by Ani Gonzalez
Luanne tapped her chin. Something about the driver was awfully familiar.
"Doesn't that guy work for the hotel?" Luanne asked.
Samira groaned. "It's Carl, the porter. They must be desperate because he is terrible driver."
"Oh, that's just because he wasn't used to the golf carts," Jean replied. "He's actually a nice kid. Used to be a magician in Las Vegas and he had a day job as a driver." She tapped her chin. "Or maybe it was a night job. Vegas is strange that way."
Luanne frowned. Magician? Vegas? Something about that rang a bell.
Murray stepped out of the bus, interrupting her train of thought.
"You can board the coach now," he said. "We'll be leaving in five minutes."
His words were greeted with heartfelt applause. The only person not cheering was the bus driver, who was bent over a map of the town, brow furrowed.
Samira chuckled. "I think he was explaining the route to Carl. The poor boy still looks confused."
"Oh, dear," Jean said, trying not to laugh. "I think you're right."
"It's a small town," Luanne replied. "It can't be that hard."
"I admire your optimism," Samira said. "But Carl got lost in the hotel parking lot when he was helping me retrieve my luggage. That boy has a natural talent."
There was that feeling again. Samira's words seemed important, but Luanne couldn't figure out why.
When she'd arrived at the hotel, Samira had been standing by the back entrance, waiting for someone.
And right around that time—
Jean laughed. "Even if we get lost, Murray will make sure we have a good time. He's a born entertainer."
Luanne examined the tall figure in the top hat. Murray did have a lot of creativity and personality, and she was, she had to admit, a tad envious.
She was a top-notch technician, but she was shy and awkward in front of an audience. That was holding her back. The best performers in their field were vibrant, voluble personalities who could hold the attention of a crowd, be it in person or through a medium such as radio, television or the Internet. Walter had that ability, and so did Murray.
Luanne gave a frustrated sigh. She'd tried to branch out, but she was uncomfortable with the video format and her delivery was stiff. Caine and the PRoVE guys had helped her make a couple of YouTube videos, but she knew she hadn't done a very good job.
That put her at an acute disadvantage. Jean's zodiac exercise video, for example, had millions of views. Now, Luanne didn't expect to do as well as Limber Lunges for Libras but she could do better than she was doing right now.
Maybe she should do a collaboration? There was the Obi oracle book that Kat had mentioned. That would be a good start. Caine would help them make a video series out of it. That's where the future—actually, the present as she was well behind the times—was. You couldn't grow your platform if you didn't do video nowadays. You needed a strong visual to draw an audience.
She glanced back at Murray's tall form. Sean had been correct—Zoraida's all-black look wasn't really her style, but Murray's colorful look was an options. Maybe she should consider a hat?
"Good-looking young man, no?" Jean asked as they walked to the bus, her yes twinkling.
Luanne blushed. "I was admiring his hat. It really grabs your attention."
Murray finished discussing the route with Carl. He jumped off the bus and gestured toward the door.
"Everyone aboard," he shouted. "Prepare to be amazed. I know you've been waiting for a while, but trust me, the town of Mystic Bay will not disappoint."
There was no trace of bitterness in him now. His eyes sparkled, his voice resonated, and his gestures were strong and confident.
Luanne smiled. Murray's charisma was a powerful force. The group immediately cheered up and started filing into the bus.
Jean nodded. "Murray is pretty amazing, isn't he?"
"Yes," Luanne agreed. "He should do television, or at least YouTube."
Jean looked at her strangely. Samira chuckled.
"Didn't you know?" Samira asked with another crooked smile. "He had a contract with a major cable network. They were very excited about doing a Victorian astrology show."
"I can understand why," Luanne said. Then she frowned. "Wait, you said 'had'? Why the past tense? What happened?"
Samira smirked. "Walter Farsight happened."
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
SEAN RAISED his hand to block the sun, wincing as he caught sight of the tour boat. It had probably been a fairly ordinary vessel at one time—a small pleasure ferry with cushioned seats and a comfortable cockpit in the back. Such simple creature comforts would have made it the perfect choice for a short trip around the Chesapeake Bay.
