The Ghastly Ghost of Hillbilly Hollow (Ozark Ghost Hunter Mysteries Book 2) Read online

  As I stood, looking over the piece, someone I had yet to run into since I’d been back in town was suddenly standing beside me.

  “Well, if it isn’t little Emma Hooper,” the tall, perfectly coiffured blonde said from behind oversized black sunglasses.

  “Hello, Lisa,” I replied, trying to hold back the venom in my voice. All through school, Lisa Teller, now Lisa Teller-Parks, had always seemed to get the better of me. She ended up marrying Jason Parks, local realtor, but I’d heard that they had recently gotten divorced.

  She and I ended up in competition for everything. From class secretary to cheerleading – whatever I went out for, she did too, and she usually beat me. Things got really bad between us our senior year of high school. She had developed a crush on Billy, and everyone knew we were close. Apparently she was flirting with Billy, who wasn’t interested, and when he rejected her, she started a hurtful rumor about us. She had told everyone in school that Billy’s parents were broke, and weren’t telling him, but were about to lose their house. She said that was why we were close, Broke Billy and Little Orphan Emma. Even though none of it was true, and we’d all grown up, seeing her made my blood boil.

  “I see you’re looking at the Campbell banner. Looks like you finally developed decent taste after all these years. I mean, you wouldn’t know it looking at your clothes.” She smirked.

  “You know, I hear you’ve made Jason a very happy man.” I smiled at her.

  “We’re…divorced, actually,” she replied, lifting her nose in the air.

  “I know. That’s what I meant. Enjoy the auction!” I giggled as I walked off to take my spot.

  I didn’t win the first banner I bid on. It was a pretty garden scene with hydrangeas all over it. Prudence Huffler was bidding on it, and I didn’t have the heart to outbid her after all she’d been through with losing Preacher Jacob just a few months before. I couldn’t say that Prudence looked happy, exactly, but she definitely looked better than she had during her darkest days.

  The abstract banner came up, and Lisa immediately bid.

  “Fifteen,” she said, holding up her paddle nonchalantly.

  Someone off to the side offered twenty.

  “Twenty-five,” I countered.

  “Thirty,” Lisa said.

  “Thirty-five,” I replied. Most of the banners had gone for between twenty and fifty dollars, so the auctioneer, Mayor Bigsby himself, was growing excited.

  “Forty-five!” Lisa said authoritatively.

  “Fifty!” I countered.

  Another hand went up somewhere in the crowd, and Mayor Bigsby pointed, yelling, “Sixty,” but never took his eyes off of Lisa and me. He had spent enough time at auctions to know a bidding war when he saw one.

  “Seventy-five dollars!” Lisa shouted, holding her paddle high. The crowd grew quiet.

  I chuckled. “One hundred dollars!” I replied. There was an audible gasp.

  Mayor Bigsby looked at Lisa, who shook her head back and forth.

  “Sold, to Emma Hooper for one hundred dollars! Emma, thank you for being such a generous supporter of the Historical Society!” Mayor Bigsby said.

  I smiled and nodded graciously. Well, crap! I thought, that wasn’t even the banner I wanted, and I sure didn’t mean to pay a hundred bucks for it! I just hadn’t wanted to see Lisa win.

  I paid for my purchase and headed back toward the main entrance. The banner was more expensive than I had intended, but it was a pretty color combination, and would look nice hanging on our front porch. Besides, the money did go to a good cause and Grandma would just be happy to have a piece of artwork of her very own.

  As I started walking back to the truck with my purchase, Jerry Langston, the local veterinarian, chased me down. “Emma! Emma!” he said, as he jogged up to meet me.

  “Hi, Dr. Langston. Everything okay?” I asked.

  “Yes, yes!” he snapped impatiently. “I need that banner.” He dug into his pocket and retrieved his wallet, opening it and digging through the cash inside. “How much did you pay for it?” he asked.

  “Excuse me?” I asked incredulously.

  “You heard me. How much did you pay for it?” He pulled a few twenties from the wallet.

  “Dr. Langston, this is mine, I…” I started to protest, and he cut me off.

