The Ghost and Mrs. Mewer (A Paws and Claws Mystery Book 2) (9 page)

Zelda pushed a cart across the plaza in front of us, handing out lanterns and lighting the candles inside them. Felix, Mark, Grayson, and Brian wedged next to me to take lanterns. Felix’s eyes met Zelda’s, and they both grinned.

A spark!
But why was Mark on the ghost tour? I guessed that people grieve differently. Maybe Felix coaxed him to come along, just to distract him for a while. After all, he was presumably Wagtail’s foremost authority on ghosts. He might have even helped Rose prepare for the ghostly happenings in Wagtail.

I glanced down at Trixie. Casper nuzzled her like they were already old friends.

“The year is 1885,” said Rose. “In the dark of night, the only lights in Wagtail come from gas lamps.” She pointed her finger toward the sky as if casting a spell.

At that moment, the streetlights dimmed, and if I hadn’t known better, I would have sworn they had gas flames. The crowd gasped.

“Follow me, my dears—if you dare!” Rose cackled so wickedly that a chill shivered through me. Who knew that sweet Rose could sound so devilish?

Carrying lanterns, we fell in behind her as she led the way through Wagtail, stopping at various houses to tell ghostly tales. The residents of the homes along our route had agreed to play the game by turning off most of their electric lights.

Menacing pumpkins leered at us. Chains rattled and eerie moans issued from some houses. Ghosts peered out of windows and witches guarded porches. Dogs barked everywhere—not surprising in Wagtail—but some howled, and at one house, an organ played music worthy of an old Christopher Lee movie, accompanied by a mournful howl that elicited sympathy howls from the dogs in our group, including Trixie and Casper. Dry leaves rustled underfoot and a gust, as though prearranged, kicked them up now and then.

In between two locations, I noticed Mark walking with Eva, and I found myself with Lillian and GloryB, Grayson, Felix and Casper, and Brian.

“Thanks for the dinner, Holly,” said Felix. “That was really nice of you.”

I was afraid to ask if Mark was feeling better. How could he be? Mallory’s death had to be a shock to him. I changed to another subject. “Are you supposed to hear all this? Don’t you go to haunted houses cold, without knowing the background?”

Felix shrugged. “We usually do research before we visit a haunted building. It’s not like we’re psychics who are supposed to figure out what happened. We’re just checking for paranormal phenomena.”

Felix squinted toward a cat on a fence. “They’ve done a great job here. Seriously, I can’t tell if that’s a real cat or a prop. This must be incredibly scary for kids who trick-or-treat.”

The cat meowed as we walked by, but I still wasn’t sure if it was real, either. In any case, it wasn’t a Siamese.

“Wagtail has to be a hotbed of paranormal activity.” Brian spoke eagerly, as though he could barely contain himself.

“Have you been here before?” I asked.

Brian shook his head. “This is all new territory for us. But Luciano hit it right this time. We’re bound to find something.”

“People used to come here for the mineral springs, right?” asked Felix. “It only stands to reason that a good number of them were sick and died here.”

“These streets are probably teeming with spirits right now.” Brian held his lantern higher as though he thought he might see them.

That creeped me out a little bit. Outside of the Halloween decorations, I didn’t see anything unusual, though. “Do
you
see them?”

“It’s not like that. Most of them are going about their business. But once in a while, one might touch your shoulder, or you’ll feel a cold whiff of air. That’s a ghost brushing by you.”

I shivered again in spite of myself, even though I knew a whiff of cold air was easily explained by something as common as a breeze.

“Our main focus is the Wagtail Springs Hotel.” Brian peered at me. “Know anything about it? Maybe we could have a drink later tonight and you could fill me in?”

I might not believe in ghosts, but the Wagtail Springs Hotel could send chills down anyone’s spine. “It’s definitely creepy—like most unoccupied buildings.”

“You’re a skeptic, aren’t you?” asked Felix.

“I’m sorry.” It was just as well that they knew. I wouldn’t have to keep up pretenses.

“Don’t apologize,” said Felix. “I was, too.”

“What changed your mind?”

“A few years back, I was staying in an English castle with very aristocratic and stiff-upper-lip sort of people when the cook rushed out of the kitchen in a panic. Naturally, we hurried
into
the kitchen, and it was the strangest thing I’ve ever seen. Cookbooks were hurling through the air. The cook had a roast in the oven, but that kitchen was as cold as a freezer. Naturally, I assumed the flying cookbooks were a setup for the benefit of the guests and the kitchen was cold because castles aren’t insulated. All that stone, you know? But I went back in the morning to look around in daylight. The temperature was perfectly normal.”

“Did you check to see if the cookbooks were rigged?”

