by Ann Charles
“Voices,” Cornelius finished.
A rash of chills covered me from head to toe. “Turn it up a little more.”
“You’re going to get a kick out of this part coming up.”
“Why?”
He turned the volume up. “Just listen.”
I did, my palms sweaty.
Hisssss … tea party … hisssssss … fire … hisssssss … my Wolfgang … hisss.
The voice sounded high-pitched and young, like Addy’s.
Cornelius hit the Stop button.
I clenched my hands together. “Did I just hear the word ‘Wolfgang’?”
Doc nodded, his dark gaze solemn, his brow pinched.
“That is correct,” Cornelius answered, as if I’d given the right question to an answer on Jeopardy. “It’s the same name you spoke the first time you visited my suite.”
“No, I didn’t,” I lied, not wanting it to be true.
“You denied it then, too, Violet, but I was recording that night, remember? You were in a trance-like state at the time.”
Fine. Maybe I had. “So the name Wolfgang on your EV-thingamajobbie is what you wanted us to hear tonight?”
“There’s more.” Cornelius hit Play again. “Keep listening.”
I didn’t want to, but I leaned in again anyway.
Hisssss … onlyyouIlove … onlyyouIlove … onlyyouIlove … onlyyouIlove … onlyyouIlove … hissss.
My breath log-jammed in my throat. My finger was trembling when I reached out and pressed the Stop button.
“Those were the words he said to me that night,” I whispered in the sudden quiet.
“While you were in the room with the others?” Doc asked.
“Yes.” The others. As in the three decomposing little girls the bastard had murdered.
“Who are we talking about?” Cornelius’s gaze ping-ponged between Doc and me.
I covered my mouth with both hands feeling like I needed to bar the door, or something—a scream or my supper or both—would come rushing up my esophagus and out through my lips.
“You okay, Violet?” Doc asked. I shook my head but motioned for them to continue. He turned to our host. “Is there anything else from this particular ghost?”
“One more thing.” With his finger paused over the Play button, Cornelius frowned at me. “It’s why I wanted you to listen to it in person.”
He hit Play.
I stared at the speaker, afraid to breathe.
Hissssssss … my beautiful … hisssssssssss … Violet … hissss.
I stood up so fast my chair fell over backward. “Holy shit!”
Doc and Cornelius both stared at me while the static kept playing.
I was huffing as if I’d just returned from a sprint up Main Street and back. “Wilda’s still here.”
Chapter Ten
Meanwhile, back in the Purple Door Saloon …
One shot of tequila wasn’t going to cut it tonight.
Not after hearing Wilda say my name.
“Three shots of tequila for starters,” I ordered from the blonde-hating bartender at the Purple Door Saloon.
He must have seen on my face that I was in no mood for any snarls or attitude from him tonight, because he agreed to have them delivered to me in the corner booth without a single hint of gruff.
I crossed the room without really seeing the faces of the other patrons. Settling into the booth, I waited for Doc, whom I’d left behind in Cornelius’s suite.
There was no way I could sit there in that room, not with the thought of the ghost Wilda standing there next to me, watching me, whispering things in my ear that I couldn’t hear. That would fuel the kind of nightmares that would wake me up screaming at the top of my lungs. No thanks. So I’d told Doc he could find me at The Purple Door when he and Cornelius were done listening to the other ghosts and raced out of the hotel like it was crashing down around me.
A purple-haired waitress brought my shots over. I thanked her, giving her a nice tip, wondering if she’d colored her hair to match the bar’s name in order to make her boss happy.
Criminy, the things we did for money. I slammed back a shot, coughing into my hand as it burned its way down.
That was the whole reason I’d agreed to sell the Hessler house. I had been desperate for a sale, worried I’d lose my job, afraid I’d no longer be able to pay my bills and end up moving back in with my parents.
Well, that and the fact that Wolfgang had been so charming. I picked up the second shot glass, staring through the tequila at the blur of lights and shapes beyond. God, what a sucker I’d been.
