Page 28 of Gumbo, Ghosts, and Deadly Deception (A Midnight House Mystery #1)

SEVENTEEN

“Are we ready?” Maggie asked, plopping herself down in the wicker chair next to me on the front porch at Midnight House.

“Ready. Let Beggar’s Night commence.”

It was Halloween night and we were set up with full size candy bars, hot apple cider, and fuzzy blankets that were more for atmosphere than need.

The night was warm with a mild breeze and I was regretting my costume choice as a Beanie Baby skunk. I was already overheated in all that faux fur. Teddy was puttering around the porch dressed as Wednesday Addams. He didn’t look any happier with his apparel than I felt with mine.

Maggie, on the other hand, was dressed as a contestant on Squid Games, so track pants and a T-shirt. She looked comfortable as heck and I had regrets.

“Remember when we used to go out in sexy costumes?” she asked, tossing a handful of caramel corn into her mouth. “I can’t believe I used to wear heels.”

“Vaguely. That feels like a hundred years ago. When we were young,” I say, wryly. “Before we got wrapped up in the true crime business.”

It was two weeks after Arthur Kellum's arrest, and life at Midnight House had settled into something resembling normal.

The media attention had died down, the crime scene tape was gone, and I'd managed to book multiple new guests, all of whom seemed genuinely excited about staying in a "recent murder house. "

Apparently, there was no such thing as bad publicity in the haunted hospitality business, though I’m sure it helped that there was a person in custody for the crime.

“One, we’re still young so lay off the sarcasm. Two, I feel like this business found us, not the other way around.” Maggie put her hand in the bowl again. “This stuff is amazing. I could eat ten pounds of this.”

“Do you think we riled up the spirits by doing our podcast?” I’d been on the lookout for any signs of the paranormal around Midnight House, but things had been quiet.

“We didn’t invite murder into our lives, if that’s what you mean. This business with Arthur was brewing for four decades.”

“You’re right," I said, scratching behind Teddy's ears. "Though I'm hoping for a nice, quiet period of regular B&B operations. You know, with guests who check in alive and check out the same way."

"Boring," Maggie declared. "Well, I don’t mean that I want anyone to die. But we want hints at the paranormal at the very least. Our podcast downloads are way up since we released the first Delia DuMont episode. Abigail Hart’s video where she goes over your social media post with the sliver of Arthur in the background has really been a big hit. "

“I do owe Abigail a thank you. She’s personally responsible for booking half these new guests with that video. I can’t believe she even wants to talk about her stay here.”

“She’s trauma processing.”

I had spoken to Abigail several times and she definitely seemed to want to talk about what had happened, get it out there.

She had even said she would love to stay at Midnight House again, just to purge any bad memories or associations.

For being relatively young, she had impressed me with her tenacity.

“The engagement on Teddy’s pics are up as well.”

Teddy preened at the mention of his name, his tail twitching with what I chose to interpret as modest pride.

"Don't let it go to your head," I warned him.

The first few trick-or-treaters were starting to straggle up and down the street. We never got a ton of kids in our neighborhood, which was why I had indulged in the full size candy bars.

My phone buzzed. “Abigail must have heard us talking about her. She just texted me.”

Can you chat?

We’re passing out candy. Tomorrow?

Oh, right! Time change. I just wanted to talk to you about my bestie Lottie’s bachelorette weekend. We want to have it at Midnight House! I’ll shoot you over some dates and you tell me which weekends are free.

That sounds great…we can really plan a fun weekend!

“Abigail wants to have a bachelorette weekend for her friend here,” I told Maggie.

“Wow. That’s an…idea.”

A couple of kids ran up my walkway dressed as cowboys. One was silent, the other gave an incredibly rambunctious, “Trick-or-treat!”

“Here you go, cowboy.” I passed over a candy bar to each, loving the way their eyes lit up when they saw how big they were.

They gave thank yous in a tone of reverence.

“You’re setting a precedent, you know,” Maggie told me. “You’ll have to do full size again next year or they’ll be mad. Kids keep score.”

“Fine with me. I’d rather be known as ‘big candy lady’ than the Murder House.”

“Murder House is a great name for a podcast.”

I sipped my hot apple cider. “Midnight House works for me.”

"You could always market the B&B as the most authentic haunted house experience in New Orleans. 'Stay at Midnight House, where the ghosts are real and the murders are recent.'"

"That's terrible, even for you."

"But think about the podcast episodes we could do. We’d have a spin off show where we dig into residential murders around New Orleans. Featuring Midnight House as the first episode. You’d be booked solid. It’s a win-win."

