Restless Spirits Boxset: A Collection of Riveting Haunted House Mysteries

by Skylar Finn

  “Where’s everything else?” I asked her.

  “Don’t worry about it.”

  “Jazmin—”

  “I’ll tell you later. Dump the pictures. Daniel’s up to something.”

  I booted up the laptop, inserted the memory card, and copied the photos to my library. As soon as they finished up, I popped the card out of the laptop. Not a minute later, Daniel stopped by.

  “Is that it?” he said, holding his hand out for the memory card. “I’ll take it. You didn’t show anyone, did you?”

  I gave it to him. “No, I get that a murder investigation is confidential.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Jazmin?”

  Jazmin looked up from my laptop screen, which was tilted away from Daniel’s line of sight, wearing her infamous doe eyes. “What are you talking about?”

  Satisfied, Daniel pocketed the card then pulled a chair out from under a table to stand on. “All right, listen up, everybody!”

  The people in the lounge, spread out across the tables and booths in small duos or trios, stopped talking to turn toward Daniel. Other than Oliver, Nick, Riley, and Jazmin, there were an additional five employees of the hotel with us: Matisse the assistant chef; Karli the bartender and server for the Eagle’s View; Ari the barista from the café near the slopes; Liam the ski lift operator; and Imani, one of the ski instructors. Matisse and Karli sat at one table, their heads bent in toward each other. Aria and Imani took the table next to them, holding hands but not speaking. Liam sat in the far corner of the lounge opposite mine and Jazmin’s. He looked green and queasy as Daniel clapped for everybody’s attention.

  “As you might have guessed, this isn’t going to go like a routine investigation,” Daniel announced. “Until the roads are cleared, you're going to have to deal with me. I don’t want anyone leaving this lounge. If you have to use the restroom, use the one next to the bar. If I notice that someone’s left, I’ll automatically assume you have something to hide. Is that understood?”

  A mutter of consent floated through the lounge.

  “Good,” Daniel said. “Let’s catch everyone up. For those of you might be behind, the body of Tyler Watson was found early this morning in his room. Someone here is responsible for his death, and I intend to find out who. It would be a lot easier on everyone if the culprit stepped forward, but I doubt that’s going to happen.”

  He paused to allow the killer time to consider this. Everyone did a subtle sweep of the room, judging each other’s expressions, but no one outed themselves.

  “I assumed as much,” Daniel said. “We’re going to have to do this the hard way. Interrogations. Ready yourselves, people. You’re in for a real life game of Clue. Liam Lavi?”

  Liam’s head bobbed as he looked up. His face was sallow and drawn, like he hadn’t slept all night. Daniel beckoned Liam forward.

  “You’re up,” Daniel said. “Let’s go.”

  Liam got unsteadily to his feet and followed Daniel to a secluded spot at the bar. As they settled on the high stools, it looked as though they were two friends having a drink together. Ari spied on Liam over Imani’s broad shoulders. From the look of their matching golden manes of hair, Ari and Liam were sister and brother. If Ari was so worried about her brother, why didn’t she check on him earlier when he was sitting all by himself? Imani, her usual tan offset by the paleness of stress, nudged Ari with one of her long legs. Ari settled against the booth, giving up her attempt to read Daniel and Liam’s lips.

  Jazmin suppressed a gag, drawing my attention away from Daniel. She studied the laptop, scrolling through the photos of the crime scene. I slid into the booth beside her as she clicked out of a gruesome picture.

  “You saw this stuff in person?” she asked, her nose wrinkled.

  “Let’s just say that Tyler and I are better friends now than we ever would’ve been if he stayed alive,” I said. “Did you see anything weird or unusual in the photos?”

  “Well, I’m not a cop or a crime scene investigator,” Jazmin said. “But I got the gist of things. Tyler was stabbed twelve times with a knife. There are footprints in the blood, but they likely belong to Tyler because you can see all the toes. Did you see these weird marks in the carpet?”

  “What weird marks?”

  I scooted closer as she zoomed in on a picture of the floor. Small divots, unnoticeable to a less keen eye, punctured the carpet at random intervals. It wasn’t damaged—a quick vacuum would reset the fibers of the carpet—but it was definitely a trail of some kind.

