A Brady Paranormal Investigations Box Set

by Harper Crowley

  “Try not to get the tourists, if you can,” I say. “Fewer faces to blur out that way.”

  With Bear’s leash looped around one hand and the brochure in the other, I follow the map down the street until I see where we’ll be meeting to begin the tour. “We still have about fifteen minutes. Do you want to shoot some more footage before then?”

  “Aye, aye,” Russ says with a lopsided salute.

  For the next ten minutes, we take video and pictures of downtown Tombstone. We get quite a few looks, from both the actors and the tourists alike, but no one asks us any questions. That’s one of the things I love about the West—everyone seems to mind their own business. Too bad the rest of the country doesn’t operate that way.

  Right before the tour is supposed to start, we wander over to a small grassy park on the outskirts of town.

  “According to the brochure”—I skim the page with my finger as I reread it—“the tour starts here.” We glance around us. Other than a pair of fanny-pack-wearing retirees, we’re the only ones here.

  “Let’s just see what happens,” Russ says.

  I have to agree. We didn’t come all this way on a half-assed bid for information just to give up now. “I’m going to introduce myself to the other two people on the tour.” I gesture at the retired couple. You never know when someone might have an interesting story to tell. Even if it doesn’t relate to the case, it still adds color and flavor that wasn’t there before. I clip the camera into my harness and stride forward, a smile pasted on my lips, begging internally for Bear not to attack anyone. He’s been strangely good lately. Maybe I should call a vet and get him checked out. It’s not normal for him.

  “Hi, I’m Meredith Brady, with Brady Paranormal Investigations. Are you here to for the ghost tour, too?”

  The woman, a slim, silver-haired lady with light-blue eyes, breaks into a smile. “Yes, we are. I’m Hattie Fortune,” she says, her voice thick with a Southern drawl. “And this is my husband, Rupert. We’re visiting from Mobile.”

  Her husband, with his face partially hidden behind folds and wrinkles thicker than that bulldog that chewed on Russ’s boot one time, nods pleasantly.

  “We always wanted to come to Tombstone, and here we are.” She gestures at the camera on my chest. “Are you video taping this?”

  My fingers graze the Go Pro. “Yeah, for our online show.”

  “Is that like a TV show?”

  “Sort of. We have an online platform where people can watch our investigations as they happen and examine the evidence we find. We travel all over the country, but this is our first time in Tombstone, too. These are my teammates, Russ and Jess, and my dog, Bear.” I crouch and scratch the scruff behind his ears.

  “That’s wonderful,” Hattie exclaims.

  Somehow, I convince the Fortunes to sign waivers, which will help Russ out immensely since he won’t blur their faces or cut the scenes with them in it unnecessarily short.

  A few minutes later, a perky brunette with a long calico dress and a bright smile joins us from the Tombstone side of the street.

  “Hi, y’all, I’m Rebecca. Are you here for the ghost tour?” After we all say we are, she says, “Great. I’ll be your guide today.”

  We introduce ourselves, and she doesn’t bat an eye when I tell her we have a paranormal-research TV show. She must get this a lot. On the plus side, she signs the release forms too, so in a couple of minutes, we’re on our way to the beginning of the tour.

  “Our first stop,” Rebecca says, “is the public restrooms.”

  Russ snickers, and Jess takes Rebecca up on her offer and quickly uses the bathroom.

  “Now that we’re all set, I’d like to bring your attention to our first stop, the Bird Cage Theater.”

  We cross the street from the bathrooms and stop in front of an old brick building painted pink with blue on the top. The front is mostly made up of three striking archways, the middle one a door and windows on either side. White lettering on the top reads “Bird Cage Theater.”

  “The Bird Cage Theater is one of the most infamous buildings in Tombstone,” Rebecca says. There’s an excited light in her eyes that tells me she’s not just doing this for her job—she’s actually enjoying giving the tours and sharing the history. This will make for good video.

  “Its grand opening was on Christmas Eve in 1881, and from 1881 to 1888, it remained open twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. Supposedly, over twenty-six people died here during its heyday, and it was known as one of the wildest bars from New Orleans to Los Angeles. In fact, there are even still at least a hundred forty bullet holes remaining in the building. Crazy, right?”

