by Keta Diablo
Cole sat down across from her. "What’s the game?"
"Three card brag."
"That’s a betting game. What are the stakes?"
"Best of ten hands. If you win, I won’t ask again to be promoted to agent and I’ll give you a free kiss."
"And if you win?"
"Two things: You have to admit that ghosts are real and you give me enough money to go to Kentucky when I solve this case at The Blade." He should’ve known better than to sit down at the card table with the daughter of a gambler.
"What makes you think I can’t solve the case at The Blade on my own?"
"Because it’s a real haunting and you have no idea how to handle one of those."
She might have a point.
"What makes you think I can’t steal a kiss any time I want one?"
Anna giggled. "You’re not that bold."
Cole raised one eyebrow. "Oh, really?" He leaned across the small, round table until his nose was only inches from hers. Her smell filled his nose and it took all the self-control he had not to press his lips against hers. "I wouldn’t count on that. Deal the cards."
Annabelle beat him soundly. Seven hands to three.
"You were telling the truth when you said you weren’t much of a card player," she teased, gathering up the cards. "Want to make good on your wager now?"
Cole shook his head. "After we solve the case."
"Chicken."
Chapter Six
Early Friday morning, Cole woke well before dawn and decided that a couple of hours in the office might clear his mind and give him a better direction on The Blade case. No matter how many different ways he sliced it, the sounds at the saloon were a mystery.
Anna was his only lead at this point and that scared him.
In the years he’d worked for Tremayne, he’d seen plenty of "psychics", men and women who claimed they could find lost objects, communicate with the dead, and predict the future. All of them had been frauds, hustlers out to make a quick buck.
But Annabelle was different.
He still wasn’t a believer but for the first time, doubt was beginning to creep into his brain. There was no way she could’ve known anything about The Blade, the contents of the letter, or the mirror. He’d never mentioned the fact that he was working for Katherine Busbee, the letter had never been out of his possession and Annabelle had never taken it out of the envelope, and he’d been alone when he’d seen that floor mirror that made the hair on the back of his neck stand up.
She’d even known Julia’s name.
Maybe she was just like all the others, a hustler, but if she was, she was a damn good actress.
He was torn between wanting to believe that she was the real thing and his strong conviction that the paranormal didn’t exist.
This case might change everything.
He let himself out of the front door of Mrs. Stampley’s house and walked toward the office. The streets were blessedly quiet and cool. A full moon hung over Reno and Cole marveled at it all the way to the front door of the office.
The place was so clean. Anna had done a remarkable job tidying up the place. All the loose papers and reports had been filed away and the books were arranged so that any title was easy to find. The floors shone and there wasn’t a speck of dust anywhere. In less than a week she’d transformed the office from a pig sty into a respectable place of business.
God, I’m going to miss her.
It was nice to have a neat office but more than that it was nice to have Anna bustling in and out of the office on a regular basis. He was becoming very attached to her and he was going to miss her when she left for Kentucky. Cole was even getting used to being her husband. Even without the conjugal visits, she was the best thing to happen to his life in a very long time. Maybe forever.
With a sigh, he sat down behind his desk and pulled a pencil from the drawer. Maybe putting everything he knew on paper might break the case.
Anna came in at a little before eight and made coffee. "Morning," she said.
The new yellow dress was lovely and brought out the best in her complexion. "Rest well?"
"I always sleep like a log after a big win at the card tables."
"Braggart," he teased.
"I get it, honest," she said in a reference to her father. "My Papa would brag for two weeks about winning a penny. At least I got a good deal out of the wager. Actually, we both did."
"How’s that?"
"You’re going to be able to put the case at The Blade in the solved column."
"Speaking of The Blade, are you ready to go look around?"
"I’m waiting on you."
"Then let’s go investigate."
After Cole closed the front door of the office behind them, Anna placed her hand on his elbow. "Got to look the part of the Missus," she said, adjusting her hat to shield her face from the sun. They walked down 3rd toward Virginia Street.
