“Hey, I’ve an idea.” I circle around her chair so she has to turn her head this way and that. It gets her to stop playing with her hair. “How about if I give you a private tour of my hotel? No one’s there at this time of the night, and if you feel like it, we can stop by the Sixty Miners for a drink afterwards.”
“You sure we’re not going to trip over Todd at the hotel?” She slides a suspicious grin at me. “Come on, Tami. What’s really happening?”
“We won’t trip over Todd or any widebody sheriffs.” I push up from the table and away from the brownies. “Promise. He’s pissed at me.”
“Whatever for? Sounds like a strong emotion.” She helps me repack the picnic basket. “I can’t eat all this, and Grady’s away. Maybe we should stop by the station and see if Todd’s over there.”
“Why are you bugging me about Todd?” I put my hands on my ample hips and bug my eyes out at her. “I’m telling you. It’s over. Done. I’m done. Not interested.”
“The lady doth protest too much.”
“I’ll prove it to you. Come with me to Harrowing Haunts and see how I’m not sneaking around the station.”
“Harrowing? I thought it was Hallowed Haunts.” She finally picks up a brownie and takes a bite. “These are so good. Todd loves frosted brownies loaded with bittersweet chocolate chips.”
“Yeah, well, too bad for him. He’s not getting any more of my goodies. I’m steering clear of the police station from now on. They can starve for all I care.”
“This I have to see.” Linx walks over to the kitchen and wraps bandages around her hands. She has to be careful not to injure the tender skin that has grown back after the hard, cracking burnt skin peeled off.
“Great. I can’t wait to show you the main gallery. We wallpapered it today, and there’s a giant mirror underneath the crystal chandelier. We might even scare up a few ghosts.”
“Spooky,” she says in a woo-woo voice. “Okay, Cedar, let’s go catch us some ghosts.”
“You’ll have to leave her here,” I cut in. “Spirits don’t like dogs. That’s why they have hounds to chase them into hell.”
Linx rolls her eyes. “You don’t really believe in ghosts, do you?”
“Of course, I don’t. But the biographies of the residents are gruesome.” I’m getting animated, and my fingers flutter like I’m typing in the air. “I found several diaries stuck inside the walls. Since they didn’t have banks or safe places to store their loot, the working girls had to hide their gold and personal effects underneath floorboards or behind fake walls.”
“You find any skeletons in the closets?”
It’s my turn to give her an enigmatic smile. “I wouldn’t tell you if I did.”
“Then tell me the stories of your resident ghosts,” she suggests. “Are you sure people would want to stay in their rooms?”
“Of course, they do.” I put the picnic basket into her refrigerator and pick up my keys. “Let’s see if we can catch a glimpse of Pickaxe Polly or the Weeping Widow.”
In the car, I give her the rundown of my resident spirits. “Polly Armstrong is nicknamed Pickaxe Polly. She’s a real battle axe, if you know what I mean.”
“Pun intended?” Linx asked, leaning the seat back as much as she could. “I’ve been so tired lately.”
“Everything okay?” I dart a glance at her, wondering if she could possibly be pregnant. She’s been withdrawn since Grady left to go to Australia, and I worry that she’s not taking care of herself.
“I’m fine. Tell me more about Polly and the rest of the ghouls.”
“Polly was a tough babe. Her husband died on the way out west. Rather than turn around and go home, or take in laundry or cook, she put on his pants and boots and went digging for gold.”
“I like her,” Linx says. “Did the men complain?”
“Oh, yes, they tried to arrest her for cross-dressing, but it was more to get her away from the gold. She was built like a sailor, and she knew how to wield that pickaxe.” I lower my voice and make it sound spooky. “It’s said she threw those she killed into the mineshafts, and some were left to die deep below the surface. If on a dark night, you hear their cries coming from within the earth …”
“What about that flying angel? The one who caused the construction accident?” Linx asks.
“That’s Baja Angel. When she got pregnant, she put a curse on all the men who slept with her if they didn’t pay her in gold. She was seen flying away like a white comet streaking across the sky the night her baby was born.”
