Chapter 16

The tour moves on and soon we're knee-deep in tombstones and even Watson and Spooky seem to be shivering with fear.

"Now where were we?" Madame Morticia looks momentarily stymied by what she's doing in a cemetery. "Oh yes, the tragic tale of George and Grimilda, whose love turned to madness and murder."

"Love and murder?" Naomi whispers our way. "That sounds like Loretta Lazzari's last six marriages."

Cooper's muscles go rigid and my jaw goes slack.

I bet Naomi has no clue that Loretta the Black Widow Lazzari is Cooper's little sister. Ha! For once I'm happy that Naomi's head is screwed on straight tonight. Now we can watch as she hangs herself.

Now that would be all treat and no tricks.

She leans toward Cooper. "I bet they're giving Loretta a frequent buyer's discount at this place. What do you think?"

"I think Loretta has only been married twice," he points out and his jaw cinches as if he were stopping himself from saying something more—and most likely a touch more colorful.

Come to think of it, Cooper is probably an expert at holding it together when it comes to the topic of his sister. He's had to deal with her shenanigans for a lifetime.

"Please." Naomi is quick to discredit his expertise on the topic. "Who knows how many dead husbands that Italian female stallion has stashed away."

Ha! She doesn't realize Cooper is Italian either.

Strike two.

"I bet she's putting all of the funeral expenses on her credit card and racking up some serious travel miles." Naomi tightens the noose around her neck and I can't help but smile. "But then, she won't need to take a plane anywhere. I've seen the broomstick she rides in on." And just like that, she's kicked out the chair beneath her.

I can't help but chuckle and Cooper shoots me a look.

"I wasn't laughing at that," I tell him. "I was laughing at that." I point to the walking tramp stamp among us—Naomi herself.

Madame Morticia gestures toward a looming mausoleum. "And here lies the final resting place of the infamous Widow's Curse."

Naomi giggles like a schoolgirl. "I knew we'd stumble upon Loretta's crypt eventually. It's nice to know she's corralled them all in one place."

Just like Naomi is corralling herself to a certain doom.

And I don't mind one bit.

I think, I can honestly say, I've never been so glad to have her around.

Morticia waves a glowing arm at the spectacle before us. "Legend has it that the Black Widow in question had so many husbands, her tombstone doubles as a scoreboard."

Naomi leans in. "You'd better watch it, Coop. Word on the street is Loretta is looking for her next victim."

"Don't worry," Coop says dryly. "She's not my type."

I can't help but snicker. I'm glad he didn't out the fact she's his sibling. I'd hate to turn off the horror show that Naomi is putting on so soon. Who knew she could provide such ripe entertainment?

We continue with the tour as Madame Morticia regales us with tales of ghostly apparitions, unrequited love, and mysterious disappearances as her voice carries an eerie cadence that seems to echo through the tombstones.

"And so"—Morticia concludes while veiled in an air of mystery, or it could be the cigarette smoke from the ghoul to our left—"I encourage you all to explore the realm of the dead on your own. But remember, tread lightly, for the spirits that dwell here may not take kindly to unwelcome guests."

With those cryptic words hanging in the air, Morticia bids us farewell, disappearing into the shadows as though she were but a phantom herself.

I slice a glance at my own unwelcomed guest just as someone whistles from across the way. It's Keelie, and she's waving her sister in that direction as if she were landing a 747.

"That's my ride," Naomi snips. "It was nice spending time with you." She caresses Cooper's cheek with her glowing blue fingers. I'm not too worried. She probably takes them off at night just like her head. "Don't forget, the Tavern of Terror is having a big bash on Halloween night. I expect you to be there."

"I wouldn't miss it," he says.

"And you won't want to miss what I'm wearing," she purrs. "Or more to the point, what I won't be wearing." She winks before slinking off in the dark.

"I don't know what she's wearing for Halloween," I say. "But I do know what she's wearing tonight—her foot in her mouth. Sorry about all those cracks she made about your sister. At least you got to see Naomi's true colors in action."

"And what about your true colors?" He hitches a brow.

"What about them?"

"I don't know"—he takes a look around—"we're in a cemetery. I was just thinking that a thoughtful woman like you might be moved to tears at the brevity of life, and how precious each and every day is." He shrugs. "What am I saying? You're the kindest soul I know. You wouldn't want a single person to land here, let alone land here well before their time."

Before I can process his words, both Watson and Spooky drag me off to the right and soon the four of us are miles from any living being—and alone, with this entire side of the darkened cemetery to ourselves.

I'll have to remember to reward these frisky pooches with a few extra doggie treats when we get home.

Some alone time with the good detective is treat enough for me.

"Now"—I say, wrapping my arms around the hottie in the flannel—"let's see what your true colors are, Detective."

A malevolent smile tugs at his lips as he inches his head toward mine, and just as he comes within striking range, a disembodied moan rides through the air and it sounds decidedly female.

"What was that?" I ask, clamping onto Coop so tight you couldn't squeeze a dime between us.

The moaning strikes again, this time twice as loud—and with another far more masculine voice added to the choir.

The atmosphere grows heavy with a sense of foreboding, and even Cooper seems slow to explore the vicinity.

Watson and Spooky race to my right as their leashes slip right through my frightened fingers and just like that Cooper and I are traversing headstones with the best of them in an effort to catch up.

They stop cold in front of a tombstone, and just as I'm about to take another step in their direction, a pale hand flops onto the grass.

I scream.

Cooper screams.

And the next thing you know, a man and a woman spike up half-dressed from behind that tombstone, screaming up a storm themselves.

Wait a minute…I think I recognize that tumbleweed of dark hair. The zombie she's with, not so much.

"Niki," I hiss at my tombstone-loving sister. "What are you doing here?"

"Effie? Cooper? Is that you?" she asks while scooping up my sweet pooches and stumbling this way. "I was just on a hot date with?—"

She turns around and the zombie she was with seems to have disappeared as proficiently as an apparition.

Niki and I let out a short-lived scream at the same time.

Coop reaches for his gun.

"Where the heck did he go?" he shouts.

"Probably back to the crypt he crawled out of," Niki says matter-of-factly. "So what's next?" she asks, looking to the two of us. "I hear they have a pretty mean corn dog down at the fairgrounds. How about we hit that? I seemed to have worked up an appetite."

So much for having some alone time with the good detective.

But on another note, at least I didn't land him on the wrong side of the soil here at Honey Hollow Cemetery.

How's that for showing my true colors?

Although color me blue in the face come Tuesday if he's still breathing.

My Uncle Jimmy will make sure I'm not breathing either.