“Do you know if you’re here because you’re cursed or because…” I wasn’t sure how to phrase it. It seemed stupid to ask her if she was here because of the method of her death. Violent deaths often led to spirits hanging around, although some of them were able to move on once they realized they were dead. Not in Janet’s case, obviously. She knew she was dead.

  Frowning, she said, I want to move on. I don’t want to be tied to this dress. Since you bought it, while I wouldn’t complain about attending your wedding—after all, I never made it to mine—I’d rather not spend eternity hanging around in your closet after you tuck the dress away.

  She paused. Okay, I’ll quit being the bitch. I don’t know why I’m stuck here. I don’t know who killed me or why. All I remember is I was waiting for my father to come walk me down the aisle. My bridesmaids and maid of honor had gone ahead.

  I worried my lip, dreading the rest of the story. She had never made it to the altar, meaning her love story had a tragic ending.

  And I decided to have one little drinkie to calm my nerves. I was standing by the wet bar in the hotel room. I was getting married in the arboretum that was in the basement. The next moment, somebody had his hands around my throat. I fought, but I wasn’t strong enough and I couldn’t get a look at him. I blacked out and when I woke up, it took me awhile to figure out what had happened. By the time I realized I was dead, I found myself sitting on a trunk in my mother’s attic. She had packed away the dress, and I couldn’t leave the attic while it was there. I seem to be limited to about a circle around ten feet in diameter from it.

  “Hold on, let me get something to take notes.” I jumped up and dashed over to the small writing desk in my room. I found a notebook and a pen. “All right, let me write all of this down.” A few moments later, I said, “Okay. Do you remember what date you were getting married?”

  Yes, actually. My wedding day was supposed to be June 7, 1966. I had the wedding dress custom made. Nobody had ever seen anything like it.

  The wistful tone in her voice made me sad. I felt like hugging her, but there was no way I could do that. However, Esmara seemed to feel the same thing because she walked over and gave Janet a hug. Janet looked up at her and gave her an uncertain smile, but she didn’t flinch.

  Thank you. It’s been a long time since anybody’s comforted me. Not since I was alive. I haven’t met many spirits who wanted to talk, and even then, most of them left before long and I couldn’t follow them.

  “How old were you, Janet?” I realized I was growing more invested in her story. She seemed sincere, and I didn’t get any warning bells off of her.

  I was twenty-three. My fiancé, Sirus Barker, was a puma shifter. I suppose he’s still alive, given he would have lived a lot longer than me. What’s the date? I know decades have passed, but I don’t have a way of knowing how long. She looked around. My parents died, and the house…I don’t know who owns it but the dress was put on commission in the bridal shop a few weeks ago.

  “You mean you’ve been sitting in that attic since 1966?”

  She nodded.

  “I’m so sorry. It’s 2023. You were there for fifty-seven years, then.” That meant she would have turned eighty this year, if she had lived. I sat the notebook and pen on the bed and looked at Janet. I couldn’t imagine being locked away in a stuffy attic with nothing to do for almost six decades. “What did you do there? You said occasionally other ghosts would come through?”

  I had a lot of time to think. I tried to figure out who could have wanted to kill me, but after a while, it seemed fruitless. I always felt like…if I knew who killed me, maybe I could leave. I also tried to figure out what bound me to the dress. I mean, I love this dress, but it’s not like I was marrying it.

  I took down some more info—her parents’ names, where she had lived, what she could remember about her fiancé, and then set down the notebook. “Okay. I can’t promise anything, but I’ll try to help. Meanwhile, I’m going to move my wedding dress into the guest room closet. That way you won’t have to stay in my bedroom.” I didn’t add that the last thing I wanted was for her watching Killian and me make love, or even to watch us sleep. I always found the idea of someone watching me sleep rather creepy. It was entirely too voyeuristic.

  Thank you, she said.

  At the moment, Xi and Klaus bounded into the room.

  Oh, cats! I love cats! I’ve missed being around them. I had a cat and after I died, she used to come up to the attic. She knew I was there, and she’d sit beside me and I’d talk to her. I know she must have heard me. But one day she just…didn’t show up and I never saw her again. I don’t know whatever happened to her. Janet sounded so sad that my heart went out to her.

