Ghosts on Tour: Wylie Westerhouse Book 1

by Nathan Roden

I pulled to a stop across the street from the castle. There was a beehive of construction activity. Holly made no move to get out of the car. She looked sad.

  “We can go now. Thank you,” she said.

  “If you want, I can bring you back here—after the crews are gone for the day,” I said.

  “You’ve been very kind, Mr. Westerhouse, but that won’t be necessary. You said the place where I’m staying is not far away, right?”

  “It’s not that far, but it’s farther than you might want to walk after dark. I don’t mind. We could even— you know, get something to eat, if you want.”

  “You don’t give up easily, do you?”

  “Not anymore,” I said.

  “Call before you come over. I’ll be sleeping like the dead.”

  Seventeen

  Wylie Westerhouse

  Branson, Missouri

  I stopped by the kennel to pick up Toby. The lady at the desk brought Toby in from the back. She made kissy face with him before she adjusted my bill for his less-than-twenty-four-hour stay.

  We took a little nap in the big people’s bed. I promised Toby that we would have a movie and popcorn night later. Trust me—he knows the word “popcorn” better than he knows his name.

  “Hullo? Who is it?” Holly said into the phone. She was obviously still asleep when I called.

  “Wally. Wally Westerfield,” I said.

  “Mr. Westerhouse,” she said. “What time is it?”

  “Quarter to six. I’ll be outside in fifteen minutes. Don’t hurry on my account, but it will be getting dark in an hour.”

  “I’m up, I’m up,” she said, “I’ll be ready.”

  Holly was tugging on the door handle before I had even come to a complete stop in front of the castle. I opened my door and started to get out, too. She turned and looked at me.

  “You… don’t want me to come?” I asked.

  “Could I go by myself, just this time? You won’t be mad, will you?” she asked.

  I closed my door.

  “No, of course not. Don’t be silly.”

  I wasn’t mad. A little confused, maybe. I had already seen her cry so that couldn’t be it. But she had just lost her uncle as well as her home. I wasn’t about to make any judgments.

  She came back twenty minutes later. She had been crying again. A lot, I would guess.

  “You know what, Holly?” I said. “Quentin—Quentin Lynchburg had planned to live in the castle. People from the City and the Zoning Commission told him that he can’t, so he’s going to operate it as a tourist attraction—with guided tours. He offered me the job—“

  She turned into her spiky self again.

  “And what in blazes would you know about this castle? Have you ever even been to Scotland? What do you know about the stone—and where it came from. What do you know about the men who built it—or how the foundation was prepared? What do you know about the black death of fourteen-hundred-and-twenty-one—and the famine, the riots, the siege of this very castle! What do you know of the murder of all who lived inside at the hands of peasants armed with nothing but picks and shovels?” she said.

  I stayed clear of her arms. She was throwing them all over the place.

  “I don’t… no, I’ve never been—“

  “…The English invasion of fifteen thirty-two—the burning and the looting!”

  She was relentless.

  “Hey, I didn’t mean to make you mad. Jeez,” I said, holding my hands up in submission.

  “What I was about to say is, why don’t you take the position?” I said. “Quentin would be thrilled, I’ll bet.”

  Holly calmed down and appeared to be thinking about what I had just said.

  “Have you done tours of the castle before?” I asked.

  “Ha,” she said. “I’ve been guiding tours of the castle for five years, even when my parents…I thought I was a good tour guide. Lots of people said so.”

  “Sounds like a match made in heaven to me,” I said, “and maybe I could…never mind.”

  “Maybe you could what?” she asked.

  “I just thought…no. Nothing,” I said.

  “So, where do I find this Mr. Lynch—?”

  “I could help you, you know. I could be like, your assistant, or your apprentice, and learn more about the castle and the history. You’ll need some time for your classes, right? I can work around your class schedule, no problem. And I’m…sort of between jobs, right now.”

