She moves on to talk of suing “or doing a lot worse” to whoever is pulling this crap on her. I interrupt before blood get spilled.
“So you want me to convince the dead to move on?” I’m not convinced that she does. I think the woman would be happier if more of the living in her life joined the dead.
“Oh, please. How stupid do you think I am? I didn’t even believe in ghosts when I was a child. The only thing I believe in is people’s ignorance and gullibility. Obviously, someone wants to prevent me from running this hotel. It’s been closed for almost fifteen years now. Of course there would be rumors as to why it set empty for so long, but I’m not letting those rumors ruin me.”
There’s a knock and she stops to mumble some words to someone. She sounds almost pleasant, but only until a door closes.
“Whichever one of my competitors thinks I’m going to fold under the pressure is out of his or her mind. If they want to win a fight with me, they better plan on using more than Halloween characters. I plan on using nuclear weapons, and heads are going to roll.”
She stops talking and I hear another slam. I’m thinking what ghost would be desperate enough to stay anywhere near this woman. I need to get off the call. “So why are you contacting me?”
“Listen, I fight fire with dynamite. Whoever is trying to destroy me is a fool to play this game. I play to win at any cost. I’m looking into hiring a private investigator to find my nemesis and bring the idiot to me. My assistant was tasked with finding someone in your field who has a sliver of credibility. It took him three days to find you and so far, you’ve said nothing to impress me.”
I’m not impressed either. Not only is the woman on my last nerve with her tough talk, I think her assistant was my previous caller who wanted a haunted hotel. “Found me to do what?” Honestly, I still don’t know because I don’t do nuclear.
“I want to hire you to do your little ghost busting routine to discredit the idiots who are spreading rumors about my hotel. Then I want you to sign a certificate that says the hotel is not haunted, and that you found evidence of human tampering when you investigated.”
And I want the Easter bunny to lay golden eggs in my front yard. “That’s not the way I do business. You can fight your own battles. Nuclear weapons are not in my little ghost busting bag of tricks. Best of luck to you on your grand reopening.”
My finger is on the disconnect button when I hear her scream, “Wait a minute.”
“No, you listen a minute. You sound angry and even dangerous. Not only are my services legit, I determine what my services are. Your assistant is still tasked with finding someone with a sliver of credibility. I’m way out of your league.”
“No one is out of my league, but I like your self-confidence. Enough to offer you a very handsome bonus if I get what I want.”
My finger is inching away from the disconnect button while my brain is screaming that I can’t be bought, and yet still wondering just how handsome a bonus she’s talking about. “No deal on claiming evidence of human tampering.”
“What if you find evidence? Because I know you will. Like I said, I’ve been on the thirteenth floor many times. There’s not a single ghost in my hotel.”
Thirteenth floor? I’m back wondering if this is a crank call. “If I find evidence of tampering, I’ll turn it over to the police or your investigator to deal with. If you provide the certificate, I’ll sign it only if there’s no spirit in the hotel.”
“And you’ll stay for the grand reopening to sign it in front of the press and answer their questions.”
I start to say no then realize I’ll be getting my own publicity. I don’t want to be some super-duper ghost buster, but business has been slow lately and advertising on ghosts sites gets me more bogus inquiries than clients.
“A few questions.”
“Deal.”
“Wait. If I find there is a spirit in the hotel, I’m going to help it crossover. And I’m not going to deny that fact if anyone asks.”
She’s silent and I fear she’s about to go nuclear on me, but she starts laughing.
“Ms. Raven, I’m a board certified psychiatrist and a Harvard graduate. There are no ghosts in my hotel or anywhere else, period. I’ll risk you coming here and finding one under the bed or in the closet or wherever else you think one might be, if you agree to sign a certificate that the hotel is not haunted. If you need to look into a crystal ball to figure that out, fine. I promise you this will be the easiest money you’ve ever earned.”