  “I didn’t see that while I was in there taking the pictures,” I said, studying one of the pockmarks as closely as possible. “What is that?”

  “No idea,” said Jazmin. “Maybe Tyler drags his feet?”

  She clicked through a couple wide shots of the room.

  “Wait, go back,” I said.

  “To this one?”

  It was the same picture I’d noticed on the camera before while waiting for Daniel to finish packing up Tyler’s body.

  “I could’ve sworn I saw something in the upper right hand corner of this shot,” I said, zooming into the spot in question. “I thought it was a light flare, but the shape wasn’t right.”

  Jazmin squinted at the screen. “Are you sure you’re all right? Because there’s nothing there.”

  “Jazmin, it was right there. Maybe something happened when we downloaded everything to the computer.”

  “The picture wouldn’t change because of a download.”

  “Unless it was caused by something supernatural,” I said.

  “Oh.”

  In the aftermath of Tyler’s death, I was the only one who remembered that King and Queens was dealing with more than one dead person at a time.

  Jazmin lowered her voice and leaned in. “You think someone else was in Tyler’s room with you?”

  “I didn’t feel anything,” I said. “If there’s a ghost around, I get this terrible prickling on the back of my neck. That’s the start of it anyway. If the ghost turns up, it’s like my nerves are on fire. Odette said it’s because I never learned to balance my psychic energies.”

  Jazmin puffed her cheeks. “What else did Odette say?”

  “I told you,” I said. “She wants me to figure out the truth about the fire. Oh, and she might’ve mentioned that we’re all going to die.”

  “All of us who?”

  “Everybody in the hotel, I imagine.”

  “You left that part out during your previous summary.”

  I buried my face in Jazmin’s cashmere sweater, taking deep calming breaths of her sweet floral perfume. “Do you think she’s telling the truth?”

  “I wasn’t there.” She rested her chin on top of my head. “But she has a motive to lie. The threat on our lives kickstarted you to jump headfirst into this investigation, didn’t it?”

  “That and the feeling of being paralyzed by a spirit from the world beyond this one.”

  “She didn’t happen to give you any advice on that front, did she?”

  “No,” I said bitterly. “Other than to breath and focus. I’m an actress, not a yogi. I don’t understand this meditation crap.”

  “You’re a psychic. Maybe you should get on that meditation crap.”

  “Don’t say that. I’m hoping it’s a glitch.”

  “I’ll help you sort it out if I can,” Jazmin promised.

  “It’s not just me,” I said. “It’s Riley too. If I have to work through all of this, so does she.”

  Jazmin opened a new document and typed out a heading on the laptop, reading it aloud as she did so. “Psychic medium lessons.”

  I bumped her shoulder and hit the backspace button until the words were gone. “Don’t joke. What are we supposed to do? It’s not like I can investigate this murder while we’re stuck in the Eagle’s View. I don’t know how to investigate a murder. I’m not Daniel.”

  “Think of it as a puzzle,” Jazmin suggested. “We have all the pieces we need. It’s just a matter of putting them t
ogether.”

  “How do we know if the killer is living or dead?”

  “Do you think ghosts can affect the living?”

  “I’m proof of that. Paralysis, remember?”

  Jazmin adjusted so that I rested more comfortably against her side. “You said that was an effect of your psychic connection with Odette. We know ghosts can manipulate inanimate objects. The broken vase in your room is evidence of that. We need to figure out if they can touch living things like humans and animals.”

  “Do you think Riley would know?”

  “It doesn’t hurt to ask,” she said. “We should keep her close for however long this goes on. She hasn’t told anyone else about her ghost stories, right?”

  “Just her dad,” I replied. “Everyone else thinks she’s weird.”

  Jazmin looked at Riley, who was in the middle of a decent nap. “She’s a sweet kid, but I get where they’re coming from.”

  I stayed quiet, watching Riley as she dozed. Jazmin turned her gaze back to me.

  “Are you sure you’re okay?” she asked for the dozenth time. “I feel like you’re not telling me everything.”