  She waits for us to agree.

  “Now, if you’re interested in the paranormal or a history buff, I definitely recommend taking a tour of the Bird Cage. They even offer a ghost tour every evening at eight. We have one other theater in town, the Lily. Even though a lot of people don’t know about that one, it’s supposedly almost as haunted, but if you have to pick one, I’d go with the Bird Cage Theater.”

  After that, our guide points out several other notable places in Tombstone, such as Big Nose Kate’s Saloon and the Crystal Palace.

  “Big Nose Kate’s was originally called the Grand Hotel, in the height of Tombstone’s history. It was renamed, in part, because of Kate’s fame. She was Doc Holliday’s live-in girlfriend for years, but they never married, which was quite the scandal in those times. This was the only other bar that survived the fire of 1882. The first was the Bird Cage. Besides being home to Swamper the ghost,” Rebecca says, “there’s even a mine shaft in the basement so miners could come up for a drink without leaving the mine. Truly one of the most historic places in Tombstone, and one I heartily recommend, especially if you’re trying to glimpse a ghost.”

  She leads us past another bar, the Last Chance Saloon, but it’s one of the newer ones and isn’t part of the haunted tour. “They have great food, though, so if you’re around for dinner and want something to eat, I’d definitely stop there. Our last stop is the O.K. Corral.” Rebecca sweeps her arm out at a tan adobe wall with a solid metal gate hiding whatever’s inside at the end of the block. The sign above it reads O.K. Corral. Feed and Livery Stables.

  “The gunfight at the O.K. Corral happened on October twenty-sixth, 1881, between a group of lawmen and some outlaws that called themselves the Cowboys. Even though it only lasted about thirty seconds, this shootout has gone down in history as the most famous gunfight in the Wild West.

  “On one side, there were the outlaws: Tom and Frank McLaury, Ike and Billy Clanton, who stayed at the Grand Hotel the night before the shootout, and Billy Claiborne. On the other side were the brothers Virgil Earp, Morgan Earp, Wyatt Earp, and Doc Holliday. Virgil Earp was the town marshal, while Morgan and Wyatt were policemen. Doc Holliday was also a policeman, but that happened later. There was a long-standing feud that abruptly came to a head when Doc Holliday supposedly told Billy Clanton, Frank McLaury, and Billy Claiborne that their brothers had been beaten by the Earps. Frank and Billy left immediately, searching for revenge.

  “And they found it. At around three o’clock p.m., the Earp brothers and Doc Holliday found the Cowboys in a vacant lot behind the O.K. Corral. In those thirty seconds, about thirty shots were fired. Both McLaury brothers were killed, as well as Billy Clanton. Virgil, Morgan, and Doc Holliday were wounded, but Wyatt Earp walked away from the fight, unharmed.”

  She pauses while we take some more pictures and video of the outside of the O.K. Corral and the street where the gunfight was originally fought. “This is another one that I highly recommend you see for yourself,” she says. “Local actors put on shows every day and really do an awesome job providing you with an authentic, riveting portrayal of the battle.”

  “What does it look like inside?” Rupert asks.

  Rebecca grabs some brochures from a little stand partially hidden by a hitching post. “Here. If you look inside, you’ll see the amazing set they’ve created.
All of the buildings are recreations, of course, but they’re historically accurate, and they’ve practiced the gunfight a lot so they get it right.”

  Russ and I both grab a pamphlet. It never hurts to have a spare just in case Jess spills a coffee on one. It’s happened too many times to count.

  Rebecca starts talking about the aftermath of the shootout at the O.K. Corral when Russ elbows me in the side. I turn my head but leave the camera on Rebecca so I don’t miss anything. He has the pamphlet open, and he jabs at the pictures of the actors playing the historical figures—well, one of the historical figures, Wyatt Earp. The thick mustache and dark-brown hair clipped short are the same, as well as the cowboy hat and button-up shirt under a vest. There’s only one difference between this picture and the man we found out in the desert. This man doesn’t have a bullet hole in his forehead. Crap. Someone killed Wyatt Earp, and we found him while we were searching for aliens.

