Haunted Real Estate: Where's Gary?: Haunted Real Estate, #1

By J.C. Valentine

When a distant relative dies, Claire Montgomery inherits an ages old house with a storied past. Intending to flip it for profit, she travels to a quaint burrow in the middle of nowhere, and becomes the talk of the town. Or maybe it has more to do with the house that everyone claims is haunted by a history that's even more mysterious than Claire could ever imagine. Can she finish the renovations and get out of Dodge before the quest for a profit kills her?

• Language: English
• Publisher: J.C. Valentine
• Release date: Oct 26, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201432331

Book preview

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

It’s been a crazy time the last two years, and this is the first book I’ve written in far too long as a result. My editor and friend got sick and is still recovering, relationships have changed and evolved, but what hasn’t changed is my circle of support. I’d like to thank all of my family and friends who have been besides me through everything, supporting me through the hard times and offering their encouragement—you know who you are! I couldn’t have made it through any of this without you.

CHAPTER 1

Corn. So much I almost expected a handful of blond children to step out from the tall stalks like something out of a Stephen King novel. Thankfully, that fun little daydream had been left behind a couple hundred miles back.

I’d decided to take the scenic route into Pennsylvania, preferring the quiet path following the lake packed full of...well, cows and pasture and rolling hills and, of course, corn. Still, it’s far better than the endless miles of asphalt highway that had a tendency to put me to sleep.

Traveling from my hometown in Ohio, it took a little over four hours for me to reach the burrow. The wooden homes were fabulous specters of history, giving me a sense of time stood still. I felt as if I could reach out and touch the past, with the narrow roads that wound around and through, lined with homes and professional buildings, hand-painted signs guiding the way. Everything was so close in the central part of town that there’s no need for a car, which explained why everyone was walking.

I smiled at a passerby as I coasted along, and the woman walking her little blonde Yorkshire waved and smiled back.

Yeah, this was going to be an awesome experience.

The house I was headed toward was an inheritance from an aunt I didn’t recall ever meeting but apparently knew me from early on in my life. She had no living relatives, including my mother, her sister, who passed away five years ago in her sleep from pneumonia of all things.

I was told the house needed a bit of updating, but was otherwise ready for resale. Since I didn’t intend to relocate to the great state of Pennsylvania anytime soon, I was only in town long enough to see to it those changes got made before listing it with the local real estate company.

If I could unload it fast, I stood to make a quick buck that would finally get me to the Florida coast where I intended to swim with the dolphins and soak up the sun and maybe buy a condo and start a new life in paradise.

Well, at least I could accomplish part of that dream. The other part may have to wait until I reached retirement.

As I approached a four-way stop at the bottom of two hills, one to my left and one straight ahead, a horse-drawn buggy driven by a bearded man wearing a blue shirt and black pants held up by customary suspenders pulled out and took the road straight ahead. Of course. I would get caught behind the slowest moving vehicle known to mankind.

My steady twenty-five mile an hour pace was quickly reduced to fifteen, and I fought the long-suffering sigh that sat like a stone in my throat. At the rate we’re going, I may have to call ahead and tell the agent to leave the keys in the mailbox.

In the time it took God to create the universe, we passed a cow farm and a tobacco plantation and a sign boasting cave tours, as well as a sprinkling of well-maintained homes on sprawling acres of green pasture, before my quaint friend took a turn onto a dirt road and I returned to my normal pace, which now felt dangerously close to speeding.

When I pulled onto the narrow lane marked by a single dangling mailbox that would certainly have to be replaced, I was grateful to see the little red Toyota that must belong to the agent. Good, she waited.

Sorry I’m late, I called out the moment I stepped out of my car. Traffic was...slow.

The agent who would be responsible for putting the house on the market was shorter than I’d expected. Her voice on the phone, loud and filled with confidence, gave me the impression of someone tall and broad-shouldered, someone who screamed take charge. But as soon as the tiny brunette opened her mouth, any prior assumptions were immediately dispelled.

Hi, Claire. I’m Hollie. We spoke on the phone earlier. I hope the drive was good?

It certainly wasn’t terrible.

Good. She beamed. I took the liberty of opening a few windows to air the place out a bit. And I’ve already started the paperwork on the listing, assuming some of the changes that you’ll be making. I think you’ll find that it’ll sell well. There aren’t any real comparables in the area, but we do have investors who have expressed interest, so I think we’ll be able to command top dollar. You know, assuming—

The changes I’ll be making, I finished with a nod.

I squinted up at the house, which had seen better days. Wow, I didn’t realize it would need so much work.

The house was an old Victorian, with several gables and windows on windows on windows, and a wraparound porch. All of it was weathered and in need of attention. At first glance, I didn’t see much to salvage, and the air was let out of my sails as I considered how much money would have to go into the place in order to make it livable, let alone sellable.

Now I know what you’re thinking.

It would be better to burn it down and collect the insurance?

Hollie smirked. It’s a mess, but with a little TLC and some elbow grease—

And a million dollars...