All of those fucking clowns. I shuddered, remembering Mrs. Hessler’s obsession with painted faces, overly happy eyes, and ghastly smiles.
The second shot of tequila went down easier than the first, my eyes watering only a little. I licked my lips and set the empty shot glass next to the other one.
My thoughts flitted through mouth-drying memories from that night in Wolfgang’s house. The wallpaper covered with violets. The taste of tannins from the drugged wine. The stench of decaying flesh. The creepy clown candle in the center of the cake. The sinus-burning odor of lighter fluid. The crackling of the fire. The burning heat.
His words echoed in my head …
“She won’t leave me alone. She screams at me nonstop, blaming me, threatening to destroy all of the good in my life.”
“Is she screaming now?”
His gaze focused over my head. “No.”
I peeked over my shoulder and saw nothing but the bedroom door. “What is she doing?”
“Just watching. Making sure I follow through.”
I picked up the third shot and swallowed it down in one big gulp. Ahhh, no trouble at all with that one. The shot glass fell in line with the other two. The fear that had me all lathered up at the sound of Wilda’s voice quieted, no longer kicking at the stall door to break free and gallop screaming into the night. I signaled the waitress to bring me two more shots. Those should make me forget the Hessler chapter in my life for a while.
Wolfgang.
His face swam before me with his quick smile and rakish blond hair. Those deep blue eyes had warmed my blood at first, and then had scared the holy hell out of me that night when he told me what his dead sister Wilda wanted.
“She refuses to leave me alone unless I kill the one I love … She’s the eye-for-an-eye type.”
He’d believed that if I died, Wilda would go, too. Only then would he be free of the little ghost girl who haunted him day and night.
But he’d died, not me.
Was that why Wilda was still hanging around? Waiting for me to keel over? Or was it because I’d burned her house down and had a hand in killing her brother? Was this a revenge haunt? Was she determined to finish what her brother had started?
Memories blurred my vision, or maybe it was the shots of tequila catching up with me. At some point two more tequila-filled shot glasses appeared in front of me. My hand was reaching for the first one when someone slid into the booth opposite me and stole them both away.
I frowned, blinking up into the face of Detective Cooper. “Give those back.”
He shook his head. “This is a bad idea, Parker.”
“This,” I pointed at the shot glasses in his hand and then back at me, “is out of your jurisdiction, Detective.”
“Are you driving home?”
I shook my head.
“Are you here with Ms. Beals or Nyce?”
“Doc drove.”
“Where is he?”
“Listening to ghosts.”
Cooper’s eyes narrowed. “How drunk are you?”
“Not nearly enough yet. Give me back my shots.”
“Seriously, where’s Nyce? It’s not like him to leave you to get soused on your own.”
“I told you he’s listening to ghosts.” I crossed my arms, resting my elbows on the table. “Maybe you should get your stupid notebook and pen out and write that down so you don’t have to as
k again.”
His face crinkled, apparently unhappy about me insulting his accessories. “Listening to ghosts where?”
“At The Old Prospector Hotel with my buddy Cornelius.” I lunged forward to grab my shot glasses from him, but he held them out of reach. “Why do you always have to be such a fucking asshole, Cooper?”
When he hit me with a full-on gunslinger glare, I realized what I’d said. “Oops.” I sat back in my seat. “That was the tequila talking, not me.”
“I doubt that. Why are you here slamming back shots while your boyfriend is in a haunted hotel supposedly talking to ghosts?”
“I said he’s listening, not talking.”
“Jesus, Parker. Just answer the goddamned question.”
I gave him a glare of my own. “You won’t believe my answer.”
“Try me.”
“Fine. I’m drinking because I heard something tonight that scared the hell out of me.”
“What? A ghost?” I could hear his sarcasm crystal clear.
“You know what, Cooper? Fuck you.” I pointed both index fingers at him. “And fuck your bullying day-in and day-out. I’m not in the mood to deal with your bullshit tonight, so go ruin someone else’s life.”