  “You can talk to my babies, if they don’t mind.” I turned to Xi. “Can you see Janet?”

  The spirit? Xi asked.

  “Yes, little one. That’s her. She loves cats and hasn’t seen one in many years. Would you like to sit near her for a while? To let her talk to you?”

  We can do that. I might be able to talk to her somewhat. Tell her to listen carefully. Xi turned toward Janet. Hi! Can you hear me?

  Janet stiffened, staring at Xi. What? are you talking to me?

  Yeah. If you like us, we can hang out with you for a while each day. But only if you like us and treat my mom right. Xi turned to me and purred.

  Thank you. I miss my kitty so much. I miss so many things, Janet said. She hung her head. I’ve been alone so long.

  “Well, you’re not alone now. Let me see what I can find out. Meanwhile, let me move this dress.” I turned to Esmara. “If you can talk to Janet, too, it might help.” I figured Esmara could keep an eye on her, as well, and make sure that Janet didn’t wig out on us.

  Esmara nodded. Yes, why don’t you carry the dress into the other room now so I can help Janet get situated.

  I immediately clued in that she also meant so she could get a better feel for the spirit. I carried my wedding dress into the guest room and hung it in the closet. Janet followed, sitting on the edge of the bed. Esmara joined her, as well as Xi and Klaus.

  “All right, I’m going to get busy downstairs. Esmara, Xi, call me if you need me.” Notebook in hand, I shut the door behind me and headed downstairs, wondering what the hell I’d gotten myself mixed up with.

  I immediately sat down at the computer and brought up a browser. First thing was to verify that Janet was who she said she’d been. And that would require some internet sleuthing. I stared at my notes. I hadn’t planned on spending my evening hunting down a random ghost, but it was no stranger than a lot of my days.

  I typed Janet’s name and date of birth into the browser and sure enough, a number of links came up to news stories about her death, and most of them had pictures of her. Although a lot of them were fuzzy, it was clearly the Janet Kendrick who was in my guest room upstairs.

  I began reading the first story from the Moonshadow Bay Monitor website:

  The body of Janet Irene Kendrick was found on her wedding day, at 2:50 p.m. on Saturday, June 7 by her father, Dudley, who was supposed to walk her down the aisle at 3:00. Dr. Laurence Ferris, who was among the attending guests, pronounced her dead at the scene. Miss Kendrick was strangled by an unknown assailant, and her neck was broken. The investigation is ongoing, and no suspects have been arrested in relation to this case.

  Miss Kendrick is survived by her parents, Dudley and Marsha Kendrick, by her fiancé, Sirus Barker, by her grandparents, and by numerous cousins. The funeral will take place on Saturday, June 14, at 2:00 p.m. at the Ludwig Funeral Home.

  I stared at the story. There wasn’t much to go on, but at least it verified her story. She was who she said she was, and she had been murdered. I searched on, but couldn’t locate any article that stated her murderer had been found.

  Looking up her home address, I jotted it down. Was it worth a try? Given her parents were dead, I wasn’t sure. I checked out the fiancé. He was still alive and kicking. And he didn’t look a day over sixty. He was the owner of a tea shop, which had opened a few years ago on the outskirts of town. I thought about giving the shop a call but it was going on nine-thirty and I decided that first thing tomorrow, I’d give both Sirus Barker and Millie a call. Reluctantly, I decided to head upstairs for bed. Esmara could keep an eye on Janet for the night.

  Next morning, shortly after a quick breakfast, Killian took off to work and I called in to the office, telling Caitlin I needed the morning off. We weren’t that busy and she gave me the okay. My boss, Tad, was still in the hospital with a damaged liver from our fight with Bigfoot. He’d be back to work in another few weeks, but he had to take it easy for a while.

  “Esmara? Are you around?”

  Here, Esmara popped in, looking at the table. I miss eating. I miss eggs and bacon and hashbrowns and… She stopped, sighing. Oh well, it could be worse. What do you need, dear?

