“I understand Milwaukee Light is popular in these parts.”
He bristled. “We have other beers. What’ll it be?”
After ordering Milwaukee Lights, I inquired if I could ask him some questions.
“Well, little lady, that depends. What do you have on your mind?”
I introduced myself in a down-home manner, at least as much as I could muster, and told him about our predicament.
The barkeep didn’t bend. “Lady, I don’t know anything about all that nonsense.”
I had enough of his surly attitude. “Mister, the police in Wimberley sent me here and said there were several older gentlemen who might help me with this. You, of course, are not one of those seasoned gentlemen, but I’m hoping you can tell me who they are. I really, really need to talk to them. This matter has already caused one death and I don’t want to be number two. Got it?”
“You don’t have to be rude, lady. If you’d told me the police were involved, I would have told you that one of those men is sitting right around the corner. His name is Earl Sturner and he knows everything about everything that’s ever happened on Devil’s Backbone. Why don’t you take your beers and go talk to him?”
I smiled trying to dilute my attack. We picked up our libations and marched around the corner to pick Mr. Sturner’s brain. The old-timer was drinking his beer and playing dominoes with a younger man. As we approached, we knew right away we’d have to win his sympathy if we hoped to get anywhere with him.
The man looked like he just stepped off a horse in the Old West—his boots were way past repair and his hat brim had been folded so many times it resembled an accordion pleat.
“Mr. Sturner?”
“Yessum, who’s asking?”
Cathy and I introduced ourselves and tried to explain what we needed from him.
“It’s this way, Mr. Sturner. The Wimberley police thought you might help in this investigation.”
“Don’t know what I can do. I just sit here playing dominoes all day and drinking my beer. I don’t know nothin’ about any murder.”
“I guess I didn’t put my problem right. What I need from you is anything you know about ghosts in this area.”
“Well, why didn’t you say that, pretty lady? I know just about everything there is to know about ghosts. I’ve seen them, my parents, and their parents before them, saw them—they’re here or at least used to be.”
“Used to be. No one has seen them in awhile?”
“Well, I’ll tell you it’s like this. We used to have this fellow, everyone swore he was a Confederate soldier that hung around here all the time, but no one has seen him lately.”
“Can you tell me his story?”
“Don’t rightly know his exact story. I can only tell you what my folks told me and what others say.”
“Good enough.”
“The story goes that this young feller was supposed to marry a young woman who lived outside Wimberley. She was a beautiful little thing, kinda like you, darlin’.”
The old gentleman might be old, but he was still a charmer.
“Thank you, kind sir.”
“Well, the young feller served in the Confederate army and the day they were supposed to get married, he was killed. The story goes that the young woman committed suicide and her folks moved away. I don’t know too much about them.”
“Do you know exactly where they lived?”
“I don’t, but I have a buddy who does if he can remember. He’s having some trouble lately.”
“Could we talk to him?”
“Well, ma’am, he’s usually here by now. Why don’t you suck on that beer a little more and maybe he’ll show up.”
I knew better than to rush the old-timer. “I’d appreciate it if you’d fill me in on some of the ghost sightings around here.”
“I can tell you this place here is not anything like it used to be—most of the old guys who shot up the bar are dead now. ‘Course you’re talking about a long time before that, I imagine. By the way, some people think the ghosts aren’t soldiers at all but Indians who met their maker in this area.”
“What do you think?”
“Don’t have an opinion, but my buddy will—he always has opinions.” Sturner snorted enjoying his own joke.
“What’s your friend’s name?”
“Riley—Arthur Riley, and speak of the devil, here he comes now.”
They turned to see a man so bent over he looked like he wouldn’t be on this earth much longer. The gray hair flowing half way down his back was tied in a ponytail and his clothes looked like a Buffalo hunter’s. Sturner didn’t miss our looks.
“He’s okay, ladies, just a little rough around the edges. If you want information on the old days, Riley’s your man.”
He motioned his friend to the table. “Join us, old man, and talk to these pretty ladies.”
Riley motioned the barkeep for a beer and sat down without saying a word.
“Mr. Riley, I’m Janie Pitts and this is Cathy Schubert. I have a bed and breakfast just outside Wimberley on old Taylor Road.
There’s some speculation a Confederate soldier ghost is on my property and I hope you can help me.”
“Lady, I don’t mess in other people’s business—learned that a long time ago.”
Sturner spoke up. “Riley, don’t be so hard to get along with. These ladies just need to know some things that went on around here and I told them you were the only one left who knew anything. Give ‘em an ear.”
Riley scrutinized the women. He didn’t trust anyone who didn’t wear buckskins.
“Where the dang blast is my beer?”
I got up and walked around the corner to the bar and came back with his beer.
“Here you go. Now, talk to us.”
“You’re pretty bossy for a woman.” He wiped his dangling mustache with the back of his hand. “Okay, I needed my beer. What you want to know and why?”
I moved my chair toward him.
“Stay right where you are, lady. I don’t like folks getting too close.”
