Madison Johns - Agnes Barton Paranormal 02 - Ghostly Hijinks (11 page)

“Sure is, and that took some getting used to, but I learned to use a landline like nobody’s business.”

Eleanor laughed until she snorted. “That’s a good one. I still have a landline back home.”

“Where do you ladies call home?”

“Tawas, Michigan,” I said. “For Eleanor, that is. I live in Tadium, a small town near Tawas.”

“How quaint sounding. I’m from Texas, originally. I had hoped to break into acting, but unfortunately, I wasn’t able to land any roles except for a few commercials for STDs,” he grimaced.

“I’ve seen those ads,” I laughed. “How interesting.”

“Not so interesting when my mother saw them one night. I spent an entire weekend telling her that I don’t have genital herpes.”

“Wow, is all I can say.”

The coffee was brought and frothy enough to know it was a latte, all right. “Thank you so much.”

“Not a problem. Did I hear you folks are staying at the Goldberg Hotel?”

“Sure are,” Eleanor grinned.

“Then I suppose you’ve met Redd?” Before anyone had a chance to answer, Bertha Anne added, “Isn’t he dreamy?”

I stared at her for wrinkles of any sort, but she didn’t have a one. “Isn’t he sort of old for you?”

She frowned. “You sound just like my mother. I can’t help it if the man makes me feel all giddy inside.”

“I see.” I smiled kindly and changed the subject. “Lois sure isn’t very neighborly.”

“I know she can be cranky at times, but she’s not as bad as she seems. I think she likes to scare folks off so they don’t try to poke around at the Goldberg too much, but I’m sure you already know that. I heard you found remains in the legendary Room 109.”

“Word travels fast.”

“I’m surprised that anyone would dare go in
that room
,” the sheriff said.

“I’m not all that sure I believe that nobody has gone in that room since 1878.”

“Is that what Lois said?” Bertha Anne asked.

“Not in so many words, but the owner, Francine, sure told us that her great-grandfather told her father not to ever go in that room.”

“Sounds like a plan,” the sheriff said. “I still can’t believe they are even able to book rooms in that creepy hotel. Too many spirits for my taste.”

I so knew what he meant, but instead, I asked, “So have you had any ghostly experiences at the Goldberg?”

“Well, it seems that a few of the townsfolk thought it would be funny to have me go into the library. Gave me some story about how they forgot to get a book they left behind. Anyway, I encountered a nasty ghost that almost stabbed me with a jagged blade. Let me just say that I ran so fast out of the library that I didn’t stop until I was safely at home. I’ve yet to ever go back to that hotel.”

Eleanor was having a fit of giggles, but I apologized, saying, “I don’t blame you since we encountered that same spirit. Believe me, Eleanor wasn’t laughing then—she was screaming.”

“S-Sorry. It just sounds more funny when it happens to someone else,” Eleanor said.

“I bet, but how about we don’t talk about that creepy hotel anymore,” the sheriff said.

I was happy to change the subject. “Fine by me. What I’d really like to ask you both about is the missing family.” When they both had blank expressions on their faces, I added, “There was a family with a five-year-old child that presumably disappeared from the hotel.”

“Missing family?” the sheriff asked.

“Lois never told me anything about it,” Bertha Anne said. “She’s friends with my mother, and believe me, she usually spills her guts. Was this very recent?”

“I’m not sure exactly when, but yes. Seems like nobody is really concerned about the family. They might have been searching for Leister’s gold.”

The sheriff frowned now. “Oh, I see. That’s not good at all. Word has it that whoever searches for that gold is never heard from again.”

“That seems to be the recurring theme.”

“I’m sorry, but I can’t help you with that one. My mother never even mentioned that.”

“And you never saw a family that would fit that description?”

“Nope. We don’t get too many families with children in the saloon, but if it’s Leister’s gold that they’re after, God help them. Not anyone I’ve ever heard of has come back alive from such a search.”

That certainly wasn’t what I wanted to hear. I had hoped to get some kind of clue, something that might help me find the family. “Does anyone have a clue where the gold might be located?”

“If we did, we’d have gone after it ourselves,” the sheriff said.

We enjoyed the rest of our coffee in silence and it was obvious that finding the family might just be more difficult than I’d expected.

