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salary.
    â€œLooks good in here.” I opened the mill door to find Fluggie tucked behind a desk.
    Fluggie looked up. Her eyes were magnified behind the glasses perched up on her nose, causing her white eyelashes to jump out even more. Her sandy-­blond hair was pulled up in the normal scrunchie-­and-­bobby-­pin look she always seemed to be going for. Her white, short-­sleeved collared shirt was tightly tucked into her elastic-­waistband capri khakis that were pulled clear up under her armpits.
    Her phone rang out a typewriter ring tone. She looked at it and sent whoever it was to voice mail.
    â€œWhat do I owe this pleasure?” Fluggie asked.
    I’d needed Fluggie’s help on some information regarding Cephus Hardy, and she’d sort of blackmailed me when she’d found out Granny was running for mayor. The Sleepy Hollow News had been shut down after Fluggie had stuck her nose into something someone hadn’t wanted exposed, and Fluggie had wanted the paper to be brought back to life even if the Internet was taking over. Needless to say, Granny hadn’t won, but O’Dell Burns had been more than happy to bring back the paper. The old mill had been open, and that was where Fluggie had set up shop.
    â€œI need your help and resources.” I plopped down in the chair in front of her. “I need some information on a very wealthy woman who was an only child. She’s been dead a while, but I’m interested in how much money she had and who she left it to.”
    â€œIs this a story I might want in on?” Fluggie asked. “Something you are working on for that little hot number of yours?”
    â€œStory. Maybe. For Jack Henry? No.” I bit my lip.
    â€œI likey!” Fluggie banged her hand on the desk. “You know something about this woman, and you aren’t telling your man.” She scooted to the edge of her seat and planted her forearm on the corner of the desk, leaning in. “I want in.”
    I shook my head.
    â€œNo, no, no,” I insisted. “There’s nothing to it. No story. Nothing. I just want to know what she did with her money.”
    Fluggie took the glasses off her face and put the ends of the frame in her mouth. She eased back in the chair.
    â€œThen you can ask around all them Auxiliary women. I’m sure they can give you the gossip. Unless . . .” She took the glasses out of her mouth and pointed them directly at me. “You don’t want anyone to know you are snooping around.”
    My chest heaved up, and then down from a big sigh. Fluggie and I were stuck in a stare down. I needed the information, and she knew it. She had the resources and I didn’t, unless I talked to Jack Henry.
    â€œI’m not saying you have to give me any details to why you are looking into this woman’s past or financial situation yet.” She drummed her fingertips together. “I want the story when you’ve collected all the data.”
    â€œI’m not sure there’s even a story.”
    Of course there was a story. Hell, there was a murder. And I was going to have to make a deal with the devil. Fluggie Callahan.
    â€œThere’s a story, or you wouldn’t have come to me. Just like Cephus Hardy.” She clicked her tongue in her mouth. “I haven’t figured it out, but somehow you were on to his murder. Was this woman murdered?”
    â€œNo.” Nervously, I laughed. I couldn’t risk anyone finding out how I helped murdered ghosts discover who killed them. “Okay,” I went on. I would feed Fluggie just enough to get the information I needed. “I have reason to believe Mamie Sue Preston might have been murdered.”
    Fluggie grabbed a piece of paper, took the pencil from behind her ear and scribbled away.
    â€œGo on.” Her features twisted into a maddening leer.
    â€œShe supposedly had millions. But where did they go if she didn’t have any family