“Naturally. I’m a scientist by training, so I’m not prone to believing every silly thing. But I examined those books very carefully. They were perfectly normal. No strings attached, no holes or weights or evidence of, well . . . anything. That was the event that triggered my interest.”

“So you think because you couldn’t see any other mechanism, that meant a ghost was throwing the books?” I couldn’t help being doubtful.

Felix grinned at me. “That’s the old argument. How do we know it was a ghost if we don’t have tangible evidence of one? We can’t blame everything we don’t understand on the paranormal. I get that, which is why I find it all so fascinating.”

I liked Felix. He wasn’t defensive about his position on ghosts. He clearly gave it a lot of thought and wasn’t prone to jumping to conclusions.

I excused myself and pretended to fall back to speak to someone else. When everyone gathered to hear the next ghost tale, I sprinted away with Trixie and cut through the streets to the dark and gloomy Wagtail Springs Hotel.

On the front porch, I held up my lantern to see where I was going. The door screeched when I opened it. The hotel had fallen into disuse a long time ago, so I expected the worst.

Candles flickered in the lobby.

I shrieked at the sight of another person, and felt incredibly stupid when I realized my own reflection in a strategically placed mirror had scared me. The glass bore veins of age and a creepy film. It probably frightened everyone who entered.

Rose’s committee had done a splendid job of decorating the old inn for Howloween. I guessed it was for the upcoming costume gala. Cobwebs hung where they would brush the tops of some heads. Spiders crawled up the registration desk. Scary hands reached out of the old-fashioned cubbies where keys and mail would have been held for guests.

In spite of all that, the thing that surprised me the most was the perfect condition of the building. Behind the decorations, the walls didn’t appear to be dingy or ruined at all. The ornate registration desk had been carefully restored. Walnut, I guessed, with six beautifully carved panels across the front depicting deer.

Someone had cleaned it up quite nicely. In daylight, I bet the old hotel wasn’t one bit scary inside.

Trixie tugged toward a hallway that led to the back. The group would be arriving soon, though. “No time for exploring now, Trixie.”

We hurried up the stairs and easily found room number ten. Exactly as promised, the bag with the Becca Wraith costume awaited us. I closed and locked the door, just in case other faux ghosts were roaming the hotel for the show, and set the lantern on a dresser, wondering why there would even be a dresser and a plastic-covered mattress in the room. It was as though someone had planned to open the hotel.

I unsnapped the leash so Trixie could sniff around.

Rose must have had the dress custom-made by someone in town. Had Mallory sewn her own costume? Maybe Becca had become so popular that they could be bought off the rack in Wagtail.

Panels of gleaming satin comprised the skirt of the white gown. The top had been studded with sparkles that caught the light. But over the top of the dress, a gauzy fabric had been made to appear dirty. The sleeves were lightly shredded, as though it had been buried underground for a long time. I coiled my milk chocolate brown hair into a loose bun on top of my head and wiggled the long white wig over it, much as Mallory must have done the night before. I assumed I was to apply the white makeup in the bag. I smeared it on, checking my progress in the mirror over the dresser. It caused the skin around my eyes to appear dark and haunted. The ring of black roses turned out to be real. Where on Earth did they find black roses to dry? I set it on my head carefully and finished the costume by pulling on white gloves.

The dress dragged along the floor when I walked, which I imagined was the look they had wanted. Through the glass door to the upper-level porch, I could see the lanterns of the ghost walkers nearing in the distance. Leaving Trixie safely in the room, I stepped out onto the porch.

A mist rose around me, and someone in the approaching crowd screamed. I assumed it was because of me. How would a ghost walk? Stiffly, perhaps? That didn’t seem right. Maybe they floated gracefully. I drifted along the length of the porch slowly, barely picking up my feet. Taking a cue from Rose, I carried the lantern low, hoping the light would diffuse, making me seem more ethereal. My other hand hung limp.

As they gathered below, I disappeared into room ten again.

Rose probably should have given me cues so I would know when to appear in the windows. No matter, I would just have to wing it. I opened the door to the hallway and peered down the corridor. I assumed I was supposed to show up in different windows. Thankfully, I could hear her speaking.

“The most famous haunted structure in these mountains is the Wagtail Springs Hotel. While you may wish to think there are no such things as ghosts, no matter what you believe, the facts of this tragedy remain historically accurate.”

Faux candles suddenly switched on in the corridor behind me.

Rose spoke in a slow, calm voice.
“During the civil war, Dr. Ira Wraith converted the Wagtail Springs Hotel into a hospital for the few lucky souls who managed to survive the long trip up the mountain. Dr. Wraith’s daughter, Becca, was known far and wide for her astonishing beauty.”