  “Do you make it a habit of attaching yourself to young ladies, Mr. Westerhouse? I haven’t even known you for a full day and yet you’re…well, you’re being the slightest bit creepy.”

  I dropped my head.

  “No, it’s not a habit. In fact, I’ve been accused of behaving like a monk for a while. My last relationship didn’t exactly end well. I’m sorry. The last thing I want to be is ‘creepy’.”

  She punched me on the shoulder.

  “I think that sounds like an excellent idea. What are we eating? I’m starving.”

  I stopped my car in front of the Broadmoor Cottages an hour later and heaved a sigh of relief.

  “That was an experience,” I said.

  “Your America is going to take some getting used to,” Holly said.

  I barked a laugh.

  “Yeah, I’ll say. Let’s see, in one hour you barely managed to avoid being run over by a four-by-four pickup—”

  “He was on the wrong side of the—”

  “It’s not the wrong side of the road here. It’s the correct side. Maybe before you start traveling the streets on a scooter you should consider some driver education,” I said.

  “Aye, you might have a point,” she said.

  “Also, every state in the nation sets its own legal drinking age. A scooter license from Scotland is not going to get you far—especially since you’re only nineteen.”

  “Well, I know that now, though it’s the most stupid thing I’ve ever heard of. I’ve been able to knock back a pint in a pub for a year and a half,” she said.

  “Well, you scared the crap out of that waiter. I’m fairly sure that he thought you were about to beat him up,” I said.

  “He was talking to me like I was a child—“

  “So you talked to him like—. I’ve never heard some of those words before. Judging by the faces of the people sitting next to us they had never heard them either. The children seemed rather amused.”

  “Well, I’ve been thirsting for a pint for two days. I get a little edgy when I’m disappointed,” she said.

  “I’ll try to remember that. You must be exhausted, so I’m going to take off. Here, I wrote my number down. Does your cell phone not work? I saw you attacking it,” I said.

  “No, it was a piece of junk I bought off of a guy in London outside the airport. I paid forty euros for a phone that was supposed to work in America, which it doesn’t,” she said.

  “I can talk to Quentin tomorrow and set up a meeting, okay?” I said.

  She nodded.

  “So how do you know Mr. Lynchburg?” she asked as she looked around at my car. “I wouldn’t think you were blood relations—this ain’t exactly a limousine. No offense.”

  “None taken. We’re just friends. He was a regular customer at the store where I work.”

  “So you have the kind of job that you’re willing to quit at the drop of a hat to become an apprentice tour guide?” she asked.

  “I work at a music store but it’s being closed down. It was my second job, anyway.”

  “So you’re a man of multiple talents. Let me guess, judging from your performance at the airport you must be an actor. Maybe you do Shakespeare in the park on the weekends, is that it?” Holly said, grinning.

  “Well, no. I…I sing a little.”

  “Well, what do you know about that? Sing me a little something, Mr. Westerhouse.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Aw, come on, now. Don’t be bashful,” she said, her eyes dancing.

  �
��Maybe some other time,” I said.

  “Suit yourself, then,” she said, and then she yawned.

  “I’ll call you when I’ve had a chance to talk to Quentin, okay?”

  “Sure. Thank you, Wylie Westerhouse,” she said.

  “You can start calling me just Wylie any time, you know.”

  “Good night, just Wylie.”

  “Good night, Holly.”

  “Hello?” Nate said.

  “You’re asleep? Already?” I said. Lately, everybody I call is asleep.

  “Wylie? What time is it?”

  “It’s only ten-thirty, old man. You have to feed chickens in the morning or what?”

  “Something like that; the quarterly sales meeting Yawn-Fest. How was your flight?”

  “I have no idea. I missed it.”

  “Yeah, yeah. It’s coming back to me now. Gimme a sec, I gotta turn the light on and find my glasses.”

  “What was that all about this morning?” Nate asked a few seconds later. “You were squeeing about the Dixie Chicks or something like that.”

  “I did not squee. I don’t squee.”

