The Taw Ridge Haunting

by Austin, Robin G.

  I need to trust my instincts, which are telling me that none of the women are still here and it’s the spirit of their murderer or someone else who is doing the haunting. The one who is fond of the basement. The one whose identity may be known by the old man. I need to ask the detective about him as well as what the officers put in their report about tonight’s visit. Now that I think about it, maybe Rita is doing her own ghost detective work. Perhaps I’ve judged her too harshly. Probably not.

  This night has turned out to be exciting, but unproductive. I go back to my room and get ready for bed then I check my phone. There’s a text from Levi telling me that the security cameras still haven’t picked up anything suspicious. He’s really too into that task.

  He also says he wants me to call Maybelle and tell her to give him the key to the airport locker. He says Char and Miguel want to check it out. For some reason that he doesn’t share, he’s worried the box may get the attention of airport security if it start smelling up the place.

  Char doesn’t have to be asked twice to go on any adventure, no matter how strange or dangerous. Levi knows she isn’t the type to be taking on a covert mission though. The woman’s appearance is head-turning loud. She’s fond of spandex and six inch heels. Her hair is usually dyed blue, but she likes fire engine red and purple too.

  Miguel has been Levi’s best friend since grade school and even back then, his quest for adventure usually went no farther than his next homework assignment. He’s a veterinarian now with a wife and three kids. A day at the zoo is about as daring as he gets.

  I text Levi back that unless he has a good reason to suspect there are strong odors coming out of the locker, checking it out can wait until I get back. I’m guessing Char is the one who suggested he send that message. It sounds like something she would come up with.

  It’s almost midnight when I turn out the light to go to sleep. I’ve already checked the window twice. I know the old man saw me earlier. I hope he didn’t think he was seeing one of the ladies in the window.

  I fall asleep as soon as my head hits the pillow, or at least I think I do. I also think that peaceful state doesn’t last long. I can hear and feel a presence in the room, but I can’t raise up to see who it is. I want to, but sleep paralysis is making sure I don’t.

  I’ve experienced this incapacitating state since I was a child. Maybelle always told me not to fear it, but to listen and ask my visitor for the message it came to deliver. Easy for her to say. Over the years I’ve gotten better at not freaking out. I try to relax, but I don’t even have that much control over my body.

  I can hear what sounds like dresser drawers being opened and closed. I’m straining to open my eyes and they’re twitching in response.

  Footsteps go from one end of the room to the bathroom. A cabinet slams shut. What do you want? I ask in my mind. Who are you? I fight to move my arms, but they’re as still as a corpse’s.

  The footsteps return and now my visitor is standing by the bed. My eyes are twitching and I get flashes of a tall shadow beside me, looking down, watching me. I think it’s a man. His energy is heavy and commanding. I feel pressure on the mattress as he pushes against it.

  My mind is screaming. Maybelle is telling me not to let fear control me. Let go of it, she says. Only you can give away your power.

  I hear a moan and don’t know if it’s mine or the shadow’s. I do know where the werewolf howl comes from. Mojo is stepping on my head then he’s standing on top of me with his wet nose in my face.

  “Okay, okay,” I say, pushing him back. He thumps me in the head one more time before lying down. The room is spinning or I am as I try to sit up. Before I manage to, I hear a door slam. I’m fully awake now and out of bed and turning on the light.

  Mojo is at the door growling. He doesn’t do that when it’s just my nighttime visitors. I’m not sure what door slammed, but it wasn’t mine. I check the peep hole and see nothing, so I open the door. The wolfdog pushes past me. I step into the hallway.

  I’m not sure what to do. I thought I’d convinced Boshears to make sure I have the floor all to myself. Mojo is sniffing under the doors then he goes back to the room with a grunt directed at me.

  I stand in the hallway another minute then follow him. He’s already asleep. I’m wide awake and confused. I hook the back of a chair under the door knob and walk to the window. A half moon is shining over the fountain making sparks fly when the water falls. I’m about to get back into bed when I see it.

  The figure is tall and a big blob of black with hunched shoulders. He’s walking– more like a jerky floating movement– to the garden. For some peculiar reason, the first thought in my muddled mind is that Seggren paid me a visit. But the blob isn’t solid and the man isn’t dead.

  I watch it until it goes through the brush and disappears.

  Chapter Twenty Five

  §

  It’s already eleven when I hear knocking on the door. Last night, I made several failed attempts to contact the spirit that paid me a visit. Now I can’t wake up, or wouldn’t if someone wasn’t trying to beat the door down.

  After checking the peep hole, I open the door a few inches and tell the housekeeper that I don’t need her services today. She’s happy about that. Soon, I hear the elevator and look back out to see the housekeeper leaving. If there is someone else staying on this floor, which I seriously doubt, she’s already cleaned the room.

  Boshears on the other hand isn’t happy at all. She left a message about my missing our eight o’clock meeting. She said she’ll see me promptly at six. I’m irritated at her then at myself. I have questions that I want her to answer, especially about last night.

  I get ready for my day and head straight for the old garden. I want to see if my visitor from last night left me any clues. I don’t expect to find footsteps.

