A Ghost of a Chance Read online

  “Girls,” is all he says as he makes his way to the bookshelf on the far wall.

  “Professor,” Blair says slowly and seductively as he passes by.

  The last thing I witness before the vision blurs is the sly smile on James’ and Blair’s faces while Lori looks on in shock.

  Chapter Fourteen

  I’m standing in the doorway of an exquisite art gallery filled with local artwork, much of it hand-blown glass and delicate ceramics. In the state I’m in, another night of little sleep and haunting dreams, I don’t trust my clumsy self to enter the store. Alicia hands me a coffee as she passes me at the door and I know there will be a hallowed place in heaven for this petite public relations goddess.

  “Bless you,” I manage and she looks back with a cute smile.

  “What’s the matter with you, now?” Winnie asks. “Not enough rest?”

  I look at my new friend with longing, wanting so much to tell her everything. “Winnie, it’s not what you think.”

  She waves her hand in the air and saunters off. “I’m not thinking anything.”

  Bless the shop owner’s heart as well, for he’s brought in an array of baked goods and tiny quiches, which Irene studies intensely and asks, “Do you have anything gluten free?” and Winnie rolls her eyes.

  After we all grab a bite and the owner explains how the beauty and history of Eureka Springs makes for the perfect art colony, dating back to FDR’s time when Cora Pinkley-Call started the Ozark Writers’ and Artists’ Guild, we head to the back of the store where a staircase leads down to a variety of fine art. I grab Winnie before she descends.

  “I really was exhausted last night and on my way to bed.”

  “God, Vi, I’m not your mother.”

  When she turns, I grab her sleeve again. “That woman was the mayor’s cousin.”

  She’s bending but she’s not all there. “Whatever.”

  “You don’t know this but there was an incident on my morning tour.” This stops Winnie from leaving and she looks back curiously, like any good journalist. “That woman was part of it and the mayor’s furious at me and Merrill came to explain what happened.”

  Winnie pulls up close. “What did happen?”

  “You’re not going to believe me.”

  She gives me the mom stare.

  “O-kay.” Here goes. “I saw a vision of three dead girls covered in blood by the side of this lake. And I screamed. The police came and found a bone of a person sticking out of the bank, most likely someone long dead. That woman and a bunch of protestors showed up because they’re trying to save the town’s springs which have become polluted over time and then the TV station arrived.”

  Winnie puckers up her face and I’m not sure she’s with me. “It looks like those bones are from an old murder case,” I continue. “Kinda like what happened in the cave.”

  I’m grimacing, waiting for the backlash, that Winnie imagines I’m either mentally deranged or pulling her leg but instead she opens her mouth like a freshwater trout. “No frickin’ way!”

  “Unfortunately way.” I pull her aside knowing we only have a few minutes before they will call for us. “Please don’t tell anyone although it’s probably in the newspaper this morning.”

  Winnie pinches my arm. “You have to tell me more.”

  I give her the Scouts honor sign and we head downstairs to view a bunch of Ozark scenes encapsulated in oils and watercolors. I look over and Winnie’s practically bursting with questions.

  Two hours and several galleries later with a quick trip to Keel’s Creek Winery for a lovely tasting of local wines that are thankfully not muscadine, a painfully sweet grape that grows in the Deep South, we head over to the Basin Park Hotel’s balcony restaurant and join the others. We learn that Carmine and Richard spent the morning visiting nearby Beaver Lake on a fishing excursion and Holly enjoyed a private tour of local gardens.

  Winnie grabs my arm and leads me to a table that only sits two, pushing Richard aside.

  “Hey,” Richard objects. “I’m sitting there.”

  “Not anymore.”

  You don’t mess with Winnie, I learn. Richard the once stout-hearted moves as far away from us as he can, which pleases us immensely. We sit down at our table overlooking Spring and Center streets and Winnie instantly starts firing off questions. I put up both hands. “Slow down. All in good time.”

  The waiter arrives. “Can I get you something to drink? Ice tea, soft drinks, our Basin chocolatini or the 1905 top shelf margarita?”

