The Haunting of Hotel LaBelle

by Sharon Buchbinder

  He grinned. “Always the nitpicker, Emma, even in school. Attempted homicide. Is that better?”

  “How is he doing? The dispatcher said he was in the ICU at St. Vic’s.”

  “Sedated and on a ventilator, Emma.” Otterlegs stretched yellow tape in an X across the door. “It’s gonna be a while before we can question him.” He grabbed Tallulah by the elbow and pulled her away from the door toward the steps. “You have to leave now, even if you were staying here. Maybe Emma can put you up for a while, at least until we get this wrapped up.”

  “That could take months,” Tallulah protested, stepping back and yanking her arm away. “I need to get back in there and get to work. Will really needs my help now.”

  Tommy gave her a strange look. “You sweet on him?”

  Her stomach roiled. “I make it a policy to never have romantic relationships with a client.”

  “Just the ghosts who wander the hotel,” Lucius whispered at her other ear sending a thrill down her neck, and stirring up naughty responses from her nether regions. He really knew how to torture her.

  “Miss Emma, can you take Miss—what is your name?”

  “Tallulah Thompson.”

  “Take Miss Thompson to your place?”

  “Sure, Tommy.” Emma nodded. “She can come to the fair and watch the Indian relay races.”

  Tallulah stumbled down the steps, the medicine stick humming an angry tune for her ears alone. Talk about bad timing.

  “Watch your step, Miss.”

  She walked toward Emma and looked back.

  Otterlegs stretched multiple pieces of yellow tape between the handrails at the bottom of the stairs.

  Lucius stood on the top step, shoulders slumped, palms out. He cried out, “Tallulah, I’m sorry I hurt your feelings. I’m sorry I called you a brazen hussy. I was wrong. More than wrong. I was a no-good, lousy saphead.”

  Tallulah’s pulse skipped a beat, and she stood transfixed as the cop tried to urge her away from the hotel. She shook his hand off her arm. “Let me go.”

  “I learned my lesson. I would do anything to be with you. Anything.”

  Tears sprang to her eyes. Throwing caution aside, she shouted back, “I have no idea where this is going, Lucius Stewart, but I’m willing to take a chance on us.” Reaching over her shoulder, she grabbed the medicine stick out of the quiver and ran for the steps.

  Otterlegs said, “What the—” Footsteps pounded behind her. “I order you to stop!”

  There was a loud thud and Emma said solicitously, “You okay, Tommy? You took a bad tumble.”

  “You tripped me!”

  Tallulah reached the top step. She extended the vibrating medicine stick, touched Lucius on the nose, and spoke the Crow words Beautiful gave to her, then repeated them in English, “I forgive you. I undo this curse. I set you free.”

  Lucius shimmered and wavered. For a split second, Tallulah’s heart rose into her throat, nearly choking her. What if she’d misspoken and he disappeared forever? Then the air around him rippled from his head to his toes, and he became solid before her eyes. He reached over the yellow tape and pulled her into a bone-crushing embrace. “You came back for me.”

  “You have no idea—”

  “Put your hands up.”

  Lucius glanced over her shoulder. “Otterlegs has friends coming down the driveway.”

  Slowly, Tallulah turned, her hands up in the air, the breath feather on the medicine stick waving slowly in the breeze. The rod no longer hummed. It had served its purpose.

  “Step away from the hotel. Both of you.”

  “They can see me?” Lucius breathed behind her.

  “The entire world can see you.” She giggled in a fit of nerves. “Welcome to the twenty-first century.”

  Lucius raised both hands in the air, reached for hers, and squeezed. “Whatever happens, we’re together now.”

  Otterlegs brushed at the mud on his uniform. “It’s a simple job, they said. Won’t take more than five minutes, they said. Get out here, seal the crime scene, and go home, they said.” He reached for his handcuffs. “That’s all I wanted to do.”

  “What are you doing, Tommy?” Emma called.

  “My job. What’s your name, mister?”

  “My name is Lucius Stewart.” Acutely aware of his century-old, pin-striped three-piece suit, suspenders, and silver bolero tie, he wished he wore clothes more in keeping with the times.

