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niece. Just a nice man.”
    “Yes, he was,” Hayden said. “I apologize. The house has always looked a little scary to me.”
    “It looks scary to me, too,” I said.
    Georgia straightened the stack of free bookmarks on the counter. “The nephew’s name is Jerry, you said?”
    “Jerry Fairweather.”
    “And what does he do?”
    As little as possible. “I guess you’d say he’s a sort of consultant.”
    “Well, he’s welcome in Celosia, and you, too, dear. Are you a consultant, too?”
    “In a way. I’m a private investigator.”
    Hayden smiled. “So you weren’t kidding about solving mysteries.”
    “Actually, I’m looking for work, if you hear of anyone needing my services. I was just talking with Evan James about the trouble he’s having with the pageant.”
    Georgia shook her head. “Pageants. Silly things.”
    “I don’t know much about them,” Hayden said, “but if you can help Evan, that would be great. He worries about every little thing.”
    “Like someone else I know,” Georgia said.
    A small, hunched man slid two copies of TV Guide onto the counter and spoke to Hayden in a low voice. “Hear you have ghosts.”
    “Yes, I do,” he said. “How did you find out?”
    The man tapped his forehead, his long mustache drooping. “The alien network is always humming with news.” He nodded wisely and looked both ways before adding, “Want my advice?”
    “Yes, of course.”
    He lowered his voice even further. “Bread crumbs.”
    Okay.
    “Any particular kind?” Hayden asked.
    “White works best. You sprinkle them near all entry ways. Ghosts won’t come in.”
    “Thanks, I’ll try it.” He rang up the magazines and put them in a bag.
    The man handed him several limp, faded dollars. “I’m going to a high council tonight. I’ll ask them what to do, and I’ll stop by some night. How about Friday?”
    “I’d appreciate that, Bummer.”
    Bummer nodded again and went out. Georgia came around to the register. “Mr. Stevenson was quite chatty.”
    “He was in the mood to talk, I guess.”
    “He likes you, Hayden. You’re always so patient with him.”
    “Well, I feel a little sorry for him,” he said. “Nobody believes his stories about being abducted by UFOs. What if he’s telling the truth? Stranger things have happened.”
    “Is his name really Bummer?” I asked.
    “He likes to be called that,” Georgia said. “He tiptoed through one too many mushroom fields in the Sixties, dear.” She patted Hayden’s arm. “I’m so glad I have Hayden to handle all my eccentrics.”
    Another customer came to the register, and Hayden went to help her. I found the magazine I wanted, paid and left the store.
    Across the street from Georgia’s Books was a drug store remodeled to resemble a drug store of the Fifties, complete with soda fountain, juke box, ceiling fans, and booths with red vinyl seats. I sat down on one of the red vinyl stools at the counter. Gregory Prill got up from a booth and sat on the stool beside me.
    “Allow me to buy you a drink, Ms. Maclin. I must atone for my boorish behavior in the bookstore.”
    “No problem,” I said.
    He snapped his fingers at the girl behind the counter. “Annie. Two Cokes, please, and make them sing.”
    Annie rolled her eyes. “Yes, sir.”
    Gregory Prill fixed his bulging gaze on me. “Now then. Tell all. No secret is safe in Celosia. You’ve been seen on the street, so the town is abuzz. Who are you, and who is the cute man with you?”
    I handed him one of my cards. “Madeline Maclin of Madeline Maclin Investigations. The cute man is my friend Jerry Fairweather, Val Eberlin’s nephew and new owner of the dreaded Eberlin house.”
    “Nicely put.” He frowned at the card, looked at me, and frowned again. “You know, my dear, I think I’ve seen you. I do enjoy frequenting these little beauty pageants, and if I’m not mistaken, you were once a queen.”
    Once a queen, always a queen. “Miss Parkland.”
    “I knew it.” His