  Of course, I don’t let an opportunity like this pass me by, especially since I’m going to enjoy a spa treatment later on. Winnie gets a gin fizz and I vote for chocolate.

  Before either of us can get a word out, our host welcomes us to the Basin Park Hotel, a landmark in the center of town. The hotel rests on the site of the Perry House, which rented rooms and operated a bath house across the street back in the 1800s. The Perry House burned in a fire and the Basin Park Hotel replaced it in 1905, built by William Duncan out of local limestone by those always creative Irish stonemasons. And here I thought the Irish were only famous for black beer, wool sweaters and a good fight?

  The new hotel built on this spot boasted of one hundred rooms complete with telephones, an elevator, electric lights and a ballroom known as “The Roof Garden.” The ballroom’s still there, the owner explains, and of course includes a few hotel guests who refuse to stop dancing. When he starts discussing the other ghosts lingering about, I turn off.

  “You don’t like ghost stories?” Winnie asks, which makes me choke on my drink. “Did last night’s trip to the morgue freak you out little girl?”

  “You have no idea,” I reply.

  Once we get our lunch orders out of the way, and the owner finishes his history lesson that most of us have stopped listening to, Winnie grabs my hands. “Spill!”

  I’m about to explain everything from the cave to the lake when Maddox emerges on to the balcony, broad hat on his head, surveying the scene like a sheriff in an old western. “Shit,” I mutter, pulling my hands from Winnie’s grip. “This may have to wait.”

  “Oh hell no,” she says. “He can take a turn.”

  Maddox sees me and heads my way, pulling a chair from a neighboring table and plopping it down next to us. He straddles it backwards and checks out Winnie while pulling off his hat and straightening out his hair. “Mind if Miss Valentine and I have a talk?”

  Like I said, you don’t mess with Winnie. She crosses her arms and states proudly, “Yes John Wayne, as a matter of fact I do.” I’m so glad I have confided in my new friend for I’m grateful to have a comrade at my back.

  “Fine.” Maddox pulls out his notebook from his back pocket. “Maybe you can help me make sense of this.”

  Winnie shoots me a look that makes me laugh. It’s half what have I gotten myself into and half you better not be shitting me. I try to offer something that will appease them both. “What do you want to know?”

  “First, how did you know about the girl in Sycamore Cave? And don’t tell me you stumbled and found a pile of bones. You asked about some girl to the ENT right after you regained consciousness.”

  “What did the bones tell you?”

  “I’m asking the questions here.”

  I hold up my hands in defense. “I’m just trying to help.”

  He grimaces and I wonder for the umpteenth time why this man couldn’t be nicer to me after all the crime scenes we experienced together. “Forensics were called in from the University of Arkansas,” he finally tells me. “Said there was a dead body in the cave, probably died early twentieth century.”

  I let out a heavy sigh. “Okay, fine. I headed down the path that I wasn’t supposed to because I’m ADHD and I have a hard time following orders.” I look over at Richard and give him the evil eye. He’s wolfing down fried cheese and pauses mid-bite saying, “What?”

  “I heard a noise that I thought might be a wild animal,” I continue. “I shined my flashlight
over to where the noise was coming from and I thought I saw a girl in school clothes crying. It scared me, I slipped backwards and hit my head, lights went out. End of story.”

  He puts his pencil down. “You’re going to tell me that you saw a ghost and that’s why you knew it was a girl’s body down there.”

  “No, actually I saw a living girl who time traveled from the 1920s.” I shouldn’t be sarcastic but I can’t help myself.

  Maddox narrows his eyes. “Then what happened?”

  “I killed her,” I admit. “Somehow I did this sixty years before I was born. Then, because I’m not a bright criminal, I came back to the scene of the crime, walked down to the bowels of the cave and screamed, ‘There’s a dead girl here.’”

  Now Maddox is sending me the evil eye. “Just tell me what the hell happened.”

  “She already told you Jack,” Winnie pipes in and I look over to Winnie sending me a knowing smile. I’ll never badmouth Ole Miss again.