Aha! My name. I should probably make an appearance. I stumbled over the long gown in my hurry to appear on the porch.

“Raven locks tumbled down her back, and her eyes were said to be bluer than the twilight sky of the harvest moon. Suitors came and went, none winning the hand of the lovely Becca until the day Hiram Montacue came to Wagtail to study medicine under the tutelage of her father. Becca and Hiram fell in love immediately and soon planned to marry.”

I faded away by walking backward and nearly tripping again. Picking up my skirt, I walked to the far room, planning to appear on the porch when it seemed appropriate. But it dawned on me that no one was screaming when I appeared. Maybe I was supposed to go downstairs? In a low voice, I called Trixie.

She was digging for something between the mattress and the wall.

“Leave that alone,” I hissed. “Come on, Trixie!”

Lifting the skirt, I tried to glide down the stairs. A good move. The front door hung open and a machine spewed a mysterious fog. I heard people gasp outside.

Rose’s tone became ominous.
“But the devil arrived in Wagtail—in the guise of snake oil salesman Obadiah Bagley.”

I raised my arms to seem like I was misty, and peered out a window. This time someone screamed.

Oddly enough, while I had heard the story of Obadiah Bagley as a child, I never gave any thought to its authenticity. Had these things really happened in Wagtail? Maybe the core of the story had, but the ghost part must have grown out of folklore as it was repeated. I backed away again and headed for another room.

Rose continued.
“Obadiah quickly made a name for himself when his magical elixir cured the snakebites of several hunters. People flocked to him to buy his potion as a cure for all that ailed them. But Dr. Wraith cautioned them and denounced Obadiah as a dangerous quack.
Unfortunately, Obadiah set his sights on the doctor’s beautiful daughter. He went to Becca’s father and asked for her hand in marriage. The angry and distraught doctor refused. In a stormy argument, Dr. Wraith threw Obadiah out exactly where I stand right now!”

There wasn’t another sound, as though everyone was entranced.

Rose continued the story.
“Embarrassed and humiliated, Obadiah disappeared. Naturally, everyone thought they were done with him.”

A tremor tinged Rose’s voice.
“Two days later, on All Hallows’ Eve, the day of her wedding”
—undoubtedly my cue, I walked to the window—
“Becca perfumed herself with lavender and wore a ring of pink roses in her hair. That morning, a black panther guarded the door to the bathhouse. Dr. Wraith shot over his head to frighten him and the animal ran to the woods. The doctor discovered Obadiah’s lifeless body floating in the mineral bath behind the Wagtail Springs Hotel. Becca rushed to see him and broke through the crowd of townspeople that tried to detain her from the grisly sight. Before their very eyes, Becca’s raven locks turned completely white from the fright.”

This time I slammed into the window and was rewarded by several screams. I pulled back and searched for another window.

“In spite of the horrific death of Obadiah, Hiram insisted the wedding proceed. It was the social event of the year in Wagtail. Everyone had turned out dressed in their finest.”

She paused.
“Everyone but Becca. The bride never showed up to her own wedding. Becca left Hiram standing alone at the altar, brokenhearted.”

Rose let the impact sink in before she continued.
“While townspeople gathered for her wedding, Becca returned to the site of Obadiah’s death, where she discovered a brass button with the shape of a man and his dog on it—a button she knew to be from one of Hiram’s coats. Everyone in Wagtail thought Hiram had drowned the odious Obadiah, including Becca, who declared that she could never marry a man who had it in his soul to murder. Hiram pleaded with her, but Becca turned a cold heart to Hiram. Now, you might think that Wagtail was finished with Obadiah. After all, he was dead. But that didn’t stop Obadiah’s ghost from returning a few days later with a dozen rattlesnakes.”

I waltzed through the lobby again and peered into a room in time to see someone holding up writhing snakes.

I screamed at the same time as the crowd outside. I backed up fast, my heart pounding. Surely the snakes couldn’t be real. Trixie barked and dashed into the room where someone was pretending to be the ghost of Obadiah.

“Trixie,” I whispered. “Trixie!”

She turned and ran toward me, wagging her tail as though she was having fun.

Rose continued the story.
“He brought them to the Wagtail Springs Hotel. Obadiah tossed half the snakes in the lobby and carried the remaining snakes to room number three on the first floor, where Hiram was tending a patient. The guests, Dr. Wraith, and his horrified family fled outside.”

Screams rose from inside the hotel. Where were they coming from? They must have been recorded. The front door slammed shut. I peered into the lobby but didn’t see anyone. How did they do that? As long as it wasn’t the snake guy, I would be fine. If those snakes were real, I didn’t want to meet him.

“But the door to room number three slammed on Hiram when he tried to escape, trapping him there.”

