Chapter 1

I stood silently on my front porch, watching the cool fall breeze move gently through the autumn leaves of the brilliant maple that shaded the porch during the hot summer months. The air was crisp and earthy, causing a strange excitement to dance lightly across my skin as I shivered. Autumn was my favorite time of year- Halloween to be exact. Christmas followed closely on its heels as the favorite holidays. I sat at the white wrought iron table, sipping my pumpkin spice coffee. Today would be a good day, I was sure. I  was determined to forget I had come to a full standstill with writer’s block the night before.

I enjoyed living alone, with just my cat and me .Like many others, my difficult marriage had ended in a difficult divorce, and now in my mid-fifties, I was beginning to enjoy my life as a single woman who had realized her dream of becoming a bestselling paranormal mystery writer. I was currently halfway through finishing my sixth book, and today, I would catch up on my neglected self-care day. Running my fingers through my shoulder length reddish blonde hair I looked down and made a face at the black cat lying at my slippered feet. Pye opened wide green eyes at sight of the human sticking her tongue out at her and promptly closed them, pretending to sleep once more. I laughed. 

A sudden sound in the quiet hours of the early fall morning, startled both of us as the  ringing of my cell phone caused me to nearly drop my half empty cup of coffee. It was a call from my friend Ellen James, a real estate agent, inviting me to visit the Stonehaven House, one of the oldest properties in town. 

“I am heading over to the Stonehaven House out on Route 5. It has some real wild history that you might be interested in.” Ellen told me. “The house, is a dilapidated mansion with a dark history.”

“I believe that I remember hearing something about that house over the years.” I said, aware that Ellen has recently taken on the task of selling one of Jensen Harbor's oldest properties as Ellen continued to elaborate; “I have been trying to sell it for the current owner, Louie Howerton, an elderly and eccentric man who claims he will die soon.”

“Seriously?’ I shook my head at the phone in my hand. “He is actually convinced he will die soon?” 

“Something about a ghost.” Ellen’s voice sounded strange, then she laughed. “ I, help me sell it. You’re so good talking to difficult and weird people.”

I thought about it only for a second before deciding. I was intrigued by the house's history and the rumors of a ghost that haunts it and quickly agrees to help. After all, I was currently struggling with writer's block and maybe this was just what I needed to get writing again. An hour later, I was accompanying Ellen to Stonehaven House. We were immediately struck by the house's dark and foreboding atmosphere. The House stood stark and cold against the bright autumn sky. It was vast and sprawling, withered trees stood unmoving in the stiff breeze. A chilling unsettled aura draped itself over the entire house. I wondered how anyone could actually bear living in it.

 Ellen and I stood before the heavy wooden door and stared at the ancient iron lion knocker that glared down at us. We exchanged an uneasy look between us before I finally stepped forward just as the huge door swung open, and we were met by its current occupant, Louie Howerton. 

He was a short round little man with a sweet round face. His shiny bald head bobbed up and down in pleasure as he waved us into his home. 

“Come in! Come in!” he closed the door behind them and led them through a large foyer into a surprisingly well-lit living room. His demeanor was one of gentleness and a sweetness of soul. I was immediately taken by Harold, intrigued with him and decided then and there that I must interview him for a future novel that had just jumped into my head. 

‘Coffee?’ Louie asked sweeping a pudgy hand towards an elaborate silver coffee service on the cherrywood coffee table. I nodded, feeling the chill seeping through my sweater. I took a seat on the dark red velvet couch opposite of him before accepting the delicate cup and saucer he handed me. Ellen remained standing, her green eyes roaming over the Victorian walls and elaborate painting that filled them, as she clutched the delicate China in her hands. 

“I want to see the rest of the house, Mr. Howerton.” She told him. 

He smiled widely. ‘Of course! Of course! Please do, Ms. James.’

Ellen set her cup down on the Queen Anne coffee table. She tightened her grip on her purse strap hanging from her shoulder and with a nervous glance in my direction, she disappeared into the next room. I refilled the tiny cup and turned towards Louie. ‘Tell me why you want to sell this amazing house.’ 

He smiled crookedly before taking a sip of his own coffee. ‘Well, you see, Ms. Bishop- may I call you  I?  I, I realize this will sound strange to you, but I know that I am about to die- very soon and I need to sell the house as soon as possible to give the money to my only grandson, Jack Howerton.’ He dropped his eyes to the cup in his hand before continuing. ‘I want to make sure it goes exactly to the one I want it to.’