Chapter Eight

Eleanor and I finally made it back to the hotel since we weren’t able to come up with any clues at the saloon and I was too tired to go anywhere else. Andrew and Mr. Wilson were still in the saloon of the hotel, but they left the card table with little prompting from us. We entered the dining room. Boy, was I starving since Eleanor and I hadn’t had any lunch. As it was, I was wired after drinking the coffee.

Once we had placed our order, we sat in virtual silence since none of the men were speaking. I finally said, “Don’t everyone speak at once.”

“Sorry, Agnes. Mr. Wilson lost a good sum of money, but with my help he won it all back.”

“Th-They’re a bunch of no good cheaters,” Mr. Wilson said.

“It might be part of a reenactment,” I said. “In the Tumbleweed Saloon today, Eleanor and I saw a card game go to the birds and wound up with fists flying until the sheriff showed up.”

“That sounds like fun. I wish I had gone with you instead of hanging out with Wilson all day.”

“Y-You weren’t saying that when you were flirting with that saloon girl, Patty,” Mr. Wilson said with a wink.

I felt the anger go straight to my face as my cheeks burned. “Is that right, now?”

Andrew squeezed my hand and I laughed it off. “I better keep an eye on you, Andrew.”

“Not to worry. I truly only have eyes for you. So, what were you girls up to today?”

“Oh, nothing much. We learned about the history of the hotel from the owner, Francine. Remember, the one I told you I’d dreamed about?” When his brow arched, I added, “The reenactment we saw today involved a sheriff that I also dreamed about. It seems like my dream is feeling more real all the time, except for seeing that little girl, Rebecca, in Room 109.”

“Perhaps I was in too much of a rush to not believe you about the family. Patty told me all about the family and how they really were cash-strapped. I’m betting that they’re destitute enough to go search for Leister’s gold even.”

“Did Patty mention where the gold might be located?”

“Nope. You get any information about it at the saloon?”

I shook my head. “I’m beginning to wonder if I’ll ever get a break, or if finding this family might be as elusive as the gold.”

Andrew squeezed my hand again. “I don’t like to hear you talk like that, Agnes. Besides, since when do you listen to me or anyone else when you’re on the trail of a mystery? This one is just a little more difficult, but I have faith that you’ll be able to figure it out.”

I sighed. “Thanks, Andrew. I really needed to hear that. Did you know that the owner, Francine, never even reported the family missing to the sheriff?”

“Really? That seems strange. Did they run out on the bill?”

“Yes, and I just feel that the sheriff should have been involved in some way.”

“Did you speak to the sheriff yet?”

“Not yet. Francine assured us that she’d report their disappearance to the sheriff and I wanted to give her the opportunity to do so. I hardly want anyone to think that I’m a know it all.”

“Which you totally are,” Andrew said with a snicker.

I would have said more, but our dinner came. Grilled lamb, peas and baked potatoes were served, and although it wasn’t what I’d call a gourmet meal, it certainly was tasty, and more tender than any meat I’d ever eaten. We had white wine with dinner and I welcomed the fruity taste since the caffeine from earlier had me too cranked up.

When we finally made it upstairs, I saw the yellow police tape over the door of Room 109, but I hardly gave it another thought. I didn’t react when I saw Caroline talking with the ghostly shape of a man. I simply figured she was talking with Niles, the ghost she had told me about.

My head hit the pillow and I all but ignored the footsteps over my head, knowing that it was only Crazy Mary. Once I began to put a name to these spirits and learned more about them, the less scary they seemed, and that was my last thought as I fell into an exhausted sleep.

* * *

When I woke up, I had a crick in my neck. Massaging it out wasn’t an option, and just my luck, no Andrew in sight. I gathered my bath supplies and made my way for the shared bathroom, but just as I was about to knock on the door, I heard hushed voices. “Hurry up, Mr. Wilson. I don’t have all day now,” Eleanor said, impatiently.

“It’s not my fault. It’s been a long time since I’ve done this,” Wilson complained.

Grunts and groans ensued now. “It’s not gonna fit,” Wilson next said.

“Well, it did the last time.”

Andrew came up behind me and whispered in my ear, “What’s happening?”

“It’s Mr. Wilson and Eleanor. I think they’re getting freaky.”

“Would you quit fumbling and just do it already,” Eleanor snapped.

“I won’t if you want to act like that.” The door began to open and he said, “Do it yourself, then.”