  “Hmpf! Alright, then! I’ll give you twenty over the asking price and not a penny more! Here!” He shoved a handful of bills at me, and went to grab the banner.

  I was incensed! The banner was hideous, true enough, but the colors were nice, and there was something strangely familiar about it. Almost comforting in a way I couldn’t explain. It was for my grandma, and there was no way I was going to let someone take it from me.

  “No, sir!” I pushed back on his fistful of cash. “This is for my grandma, and I’m taking it home to her now. Good day, Dr. Langston.”

  I pushed past him and headed toward my truck. I could’ve sworn I heard an almost growling sound as I walked away.

  As I drove home, I couldn’t help but wonder again about the robbery that was the talk of the town. Hillbilly Hollow wasn’t that close to the interstate. It was the type of place you had to make an effort to come visit. I couldn’t believe some random criminal would go out of their way to come to our little town to rob a gas station. At the same time, if it wasn’t a stranger, it had to be someone local. There were a few unsavory characters that hung out at Happy Hills, the trailer park out past the junkyard on the far outskirts of town. Still, I couldn’t imagine anyone being so brazen as to risk being seen and caught.

  I wondered if the robbery had everyone else in town on edge too. Lisa had been in rare form today, even for her. I felt a twinge of regret at making fun of her divorce, but after all, she had been really hateful to Billy and me when we were kids, so maybe she deserved it. Melody Campbell had shocked me with her rudeness too, and for no apparent reason. I should’ve probably chased her down to make her let me drive her home. She lived a good distance out at the edge of town, and she wasn’t a young woman anymore. Still, you can’t help someone who doesn’t want to be helped, I supposed.

  Dr. Langston was another piece of work. I couldn’t think why in the world he would expect me to give up the banner I had just bid to win. Of course, he clearly didn’t know how much I had overpaid for it, but still, it was rude of him to try to take it from me so forcefully.

  The Flower Festival was supposed to be a fun time – one of the best weeks to be in Hillbilly Hollow. This year felt different, though. I wasn’t sure if it was the fog of Preacher Jacob’s death a few months before, or something else, but it was as if there was something in the air in Hillbilly Hollow. Whatever it was, I didn’t like it one bit.

  Chapter 3

  When I got home, my shadow was waiting for me on the back porch.

  “Hi, Snowball,” I said as I walked around and opened the back gate of the pickup. I reached down, scratching the little goat under the chin. True, kittens were adorable and dogs were man’s best friend, but if this little nanny goat had taken it upon herself to adopt me, who was I to stop her? Besides, I’d grown attached to the silly girl. “Come on, let’s take these down to the shed.”

  I grabbed the bags from the hardware store and headed down to the equipment shed to retrieve a wheelbarrow. Snowball followed along behind me. I grabbed the green wheelbarrow, the one with the best tires, and pulled it out, parking it outside as I closed the shed doors. I turned to push it to the truck, only to find that Snowball was sitting in it.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” I asked, hands on hips. She bleated in reply. I lifted the barrel, and she cocked her head up, enjoying the view. “Now I know what Cleopatra’s litter-bearers felt like carrying her around!” I chuckled.

  I tipped the wheelbarrow up, causing Snowball to hop out, loaded the feed into it, and headed to the chicken coop. I put the feed in the bin attached to the outside of the coop and secured it closed, then returned the wheelbarrow to the shed and headed into the house feeling very accomplished.

  “Hi, Grandma,” I said, kissing her cheek as I walked in. She and Grandpa were at the kitchen table, eating lunch.

  “Emma, dear! There’s some cold chicken in the fridge, if you’re hungry,” she said, smiling up at me. Grandpa was tucking into a drumstick. I grabbed a plate and joined them.

  “Did you hear about the robbery?” I asked as I took a bite of potato salad.

  “Oh, yes!” Grandma replied. “Just terrible! I’m glad that Gentry boy wasn’t hurt. Caleb, I think his name is.”

  “Shame. Person can’t even go to the market without having to worry about some crazy person anymore,” Grandpa said, shaking his head. “Don’t know what the world’s a-comin’ to!”

