Bun for Your Life by Karoline Barrett Page B

pointed to the guy who had just spoken to me—“and that’s Jason.”
    I had to admit they seemed like a polite bunch, despite their Goth looks. “Nice to meet all of you, too.” My mother taught me nothing if not good manners, complicated table settings, and the importance of thank-you notes. But I’m off topic. “I don’t think you need to hang around. It’s not necessary, and I prefer the entrance not be blocked. How about we just call you if we see any paranormal activity?”
    â€œYou won’t just see it. You have to have experience in the supernatural. We can hold a séance if you like,” Kendra offered, clapping her hands in excitement. “It won’t be hard to summon her. The fact that she died recently helps. She may be hovering close by. Maybe poor Calista can name her murderer. Ooooh, can we have a séance inside the bakery?”
    I held my hand up. “Uh . . . no. That won’t be necessary.” Not that I believed you could summon the dead, but I wasn’t going to let them try. In case I was wrong, I didn’t want Calista’s ghost hanging around, all peeved at me because she was killed with one of our doughnuts injected with peanut butter. I almost smiled thinking of her outrage as she floated around on a cloud somewhere. At least that’s how I pictured her: good and mad that she was dead.
    Two elderly women crossed the street at that moment, heading right for the bakery—maybe tourists enjoying the shops and the lovely weather before winter descended upon us in full force. One glance at the group in black and they clutched at each other, teetering on the edge of the curb as they hurried on. This was not good. “I think you need to move on, guys. You’re scaring customers.”
    Jimmy looked hurt. “Like, we’re totally harmless. We don’t drink, do drugs, or hurt anyone. We’re all going to college next year. We just contact the dead. You gotta be cool with that. Sometimes we’re even psychotic.
    â€œWe can read people’s auras, tell the future, feel bad vibes, see visions that no one else can. Once, we helped the police in Destiny find a missing girl in the mall. Tiffany and I pictured in our minds exactly where she was.”
    â€œIt’s ‘psychic,’ Jimmy,” Tiffany corrected. “Not ‘psychotic.’ That means crazy. We don’t want people thinking we’re crazy. He’s right, Molly. We all have that power. Ghosts, missing people, the dead. We’re hoping to form our own company.If we can agree on a name.”
    I bit down on my tongue so I wouldn’t laugh. Their earnest tone was rather cute. “I’m very cool with that, Jimmy and Tiffany. I’m sure you’re all upstanding citizens. But really, I can’t have you contacting the dead here, blocking the door. How about you try it in your own living room?”
    He shook his head. “Nah. My parents hate that stuff. My mom will freak. I don’t want to upset her.”
    I so had to concentrate on not smiling in amusement. Despite their looks, there was something so naive and childlike about them all.
    â€œCan we come in and see if we can sense Calista?” pleaded Tiffany. “Please?”
    She sounded more like a six-year-old begging to stay up late than a serious summoner of spirits.
    Before I could reply, Olivia swung the door open. “Hi, Moll. I see you’ve met our visitors. You guys feel anything yet?”
    â€œNo,” replied Jason, looking majorly bummed out. “It would be better to go inside.” He cut his eyes at me.
    I frowned, trying to look stern. Not a natural look for me. “You’re welcome to come inside, if you’re going to buy something. I don’t believe in ghosts, but if Calista’s ghost were to come back, wouldn’t it go to the scene of the murder?”
    â€œYeah,” replied Kendra, looking like