Headlines And Hauntings: Lainey Boggins Mysteries, #3

By Nikolett Strachan

Everyone know ghosts don't exist. Or do they?

 

When TV ghost hunters, the Specter Inspectors, show up in Aurora Heights to investigate the town's most haunted house, Lainey thinks she's found the perfect story—prove to everyone the show is fake. But when the star of the show dies during the investigation, Lainey realizes it wasn't just ghosts that were fake on the show. The cast and the crew all had a reason for wanting him dead.

 

Now, Lainey must find the secrets hidden in Cedar Hill House to prove what really happened. Because ghosts aren't real. Right?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Nikolett Strachan
• Release date: Nov 11, 2022
• ISBN: 9781999159498

Book preview

Chapter one

Anticipation buzzed just below the surface of skin. My hands trembled, so I picked up the pen beside my notepad on the table and began fidgeting with it. Yawns and halfhearted good mornings drifted into the tiny meeting room of the Aurora Heights Chronicle as the other reporters found their spots. I had come early to prepare my pitch for Monday Morning Madness, the meeting where we pitched stories to Bob, our editor in chief. He normally stuck me with some fluff story about a charity event, or a human interest story that, quite frankly, wasn’t all that interesting.

Today, I had something else up my sleeve. It was blend of mystery and investigation that would be the perfect story for the Aurora Heights Chronicle. With my track record of solving murders, Bob was starting to slowly—oh so slowly—take me seriously. It was time to make my mark, and I was convinced that my story would do just that.

Morning, Lainey. You catch the big game last night? Tom, the Chronicle’s sports reporter, plunked himself into the chair beside me.

Tom, if you’ve seen Lainey play sports you would know better than to ask that question, Vinny, our layout guy, chuckled at his own joke.

I stuck my tongue out at him in response. That’s not fair. I did that charity run this summer. I’m plenty athletic. But no, I didn’t catch the game. I was talking to my grandmother all night.

How is old Gertie? Tom asked. My grandmother was a staple in Aurora Heights. She knew everyone and everyone knew and loved her. When she announced that she would spend three weeks in Spain visiting my mom, the town threw a going away party in her honor. At the time, I thought it was silly because she was coming back. But after two months, I wasn’t sure I would ever see her again.

She’s extended her trip again. She met some guy and wants to see where it goes. We had a very extensive chat about it last night. I was hesitant to let her stay, but there wasn’t much I could do that didn’t involve me getting on a plane and bringing her back. Besides, she was with my mom, so she was safe. I hoped that my mom had at least vetted this new man in her life. Then again, my mom did run away with Armando after knowing him for two weeks, so she didn’t have the best judgment. But as long as my grandmother was happy, I could be happy for her.

Good for her, Tom said with surprise in his voice. And didn’t your mom run away with a Spanish man too?

No, she didn’t run away. I know exactly where she is. I let out a sigh of defeat. But yeah, she did. Thanks for reminding me.

I loved my mom, and even though I didn’t really know Armando well, I knew that he made her happy. But I missed my mom, and now with my grandmother gone the house I had grown up in felt a little bigger, and not in a good way.

You Boggins women sure have a type, Vinny chimed in.

What’s that supposed to mean? Last time I checked, I was very, very single. And unless Grandma’s new boyfriend was a charmer with secrets in his closet like my ex-boyfriends Ben, and James, we did not have a type.

Isn’t detective DeLuca Spanish? Vinny asked.

No, he’s Italian, Liam, our intern-turned-junior reporter added as he found a chair beside Vinny. DeLuca is definitely an Italian name.

Larry, our senior reporter, had made his way in, sat at the table, and had the good sense to look utterly uninterested.

Spain and Italy are pretty close on the map, Vinny replied with a shrug.

DeLuca and I aren’t a thing. Where did this come from? Horror wasn’t even the right word to describe the twisty feeling in my gut. Detective Nick DeLuca and I were friends. Sort of. Our relationship had gone from icy to cordial after I’d helped solve two murders. We now said hi to each other on the street as we passed by each other, but that was hardly grounds for spreading dating rumors.

My wife swears that you two are a thing and are keeping it a secret, Vinny said.

No! We’re definitely not a thing! My skin prickled with heat. I suddenly wished very much to disappear.