  “You squeed today, son—squeed like you had wet yourself.”

  “If I squeed, it was over the European Girl singing group that I made up on the spot; The Celtic Angels.”

  “Yeah, that does ring a bell. And what was the name of the star of the Celtic Angels? Not that it matters.”

  “Hayley O’Hara, that’s what I came up with, on the spot. Not bad, huh?”

  “A European singing sensation named O’Hara. I suppose she was dressed all in green—chasing after you in her pointy shoes and big gold belt buckle and trying to get yer Lucky Charms? Your imagination is not so politically correct, you know.”

  “Like I said, Dude—on the spot. No prep time. Totally nailed it.

  “Okay, Wyles, so you’re still here. What are you doing?”

  “I had to get the cops and security away from this girl that just flew in from Scotland. They were going to arrest her,” I said.

  “You did all that and missed your flight? So, when are you leaving now?”

  “I’m…” I said.

  “Yes…?” Nate said.

  “I’m staying here; for now.”

  “Really? That’s awesome, Wyles! I was really freaking depressed, man. You’re not yankin’ my chain, right?”

  “I don’t yank chains, and I don’t squee. Okay, I don’t yank chains, and I rarely ever squee.”

  “So, are we going to start hitting up the clubs or are we still taking some time off? What are we doing, Bro?” Nate asked.

  “I’m not sure on that one, yet. Listen, the girl at the airport—she used to own the castle—the one that Quentin Lynchburg bought.”

  “Wow. Really?” Nate said. “What’s she doing here? Trying to get it back?”

  “No. She owned the castle, but her uncle was in charge of the estate until she turned twenty-one.”

  “How old is she?” Nate asked.

  “Nineteen,” I said. “A nineteen-year- old girl that could kick my butt—maybe yours, too.”

  “Okay, so, once again, what is she doing here?”

  “She has no family left. Her Uncle died from a heart attack two weeks ago.”

  “Ouch. That stinks. But what is she doing here, halfway around the world and all by herself? That’s more than a little strange.”

  “I thought so, too. But, like I told her, Quentin can’t live in it. He’s going to conduct tours, which is what Holly has been doing for the last five years.”

  “So it’s a win-win situation,” Nate said.

  “Possibly even a win-win-win situation, with more possible wins to follow as well,” I said.

  “I believe a squee is in order,” Nate said.

  “I concur. After you,” I said.

  “Squeeeeeeeee!”

  Eighteen

  Holly McFadden

  Branson, Missouri

  Holly pulled the edge of the drapes back and watched the young man drive away. She changed into a pair of cross-training shoes and pulled on her coat. She stepped through the door, pulled on it to make sure that it was locked, and set off toward the castle.

  “Holly!”

  Nora and Charlotte squealed and ran to meet Holly as soon as they saw her. Holly fell backward because Charlotte was unable to stop in time.

  It had been a few years since she experienced the stomach-dropping effect that happened when a disembodied spirit passed through her body. It was unsettling, but she could not fault Charlotte for it. Charlotte was still only eight years old, and her desire to throw herself into the arms of her good friend got the best of her.

  “Girls, who are you…” Elizabeth McIntyre walked around the corner of the castle.

  “Holly! The girls told me that you were here but I thought they had bats in their belfries.”

  “It is so good to see you again, Lady McIntyre. I was unable to stay, earlier. I wasn’t by myself,” Holly said.

  “Do you know people here in Misery, Holly? Will they be able to see us?” Charlotte asked.

  “I’ve only met one young man, so far. In fact, he said that he spent the night in the turret room by accident,” Holly said.

  Elizabeth, Nora, and Charlotte all stared at Holly.

  “You know him? What is his name? Does he live nearby? How did you meet—” Nora rambled.

  “Jeez, Nora,” Holly said, leaning away from Nora, who was in her face. “What’s gotten into you?”

  “Nora is in love,” Charlotte giggled.

  “Charlotte! Shut your mouth, you little weasel,” Nora screamed.

