It’s one thing to see these inanimate faces from afar, but to see them up close is both jarring and frightful. Some dolls have long, elaborate curls, while some are shorn to the quick. Some faces are pristine and beautiful, while others have dark circles under their eyes, pale clay faces, broken noses, and significant skull fractures. And yet, there are just as many rag dolls as there are otherwise, even a few Raggedy Ann and Andy dolls, which I happen to be a very big fan of. In fact, I’ve still got a small one sitting on my dresser back in my cottage. My grandmother gave it to me, and I’ve kept it in view ever since just to remind me of her.
“I think I’m going to need that tequila,” I say as Macy links her arm to mine and pulls me in close.
“Don’t worry, Bizzy. Once the spirits decide to burn down this entire inn, I’ll have a bottle delivered to your room at the insane asylum.”
“You’re not funny,” I say.
“I’m not trying to be.”
We walk along from table to table and, interestingly enough, each doll has a name plate and a brief history provided.
“Look at that,” Macy muses. “These dolls are ancient. Doesn’t Georgie know that ancient artifacts haul evil curses around with them? You’d better thank your unlucky stars she didn’t land a mummy in the middle of the room.”
Just then a tornado of a body waves and jumps as she runs right up to us.
It’s Georgie Conner herself clad in a pumpkin orange kaftan, her hair a touch more unruly than it usually is.
“Great news, Bizzy! Freddie says we can have the mummy, too! It’s being delivered this afternoon, and we’re going to put it smack-dab in the middle of the room. Of course, the prices will have to go up for the exhibit. I’m thinking twenty bucks a pop. Don’t worry, Bizzy. I’ll send them all to the café once they’re through here. Don’t think for a minute I didn’t learn a thing or two from our friends in Honey Hollow.”
My mouth opens, but not a word comes out as I give pause to my thought.
My transmundane friend out in Honey Hollow, Lottie Lemon—well, her mother owns and runs a haunted B&B where she offers tours for eighty dollars a head of her spooktacular abode. Then when she’s through with the people, she sends them all to Lottie’s bakery for what she calls The Last Thing They Ate Tour. It seems Lottie has the same knack for stumbling upon bodies that I do. Only with Lottie, one of her desserts always seems to turn up at the scene of the crime. It’s a wonder she hasn’t been arrested yet.
Heck, it’s a wonder I haven’t been arrested yet.
“Don’t worry about sending the guests to the café,” I tell her.
Macy groans. “Don’t you listen to her, Georgie. You send them to the café, and then you make sure they head to the Lather and Light right afterwards, too. I’m running a buy one-get one special on all fall scented boo-ble baths. You should both come by. The pumpkin pie and apple cider scents are to die for.” She belts out a maniacal laugh, and Georgie snaps her fingers.
“That’s exactly what this place is missing.” Georgie slaps my sister on the back. “A little mood music. I’ll ask Jordy to hook me up with those haunted beats he had playing at the frightmare. And don’t you worry, Bizzy. I talked to Leo this morning, and he said we can start up again as soon as tonight as long as we keep that area off-limits.”
“What? No,” I say just as Juni and a dark-haired man clad in black join us. He’s tall, thin, about thirty, has dark amber eyes that glint red in the light, and he’s wearing an eerie grin reminiscent of one of these creepy dolls.
“I found him, Mama.” Juni smacks the man on the stomach. “And he’s ready to meet our demands.”
Macy gurgles out a dark laugh, and judging by the glazed look in her eyes, she likes what she sees. “Never mind meeting their demands. I think you’ll be much more interested in mine.” She holds out her hand and he shakes it. “Macy Baker, psychic extraordinaire. I can see the future—and yours just so happens to be with me. At least it is tonight. Please tell me you’re free for dinner.”
Macy is no psychic, but she’s a maneater, and she’s apparently very hungry today.
His dark, pointed brows hike a notch, but his lids hood, giving the answer for him before his lips could get there.
His lips flicker. “Only if you allow me to pick up the tab.”
Georgie grunts, “All right, you two, cool it before I tell Annabeth to go fetch me a cup of water to dump over your heads. Bizzy, Macy, this is my good friend, Freddie Dodd. He’s the curator over at Madame Tarantula’s Museum of the Odd and Curious down in Ellsworth. He’s the one I bribed to let me have the haunted doll collection for the entire month of October.”
“Just the last thirteen days.” He winks over at Macy. “And I don’t accept bribes.”
“Fine.” Georgie shrugs. “All I had to do was flash my boobs. I’m telling you, Bizzy. They’ve been hermetically sealed for so long I’ve still got a set to impress.” She smacks Freddie on the arm. “Tell it like it is, kid.”
“Truer words were never spoken.” He chuckles. “But all you would have had to do is ask. I would do anything for you, Georgie.”
Macy bounces her shoulders his way. “How about me? Would you do anything for me, Freddie boy?”
A dark laugh strums from him as he stares right into my sister’s baby blue eyes.
“I’m no boy,” he warns her. “I’m all man. But I suppose a woman as beautiful as you demands actions, not words.”
“Be at the Lather and Light on Main Street at seven