I slid out of the booth, stumbling to my feet. They served shots at the bar, too, which was where I was going to plant my butt. I smoothed my shirt down over my waist and took a step in the bar’s direction. And if that blonde-hating bartender so much as looked at me funny, I was going to grab a pool cue from the back room and jam it up his …
Cooper grabbed my arm. “Get back here, Parker.”
He propelled me back into the booth. My landing was lacking in grace, arms and legs flailing. The toe of my shoe flew up as I hit the seat cushion and connected with the bossy detective’s shin.
He grunted and grimaced. “Damn it, Parker!”
I righted myself and tucked my legs under the table. “That’s what you get for manhandling me, bully.”
“What’s going on here?” Doc’s voice cut through the tequila haze now starting to cloud my brain.
“Parker’s trying to drown in tequila,” Cooper told on me. He stepped back to make room so Doc could slide into the booth seat next to me.
Doc cupped my chin, searching my eyes. “You okay, Tiger?”
I shook my head. I wasn’t going to be okay with Wilda’s freaky message for a long time. “But I’d be more okay if Cooper would let me drink those other two shots.”
Doc looked at the table. “You’ve already had three.”
“I know. I’d like two more to grow on, please.” I pinched the back of my hand. “I’m not numb enough yet.”
“Oh, sweetheart. Come here.” He wrapped his arm around my shoulders, pulling me close.
Cooper dropped into the seat across from me again, still rubbing his shin. “What’s wrong with her?” he asked Doc.
“I tried to tell you, but you made fun of me.” I turned to Doc. “She’s coming to get me, isn’t she?”
Doc shook his head. “We don’t know that for sure.”
“Who’s coming to get her?”
“She wants revenge,” I told Doc. “I killed her brother.” I thought of Aunt Zoe and her account of our family history. “She’s right. I’m just like all of the others.”
Cooper leaned over the table. “Did you say kill?”
Doc grabbed one of the shot glasses Cooper had taken away and placed it in front of me. “One more, but that’s it.” When I lifted it to my lips, he ordered, “Sip it.”
While I sipped, he looked across at Cooper. “Violet is not a killer.”
“Yes, I am.” My Aunt Zoe had told me so, and she never lied about stuff like protection charms and executioners.
“She’s drunk,” Doc explained, squeezing my thigh warningly under the table. “She had a nasty scare tonight and needs to go home after this drink and sleep it off.”
I guffawed. “I doubt I’ll do much sleeping tonight unless I get to drink this shot and that one.”
“What happened?” Cooper asked, watching me sip, his face all angles and creases.
“You know, Detective,” I pulled my face out of my tequila and informed him, “you should smile more. It makes you less hateable.”
Doc lifted the hand I was using to hold the shot glass toward my mouth. “Sip, Violet.”
I obliged.
“It’s tough to explain,” Doc told Cooper.
“Try me.”
“Okay.” Doc blew out a breath before digging in. “You remember Wolfgang Hessler?”
“Of course.”
“He had an older sister who died when he was young.”
“Yes. Wilda Hessler. She was a year or two ahead of me in elementary school.”
“Right.” Doc looked down at me, his eyebrows raised as if he were asking for my permission to continue.
I shrugged and took another sip of tequila. The sharp edges of fear from tonight were now worn off, leaving me with a what-the-hell attitude.
“The night the Hessler house burned down,” Doc continued, “Wolfgang told Violet that his sister’s ghost was in the house with them.”
“In the room,” I corrected. “Standing there watching him dump lighter fluid over those poor little girls.”
Cooper stared at me, no smartass comments, no insults, no glares. Just his steely gray eyes watching me.
Was he assessing my sanity? My state of drunkenness?
“Violet told me a couple of days later,” Doc continued, “that she suspected Wolfgang was hearing voices in his head, not the actual ghost of his sister.”
“I thought Wolfgang was only deranged.”
