“What?”
“I thought I heard you say the hotel is going to have more than three dead bodies to brag about. Technically, a hotel can’t brag.”
“Do you think this is a joke? This is a matter of life and death. My own. You better take this seriously. Are you on drugs or something?”
“No. I don’t do drugs. Have you taken your medication today?”
Boshears makes some weird huffing noise before she hangs up on me just as the coffee makes its popping noise that indicates it’s done. If I’d known the call was going to be so short, I would have stayed in bed.
I go outside and sit on the porch to drink my coffee and see if the mailbox flag is up again. It isn’t. I still haven’t decided what I’m going to do about the Roswell airport key. Once I settled down, I had my doubts about the skunk pig being Anna’s handiwork. I know for certain that the key isn’t.
Unless Anna really is some kind of demon, someone very much alive wants me to go check the locker. Probably the someone who came to put it in my mailbox yesterday while we were doing a séance and searching for an FBI tracking device. A person who may be watching me right now from the mountains in the Las Trebol desert. Under any other circumstances, I’d call the authorities and let them figure it out.
I finish my coffee and go back inside to take a shower. Just as I’m about to step under the hot water, my phone rings. I’m already paranoid that I’ll find another pig in the dining room or the men in black sitting in my living room. The timing of the call makes me think someone is watching me. Watching me naked in my own home. Now would be the perfect time to get a call about a job. One that is far away from Las Trebol.
On the third ring, I find my phone and see I should watch what I wish for. “Ms. Boshears.”
“Ms. Raven. I’m so sorry. It seems we got disconnected. I had a matter to attend to before I could call you back. I hope now is a good time to talk.”
Did I just hear a laugh under her breath? I don’t think so. “I have a few minutes.”
“Wonderful. As I was about to say before our call was interrupted, I would like to hire you immediately. I’ve checked the flights leaving from Roswell International Airport. There’s one at five o’clock. You can rent a car in Nashville.”
I’ve gone back to turn off the water in the shower but haven’t responded. Why would she assume I live near the Roswell airport? I’m walking around the house checking that the curtains are closed and looking for spy cameras.
“Ms. Raven?”
“I don’t fly.”
“You don’t?”
Boshears sounds so shocked I almost laugh, but not quite. It does knock some sense back into me though. “No, I don’t ever fly. I also don’t do work for people who make threats about killing others or who think they can order me around. So far, I don’t like anything about you or your attitude.”
I don’t have my address on my website or anywhere else. Why Roswell? Boshears is quiet and I’m thinking we really did get accidently disconnected this time. I’m on my knees looking out from behind the living room curtain at the mailbox. I think I see movement behind some saltbrush.
“I’m sorry. I don’t like my attitude lately either.”
I flinch. Boshears’ voice has gone all Miss Scarlett on me. Plus, I almost forgot the woman was on the other end of the phone. There’s no one outside.
“Can we start over? I admit that I’m handling this situation very poorly.” She sighs and I think she’s pacing.
“Two weeks after my husband was killed in a car accident, I got a call from my uncle’s attorney telling me that I owned a hotel. I was in no condition to do anything let alone make a split decision about starting a new life. But I did. Ever since then, I’ve regretted it. Now I’m stuck in this godforsaken town. Taw Ridge,” she laughs, a Miss Scarlett kind of laugh.
“I was born here, but thank heavens my parents moved us away. I was a fool to consider my home town could ever feel like home. If the hotel fails, I’ll lose everything. Everything but this hotel, which I can’t sell now.”
“So you didn’t know about the three murders?” I ask.
“Murders happen every day, everywhere. They’re irrelevant.”
“Okay. Not that it’s any of my business, but why didn’t your uncle sell the building? The taxes alone were reason enough to get rid of it.”
“Of course they were. He was an idiot. He should have sold it and left me the money. His attorney said he moved back to Nashville after the murders, but he refused to sell the building. Instead, he came back once a year to walk the halls like a lunatic. The rest of the time he squandered my inheritance on its upkeep.”
While Boshears is busy trashing her relative, I’m on my laptop searching for her in California. She really is a board certified psychiatrist and amazingly, her license hasn’t been revoked– yet. I don’t find anything about a husband who died in a car crash. That concerns me, but he could have had a different last name. Boshears even has some nice five star reviews on a medical site. Granted those reviews were written by mentally unstable people, but still.
“I’ve read some nice things about you online,” she says.
I jump and look around. Then I click off the review site.
“I need someone I can trust. You aren’t the first person I’ve talked to about this. You wouldn’t believe some of the things others told me, or maybe you would. I’m sure your profession is fraught with charlatans and psychopaths. You’re the only person I want to hire.”
She was so close to getting a little sympathy before she slandered my profession. I wonder what all it takes to become board certified. And seriously, I doubt there are any nice things written about me online. I don’t really have the type of clientele who leaves reviews. Most people don’t like to share their supernatural experiences, and I couldn’t win a congeniality contest if I tried.
I’m in the living room where I left the key. When I’d held it in my hand last night and tried to tune into the energy of the person who left it for me, all I felt was cold. I pick it up and turn it over. Roswell.
