Haunted House For Sale: Paranormal Mystery Novella
By Jane Monson
4/5
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About this ebook
Catherine, a realtor, doesn't know she can see ghosts. She doesn't even believe in ghosts—until the day she shows a haunted house. Worse, she shows it to her friend Lori, who doesn't sense any ghost. What she senses is a deal, and she wants to buy the house.
Catherine does everything she can to discourage her. But even when Catherine finds out the house was the scene of a murder not long ago, Lori doesn't care, unless that means she can get an even better price.
Every time Catherine goes to the house, the ghost begs her help, till she's drawn into investigating its murder. Catherine doesn't see how ghosts can do anything other than scare you but in case they can be dangerous, she wants the ghost at rest before Lori moves in.
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Haunted House For Sale - Jane Monson
Haunted House for Sale
Jane Monson
Copyright © Jane Monson 2013
Smashwords edition
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Haunted House for Sale
The client was already talking when Catherine reached the front door. I love this space.
She gestured with her acrylics at the big living room. There was an arched doorway in the wall between the living room and the rest of the house. Just in front of the archway, a blonde woman about Catherine’s age lay dead, apparently strangled.
Catherine screamed when she saw the dead woman. At the same time, a tiny part of her brain calmly noted that a house in this condition in this neighborhood should be priced a lot higher. At this price it should have been snapped right up already. So this body might explain, at least partly, why it was still available. The house smelled awful, too, all damp and clammy, like it had a bad foundation.
While Catherine was screaming—a high sustained wail like a siren—she also realized her client hadn’t said anything, and was staring at Catherine as though Catherine were the problem here. Catherine instantly stopped screaming, because she liked Lori, and obviously the two of them were having totally different experiences, and a sale was a sale. Huge spider! Ran up my leg,
she said in a choked, hysterical voice and ran into the bathroom off the foyer. She hoped Lori believed the spider story, because she didn’t want Lori to think she was a flibbertigibbet. When she turned to shut the door, she saw Lori walking eagerly toward whatever lay beyond the archway. Lori walked right through the body like it was a hologram.
What the what? Catherine sat on the closed toilet lid. American Standard fixtures, she noted absently. Lori hadn’t appeared to see anything out of place, and Lori was a good client who’d buy a house from Catherine sooner or later. They’d known each other in college, and then run into one another again about a year ago.
If you worked on commission, you had to suck up a lot. Catherine did suck up a lot. She ignored all kinds of things, and smiled right through all of them. Other people’s husbands grabbing her ass, renos that were frankly hideous, children’s sticky fingers on walls. She could ignore a murdered woman’s ghost corpse as long as Lori did.
Catherine was pretty sure now what she’d seen couldn’t have been a body. It must have been some kind of reflection of something, plus a suddenly morbid imagination. Was there a stained glass panel in a window to cast patterns of color and light on the floor? She stood up. She was wearing high heels—she always wore high heels—and a close-fitting grey tweed skirt. She straightened her skirt, checked her teeth in the mirror, opened the door, and walked out of the bathroom.
Lori was calling something from the master bedroom, and the body was still in front of the archway. Catherine decided to act like nothing was wrong. Ignore the body and go join Lori in the master bedroom. She’d have to walk close to the body when she passed it. She didn’t feel right about walking right through it the way Lori had. She approached it carefully and skirted close to the wall of the archway.
Just as she passed, the murdered woman stood up and said, You can see me, can’t you?
Catherine would have screamed again, even louder, but she found she couldn’t say anything but uhhh. So she said that. It was like the kind of nightmare where you find yourself paralyzed, trying to make a noise and wake up.
I know you can see me. You look scared, because I’m dead, right?
Did that mean she wasn’t even sure she was dead, or she wasn’t sure Catherine knew? "I look all dead, don’t I?"
She did look all dead. It seemed she’d been around Catherine’s age when she died. Catherine couldn’t be sure, because she had to judge by what she saw from the neck down. The victim’s face was bloated and bruised, her eyes bulging and filled with red starbursts of broken blood vessels. Her neck was all... There was something around her neck, maybe. Catherine couldn’t stand to look directly at her for more than a glance or two; it was too horrible and creepy. It was bad enough to see her dead like that, but dead like that, and standing up and talking—it gave Catherine cold shivers, like ice-water dripping down the back of her neck.
You have to help me. Nobody else can even see me.
Catherine didn’t want to help her. Catherine wanted to get away from her. She’d never show this house again to anybody; that was for sure.
Catherine almost ran through the archway and down the short hall to the master bedroom. Lori said, "There you are. I hate this