“She figured that he suffered from something like a Dissociative Identity Disorder.”
Cooper nodded. “She’d mentioned something about that when I took her official statement.”
“She was wrong,” Doc said.
“She was?”
I patted Doc’s arm. “And he was right.”
“About what?” Cooper asked.
“I had told her that Wilda was in that room with Violet and the little girls,” Doc said.
“As a ghost?” His skepticism was loud and clear.
“Yes, as a fucking ghost, Detective,” I snapped. He was lucky right then that I couldn’t breathe fire.
“Your girlfriend is a mean drunk,” Cooper told Doc.
“Not usually. She’s had a rough week.”
“Ha!” I laughed without humor and finished the shot.
“So, when Parker said you were right, she meant—”
“Doc knew Wilda was a ghost,” I explained, “and that she was haunting the Hessler house.”
“Because of your medium abilities?”
“Bingo.” I tried to touch my finger to my nose and ended up poking my cheek hard enough to make me wince.
“So what happened tonight that has Parker all sloppy drunk?”
I looked at Doc. “Can you somehow tell Wilda that Cooper made me do it?”
Doc winked at me. “Violet and I were over at The Old Prospector Hotel listening to some chatter that Mr. Curion picked up on his EVP.”
“He has an EVP?” Cooper asked, apparently already aware of what the acronym stood for.
“It’s one of his many expensive ghost hunting toys.”
“Why does that not surprise me?” Cooper downed my last shot of tequila, damn him. “So, what did you two hear on the ghost airwaves?”
“Wilda,” I answered.
“And what did Hessler’s sister have to say?”
“She repeated things her brother said to me.”
“And you don’t think this is some kind of trick of Curion’s?”
I shook my head.
“How can you be sure?”
“Because there were three dead girls, Wolfgang, and me in the room that night.” I took a breath. “And Wilda’s ghost, apparently. I’ve never told anyone the exact words Wolfgang said to me that night.”
“Why did you
withhold them?” Cooper asked.
“Because I felt sorry for Wolfgang.”
“He was a mass murderer.”
“He was a lonely boy who was hated by his mother for most of his life. On top of that, his sister murdered his father.”
“So on this EVP recording you heard the same words Hessler said to you while you were alone in that room on the night of the fire?”
“Yes, but on the recording, they were spoken by a young girl.”
“Wilda Hessler?”
I nodded. “She was there with us in the bedroom that night, just like Wolfgang said.” I patted Doc’s chest. “Doc was right about her.”
“How did you know she was there?” he asked Doc.
“I didn’t know if she was in the room with Violet until tonight,” he clarified, “but I knew Wilda was staying in the house after I experienced her death.”
“See, now that’s where I get hung up.” Cooper flagged down the waitress, ordering two more shots.
“I’m driving tonight,” Doc told him after the waitress left. “Not drinking.”
“Those are for me.” He shook his head. “I need something to help me swallow this ghost business.”
“Take it slow. It’s easy to choke on if you gulp.”
“Okay,” Cooper said, looking from me to Doc. “Nyce, you said you experienced Wilda’s death.”
“Yes.”
“First hand?”
“Through her eyes.”
“I don’t get it.”
Doc waited until the waitress had delivered the two shots and left before explaining how it all worked to Cooper. By the time he finished, Cooper had emptied both shot glasses.
“And tonight Parker heard from Wilda via Curion’s ghost talk radio.” At Doc’s nod, Cooper looked at me. “You haven’t heard from her before now?”
“Not directly.”
“Explain.”
“Cornelius told me a few weeks ago that a girl ghost who lived in his walls wanted to have a tea party with me. At the time, I thought he was a little off his rocker.” Officially that was still my verdict but not when it came to the paranormal world.
“And now you believe him?”
“Yes.”
“And that scared you.”
“No. Knowing Cornelius is legit doesn’t really scare me, it just makes me think the world is nuttier than I realized. What scared me is learning that Wilda wants to talk to me.”