“I can leave in the morning,” I say. Boshears makes a peep sound. “If you sign and return my contract and make your payment by six o’clock today—
“I can definitely do that. Whatever you need, just ask. I’ll have your room waiting for you. Actually, the thirteenth floor is the most elegant, and you’ll have it all to yourself.”
The spirit pig was right. I’m just so lucky.
Chapter Seven
§
I plan to spend the rest of the day doing research on the Herman Hotel and peeking out the windows. I’ve already watched the mail carrier with suspicious eyes then went out to discover all he left was bills– this time.
Levi called to see how I’m doing. I didn’t tell him about the key. I don’t have time to go to Roswell today, and I don’t want him demanding that I give it to him so he can go while I’m gone.
I can tell he isn’t happy about my leaving town, but he doesn’t say a word. He knows it wouldn’t do any good to try to talk me out of going. Lately though, he’s been making suggestions about what other kind of work I could do including working at my father’s diner. I don’t have to wonder who gave him that idea or how badly it would turn out.
He’s not the only one who is trying to clip my wings. Maybelle wants me to open a tarot card shop in town. That’s suspicious since my Navajo grandmother thinks reading cards is nonsense.
My ghost eradication business pays the bills, and it’s always been an adventure. I don’t like others trying to put an end to the fun. Sometimes the fun gets dangerous. I usually keep the details to myself about that, so I don’t know what all the concern is about. Despite their efforts, I’m not ready to settle down.
I start my online research by checking out Taw Ridge again. It’s a sprawling suburb outside Nashville with rolling hills and expensive looking houses. The drab Herman Hotel at the end of a quaint but modern business district seems out of pla
ce. I wonder if Boshears saw the building before she left her practice and home in California. I’ve got the feeling she didn’t and almost feel sorry for her.
A longer search turns up two more articles about the Herman Hotel murders. It’s more than a little curious that the three murder victims were the only ones on the thirteenth floor that night, and each the single occupant of their room, according to one article.
Looking for events in Taw Ridge and surrounding towns turns up nothing that might have prompted the women to be at the hotel. Even more curious is why I can’t find their names anywhere. I’m hoping Boshears’ uncle left old records with the names of his guests. I send her an email asking her to check for old log books and have them ready for my review.
After two hours of searching, I give up trying to find the women and more about what happened that night. Then I remember the housekeeper. I’m thrilled to find a Miriam Dodd in Taw Ridge on Facebook. She looks to be in her mid-thirties and owns a house cleaning business. Sounds like the Herman Hotel housekeeper all right, and I can’t believe my luck. I also can’t wait to pay the woman a visit to learn what she remembers.
After I’ve copied everything that may be of use about the town and murders into my notepad, my phone rings. It’s Maybelle and she already knows about my new job and the skunk pig. Levi’s always been fond of my grandmother as well as a gossiper.
“We need to have lunch at the diner,” she says.
“Okay, but if you try to talk me out of going, I’m leaving you there to walk home.”
“Come by now to pick me up. I’m ready to go.”
She loves to assert her authority in any way she can, but I’m anxious to talk to her so I agree. I consider telling her about the key, but don’t know if I trust her not to blab about it to Levi or Char, both would love the adventure of snooping inside that locker.
I tell Maybelle that I’ll leave soon. She tells me to leave right now then she hangs up before I have a chance to answer.
Fifteen minutes later, she opens the door, sniffs the air, and walks away. Maybelle’s blind, but that has no affect on her sixth sense. She knew it was me before she opened the door, so I don’t know what the sniffing is all about. I start to go inside, but she’s back and telling me that we need to leave. It’s a waste of time to question her. We ride in silence to the diner. I can feel her prying inside my mind.
Georgia’s waitressing today and I cringe. She waves as we come in and I wave back, then I put my finger to my lips and gesture to Maybelle. I fear Georgia has already blabbed about the pig too, but I don’t want her telling more.
“It is not for you to silence others where I am concerned,” Maybelle says, as she sits in a booth. “She cannot tell me anything I don’t already know.”
Georgia is all smiles when she comes to take our orders. Maybelle wants to know how Libby is doing. Georgia isn’t looking at me now. She says Libby is better. I’m not sure what’s better about her.
“It’s not a demon,” my grandmother says as soon as Georgia is gone. “Nothing else could put a skunk pig in your house, so who could have done this?”
I haven’t told anyone about Anna and the FBI men except Char and Levi. Char I can trust since she’s always been afraid of Maybelle. “I’m not sure.”
“Don’t lie to me, child. You cannot trust the authorities, especially those who wear suits and sunglasses and wait for you to return to town.”
“When did you talk to Levi about all my business?”
“You are my business. Levi loves you. He would not keep your secrets from me.”
“That doesn’t make sense.”
“Answer my question. These men, are they the ones threatening you?”
“No one is threatening me.” I give up and tell her about Anna and the FBI then I take a deep breath and tell her about the key. I have no willpower where the woman is concerned. She nods like she already knows about it, but I’m sure she doesn’t. She probably does.
“Bring me the key. I will read the energy, and Levi and I will go to the airport while you are out of town. Now tell me about this new job of yours.”