“Did she leave with her baby, or did it die?” Linx asks.
I shrug, turning the steering wheel toward the bridge. “No one knows, but they say her baby’s spirit haunts the basement.”
“Remind me not to go down to the basement.” Linx gives an exaggerated shiver. “What’s the story on the Weeping Widow?”
“Kate Pennyworth’s her name. She was a relatively prosperous woman who came from back east. Her husband was a judge or magistrate who was decades older than her. Some say she killed our husband; others say he was shot in a duel. All we know for sure is that he cheated on her, and she never got over him. She was beautiful, of course, and attracted many men. But she wanders the hills and valleys, wearing a wedding dress, weeping and wailing.”
“Doesn’t sound scary at all.” Linx looks out the window at the towering trees and craggy ridges. “A lovesick widow wandering the wilderness.”
“Ah, but there’s a catch.” I slow down as my Harrowing Haunts Hotel comes into sight. Pointing toward the forest behind the property, I say, “She’s so irresistible, and the sounds of her weeping is so hypnotizing, that men follow her through the deep, dark woods, over rivers and across lakes, and deep into the snowy caves to disappear and never be seen again.”
“Sounds like the type of woman my brother Scott would be interested in.” Linx frowns as I park in front of my spooky hotel. “Except he’s smart enough to take a bloodhound with him.”
We get out of my car. It’s deathly quiet, now that the workers are gone, and the lot is deserted. Low clouds partially cover the moon, and a chill breeze blows a scattering of leaves in circles on the path leading to the grand entrance.
Since my hotel is not open for business, no lights are left on inside or out, and the lone streetlamp across the road throws out just enough light to cast stark shadows.
I tap Linx on the shoulder, causing her to startle. “Doesn’t it look even freakier in the dark?”
“Don’t do that.” She hugs her coat and tiptoes underneath the gables leading to the front lobby. “I almost expect bats.”
“Great idea. Let me ask Evan if he can set that up too.”
“What do you know about Evan?” she asks, darting me a suspicious glance. “Molly says Todd’s having him investigated.”
“Investigated?” My jaw drops at the impertinence of the sheriff. “Whatever for?”
She shrugs and stops in front of the stained glass which portrays a soiled dove, a blond woman wearing a turquoise-blue dress with a dove in her lap. Instead of an olive branch, the dove clutches a red rose, and the woman’s hand is pricked with a drop of blood.
“Somehow this feels wrong,” Linx says. “It’s like you’re commercializing the suffering of the women you told me about.”
“Their stories are the stuff of legends,” I retort. “That’s what all theme parks do. Create rides and exhibits that tell stories.”
“Maybe,” she says. “I know there were a lot of characters and scary things that happened, but aren’t you sensationalizing them?”
“You were laughing about it earlier. What got into you?”
She presses her lips together and doesn’t answer me.
So self-righteous. I get that she does noble things such as fighting fires and rescuing dogs. She’s the town heroine—I respect that. But there’s nothing wrong with making money and entertaining people.
I don’t want to argue with her. I love her to pieces, and she’s bee
n through such a hard time with being burned over forty percent of her body. I go for distraction instead.
I turn on my flashlight and point it into the rose bushes. “Did you hear that?”
“No, not a thing.” She gives me a playful slap. “You’re trying to scare me.”
“No, I swear, I heard something.” I sneak toward the spindly roses that have already been deadheaded. “It’s like someone or something is watching.”
That gets her attention. Her eyes widen, and she puts a finger over her lips. I advance toward the corner of the porch and catch a shadow darting through the rails.
“Over there.” I follow the shadow with the flashlight beam, catching the reflection of two eyes, shining like gold coins. “See that?”
“It’s only a kitty cat,” Linx says, laughing. She gets down on her knees and holds out a hand. “Here kitty, kitty. Don’t be scared.”
A small black kitten emerges from underneath the rose bushes. Its nose twitches, and its whiskers quiver.
