Alison’s shady ex needs to use her haunted guesthouse as a hideout in the latest from the national bestselling author of Ghost in the Wind. Where Alison Kerby’s ex-husband goes, trouble follows. This time, unfortunately, he’s brought that trouble right to her doorstep. On the run from a business deal gone bad, Steven, aka “the Swine,” owes some scary people a staggering sum of money. No need to panic, though. He has a plan: Sell Alison’s Jersey Shore guesthouse to pay them off.   Before Alison has a chance to read Steven the riot act, he disappears—after a mysterious man trailing him ends up full of bullet holes. Now the police are next to darken her doorway. For all his faults, Steven is still the father of Alison’s daughter, so with the help of ghosts Maxie and Paul, Alison sets out to find her ex and clear him of the murder. But if the bad guys get to him first, he may not have a ghost of a chance... Praise for the National Bestselling Haunted Guesthouse Mysteries   “Wonderful…a laugh-out-loud, fast-paced and charming tale.”—Kate Carlisle, New York Times bestselling author of the Bibliophile Mysteries   “Fans of Charlaine Harris and Sarah Graves will relish this original, laugh-laden paranormal mystery featuring reluctant ghost whisperer Alison Kerby, a Topper for the twenty-first century.”—Julia Spencer-Fleming, New York Times bestselling author of Through the Evil Days   “A couple of demanding ghosts, a quick-witted heroine, a creaky old house and a delightful cast of characters...What a fun and enjoyable story!”—Leann Sweeney, New York Times bestselling author of the Cats in Trouble Mysteries   “When combined with the author’s trademark humor and keen writing, readers will be wishing that the novel and the series never end.”—Kings River Life Magazine E. J. Copperman is the Barry Award–winning, national bestselling author of the Haunted Guesthouse Mysteries, most recently Ghost in the Wind , Inspector Specter, and The Thrill of the Haunt , as well as the novellas A Wild Ghost Chase and An Open Spook .   One "This is the end," I said. I was mostly talking to myself. It was one of those things you say to yourself when things aren't exactly going your way, and they weren't going mine right now. I was standing just short of the security line at Newark Liberty International Airport (the longest name for an airport in the continental United States, but that's just a guess) where at any moment-I had been told-my daughter, Melissa, now thirteen but no less sensible than she ever had been, would be returned to me after having been held captive against my will for almost a whole week. Okay, she'd been visiting her father in Los Angeles during a school break that took into account all presidential holidays and the remainder of a week, but to me that was the equivalent of kidnapping. Sure, Liss had been willing to go visit Steven, but that didn't make it the right thing to do. He had not been given (in my mind) the nickname The Swine without some cause. "What's the end?" Maxie Malone, to my right, was watching up the corridor as I was, despite my urging that she head on down past security and see what was holding Melissa up. Maxie could do that because very few people could see her. She was dead. More on that in a minute. "The end of my patience," I said into the little Bluetooth device I wore on my ear so I could talk to Maxie without people thinking I needed psychiatric observation. "She was supposed to be back here three hours ago." "It was snowing," Maxie reminded me as if I didn't know that. "You're lucky she's coming home today at all. They almost closed the airport." Since when was Maxie the Weather Channel? "That's not the point," I explained through semiclenched teeth. "The point is that I was supposed to have my daughter back at two and it is now five fifteen. That is worse than two." "You're overreacting," said Maxie. I looked around for a kettle and a pot to see what color they each might think the other was. Oddly I found none. "So she's a little late. You know how the airlines are." Maxie had once told me she'd never been in an airplane in her life. Maxie had been murdered at the age of twenty-eight and now existed-lived would be inaccurate-in my huge Victorian guesthouse back in Harbor Haven, New Jersey, roughly an hour's drive from here when it wasn't snowing. "It's not the airlines. It's Liss's father. He probably made it snow so I wouldn't get her back." Maxie rolled her eyes and clicked her tongue. I gave her a sharp look, which drew a quick glance from the TSA guard at one of the fluoroscope machines. Great. Now they'd think I was a hijacker because I was trying to glare significantly at one of my resident ghosts. Perhaps I should explain. After divorcing The Swine I had taken some money from the settlement-okay, all the money from the settlement-and some from a lawsuit I'd settled with an ex-employer with wandering hands and bought the big house