"I’ll think about it. It’s important that we do episodes that bring an injustice to light with a cold case, or focus on marginalized populations, or expose corruption. I don’t want to just be salacious.”

“That is true. That has always been our mission. And if we get too busy, we won’t have time for a social life.”

“Do we have one of those? Maybe you do, but I sure don’t.”

“Oh, really?” Maggie murmured. “Look what the cat dragged in.”

She was grinning, looking past me to the side of my house.

I turned and there was Detective Hollis Broussard, looking relaxed in jeans and a Saints T-shirt.

“Where’s your costume?” Maggie demanded.

He held his arms out. “I’m a retired Drew Brees. Living my best life.” He climbed the porch steps and took the chair next to me. “What are you?” he asked, eyeing my black and white fluff.

“A skunk Beanie Baby.”

He gave a grunt that might have been approval. It was hard to tell with Hollis. “Maggie? Are you an eighties track star?”

“No. Squid Games contestant.”

“Ah. Obviously.” Hollis bent down and rubbed Teddy’s fur. “Sorry, my furry little friend. You got saddled with a woman who likes to dress you up. Hard to feel like a man, isn’t it?”

“Teddy loves it,” I protested.

Teddy leaned in closer to Hollis.

Hollis shot me a smile, which made him irritatingly good looking. “Talked to Abigail Hart lately?” he asked.

And…his dubious charm went down a notch or two.

“As a matter of fact, we were just texting. She wants to come back to Midnight House.”

Hollis grabbed a handful of caramel corn and pretended to look nonchalant. “When?”

“I don’t know yet. I’ll be sure to let you know so you can carry her luggage.”

“Oof,” Maggie said.

Maybe I sounded jealous, which I definitely wasn’t. And a little catty. It wasn’t that I didn’t like Abigail. I just didn’t like the idea of Hollis and Abigail.

Okay, maybe I was a little jealous.

He studied my face for a long moment, and I was struck by how dark his eyes were.

The pause felt momentous. Like he was going to say something important.

Instead, he said, “Can I have some cider?”

I made a face. “Sure. But only after you guess what Teddy’s costume is. I’ll give you three chances.”

“If I’m doing all that you need to at least put whiskey in my cider then.”

“Go to a bar if you want whiskey. There’s only a million of them in this city.”

“A million and one,” Maggie agreed.

“On Halloween? I’d rather chew glass.”

“Not a fan of crowds, Detective Broussard?” Maggie asked.

“Nope.”

“Not surprising for a guy who looks at dead bodies for a living.”

His eyebrows shot up. “Now that’s the pot calling the kettle black, Miss Maggie.”

“Touche.”

Why did it suddenly feel now like they were flirting?

They weren’t. Maggie would never do that.

But she was right—I had a Hollis situation.

Maybe I should download a dating app.

“Teddy is dressed like Wednesday Addams,” Hollis said. “It’s the wig with the braids that gave it away.”

“That was too easy, wasn’t it?” I picked up a plastic cup and filled it from the jug I had on the coffee table.

“I am a detective.”

When I handed him the cup our fingers touched and I yanked them back far too quickly to look anything less than insane.

“Abigail’s friend is getting married,” I suddenly blurted out. “Isn’t twenty-three a little young to get married?”

“Maybe her friend is older,” Maggie said with a shrug.

“Maybe some people are the marrying kind,” Hollis commented.

“What kind of people are we?” I mused. “Three singles sitting on a porch waiting for kids to beg for candy.”

“We speak for the dead,” Maggie said.

Hollis raised his cup in salute.

I realized that despite everything—the murders, the danger, the constant disruption to my quiet B&B life—I was actually looking forward to whatever came next.

Midnight House had chosen me to be its keeper, its voice for the voiceless, its champion for justice. And with Hollis beside me, Maggie as my backup, and Teddy as my early warning system, I was ready for whatever secrets were still waiting to be uncovered.

“As long as the dead don’t speak back,” I said.

Although, knowing New Orleans, that might be easier said than done. In a city where the line between history and legend was always blurry, where the dead seemed just as present as the living, maybe a simple life just wasn’t in the tarot cards.

We’ve. Got. Ghosts.

Thank your for reading Gumbo, Ghosts, and Deadly Deception! Keep an eye out for Book 2 in the Midnight House Mystery series. Harper, Teddy, and Maggie's next adventure promises even more secrets, spirits, and Southern sass!

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