Case of the Highland House Haunting by Jeffrey M. Poole

Author:Jeffrey M. Poole
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: crime, murder, mystery, dogs, comedy, amateur detective, animal detectives
Publisher: Jeffrey M. Poole

SEVEN

“Come on, you sucker,” I growled, as I gripped the controls tightly in my hands. I yanked back on the control stick and hissed with frustration as I felt the resistance on the arm. “Why won’t you move? Get the hell off my land, you miserable, ugly-looking son of a…”

Sherlock’s growl cut me off, mid-sentence. It seemed to be a new favorite pastime of his: interrupting me in mid-rant. Seriously, Jillian must have trained him to do that.

Yeah, I know what you’re thinking. Context is required in order to understand what is going on. Well, it was now Tuesday of the following week. The work had resumed on Highland House, with Robert the foreman assuring us that there’d be no more mishaps or delays. Thus far, he had been right. There certainly hadn’t been any more fatalities. Yes, it was still early in the week, but perhaps the ghost had finally moved on?

I was currently sitting in my all-time favorite toy, my John Deere tractor. Even though nothing had been finalized, and no plans had been officially drawn up, I was already clearing the land next to the winery in preparation for the new warehouse. I knew this was the day to get things underway when, after wandering outside first thing in the morning, I noticed there weren’t any cars parked along the side of the winery. That meant Caden wasn’t conducting a class at the winery today. No class meant no students, which meant I was finally able to get at that god-forsaken stump sitting directly in the middle of the impromptu parking lot. The stump even had one short branch left on it, down near the base, which looked remarkably like a middle finger. Every time I looked at it, I swear it was flipping me off.

Not any more, pal. Today’s the day when I flip you the bird back. So, with the dogs sitting next to me on the small buddy seat on my left, and me at the controls of my big toy with its front loader attachment, we began our battle. The SfH (Stump from Hell) came out swinging, as clearly this thing had what felt like roots that were extending several miles beneath the surface. My tractor was strong, but even it struggled to pull SfH out of the ground.

“Let’s try this,” I said aloud, as I repositioned the tractor on the other side of the stump. “Let’s clear away some dirt here, like this… good. Now, if we push the bucket underneath that root there, and… nope. Damn. There’s just nothing for the bucket to latch on to. Maybe… wait a minute. Of course! Why didn’t I think about that before? You two stay right here.”

I grabbed my gloves and hopped outside. Turning, I reached back inside the cab, under the buddy seat, to grab the chain I had forgotten was there. The only drawback was, with both hands preoccupied, and my face mere inches from the buddy seat, it put me within striking range of both dogs’ tongues.

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