He slips his gun into his holster and runs his fingers around his neck. I want to tell him there isn’t any blood, but I don’t want to bring blood into the conversation.
“Name?” he says, pulling out a notepad.
“Jack Raven.” I give standing up straight a try.
“Let’s go inside and verify that you’re working here. Are you injured?”
“I slipped on the stairs,” I say, as I lead the way, slowly, to the front of the hotel. The kid at the desk verifies my story and tells the cop that I’m staying in Room 1301. The cop was writing things down until he got to that little detail. He flips his notepad closed and tells the clerk to secure the service door. He isn’t interested in me anymore.
When we get upstairs, I stop to get a bucket of ice. I’m in a bad mood now and it’s reminding me that I still don’t have key cards to the other rooms. I also forgot to ask Boshears about the copies again. It’s good that I’m in no mood for either tonight.
I grab a beer from the mini-bar and sit on a bag of ice while leaning against the headboard. With my eyes closed, I try to get a sense of the energy in the room. I’m falling asleep until I hear a scratching noise. Mojo is sitting in the middle of the bed staring at Rita who’s on the dresser. The scratching has stopped, but the rat doll doesn’t look innocent.
“Knock it off or you’re going back in the box. Regardless of what you were told, I can handle this situation myself. The last thing I need is you to fend off the spirits. That’s not the way it’s done because they’ll only come back when we’re gone.”
The rat doll’s eyes are glued to me. I get up to put her on a chair so I don’t have to look at her. Then I turn out the light and stand at the window. The fountain has little lights that form a sparkling circle. There’s enough light to see anyone close by. After a few minutes, I’m sure there’s no one there to look at, so I go to the hallway.
Starting at one end, I close my eyes and slowly walk to the other end while pausing at each of the six doors. The air is cool, but the chill I felt the first time I was here is gone. There’s a heaviness instead, whose I can’t say, but I don’t think it’s a spirit that wants my help.
I have to assume the women never saw the end coming. Being clueless about a violent end can leave a spirit both confused and angry, even vengeful. That last one is just how I’d be, but I’m not feeling any of those things.
I place my hand on the door of the last room, 1306, and close my eyes. I feel pushed away with an urgent need to run and… what? Excitement. I get a shooting pain in my arm and jerk my hand away. I think I just sensed the emotion of the murderer. As quickly as it came, the sensation is gone. I’m sure it was just residual energy. Unfortunately, smudging the place will only set off the sprinklers.
I walk towards the east end and stop in the middle. The only way the murderer could have butchered all three women in their beds was if they didn’t wake up– at least not long enough to scream.
Somehow he managed to get in their rooms without making a sound and kill each with the first strike. That would have taken some planning and even some skill. Plus keys, and how would a gardener have gotten the keys?
Between the third and fourth rooms is an alcove with a window. If it was light outside, I’m sure I could see the field where the hotel’s garden once was. I’m sure if I was out there right now, I could see someone standing at this window.
I scan the grounds for the old man again. He’s still not hanging around. I’m letting his words distract me. Seems he was just telling a good ghost story to entertain a guest.
I go back to my room, lie on the bed in the dark, and close my eyes. I visualize a woman sleeping in a bed in this room. Then I picture a figure outside the door. He slips a key into the old lock. The metal makes a light clank. The door opens smoothly, but with a squeak, and light from the hallway sprays across the room.
He steps in and closes the door, but only far enough to still see the woman. Or he sees her in the light from the window and closes the door– either way, another squeak. He walks to the bed, looks at her sleeping soundly then swipes a knife across her throat.
Hum, there are a few problems with this little rendition of mine. The women were either heavy sleepers, or all three had taken something to sleep and didn’t hear the door or see the light or feel someone standing next to them. What are the odds of that? Logic is confusing me, so I decide to try the direct approach.
I sit up, wince from my bruised tailbone, and look around. The room is dark except for the light from the window and a sliver of light from under the door. I say a quick prayer and close my eyes.
“If there is a spirit in this room, please know that I’m here to help you. I’ve been asked to come here to help you crossover. It’s time for you to go or tell me why you feel the need to stay. Speak and I will hear you. Please make your presence known.”
It’s so quiet I can hear myself breathing. There’s no temperature change, no energy shift, no vision. The heaviness I felt earlier is long gone. I’m again wondering if it is the three women who are haunting the place, or even one of them.
“Give me a message and I’ll understand it.” I’m waiting and listening and falling asleep. I let myself go in the hopes that I’ll get something as I drift off.
I don’t get a single clue, but I do fall asleep. When I wake up, it’s after midnight. I get ready for bed in a fog. I check out the window one more time. No one is at the fountain or looking up at me.
I think I’m sound asleep when I hear the elevator. I sit up and listen. Mojo is at the door sniffing under it. Someone is on the thirteenth floor.
I get up and tip-toe to the door to look out the peep hole. I can’t see anyone. I know I heard the elevator, but it could have been a guest who pressed the wrong floor. Or maybe Boshears hired a new security guard. She promised that no guests would be staying on the floor with me.