Her smell, that curious mixture of lavender and vanilla, wafted on the breeze and it was hard to keep his mind on anything but the way she’d tasted when he’d kissed her. Cole was going to have to figure out a way to separate work from pleasure. It wasn’t a problem he’d ever had in the past. Sure, he’d seen some attractive women while working on cases back in St. Louis but none of them had the effect on him that Annabelle did.
And Anna was leaving. As soon as this case was solved.
He had no doubt she’d take care of that in short order. Even though it was going to break his heart when she left, he understood her need to get home in time to see her dying grandmother before it was too late.
The Blade was as quiet as a cemetery.
Cole reached into his pocket and found the key Mrs. Busbee had given him. "Are you sure you’ll be alright?"
Anna’s green eyes were large and solemn. "No. I’m not, but I have to find a way to help Julia. She’s haunting me."
If the air hadn’t felt so still, he might have laughed. "Then let’s get to work."
She took his hand and followed him up the steps to the porch.
"If it gets to be too much, I’m taking you out of here and solving the case on my own. I won’t let you get hurt." He meant it. No matter how badly he needed to solve this case, she came first.
Anna shook her head. "We have a deal and I expect you to honor it. No matter what."
* * *
The Blade wasn’t the first saloon she’d been in but it was certainly the biggest. While she’d never ordered a drink or played a hand of cards in a place like this, she’d gone to drag Papa home plenty of times. It wasn’t unusual for him to go on a two or three-day bender, leaving her with nothing to eat. She wished she could hate her father but she couldn’t find it in her heart. She still remembered the man she’d known when she was a girl, before mama and the baby died, before the drink, before the gambling.
Anna wasn’t a fool. She knew she’d never see that version of her daddy again but deep in her heart, she held a tiny thimble-full of hope.
"Feeling anything?" Cole’s question brought her back to the present.
"Nothing yet." The lack of feeling surprised her. When she’d walked past this place on her way to the Wemberlys, the feeling, like a strong vibration, had come over her in a paralyzing wave, but now she felt as empty as the rooms upstairs. "Can you show me where you found that letter?"
Cole nodded and gestured for her to follow him upstairs. With each step, she stirred up a cloud of dust. The stairs creaked and groaned and while she knew it was the age of the wood, it still spooked her.
He stopped in front of a door tucked into a corner of the upstairs hall. "Want me to come with you or stand out here in the hall?"
Both times she’d gone into one of her trances, Cole had been the one to pull her out of it. She depended on him and she didn’t want to be alone if anything happened. In only a few days, she’d grown very close to him. "Can you stay with me?"
He took her hand in his larger one and together, they stepped into the room.
&
nbsp; The vibration hit her so hard her knees threatened to buckle beneath her. In all the years of dreaming, she’d never felt anything like it. Strong was an understatement. "She’s here," Annabelle whispered.
"How do you know?"
Cole’s voice faded into the background and the vibration in the room got stronger. "She’s here," Annabelle said. Cole took a step backward, toward the door but she was rooted to the floor. "She won’t hurt you."
"How do you know?" His voice was barely more than a whisper.
"I just know. She’s heartbroken, not violent."
Julia, the woman in green, stood directly in front of her. She shimmered, the fibers of her dress seeming to move around and rearrange themselves continuously. Her skin was clear and she wore only minimal makeup, a tiny bit of rogue and pinkish lip color. She was so real Annabelle was almost certain she could reach out and touch her. But for some reason, she hesitated. It didn’t feel right. "Are you Julia?"
The ghostly woman nodded.
It was difficult to read the expression on her face so Annabelle took one step closer to her. "Is there something we can help you with?"
"Get out. Get out!" Her voice was sinister and filled with hatred. "Get him out!" She pointed one filmy finger at Cole and rushed toward the two of them and Cole grabbed her arm and pulled her into the hallway.