  I closed the photo application on the laptop. I’d had enough of those pictures. “This feels too familiar. Like I’m thirteen again. I keep thinking about things I haven’t worried about in almost twenty years.”

  “Oh, honey,” Jazmin said. “I hate to break it to you, but actively avoiding those things is different from not thinking about them. I know what happened to you when you were younger bothers you every day.”

  “I didn’t expect to have to deal with it like this,” I said. “All those years you insisted I see a therapist. I’m finally wishing I’d followed through on that suggestion.”

  “This is what happens when you don’t listen to me. Shh.”

  Nick Porter approached our table and set two cappuccinos in front of us, a perfect heart drawn in the foam of each one. He hobbled a little as he did so, his cane tucked under his arm so he could carry both coffees.

  “I thought you girls could use a little pick me up,” he said. “Do you take sugar?”

  “I do,” I said.

  He produced a handful of sugar packets from the pocket of his suit jacket. “For the lady.”

  As I stirred the crystals into my coffee, ruining the foam heart, Jazmin inhaled the sharp scent of the dark roast before taking a sip.

  “Tell me, Nick,” she said. “How does the owner of a destination ski resort know how to make the perfect cappuccino? I can’t imagine you have much time to practice between all your business meetings and charity luncheons.”

  Nick chuckled. “I’ve been in the hotel business my entire life. Sometimes, the barista doesn’t show up and you have to fill in. Do you ladies mind if I join you? My leg isn’t cooperating with me this morning.”

  Jazmin gestured to the empty booth across from ours, and he lowered himself into it with a muted groan.

  “Thank you,” he said, massaging his thigh through his satin pants. “It’s this terrible weather. Every time a storm comes through, this old injury flares up. I swear it’s more accurate than ninety-five percent of the meteorologists on the news.”

  I itched to ask Nick about his injury, but I’d known the man for less than twenty-four hours, and he was less prone to forgive my rabid curiosity than Jazmin was. Still, it was worth a vague shot.

  “Does it keep you from getting around?” I asked, hoping my feigned worry was sufficient in concealing my nosiness.

  “It would if I was less determined,” Nick said. “But I’ve dealt with it for almost my entire life. If I don’t think about it, the pain goes away. Days like this are hard though. It’s the stress. Mental pain manifests physically as well. Such an awful situation we’re all in, don’t you think?”

  “More than awful,” Jazmin said.

  “Of course,” Nick replied. “I didn’t mean to minimize its severity, but it’s hard to believe something like this could happen. You hear about it on the news, but you never expect to be a part of it. I—” A tinkling tune rang out, and Nick took his smart phone from the inside pocket of his jacket. “Excuse me for a moment, ladies. This is a call from White Oak. Hello?”

  He didn’t take the call away from the table, unconcerned with being overheard. Jazmin and I enjoyed our coffee, pretending not to listen in as Nick spoke with his employee.

  “I’m glad to hear that,” he said, nodding emphatically. “What’s the situation with the roads over there? Has anyone managed to make it through? I see. Thank you for the update, Alfonso. Please continue to keep me posted.”

  “I thought the storm knocked out cell service,” I said as he hung up.

  He pocketed his phone. “White Oak has its own cell tower. I had it constructed for situations such as these. Like I said, I’ve been in the resort business for a while.”

  “Is everything okay at your hotel?” Jazmin asked.

  “It’s quite fine,” Nick said. “That’s actually what Alfonso—the manager—was calling to tell me. The roads are blocked, but everyone is comfortable. We’re prepared for a storm like this one. The last thing I want is for any of my guests to be uncomfortable.” He sighed wistfully as he gazed around the lounge at the forlorn faces of the other employees. “What a shame we can’t make our way to White Oak. If I knew King and Queens was so ill-prepared for something like this, I wouldn't have risked coming here. In fact, I would have invited all of you to stay at White Oak sooner. Perhaps then this terrible tragedy wouldn’t have occurred.”

  “You shut your mouth!”