“Sorry. To answer your questions, the why part is easy. Like I told you, I own this bed and breakfast and I’ve had a ghost with me for several years…”
“Then what’s the problem?”
“Mr. Riley, let me finish.
“The ghost I’m talking about is what you would call a friendly ghost. He likes to play pranks like moving food in and out of the refrigerator or turning lights on after I turn them off—things like that, you know?”
“Yep, we have that here.”
“Okay, I named him Henry.”
“Why Henry?”
I squirmed in my chair. I had to stay patient if I was going to get anywhere with Riley. “I just like the name. Anyway, my guests have been telling me about hearing noises and different things on the second floor. I thought it was their imagination, but then Miss Schubert stayed in the Honeymoon Suite and …”
Riley and Sturner leaned their chairs back on two legs and guffawed.
“Missy, I’ve heard everything now—a woman staying in a Honeymoon Suite by herself. What’s the world coming to?”
“Glad you two think it’s so funny, but the fact is, the bed and breakfast was booked up except for the Suite when Miss Schubert needed a room. So, I gave her the Honeymoon Suite and that’s that. Actually, she stayed in the room only part of one night and got scared out of her wits. That brings us to hiring a ghost buster out of San Antonio to make this new ghost disappear.”
“Lady, lady, you should know better than that.”
“I guess I should have called a priest, but …”
“Didn’t mean that, but there are ways to live with certain ghosts. We’ve done it around here for years.”
“Well, I didn’t want to. All that doesn’t matter. What I need to know from you is a little history on the house I bought.”
“Where did you say it was?”
“On Taylor Road, not far off the main highway going into Wimbe
rley. I know that no one lived in it for fifteen years or so before I bought it.”
Riley untied his hair, shook it out, and retied it. “I know the place.”
“Can you tell us something about it.”
“Depends what’s happened there.”
My patience wore thin. I was blunt. “The ghost buster is dead.”
“Dead? No surprise.”
“Please, Mr. Riley. The police are at my place and I’m trying to find out something about our intruder. Why are you not surprised?”
“Here’s the thing. This is the story that’s come down the pike. Back in the Civil War days, a family named Williams lived in that house. They had a beauty of a daughter and all the young men in the county were after her. Her old daddy kept a tight rein on this filly and wanted to make sure no one got too close. Then, one night a wounded soldier came to their door looking for shelter and help.”
“What was he doing in Texas?”
“If you want to hear the story, keep quiet. The soldier was hurt real bad and the gal’s old man, being a Confederate sympathizer and all that, took him in and his wife and daughter nursed him back to health. This was the closest his daughter had ever been to any man except her father and she fell in love. Guess I don’t have to say, he fell in love with her pretty face right off the bat. Anyway, I don’t rightly remember why he was separated from his unit, but he wasn’t a deserter. So, after he was strong again, he announced he had to leave but not before asking old man Williams for his daughter’s hand in marriage.
Cathy and I exchanged looks.
“Why are you looking at each other like you’re savoring a hot biscuit covered with gravy?”
“Did they marry before he left?”
“No. Old Williams wanted him to get out of the army before his daughter got all tied up with him. So, the young man left promising to be back in the spring. I think all that lovey-dovey stuff happened in the fall. The war went downhill for the South after that and the young feller never came back.”
“Has he been seen or heard around this tavern?”
“My dad said he never saw him but others did. I can’t rightly say if it was him or not, but whoever it was stayed around for a few months and then was gone like a puff from an old steam engine.”
“What happened to the Williams family?”
“The young beauty pined away. Her parents did everything they could to find out what happened to the soldier, but it was like he never existed. The girl started staying in her room all the time and finally one day, old man Williams opened her door and found her hanging from the rafters with a sheet tied around her neck.”
“That’s terrible.”
“Yep, and I’m sure it was terrible what happened to the young feller but that’s life. Now, this brings us to what happened at your place. Would you tell me why the two of you were looking at each other like I just discovered the Ten Commandments.”
I smiled my warmest, tantalizing smile.
“I tell you, young lady, that’s probably the same way the young Williams girl looked at her sweetheart. You better be careful. Tell me what happened.”
“Well, Miss Schubert and I overslept the morning after Mrs. Banish stayed in the room hoping to make contact with our ghost.”
“Don’t imagine that was hard.”
“Evidently not. To go on, when we got up and went to the Honeymoon Suite, the door was open and there was no Mrs. Banish. However, I noticed the imprint of a body on the bed and a wedding ring on the pillow.”
“Wedding ring you say?”
“Yes. Now, Mrs. Banish was a rather large woman and this ring was very, very small. I’m fairly petite but I couldn’t begin to fit it on my finger. Anyway, there was engraving on the inside, but because it was so old, it was hard to make out.”
“Could you see any letters?”
“I know the name began with an ‘L’ and ended with an ‘a’. Other than that, I couldn’t tell.”
“Well, Missy, what would you say if I told you the Williams girl’s name was Laura?”
“Mr. Riley, don’t play with me. Was it really?”
Riley and Sturner were enjoying this—more fun than they’d had in years. “Yes, it really was. Her name was Laura Williams. Maybe your ghost is searching for his sweetie. Was there anything else in the room?”