“It’s probably hungry.” I reach into my pocket for the half-finished sandwich I saved to eat later.
“Poor little thing,” Linx says. “Look at its ribs.”
“Ah …” I rip up pieces of roast beef and cheese from the sandwich and place it on the palm of my hand.
The kitten mews, but it’s too scared to come closer.
“Drop the food, and let’s pretend we don’t see it,” Linx says. “It’s a stray and probably afraid of us.”
“It’s so tiny,” I say. “What happens if it starts snowing? We should catch it and find it a home.”
“It’s too bad I only rescue dogs,” Linx says. “Not sure having a cat will go over well with Cedar.”
“Then I can take it home.” I put the food at the corner of the porch.
The kitten stares at us with large golden-yellow eyes, but it doesn’t come closer.
“Let’s leave it for now,” Linx says. “Maybe if you keep feeding it, it’ll get used to you.”
“It’s so cute, but kind of spooky too.” I suppress a shiver going down my spine at the uncanny way the kitten’s eyes follow me. “Like it’s watching me.”
“A spooky cat for Spooky Fest.” She laughs. “Maybe this cat can be your mascot.”
“I’ll set out food and make friends with it.” I turn away from the scared cat and unlock the front door. “Come on into my Harrowing Haunts Hotel and prepare for the fright of your lifetime.”
The door creaks open, reminding me I need to grease the hinges. Shining my light, I can see the beautiful polished wood floor and the crystal chandelier. Beyond that is a gilded floor-length mirror, and the banister and staircase to the second floor. A player piano sits next to the staircase, and strips of floral wallpaper have already been hung.
“It’s beautiful,” Linx says. “You should be proud of yourself.”
“It shouldn’t be beautiful, but spooky,” I say, stepping over the threshold.
“Watch out!” Linx screams.
Something cold and sticky pours all over me, blinding me and wetting me all over. I slip on the wet slick of coppery-smelling liquid. A salty tang smears over my lips, and I scream, tasting blood.
My feet shoot out from beneath me at the same time the black cat leaps over me and streaks up the stairs. My arms windmill, grasping for the doorframe, but I land smack on my big butt.
Flashes of metal swish around me, and I’m sure I’m getting cut up by a million knives. White blobs circle my visual field, and an ominous chill freezes my skin to the bones.
“Linx, Linx, run!” I scream while fending off the axe-murderer ghost, Pickaxe Polly, whose gruesome laughter keens and echoes through the empty hall.
~ Todd ~
Can this evening get worse?
Not only am I stood up by Torrential Tami, I can’t even reach Shane who’s supposed to be on duty tonight. I guess I should count myself lucky that Tami stood me up. It’s not like I can have a proper date or make out session when I’m the sole responsible policeman who has to respond at a moment’s notice.
I’m starving since I burned the TV dinner, and I have nothing else in my refrigerator. The diner is crowded when I drive by with people waiting outside. So I head over to the Sixty Miners Saloon to get one of their Giant Buffalo cheeseburgers, a side of Cajun onion rings, and a jumbo chocolate milk shake.
It's going to be a long night. At least, fire season is almost over, and temperatures are dropping. Winter weather will start soon, and after Spooky Fest, the town will go into hibernation.
The bar’s new owner, Paul McCall, is presiding tonight. Uncle Chip was lucky to find a buyer for the Sixty Miners after falling into debt, and the historical saloon was going to seed. Paul’s a newcomer to Colson’s Corner, exactly the type of businessman Tami wants to attract.
Young, wealthy, and citified, he hails from the San Francisco Bay Area where his parents are tech executives. Instead of going into tech investing like his siblings who are venture capitalists and investment bankers, Paul did a stint as a smokejumper with my sister, Linx.
He's also a witness to the arsonist attack at Linx’s barn this summer, and I’m not sure he gave me a straight answer to what he saw.
I amble up to the copper bar counter and lean on my elbows.
“Howdy, Sheriff,” Paul says, trying to act countrified. “What’ll you have?”