  The hoarse order came so suddenly that everyone in the lodge perked up from their morose, slumped positions. Oliver emerged from his catatonic state, untucking himself to glare at Nick Porter with no small amount of derision. Riley woke out of her nap, her feet sliding off the table. Oliver walked over to us, shaking with every step, until he stood over Nick Porter’s bad leg, which extended from the booth. The sweat stains around Oliver’s collar and beneath his armpits were beginning to yellow, and he’d done nothing to clean the dried blood from his shirt. He smelled like stale body odor. I held my breath as he leaned in toward Nick.

  “Don’t talk about my hotel,” he whispered.

  Nick, to his credit, did not shove Oliver away from him as I would have. “My good man, I meant no offense to your fine establishment. I was simply implying that White Oak is newer and has the means to accommodate a good number of individuals during a time like this.”

  When Oliver seized Nick by the lapels, Riley vaulted from her seat. “Dad, don’t!”

  Oliver kept Nick in hand. “Listen to me, you swine. I don’t care how suave or important you think you are. My family has been on this mountain for longer than you’ve been alive, and I intend to keep it that way.”

  Nick’s cane clattered to the floor, but he coolly responded, “I don’t believe your family is who you think they are.”

  Oliver’s fingers clenched, wrinkling the perfect fabric of Nick’s jacket. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

  “The Watson name was once well-respected,” Nick said. “I admired the way King and Queens was run before you took over. Hell, I mimicked some of the business strategies that used to be employed here, but no more. You’ve ruined this place, Oliver. Face it, you were never meant to lead a team in this extraordinary game. It’s not for everyone, I’m afraid.”

  “You scumbag!”

  Nick made no attempt to defend himself against Oliver’s incoming punch. It landed square on his cheek, but Oliver overswung. The extra momentum landed him on Nick’s lap, rattling our table as they tussled. Jazmin picked up our cappuccinos to stop them from spilling over while Riley yanked at her dad’s shirt, trying to get him off the other hotel owner. The two men were impossible to separate. I couldn’t tell whose limbs were whose.

  “Enough!” Daniel roared. He’d hauled ass from across the bar, where Liam was slumped over a glass of water. Daniel booted Riley out of the way and hauled Oliver o
ff of Nick, trapping Oliver’s hands behind his back. “Watson, I understand you’re upset, but you cannot assault the other people in this lounge no matter how emotional you are.” He heaved Oliver toward his original table and forced him to sit down. “Now you will stay at this table until I ask you to do otherwise. Is that clear?”

  While Oliver grumbled, Jazmin and I helped Nick sit up. His cheek bone was bright red from the impact of Oliver’s knuckles, and Oliver’s ring had opened a small cut above his eyebrow too.

  “Are you okay?” I asked. “Do you need ice for your face?”

  He blotted the cut with a napkin. I turned away. I’d seen so much blood that morning, a paper cut would’ve set me off.

  “I’m all right,” Nick said. Panting, he straightened his jacket and brushed invisible dust from the sleeves. “I imagine I’ll have to have this suit thoroughly dry-cleaned if we ever get out of here. Goodness. What a temper. Oh, poor girl! Are you okay?”

  In all the chaos, no one noticed Riley had fallen to the ground when Daniel threw her aside to break up her father’s messy fight. Nick helped her to her feet, wobbling as he did so. Riley brushed off the seat of her pants and dusted her palms.

  “Can you be my dad?” she asked Nick dryly.

  Instead of laughing, he hid a frown. Tenderly, he swept bread crumbs from the back of Riley’s oversized sweatshirt. “I am honored you asked. I like to think of myself as a surrogate parent to many of my young guests and employees. Should you ever require my assistance, all you have to do is ask, sweetheart.”

  Riley, who wasn’t expecting a compassionate response, surprised everyone with a smile. It was small and contained, but it was there nonetheless. “Thanks, Mr. Porter.”

  “That’s Nick to you,” he said.

  “Riley, can I borrow you for a minute?” I asked her. “I have a couple things I need to share with you in private.”

  We headed for the steps to the lobby, but Daniel’s keen eye saw us from his position at the bar. He was through interviewing Liam and had moved on to Ari. “Hey,” he called. “No one leaves the Eagle’s View. Not even you, Lucia.”