The Case of the Pilfering Poltergeist by B. I. Skinner

Author:B. I. Skinner [Skinner, B. I.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Felix the Cat Rocks
Published: 2022-08-17T22:00:00+00:00

While we drive to Dustin’s office, Clara recounts their time at the garage. She and Mystery explain the people and cars who came and went. I’m only half listening because I’m still mulling over my conversation with Remy and the fact, she lied to me.

I searched for Dustin’s office address and phone number on the internet and called his secretary to see if he was in. She insisted he was in meetings all day, but don’t they all say that?

He’s obviously not just going to let some stranger walk into his office and ask him about a murder and doll theft. I hope that by showing up in person, the secretary will take pity on me and let me see him.

When I arrive, there’s no one at the front desk, anyway. The door immediately to the right of the desk bears the name Dustin Holmes CEO. “It’s now or never,” I whisper to myself. I think by not giving him the chance to prepare a story, I have a better chance of getting the truth from him. I tap on his door while opening it slowly.

A tall, thin man with short red hair and a beard sits in a cushy chair behind a massive mahogany desk. His feet are propped on the desk, while talking on the phone. Remy was right. These offices are expensive. It even smells expensive. If expensive has a smell, that is.

Every detail appears arranged to convey loads of money. No detail was overlooked. From the artwork to the furniture, right down to the beverage cart in the corner.

I may not be able to estimate the exact value of the artwork or the furniture other than pricey, but as a bartender, I know everything on the beverage cart, from the liquor to the chunky, artful decanters, down to the glassware are extremely high end.

There are thousands of dollars sitting on that beverage cart alone. Why would someone like this insist that a collectible doll belongs in his family? Perhaps it’s a matter of family pride, but it certainly isn’t the money.

“Mr. Holmes?” I ask softly.

“I gotta go,” he says to whoever is on the phone, hanging up with a flourish. He pops up from his chair like a jumping bean. “Hello there! Please call me Dustin!” he booms, his hand outstretched in greeting. I extend my hand which he shakes vigorously.

“I’m so sorry to barge in unannounced, but I have a few quick questions for you. I’m Holly Daniel,” I tell him. “Paranormal Private Investigator.”

“Greetings, Holly Daniel, Paranormal Private Investigator! How are you?”

“I’m well. How are you?” He seems awfully happy to see a stranger he wasn’t expecting.

“I’m fabulous! It’s a beautiful day, isn’t it?” he gushes.

You know how some people seem genuinely happy. They make you feel good just being around them? It’s not this guy.

It's contrived. His expensive suit, the designer office decor, and the Mr. Rodgers persona feel fake. But maybe it’s just me. Besides, what does it matter? I’m just here to ask him about the Bebe Mothereau.

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