10. Hattie

HATTIE

I t’s a dark and stormy night.

Okay, fine. It’s actually just a mildly overcast evening.

Okay, in truth, it’s the middle of the afternoon, but the sky is dark as soot—you get the idea.

There’s a chill in the air that hints at the approaching storm they’ve been threatening us with and the grounds of Willoughby Hall—or I should say Halloween Hollow—are abuzz with spooky excitement.

The crowds are thick, fog machines are pumping out enough purple mist to cover Lake Michigan, the grounds are filled with festive fall activities from small rides to an entire midway filled with fun Halloween themed prizes to be won, and don’t get me started on all the food vendors just begging us to try their scrumptious offerings.

The entire estate has transformed into a veritable playground of spookiness that looks as if it was ripped right out of a Tim Burton film.

Clarabelle and Peggy have joined Cricket, Rookie, and me in an effort to speak with Venetta Brandt, our number one suspect in the murder of Silas Moon.

Okay, so she’s our only suspect thus far, but still.

Knowing Venetta and Nora, I bet the two of them will try to pin this homicide on me somehow. Regardless, we were able to track down Venetta with very little effort, thanks to the copious number of selfies she posts at regular intervals every three minutes. And as fate would have it, she’s tucked away at a haunted mansion that’s all the rage among influencers and necromancers alike this month.

“This place looks as if that Halloween pop-up store downtown exploded,” Peggy mutters, clutching at her purse as if a zombie might try to steal it from her.

“It sure does.” Clarabelle nods as she takes in the scene with wide eyes. “And I give it the Clarabelle Harper spooky stamp of approval. Halloween really is the best holiday.”

I can’t help but agree. The entire estate has transformed into a Halloween wonderland that’s guaranteed to give both the smallest and the tallest among us nightmares for months.

The scent of something sweet wafts through the air and enlivens my senses.

“ Mmm , do you smell that?” I take a deep breath of the sticky sweet promises lingering in the air. “I think it’s those apple cider donuts calling my name. It’s like autumn in a deep-fried confection—one that I’ll be putting in my stomach soon.”

I can smell it, Rookie gives a cheerful bark as Jolly Beary wiggles while strapped to his back. I offered to put the bear in my tote bag, but Rookie was afraid he’d miss out on the spooky show at hand. And I almost taste the fried chicken, the pumpkin pies, the cinnamon rolls, and the funnel cake, too!

Cricket meows in agreement from her perch in my tote bag with her little furry head sticking out. And I detect caramel apples and pumpkin spice lattes. Both of which are your favorites, Hattie. As a thank you for steering you in their direction, you might want to consider gifting me an extra can of Fancy Beast cat food for dinner tonight.

“Consider it done,” I say, giving her a quick pat over the head. At least that way I won’t be the only one on calorie overload for the day.

Clarabelle, Peggy, Cricket, Rookie, and I make our way through the throngs of people outside. There are food stands offering everything from the aforementioned caramel apples to pumpkin spice lattes, kids running around in costumes, and even a few carnival games with oversized stuffed animals the size of refrigerators as prizes. The air smells like cinnamon and bonfires, and I can’t help but feel a little giddy.

Clarabelle is right. Halloween really is the best holiday.

By the time we reach the mansion, the entire lot of us pause for a second to gape at it with awe. The stone fa?ade is lit with green and purple twinkle lights, which cast spooky shadows everywhere you look. An entire army of jack-o’-lanterns line the stone steps, each one more intricately carved and adorable than the last, and the massive front doors are flanked by two ten-foot tall skeletons dressed as butlers. Charming.

We make our way to the doors, which open all by their lonesome, and the sound of creepy Halloween music grows in volume. Think organ music meets periodic screams and the sound of creaking stairs.

Inside, the fancy stone foyer is decked out like a haunted castle, complete with cobwebs hanging from the chandelier and a candelabra to the right that flickers ominously. The air is thick with the scent of cinnamon and candlewax, and the walls are lined with creepy portraits of men and women who look as if they belonged in the Gilded Age and whose eyes seem to follow our every move.

Before we can get two steps, we’re greeted by a Gothic-looking zombie who looks like Lurch’s long-lost cousin. He’s tall, gaunt, and his face is so pale that I have to do a double take to make sure he’s not actually one of the undead.

“Welcome to Halloween Hollow,” he gravels it out with an ominous growl. “Please, follow me.”

The three of us exchange a glance but follow him obediently despite the fact my feet are begging me to hightail it right back out of there. He leads us to the rotunda, which is bathed in an eerie red light. The ceiling arches high above us, and the walls are draped in black velvet.

The room feels both grand and oppressive, like something out of a horror novel. I’m guessing that’s the look Winnie was going for, considering the time of year, but come Christmas, I sure hope she opts for something a bit less keeper of the crypt and more Christmas in the North Pole . This place is so morbid, it has the power to make Santa rethink his visit.

“Stand here,” Lurch grumbles, pointing to a spot in the center of the ever-darkening room.

Rookie whines as we all gather in a huddle, and I can’t shake the feeling that something wicked is about to happen.

“Why do I feel like we’re about to be sacrificed to a coven of vampires?” I say just above a whisper.

“Because it’s Halloween, and this place is creepy as a graveyard,” Peggy mutters back and there’s a noticeable tremble in her voice.

The lights flicker and then go out completely.