A woman outside screamed. More screams arose in the crowd. I called Trixie and headed upstairs in a hurry, assuming the main part about Becca was over.

“Try as he might, Hiram could not open the door. He pressed himself against the window”
—she paused, and I could hear banging somewhere inside the hotel—
“and begged for help. A few sympathetic townspeople brought hammers and axes, but no one could break the glass. They tried to enter the hotel, but the black panther returned and sat exactly where I stand at this moment, preventing anyone from entering the inn.”

Trixie and I reached the top of the stairs. I wondered if I should make a brief appearance on the upper balcony.

“Hiram screamed as the snakes bit him. Without Obadiah’s magic elixir, there was no hope of saving him. Dr. Wraith stepped forward to say, ‘Repent and confess or the devil shall take thee to him for thy evil deed.’

“You would think Hiram might have done just that to save his life, but Hiram cried out, ‘There is no evil in my heart. I curse thee, Ira Wraith. Ye and thy progeny shall never know true love, and all that ye gain in life, ye shall lose. Misfortune and misery shall be the lot of the Wraiths until the day the truth be known.’

“His pleas and cries for help grew weaker as the venom consumed him. A local hunter arrived and shot the panther, who ran into the woods to die. They were finally able to enter the inn and found the door to room three unlocked, with Hiram dead on the floor.”

The dim lights inside the hotel went out, leaving Trixie and me in the dark again, except for the lantern.

“Becca Wraith could not bear the sorrow or the guilt that two men had died because of her.”

I opened the glass door and waited. A scratching noise drew my attention. I raised the lantern. Trixie was digging at something near the mattress again. “Stop that!” I hissed.

“She became a recluse in a small cottage near the cemetery, in the place now known as Wraith’s Hollow. The black panther found her there, and she was able to heal his wounds. She was known for her herbs and poultices, and many called her a witch. The panther never again left her side. There are some who believe that Hiram or Obadiah’s spirit inhabited the panther. Becca lived a long life, and the panther lived an abnormally long life, dying minutes after Becca did.

“To this day, Becca’s ghost can be seen in the hotel”
—I drifted outside on the porch, trying to appear light and airy—
“and walking through Wagtail, wearing a ring of black roses in her white hair. Many have heard the rattle of the snakes in room number three. But it is Hiram who is most often seen about town, searching for his beloved Becca. And on rare occasions, Becca’s father, old Dr. Wraith, has been seen roaming the grounds of the Wagtail Springs Hotel.”

After a moment of drama-filled silence, Rose said, “And now, please join us in the center of town where we’ll be bobbing for apples. The merchants have some special treats for the kids! And we have tarot card readers waiting to tell you
your
future!”

I hustled inside, closed the door, and hastily changed back to my own clothes. Ugh. How would I get the white makeup off? A roll of paper towels in the bathroom had probably been left there by Rose exactly for the purpose of removing makeup. The lantern cast eerie shadows, making the hotel seem ghoulish, but the truth was that someone had spent a lot of money on refurbishing the place.

The bathroom was designed in an old-fashioned style with a claw-foot tub, but there wasn’t anything old about it. Everything seemed new and unused.

Trixie returned to the mattress. She struggled to wedge her paw between the wall and the mattress. When that didn’t work, she dug on the mattress again.

“Stop that!”

She went back to pawing the spot next to the wall. I finally shoved the mattress over an inch. An odd orange ball clung to the wall. Trixie pulled and pulled, wagging her tail. I didn’t think she could hurt it, so I let her have her fun.

I managed to wash off most of the makeup. I was packing the dress and headgear in the bag as Rose had when I heard a
pop
. Trixie wagged happily, carrying the orange ball in her mouth. It sprouted a concave part that looked like it was intended for suction. She’d managed to pull it off the wall.

Hmm. We probably shouldn’t exit through the front door. Even though most people probably realized everything was staged, it seemed preferable to exit where we wouldn’t be so obvious. Proudly carrying her orange trophy, Trixie led the way through a narrow corridor to a kitchen that was obviously intended for restaurant use. I lifted my lantern and turned around. No freezers or refrigerators. No ovens, either, but I spied a fancy grill. Whoever was renovating the kitchen hadn’t finished the job.

I couldn’t get over how good the interior of the hotel looked. It was almost ready for business.

Trixie ran to a back door, her nose to the floor. I opened the door, and we exited onto a small stone patio that led to a steep stairway with confining walls on both sides.

No one had bothered to update this area of the hotel. An ominous feeling overcame me that I couldn’t shake off. The stairs looked like something out of a horror movie.

Trixie turned and barked ferociously at something behind me. The door slammed open, and in the dark shadows, I made out a man raising snakes in the air.

My scream must have echoed all the way down the mountain.