—it’ll be good as new! Here are the keys. She held them out and, with dread, I accepted. I heard you’d booked a room at the B&B in town. Once you get settled and develop a game plan, you’ll feel better about all of this. Let me know if you need any help with anything. With a wave, she began walking toward her car. Oh, and I’ll forward the number for the contractor when I get back to the office.

I was left standing in the middle of the driveway, staring at brake lights as she faded into the distance. In my hand were two keys, one for a standard lock and the other a darkened-with-time skeleton key that gave me an uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach.

I turned and stared up at the place that was likely going to bankrupt me and sighed. I would have to cancel my reservations in town and save every I penny possible to pour into this dump if I hoped to make any profit whatsoever. Why couldn’t you have been born into one of those rich families, I muttered as I stepped onto the rotting porch and treaded lightly, hoping that nothing gave way as I set out to inspect my new investment.

As I jiggled the copper key in the lock, I had to admit, close up, the house wasn’t completely unfortunate. The heavy wooden door held stained glass, rectangular panels that would be amazing when the sunlight came through them, and the hardware was heavy, metal, and ornate. The architectural details continued around every window as well, but aside from that, the dollar signs were adding up in my mind. There was a lot of decayed wood, graying and splintered, and peeling paint everywhere. And that was just the outside.

Prying the lock open, I made a mental note to purchase some WD-40 and pushed the door open. Well, tried to, anyway. It was heavier than expected, forcing me to lean into it, but it only opened a foot before I hit a wall. Or at least what felt like one.

What the...? I scowled, sticking my head inside the slim opening to see what was in the way. What I found made me curse. Oh, for heaven’s sake! I slammed my shoulder into the wood several times, forcing the gap large enough to squeeze through.

Behind the door, the original wooden floors were heaved up reminiscent of the hilly landscape outside, likely due to severe water damage. With a huff of annoyance, I pulled out my phone and started a list of tasks that would have to be addressed, starting with ripping up the floors immediately.

The list grew quickly. With each room I entered, I spotted more that needed to be done. Windows, crumbling plaster walls, cracked tiles around several hearths, a total gut job on the kitchens and bathrooms, and I figured all of the plumbing and electrical would probably need to be addressed too.

Thanks, Aunt Edna, for the money pit.

Entering the final bedroom, the largest of four, I watched my step as I crossed to the windows that made up the turret I’d spotted on my drive up. It wasn’t an ocean view, but it was tremendous nonetheless. Seeing out across the rolling hills and valleys set aglow in the failing sunlight gave me a sense of peace and tranquility I rarely experienced living in the city. For a moment, I allowed the silence of the countryside to set in, and I drew a deep breath, ignoring the musty scent of the aging wood, dust, and water damage. I could almost imagine what it must have been like when this old house had been a home.

It must have been something...

A creak behind me caught my attention, and my heart hammered in my chest as I whirled around in search of its source.

There was no one here but me.  

Right?

Slowly, I crept back through the room, fearing making any unwanted noise, in case of an intruder. Then I heard it again. The creak. This time, I could tell it was coming from inside the room...with me...to my immediate left. I turned my attention there, seeing an old, built-in closet with four drawers at the bottom and twin cabinet doors above, all painted the same shade of aged off-white as the baseboards and trim.

My breathing grew erratic as I approached, my chest tightening with anticipation of what I might find. Of course, because it was an old house an unfamiliar territory, my immediate imaginings were of the ghostly variety.

Stop being a ninny, Claire. There’s nothing here but you. It’s probably just the wind. Old homes were drafty, and if they used old horsehair plaster instead of actual insulation, it was highly probable that the walls were just as bad as the windows and doors.

Deciding that’s exactly what this was, I reached out with a shaking hand and forced myself to grab hold of the old wooden knob. I swear, if there’s a ghost in here, I’m going to kill you, Aunt Edna.

Taking a deep, bracing breath, I gave a small tug and the door eked open with a faint moan, and then...

Eyes. In the split second that it took me to register what I was seeing, a big, black blur burst from inside and streaked past my face and across my shoulder. I felt the tearing, searing pain like a flash of fire across my skin and let out a blood curdling scream of terror as I spun to face my assailant, the one responsible for my current stroke, as well as a certain heart attack fast on its heels.

Clutching my fist to the center of my chest, my scream slowly died in a stair-step that began at a soprano and finished at a weak alto.

And then I began to laugh.

There, in the middle of the room, stood an overlarge black cat, it’s glowing golden eyes staring back at me as if to say, What are you doing on my turf, lady?

I couldn’t believe it. I’d almost died at the hands of a feline burglar.

You mangy cat! Shoo! Shoo! Maybe the lunging and hand waving was a bit over the top, but I was still trying to shake the willies, and lashing out at the little critter helped tremendously.

The cat just stared at me as if I were a dope, and then, with all the grace and dignity of one without a care in the world, it rose up and trotted away, it’s pendulous belly swaying and it’s thick tail held high to put its rear prominently on display.  

I shook my head. "Sassy. I bet that’s what your name is, isn’t it? Well, you’ve been