“As a matter of fact, we heard something hit the floor and it turned out to be a button from a military uniform.”
“Dadnabit—it’s him. That’s great.”
I puckered my lips. “What’s so great about it?”
“Lady, don’t be dumb. The feller’s come back for his bride, he wants to give her the ring in the room where they first kissed.”
“Mr. Riley, I think you’re getting carried away here. How do you know the Honeymoon Suite is that particular room?”
Riley looked at Sturner and they both shook their heads. “Women these days don’t have any romance in their bones—they just look at life in black in white.”
“That’s not true, but it doesn’t matter in this case. The bottom line is we have a dead woman on our hands who just might have been killed by your young soldier.”
Riley stood up with his empty beer bottle in hand. “I’m going in for another beer and I don’t have anything else to say to you.”
I rushed after him. “I’m sorry. If our ghost is this young soldier, what do I do?”
“How the hell do I know? Maybe you can get another ghost buster, maybe you can get a priest, maybe the police can help you—I’m done here.”
I shot a pleading look at Sturner who had sauntered in the bar not wanting to miss the fun.
“Don’t give me those doe eyes, Miss Pitts. This is your party with Riley and you got him all stirred up.”
“Mr. Riley, tell me this and I’ll leave you alone. Why did this young soldier hang around this bar when my house is the one his sweetheart lived in?”
“Can’t rightly answer that. Look, little lady, I don’t have any answers for you. I’ve told you all I know.”
Cathy nudged Janie’s arm. “Well, thank you—you’ve been a big help.”
As we made our way to the car, we were more uncomfortable than ever.
“Janie, what do you think?”
“I think we have a man, or rather a ghostly man, searching for his love and he doesn’t realize she’s dead too.”
“Ohhh, that’s bad. What do we do now?”
“I think we need to go back to the house and talk to the officer who told us about this tavern. After that, who knows?”
“Hold on a minute. I may be nuts, but I think there’s something old Riley is not telling us.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Look at those two old geezers. They’ve got their heads together like they’re dissecting something very tasty and whatever it is, we need to know about it.”
“Cathy, you may be certifiable, but I’m with you. Let’s head back.”
Riley saw the women coming and ducked into the main part of the bar. Sturner was too slow getting up.
“Ladies, we don’t know anything else. You best be on your way. Like I said, you’ve got ole Riley all stirred up.”
I moved quickly into the tavern where Riley was head to head with the bartender.
“I’d like to hear what you have to say too, Mr. Riley.”
“Lady, get on your way.”
“I will as soon as you finish your story. Obviously there’s more—give or the cops will come and get the rest.”
Riley eyes shrunk in his head. Then, he let out a laugh too loud for his frail body.
“Okay, you got me. I thought you and the cops could have a little fun figuring this out, but if you don’t want to solve the puzzle, I’ll give you a little more.”
I perched on the stool next to the old gentleman. I touched his arm surprised at its thinness.
“Mr. Riley, this is a serious matter and we need all the help you can give us. If you don’t want to talk to me, our police frien
ds will be around.”
“No need to get your pretty backside in a twit. I don’t know much more except for rumors and who knows about them?”
“Tell us.”
Riley eyed the bartender and looked around for Sturner. “Let’s go outside.”
After they settled back at the domino table, Riley started. “It’s this way, ladies, if I were you, I’d check on what you called a ‘friendly’ ghost.”
“Henry? What does Henry have to do with any of this?”
“I may not be as book smart as you, little lady, or that cop friend of yours, but Laura’s father was named Henry and if Henry is at the house, what does that make you think?”
The women’s eyes widened. “You’re not saying…”
Riley shifted in his chair. “I’m not saying anything, but rumors have circulated for years that the pretty little thing’s old man did away with the soldier.”
I couldn’t believe my ears. “Then…”
“This is it, lady. I don’t want anything to do with any murder or with any police. You’re on your own.” Riley started toward his car. “Figure it out.”
* * * *
We didn’t have to search for the officer in charge when we got back—he was in front of the bed and breakfast with several of his men.
“Miss Pitts, glad you’re back.”
“Actually, I am too. What have you found out?”
“Your friend, Mrs. Banish, died of a heart attack.”
“And?”
“And we don’t think she was out for a morning stroll. In fact, evidence indicates she wasn’t walking but running when she ran into the barbed wire fence.”
“Running from what?”
“We don’t know at this point.”
“Look, just tell me what you think. I have a guest I feel responsible for and she died on my property. Do you think someone broke in and threatened her?”
“We don’t think so.”
“Then what?”
“There are no signs of forced entry and you said yourself that all your other guests had checked out. If neither you nor Miss Schubert frightened her, we can’t explain it. There are no signs of struggle. Her death is officially listed as heart failure.”
I watched Mrs. B.’s body disappear into the ambulance’s dark cavern. “Officer, may I talk to you about our conversations with some old-timers in the Devil’s Backbone Tavern?”
Dead and Breakfast Page 3
