Haunted House Ghost (Braxton Campus Mysteries Book 5)

Book summary

On Halloween in Braxton, the town buzzes with excitement, but Kellan has a different plan – moving into a mysterious old house. When a vengeful ghost threatens him, he enlists the help of the quirky town historian and a psychic. A skeleton's discovery and a suspicious festival accident add to the intrigue. Amid sparks of chemistry, Kellan unravels the Grey family's dark history, aiming to catch a killer and calm the restless ghost.

Excerpt from Haunted House Ghost (Braxton Campus Mysteries Book 5)

“Grab some popcorn, Emma. We’re about to watch a hilarious show.” Waffling over which diva would win today’s sparring match, I rubbed my hands together as if I were starting a fire from kindling. An intoxicating and picture-perfect cranberry, apple, and chestnut salad tantalized me as Emma now whirled a lazy Susan on the table like a pro. If we shared our food, would the visions stop?

“Are you still worried it’s haunted by ghosts?” Nana D drizzled syrup on her voluminous stack of fluffy pancakes—I suddenly recalled that everything was pumpkin-flavored for her in October—and ravenously swallowed a forkful. Between her tiny button nose and the lengthy, henna-rinsed braid she’d soon trip over, Nana D was an undeniably humorous vision. When she put on her tailored green twill suit, I’d call her my lucky charm. It usually resulted in a painful pinch on the underside of my arm, but the utter shock and frustration on her face was worth the temporary discomfort.

“There’s no such thing as ghosts,” Emma stated with the assurance of a much wiser girl. When raspberry jelly unexpectedly dripped to her chin, she snorted. “It’s just magic fairies.”

“Whatever it is, I don’t like it. Nicky separately chatted with the new workers this week. The crew claims someone in a white lace gown was floating on the second floor when they arrived to begin construction.” I’d thought at the time they must’ve drunk too much the night before, but after my own frightening and hair-raising experience, a cavernous dollop of fear stirred inexorably.

“What else happened? Maybe Eleanor can solve this hocus pocus nonsense.” My mother, already stuffed from a nonfat yogurt parfait and the miniscule morsel of pie filling she’d snuck earlier, aimlessly pushed fruit around her plate. No pancakes for her, mostly since her vanity echoed that of the queen from Snow White. Despite being ten years younger than my father and looking at least ten years younger than her true age, she constantly fretted about her weight and fading youth.

“Tools moved when no one was in the room. A minor overnight flood when Nicky supposedly turned off the water. Scratching noises inside the walls.” I swallowed the remaining food on my plate and pushed back my chair with a flourish. I wanted to unhook my belt to gain some breathing room but refused to admit defeat. I’d increase my upcoming workouts to counter the impulsive overeating. The stress of construction delays was wearing me down. “Eleanor threw angelica root around the house and volunteered to sing a freakish chant about poltergeists. She claims it’ll protect me against evil spirits.”

“I’m confident your prankster is the ghost of Prudence Grey. We’re approaching the fiftieth anniversary of her disappearance. She lived there with Hiram and is probably rolling in her grave, seething that he sold it.” Nana D unexpectedly shivered with excitement, then directed Emma to check on Baxter. “Little ears shouldn’t hear what I’m about to tell you.”

“Don’t even think about embellishing the story, Mom. We’ve heard you complain interminably about Hiram Grey’s past.” My mother was adamant about controlling Nana D’s gossipy nature. Though often careful with her words, someday, loose lips would bite Nana D in the you-know-where.

“Pish! Last time, I only told Kellan that Prudence disappeared. The truth would’ve scared him from buying the house, despite Ulan’s imminent arrival in Pennsylvania.” Nana D smiled sanctimoniously as she shared the troubled history of the infamous Greys.

Prudence was Hiram’s first wife. Hiram, four years older, had just finished his senior year at Braxton College and enrolled in law school, obsessed with becoming a judge. Although Prudence had once been a stunning ingénue, she entered a rough period after giving birth to their son, Damien, and surviving independently while Hiram focused on his studies. Her parents had also died in a tragic accident, leaving her an emotional wreck. No one realized she’d suffered from postpartum depression.

“On Halloween in 1968, a gigantic organized protest against the Vietnam War erupted on campus. Everyone, professors and students alike, participated. Some were for it, others against it. It was a difficult time,” Nana D explained while scraping our plates into the trash compactor. “Hiram insists he’d left Prudence at home with Damien because he had to attend a vital class, but the professor recorded him as absent that day. When a bunch of students turned violent, the protest escalated, and the college library caught fire.”

Construction of a new wing on the building had been in process. Workers had finished early and already left the site. The protest was most volatile directly outside the oldest part of the library, but the Chief of the Fire Department was never sure how the blaze had started. Multiple people had witnessed Prudence enter the library during the demonstration, yet they never saw her exit.

“Your father was there, Kellan. He was only a teenager but remembers all the commotion. It was awful, and although no one actually died,” my mother began, casting a warning glance at Nana D, “it caused widespread damage and delayed the library’s renovation plans. By the time everything sorted itself out, the temperature had grown too frigid to break ground again.”