My wife has fifty bucks on you two getting together by Valentine’s Day, so I’d appreciate it if you could hold out until then, Tom said with a sly grin.

You have a pool on this? I couldn’t believe this. I prayed for the earth to open up and swallow me whole.

All right everyone, let’s get this meeting going. Bob Starsman’s voice bellowed into the tiny meeting room before his body lumbered in. It wasn’t quite the earth swallowing me up, but it was close enough. Bob was a big man with a giant mustache and bushy eyebrows that made him look perpetually grumpy. Which we was. He squeezed himself into a tiny chair at the head of the table as we settled in. I’d have to address these DeLuca rumors later.

Let’s start with pitches. Anyone have—

I have a story! My hand shot into the air, my elbow making contact with Vinny’s shoulder accidentally. He flinched as he let out a small yelp that I ignored.

Okay, let’s hear it. Bob folded his thick arms over his barrel body and leaned back in his chair, taking up even more space in the tiny office.

I was at the Cozy Cat yesterday when I saw a very peculiar van with a giant logo drive by, I began.

What logo? Liam perked up, but he was the only one.

The Specter Inspectors, I replied.

Liam’s jaw practically hit the desk as his eyes doubled in size. No way! I love that show!

My wife is crazy about it too, Tom said. She makes me sit through it every Sunday night. I wonder why they’re in town.

They’re investigating Cedar Hill House, obviously, I said.

Cedar Hill House was Aurora Heights’ most haunted house. Apparently. But it was my mission to convince this town once and for all that Cedar Hill House was nothing but a creepy old building that really should’ve been torn down by now. It was owned by the Historical Society and was kept as a sort of mausoleum of days gone by. There were talks about turning it into an actual museum, but the Historical Society didn’t have the money to restore it to something more habitable. The place creaked and groaned, probably wanting to be put out of its misery. Rumors claimed it was haunted, which was obviously ridiculous because ghosts didn’t exist.

Obviously? Bob’s bushy eyebrows shot up into his salt and pepper hairline.

Well, I got curious, so I followed the van. I saw them head toward the estate.

So, you want to interview a bunch of ghost hunters? Bob asked. He scrunched his face like he was smelling something bad.

No, not just interview. I want to investigate them and prove they’re fake. The words weren’t quite what I’d rehearsed, but I’d made my case.

No way! Liam shot me a look of disbelief. They’re not fake. It’s the only ghost hunting show that isn’t.

Well, I don’t believe that’s true, I shot at him. There’s no such thing as ghosts. I know it. They know it. And I want to prove it.

As Liam, Tom, Vinny, and I argued about the merits of the Specter Inspectors and whether ghosts were real or not, Bob sat there mulling things over. Finally, he raised his hand and we all stopped arguing.

Okay, okay, I’ve heard enough. It’s not a bad idea, Lainey. I was going to have you go down to the courthouse and cover that beat this week, but if this is what you want, then go for it.

Darn! I’d been begging Bob for a chance at the courthouse all week. I’d given up hope when that van came waltzing down Main, right past the coffee shop.

Really? My voice was a squeak in the room. Honestly, I thought this pitch was going to be a long shot. I knew that Bob didn’t care much for local legends and hearsay. Still, Cedar Hill House was an important part of Aurora Heights’ community.

According to the Historical Society, the place was one of the first houses ever built. Some say that it actually was the first house ever built and owned by the town’s founder, Abraham Aurora. My best friend Dylan’s grandmother insisted otherwise. She claimed that it used to belong to her family, though there were no records of a Sawyer ever owning it. But one thing that no one disputed was that there was definitely at least one death in the house.

Locals called her Misty Mary because she died on a cool evening when the mist from the nearby mountainside drifted over the town. Legend had it that she’d discovered her groom, Jethro Miller, with another woman the night before their wedding. Driven to madness by heartbreak, she jumped from the attic window of the old Victorian home. Someone really should’ve told her that she dodged a bullet when she caught the cheater red-handed and wasn’t worth jumping out of a window over.

These days, high schoolers and adults who believed in fairy tales flocked to the abandoned house on misty mornings to try to get a glimpse of her. Some have claimed to have seen the outline of a woman in the attic window. Others have heard voices and footsteps when they claimed no one else in the house. Even I went to the house once with my high school friends looking for her, but all we found were cobwebs and dusty furniture. No voices or weird footsteps. No woman in the window.

