When the guy next to me keeled over dead, I admit I almost left his ass there and bailed.
Judge me if you want. I’m tired of telling Las Vegas homicide detectives that I’ve found a body. Again.
My name is Violetta Graves. I’m a cocktail waitress in Las Vegas. And I see ghosts. I should’ve never attended the séance for a murdered drag queen. Because now we’re all trapped in a locked room with a killer.
And the dead ghost hunter?
He was sitting in my chair.