My eyes widened, as did Andrews. Our eyes locked on Mr. Wilson, who had his robe wrapped closely around his narrow frame. “Don’t just stand there, help out Eleanor. I tried, but she wouldn’t let me and now she’s in a fix for sure.”

“What?”

“Get your mind out of the gutter, old girl. Her zipper, Eleanor needs help with her zipper,” he said as he trounced away and Andrew followed him, his laughter echoing up the hallway.

When I walked into the bathroom, Eleanor was indeed in an awful fix. She was bent over at the waist. Her arms were halfway in the sleeves of her sweater, one shoulder raised in a dangerous position, her other arm stuck backward, obviously stuck in the fabric.

“Oh, my. I’m afraid I don’t know quite what to do.”

“That’s not what I want to hear. Help me out of this sweater. I feel faint.”

I moved into action, trying to lift the sweater off one arm, until Eleanor winced. “Oh, bother. I should fetch a pair of scissors,” I suggested. “Otherwise, you might just be stuck in there until dinnertime.”

“No way. This is cashmere.”

“Since when do you wear cashmere, or any sweater in this heat?”

“Because I wanted to, is all. Can’t a girl look nice for her man?”

“Sure she can, but what size is this sweater?”

“It’s a size twelve.”

I tried not to laugh. “I thought you wore a size sixteen?”

“Oh, please get me out of this sweater. I don’t care anymore. Run and get the scissors then.”

“Are you sure you’ll be okay?” I asked on my way to the door.

“Please hurry,” was her response.

I hustled out the door and headed into the elevator since I didn’t have any scissors in my suitcase. There was no way I’d be allowed to carry something like that on the airplane, so I’d left them at home.

Once I was on the first floor, I ran to the front counter. “Could I borrow a pair of scissors?” I asked Lois.

She looked at me in my pink ruffled bathrobe and asked, “Whatever for, and why are you wearing your bathrobe down here? We run a respectable hotel here, you know.”

“Eleanor was trying to put on her sweater and it was the wrong size. So, she’s stuck in it. If I don’t cut her out of her sweater, and soon, she might just fall out on the floor. That won’t look too good for the Goldberg, now will it?” I held out my hand until a pair of scissors appeared on my palm.

“Fine, but you bring them right back, you hear?”

I raced back to the elevator, ignoring a group of women who were just coming out of it, and also the gasps of indignation that I totally ignored as I went into the elevator and pushed the number three button.

Within minutes, I headed back into the bathroom, but instead of Eleanor still trapped in her clothing, she was putting her makeup on at the mirror.

“Eleanor? What happened? I-I th—”

“Well, I was stuck pretty good, but someone helped me out.”

“Who?” I asked, searching the small bathroom.

“I’m really not sure, but he was a tall one. With a few cuts with his knife, I was free.”

“Him … knife? What on earth, Eleanor?”

“I’m not sure, but like I said, by the time I turned to see who it was, he was long gone—and the room was so cold.”

“Weren’t you scared when someone wielding a knife cut you out of your sweater?”

Poised to apply her red lipstick, she replied, “Actually, I was really hurting at the time so I just didn’t care.”

“You didn’t get nicked, did you?”

“I don’t think so.” Eleanor lifted her bathrobe so that I could take a look underneath and her skin didn’t have a mark on it, except for the plentiful moles she already had.

I let the fabric go and said, “That’s so odd, and I’m just a little concerned. I mean, for all you know, a man came in here to hurt you, or a malevolent spirit.”

“I’m not sure, but all I know is that I’m now free of that sweater. It’s over there in the trash can if you want to take a look-see.”

I pulled the remnants of her sweater out of the trash and examined the rips in the fabric that were long and jagged, with exposed threads. “You don’t think The Cutter came in here, do you?”

“The Cutter?” Eleanor eased herself onto the closed toilet seat. “Th-That’s not possible. I mean, he chased us out of the library just yesterday. Didn’t you say that he always stays in the library?”

“I thought so, but if it’s not The Cutter, then who else could it be?”

“Beats me, Agnes, but why not ask Caroline? Maybe she’ll know.”

Eleanor disappeared out the door and I took a bath, more nervous than ever. If The Cutter was just here once, what would be stopping him from coming back? I certainly didn’t want a Psycho-type scene reenactment. Then I figured I was taking a bath, not a shower, so considered myself safe from that type of scenario.