I doubt this woman can promise me anything, so I tell her I need to think it over. This doesn’t make her happy, but she schedules another phone call for nine o’clock tomorrow morning and wishes me a good evening before hanging up on me.
Board certified psychiatrist? She sounded more like a certified psychiatric patient.
Before nine tomorrow, I’m going to do some research on the woman and the hotel. Maybe I’ll even find out why the place doesn’t respect the wise and time honored tradition of not calling it the thirteenth floor.
Chapter Three
§
I try to connect with Anna again, but she isn’t talking so I go to my office to find out what I can learn about the Herman Hotel and Ellen Boshears.
I figured out long ago that it’s always a good idea to find out what I can about my clients before I agree to take a job. I travel all over the country and since more than a few hauntings only exist in the minds of the self-proclaimed haunted, it’s nice to know before I hit the road that my client is sane. Ellen Boshears sounds like someone I need to confirm is only half out of her mind.
I get on the internet and learn that Taw Ridge, Tennessee, really does exist. One down, two to go. Taw Ridge has a bunch of two story buildings in its shopping district, tree lined streets just about everywhere, and one very drab red brick Herman Hotel– two down, one to go.
Boshears said the hotel had set empty for almost fifteen years. If so, it would have closed around 2002. It could have been closed for a lot of reasons including a lack of business or something even more deadly. I search for something more deadly. I’m about to give up when I find a news article on someone’s much outdated murders and maniacs blog.
December 30, 2002. Herman Hotel Closes in Aftermath of Triple Murders
Five months after three young women lost their lives at the Herman Hotel, owner Abner Tollison announces its closure. Mr. Tollison had struggled to regain the trust of patrons that was forever lost on the sweltering night of July 7, 2002.
On that fateful day, Miriam Dodd, the hotel’s housekeeper, opened the first door on her cleaning route and discovered a woman who had been brutally murdered in her bed. The police were summoned and two more women were found in their rooms, also butchered in their beds. The three were the only guests on the thirteenth floor.
The women, who were strangers in life, are forever bound in death. All three murders remain unsolved.
Three butchered women and Boshears doesn’t think there’s a ghost in the hotel? My bet is that she has three, and that they aren’t going anywhere until they have their say about what happened the night they were butchered.
I don’t find anything else on the crime, which is weird, but I don’t want to spend time searching. Since the one article didn’t mention the women’s names, my search is limited anyway. I find a number of women named Miriam Dodd, but nothing that associates them with the grisly murders or the hotel. I give up to check out the hotel’s website.
The site has a striking design and lots of bright and opulent images of the rooms, lobby, dining area, and the lush grounds with an ornate fountain. There’s also a photo of Boshears with her staff standing behind her, looking nervous.
She’s a tall woman with perfectly styled blonde hair and a steel jaw. Her bold red lips are smiling, her cold gray eyes are not. She has witchy looking eyebrows that sit high on her forehead and wing upward at the ends.
I place my fingers over her image and try to get a sense of the woman. Col
d, angry, determined. That’s good. It’s exactly how she came off when I spoke with her. What’s good about it is that she isn’t hiding anything when it comes to who she really is. That sets her apart from far too many people these days.
Abner Tollison isn’t mentioned anywhere on the hotel’s website. That’s wise. It’s best to leave out everything about the hotel’s dark past, though I’m sure a few in Taw Ridge remember the man.
Next, I search for Boshears’ board certified psychiatric practice and find nothing. I’m now only two for three. Maybe she gave the board a reason to take away her license, like a crazy reason. Then I remember she said she didn’t know the uncle who left her the hotel and decide she probably didn’t live in Taw Ridge. A search for the woman’s name turns up too many Ellen Boshears to review. I make a mental note to ask her where she’s from during our phone call tomorrow.
Satisfied that the hotel and Boshears really exist, and that it most likely has ghosts that need my help, I tell Anna I’m going for a hike to recharge my psychic senses before her very special séance that I have planned for her tonight.