I still don’t see anything out the peep hole, and I don’t hear anyone walking around. Mojo has stopped sniffing, but now he wants me to open the door. Easy for him.
“False alarm,” I tell him and start towards the bed when I hear a slam. I ease the door open to look down the hall. The wolfdog pushes by me. He walks to the end of the hallway– Room 1306– and stands at the door in ghost pose.
Chapter Nineteen
§
After staring at the door to Room 1306 for a minute or two, I went down the hall and knocked on it. Based on the ghost tracker’s ghost pose, I didn’t expect anyone would open that door and no one did. Another few minutes were spent trying to make contact with the spirit, but it wasn’t communicating. It was past one when I finally went back to my room and fell asleep.
My alarm woke me at seven. I ignored it then remembered Boshears’ eight o’clock meeting. If she hadn’t looked half possessed yesterday, I would have demanded a later time. I’m not a morning person.
I’m taking my time crossing the lobby on the way to Boshears’ office. I see Aubrey who is rushing away from me, but not fast enough.
“Good morning, Aubrey,” I yell. She stops with her back to me. “I’d like to get those copies from you this morning.”
She turns around and her lips are pressed so tight, they’re drained of blood. “That’s not possible. I hope to have them copied by the end of the day, but I can’t make any promises. The guests come first.”
By the looks of things, me and the ghosts are the only guests in the place. “That won’t do. Please return them to me and I’ll review them in the basement.”
“Please discuss any concerns and requests you have with Ms. Boshears. I take my orders from her.”
Aubrey doesn’t wait for my reply and just as well. I need coffee. The woman at the front desk who heard everything gives me a goofy grin and tells me Boshears is in the dining room.
As before, she’s the only person in the room, and once again, she’s sitting at the far end. She watches me as I approach, and my eyes never leave hers. I get a weak smile as I look down a
t her. The effort of this little game we’re playing is still exhausting.
“Good morning.”
I nod and sit down then pour a cup of coffee and try not to act as angry as I am.
“I understand there was an incident last night.”
“Which one?” I sip my coffee in order to keep my mouth shut.
Boshears shuffles in her seat. “With the police. I understand the service door was unlocked.”
“It was.” I refill my cup. “Have you hired new security guards?”
“No. Was there another incident I should know about?”
I’m not in the mood to get in a better mood, but the coffee is at least waking me up. I start to tell her about the visitor in Room 1306 last night, but I can’t get those copies out of my head.
“Yes. I’ve had it with Aubrey’s attitude. I like working with her even less than she likes working with me. I need the records I gave her. If she doesn’t have time to copy them, someone else should. I asked her to return them to the basement, and she informed me that I’m to make my concerns and requests known to you. Apparently she didn’t get the email that informed her she’s supposed to be helping me.”
“She’s very busy.”
“With an empty hotel? I don’t think so, and I don’t care what her problem is. The delay is costing me time. I also requested the key cards to all the rooms on the thirteenth floor and you agreed to that. I was told by your clerk that I was only authorized to have the card to the room where I’m staying.”
I’m on a roll and can’t shut up.
“You also said that I’d have the entire floor to myself. Last night, someone was on the thirteenth floor. I heard the elevator and someone slammed the door to Room 1306. Obviously, you don’t have enough guests to book those rooms. You’re zero for three in your efforts to cooperate.”
The waiter brought food while I was ranting, and scurried away. Boshears is rubbing her temple.
I butter an English muffin and shove it in my mouth.
“I’ll make sure that you have the key cards as soon as we finish breakfast. I’ll see to it myself that the copies are ready this afternoon. And I’ll follow up with the clerk on who might have been on the thirteenth floor.” Boshears reaches for her coffee cup. Her hand wavers and she pulls back to rub her temple.
I ignore her and load up my plate.
“I wanted to discuss your plans for today. If you don’t mind.”
“My plan was to review the records this morning then drive out to Chapin Road to see if I can find Butch Seggren.”
“Are you serious?” Boshears’ stern voice is back. The temple rubbing is nothing but her Miss Scarlett act. I’m out of pity.
“Very serious.”
She leans back a fraction of an inch and gets meek again. “Is that really necessary? What does he have to do with this? He’s never even stayed here.”
“Well if it was him who murdered the three women, he stayed here a little while. What’s your objection? I mean other than not wanting me to do my job.”
“He was found not guilty, and I’ve already told you that I want to minimize exposure.”
“Even if Seggren is innocent, he may have information I need. And I don’t buy your wanting to minimize exposure. You hired me to do a publicity stunt. Seems to me that exposure is exactly what you wanted.”
“My attorney is advising me to do otherwise. And if it gets out that you’re talking to that man, people will be talking about the murders. That’s the last thing I want.”
“Then why keep me here?”
“As I said before, I’m reevaluating my publicity plans.”
“Problem is that I didn’t bill you for reevaluation time. As I said before, I’m telling people that I’m doing private security work for the hotel. In a supernatural way, I am. Either way, my efforts are good for the hotel, and it looks like it could use all the help it can get.”