  “Young ladies!” Elizabeth scolded, “You will mind your manners, do you hear me?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” the sisters said in unison, hanging their heads.

  “How do you know this young man, Holly?” Elizabeth asked.

  “We, uh, met at the airport,” Holly said. “He was nice enough to give me a ride to the cottage where I’m staying.”

  “What is this young man’s connection to the castle? Or is he merely connected…to you?” Elizabeth asked.

  “Yes, Holly,” Nora asked, “is he connected to you?”

  “Oh, for the love of…he isn’t…we are not connected at all, but he does happen to be an acquaintance of Mr. Lynchburg—the man who bought the castle. He’s going to speak with Mr. Lynchburg about my conducting tours of the castle—right here in America. So, maybe things won’t change all that much,” Holly said.

  “So you will be staying here, Holly? That is wonderful news, isn’t it, Mother? Nora?” Charlotte said.

  “It’s wonderful, dear,” Elizabeth said.

  Nora said nothing but smiled—a little smile.

  “We have been so worried about what to expect, Holly,” Elizabeth said. “A place called ‘Misery” left us wondering what we might find.”

  “Misery?” Holly said. After a couple of seconds, she realized how that particular mistake was made. She reached into her coat pocket and pulled out a brochure. Holly found the brochure for local attractions on the desk in her room.. She unfolded it and held it for Elizabeth and the girls to see.

  “Welcome to Branson, Missow—” they read out loud together.

  “Missouri,” Holly said.

  “This place is Branson, Missouri?” Elizabeth asked. “Not Misery?”

  Holly laughed.

  “Who in their right mind would call the place they live ‘Misery’? Where in the world did you hear that?”

  Elizabeth smiled and shook her head.

  “Dallas McIntyre! Get yourself out here. We have a visitor,” Elizabeth called out.

  Dallas appeared, passing through the rear wall of the castle.

  “I was wondering where you three got off—

  “Well, would you look here—Miss Holly McFadden, in the flesh!” Dallas said, beaming. “What a surprise. It is wonderful to see you.”

  “It is wonderful to see you all again as well, Baron McIntyre. It was
such a shock when I…when I couldn’t find you. I had no idea where to look…” Holly said.

  “We certainly did not intend to travel around the world. Charlotte effectively made that decision for us,” Dallas said. He patted Charlotte on her head.

  “I haven’t heard the story yet, but I’m looking forward to it,” Holly said.

  Dallas looked around.

  “So is your uncle with you? I do so miss his hearty laugh,” Dallas said.

  “No…Seth, my Uncle Seth passed away, suddenly. It was right after you disappeared. His heart…” Holly said.

  The McIntyre family gave a collective gasp.

  “Holly, I’m so sorry. Seth Larrimore was such a good man, and a good friend,” Dallas said.

  “I’m sorry, Holly,” Elizabeth said, as did Nora and Charlotte.

  “Thank you. Thank you, all. You have all been like my family for as long as I’ve known you. The last thing Uncle Seth said—the last thing he told me was…to find you,” Holly said.

  “Dallas, Holly has said that she may be staying with us,” Elizabeth said. “Mr. Lynchburg intends to continue the castle tours and he may employ Holly to conduct them.”

  “You don’t say,” Dallas said. “Perhaps our fears for our future are unfounded.”

  “Perhaps if our Father could read, we would not have as many fears,” Nora said.

  All four girls began to giggle. Dallas scowled.

  “What is so humorous? I am quite able to read,” Dallas said.

  “Then why did you tell us that the castle was being moved to Misery, Dallas?” Elizabeth said.

  “This is Branson, MISSOURI, Daddy,” Charlotte said. “Show him, Holly.”

  Holly held the brochure for Dallas to read. He squinted and leaned forward.

  “Well, I was in a bit of a hurry and under considerable strain as you may remember…”

  “Of course, Dear,” Elizabeth said, patting her husband’s back. “And perhaps it was time for Baywatch.”