 ‘I can understand that.’  I nodded. “You have a grandson. I don’t believe anyone, including myself knew that.”

Louie chuckled. “ truth be told, I have never met him. I haven’t seen my son, John in…oh, fifty something years. Jack would be around your age,  I.”

“How wonderful for you, Louie.” I said, taking another sip of the Barry’s English tea. 

“I mailed him a letter last week, the private investigator I hired to find him, delivered it to him. Now I expect all the other vermin will start heading this way.”

I looked at him in surprise. “You have other family?”

Louie looked terribly sad for a moment before chuckling. “Family? No, I don’t have family, only Jack. I was told that Johnny died last year in an automobile accident.”

“Oh, Louie, I’m so sorry.”

Louie nodded, “Thank you  I.” He held up the teapot and I held my cup out. 

“Can you tell me a bit about this house?” I asked hopefully.  ‘I’m dying of curiosity; are the rumors of this house being haunted have any bases in truth?’

Louie gripped his coffee cup tightly in his pudgy fingers, his wide blue eyes darted around the room as if making sure they were alone. Leaning forward, he spoke barely above a whisper; ‘Sadly, yes. The house is haunted by a ghost named Abigail, who was my first love and died in a fire here in this very house, decades ago. It was very mysterious, very unexpected how that fire started in her bedroom.’  Louie set his cup down, his hands visibly shaking. ‘I tried to find out everything I could about that night. You see, she was my wife.’

 I felt the chilling fingers of an unseen hand brush the back of her neck. ‘I believe you.’

‘I have seen and heard strange things in this house, and I always feel a cold presence watching me.’ Louie caught his breath, expelling it with a hiss. ‘There is more than just her. There is something here that is terrifying and evil. It brings an icy chill to these walls, even in the warmth of summer.” He revealed, visibly upset. “I think the fire was set on purpose; that my beloved Abigail was murdered, not by her father, but by someone far more sinister. I have researched for fifty years. I have gathered so much, but still no closer now than I was then in knowing who started that fire- not that anyone would believe me, anyway.’

‘I think your idea for a book is perfect, and I will help you in any way I can. But I want you to do me a favor; write down everything I tell you and publish it as an article in the Jensen Harbor Tribune.’ 

“Okay. I will. But why?”

He smiled sadly. ‘To finally clear the air. There will be many who will refuse to believe, but some will. It’s time the truth is told, and the rumors laid to rest with the dead.’

He begins to tell her about his life, his family, and his regrets as Ellen rejoined us on the couch. Ellen and I sat for hours, listening to the old man’s story that spanned decades.

As Louie went to let the housekeeper, Martha Green know that he had invited us to stay for dinner, Ellen turned to me with excitement as she looked around the vast living room. 

 “This is the perfect place to hold the annual community Halloween party!” Ellen exclaimed, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

Louie, just returning from the kitchen, let out a loud gasp of excitement. “What a wonderful idea, Ellen! It’s perfect!”

We both turned towards him to see his round face lit with childish excitement. “I can’t think of a better way to celebrate Halloween, and this place is perfect for it.”

“The children will love it, Louie,” Ellen told him. “Supporting our town’s children is so important. You have such a beautiful heart.”

“Giving our kids—and adults—an exciting Halloween is one of the most important things I can do for Jensen Harbor,” Louie told us, his voice filled with pride.

“I certainly agree. And it’s deeply appreciated, as always,” I said, nodding in agreement.

“But how are we going to do this? It’s only three days till Halloween, and we need decorations, pumpkins, food.” Louie looked around the room at the walls covered with paintings in heavy gold frames, his brow furrowed with concern.

Ellen laughed, a light, musical sound that filled the room. “You leave that to me, Louie. I can get everything we need.”

“And the community will be more than happy to pitch in to help get this place ready—and help us decorate!” I assured him, getting excited myself.

Louie clapped his hands in glee, a big smile spreading across his soft round face as his eyes glimmered in unabashed joy. “This is going to be the best Halloween ever!”

The community was abuzz with excitement as Louie announced that the Halloween party would be held at the old mansion on the hill. Neighbors eagerly volunteered to help decorate the grand ballroom with cobwebs, pumpkins, and flickering candles. The townspeople came to help set up for the Halloween party, with many of the stores donating the decorations.

