Raven's Rest (6 page)

Lonnie grinned. “Whatever you say, Michael. Or Mike. Mikey-mike.”

He certainly wasn’t your typical desk clerk at an inn, but then he’d been nice to me and honored my request not to mention my incident in the Raven Suite to anyone, so I overlooked his cheekiness. It didn’t hurt that his smile was infectious. “Maybe we should go back to Mr. Cook,” I said.

“Sure, Michael. Anyway, I thought you’d like to see this.”

He slid a book across the counter to me. It looked like a scrapbook or a photo album. I opened it to find a picture of the Raven’s Rest, taken from the far end of the parking lot.

“It’s an album my mom started keeping,” Lonnie explained. “Pretty much everything she could find on the inn. Its history, the previous owners, whatever. See? Here’s a picture from the
Banning Herald
, showing the house as it was back in the 1920s.”

“A lot smaller back then.”

“Yeah, you can see here where they did a lot of the adding on. That was around 1950. Here’s how the house looked in 1980, when Coleman Hollis lived here.”

In that photograph the house looked much more like it did now, although it lacked the additional rooms that had been added on the western end, and it had an attached garage that was no longer there. It was hard to tell from the picture, which had been clipped out of a newspaper, but I thought I could see signs of construction just at the edge of the photo. The caption read “Hollis House Renovations Underway.”

“That’s what Darryl Hollis was going to call it originally. When he turned it into an inn. The Hollis House. For some reason, he decided on Raven’s Rest instead.”

“Maybe the ghosts changed his mind,” I said, only half joking.

Lonnie nodded. “Maybe. Anyway, look at this.” He turned a leaf, and there was a Polaroid shot of Coleman Hollis and another young man. Coleman was sitting on a porch swing at the front of the house, and the other person was standing next to him. The colors had faded somewhat over time, but Coleman’s blond hair was just as I had seen it in my vision, or whatever I’d had. He was wearing flared jeans, a white shirt, and had a beaded necklace around his neck. It appeared that the photographer had asked Coleman to smile and he’d done his best, but it was a sad smile.

My eye was drawn, though, to his companion. The young man standing was tall and thin and wore black-framed glasses. He had long brown hair that swooped over his right eye and a very serious expression.

More to the point, though, he could have been my twin.

“This is him,” I said. “This is the other guy I saw.”

“Look at the back of the picture,” Lonnie told me.

The Polaroid was affixed to the album by notches on opposite corners. All I had to do was pluck it out. I did so and turned the picture over. There, in a faded scrawl, were the words
Coleman and Bryan Finn, 1983
.

I felt a chill across the back of my neck as I read the names aloud. “Do you know anything about this Bryan Finn?” I asked.

Lonnie shook his head. “Not a thing. Looks familiar, though, don’t he?”

“He could be a relative.”

“Fuck that,” Lonnie said, and then his gaze darted around to make sure no one overheard his cursing. Apparently it was okay that I did. “I got a cousin, and he don’t look like me. That’s you, to a
T
. Okay, the glasses are different, but otherwise, it could be you.”

“Except I wasn’t born yet.”

“Yeah,” Lonnie replied, nodding sagely. “I wonder if this Bryan Finn is still alive.”

“Looks like he was in his early twenties there. He’d only be, what, in his early fifties now. Do you know of any Finns in Banning?”

“Nope. And when I saw this picture, I asked Ma. She didn’t either, and she knows most people in town. She said there was a Finn family years ago, an older couple, but they moved away.”

“I wonder how I could find out more about this Bryan Finn. Does the local library keep old newspaper archives?”

Lonnie shrugged. “Beats me. Never been to the library here. You could try it, though.”

The front door opened just then, and a woman entered. I found it hard to gauge her age. My first impression was forty, maybe forty-five, but I amended that when I saw the lines on her face and the crow’s feet around her eyes and added five more years to my guess. She walked with an air of authority, and I wasn’t surprised to see that under her green jacket she wore a sheriff’s uniform. She strode in and nodded to Lonnie.

“Your mom in?” she asked.

“She’s in the dining room.”

The sheriff seemed to notice me for the first time. She arched an eyebrow and approached with an outstretched hand. “And you must be Michael Cook.”