“What does this have to do with Prudence Grey haunting my new house?” I sighed, unable to decipher the connection between the two events. Time to further reel in the busybody yentas.

“Patience, brilliant one. I’m getting there,” Nana D rebuked, waggling a finger in my direction. “Prudence vanished. Hiram never spoke with her after he’d left the house that morning. The last place he saw his wife was allegedly carting a box into your basement. She loved that home so much… at least she’s not stuck haunting someone else.” Nana D wearily glanced downward, fanning herself.

“It’s possible that Prudence got trapped in the library and died in the fire. The winds were gusty that day and made the whole tragedy hard to contain. The firemen checked as soon as the opportunity presented itself but never found a body. All hearsay, since I was hardly out of diapers,” my mother added with a wink, eyeing the second round of fragrant pumpkin pies Nana D retrieved from the oven.

“Hiram claims Prudence suffered from a severe depression that prevented her from being a proper mother to Damien.” Nana D grew lost in the heartbreaking tale, eyes deep with remorse and regret. “I didn’t know her well, but Prudence was an innocent young lady before she’d married that fool and suffered his folly. Men suck. Don’t they, Violet, dear?”

“I’m not sure I understand. What precisely are you suggesting happened to Prudence? Is she buried under the library and moonlighting as a vengeful spirit in my new digs?”

“That’s the fifty-year-old mystery. Hiram moved out the next day and into the Grey estate with his family. No one’s ever heard from Prudence, and everyone who’s dared to live there flees within a week after complaining about peculiar noises and unexplained apparitions.”

“Didn’t you think to tell me that part before I bought the place?” I shot an emphatic gander of frustration and shock at my nana for her borderline treachery. Exhaustion had made me irritable.

Upon finishing her coffee, my mother placed the cup and saucer in the sink. “I don’t believe in all that hooey phooey. Hiram waited the necessary time to declare her legally dead, then he remarried. For all intents and purposes, Prudence is long gone. You shouldn’t worry.”

“But you think she’s haunting me because I bought her house?” I growled at Nana D.

“I assume Hiram got away with killing her. Prudence’s spirit must be restless, stuck inside the last place she lived before dying so dreadfully. I doubt she’ll hurt you,” Nana D suggested impishly while patting my hand. “Just be considerate of sharing her space, and I’m sure it’ll turn out fine.”

My mother tut-tutted. “Hiram can be ruthless, but no one suspects the judge of murder.”

Were they for real? At the very least, I deserved to know this tidbit of history before Nana D had convinced me to buy the place. My mind theorized outlandish scenarios about what could’ve happened to Prudence Grey. I’d been known to investigate suspicious deaths ever since moving home to Braxton earlier that year, but I had zero time to explore a fifty-year-old cold case.

“How’d the Fall Festival meeting go?” Nana D interrupted, her brow wrinkled and mouth hanging slightly open, ardently waiting for a response.

“Belinda Grey was obstinate and ferocious. I think you underestimated how angry she’d be when you declared us the head of the planning committee.” My mother ruffled through her gargantuan purse for the car keys. Did she hide an entire cornucopia of useless clutter in there?

“Belinda was derogatory all morning long.” I recalled how Hiram Grey’s second wife had also refused to congratulate us on securing Madam Zenya as the upcoming spectacular’s resident psychic.

“Hiram and Belinda Grey were perfect for each other. I could tell you stories about that churlish woman. Too bad that cantankerous old judge feels the need to find a new spouse every few years. Five sons with six wives makes him a menace to society.” Nana D reminded us that our local magistrate was a modern-day Henry VIII, only instead of beheading his wives, he compelled them to disappear. “Some were probably murdered like Prudence. He tortured the others until each caved in to escape his tyranny.” She chuckled aloud, then lifted her old-fashioned, canary-yellow phone from the wall.

“He just divorced number six last year, right?” my mother nonchalantly questioned.

Nana D counted the judge’s wives by using the fingers on one hand, running out digits after the fifth. “Yup. They seem to get younger each time. Now, skedaddle. I’ve got calls to make.”

Once my mother left, Emma, Baxter, and I visited our new house. Although it was the weekend, Nicky had paid his team overtime to tile the bathroom and install the kitchen plumbing. I parked the car and suggested Emma lead Baxter into the enclosed side yard to play fetch. A bulky, hairy spider had woven a fresh maze of silky webs across the front porch, swaying in the gentle breeze from my hasty approach. It cautiously sat in the center and bundled its most recent prey in a sticky clump of white threads, staring and mocking me to swat it, if I dared. As soon as I ducked and strode through the door, Nicky anxiously approached me with his grease-stained palm glued to his forehead.

“Kellan, I’ve called for hours. Didn’t you get my messages?” Exasperation clung to the young contractor’s words. His awkward body language denoted something disastrous had occurred.

Grabbing the phone from my pocket, I realized I had accidentally turned it off. “No, I’m sorry. What’s going on? Is there an issue with construction?”

Nicky repeatedly shook his head and pursed his tense, thin lips. “No, you better see this for yourself. Follow me.”