Page 9 of Destined Chaos
“No, but you’re going to have issues if you don’t.”
“How do you know? Did you sabotage it?”
“Is there a reason you think people are out to get you?”
“No, sorry.” She plastered on a fake smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “What were you saying about the water heater?”
“It’s an old house, and Gambit didn’t make it down to the basement.”
“Yeah, well, there’s a lot of things he didn’t get to. It was nice meeting you, Mr. Bennett, but I really must run.”
“Hugh,” I called out while jogging down the steps and sliding into my truck.
Resting the donut box in the passenger seat, I started the engine and headed back out of the drive, only stopping when I got to the gas station to refill my coffee. I called Gambit to figure out what was really going on.
Ten minutes later, I had the whole story about how the place was haunted and had tried to kill him. It had started with little things like missing tools and a few minor problems and then switched to bigger, more deadly issues like being pushed down a flight of stairs. He claimed he was lucky to get out alive, and then he spent the next five minutes trying to talk me out of buying the place.
That wasn’t happening. I wasn’t afraid of ghosts or whatever might be lingering on the property. I had relatives that could help me get rid of them. What I needed was Libby Slaughter to agree to sell me the property.
4
Hugh
Four hours later, I pulled up right outside Sheriff Clark Weller’s office and waited with my truck running. The evening air had turned frigid, and the rain felt like icy pellets coming down.
Clark held his hat on his head, shielding his face from the rain as he ran toward my truck and climbed inside.
“Thanks for picking me up,” he said, sliding his hat off his head and dropping it to the floorboard.
“This weather turned to crap in a hurry. Your wife must be out of town.” I put the truck in gear and pulled out, turning my windshield wipers on high.
“Mercy went to visit her sisters,” Clark answered. “Be glad I talked her into going there and she didn’t insist that all of your cousins come here because, rumor has it, you’re playing with fire and there is nothing your cousins love more than getting into everyone’s business.”
I grinned. “You must have talked to Clara or Emmett.”
“Something like that,” Clark said as I drove across town and parked in front of the Mountain View Inn, which Clark’s mother owned. The Mountain View Inn was currently the only place in town to get a decent meal, but I had plans to change that.
“Is that why you invited me to dinner with your mom? Are you hoping excellent food will make me change my mind?”
Clark grinned and grabbed his hat off the floorboard. He pulled the door open. “It wasn’t me that invited you. It was my mom.”
Clark's loud laughter followed him out into the rain as he climbed out and jogged beneath the awning, where he smacked the water droplets from his hat while he waited for me.
“Why didn’t you tell me? Is she pissed that I want to open up a lodge? Because I promise it won’t take away from her business,” I grumbled like a child, knowing a reprimand was waiting inside.
“You’ll have to ask her yourself,” Clark said, yanking open the front door and stepping inside. He hung his hat on the coat rack and shimmied out of his raincoat and hung that up too, while I did the same.
“Mom,” Clark called out.
“In the kitchen, dear.” Her soft voice carried down the foyer.
Clark and I headed in that direction. The scent of Italian herbs and spices drifting through the house made my stomach grumble and my mouth water. Mrs. Weller was the best cook in town. I didn’t care why she’d invited me; she could yell at me all night as long as she fed me too.
I passed the dining room, and out of the corner of my eye, I caught the familiar face of their other dinner guest.
Libby Slaughter was leaning against the wall. Her arms were crossed over her chest, and she was shaking her head as if wishing she hadn’t run into me.
“What are you doing here?” I asked.