She had a firm handshake, I’d give her that. “I’m not sure it’s a good thing when the town’s law enforcement knows about you when you’ve only been in town a few days,” I said.

Laughing, she explained, “I’m friends with Gloria Ramsey. She’s told me all about you.”

Was there that much to tell? I wondered just what my new boss had been saying. Lonnie provided the introductions. “Mr. Cook, this is Deputy Sheriff Erin Hughes.”

“Pleased to meet you,” I said.

“Gloria tells me you’re looking for a permanent place to live here in Banning,” Hughes said. “Have you checked out the Lincoln Apartments on Fourth Street? They’re pretty nice, and the rates are good.”

“I haven’t yet, no, but they’re on my list.”

“Deputy Hughes’s brother owns them,” Lonnie informed me, “so she might be a tad prejudiced in their favor.”

The deputy grinned. “Don’t mean they aren’t good. Well, it was nice to meet you, Mr. Cook. I’d best be heading in to see what your mom needed, Lonnie. If it’s about the vandals, I hope she knows we’re patrolling the best we can.”

When she had left us, Lonnie explained, “We had some trouble last week with some of the neighborhood kids. Smashed our mailbox and spray painted some words on our porch.”

“That explains why it looks freshly painted. What did they write?”

Lonnie smiled mirthlessly. “Hell house.”

TREY AND
I were finishing up the lunch dishes. He was spraying them off, and I was loading them onto the rack and then I’d shove them into the big dishwasher.

“You don’t understand,” I said. “He didn’t just resemble me. He
was
me.”

Trey looked like he was trying not to let his skepticism show too much. “So you’re saying you’re this Bryan guy’s reincarnation.”

“I don’t know what to think. But if he died sometime in the 1980s, I wasn’t born until 1990, so it’s possible. When I met her, I should have asked Deputy Hughes if she knew about Bryan Finn.”

“She’s in here all the time,” Trey said, rinsing off the last water glass. “You can ask her next time she’s here.” Handing me the glass, he yelled over his shoulder, “Ma! You ever hear of a guy named Bryan Finn?”

Gloria Ramsey was working on the books in her office space, which was really just a little area sectioned off from the rest of the kitchen by a partition. She leaned back so she could see us and thought a moment, tapping her pen against her teeth.

“Finn?” she said. “Yeah, there was a Finn family lived here years ago. I think they did have a son named Bryan. Why do you ask?”

“Michael saw a picture of him, and apparently they look alike.”

Frowning, Trey’s mother rose from her chair and stood leaning against the partition. “You know, I knew you reminded me of someone when I first met you, Michael. Mind you, I was just a little kid when they were around. I think I sold them some Girl Scout cookies!”

“What happened to him?” I asked.

“Bryan? Can’t say as I know.” She stuck the pen behind her ear. “Come to think of it, I think there was some talk around town that he’d run off with the Hollis boy. I didn’t really understand it at the time, and everyone spoke about it in hushed whispers. Of course, back then two gay guys running off together was big news for a town like Banning. But this town has always lived off gossip. I think I also heard that Coleman met a girl somewhere and got married. Just shows you how many stories there are floating around this burg!”

Amanda, one of the waitresses, whom I’d worked with twice now (and whom I gathered was Trey’s cousin), came back with her ticket pad, looking flustered. “We’ve got a late one. She just wants coffee and a scone, though, so you don’t have to cook anything.” She was mainly annoyed, or so I guessed, because waiting on another table meant she wouldn’t get off on time and thus would be late for her movie date, which we’d heard about all morning. “And it’s the crazy witch, of course, so she’ll be here for ages.”

“She’s a big tipper, though,” Trey said, attempting consolation. When Amanda’s sour face didn’t change, he added, “I’ll bring out her stuff and clean up after her, if you want. You can go on and meet your boyfriend.”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Amanda protested, although you could have fooled me. The only time I’d seen a smile on Amanda’s face was when she was waxing poetic about this Cody’s charms. “But thanks. I’ll leave you to take care of the crazy bitch.”

Trey had started to get the scone and coffee ready, but I stopped him from actually taking the order out to the table. “I’ll do that,” I said.

He eyed me suspiciously. “This is because I said she tipped big, isn’t it?”

“No,” I replied with a smile. “But I’m assuming it’s Jesenia Maupin, and I’d like to talk to her.”