“I’ll go to the airport when I get back. This is my problem—
“We will go to your house after lunch. You should have brought the key with you. Now tell me about this job.”
I knew I should have kept my mouth shut, but I don’t doubt she got into my mind. “It’s a haunted hotel in Taw Ridge, Tennessee, outside Nashville. It’s called the Herman Hotel. The place closed a few months after three women were murdered. The client’s uncle recently left it to her in his will. She’s had complaints from guests about some noises.”
Georgia returns with our lunch. She’s still avoiding looking at me and hurries away.
“Mostly the Cherokee and Chickasaw lived in the state. Not anymore. They were moved to reservations in Oklahoma. All were moved out of Tennessee. The land is cursed now. You should not go.”
“I’ve already taken the job.”
“This hotel is bad luck. The luck will never change,” she says. “Did you go look at the shop in town that I told you is for rent? You will get a lot of tourists in that area. You will do well there.”
“I do tarot readings online. There’s no rent and plenty of customers.”
“Then do that. Do not go to Taw Ridge. Not in your condition. You cannot think just of yourself now.”
“I’m in the same condition I’ve always been in. I’ll be fine. Tell me something about the women. I can’t find anything about them online.”
My grandmother gets quiet and takes my hand. When I was a child and she was teaching me how to use my psychic abilities, she would hold my hand and I would feel like I was flying. Now I feel lightheaded then my breath catches and I’m coughing. Maybelle ignores me.
“The women were naïve. They trusted everyone. One man wanted blood. It was a game to him. Do not be foolish and go as they once did.”
“Their souls deserve to be free of the place and this earth. Why would you ask me to do otherwise?”
“It will not be as it appears. It is a place of lies. Lies of the living and the dead.”
“Who is the man?”
Maybelle shrugs. “He is masked in the lies. Keep your door locked and one eye open when you sleep.”
Chapter Eight
§
When we get back to my house, I turn over the airport locker key to Maybelle and ask her to read the energy. I also ask her to wait for my return home before doing anything else. She puts the key in her bag and ignores my requests. After I take her home, I call Levi to tell him not to go to the Roswell airport until I get back.
He isn’t happy that I didn’t tell him about the key, but reluctantly agrees not to take Maybelle. I know he would never put her in any danger. He wouldn’t make the same promise about not going himself. I also know Maybelle won’t turn over the key if he plans on going without her. I hope anyway.
He tells me he plans on having a security system installed while I’m gone, and says he’ll be by later to get a key to the house. Like Maybelle, he doesn’t ask my opinion on these things.
I spend the rest of the day packing then me and Mojo head to a hiking trail on the red mesa. I find a shaded spot and get uncomfortable in the hot desert sun. Despite my best efforts, I can’t help but keep one eye open.
I’m not really afraid since I’ve taken shelter from the heat in a hollow and Mojo is keeping watch. It’s just that I’m unnerved by someone who may be close by, and who may mean me harm for what I assume is no other reason than my brief encounter with Anna. That is unless the FBI believes in spirits and fears I’ll learn a few secrets. It’s amazing how paranoid I’ve become over a pig.
I’ve never been afraid in my home or my home town. Las Trebol isn’t small enough to know everyone, but small enough to know someone who know someone who does. The last thing I ever thought would happen is that a ghost would unleashed the living on me. Some of those creatures are worst than poltergeists.
> I give up my quest for guidance and return home. I’ve checked the mailbox twice today and stop again to look inside. No pigs or keys or threats so I go in the house. I light a smudge stick and ask to speak to Anna. The air conditioner’s hum helps me slip into trance. The quiet hum turns into a roar. I resist the urge to question what’s going on. I already know the sound of an airplane’s engine.
∞
It’s seven the next morning when I load the jeep with our things. I spoke to Boshears last night. She seemed calmer, but I could tell she was pacing and maybe even drinking. Usually, I discourage clients from using alcohol and drugs when an unpleasant spirit is present, but in her case, a medicated state may be more advisable.
Today, we’re going as far as Forney, Texas, a little town outside Fort Worth. Neither me or the wolfdog are fond of big cities. Georgia has gotten into the irritating habit of researching my travels. She says she’s going to make a map of all the places I’ve gone so I have it after I settle down. “Something to show my grandchildren,” she’d said with a wink.
She called last night to tell me that Forney is the Antique Capitol of Texas. This morning she called and said if I got a chance to pick her up an antique souvenir. I have about eight hours on the road today and told her I doubted I’d have time for shopping. She was sure the hotel would have coffee cups or tee-shirts. I didn’t get the antique connection, but told her I’d check.
Just as I’m getting into the jeep, I see a car throwing up a dust storm down the long road to my house. I’m almost ready to go back inside and watch it out the window when I see it’s Agustina’s car.
Agustina Cortez is Maybelle’s best friend and a curandero, a healer, and not someone who normally drives like she owns a race car. She gets to the house, slams on the brakes, and the gravel goes flying.
“I fear I miss you,” she says. She’s got a grocery bag and she’s moving fast. “I bring you protection.”
“A lot of protection from the looks of it.” I laugh as she heads to the door and waits for me to open it.
The Taw Ridge Haunting Page 4