“Look at these pumpkins! They’re perfect,” Mrs. Thompson said, placing a large, carved pumpkin on the mantelpiece.

“And these cobwebs add just the right amount of spookiness,” Mr. Johnson added, hanging fake cobwebs from the chandelier.

Children ran around, giggling and playing, while adults worked together, chatting and laughing as they transformed the mansion into a Halloween wonderland.

“This is what community is all about,” Ellen said, smiling as she watched everyone come together. “It’s going to be a night to remember.”

Louie stood in the center of the room, his heart swelling with pride and happiness. “Thank you, everyone. This means so much to me—and to all the children of Jensen Harbor.”

The community was abuzz with excitement as Louie announced that the Halloween party would be held at the old mansion on the hill. Neighbors eagerly volunteered to help decorate the grand ballroom with cobwebs, pumpkins, and flickering candles. The townspeople came to help set up for the Halloween party, with many of the stores donating the decorations.

“Look at these pumpkins! They’re perfect,” Mrs. Thompson said, placing a large, carved pumpkin on the mantelpiece.

“And these cobwebs add just the right amount of spookiness,” Mr. Johnson added, hanging fake cobwebs from the chandelier.

Children ran around, giggling and playing, while adults worked together, chatting and laughing as they transformed the mansion into a Halloween wonderland.

“This is what community is all about,” Ellen said, smiling as she watched everyone come together. “It’s going to be a night to remember.”

The excitement in the air was palpable as more townspeople arrived, arms laden with decorations and treats. Mrs. Fitzgerald, the local baker, bustled in with a tray of her famous pumpkin-shaped cookies, their orange icing gleaming in the candlelight.

"Oh, these are simply divine!" exclaimed Mrs. Thompson, sneaking a bite. "The children will adore them!"

Mr. Guthrie, the high school art teacher, supervised a group of teenagers as they hung paper bats from the ceiling. The bats, cut from shimmering black paper, cast eerie shadows that danced across the walls.

"Make sure they're at different heights," he instructed, his eyes twinkling with enthusiasm. "We want it to look like they're really flying!"

As the sun began to set, casting an orange glow through the mansion's windows, the final preparations were underway. The aroma of hot apple cider and freshly baked treats filled the air, mingling with the scent of autumn leaves and pumpkin spice.

Louie stood at the grand entrance, greeting each new arrival with a warm smile and a heartfelt thank you. He couldn't help but marvel at how the community had come together, transforming his once-lonely mansion into a bustling hub of activity and joy.

"Louie, you won't believe what we've done with the garden!" called out Mr. Harrison, the town's enthusiastic gardener. "Come and see!"

Intrigued, Louie followed Mr. Harrison outside, where he gasped in delight. The garden had been transformed into a spooky wonderland. Jack-o'-lanterns lined the winding paths, their carved faces flickering with an otherworldly glow. Fake cobwebs draped the bushes, adorned with plastic spiders that glinted in the moonlight. In the center of the garden, a makeshift graveyard featured comically punny tombstones that were sure to elicit giggles from the children.

"It's... it's perfect," Louie breathed, his eyes misting over with emotion. 

Mr. Harrison beamed with pride. "Wait until you see it when all the kids are running around. It'll be magical!"

As they made their way back inside, Louie could hear the excited chatter of the first families arriving. Children in colorful costumes darted past, their eyes wide with wonder as they took in the transformed mansion.

In the corner, Mr. and Mrs. Chen were setting up a face-painting station. Their table was covered with an array of colorful paints, brushes, and glitter. Mrs. Chen was already practicing her designs on her husband's cheek, transforming him into a grinning jack-o'-lantern.

"Hold still, dear," she chided gently as Mr. Chen squirmed. "You don't want a crooked smile, do you?"

The aroma of hot apple cider and cinnamon wafted through the air as Mr. O'Brien, the owner of the local orchard, wheeled in a large barrel. "Who wants to bob for apples?" he called out, and a chorus of excited children's voices answered him.

Louie watched as Ellen helped a group of young girls hang paper chains across the windows. The chains, alternating orange and black, added a festive touch to the already magical atmosphere.

"You've really outdone yourself this time, Louie," Ellen said, stepping back to admire their handiwork. "This is going to be a Halloween party Jensen Harbor will never forget."

Louie felt a surge of pride as he looked around the transformed mansion. "It's not just me," he said modestly. "It's everyone coming together that's made this special."

