"SO, he gave you a big ass cross, that was it?"
"Yeah, pretty much." Sam said. "Can't even tell if it's real—"
"Hold on, if this was some heiress and she was bangin' Bobby, it's gotta be real, all right?" Dean said. "We're gonna find out."
"What do you mean it's not real?" Dean shouted at the clerk. He observed the cross with his oversized magnifying glass.
"The old bag was rollin' in it."
"Well, it looks like the old bag has a soft spot for fake rubies and cubic zirconium."
Dean groaned.
"This is interesting, though." He said, lifting a small piece. "It's a key."
Sam examined it before looking at Dean. "It's a key to what?"
"There's one way to find out. Ask Jeeves."
Joyce tossed her head back dramatically and rolled her eyes.
"What's wrong, Joyce, you don't like the sisters hands all over Sam?" Dean asked as Sam exited the shop first. She sent Dean a look, noticing the large smile on his face. She signed and mouthed the words: "Bite me".
"That's Sammy's job."
Joyce shoved her hands against his shoulders to push him out the door.
When they arrived back to the LaCroixs, there were still several cars in the lot, including a police vehicle. Sam and Dean looked at each other.
"What's wrong?" Joyce asked as they climbed out of the car.
"Something is off." Sam said as they walked towards the door.
"I could've told you that earlier today."
Dean rang the doorbell again as Sam sighed. As the door opened, the butler looked at the three, distraught.
"Everything okay?" Dean asked him.
"Not really."
The butler stepped aside and allowed the three in.
"I presume you three left something behind?" He asked. "I'll check the front closet for. . . Burlap."
"I got news for you, Mr. Belvedere. The jacket's canvas."
Another man approached them. "Uh, you three were here earlier?"
"Yeah, who wants to know?" Dean asked.
Joyce stiffened as the man revealed a Police Detective badge on his belt. "Detective Howard, New Canaan P.D. Congratulations, you three. You're now officially murder suspects."
Joyce blinked. "Who died?"
"I'm sorry, what?" Dean asked.
"Bunny LaCroix's brother Stanton was killed this evening. His body's just gone to the morgue."
"And you think—"
"I don't know what to think. And that's why you three and everyone else who stepped foot in this house today is being detained for questioning."
Joyce crossed her arms over her chest as he ushered them towards the living-room. Sam, Dean and Joyce walked down the hallway, and when Joyce glanced back, the detective was still watching them.
"It's so obvious she's guilty."
"You're off your rocker, old lady." Dash spat.
"Old lady? I—"
When she noticed Sam and Dean enter the room, she laughed it off. "I'm thirty-nine."
"And you have been since '03."
Joyce bit her lip to stop a smile from forming on her face.
"How dare you?"
Sam stepped in. "I'm sorry to interrupt, but who's guilty?"
"The town slut, Amber. She killed Stan."
"And what's her motive, "Murder, She Wrote"?"
Joyce hadn't seen this much family drama before in her life.
"Everyone knows that Amber was sleeping around. She wanted to leave Stan, but her prenup was ironclad. So she killed him."
"Sounds logical." Dean said.
"Well, unless you believe that ridiculous story that she's been peddling. A ghost killed Stanton— honestly."
"A ghost?" Sam asked.
"She's claiming that Bunny's late husband, Lance, did it. Have you ever heard such a thing? What a panic, so stupid."
"You're nutty as a squirrel on those synthetic hormones." Dash said as he got in her face.
Joyce turned her attention to Sam and Dean. "Does this mean we have a case?"
"Vengeful spirit?" Sam asked.
"Yeah, thinking we can get to the car, get the EMF?"
Joyce began patting herself down. She had put the EMF in her bag.
"Not with Detective Friendly. Not a chance. Guess we're gonna have to go old-school."
"All right, cold spots it is. You guys stay here, keep an eye on Mrs. Peacock and Colonel Mustard, I'll sniff around."
Joyce tried getting Dean's attention, but he was already gone. Why did she have to stay and watch the old cougars drool over Sam?
Beverly was already staring him down by the time she turned back around. Joyce looked up at Sam, who awkwardly waved at the woman.
"Okay, uh, I need to—"
Sam pointed as he walked towards Dash. Joyce sighed and made her way towards the opposite end of the sofa as Beverly.
