“Have you tried knocking over her lamp?”
“Yes.” Chris sighed.
“Turning off her alarm?”
“Yes, obviously.”
Adrian huffed. “Well, have you tried hiding her left shoe?”
“Several times.”
Chris and his haunting consultant pondered Denise’s sleeping form. She’d walked away clean from the crash that’d killed him, and Chris had vowed never to give her a moment’s peace. Problem was, she laid the blame elsewhere no matter how many times he scooped soil out of her potted plants or switched off her coffee maker.
“Sorry,” the consultant said sadly. “There’s no good haunting that can’t be pinned on the cat.”
Author’s Note: Heaven knows I blame everything on MY cat.
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