  What was once the garden is now about five acres of weeds. The closest thing to it is a barely visible warehouse surrounded by a chain link fence. I walk around looking for footprints and as expected, there aren’t any.

  I go back to the hotel and stop at the front desk. The clerk confirms that no one else is staying on the thirteenth floor. I’m about to go for coffee when I hear angry shouts down the hall. The clerk gives me a panicked grin and lowers his eyes just before a door slams. Aubrey stomps by us without a word. Her face is bright red and her fists are clenched. No one follows so I assume she was on the phone. She walks right out the front door.

  “Is Ms. Boshears in?” I don’t want to talk to her, I’m just being nosey.

  “She’ll be back around four.” The clerk still has a deer in the headlights grin.

  I go outside to see if Aubrey is around. I don’t want to talk to her either, but I’m curious and concerned once again about her hostility. I didn’t get any sense that her professionalism that first day was an act. Something has brought a demon to the surface. I wouldn’t mind knowing what that something is.

  She’s already halfway down the street when I see her. It would take a broom ride to move that fast. She stops and goes into a building. It looks like she went into the Dirty Dog. When I drive down the block, I’m sure that’s where she went. Hopefully, she won’t attempt to drown the demon. Alcohol will only make it stronger.

  I find a sandwich shop and review my notes for my meeting with Detective Radford at one. I don’t know how I’m going to bring up the subject of searching for bodies in the garden, but my late night visitor makes me think if the police haven’t already, they should.

  No one bats an eye when I bring Mojo into the police station. Radford keeps me waiting for twenty minutes. When he finally comes out, he doesn’t look happy to see me.

  “Jack Raven?”

  “Detective Radford?”

  He smiles until he catches himself. “Yeah, back this way.”

  I follow him down a long hallway that is lined with closed doors. Radford is tall and muscular with wavy blond hair that could use a comb and a bright blue aura that is betraying his cold exte
rior.

  He leads me to an office and points to a chair in front of the desk then he retrieves a single file from a drawer. There is no way even one percent of the murder investigation is in that file.

  “Are you enjoying your stay in Taw Ridge?”

  I didn’t expect the question, and I don’t like the sarcasm in his voice. “It’s a little humid,” I say.

  He’s got his hand over the file like he fears I’m going to jump up and grab it. “I would think someone in your line of work wouldn’t come out during the day.”

  We lock eyes. “Why’s that?” I already know where he’s going with a question like that.

  “I thought ghosts only came out at night.”

  “You watch too many cartoons,” I say with a straight face.

  He looks down to hide another smile. “There’s nothing in the file about ghosts. So if there’s nothing else I can help you with, I’ll walk you back to the exit.”

  “Wait a minute. I’ve come all this way, and I do have some questions you can answer that have everything to do with the security of the Herman Hotel, including the incident that officers investigated last night.”

  His eyebrows twitch then squeeze together. “I wasn’t aware of an incident last night.”

  “The clerk on duty called the police after he heard noises in the basement. I’d like to get a copy of that report.” As soon as the words are out of my mouth, I remember Rita. I meant to go down and try to find her this morning.

  “I’ll have to check on that,” Radford says. He’s looking a little concerned.

  “I spoke with Butch Seggren yesterday and—

  “You did?” He looks angry now then opens the skinny file and starts flipping through some papers.

  “Yes, I did. He didn’t have much to say. However, as I was about to leave, he told me he had two words for me.” I’ve got Radford’s attention now.

  “What were the words?”

  “Crawl space.” I pause to see if he’s going to take me seriously. He looks like he is. “I asked Ellen Boshears about the hotel having a crawl space. She denied knowing anything about one. I’ve checked the twelfth and thirteenth floors and didn’t find an access panel. I’d like to know if the investigators’ reports mention one.”

  Radford’s deep in thought, and I sense he’s thinking a cold case is warming up.

  “I’d also like to know the estimated time of the murders, the names and room numbers of each of the women, if any of the clerks were ever suspects, and if the garden area behind the hotel was searched.”

  The detective is staring at me now. I was hoping that if I spit out all my inquiries in one batch, he wouldn’t have time to mull each over before answering. I think I was wrong about that.

  He closes the skinny file and leans back in his chair. “Why these type of questions if you’re here to chase ghosts? I assume they’re part of the reopening entertainment.”

  “Detective, I don’t care what you think about my profession anymore than you care what I think about yours.” Radford flinches for the blink of an eye. “But like you, I have a job to do. And my bet is you’ve seen a thing or two in your own profession that you’d prefer to keep to yourself.”

  Radford raises an eyebrow and for the first time, he relaxes a little.

  “Three women were brutally murdered in that hotel. I’m sure you know better than most what it took to do something like that. I could care less if you believe me and I won’t try to convince you of anything, but I know something is going on in that hotel– on the thirteenth floor as well as the basement. And probably in the garden behind it.”

  I’ve really got to remember to look for Rita when I get back.