"Aren't you a cute little thing?" She asked. "So quiet— haven't heard a peep out of you not once."
Joyce tried to sign to the woman, but she only stared at her dumbfounded. The brunette reached out and grabbed the pen and pad of paper from the table and wrote on it.
"I'm mute."
Beverly rose a brow. "Does that mean you don't speak?"
Joyce wanted to end her suffering. She stuck a thumbs up with a fake smile.
The detective and Amber entered the room and he looked to the younger man. "Dash, you're up."
The man finished his drink before following him out of the room.
Heddy sat at the table with a set of cards she began to shuffle. "Anyone interested in a game, since we're stuck waiting?"
Sam cleared his throat. "Sure, a game won't hurt."
The woman smirked at Sam, and Joyce almost gagged. She stood to her feet and followed behind Sam, the two sitting at the table across from each other. As she gave each of them a hand of cards, Joyce and Sam kept their eyes locked on one another.
"So, who's your friend here, Sam?" Heddy asked the man. Joyce turned her gaze to the woman, who was already looking at her.
"Joyce?" Sam asked. "Um. . . Well, she's—"
Joyce looked at Sam.
Sam's eyes moved to something behind Joyce. The woman turned her head and saw Dean.
"Will you excuse us?" Sam stood from his seat. Joyce did the same and tossed her cards down onto the table before hurrying behind him.
"So?" Sam asked.
"You seen the butler?"
"No, why?"
"Cause if anybody has answers, it's him. We're dealing with two vengeful spirits. Apparently Aunt Bunny had a bee in her bonnet, as well."
Joyce rose a brow.
"Husband-and-wife tag-team killer ghosts?"
"Well, got to keep the marriage alive somehow. The key is to a hidden attic."
"Why would Bunny want Bobby to have a key to her attic?"
"I don't know, it gets weirder. I found Olivia and Colette locked inside.
"Clown College Colette?"
"Yeah, but she ain't studying balloon animals; she's dead."
"Now, what does the Butler have to do with all this?"
"Maybe he's involved?" Joyce asked.
"He's the one who locked them in there. I wouldn't know why, but he's covering for the Spooks. He's acting like they're renfield."
"All right, we got to find him. I'll take the upstairs, you guys take down here."
Dean looked at Joyce as she fumed.
"You, stay here with these. . . Them." He demanded. Joyce opened her mouth, but Dean gave her a look. She sighed as she sank down in the chair nearby.
When Dean disappeared out of the room, the detective was leading Dash back in. She noticed his eyes were only on her, and she stiffened.
"Miss Cameron, it's your turn."
Joyce stood to her feet hesitantly. She followed him out of the room, and he lead her down the hallway towards an office.
"Take a seat."
The woman signed to herself, knowing damn well he couldn't understand. As she sank down into the chair, she watched as he tossed a pen and a pad of paper down.
"Joyce Roy Cameron, born April Eight of 1989. Survived an animal attack at twelve years old, but a deceased father. You were left mute."
She stared up at him with dark eyes. He had looked her up.
"Tell me, Joyce, what is your relationship with Bunny LaCroix?"
He glanced down at the paper and she grabbed the pen.
Nothing.
"And what is your relation to the Winchesters, Sam and Dean?"
She immediately panicked, and she scribbled the first thing that came to her mind.
I'm Sam's girlfriend.
"And they have no relation to Bunny, either. So tell me, why are you here?"
Moral support.
"You mean physical support?"
She stared at him as her blood began to boil.
I'm here to help Sam and Dean. They're saving lives.
"Saving lives or taking them?"
Joyce stood to her feet and slammed her hands down onto the table.
"It is ironic you and your father are attacked by a mysterious grizzly bear that just so happens to be in a low-populated area. You're alive and he is not."
Are you suggesting that I killed my own father? Her eyes were teary and her heart felt like it had been torn into pieces once again.
"It makes sense."
Joyce slammed the pen and paper pad onto the table as she stormed out of the office. As she slammed the door shut behind her, she gasped as she ran into someone.
When she looked up, she noticed Sam's eyes.
"Hey, what's wrong?" He asked. Her eyes were glossy and her nose was slightly red, but even so, she did not want him to worry.
"I'm fine." She said. "Did you find anything?"
"Yeah, we did." Sam said.
"What?"
"It's a shapeshifter."