“Oh.” Hannah had been about to taste her fish, but now she set her fork down. “Oh,” she repeated.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I should have waited and not upset you while you were eating.”
She shook her head. “I’m just so sorry. He was—he sounds like he was a fine man.”
He nodded. “If it occurs to you later that it might mean something, let me know.”
“Of course. I’ll ask hi—” she began, then quickly cut herself off.
“Pardon?” He frowned fiercely.
“What?”
“You’ll ask who?”
“Oh, around. You know. See if the word means anything to any of the old-timers. Or anyone else, for that matter,” she said quickly. She looked down at her plate, picked up her fork again and began to eat. He was still watching her, and she knew it. “The fish is really delicious.” She made a point of looking at her watch. “We should hurry a little. People sometimes show up kind of early, and when they do, I let them sit out on the patio.”
“People,” he murmured.
“Well, yes, people. They are the ones who take ghost tours,” she said.
“And you just let them all into your house?”
“It’s a bed-and-breakfast. I have to let people into my house.”
“That’s one thing. I’m assuming you get their names, addresses, a form of ID? Those are guests—and at least you have something to identify them. Anyone can take a ghost tour, right? And you just let them all in?” He sounded incredulous, as if he couldn’t believe how foolish she was.
She set her fork down again. Dinner was over. She glanced at her plate. In fact, it was over. She’d been so hungry that she’d finished the fish without even realizing it.
“I’m in the tourist industry. Nothing is going to happen to me when sixteen people are following me through town. You’ve seen too much of the worst of humanity. I usually get to see the good,” she told him.
He leaned across the table. She was ready to hop up, then realized that he wasn’t trying to insult her. He was trying to convince her.
“You don’t know who might be on that tour. Who might have signed up to check you out, find a way to get to you. I can understand you wanting to see the best in people, and that’s a commendable quality. Except for now. And even after this is over, you might want to be a little more careful. You don’t know who might see something they like when they’re looking around the Siren of the Sea. Something they’d come back for.”
“Oh, great.” Distracted by that depressing thought, she stood. “This was actually a nice time. Thank you.” She suddenly realized how that sounded. “Oh, sorry. That was presumptuous. Are we splitting the check?”
His mouth twitched. “It’s my pleasure to get the bill.”
They left the restaurant. When they returned to the house, there were already four people waiting out front. Hannah quickly introduced herself and opened the door, inviting them in. She turned to introduce Dallas Samson and faltered, not sure how much to say.
He stepped forward and took care of that himself. “Dallas Samson, hello. I’m staying here at the Siren of the Sea.”
The foursome was the Taylor family, George and Ivy and their two grown sons, Trevor and Blaine. Ivy oohed and aahed over the house when they took seats in the parlor. Hannah excused herself to get them some bottled water as they waited for the rest of the tour to arrive.
In the kitchen, she paused. She didn’t know why; it just felt as if something wasn’t quite right. “Melody?” she said quietly. “Hagen?”
Neither of the ghosts replied. Looking around, she tried to find something that was different, but nothing stood out.
Had Jose Rodriguez been back in spirit form?
She was still, well, haunted by the sense that something just wasn’t right, but she still couldn’t place it, and now her house was filling up with people for her ghost tour. Reaching into the refrigerator, she grabbed three six-packs of water to take out to the parlor.
The Taylor family had been joined by Maddie, Belinda, Tobie and Josiah, the Rosewoods. The newcomers asked about the Siren’s history, and Hannah assured them that she would talk about the house when the others arrived. Agent Samson, she saw, seemed comfortable with everyone. He was capable of casual, friendly conversation—just not so much with her.
Two couples, a lone college student and a family of three arrived, completing the group of sixteen.
“It happened out back, right? Really close to the house?” George Taylor asked.
Hannah felt a cold chill seep over her. It was natural, she supposed. The murder had taken place practically in her yard. Tourists whose interests ran to a ghost tour were bound to ask about it.
Once again, she didn’t have to say anything, because Dallas stepped in. “In the alley that runs behind the house,” he said. “But the police are still working the scene, plus it’s cordoned off, so it will help if we just steer clear of the area for now.”