She’s been quiet since the knife throwing incident and she still is, but I sense something is off. I stop at the door to tell her that I’m doing this for her benefit, and that I’m not going to push her out the door if she has some unfinished business she would like to see resolved.
I have a feeling she’s just not into her special night. That’s most unfortunate for me. It means that I’m going to end up drinking hot chocolate and refusing to share feelings with Georgia and Libby while Char paints her toenails and drinks whatever alcohol she can find in my house. I need to clear my head just thinking about it.
I lock the door and Mojo and me head to the flat rocks in the Las Trebol, New Mexico, desert. When my phone rings on my personal line, I pray for cancellations before I see who’s calling.
“Hey,” I say.
“Hey, Jack. You still planning on the séance tonight?”
Levi has gotten into the habit of keeping up with everything I’m doing these days. It only partially bothers me. I’ve known and loved the man all my life, but we’ve taken different paths over the years.
I thought our paths had separated for good, but things have changed. Now we’re getting to know each other just as friends– this is according to him. I told him he’s always been my friend, and that I know him as good as I know myself. I’m having some doubts about knowing myself these days. Our relationship is complicated.
I tell him about how Neil let me know with the kitchen knife that he wants to be called Anna.
“That’s something good to know before tonight,” he says.
Levi’s fishing for an invite. Along with Char, we did séances together as kids. The three of us would sneak out of our houses late at night and go to the local graveyard or somewhere else spooky. Char didn’t believe in ghosts until the night we contacted one at an old warehouse. Seeing is believing. So is hearing and feeling the icy touch of an earthbound spirit.
“Guess I’ll catch something on television,” Levi says.
“You do remember that Georgia and Libby will be there, right?”
He laughs. Like Arthur, he’s fond of Georgia. She’s got a motherly thing about her. “That’s probably not safe for the ghost,” he says, then does a pity pause. “There’s probably a Walking Dead episode on—
“You seriously want to come over? It’s my ghost’s séance and I don’t even want to be there.”
“You’ll have your hands full with the ghost, so what are you going to do with Georgia when she has a heart attack? And who’s going to drive Libby to the psych ward?”
He has a good point. “I’ll see you at eight.”
I climb the red rock and sit high enough to see for miles in every direction. I’ve been coming up here for years to enjoy the view. Now I do it to talk to the Great Spirit and ask for the message that lies buried in my heart and soul. The one about my future and the vision my grandmother has of how it will be. She hopes her meddling ways are why Levi is back in my life.
An hour later, my mind is at peace but it doesn’t have a clue what direction I need to go. How long can a woman travel all over the country to hunt down earthbound spirits and send them to the afterlife? According to everyone who supposedly loves me, not much longer. They, like me, don’t have an alternative option though. People who choose to work with the dead usually have issues working with the living.
I give up my quest for today, but promise I’ll be back. Sooner or later, my answer will be heard.
When I get back to the house, I feel like I’ve been kicked in the stomach. I’d think it was a not so welcome home from Anna if it weren’t for the wolfdog. He ran ahead of me and is sitting in the yard doing a low and cautionary growl.
“What’s going on?” I ask.
There’s nothing out of place. The front door is shut tight. I look around and everything seems fine. I know it isn’t. Mojo goes to the back of the property and I follow.
It’s already seven thirty. I need to get inside and make sure things are ready for the séance.
The back door is partially open. I feel dizzy and sick to my stomach. Mojo looks at me like he wants permission or reassurance before going in. He would never consider wanting either. Domestication is not in his DNA.
I push the door and the wolfdog pushes past me. I start to call out to an unwelcome visitor when I see the blood in the kitchen. “Anna?” Probably not. I step inside. The wolfdog is sniffing. I can smell it too. Something or someone is newly dead in my home.
Chapter Four
§
Mojo is circling the dining room table where the Ouija board is already set up. He comes back to where I’m standing in the doorway and gives me a curious look. I’m confused myself and my heart is pounding in my chest. I don’t know how long I’ve been holding my breath looking at the thing, but I’m still not anxious to exhale.
