Braxton Campus Mysteries Collection - Books 5-8

Chapter 1-2

“I gave you life. I can take it away, my son,” she melodramatically and affectionately chastised while clambering up the path in five-inch pink pumps. Despite sinking a heel in a puddle of thick gray mud and flopping around like a drunken, one-legged pelican, she trailed behind by only seconds.

As a tried-and-true gentleman, I waited on the classically decorated rustic porch and held the fake-spider-covered door for her. Nana D had gone all out with cinnamon and pinecone aromas. I might hold a penchant for teasing my mother, but she was entirely too special not to demonstrate the loving respect she deserved. Wispy bales of yellow-brown straw and overgrown green and orange gourds adorned both sides of the entryway. “Hey, look, it"s The Hampster,” I quipped, showing one of the oddly shaped, ridged, and warty freaks of nature to my mother. She cast a disapproving glower in my direction over the wisecrack about my older brother Hampton, who"d just moved back to Braxton. Don"t ask how he earned that nickname. As if it weren"t obvious, I tended to be a tad sarcastic, but only in a clever way.

The HampsterSeveral wooden barrels, strategically bursting with hearty goldenrod, burgundy, and burnt umber mums, dazzled our eyes as we strolled into the farmhouse. My seven-year-old daughter, dressed in a silk cape and wearing plastic vampire teeth, soared into the living room to greet us. Long, curly dark hair framed her slightly chubby cheeks and bounced feverishly on her shoulders. “I"ve been baking up a storm all morning, Daddy. Nana D insisted we couldn"t eat brunch until we finished the pies.” Although my height had reached an unimpressive five-nine, not considered remarkably tall by any measure, Emma would surpass me. Her mother"s family, easily cast as giants by most normal-sized folk, had blessed her with the imposing stature. “Monster Mash” blasted through the background speakers.

“Tell me, sweetheart. What kind of pies are you treating us to today?” After kissing Emma"s cheek, I turned to my mother. “You"re so going down.” I giggled like an immature teenager and rushed into the kitchen, dragging Emma at my side despite my nose suggesting a loss in the latest wager. Given my commitment to round-the-clock renovations, I"d recklessly forgotten Nana"s true autumn welcome. At least I had an excuse; my defenseless mother had racked up way more years of experience than me.

I“Everyone knows Nana D bakes a pumpkin pie this weekend, silly,” Emma cooed, kneeling in front of the oven and grinning widely at a golden, bubbling concoction that oozed with deliciousness.

My mother sighed loudly, then impatiently snatched a knife and scurried toward the opposite counter, where two steaming dishes cooled on wire racks. “I guess we both lost, huh?”

“Don"t touch those pumpkin pies, Violet. You might be over fifty—” Nana D headily warned but was speedily silenced before revealing my mother"s true age.

“You better put a lid on it, Mom, or I"ll convince Dr. Betscha to sedate you for your own good. Don"t you dare say how old I am in front of those two.” My mother flashed a wicked smile, then flicked a hand in Emma"s and my direction. “They"ll tell the rest of the family, and you"ll be in big trouble.”

Nana D tapped her foot and scowled. “If you do that, I"ll ask the hooligan running the festival"s spooky corn maze to lock you in that coffin he installed near the north pumpkin patch.”

“Grab some popcorn, Emma. We"re about to watch a hilarious show.” Waffling over which diva would win today"s sparring match, I rubbed my hands together as if I were starting a fire from kindling. An intoxicating and picture-perfect cranberry, apple, and chestnut salad tantalized me as Emma now whirled a lazy Susan on the table like a pro. Would the ghost stop haunting me if we shared our food?

Baxter flew through the doggie door with a half-eaten purple aster, breaking the tension and altering the tone of the slapstick conversation. Emma locked our black-and-tan shiba in his crate when Nana D yelled about him pawing at her freshly baked desserts. “He"s ruined my poor flower garden.”

“Saved again by the adorable family pet,” my mother gloated, dropping the knife and tracing a thumb across a perfectly set pumpkin pie. “Delicious, but none for you,” she whispered behind Nana D"s back, after l*****g her finger clean.

“I guess I"ll bake a fresh batch for Father Elijah,” Nana D asserted, her eyes pointedly staring at my mother"s reflection in the upper cabinet"s glass pane. Foiled again. “I planned on delivering them after Mass, but you"ll need to bring new ones when you arrange Emma"s First Communion lessons.”

My parents would accompany me next week to our local parish priest to prepare for Emma"s enrollment in religious classes and official rite of passage into the church. Although she"d been baptized as a baby, this was the first time she"d receive the Eucharist. While I didn"t want to force my beliefs on Emma, most of our family was Catholic, so I would raise her in the same regard. Once she was old enough to decide for herself, we could explore alternative options.

“Where"s Ulan?” I checked all the nooks and crannies inside Nana D"s retro-style den, but he wasn"t around. The kid had a habit of easily camouflaging himself with his surroundings.

“I dropped him off at the library an hour ago to study.” Nana D indicated I should collect him at six that evening. “The vanishing magician is escaping from his shell.”