Too bad someone had put a huge dinosaur head on it.
"At least it's cute," Zoraida Cruz muttered beside him.
He'd recognized her immediately—black clothes, bright blue hair in ponytails, and lots of tattoos. She stood out among the association members who seemed to favor a bohemian gypsy look similar to Luanne's, now complemented with beach hats, seashell necklaces, and sunblock bottles.
Sean could understand why Luanne felt that she needed to change her traditional look. Zoraida's style was both modern and memorable. She didn't look like a fortune-teller at all.
"I kind of like it," Kat said beside him. "It looks friendly."
"But it's not accurate," Fiona replied.
The Banshee Creek contingent had opted for the monster tour, which he found surprising. He would have expected them to join Luanne's town visit, which would let them examine the local shops and maybe get some ideas for their own establishments. He knew Fiona and Kat were always looking for ways to improve their bottom lines, and yet here they were, monster hunting.
A surprising number of association members also opted for the monster tour. The boat was full and he could even spy Wanda Farsight and her husband sulking in a corner. Wanda would likely start complaining about the service any minute now.
Viola was also there, chatting with Rachel Lee. With slumped shoulders and limp blond strands hanging around her face, Walter's assistant looked even more Ophelia-like than usual.
"It's adorable," Kat said. "Look at that happy dinosaur smile."
"That statue is a plesiosaur," Fiona said. "But the fossils around here are of a Basilosaurus, which is not even a dinosaur. That thing should be a whale."
Sean chuckled. You can take the girl out of Banshee Creek, but you can't take Banshee Creek out of the girl. "You sound like Caine. He's very fierce about Mystic Bay's so-called dinosaur."
Fiona blushed. "Well, he's not wrong. It's a mammal. They should be clear about that."
"You really think there's something here?" Zoraida asked.
"No," Kat replied. "Not at all."
But, Sean noted with some amusement, she didn't sound very certain. Living in Banshee Creek could have that effect on people.
"But if there were," Fiona continued. "It would be a whale, not a dinosaur."
Zoraida laughed. "What kind of a whale?"
Fiona launched into a thorough explanation of the Basilosaurus's anatomy and habits. Caine, it seemed, had briefed her.
Sean took the opportunity to examine his surroundings. They were standing in the town pier, which was a fifteen-minute walk from the hotel. They'd walked down to the beach, stepped on the boardwalk and continued into town. That meant in order to get here they had to walk right near the spot where Walter had died.
Most of his companions had not been bothered. Understandable, given that they did not know where exactly Walter had met his fate. All they knew is he had been found near the parking lot.
The only one who had seemed a bit affected had been Zoraida. The black-clad fortune-teller had visibly shuddered. It may have been because of the cool ocean breeze, or it might have been because of something else.
Zoraida, however, seemed perfectly cheerful right now. She'd known nothing about the topic two minutes ago, but now she was arguing about prim
itive cephalopod nervous systems like an expert.
"It's a beautiful view," Kat said, apparently uninterested in the dinosaur—sorry, whale— discussion.
"Gorgeous," Sean agreed. "It will be an enjoyable boat ride, even if we don't find a dinosaur."
"Whale," Fiona interrupted loudly, eyes narrowed.
"Sorry," Sean said.
A small smile crossed Viola's face. Walter's assistant seemed to be overhearing their conversation.
At least she seemed to be enjoying herself. Although maybe "enjoying" was too strong of a word. Viola seemed truly affected by Walter's death.
"The town is attractive too," Kat said, desperately searching for a neutral conversation topic.
"Very nice," Sean agreed. "This boardwalk is beautiful."
Fiona and Zoraida were now discussing the Basilosaurus' brain size. The sea serpent, it seemed, was a very stupid whale. That, however, wasn't a conversation Sean wanted to participate in.
"Main Street is even prettier," Kat replied, trying to keep the conversation going. "Fiona and I explored it yesterday before checking into the hotel."