  “Where’s Janet? How’s she doing this morning?”

  She’s in the guest room, watching over the side yard. She told me that it’s so nice to see something else besides an attic, or the inside of the dress shop. I think she’ll be content for a while.

  I had the sudden image of me, carting the wedding dress to all parts of the house so Janet could get a new view. I had to free her from being stuck with it. I couldn’t give the dress away to a thrift shop or sell it, now that I knew she was attached to it.

  “Well, that’s good. I’m going to call her fiancé and ask to meet him, and I’m also going to call Millie and see if I can get a look at the files. Since no one was caught for the murder, it’s got to be a cold case by now.”

  Be cautious. You have no clue who might have killed her. Watch out stirring up a hornet’s nest, all right? Esmara stood, her voice stern.

  “I promise. Will you hang out and watch Janet for a while? I still don’t fully trust her.”

  Of course. Run along now. Esmara vanished up through the ceiling. It always disconcerted me when she moved through the walls.

  At ten a.m., I gave Sirus’s tea shop a call.

  “Violet’s Tea Dreams, may I help you?”

  “Hi, I was wondering if I could talk to the owner? Sirus Barker? It’s rather important.”

  “Hold, please.” The girl put me on hold and I waited. After a moment, a sultry-sounding voice came on the line.

  “Sirus Barker speaking. How may I help you?”

  I paused, wondering how to approach the issue. I didn’t want to blurt out that his long-dead fiancée was sitting in my upstairs bedroom. Then again, he was one of the Otherkin and could probably handle the news.

  “Do you remember Janet Kendrick?” I asked.

  He was silent for a moment, then cautiously said, “Yes…I do remember her. All too well. Why do you ask? Is this a joke?”

  I paused, wondering how to phrase the inevitable. “No, not a joke—not at all. My name is January Jaxson, and I was wondering if you would mind talking to me about her death. I’m looking into the case—I gather no one was ever found guilty?”

  “You gather rightly.” He paused, then said, “Are you with the police? Did something new come up so that they decided to open her case again?”

  Now came the hard part. “No, I’m not actually with the police. But I work with a paranormal investigations agency—Conjure Ink. And I’m a writer. But more than that, I bought a wedding dress that apparently belonged to Janet. And I know this may sound odd to you, but she seems to be attached to it. She…her spirit…is sitting in my guest room. She can’t leave the proximity of her wedding dress. I bought it for my own wedding—I love vintage. I had no clue she came with it.” I decided to stop and wait for him to respond. How he responded would tell me a great deal about the man.

  Again, he paused. “She’s sitting in your guest room? You bought her wedding gown?”

  “Yes, I did. Apparently whoever recently bought her parents’ house went through the attic and found it. They put it up for consignment.” I leaned back in my chair, wondering where this was going to end up. I hoped he wasn’t ready to hang up on me.

  Sirus hesitated, then said, “Come to the tea room at around seven, if you will. I can talk to you then.” He paused again, then said, “Are you going to bring her with you?”

  “Not unless I bring the dress, and I don’t fancy carrying it around town.” I thought about asking him over because I got the distinct impression he wanted to see Janet, but then stopped myself before I blurted out an invite. I had no idea who killed Janet. It could have been her fiancé, or it could have been someone else. But until I found out more, I didn’t want to open myself up to potential danger.

  “Okay. I’ll see you around seven?” He sounded eager, and I detected a note of sadness behind his words.

  “Yes, see you then.” As I set my phone down, I thought about what it must be like for him, to suddenly get a call out of the blue about his long-dead fiancée, fifty-seven years after her murder. I decided to call Millie Tuptin next. The chief of police, she was a German shepherd shifter and we had known each other for years. She might have files on the case that I could look over.

  “Hey, January,” she said. “What’s up?”

  “I was wondering if you might have some old files I could look at. An unsolved murder from 1966.” I waited.

  “That’s definitely a cold case. Yes, by law you can have a look through them, but you’ll have to view them here. What’s the name of the victim?”

  “Got a pen?”

  “Yeah, I do.”

  “Janet Irene Kendrick. She was killed on June 7, 1966, right before her wedding. As far as I can tell, the murder was never solved.”

