here.”

Monty’s gaze shot toward her. “We’ve got a ghost?”

“Indeed.” She frowned. “A very pissed-off one, too.”

“Because he’s dead?” Eli asked. “Or because his mother no longer lives there?”

“Neither. He’s been blocked from the house.”

“By magic?” I studied the building with a frown. “Because I’m not sensing anything.”

“Not magic.” She wrinkled her nose. “It’s a physical barrier of some kind, from what he’s saying.”

“What sort of physical barrier can block a ghost?” Jaz asked, her expression confused.

“Salt is most commonly used,” Eli said. “But iron is also a well-known deterrent. It’s also said that cat’s eye shells can block them, though they’re more commonly used in Europe and the Middle East for protection against the evil eye.”

“The things you learn,” Jaz muttered, amusement obvious.

I smiled and glanced at Belle. “Can you ask him if anyone has been going in and out of the building?”

She hesitated. “He hasn’t seen anyone, but he’s heard some activity both in the house and in the sheds.”

“Has he been in the sheds?” I asked.

“No, because apparently they’re full of snakes and he hates snakes.”

Monty snorted. “He’s a ghost. The bastards aren’t likely to see him, let alone bite him.”

“Becoming a ghost doesn’t mean you lose all your pre-ghost prejudices and fears,” Belle said dryly. “It just means you can’t be hurt by them.”

“Perhaps we should briefly split up,” Ashworth said. “Eli and I will check the sheds, you three do a walk around the house.”

“If you’re opening and entering the sheds, I’ll come with you to record it,” Jaz said.

Ashworth nodded and the three of them headed through the broken gate and around to the left. We went straight on, following the rutted stony path toward the old truck parked at the end of the drive. It had a decided lean on it, suggesting the tires and possibly even the springs on the driver’s side had gone. It was also covered in bird crap, cobwebs, and dirt. I suspected the last person to drive it was the man who now haunted the place.

The house itself was an old miners’ cottage with a rectangular section built onto the back that jutted out an extra ten feet from the end of the main house. The red tin roof on the original part had partially collapsed, but all the windows remained intact and there was no graffiti to be seen anywhere, which was unusual in this day and age. Maybe our ghost kept both taggers and vandals away. Fifteen years was certainly long enough for a more determined spirit to gain some skill in interacting with thisworld, even if it was nothing more than unleashing a moan or shifting random bits of furniture.