Ulan had lived with me for two months yet was still tremendously shy. I"d encouraged him to join the high school"s social clubs, but he preferred his own ideas. Uncle Zach had verified cocooning was normal behavior for Ulan, so I contained my worries. “Thanks. He"ll be glad to have his own room soon.”

Emma clapped repeatedly. “I can"t wait to move in. Ulan promised to build a treehouse with me the first week. He"s gonna show me what it"s like to live in the jungle.”

My father, who"d engineered an out-of-town weekend fishing trip with buddies, wouldn"t join us for brunch. Eleanor, my younger sister, was partnering with Manny, whom she"d promoted as the manager of the Pick-Me-Up Diner, to train their latest chef. Our brother Gabriel was visiting his boyfriend for an extended getaway. After six months together, Sam had enrolled in a Dallas graduate school, torturing them with the complications of a long-distance relationship.

My mother scooped a heap of aromatic fruit salad into one of Nana D"s cherished Halloween-patterned dishes—orange-glazed china with floating white ghouls—then passed the serving bowl to me. “I didn"t scope out your new place this morning, Kellan. Are you leaving those ghoulish turrets in place? If it were my house, I"d focus on fixing that exterior, so it doesn"t resemble a scary monstrosity.”

“I suppose,” I replied wryly, ignoring her accidental insult. Should I mention the weird, unnerving incidents the contractors had witnessed? I"d given little credence to their jokes about tools moving around while no one was home, but after my latest disturbing dream and the supernatural presence this morning, I second-guessed my decision. “Nicky Endicott offered me a good deal on the price of the reno, and he"s been handling most of the work. They even hired extra guys this week to complete the initial phase on schedule.”

“Are you still worried it"s haunted by ghosts?” Nana D drizzled syrup on her voluminous stack of fluffy pancakes—I suddenly recalled that everything was pumpkin-flavored for her in October—and ravenously swallowed a forkful. Between her tiny button nose and the lengthy, henna-rinsed braid she"d soon trip over, Nana D was an undeniably humorous vision. When she put on her tailored green twill suit, I"d call her my lucky charm. It usually resulted in a painful pinch on the underside of my arm, but the utter shock and frustration on her face was worth the temporary discomfort.

“There"s no such thing as ghosts,” Emma stated with the assurance of a much wiser girl. When raspberry jelly unexpectedly dripped to her chin, she snorted. “It"s just magic fairies.”

“Whatever it is, I don"t like it. Nicky separately chatted with the new workers this week. The crew claims someone in a white lace gown was floating on the second floor when they arrived to begin construction.” I"d thought at the time they must"ve drunk too much the night before, but after my own frightening and hair-raising experience, a cavernous dollop of fear stirred inexorably.

“What else happened? Maybe Eleanor can solve this hocus pocus nonsense.” My mother, already stuffed from a nonfat yogurt parfait and the miniscule morsel of pie filling she"d snuck earlier, aimlessly pushed fruit around her plate. No pancakes for her, mostly since her vanity echoed that of the queen from Snow White. Despite being ten years younger than my father and looking at least ten years younger than her true age, she constantly fretted about her weight and fading youth.

Snow White“Tools moved when no one was in the room. A minor overnight flood when Nicky supposedly turned off the water. Scratching noises inside the walls.” I swallowed the remaining food on my plate and pushed back my chair with a flourish. I wanted to unhook my belt to gain some breathing room but refused to admit defeat. I"d increase my upcoming workouts to counter the impulsive overeating. The stress of construction delays was wearing me down. “Eleanor threw angelica root around the house and volunteered to sing a freakish chant about poltergeists. She claims it"ll protect me against evil spirits.”

“I"m confident your prankster is the ghost of Prudence Grey. We"re approaching the fiftieth anniversary of her disappearance. She lived there with Hiram and is probably rolling in her grave, seething that he sold it.” Nana D unexpectedly shivered with excitement, then directed Emma to check on Baxter. “Little ears shouldn"t hear what I"m about to tell you.”

“Don"t even think about embellishing the story, Mom. We"ve heard you complain interminably about Hiram Grey"s past.” My mother was adamant about controlling Nana D"s gossipy nature. Though often careful with her words, someday, loose lips would bite Nana D in the you-know-where.

you-know-where“Pish! Last time, I only told Kellan that Prudence disappeared. The truth would"ve scared him from buying the house, despite Ulan"s imminent arrival in Pennsylvania.” Nana D smiled sanctimoniously as she shared the troubled history of the infamous Greys.

disappearedPrudence was Hiram"s first wife. Hiram, four years older, had just finished his senior year at Braxton College and enrolled in law school, obsessed with becoming a judge. Although Prudence had once been a stunning ingénue, she entered a rough period after giving birth to their son, Damien, and surviving independently while Hiram focused on his studies. Her parents had also died in a tragic accident, leaving her an emotional wreck. No one realized she"d suffered from postpartum depression.

“On Halloween in 1968, a gigantic organized protest against the Vietnam War erupted on campus. Everyone, professors and students alike, participated. Some were for it, others against it. It was a difficult time,” Nana D explained while scraping our plates into the trash compactor. “Hiram insists he"d left Prudence at home with Damien because he had to attend a vital class, but the professor recorded him as absent that day. When a bunch of students turned violent, the protest escalated, and the college library caught fire.”