Louie stood in the center of the room, his heart swelling with pride and happiness. “Thank you, everyone. This means so much to me—and to all the children of Jensen Harbor.”

As the final touches were added, the mansion glowed with the warm light of candles and the vibrant colors of Halloween decorations. The stage was set for a magical night, filled with laughter, joy, and the spirit of community.

 Chapter 2: The Annual Graveyard Tour

The scent of pumpkin and cinnamon lingered as we passed by a nearby pumpkin patch, as Sam and I eagerly joined the throng of ghostly figures on our annual Halloween graveyard tour, following closely behind our guide, Eldon Thompson. The air was crisp with the chill of autumn, and the heavy clouds cast an eerie glow over the cemetery. The cool October air was cool and crisp, carrying the scent of damp earth and decaying leaves. Eldon, a local historian and fellow Halloween enthusiast, headed the tour. A little over dozen people, most of them residents, the others tourists, stood across from him as he concluded his annual Halloween tour of Jensen Harbor’s more infamous historic sites. Eldon had shown us our beautiful, rugged coast-line that was a legendary  for shipwrecks a hundred years ago, until the town built the beautiful red and white light house that still graced the rocky point to this day; where several murders had taken place: mostly the scene of a scandalous fight between two men over a woman who wanted neither man, in which both men had been killed; and now the actual burial spot of Abbigail Stone, whose murder -or tragic death in a terrible fire at Stone Haven House had been embellished over the sixty odd decades to become known as the “Legend of Jensen Harbor.” As we walked through the rows of headstones, the cool air nipped at our skin, causing goosebumps to rise. The sounds of crisp autumn leaves on nearly bare branches, rustling in the light wind added an eerie sound to the atmosphere. With each step, the crunching of leaves underfoot seemed to echo the haunting nature of Eldon's words. He led us to Abbigail's final resting place, adorned with wilted flowers and crumbling gravestones. As president of our historical society, he had a deep respect for the history buried in this sacred ground. Eldon Johnson, a man in his sixties, stood tall and proud, a weathered tour guide with a twinkle in his eye. His hand rested on the large, moss-covered gravestone, its inscription barely visible through the years of rain and sun. The cemetery around him was a tangle of overgrown grass and crumbling headstones, a testament to the town's forgotten past.

Eldon began to recount the story of Abbigail Stone. She was the daughter of the founder of our small town's newspaper, The Jensen Harbor Tribune, and her tragic tale still lingered in the whispers of the townspeople.

The wind picked up as we stood in silence, listening to Eldon's retelling of Abbigail's mysterious death. In that moment, it felt as though she was among us, a part of this spooky tradition that brought us all together on this chilly afternoon in late October. 

“Abbigail was an elegant and confident young lady, just eighteen years old,” Mike recounted. “Her father, Waldon, was a sailor like most men from our town in those days. He would often be away at sea for months on end, and according to the town's gossips, their relationship was tumultuous. Abigail found solace in his extended absences."

She was like many young girls who was desperate to flee her father’s absolute control over her life. So, the story goes that while the cat’s  away, the mouse will play.”

Eldon paused in the middle of his story, and a few people couldn't help but snicker loudly.

“Abigail had fallen in love with Louie Howerton, a young man from their own community. They decided to get married secretly, but unfortunately for them, Waldon returned home earlier than expected and demanded that the marriage be annulled. Both Abigail and Louie refused to comply with his demand. In a fit of anger, Waldon attempted to shoot Harold, but his gun didn't fire and Louie managed to escape. However, Waldon's mental state was already unstable, and he ended up setting fire to the family's grand house- Stone Haven. Tragically, the entire family perished in the blaze, including Abigail and Waldon himself.

"It sounds like Waldon was a complete psycho," someone commented.

"Except that Louie was initially accused of starting the fire, until it was discovered that he was in the pub with twenty other men on the night of the incident," Mike pointed out. "It was later determined that Waldon had acted out of rage and set the fire himself."

A member of the group who stood towards the back spoke up, "What makes this tragedy stand out as a legend? People have committed familicide and suicide before, even in present times."

"That's very true," Eldon nodded. "But in all those cases, once they were dead and gone, that seemed to be it. However, with Abbigail's death, sightings of her ghost are still reported to this day in various parts of Stone Haven House- whether it be wandering the rooms or roaming the grounds like a lost spirit... which many believe she is." He gestured towards The house not far from us, surrounded by wrought iron gates.