  Chapter 8

  “Excuse me? Is everything okay?” Rebecca asks us, her forehead creased with worry. I give myself a shake. Jess and the other two guests are staring at Russ and me. I can’t seem to focus, though. It’s the guy we saw last night. I’m sure of it.

  “Sorry.” I walk quickly over to her and show her the picture. “Do you know this guy?”

  She frowns. “Hank? I mean, Wyatt Earp?”

  I nod.

  “Why do you ask?”

  I close the brochure and chew on her question for a few minutes. “I... Um, I thought he looked like someone I knew from a long time ago, but it’s not him.”

  Her concern clears. “Oh, okay. Yeah, it’s Hank Gladstone. He’s a great guy. One of the best reenactors we have.”

  There’s a note of pride in her voice that makes me feel even worse for not telling her. But I will not be the one to shatter her peace—I’ll leave that job to the cops, after they figure out who he is.

  “Seriously, though,” she says. “If you’re looking for a good show, you really should check out the fight at the O.K. Corral. They use authentic replica guns, filled with blanks of course, and it looks really realistic.”

  Too bad they weren’t using blanks last night. Maybe Hank would still be here. I give her a grateful smile and grab Russ’s elbow to steer him toward my sister. “We’ll do that. Thank you,” I say.

  “What was that all about?” Jess asks. She glances from me to Rebecca then back again.

  “I know who our dead guy is.” I open the pamphlet and point to the picture. “His name was Hank Gladstone. He played Wyatt Earp.”

  Jess’s eyes widen. “Holy crap,” she mutters. “That’s insane.”

  “But it explains the work schedule and the pamphlet it was written on, doesn’t it?” Russ asks.

  After the tour ends, we wander back downtown while we figure out what we want to do next.

  “I think we should go tell Beau,” Jess says, a mutinous look in her eyes.

  “I don’t know about that,” Russ replies. “He’ll want to go straight to the cops, and then they’ll start asking more questions, and they’ll want to know why we didn’t tell them about having more than one camera up. ‘I forgot’ isn’t going to get us very far.” He stares at the screen on the camera. For all of its old-fashioned trappings, Tombstone does have good Wi-Fi, so we live-streamed the tour. Russ scans through the extra pictures and video we took. “Do you want me to upload everything?”

  “Of course”—I ignore Jess’s pointed glare—“unless you can hear us talking about the dead guy, then cut that.”

  He shakes his head. “I think we’re good. I couldn’t really hear the guy’s name on our end, so I don’t think our viewers will be able to pick it up. And if they do, we can just stand by your story that you thought it was an old friend, someone you hadn’t seen in years.”

  “Perfect.”

  We meander over to the Last Chance Saloon, the one Rebecca said had really good food, and stop in front of it. An older man, balding on top and with sparse gray hair creeping around his ears, tips his hat at us.

  “Howdy,” he says. “My name’s Earl Longfellow. I’ve lived around these parts all my life. If you have any questions about our wonderful town, don’t hesitate to ask.” His words are long practiced, and I imagine he expects us to be just another trio of tourists. He’s in for a shocker—that’s for sure.

  I smile widely, my own kind of costume, and hold out my hand to shake his. He takes mine gently and tips his hat, and I wonder if that’s part of the act too, or if it’s more of a western thing.

  “My name’s Meredith Brady, and my team and I run Brady Paranormal Investigations.”

  Russ clips his camera back into the harness and starts filming.

  Earl blinks, but that’s his only betrayal of his surprise. “I don’t know much I can help y’all,” he says. “I don’t take much cotton in ghost stories, but ask away if you have any questions.”

  Okay, here goes.

  “How long have you been an actor here in Tombstone?” Jess asks.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about, ma’am. I’ve lived here all my life. I’m not an actor. I was a banker at the Tombstone Bank and Trust before I retired.” He gestures down one of the side streets. “I retired last year, and I’ve been enjoying my freedom and sitting and talking to people who come to visit our wonderful little town.”

  That’s not very helpful, Earl. The rest of the interview continues in the same, frustrating way, and a few minutes later, I signal to Jess. We thank him and cut the interview short.