  “I met an old man by the fountain behind the hotel the first night I was here. He looked like someone who might live on the streets. He was dark skinned, maybe five-eight, thin, black hair, probably in his mid-sixties, and missing two fingers on his left hand.”

  Radford is nodding like he’s actually interested now.

  “The lights in three of the rooms on the thirteenth floor were turned on. He told me the rooms were being checked for the ladies’ arrivals. Nobody was staying up there that night. I’ve been keeping an eye out for him. I thought I saw him by the fountain from my room last night, but he was gone before I got there. If you think you might know who he is, I’d appreciate you letting me know where I can find him.”

  “There are a few street people who hang around the park down on Mason Street,” Radford says. “I wouldn’t recommend going down there by yourself though. Even in a small town like Taw Ridge, there are those desperate enough to do anything to get their next fix.” He glances at Mojo.

  “I’m never alone,” I say. “So can you help me out with a little information from the file?”

  “You still haven’t told me why any of what you’re asking about is relevant to the… the stuff you have on your website.”

  “The reason is simple and something we have in common, Detective. When a person is murdered, we both know the murderer must be held accountable. We both have to figure out what happened in order to make things as right as they will ever be again.”

  Radford shrugs and almost rolls his eyes.

  “Difference is though, you work for the victims’ memory, the families, and society. I work for the spirits who’ll wait an eternity for whatever it is they want, though not always peacefully.”

  Chapter Twenty Six

  §

  Radford actually shivered when I said spirits don’t always wait peacefully. He didn’t need to know that the women probably aren’t the ones doing the haunting.

  I listened as his thoughts slammed around in his mind. Some of those thoughts were of compassion and justice. Others were of accolades, and I don’t blame him for that. He finally told me the files were in the storage room, and he needed time to retrieve them. I told him I was running out of time, and he agreed to have them available sometime tomorrow.

  That was less progress than I had intended to make, but Radford did give me a copy of the report from last night as well as the three women’s names and room numbers. Just as the clerk had said, the officers concluded the disturbance was due to rodents. I just hope one of them wasn’t mine.

  I sit in the jeep still parked at the police station and look at the note with the names. Miriam Dodd was right about the first woman: Janet Onha, Room 1301. Kay Lynch was in 1303 and Diana Chasse was in 1306. The same rooms where the lights came on my first night here. Radford didn’t provide any other information about the women. I pull out my laptop and search for Lynch and Chasse.

  Thank the Great Spirit for obituaries. I find both and see that Chasse’s funeral was in the next town over. Better still I find Diana Chasse’s sister, Carol Taine, who was listed as a contact. Fifteen years later, I doubt she still has the number, but I call it anyway. A cheerful woman answers and confirms she’s Carol Taine.

  I give her my security work story and the hotel’s name. I can hear her breathing but nothing else. Then she tells me the police didn’t tell her the hotel had reopened. I wonder why she thought they would so I ask. She laughs and agrees they wouldn’t. She says she hasn’t heard anything about the case for years.

  “Do you have any information about Diana’s murder?” Her voice is so quiet and sad, my breath catches.

  “I’m investigating what happened so it doesn’t happen again. Can I ask you a few questions about what the police told you?”

  “I’d talk to just about anyone if I thought it would help find my sister’s murderer.”

  Her words surprise me. I would have thought she would still be raging at Seggren. “So you don’t think Butch Seggren was the person who committed the crimes?”

  “Pffh. That man was too lazy to do all the work those murders took. I told the police and the DA that. My sister and the other two women were butchered, chopped to pieces. The DA was an idiot for taking that case to trial.”

  “Do you have any opinions on who did kill your sist
er and the other two women?”

  “If I did, I’d shout it from the highest mountain. Are you going to try and find out?”

  She sounds like she’s on the verge of tears. I cringe about my lies, but keep telling them. “Like I said, I’m just trying to make sure it doesn’t happen again. Can I buy you a cup of coffee for a few minutes of your time?”

  Carol says she lives about two hours north of Taw Ridge and doesn’t get off work until ten. I hesitate but only for a second. I hope the woman knows more than she’s sharing over the phone. I also know seeing her in person will give me more insight about whatever she has to say. We agree to meet at a coffee shop.

  My searches for anyone related to Kay Lynch turn up nothing at all. I should have asked Carol about her family who I assume she met at Seggren’s trial. I make a few notes for our meeting tonight and head back to the hotel. I have a rat to find.

  Chills run up my spine when I walk into the hotel. The lobby is as empty as it’s been since I’ve been here, but there’s no one at the front desk and that’s unusual. I start to go to the elevator, but I’m curious, both about the missing clerk and the weird vibes I’m getting.

  I walk by the front desk to the hallway that leads to Boshears’ and Aubrey’s offices, and farther down, the basement. Aubrey’s door is open and her office is empty. Boshears isn’t due back until four, another forty minutes. I knock on her door and turn the knob. Her office is silent and locked. I keep going.

  When I get to the basement door, I see that it’s open, barely a crack. I hear a voice. I hate to be nosey, but I’m nervous. I’ve got to find Rita and put her back in her plastic container. I doubt she can be trusted.