What does it matter? Tom asked. It’s just a silly legend. Who cares if Misty Mary exists or not?

Misty Mary isn’t the problem, I replied. It’s the Specter Inspectors. They’re not real, and I hate people being lied to. I turned to Bob. I want to go with them as they explore Cedar Hill House and do a story exposing them for fakes.

They’re not fakes, Liam insisted again, but I waved his words away.

I’ve already talked to the producer about going on with them as they film, and she’s totally okay with it. Of course, I didn’t tell the producer about my true intentions for the story. So, you mean it? I get the green light?

All right, do the ghost story. Larry will take the court beat again… Bob grumbled more assignments, which I didn’t listen to because I was too busy celebrating in my head. Bob had actually gone for one of my pitches. And those ghost hunters were going down.

Chapter two

The winter air was an icy nip against my skin as I stepped out of the office of the Aurora Heights Chronicle. Thankfully, my car was in working order again because of Melissa O’Hara, the new chief of police. She had the station reimburse me for new tires after the old police chief slashed them. Just in time too, because winter in Aurora Heights was not optimal biking weather. Every peddle in the harsh February wind was torture, and riding on the icy streets could’ve been my cause of death.

I headed for the Cozy Cat Café for coffee. I would need the caffeine tonight for the ghost hunt. I’d spoken to the show’s producer Jenny, and it sounded like we were going to be filming all night. I hadn’t pulled an all-nighter since college, and I wasn’t confident that my now thirty-year-old self could pull it off. Jenny seemed excited after I’d arranged the whole thing, and I almost felt bad about the article I planned to write. Almost.

The café always had a steady hum of customers because Dylan was amazing at making coffee. Even though it was close to closing time, tables and booths were still peppered with customers happily chatting and enjoying their drinks. It was only when I stepped further into the place that I saw a monstrous glass compartment in far corner. Fur Ball sat inside the glass cage under a cat tree giving everyone a death glare.

What’s this? I asked no one in particular as I made my way toward the compartment. Fur Ball glared at me as if this whole thing was my fault. He was technically Dylan’s cat, but because of April’s allergies, he now lived with me, so I was used to dealing with his dissatisfaction. I dropped him off at the café every morning so Dylan could spend time with him. So technically, this was Dylan’s fault, but Fur Ball didn’t really care about details like that.

We have a new health inspector in town, Dylan said as he made his way to me. He said I would have to get this thing for the cats, or he would shut me down for health code violations.

That’s unfortunate.

I’m glad for it, April said as she made her way toward us. I can actually spend some time in here without my allergies killing me.

Dylan and April began dating nearly a year ago, when my crush on Dylan was in full swing. Now, I couldn’t believe how silly I had been. Dylan and April were the cutest couple in town. Both of them were picture-perfect, and their love for each other was so sweet it bordered on sickly. They were my two best friends, and I was happy for them.

But seeing them together made me wish that I wouldn’t be going home to an empty house. Fur Ball was great company, but I would’ve liked a human to talk to and cuddle up with at night.

Well, this glass cage is probably for the best. Even if Fur Ball looks like he’s about to burn it down, I said. I felt Fur Ball’s eyes burning into me, though it could’ve been because it was time for his medicine.

Judging by that look on his face, he just might. Remind me to hide the matches, Dylan added. He opened the glass door of the cage and stepped inside. He knelt down and reached for the cat, trying to coax him out from under the tree. Come on, buddy. Time for your medicine.

Last week, Fur Ball got into my garbage and claimed an old corn cob as his own. I managed to wrestle it from him, but he had already eaten part of it, which ruptured his stomach. I spent the night with Dylan and April at the vet, praying that he made it through emergency surgery. Fur Ball is a fighter, but that didn’t stop the vet from prescribing some serious pain killers.

Hold still. Dylan drew up the medicine in a plastic syringe and drew the cat into his lap. He opened Fur Ball’s mouth by sticking the syringe between his teeth, then squirting the medicine into him. Dylan had mastered the technique perfectly, but when I tried, it was a fight to the death every time.

Fur Ball