  Otterlegs gave him a once over. “Yeah, right, and I’m Chief Plenty-Coups.”

  A black-and-white SUV with the Yellowstone County Sheriff’s seal pulled alongside Tommy’s patrol car. Two uniforms jumped out. “What’s the deal, Otterlegs?”

  “I think I’ve solved the attempted murder-arson case. Watch and learn, boys, watch and learn. Tallulah Thompson and Lucius Stewart, or whatever your real name is, you are under arrest.”

  Tallulah’s stomach clenched. This could not be happening.

  “Are you out of your mind, Tommy?” Emma shouted from the sidelines.

  “Be quiet, Emma, or I’ll arrest you for obstruction of justice.” He smiled at Tallulah. “You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you…”

  Franny shrieked like a banshee and appeared at Tallulah’s feet. The medicine stick quivered with fury. Fearful that Beautiful would appear and take matters into her own hands, Tallulah dropped the rod. Franny snatched it up before the cops could move and took off into the darkness.

  “Emma,” Tallulah called, “could you take care of Franny for me?”

  “Don’t worry,” Emma replied. “She’s in good hands.”

  The two cops led Lucius away to the SUV, and a metal band clenched around her heart. This was no way for him to re-enter society.

  Otterlegs urged her into the back seat of the cruiser. “Watch your head.”

  I need to watch more than my head, she thought. The man of her dreams just popped into the twenty-first century without an instruction manual to guide him. Lucius is going to need someone to watch over him—and it looks like it’s going to be me.

  Chapter Ten

  The booking officer opened the door to the holding cell. “Have a seat.”

  “I didn’t get my phone call. I want a lawyer,” Tallulah protested. “I know my rights.”

  The door clanged shut.

  Out of habit, Tallulah kicked into inspector mode. A metal bench four feet long—too short to lie on, too uncomfortable to sit on for any length of time. Three cinderblock walls painted eggshell white. A concrete floor with a drain in the center that, if she could trust her nose, hadn’t been cleaned in a long time. Or perhaps the pervasive stench came from the stainless steel sink and toilet combo? She walked over and examined the toilet paper roll.

  “Lucky me. Someone left four squares.” Glancing at the water-stained ceiling, she spotted the unblinking eye of a video camera monitoring her every move. Just like Franny. Tallulah stared at the toilet and decided she’d wait for her teeth to float before using it anytime soon.

  She paced the perimeter of the confined space and considered her options. All the way in, she’d repeated her alibi, “I was with Emma Horserider all evening. You know her. Why won’t you listen to me? Don’t you want to know the truth?”

  Otterlegs had just stared ahead and called into base muttering a jumble of indecipherable ten-something codes.

  “If you’re going to talk about me, you could at least do it in English,” she’d said.

  Two hours later, she found herself in a urine-drenched cell, holding her blouse over her nose, taking shallow breaths. If she kept this up, she’d pass out soon, which might be preferable to the stench. Something shimmered in the corner and a figure emerged from the mist.

  “Beautiful Blackfeather!” She dropped her collar in surprise. “What are you doing here?”

  A smile wreathed the elder’s face, and she signed, “Good man comes with a pipe. Smoke talk.”

  Shoes squeaked on concrete, and Beau
tiful vanished.

  The clerk appeared at the bars shaking her head. “You must have a lot of juice. This is the fastest I’ve ever seen someone released from holding.” She unlocked the cell. “Since you came in here with nothing but the clothes on your back, at least we don’t have to worry about returning your property. Just sign these papers and you’ll be on your way.”

  What on earth?

  When she stepped out into the lobby, she discovered the reason for her quick release. Encircled by a small army of deputies, Bert Blackfeather held court, regaling the group with a Homeland Security story. “We followed the leads, ladies and gentlemen, that's good police work. The moral of the story is, let the evidence speak for itself. Don’t assume you know what’s going on. You know what assume spells, right? Making an ASS out of U and ME.” The man with the peace pipe had arrived to negotiate.

  A round of laughter.

  “There she is.” He turned to the crowd. “I need some time with my client. Be safe out there.”

  He rolled over to a corner and motioned for Tallulah to have a seat in one of the orange plastic chairs. What was it about the color orange and jails?