Boshears cringes. “The attorney of the women who are suing me was on the news last night.” She takes a single bite of eggs and pushes her plate away. “They’re going to ruin me.”
I ignore her. “I want the police records too. I’ll pick up a form for you to sign later today.” Boshears looks like she’s going to be sick. I don’t believe her attorney is the only reason she’s changed her mind on her ghost busting publicity scheme.
“I need to know what’s going on here. I need to find out what happened so I can understand why the women, or at least one of them, continues to stay. Or if the haunting is being done by another spirit, such as the murderer.”
Boshears smirks and sips her coffee.
“I don’t care that you don’t believe in ghosts now or ever. I know they exist. I also know that you just don’t walk into a place and tell them to get out. If that were the case, Aubrey is more than qualified to handle the task.”
I pause to watch Boshears stew. Instead, she closes her eyes and nods her head like she agrees with me.
“What happened to the once living and the reasons they stay are important to them, so they’re important to me. I’m going out to Chapin Road today. I’m getting a release from the police department for your signature today. Unless you have anything else to say, I’m going back to my room to get ready to leave. Please have the copies and the other five key cards at the front desk by the time I return this afternoon.”
Boshears is staring at me. She finally nods her head. I grab a muffin and walk out of the room.
∞
Chapin Road is twenty miles out of town. It’s a long country road with houses set far back and surrounded by acres of land. I’m afraid I’m just wasting more time looking for an old shack when the road narrows and the open acreage turns into woods. Another few miles and I come to an old mailbox with letters painted in red: B Seggren. I turn down a dirt road and take my time as I watch for No Trespassing signs or someone who’s not inclined to post a sign.
The first thing I see is a garden. An old collie lying on the porch gets Mojo’s attention. I stop with plenty of room to make a sharp u-turn and wait for the door to open. After the collie barks a few times, it does.
I fully expect to see the old man I met at the fountain, but it’s not him. I step out of the jeep and stay next to the open door. “Mr. Seggren?”
The man is tall and thin with wisps of gray hair and a beard that’s grown in patches over a weathered face.
“Who wants to know?”
“My name is Jack Raven. I’m doing security work for the Herman Hotel. I understand you used to work there. I was hoping to talk to you for a few minutes.”
He laughs and shakes his head. “Why don’t you say what you’re really here for and stop your lying.”
“I’m aware that you were charged with the murders and that you were found not guilty. I’m not here to accuse or retry you. The hotel has reopened. I’m here to learn more about what happened so it doesn’t happen again. I understand you were the gardener. I was hoping you could give me more information you might have had as an employee.”
Seggren is staring past me through the trees. I glance over my shoulder to see if he’s looking at someone.
“What’s the name again?”
“Jack Raven.”
He chuckles and rubs his chin. “I’ll give you a few minutes and answer what questions I feel like answering. Before you ask, one thing you should know right off is that it’s too late to arrest the person who killed those women.”
Chapter Twenty
§
Seggren watches me as I walk to the porch. He motions for me to sit. I’m grateful he didn’t ask me to come inside.
He doesn’t move as I step onto the porch. I can smell alcohol on his breath. I can feel that breath as I slip by him to sit in a chair. I’m glad I left the window down in the jeep, even though Mojo doesn’t seem the least bit interested in what’s going on.
“What did you say you were doing for the hotel?”
“Private security,” I say, taking my notepad from my bag. �
�Do you mind?” I ask, holding it up.
He shrugs. “What are you really doing for the hotel?”
“What do you mean?” I look him in the eye. The old man’s body shows the hazards of physical labor, and the etchings in his face make him look frail. My guess is that he’s battling more than one demon.
“You’re here asking about a fifteen year old murder. Did you really drive all the way out here because you think the man who murdered those women plans on coming back and killing three more?” He laughs and spits across from me.
“I’m assessing general security measures in the hotel. Fifteen years ago that security was breached. I want to make sure whatever happened doesn’t happen again. Since you just said the murderer is dead, I can cross him off my list. How the murders were allowed to occur is what interests me.”
Seggren laughs again then has a coughing fit. He waves his hand and goes inside. When he comes out, he’s got a bottle of whiskey and two cups. His cup is already filled. “Medicine,” he tells me. I decline his offer. “Cancer,” he says. “I don’t plan on going out of this world with a clear mind.”
“Sorry to hear you’re sick. I do appreciate your time.”
He nods and relaxes as he sips his medicine.
“Want to tell me who murdered the women?”
“Nope. If I did, the police would be banging at my door and taking what little time I have left. They weren’t interested when I was willing to talk, and it’s too late now.”
“So you told the police you knew who killed the women?”
“Nope. Tried to, but they already decided it was me. Like I said, it’s too late now. Man’s dead and buried. If you ask me anything more about him, I’m done talking to you. If you tell the cops I know a thing or two, I’ll call you a liar and a thief.”
“Good enough. Just tell me this: how did he pull it off. I mean one murder is hard enough. Three right next to each other? That doesn’t seem possible.”
The Taw Ridge Haunting Page 10