  “Yeah, I ran into Mr. Jenkins – Jasper that is – in the market. He and Mr. Lowery seem to think it’s someone from outside of town – maybe just passing through,” I added.

  “Well, they’re long gone if Tucker’s on the case, that’s for sure!” Grandma chuckled.

  I decided to steer the conversation to a more upbeat topic. “So Grandpa,” I said taking a big gulp of lemonade, “Did you think any more about my proposal? About the satellite?” I asked cautiously.

  I wanted him to agree to let me get satellite service so I could have internet at the house. If I was going to stay in Hillbilly Hollow, for a while at least, I needed access to the internet so I could work. I had given up my graphic design job with a firm in New York after I’d been hit by a taxi. I came home to rest and recuperate, which Dr. Jenson, my therapist, had recommended. He was sure the spirits I was seeing were a byproduct of electrical impulses in my brain thanks to the injury I sustained. I wasn’t so sure. I could continue to pick up some graphic design work if I had reliable internet service. Otherwise, I’d have to go to the library or coffee shop in town, and rely on Wi-Fi.

  “Hmm,” Grandpa said, scratching his chin. I could hear his rough fingers drag across his stubble from not having shaved that morning. “I don’t know, Emma. Not much on all that new-fangled technology.”

  “I know, Grandpa, but just hear me out. If I get internet service, I can include all the TV channels for you and Grandma. You can watch whatever you want, anytime!” I smiled at Grandma.

  “Already got six channels. Don’t see much need for more.” He shook his head and took another bite of chicken.

  “Well,” I mustered up my best sales pitch. “Did you know that there’s a channel just dedicated to farm reports? All the commodities pricing is there, and you can get to the almanac right from the remote. There’s also a channel that plays nothing but game shows! You like those. And Grandma,” I looked at her, “there’s a channel that has old TV shows. You can watch your favorites every day, if you want!”

  “Oh, I do like that,” she replied enthusiastically.

  “Won’t cost me anything?” Grandpa asked.

  “No, Grandpa.” I was happy to foot the bill, though I was pretty sure that they had more zeroes in their bank balance than I’d ever see in my lifetime.

  “Alright then,” he replied quietly, and took a sip of lemonade.

  “Thanks, Grandpa!”

  “Suppose this means you’re sticking around a bit, then,” he said.

  “I think I am…if that’s okay with you two?” I replied hesitantly.

  “Good!” I was shocked at his enthusiastic reply. “I mean, there’s a lot of work around here. I can do it on my own just fine, but easier with one more.”

  He got up and left the table. Grandma patted me on the hand.

  Grandma had soaked some sheets and put them up in front of the windows to cool the house down. She always called it nature’s air conditioning. The breeze passing through the open windows made the water in the sheets evaporate, and cooled the house down in the heat of the afternoon.

  I remembered that I had left the banner in the cab of the truck and retrieved it.

  Grandma was thrilled. “Oh, I just love the colors! And the style…it’s so…it’s just so artistic!” she said.

  Funnily enough, I knew what she meant. We hung it on the front porch, fussing with the placement until she was perfectly happy with it. I asked Grandma to stand beside the banner so I could snap a photo with my phone. She did so proudly, happy to own a piece of authentic local art.

  I went to take a bath and get cleaned up. I planned on stopping in the general store before I met Suzy and Billy for dinner, to ask about the satellite service. That was one convenient thing about a small town. The general store sold absolutely everything, and if they didn’t have it, they could get it.

  I had put some bath salts in the water, and slathered my face with a mud mask. It wasn’t much of a luxury, but it was as close as I could get to a spa day on the farm. Since I’d been home, my muscles had gotten more accustomed to doing farm chores, but I still experienced some soreness here and there.

  Snowball was on the floor near the washing machine, relaxing. I put my head back and tried to relax while the mud mask worked its magic. I heard a little rustle at the side of the tub, and put my hand down to soothe Snowball. Instead, my palm connected with something sharp, and I drew it back quickly.