Annabelle wasn’t giving up that easily. She took one step backward and bumped into the solid form of Cole. "But you’ve been coming to me in my dreams, begging for my help. Why would you want me to leave?"
Julia let out a bloodcurdling scream, so high-pitched that every hair on Annabelle’s body stood up. She grabbed the exquisite stand mirror and tipped it over, the glass shattering into thousands of tiny pieces. "I hate him," she roared. "And I never want to see myself again."
Julia rushed toward them and they fled, running as fast as they could, toward the stairs. Clambering down into the bar area, Annabelle looked behind her and what she saw was terrifying. Julia had changed from a beautiful woman in a well-made green gown into a wraith so chilling that Annabelle couldn’t seem to look away.
Her skin, which, just moments ago, looked like the finest porcelain was now a horrifying shade of bluish-gray. The dress was torn and tattered and mud coated the hem. With fleshless fingers of bone, Julia pointed one directly in Annabelle’s face. "I want him gone."
Annabelle had never been this terrified. She tasted the iron tang of fear in the back of her throat and swallowed hard. "If he leaves, will you talk to me?"
"You should have never brought him here. He doesn’t belong here." Her voice dripped with acidic hatred.
"Cole, meet me outside." Annabelle said through clenched teeth. "I’ll be all right.
"I won’t leave you here with her." He placed both hands on her shoulders. "It’s not safe."
"Go!" Julia’s voice was so loud, so shrill, that it made Annabelle’s ears hurt. It sounded like a wounded animal, desperate and frightening.
"No." Cole stood firm, his grip still firm.
Julia smiled, revealing rotten and corrupt teeth. "You will go." She raised her right hand, her fingers clenched in a fist. When she opened it to reveal a palm with a hunk of flesh missing, she moved it toward the bar. Every glass, every bottle shattered, shards of glass flying into the air and clattering onto the floor. Annabelle brought her arm up and covered her eyes and waited for the noise to stop.
A small chunk of glass grazed her cheek and then warm blood began to trail down her face.
It wasn’t the first time she’d been in a saloon when a fight broke out but this was the first time she’d been present for a ghostly one.
"Go," Julia hissed, looking directly at Cole, "or it will only get worse."
Annabelle looked over her shoulder and up at Cole. "On the porch. Wait for me."
He placed the tip of his index finger on the cut. "I won’t leave you. This might need a stitch or two."
"It’s not that bad. We’ll never solve this case if you don’t give her the chance to talk to me alone. You’re clearly agitating her."
His eyes met hers and she felt the close connection they’d built working together. "If you’re not out there soon, I’m coming back for you."
The fear in his eyes, fear for her well-being, melted her heart. Before she realized what she was doing, she went onto tiptoe and kissed him on the cheek. "I’ll be right there," she whispered against his cheek.
He squeezed her hand and walked out the front door. Annabelle turned to face Julia. She had no idea how to approach the situation, how to handle an irate ghost, so she decided to hit it head-on. "What in the world were you thinking, Julia? I hope you intend to clean up this mess."
Julia had transformed back into the woman she’d seen in the upstairs bedroom and in her dreams. The dress was repaired and her skin shone in the low light of the saloon. "You can clean it up." She sounded like an impertinent schoolgirl.
"I will not." Annabelle tried to make her voice sound firm even though her insides wobbled with every word. "I came here to help you and you’ve not only torn up the saloon but you’ve really scared both Cole and me."
"I don’t care about him. Or this place."
Annabelle turned her back on Julia to survey the damage. Not a single glass remained and the smell of whiskey filled the room. The sharpness of it took her back to Virginia City and she shivered at the memory.
"How did you cause all this damage with the palm of your hand?" Annabelle asked without turning around. She needed a moment to pull herself together, get a handle on how to best approach Julia. While she’d dreamed of her enough to feel like she knew her, the reality was far different, far scarier.
