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“I have a dozen theories, but I need more than that.”
“Jesus rode into Jerusalem on a donkey to convey his humility and his desire for peace,” Nana Pratt offered.
I mulled over the thundersnow and the donkey sighting. “What else?” I knew that donkeys were considered unclean under Jewish law, but that tidbit didn’t seem helpful either.
“Donkeys are notoriously stubborn,” Ray said.
My brain started firing on all cylinders. “What other traits do we associate with a donkey?”
“Wasn’t Pinocchio turned into a donkey?” Ray asked.
“Yes, but why?” I struggled to remember the story.
“It was a punishment.” Ray pressed his ghostly lips together, thinking.
Nana Pratt hovered next to the large picture window. “My father used to call my brother a donkey when he wasbeing lazy. It didn’t make sense to me because I thought donkeys were hardworking.”
“That’s it,” I said, my excitement rising. “Pinocchio and the other boys in the story were punished for being lazy and mischievous.”
“You think the loose donkey is a harbinger of laziness and mischief?” Ray appeared doubtful.
“The plow drivers are usually reliable, but they were late this morning because they overslept. Werewolves are disinterested in this weather phenomenon because they’d rather lay on the sofa and watch a comedy. Otto’s housekeeper was napping. I don’t think the woman’s missed an opportunity to serve since she left the womb. I don’t think all these instances are coincidental.”
“But what does a donkey have to do with thundersnow?” Ray asked.
“Not sure yet. First, I need to find out if any farms are missing a donkey.” I glanced at the ghosts. “You two know almost everybody in town. Can you give me a list of all the working farms?”
“That’s easy,” Nana Pratt said. “There aren’t many left. The Bridger farm is one of the last.”
That was an easy call to make. I already had Phaedra Bridger’s number programmed into my phone. Too bad there was no phone service now either. I’d have to check with her later.
“What does it mean if you discover the donkey doesn’t belong to anyone?” Nana Pratt asked. “I don’t understand.”
“It means…” I faltered. “I don’t know yet.”
But whatever it was, I knew it would be significant.
CHAPTER 8
The storm rageduntil the next morning. I was so relieved to look outside and see the roads had been cleared, I actually yelped for joy.
“For somebody desperate to hide behind a moat, you sure seem anxious to go out,” Ray remarked.
“First, I am not hiding behind a moat. I simply enjoy it for entertainment purposes.”
He made a noncommittal sound in response.
“Second, I’m anxious to go out because there’s something supernatural going on in Fairhaven, and if experience has taught me anything, it’s that Chief Garcia is focusing on the wrong elements.”
“Because she’s human.”
“Exactly. She has no knowledge of the supernatural world. She thinks all the stories she knows are nothing more than folklore and myth. It’s a hindrance.”
“When did somebody pin a deputy badge to your chest? I must’ve missed the ceremony.”
I glared at him. “I feel a sense of responsibility.”
“The question is why? Did you personally bring these supernatural elements to Fairhaven?”