  “Sugar!” I exclaimed, grabbing my hand as I put myself upright in the tub, water sloshing everywhere. I looked down to find Martha Washington and Grace Coolidge, two of Grandma’s hens, looking up at me, the little troublemakers. My hand was bleeding a little, and I wasn’t sure if it was from a scratch or peck with their beaks.

  I used the washcloth to remove the mud mask with my undamaged hand, and got out of the tub, shooing the chickens out of the laundry room. I rinsed my hand under the sink, and poured alcohol on the open wound before putting a bandage over it. I’d have to let Billy take a look.

  It was still hot outside, so I put on a sundress and a pair of flats, kissed Grandma goodnight and headed out to get in the truck. I thought I had better text Billy.

  ME: Can u meet me at the clinic?

  BILLY: Sure. U ok?

  ME: Chicken – 1 me – 0

  He sent back an emoji that was laughing with tears coming out of its eyes.

  I met Billy at the clinic a few minutes later. He unlocked the door and showed me into the exam room.

  “So, a chicken injury, this time?” he asked, flipping on the bright fluorescent light overhead. “I’m glad to see you’ve moved on from goats. Variety is the spice of life, after all.” He winked at me as I hopped up onto the exam table, and presented my outstretched palm.

  “I was in the tub, and heard a noise, and when I put my hand down, one of them got me. Either Martha or Grace, I’m not sure which,” I said.

  “Martha or Grace?” he asked, pulling off the bandage.

  “Martha Washington or Grace Coolidge,” I replied as if it were a perfectly normal thing to say.

  “Oh, of course. I do love your Grandma, by the way. Who else gives each chicken a name, let alone such a regal one?” He squinted a little as he looked at my palm. “Hold still,” he said, reaching for a squeeze bottle behind him with a gooseneck. He squirted some sort of antiseptic, and blotted it with a clean piece of gauze.

  “It doesn’t look too deep. I don’t think you need stitches. But…have you had a tetanus shot lately?” He raised an eyebrow, doing that intimidating doctor face.

  “Um… in school, maybe? I’ve no idea.” I shrugged.

  “Hmm. Well, we should probably give you one just in case. Be right back.” He returned a moment later with a small syringe. He grabbed an alcohol wipe and stood to face me. “Left or right?” he asked.

  “Left or right what?” I replied, concerned about where he was thinking of putting that needle.

  Billy threw his head back and laughed with his whole body. “Left or right shoulder, Emma!”

  “Oh,” I replied, blushing. “Okay. Left, I guess.”

  He walked around to my left side. The sundress I had worn was cut in a little at the shoulder, which was convenient for the purpose. Billy put his left hand on the skin of my left shoulder, and applied the alcohol swab. A shiver ran through me and I got goosebumps.

  “You okay?” he asked before proceeding.

  “Yeah, of course. Just someone walking across my grave.” I gave a nervous chuckle.

  “Okay, little stick. Here we go.” Billy was a big guy, and his hands matched his stature. He held my shoulder firmly as he jabbed me with the needle.

  “Yowch!” I exclaimed as he pushed in the plunger, shooting the medicine into my bloodstream.

  Billy chuckled as he tossed the needle into a safety container. “Come on now, it’s not that bad, is it?”

  He wiped the injection site with another alcohol swap, and opened a bandage, adhering it to the spot. “Now, Lena’s daughter, Madison, makes me kiss the spot on her arm where I put the bandage after I give her a shot.” He chuckled a bit nervously, and rubbed my shoulder where he’d put the bandage. I chuckled too, and felt my cheeks turning pink.

  He had been my best friend when we were kids, but he definitely wasn’t a kid anymore. If my friends in New York had run into someone as tall, dark, and handsome as him, they’d have eaten him alive. I might have too, for that matter, but this wasn’t some random, handsome stranger. This was Billy Stone. My Billy Stone. It all felt very…complicated.

  “Thanks,” I said quietly. “It wasn’t too bad. We should probably go over to meet Suzy, don’t you think?”

  “Yeah, I’m pretty hungry,” he replied.

  We met Suzy at the diner. She had a table when we got there, and waved when she saw us walk in the door.