I start backing up to the kitchen to get out the door. A car door slams as I inhale fresh air. I assume one of my séance guests has arrived, and I pray it’s either Char or Levi. Mojo’s already gone to the front to see who it is. Libby is calling for me. She is not a fan of Mojo or he of her.
“The séance is cancelled,” I say, coming around the corner of the house. I’ve managed to get my phone out of my pocket, but am having trouble figuring out how to use the thing.
“No. It can’t be cancelled. I’ve been looking forward to it all week. Why? What happened? I brought bacon and cheese stuffed mushrooms. Don’t tell me the ghost is gone.”
I’ve reached the jeep and am letting it hold me up. “Skunk pig,” I say.
“Skunk? No. What do you mean? It’s regular bacon from the grocery store.” Libby slips the cover off the container of her stuffed mushrooms and shoves one in my direction. My stomach lurches as she waves it in my face. My finger is hovering over my phone, my mind is telling me not to do it.
Libby pops the mushroom in her mouth. “Did something happen to you? You don’t look so good. Are you sick? OMG, are you pregnant? Maybelle is going to be so happy. Why didn’t you tell me? Whose is it? You didn’t go to one of those in vitro labs did you? I would never do that.”
The ground is spinning. Mojo is softly growling. I hope he bites the woman just to shut her up. She’s a talker of things I’m usually not interested in hearing. She’s been talking to Georgia who has been talking to Maybelle. They’re all talking about my uterus.
Another car engine is rumbling up my road. I want to know who it is, but if I look up, I know I’ll be tempted to knock Libby down.
“I didn’t know he was going to be here.” Libby’s voice is starting to hurt my ears. “Hi, Levi. Jack isn’t feeling so good. Morning sickness isn’t just for mornings.”
“Bite her,” I tell Mojo.
I slip my phone into my pocket. This is not a police matter unless Libby doesn’t shut up soon.
“What’s going on?” Levi’s looking at me with pinched eyes. “
You look sick.”
I point to the back of the house. “There’s a dead skunk pig in my dining room. Lots of flies.”
He doesn’t say a word. He just turns and heads to the back. Mojo follows, and I sit on the ground. I’ve seen my share of carcasses in the desert, even a skunk pig or two. But I’ve never seen one in my dining room.
“What’s a skunk pig?” Libby’s eating another stuffed mushroom. I can smell the bacon, a food I plan on never eating again.
I hear the sound of more engines and look up. Char is parking her car in front of the house. She’s headed my way. Georgia is pulling in behind her.
“It’s a wild pig and its bloody body is in my house.” I put my head back down. A wild, bloody pig is in the middle of my dining room. I’ve been living with a demon for months and never knew it. What else has Anna done?
“It’s a skunk pig all right. How’d it get in the house?” Levi’s back and he’s standing over me. So are Char and Georgia. Libby’s gone to put the mushroom container back in her car. She’s keeping her distance, at least from me.
“Anna,” I say. I stand up and lean against the jeep.
Char’s headed to the back of the house. She’s got a weird curiosity and an iron clad stomach. I hear her yell, “Gross” followed by “Barbeque.” Bile creeps up my throat.
“You really think that ghost of yours killed a skunk pig and put it in the house?” Levi says. “It would have to be some kind of satanic offering if it did. I thought you said it liked to clean the house. What’s wrong with you? You’re overreacting. It’s just a dead pig.”
“Yeah, but it’s in my dining room.”
Georgia’s mouth is wide open. Char’s come back to describe the thing in vivid detail. She’s wearing a goth dress that would work well for a porn movie audition. If it wasn’t for the blue hair, she’d almost look scary.
“It’s got part of an arrow in its side,” she says. “No other markings. Probably just poachers out here again or kids. Have you called the police?”
“No. You moved it?” Char shrugs. “I went for a hike and the back door was open when I got back. I don’t think the pig unlocked it.”
The Taw Ridge Haunting Page 2