  “I’ll call you back in a few.” She hung up and I sat my phone down, staring at it. I waited five minutes before she returned my call.

  “So, did you find the case?”

  “Yeah, I did. That was a messy business. A lot to unpack there.” She paused, then asked, “Why are you so interested? Haunted house or something?”

  I cleared my throat. “Haunted wedding dress. The ghost is attached to my wedding dress and has taken up residence in my guest room. I’m meeting with her former fiancé tonight at seven, but I’d like to know more about the case before I talk to him. And before you ask, she doesn’t know who killed her. Whoever it was, they approached her from behind.”

  “Shoot, there goes my next question. All right. I’ll set up the files in one of the conference rooms. What time will you be down here?”

  “Twenty minutes? After I stop at an espresso stand.”

  “I’ll be waiting.” She laughed. “You know, it would make it so much easier if she could tell you who did it.”

  “I know! Hey, I’m not thrilled she’s hanging out here, and I don’t want to walk down the aisle dragging her behind me. Yet, I do want to wear this dress. It’s—”

  “It’s freaking gorgeous,” Millie said. “If it’s the one in the morgue pictures, it’s lovely. And no stains ever got on it?”

  “As far as I can tell, it’s stain-free. And yes, it’s gorgeous. Okay, I’ll see you in twenty minutes or less.” As I hung up and stood up, I could hear the sounds of women’s voices murmuring. Esmara was talking to Janet, and I had the feeling Janet would talk her ear off, she seemed so terribly lonely. With a sigh, I picked up my purse, pocketed my keys, and took off for the police station.

  Millie ushered me into a quiet room in the station, where a small box of folders sat on the table. “Here we go.”

  I stared at the meager contents. “This investigation didn’t seem to go far, did it?”

  “Back then, a lot of them didn’t. We didn’t have DNA testing, or anything of that sort. I wasn’t part of the force, obviously, during that time. I’ve never even heard of that case.” She sat down next to me. “Let’s see, what do we have here?”

  I flipped open the first file and shook out the pictures. There was a picture of Janet in her wedding dress, then several of her when she was found dead. Even though I had seen her ghost, looking at her lying there, neck bruised, eyes lifeless, her wedding dress spread out like a diaphanous shroud, gave me the chills. Seeing this, I wasn’t sure I could wear the dress. As much as I loved it, I’d stand at the altar, thinking about the woman who had been murdered in my dress.

  “Well, there goes the dress,” I murmured. “Not going to be wearing it at my wedding after seeing these. Seeing it on her ghost is one thing. Seeing pictures of her sprawled dead in it on the floor is another.”

  Millie glanced at me. “Are you sure? Did she say she didn’t want you wearing it?”

  “No, but look…look at that picture. The dress deserves to be retired. It’s beautiful and tragic. If she hadn’t died in it, it would be a different matter. Vintage wear doesn’t put me off in the least. But dying in a wedding dress…now that I think about it, that gives me a bad feeling. I’m superstitious.” Disappointed, I pushed the thought about the dress out of my mind. I could find another. But I still intended on sticking to my promise to Janet.

  “Let’s see,” Millie said, glancing through paperwork. “They interviewed the fiancé, the father, every guest there, and most of them had perfectly good alibis for the time frame. The father didn’t, but he was on the road and they didn’t have cell phones back then. Common speculation pinned the murder on a stranger.”

  “What motive, though? She wasn’t raped, was she?”

  “No.” Millie flipped through more of the report. “And nothing appeared to be stolen. Someone wanted Janet dead.” She handed me several of the transcribed interviews. “Here, you take these and I’ll skim the others. Look for any names or potential motives.”

  For the next hour, we skimmed the reports and interviews. By the end, my head was swimming and I could barely think.

  “Well, that was a headache,” I said. “Why do they make the print so damned small?”

  “Because back then, that was normal. You’re right, though. Reading these old typewritten interviews are a PITA. I need to have someone go through, scan them in, maybe analyze them for clues that would stand out today but possibly not back in the day. So, did you find anything?” She turned her last report upside down on the table.