“Of course it’s her. The town’s only got the one crazy witch. Well, apart from my mother.”

“I heard that!” Gloria had gone back to her bookkeeping, but her words sailed over the partition.

I went out into the dining room. When I set the tray down in front of Jesenia, who was wearing strings and strings of Mardi Gras beads around her neck in addition to her Town Witch button, she seemed to have been expecting me. She favored me with a sly smile.

“So how do you like your new job?”

“I’m enjoying it so far.”

She looked back to the kitchen, where Trey could be heard starting the dishwasher. “It’s good to have a friend, isn’t it?” There was a knowing twinkle in her eyes.

“I know gossip travels fast, but I didn’t realize Trey and I could be considered an item yet.” After all, we’d only shared a couple of kisses. Granted, they were very public ones.

“He’s a good guy,” Jesenia stated simply. “He tries to be a badass, but he’s really a sweetheart.”

“I’ve gathered that.” I hesitated, not sure how I should word my request. I realized that nothing I said could surprise Jesenia Maupin, so I just blurted it out. “Do you believe in reincarnation?”

“What a silly question. Of course I do.” She shoved the chair opposite her out with her foot. “Sit. You and I have much to discuss.”

I did as instructed, first looking back to see if Trey or anyone could see us. It wasn’t that they’d mind me sitting with a customer. The Coffee Cafe prided itself on family atmosphere and being friendly, as well as being almost entirely staffed by Gloria Ramsey’s relatives, so my sitting with Jesenia wouldn’t bother my employer. I was more concerned that Trey might think I was being silly, which I probably was. Still, if Jesenia could provide any information, I needed to have it.

“Did you know Bryan Finn?” I asked.

My question didn’t surprise Jesenia. “I was around back then, of course. But I didn’t really know him. I was the same age as Coleman Hollis, though. We were at school together and shared a few classes. Bryan Finn was a year behind us.”

“Do you know what happened to them?”

Jesenia cocked her head and stirred some sugar into her coffee. “According to Darryl Hollis, Coleman left after he and Bryan Finn had a big fight and eventually met some woman and got married. Bryan, legend has it, left to go after Coleman, but no one seems to know what happened to him. Neither one of them ever came back to Banning.”

“But if Coleman’s ghost haunts the Raven’s Rest, something must have happened to them.”

Leaning forward, Jesenia asked me, “Have you seen Coleman’s spirit?”

There seemed little reason not to be candid. “Yes.”

“Then that answers your question.”

“I’ve seen a picture of Bryan Finn. He looks just like me.”

“Which is why you were asking about reincarnation.”

I nodded. “Is it possible that somehow I’m him?”

Jesenia shrugged. “Possible, yes.” She pushed her tray aside, the coffee and scone untouched. From out of the pocket of her oversized sweater, she removed a deck of cards. They were larger than regular playing cards, and I recognized them at once as a tarot deck. “Are you ready for that reading I promised you?”

I wasn’t sure what some cards could tell me, but I was willing to try anything. “Yes,” I said.

“Shuffle the cards and tap the deck. Three times.”

I did so. Jesenia proceeded to lay the cards out in a pattern. Four cards down one side and the rest in a square shape, with one card holding center court. “This card represents you.”

I looked at it. “The Fool?”

“A card of beginnings and innocence.” She laid a card over the Fool. I recognized it from countless horror movies. On it was depicted a skeleton in armor riding a white horse.

“Death,” I said. “That can’t be good.”

Jesenia wrinkled her nose. “It means endings and beginnings. Change. Transformation. Don’t believe what you see on TV. It’s not a bad card. Not usually.” She indicated another card, the top card in the cross. “This represents the path that led you to where you are today. You’ve had a difficult journey.”

“That’s an understatement.”

“This card is your past.”

I looked. “The Lovers. And it’s upside down.”

“You have ambivalent feelings about a relationship. You must listen to your heart at this time. Trust your gut. Your heart knows what is right for you, and it’s important that you don’t overthink the outcome.” She continued with the reading, telling me what she divined through the cards and their placement. It was all pretty general, and even though there were some points that struck a chord with me, I put it down to coincidence until she came to the last card, the top of the four in the line.

“This is your outcome. The Hanged Man, reversed.”