  “She’s told me nothing.” His voice rises, causing Stephanie and Joe to look over, not to mention Henry from his side of the room.

  “You okay, Vi?” Joe asks.

  Maddox exhales and raises his hands. “It’s all good.” To me, he adds, “Look, I’m not here to arrest you, I just want to know what’s going on.”

  I smile confidently because now I’m feeling empowered by friendship. “Do you want me to describe her? Tell you what she was wearing? You can discount it all, I’m sure, because there must be photos of the girls who attended Crescent College and you can easily assume I saw them and made this all up. But I hadn’t seen them before I went in that cave and I saw her. Dressed in a Crescent College uniform. Better yet, do you want me to tell you how she died? Blunt force trauma to her lovely blonde head, although I’m almost sure she was sexually assaulted as well.”

  Maddox stops writing. “How do you know all that?”

  I lean in close and answer as sincerely as possible. “I don’t know how, but I do. I was always a little psychic but ever since Katrina….”

  My former New Orleans native swallows and nods and I’m thankful I don’t have to explain. “And the lake people?”

  “Did you find three sets of bones?”

  Maddox shakes his head. “Are we unclear about who asks the questions?”

  I rub my eyes in frustration. “What did you find?”

  He looks at me sternly, no doubt wondering how much he should divulge. “We found two sets of bones, one at the lake side and one inside that hole in the wall like you suggested to the officer who responded.”

  “Jesus,” Winnie says.

  “There’s another one,” I practically whisper, sliding the beads of perspiration off my glass, anything to avoid that man’s eyes. I still can’t believe I’m saying all this. “I would look at the Cave Spring before you start dragging the lake. But there’s definitely three. And if I’m not mistaken, they were all killed the same way, blow to the head, most likely abused in some way.”

  Maddox sits like a statue before me, staring intently. I finally meet his eyes. “I didn’t kill them.”

  He rises without a word, returns the notebook to his pocket and places the hat on his head. “Don’t leave town.”

  It’s such a cliché that I laugh. Then I realize the tour ends tomorrow. “I think we drive to Bentonville tomorrow to catch our planes home.”

  “We’re having dinner at DeVito’s,” Winnie inserts.

  I send her a why did you have to say that look and she shrugs.

  “I’ll be back,” Maddox says like a scene from another movie and heads out the door.

  We both watch him leave when suddenly I think of something. I run through the restaurant until I reach Maddox at the elevator. “The girl at the Crescent Hotel. The one everyone says jumped or was pushed off the balcony and people see her mist around ten-thirty at night.”

  Maddox rolls his eyes. “Is this another one of your ghost visions?”

  “The guy giving the ghost tour last night said that people see this happening all the time and it’s so real they call it in to the police.”

  The elevator arrives and three people get off. Maddox holds the door open. “Yeah?”

  “Is it true?”

  “How the hell would I know? I don’t believe in that shit.”

  “Can you look into it?”

  He gazes at me intently and I’m waiting for more questions when the elevator door starts beeping.

  “There might be a connection.”

  Maddox shakes his head and I’m convinced he’s blowing me off. But when he climbs in the elevator cab, he says, “I’ll see what I can do.”

  Just before the doors shut, I think of one last thing. “I think the blond girl in the cave is named Blair Marcus and she was from Dallas.”

  The surprised look on Maddox’s face and his attempt to stop the door from closing when he hears this news makes me laugh. The elevator doors clang shut and I’m suddenly staring at myself, which sobers me up. Who are you? I ask my reflection.

  I turn to head back to the restaurant when I nearly run into Henry. “Oh hey, Henry.” I’m feeling nervous around him after what transpired the last couple of days.

  “Everything alright?”

  “Yeah, Madman — I mean Maddox — and I were just going over what happened yesterday at the lake.”

  “What did happen?”

  Now would be a great time for TB to arrive with an armful of research, something that makes sense. We could all say, “Wow, that’s crazy,” and continue our tour and forget this insanity ever took place. On future press trips, Henry and I would recall this crazy week where a bunch of ghosts showed up and have a good laugh.