  Shaking from fatigue and stress, she shuffled across the room, struggling to understand the legality of his springing her out of jail—well, pre-jail. “I’m your client? How is that possible?”

  “Don’t look so surprised.” He pulled out a business card. “Got my JD before I went to work for Homeland. Member of the Montana bar, along with DC, Maryland, Virginia, and a variety of other states. Comes in handy when my employees get their tail feathers in a bind.”

  “Lucky for me.” She glanced around. “Where’s Lucius? Are they bringing him here too?”

  “Ah, Lucius is another matter.” Bert shook his head. “He had no ID, so despite the fact that Emma vouched for him, Otterlegs decided my ancestor was a person of interest.”

  “Is he in a holding cell too? Can’t you get him out?”

  “Deputy Sheriff Otterlegs is an ambitious little man. Wants to make a name for himself, run for Sheriff. At the moment, our short-legged friend is working on charging documents.” Bert smiled. “The good news is he became very annoyed when I told him I was Lucius’s lawyer. The bad news is Will Wellington is still unconscious in ICU at St. Vic’s. We have no way to disprove Otterlegs’ charges of attempted homicide and arson.”

  “Yes we do!” Anger at the twerpy little deputy bubbled up. Lucius wasn’t even around when it happened. “I saw those hoods who came to beat the snot out of him. Saw them, their vehicle, and their handiwork. I spent a lot of time putting ice and frozen peas on that man’s injuries.”

  Bert rubbed his chin. “Any idea why they went after Will?”

  “He said something about not being able to pay the ‘vig.’ I have no idea what that is.”

  “Oh-ho! A loan shark had him by the balls.” He slapped his thigh. “Vig is a street term for interest. Most people who get a loan from a mobster can’t pay the loan off, unless they win the lottery. Instead, they pay a weekly fee, like interest. If you get behind on the vig, they send very strong reminders.”

  “These two reminders had no necks, lots of tattoos, metal-tipped cowboy boots, and Nevada plates.”

  Bert tapped the screen of his cell phone and smiled. “Do you think you could pick them out of a photo array?”

  “A what?”

  “A line up. Mug shots. It’s all digital now.” He held his index finger up and grinned. “Hal, sorry to call so late. Did I wake you up? Oh, you weren’t sleeping? That’s lucky. Yes, I’m in for the fair, but I’ve got a situation.” He gave a brief rundown to the person on the other end of the line. “That’s great. I appreciate it. Thanks very much. Give my best to the wife.”

  “Who was that?”

  “The Yellowstone County Sheriff. One of my best friends from high school. He will personally meet with us in the morning to hear what you have to say.” Bert chuckled and rubbed his hands. “Otterlegs will learn not to piss on the big dog when you’re the little dog. You must be starving. There’s a great all night café not too far from here. Hope you like Mexican.”

  Tallulah felt guilty going out to eat while Lucius remained locked up with God-only-knew what kind of animals. Her heart ached for him. He had been in limbo for a century, wasn’t that a long enough sentence for any man? They couldn’t get him out soon enough. The world had changed over the last hundred years. Both the crimes and the criminals had gotten worse, more vicious. The poor man must be so overwhelmed and confused. Lucius came from a genteel time. He’d never make it in a jail full of toughs.

  ****

  “What is your legal name, address, birthdate, and emergency contact person, medical and mental history?”

  The series of questions sounded like one long run-on sentence to Lucius’s ears. After jotting down the answers, the male booking clerk took Lucius’s thumb and rolled it inside the blue square.

  “Try to relax. When you tense up, your swirls flatten and your fingerprints won’t come out right.”

  Lucius looked askance at the lanky man with the long brown hair. “I’m in the hoosegow for something I didn’t do and you’re saying I should be worried about my ‘swirls’ and think happy thoughts?”

  “When you put it that way…” the clerk’s lips quirked.

  “This is all a mistake. I didn’t hurt anyone. He’s alive because of me.”

  “If I had a nickel for every guy who told me that, I could retire. Stand here. Hold this sign with your name and ID number. Look straight at the camera.” A flash of light made Lucius see spots. “Now turn your head to the left. No, the other left.” The second flash nearly blinded him.