“Giant Buffalo cheeseburger, Cajun onion rings, and a chocolate milk shake with a cherry on top. I’m working.”
“Coming up.” He turns away from me to scoop ice into a blender.
For a bartender, he’s certainly a closemouthed type. He hears a lot but doesn’t share. Too bad.
He likes to play big man in town, throwing his money into every charitable drive, but there’s something strange about a guy who has the world at his feet hanging out in our small town.
I wonder what he knows. I wonder who or what he’s hiding from. I wonder what secrets he keeps.
He brings me the milkshake. “Want this now or with the food?”
“I’ll take it now. I’m starving.” I pay him. “Keep the change.”
“Hard day today?” he asks.
“Yeah.” I settle back onto a barstool. “The pits.”
“Heard about that worker who fell. He okay?”
“Fine. He was installing a zipline and fell.” I tap my fingers on the counter. “What do you think about having the hotel across the street from you?”
“Don’t believe it’ll turn a profit.” He picks up a glass and polishes it. He does that whenever he’s nervous. It’s not like those glasses need wiping.
“So, you’re not going to lose sleep over it?”
“It’ll bring more traffic to this side of the creek, but no one’s going to want ghost stories all year round. Tami’s spending too much for a single minor holiday.”
“That concerns me, too.” I scratch the five o’clock shadow on my chin. “But I think her plan is to turn this side of the creek into a themed amusement park.”
“Not going to happen.” He shrugs and picks another beer glass to wipe. “Folks aren’t going to drive all the way up this way for amusement parks. As for new shopping centers, she’s way behind the times. People order stuff online nowadays, and no one likes to get in their cars and go anywhere.”
“What do you think she should do with the property? She put a ton of money into it.”
“Use it for town meetings and try to get conference business. Maybe themed holiday getaways and destination weddings.” He sets the glass down with a clink on the countertop. “Any other free advice I should give her?”
“I just hope we get through this Halloween weekend without any disasters. She’s booked solid with out of town guests and looking to create a buzz.”
He snickers, shaking his head with a superior smirk. “What she needs is a disaster that goes viral. Gawkers, looky-loos, rubbernecking. Viral hashtags attract onlookers and the curious. The macabre. Maybe one of those ghosts should ki
ll someone. Or find someone hanging from the balcony.”
“Not on my watch.” I take the basket with the burger and onion rings from him and amble to a table near the door. Looking back, I wonder about Paul and the events from this past summer.
He was put on watch to catch the arsonist but claims he knew nothing about the gunshot wound or the trail of blood that stopped at the side of the road. Someone drove the arsonist away, and I doubt it was a random person picking up a bloody hitchhiker. I still don’t know why a man who has all that money and connections would stagnate in an out-of-the-way bar in an out-of-the-way town. Why is he here, and who is he waiting for?
I’m so engrossed with my musing that it takes me a few seconds to respond to the alert ringtone on my cell phone.
“CCPD,” I respond for Colson’s Corner Police Department. “How may I help you?”
“Todd, it’s me, Linx! You need to come to Tami’s hotel. There’s blood all over the place. It’s horrible.”
“Is Tami okay?”
“I don’t know. She’s freaking out and screaming. Come quickly.”
Twelve
~ Todd ~
I throw money on the table to cover the food I don’t have time to eat. A couple of guys I know from high school look over at me and the food.
“Here, have at it.” I pick up the basket and set it on the table they’re sitting at. Both of them are underemployed and have that hungry look all the time—preferring to spend their nickels on beer and girls than saving for a rainy day.
“You’re leaving?” Dillon Van Dirk, the guy I used to share a paper route with, asks. He scrapes his dirty-blond hair from his face. His fingers are always blackened from working underneath a car, and he’s got grease spots and oil stains on his mechanic’s shirt. I should have kicked him off my paper route because he was smudging fingerprints and dirt onto the papers he delivered.
“Yeah. Have at it.” I gesture at the uneaten burger and onion rings and try not to wince at the grubby fingers he uses to split the burger in half.
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