One elderly woman in the group gasped, clutching her handbag to her chest. "How sad," she said. "Let's hope we don't encounter her today."

"Honestly, Milly, I'm always hoping we will when I give these Halloween tours every year. Now, let's make our way to Stone Haven House. Maybe we'll get lucky this time." Eldon chuckled as he turned to lead us out of the cemetery.

As the tour continued, I couldn’t help but notice one man who kept his distance from the rest. He seemed out of place, not like the typical tourist. From what I could guess, he was in his late fifties or maybe sixty years old. He stood out in his dark brown suit that looked hand-tailored and a deep burnt orange vest and tie. He had a neatly trimmed mustache, but his black hair with streaks of silver gave away his age. It was pulled back into a ponytail and secured with a wide leather band, perhaps an attempt to appear younger. Despite this, he still stood out among the group. As everyone else left the cemetery, he headed in the opposite direction, slowly strolling through the older parts of the graveyard. Every so often, he would pause to read the fading inscriptions on the crumbling headstones.

The chilly air had a bite to it, like a crisp apple on a fall day. The taste of hot cider and freshly baked cookies lingered in the mind. As we moved through the rows of graves, my writer's block seemed to crumble away, the eerie feeling from my visit to the Stonehaven House remained with me, refusing to dissipate. The stories of ghostly sightings and tragic pasts had ignited a spark of curiosity within my soul as a writer. While strolling through the old graveyard with Sam, I couldn't help but be drawn to the weathered headstones and whispered tales of those who once resided there. Pointing out a particularly ornate monument, Sam regaled me with the legend behind it, using animated gestures to bring it to life. I listened intently, already brainstorming new ideas for a mystery inspired by the haunting atmosphere of Stonehaven House. The crisp autumn air rejuvenated me, fueling my imagination as I envisioned a story filled with love, loss, redemption, and of course the paranormal-all set against the backdrop of Jensen Harbor.

Sam smiled happily, his blue eyes crinkling at their corners as he looked at me. We strolled through the rows of graves, my writer's block crumbled away like old mortar, revealing a clear path lit by newfound inspiration. I shared my thoughts with Sam, and he nodded in agreement as his eyes glimmered with the same spark of wonder that burned inside me. Together, we roamed among the tombstones, each one an untold story of lives long gone.

A sudden gust of wind gave me goosebumps, but I welcomed the chill, feeling as though the deceased were whispering their tales only to me. The mystery of Stonehaven House called out to me like a siren, and I knew that it was my destiny to unravel its complex history.

With a newfound determination, I turned to Sam and declared, "I've found my next great story. But this time, it won't just be fiction. It will reveal the hidden truths lurking within Jensen Harbor's shadows."

Sam's blue eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled knowingly. "I figured you would say that  I. The secrets of this town are buried deep, but I have no doubt that your sharp mind and keen eye will uncover them all."

As Sam and I exited the graveyard, a young woman approached us with a wide smile on her red lips. She extended a slender hand with crimson nails towards me. "Hi there!  I Bishop, it is an absolute pleasure to meet you! I read your latest book, The Murder Pool. I'm Shelley Johnson, Louie Howerton's grandniece and sole heir."

I looked at her in surprise, quickly glancing at Sam to see if he was also taken aback by this young woman's claim. "I'm sorry, but I've known Louie for years and he never mentioned a grandniece. Where are you from?"

Shelley's eyes narrowed. "Do you think you can just write about my home and my family history without my permission?"

"Now hold on, young lady. If you have any grievances, take it up with Harold. He was the one who requested  I to write the darn thing in the first place." Sam interjected.

Ignoring Sam, except for a flickering glance in his direction, Shelley continued, “You’ve dipped your toes into waters much deeper than you realize,  I," Shelley said in a low, ominous tone. "Stonehaven Households secrets that even the bravest dare not uncover. Are you prepared to face the consequences of digging up the past?"

The woman's threatening behavior only fueled the fire of anger within me.

Ignoring Sam's attempts to calm me, I locked my gaze on Shelley, my voice level and controlled. "You don't scare me, Shelley. I'll wade into those deep waters and unearth every secret Stonehaven House is hiding."

Shelley's eyes bore into mine like daggers, her words laced with a dark warning. "You have no idea what you're getting yourself into, I. The secrets of this place are buried for a reason."

