All Hallows Eve: A Krewe of Hunters Novella (1001 Dark Nights) by Heather Graham

later,” she said.
    He grinned at that, stared at the closed door for a minute, and then gathered his clothing for the day. He couldn’t be unreasonable. He’d had a nightmare. Part of coming home, perhaps. And yet, in their world, nightmares could be real or, at a minimum, whispers of threats to come.
     
    * * * *
     
    “Hauntings and Hallucinations rents the space from us for the event,” Micah Aldridge told Jenna.
    It was just nine in the morning but she’d arrived at the Mayberry Mortuary to meet with Micah. Sam had headed for the autopsy and his meeting with Gary Martin. Adam Harrison had performed his usual magic. The FBI wasn’t taking lead on the investigation—the situation didn’t warrant it yet—but they were to be given access to information and leave to investigate. She hadn’t met Martin and hoped that he didn’t intend to dismiss the death as a suicide with no possibility of foul play. Things were always easier when everyone cooperated with everyone else. Most of the time it worked that way. But every once in a while they hit a local law enforcement officer who was more proprietorial, not wanting federal interference.
    “I have to admit,” Micah said. “I kind of loathed the idea of having something so schlocky here when we are trying to do real research. But bills have to be paid and we make enough from the Halloween rental to carry us through the year.”
    She nodded. “Makes sense.”
    She studied the beautiful old building. By daylight, the skeletons, spiders webs, and jack-o-lanterns all appeared to be just nicely arranged paper and props, nothing more. By night, with special lighting, the place appeared eerie, especially the cemetery surrounding it. When it wasn’t Halloween season, the place still cast a certain melancholy about it, a poignancy that perhaps reflected the shadows of lives gone by.
    “You’ve been here before, haven’t you?” Micah asked.
    “I took an historic tour when I was about fifteen,” Jenna said. “It’s been a while. But I would like to take a look inside.”
    They entered through the foyer. Double doors led into a massive living room and to the ornate stairway that led up to the second floor. The living room was filled with creatures, spider webs, a giant tarantula, and other oddities. On one wall a painting had flesh when first looked at, but turned skeletal from a different angle. A grand piano, complete with a skeleton player, sat by the windows to the porch. By night, the interior lights would show him in an eerie symphony.
    “They do a good job,” Jenna said. “Where are the stairs down to the basement?”
    “John made it all possible,” a female voice said.
    She turned to see a young woman entering from the foyer. Attractive, with a wealth of long dark hair and a pretty face, but her eyes welled with tears as she approached.
    “I’m Naomi Hardy.”
    “Jenna Duffy.”
    “Naomi and John Bradbury worked hand in hand,” Micah said. “His death has been hard on her.”
    Concern filled Micah’s voice.
    “John was a true visionary,” Naomi said. “He went to shows across the country, always looking for the newest innovations in creepy, chilling, fun scares. But he insisted we keep some real history too, to go along with all the whacko legend and scary movie stuff. He was so good. Head of the artistic branch, and every year at Halloween, he managed this place himself. I still can’t believe he’s gone.”
    “I am truly sorry for your loss,” she said.
    “Jenna is with the FBI.”
    “You’re here over a suicide?”
    “Elyssa Adair, who found the body, is my cousin,” Jenna said. “I’m really here to help her through this.”
    The explanation seemed to satisfy Naomi.
    “John had the best job in the world. But then he’d had such a horrible divorce. His wife should have been shot. He’d had some drug problems as a kid and she dragged every bit of that into court, destroying his reputation. He had a hard time getting over it. All