Sean smiled. He'd known they wouldn't be able to resist assessing their competition.
"What did you think?" he asked.
"They're doing interesting things," Kat said. "They attract new businesses by offering low commercial rents, free advertising, and tax incentives, which are ideas I'm going to bring up at the next Banshee Creek town meeting. Our town assists newcomers by letting them distribute flyers and helping with word of mouth, but Mystic Bay goes well beyond that. Their town coordinates a lot of cooperative cross-marketing, and it seems to work well. Banshee Creek also overburdens small businesses with permits for everything, Sean."
He nodded, but remained noncommittal. He'd heard that complaint before, but the permits were a mechanism to protect the public, given Banshee Creek's peculiarities.
"Mystic Bay also facilitates business-to-business loans, which is amazing." Kat pointed to the shops lining the boardwalk. "That's why the buildings are in such good shape. If a shop has extra money they can lend it to another shop for repairs and the town will guarantee the loan."
"Is that rare?" Sean asked.
He didn't know much about the inner workings of his town's businesses and he was, frankly, a little surprised by Kat's enthusiasm. He hadn't realized she was this excited by small business management.
But it made sense. Kat's shop, the Banshee Creek Botánica, was a thriving enterprise, and that was primarily because Kat was a stellar manager.
"It's practically unheard of," Kat said. "But that's how they keep all the shops looking so cute. I'm really going to try to get Banshee Creek to adopt that program. We have too many run-down buildings in town."
"But that fits with the haunted town theme, doesn't it?" Zoraida asked.
The Jurassic whale conversation seemed to be over, and Zoraida and Fiona were now joining their conversation. Guess there was only so much you could say about ancient whale brains.
"A place can be haunted and look good," Kat said, her voice firm. "My husband's ancestral home is fabulous, and it was as haunted as it gets. There's no rule that the house has to look like it's going to collapse at any moment."
"I don't know," Zoraida said, "I think the shabbiness adds to the ambiance."
Sean raised a brow. This girl liked to argue. Not that she didn't have a point. Haunted houses were supposed to look run down, but who wanted to live in a run-down town?
"Have you been to Banshee Creek?" Kat asked. "Some of those houses don't look nice at all."
Zoraida grinned. "I've been there several times. I considered re-locating there, but your friend Luanne was already well-established and it didn't seem like the town could accommodate two fortune-tellers." She scanned the crowd. "Luanne's he's not here is she?"
"No," Sean said. "She picked the town tour."
And she had made the right choice. Bye heading into town she'd saved herself discussion about primitive whale brains, small business loans, and spruced-up haunted houses. Luanne always had suspiciously good luck about these matters.
Zoraida leaned forward. "Okay, I would never admit this in front of her, but I was not looking forward to competing with Luanne LaRue. She's one of the best."
"Really?" Sean asked before he caught himself. "I mean, of course she is."
Zoraida nodded. "I'm not as good at the technical stuff, and your town attracts people who are nosy about those things. I think it's because of that PRoVE group you have. People who argue about whether a cryptid is a dinosaur or a whale will also argue about whether Mercury retrograde or Saturn in Taurus is affecting them." She shook her head. "I don't really focus on the details. I'm more of the intuitive type."
"I see," Sean said. "So that's why you chose to stay in Mystic Bay?"
Zoraida snorted. "Mystic Bay? I wish. I'm actually a nomad right now. I go from town to town and stay with friends. I tried to establish myself here but it didn't work out." She turned toward Kat. "Don't be fooled by the town's Pollyanna talk about helping new fortune-tellers and bringing new businesses into town. They aren't nearly as supportive as they pretend to be. If a bigwig targets you, they disappear into the woodwork."
The bitterness in her voice surprised him. Zoraida had been talkative and cheerful a few minutes ago, but now her mood matched her dark clothes.
"What happened?" Kat asked.
Zoraida's eyes narrowed. "Two words: Walter Farsight."