But I stood my ground, refusing to back down. "I'll face whatever consequences come my way. The people of Jensen Harbor deserve the truth."

For a brief moment, respect flickered in Shelley's eyes before she nodded with solemnity. "You have been warned,  I," she said before I turned and walked away, now even more determined to uncover the dark and twisted secrets no matter the cost. Sam shook his head, “What is wrong with people today?”

As Shelley stormed off in the opposite direction, I turned to Sam, my heart racing with a mixture of excitement and trepidation. "Well, that was certainly unexpected," I said, trying to keep my voice steady.

Sam nodded, his weathered face creased with concern. " I, I've known you for years, and I know that look in your eyes. You're not going to let this go, are you?"

I shook my head, a determined smile playing at the corners of my mouth. "Not a chance, Sam. This is exactly the kind of mystery I've been waiting for. There's more to this story than meets the eye, and I intend to find out what it is." We turned back and watched Shelley's retreating form, her warning echoing in my mind. Sam placed a comforting hand on my shoulder. "Don't let her get to you,  I. She's probably just another local trying to cash in on the legend."

But something about Shelley's intensity nagged at me. There was more to her story, I was certain of it.

We began walking back towards the town, the crisp autumn leaves crunching beneath our feet. The sun was beginning to set, casting long shadows across the graveyard and bathing everything in a golden light. 

Sam and I headed for the Dockside Diner, as the tour had created an appetite for some of Jane’s famous clam chowder, perfect for a chilly afternoon such as today. We slid into our favorite  booth.

“Did you enjoy the tour?” he asked.

“Yes. I hadn’t taken it in a while. Did you?” I asked, knowing full well that he did.

Sam nodded, chuckling as he added sugar to his coffee. “Yep. “Ol‘ Eldon sure knows how to captivate his audience, even when we’ve heard it every Halloween for the last ten years.”

“I noticed it was starting to get chilly. I think I need to start wearing a thicker sweater now.”

Sam laughed. “Time of year,  I. Winter is on its way.”

Shelley's piercing gaze bore into mine, as if she could see straight through to my soul. I squared my shoulders, meeting Shelley's gaze with unwavering determination. "I am ready to uncover the truth, no matter how dark or twisted it may be. The people of Jensen Harbor deserve to know the secrets that have been buried for so long."

A flicker of respect passed through Shelley's eyes before she nodded solemnly. "Very well,  I. Never say you haven’t been warned.” I raised my brows and walked away. Sam and I headed for the Dockside Diner, as the tour had created an appetite for some of Jane’s famous clam chowder, perfect for a chilly afternoon such as today.

We slid into our favorite  booth.

“Did you enjoy the tour?” he asked.

“Yes. I hadn’t taken it in a while. Did you?” I asked, knowing full well that he did.

Sam nodded, chuckling as he added sugar to his coffee. “Yep. “Ol‘ Eldon sure knows how to captivate his audience, even when we’ve heard it every Halloween for the last ten years.”

“I noticed it was starting to get chilly. I think I need to start wearing a thicker sweater now.”

Sam laughed. “Time of year,  I. Winter is on its way.”

Sam tapped his spoon on the table as he realized I was not listening. My mind kept running over Shelley’s confrontation with me earlier. There was some about the entire meeting that didn’t add up, and I didn’t like the way it sat in my head.

Sam's bushy eyebrows rose. "You're really going to pursue this, aren't you?"

I nodded firmly. "Something doesn't add up. Why would Louie ask me to write about his family history if he had living relatives? And why is Shelley so adamant about keeping me away?"

“I dunno. Maybe he wrote them off years ago.” Sam nodded to Evelyn, the Dockside diner’s owner as she set a large bowl of steaming clam chowder in front of each of us. “Maybe, Louie decided to write them out of his will.”

“I’ve known Louie for fifty plus years, since we were kids, and that man has no relatives. He has one grandson, I remember. His only son up and took off years ago, to God knows where.” Evelyn spoke up as she placed a basket of oyster crackers in the middle of the table.

I looked up at her, “Do you know if his son is still alive?” I asked.

Evelyn shook her head. “I have no idea. No one ever heard from him again. Check with Louie.”

“Thank you, I will.”  I said, picking up my spoon.

I looked up as I heard the bells pealing loudly as a customer entered the diner. I caught my breath as I recognized the ponytailed stranger from the cemetery. I was surprised by my own reaction as Sam was as he twisted in his seat to see what I was staring at.