  “Now what?” Lucius blinked to get rid of the stars.

  “Time for your shower and your new duds.” The clerk handed him a bar of soap. “I’ll put your belongings in a bag and label them. If you ever get out of here, you’ll get them back.”

  Scrubbed and shivering, Lucius pulled on the slate-colored uniform. The pants were five inches short of his sandaled feet. “Got a pair that fits?”

  “You’re a real comedian, aren’t you?” The booking clerk pointed at a black phone on the wall. “You get one call.”

  Lucius picked up the phone and waited. “What’s this buzzing sound?”

  The clerk grabbed the receiver and held it to his ear. “It’s a dial tone. What’s wrong with you?”

  “How do I reach the Billings Exchange?”

  “The what?” The man’s mouth fell open. “You mean to say you don’t know how to use a phone?”

  “Of course I do,” Lucius retorted. “This one’s different from mine, is all.”

  The clerk shook his head. “Obviously, smartphones didn’t make you smart.”

  “I need to call my friend, Tallulah Thompson. She’ll help me.”

  “You got a number for this person?”

  Lucius shook his head.

  “Then we’re done here.”

  The clerk pointed the way down the hall.

  “Attempted murder and arson. You’ll fit in just fine with these boys. You’ll find it’s a bit crowded. Supposed to have one hundred and forty-seven inmates. As of today, we’re up to four hundred and sixty-four. Even our women’s areas are full up—and we have a baker’s dozen of cranky female inmates sleeping on portable beds in the day room. Heard we’re gonna ship some out to Valley Detention Center.” He shook his head. “No room at the inn.”

  “I’d be happy to make reservations at another hotel,” Lucius said.

  “Ha! You’re funny.” The clerk handed him sheets, towels, and a blanket, then passed him off to a corrections officer. “Your personal CO is here to introduce you to the boys. If you don’t like your accommodations, you can send an email to our customer service representative.”

  “What’s an email?”

  The clerk walked away laughing.

  The CO grabbed the door handle and spoke into a black box on his shoulder, “Control, could you open the
door, please?”

  Something buzzed and the CO yanked the heavy metal door open. “I’ll show you to your cube—we ran out of cells, no private suite for you.’”

  A wave of noise hit Lucius like a body blow, followed by a barrage of sweat, urine, and feces assaulting his nostrils. He tried to cover his ears, but the handcuffs only allowed him to cover one. Taking a deep breath, he shuffled through the entryway. Behind him, the door clanged shut. Everywhere he looked men in identical uniforms lounged on white chairs or stood in knots talking—all staring at him. The CO uncuffed him and pushed him forward, a ripple of snickers following his path.

  A large Asian man with close-cropped hair and a tear drop tattooed on his face sneered at him. “What’s the matter, big boy? You afraid of us?”

  Just like the drunks in New York City and the cowboys in Billings, he thought. Always looking for a fight. Buncha roosters scratching at the dirt. This was no time to show fear. Lucius shrugged. “Well, that depends. Do I fight one of you at a time or all of you at once?”

  “Hey,” the CO shouted. “Knock it off. No fights. You start a fight, you’re gonna look at four walls in solitary for a long time.”

  “Aw, if you do that we won’t be able to have the welcome committee visit him.” The Asian put his palm to his face and batted his eyes.

  Lucius’s gaze snagged on three circular burn scars on the back of the man’s hand. “You should watch where you put out your cigarettes.”

  Anger sparked in the man’s eyes, and his nostrils flared. “Watch your back, bro, or you’re gonna have a rough stay.”

  “That’s enough, Nguyen.” The CO led Lucius to a cube with walls that went up to his hips. A cot with unidentifiable brown stains awaited him. “Here you are, cube twenty-eight. A word of advice, my friend. That guy is on his way to the state prison, a lifer. He’d just as soon kill you as look at you. He doesn’t give a crap. Keep your head down, and pray you make bail before you get hurt.”

  Lucius nodded. “Thanks for the tenderfoot talk. I’ll try to be overcareful, keep my flap shut.”

  “Chow’s on at seven in the morning. Grab a tray full of food and find a table. Avoid the skinheads and the Asians.”