  “Well, that was a waste of time,” Jess mutters as we walk away.

  “Yeah, if the other actors are anything like this guy, then we might be in for a challenge getting them to talk,” Russ says. He pushes the saloon’s double doors open. “Let’s get something to drink before we head back. Maybe the bartender knows something. You never know.”

  I nod. “Sounds like a plan.”

  Russ picks a trio of stools along the bar. In our experience, bartenders like to talk, so hopefully, we’ll have better luck here than we did with Earl.

  A tired thirtysomething waitress with blond hair and a smattering of freckles over her nose hurries behind the bar toward us. “Hi,” she says, her voice only betraying a hint of twang. “What can I get y’all?”

  “Mountain Dew,” Russ says automatically.

  “Water for us,” Jess says, gesturing at me. I nod when the waitress looks in our direction. Even bottled water is usually cheaper than soda, or pop and many Michiganders call it. Healthier, too.

  At my feet, Bear sniffs the floor, looking for snacks. Luckily for us, there really isn’t anyone in the bar right now, so I don’t think I have to worry about him drawing too much attention. Besides, this is the Wild West, and I’m getting the feeling that a lot of the rules don’t apply here like they do everywhere else.

  “Coming right up,” she says. “I’m Annette, by the way. Let me know if you folks need anything else.” We assure her we will, and she disappears, coming back a moment later with our drinks.

  I take a deep breath. In for a penny, in for a pound. “Actually, if you have a few minutes, we do have some questions. We’re paranormal investigators recording for our show, and we have a lot of questions about Tombstone and what’s going on here.”

  She quirks one penciled-in eyebrow. “Have you asked anyone outside? They’ll know more than me about the history of the town. Some of the volunteers have lived here all of their lives.” A wistful smile crosses her lips. “You kinda fall in love with the place. Not the heat,” she hurries to add, “but the people, the atmosphere, and the history. Tombstone is one of a kind.”

  “And that’s why we’re here.” Okay, so that’s maybe not the whole truth, but it’s most of it. We would have gotten to Tombstone eventually, even without a nearby case. “But we asked around outside”—it’s not entirely a lie, because we did ask one person—“and no one would talk about what was going on. It’s like they’re stuck in the 1880s.”

  Sh
e chuckles. “That doesn’t surprise me. A lot of the old-timers get really into their parts." She glances at the only other couple in the saloon, a pair of teenagers so obviously wrapped up in their phones that they wouldn’t notice an actual gunfight, then leans against the counter. “What can I help you with?”

  “First off, do you mind if I videotape this for our show?”

  Annette grimaces. “Only if you agree to cut anything stupid I say. I don’t think my boss would mind. Any news is good news, I’ve heard him say. He isn’t around to ask now, anyway.”

  And it’s better to beg forgiveness than to ask permission. I chuckle. “Deal.” Russ grabs a waiver from our bag, and she signs it without reading it.

  “So, are y’all like the Ghost Hunters?” she asks.

  Jess cringes at the comparison, but I’m used to it. “Kind of, only we live-stream almost everything we film and upload everything else to our website for people to watch when they can. We also provide a forum for people to discuss what they’ve seen and heard. A lot of the time, they go through evidence quicker than we can. And when you’ve got hours and hours of footage to pore through, the more eyes and ears to help you out, the better.”

  “If you’re looking for the ghosts of Wyatt Earp and Doc Holliday, I hate to disappoint you, but they weren’t buried here. The Bird Cage seems to have a lot of ghosts, though. So does the Lily. Oh, and Big Nose Kate’s has Swamper, but I don’t think there’s anyone haunting the Last Chance here.”

  “Thanks, but we’re actually here for another case out at one of the ranches, and we decided since we’re so close, we should check out Tombstone, as well. Most of our cases come from our subscribers, who send us their own paranormal occurrences in the hopes that we’ll choose their problem to investigate.”

  Her eyebrows rise. “That sounds... really cool. No, I’ve never seen anything spooky here. The Last Chance is just a bar for the tourists and some of the actors, but that’s it.”

  That’s disappointing, but since Annette is so chatty, we might still be able to get something out of the conversation. “How long have you been in Tombstone?”