What was Julia’s connection to Cole? It didn’t seem likely that she was that angry with a man she’d never even met in life. The rage seemed personal and Annabelle intended to get to the bottom of it. Aside from the fact that she needed to solve this case to get the train ticket back to Kentucky, after meeting Julia, she knew the woman would never let her rest until the problem, whatever it was, was fixed.
"But screw your courage to the sticking place and we'll not fail," she whispered to herself again and then she turned back to Julia. "It’s just the two of us now. Tell me how I can help. Please."
Julia leaned back onto the bar. "Where’s my mirror?"
"It’s in my room. What’s the significance?"
"You ought to know." Julia’s voice was high-pitched and petulant. Apparently all ghosts weren’t easy to get along with.
"But I don’t," Annabelle said, trying to maintain her patience. "So please tell me so I can help you."
"Georgie sent it to me from California. It was supposed to be an engagement gift but it wasn’t anything more than a bauble to keep me from asking too many questions."
"What kind of questions?" Annabelle prided herself on being quick-witted but she wasn’t keeping up with Julia. She was confused and needed Julia to explain everything from start to finish.
Julia huffed. "Questions about who he really was. Is."
"I don’t follow you. Why don’t you start at the beginning?"
"For that, I’m going to need a drink."
Annabelle glanced at the shattered bottles on the floor. "There’s nothing left."
Julia’s laughter filled the empty saloon, the sound eerie and haunting. "I carry my own." From her reticule, she pulled a small flask. "Want to share?"
Annabelle shook her head. "No, thank you."
After tossing back the flask two or three times, Julia began her story. "I wasn’t always a working girl." Sadness crept into her voice and replaced some of the anger. "I used to be a lady fit to win the hand of the most eligible bachelors in the West, but after Georgie, I was ruined."
"Tell me about him."
"I met him on a train. This dress was brand new, green as summer grass, and my parents and I were traveling from St. Louis to Kansas City. He was across the aisle and I knew instantly that he was the man for me." She looked off into the dis
tance and smiled. "He was tall with eyes the color of a storm cloud and dark curls. I fell in love with him the first moment I saw him. I had no idea he was Preston Astonbury."
Annabelle was beginning to see the threads of the mystery. "Did he feel the same way?"
Julia pursed her lips and sighed. "I thought so at the time but looking back, I was nothing but a plaything to him. A diversion. He was heading all the way to San Francisco and promised he’d send for me. A few weeks later, he sent me a ticket for Reno. I was to come here and he’d meet me and take me to Frisco, where we’d marry. The mirror was waiting on me when I arrived. He wasn’t."
"He never came?"
She shook her head. "After a couple of weeks, I ran out of money. He advised me to come to The Blade, telling me Mrs. Katherine might hire me as a barmaid. I’d risked everything for him. Turned down the son of governor, ran away from home. I’d put all my hopes into him."
"You weren’t a barmaid for very long, were you?" Annabelle had been in the West long enough to know the fate of women like Julia.
Julia shook her head. "He’d planned it all along. I was so young, so beautiful. So naïve." Her voice was wistful.
Annabelle was so thankful she hadn’t ended up in the same predicament. Hundreds of women were forced to turn to prostitution when they had no other way to make a living. "I’m so sorry, Julia."
"He advertised me. Put my name in newspapers, called me Julia the Vestal Virgin. He made a fortune on my lack of experience. The first man paid several hundred dollars." The woman reached out her ghostly hand and placed it on top of Annabelle’s. "I won’t let it happen to anyone else. That’s why I’m here and that’s why I’m not leaving until this place is closed for good."
"But he’ll only find other girls, send them to other saloons."
"Not if everyone figures out who he really is." She took a slug of the whiskey in her flask. "I intend to ruin him."
"Wouldn’t you rather go home?"
"No. My parents disowned me, my sisters, too. There’s nothing for me at home."
Annabelle shook her head. "That’s not the home I meant. Don’t you want to go to the light? With God? Leave all this pain and heartbreak behind?"