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
"THE TOWN was founded in 1923 by Sarah Shelley," Murray intoned. "A coal heiress from New York City, she was part of the Spiritualist movement. She was fascinated by the Spiritualist pioneers who founded communities in New York, Florida, and Illinois. She also loved the seashore, so she bought some land on the Chesapeake." He gave a dramatic pause. "Thus, Mystic Bay was born."
Luanne held onto the handrail as the bus lurched through the narrow and bumpy streets. The vehicle's wood benches were quaint, if a bit uncomfortable, but otherwise the tour was a lot of fun. There was something to see around every corner—a zodiac sculpture, a mermaid mosaic, and, of course, plenty of plesiosaur-themed art and décor.
Maybe they could do something similar in Banshee Creek? They already had walking ghost tours, so it would just be a matter of buying the buses, decorating them, and—
She shuddered as an image of a black, pimped-up ghost tour bus popped into her head. What would Caine do with a fleet of buses? It really didn't bear imagining, so maybe they should stick to walking tours.
Sitting next to Luanne, Samira snorted. "She was a rich twit who loved the beach. Let's get that straight."
Luanne giggled, but Murray took the interruption in stride.
"The shore was a big lure, both for Miss Shelley and for the visitors who would go on to make Mystic Bay prosperous. Sand and sun, however, were not the area's only attractions."
The bus turned and the passengers gasped as tall cliffs rose in front of them, framed by a perfectly blue sky.
"Beautiful," Luanne sighed.
"You can climb them, you know," Jean noted. "It's a great workout for earth signs."
Once again, Luanne gave thanks for her Pisces star sign. Those cliffs looked steep.
Murray laughed. "They are also a popular workout for paleontologists. Those cliffs have been attracting fossil hunters for more than a century, and the products of their expeditions now grace some of the most important natural history museums in this world."
The passengers greeted this fact with equanimity. They had welcomed the cliffs with enthusiasm, but hardly anyone was interested in fossils.
Murray went on to talk about the local fossil finds and how they gave rise to the local Chessie legend, which now brought countless tourists to the town.
Samira rolled her eyes. "Paleontologists, shmalentologists. Old Bob Mclaren came up with Chessie after he accompanied his wife on her fortune-telling tour of Scotland."
Jean turned toward Samira
. "Really? He wasn't a fossil hunter?"
"Oh, please," Samira said. "He wouldn't know a T-Rex bone from a plain piece of rock. No, he was a photographer who specialized in spirit pictures. You know, those fluffy shapes that look like ghosts?"
Luanne nodded. PRoVE had a huge collection of spirit photography and they had done a small exhibition in the Banshee Creek Town Hall last winter. Caine did not have a high opinion of spirit photography and he'd let everyone know it. As far as he was concerned, they were all a bunch of charlatans.
"Bob visited Loch Ness and came back full of ideas," Samira continued. "He remembered some old wives' tales from when he was young and decided to act. He rented a boat, took out his cameras, and the rest is history."
"Chessie was first sighted in 1936 by a military helicopter crew who saw a dark snakelike shape right below the surface of the water," Murray continued, undeterred. "Some fishermen sighted it a decade later."
"Those were the stories from Bob's youth," Samira whispered.
"But the monster developed a nationwide following when a local sailor sold some photographs to the local newspapers," Murray said. "The pictures showed a long snake-like shape swimming in the bay."
"You bet it was clear," Samira muttered. "Bob was good at his job."
Jean looked out her window. "Hey, is that the hotel?"
Luanne bent to take a look. Sure enough, there, on one of the lower cliffs, was the familiar Victorian building, its turrets piercing the azure sky and its white siding gleaming in the sunshine. Framed by the surf and sky, it appeared otherworldly and fairy-like. She could even see the winding staircase leading down the other beach.
And right near the bottom of the stairs would be where—
"That's where they found him," Jean said, as if reading Luanne's mind. "Just lying on the rocks there."
Jean pointed at a rocky outcrop.
"That's not a big drop," Samira said, peering through the window.
Yet, Luanne thought, Walter had been dead on impact. That supported the theory of an impulsive murder. No one would count on that fall being lethal, so someone had been very either lucky, or very unlucky.