  But that’s not happening and I’m suddenly frightened. I’ve lost everything and given up a steady income to start my new career and here stands the man who could take it all away. There are other PR agencies that host press trips, sure, but Henry’s established and highly reputable and a bad word from Henry to his tourism colleagues and my travel writing days are over.

  I shrug hopelessly. “Wrong place at the right time or vice versa, depending on how you look at it. The police found bones from an old case but I can’t explain how or why I happened to discover it. Honestly, it was pure accident.”

  Henry digests this but his countenance doesn’t change. If only he would smile and ease my worries, convince me he doesn’t think I’m in league with Merrill and her tree huggers looking to derail the mayor and lose Henry a client in the process. Instead, he hands me that morning’s newspaper and there I am, plastered across the front page with a headline that reads, “Decades-old crime scene unearthed by tourist.” Of course, beneath that is a story about a new electric plant protest with Merrill and her gang carrying signs that read, “Keep Eureka weird and clean.”

  “Wow,” is all I can manage.

  Thankfully, Henry changes the subject. “There’s a bad storm coming in. They think they’re going to close the airport in Bentonville tomorrow night so we need to be prepared for plan B. You and your husband have a spa treatment this afternoon but we’re going to switch that out so we’ll have indoor things for you to do tomorrow. This afternoon we’ll do the outdoor attractions. Dinner’s still on at DeVito’s tonight. As for flight changes, I’ll keep you posted.”

  He hands me another piece of paper and I look down to find an updated itinerary.

  “And Vi,” he says softly, “if you need to go to the police station for anything, just let me know.”

  I nod, grateful for his help but my heart never stops beating frantically. “Thanks.”

  He turns to leave but I call out. “You don’t have to give us both a spa treatment. TB knows the rules.”

  “Don’t be silly,” Henry says, but again, he’s not smiling.

  I follow him in silence back to my table where my hamburger labeled the best in Eureka Springs awaits. I’m worried about Henry’s attitude, the Crescent Hotel forced to feel guilty and include TB in practically everything
and whether the police think I’ve gone bat-shit crazy.

  “Everything okay?” Winnie asks.

  “I don’t know,” I answer softly.

  “You have to admit, it’s a crazy ass story.”

  I look up at my friend who I was hoping would make me feel better but she shrugs as if she’s as clueless as I am. “Now if you had a photo like the ones we saw last night. Something with orbs in them or a lady in the mirror....”

  The hamburger is halfway to my lips when the light bulb goes off. Of course! “Winnie, you’re a genius.”

  She smiles proudly. “I know. But why this time?”

  I pull my camera out of its bag and start flipping through the photos I took yesterday. There’s a long stream of spring photos, starting with the Basin Spring and its lovely park and all the other springs we visited throughout the morning. Finally, I spot the photo I took of the box cave in the side of the mountain, the one located by Eureka Lake. It’s a little fuzzy and I stare hard trying to make out if I snagged a ghost but nothing’s there, really. The ghost of the three girls were by the lake, for some reason, so maybe…. Suddenly, I’m looking at the photos I took of the lake. There are three I managed to capture before screaming bloody murder.

  And each one contains a mist hovering over the water.

  I look up at Winnie and smile. “Hot damn.”

  A relief powerful and uplifting floods my soul. I’m vindicated. I turn my camera toward Winnie and show her the evidence I caught on film — or digital — and she squeals with delight. Joe slides his chair over and demands to know our secrets. We pass the camera over and he starts playing with the zoom, magnifying one of the photos. When he gets it just right, he hands it back to me with a shocked look.

  “Wow,” is all I can think of to say. Again.

  At this point, Carmine is now over my shoulder, gazing down at the faces of three young coed, each about twenty years old.

  He and I shiver at the same time, but I feel a “Way to go” tap on my shoulder. “SCANC,” he says, and returns to his table.

  I look again. The photos show only faces above a mist and I see them for who they really were, young women with bright futures, not the bloody mess I witnessed at the lake.