44 Book Five

by Jools Sinclair

  “You know, Ghostbusters was one of my favorite movies growing up. Me and my sister must have watched it a hundred times. Bill Murray’s so cool. Still.”

  “When he’s on there’s no one better,” I said. “Anyway, when I’m not playing Dr. Peter Venkman or river guiding on the Deschutes I’m usually playing soccer.”

  “Orale.”

  “How do you do it?” I asked her. It had been on my mind since visiting the club. “I mean how do you get up in that cage and dance like that?”

  “After a while you don’t think about it. The people looking at you and all that. I didn’t look around when I first started, but after a while I noticed that most of them don’t even look at me and if they do it’s usually for just a few seconds. Now I just get lost in the music and tune the rest of it out. I imagine it probably isn’t that different from when you play soccer. I mean, when you’re on and feeling it, I bet you don’t notice much else.”

  “I guess,” I said.

  We went back to the file. There was another article that mentioned the owner of the Silver Dollar, a man named Clyde Tidwell. He had been shot in the head and killed during a heated poker game.

  I handed the story to Paloma.

  “This is some real Wild West stuff right here,” she said.

  A minute later she handed me one of the other clippings. Her hand was trembling.

  It was a story about the murder of one of the prostitutes. She had been strangled. The story said that the killing followed the same pattern of two earlier murders. The police had no suspects.

  We kept reading, but didn’t find any other mention of the murder of the three women. I assumed the killer was never caught.

  Near the bottom of the file I found a photo of one of the victims. Her name was Inez Morales. I blinked hard in disbelief. She looked a lot like Paloma.

  It wasn’t just because they were both Hispanic. The woman had short hair, which I thought was unusual for back then. She appeared to be around Paloma’s age. And there was something about the eyes.

  I wasn’t sure if the stale air of the place had gotten to me, but the more I looked at the picture the more I felt like they were dead ringers.

  Paloma didn’t seem to notice the resemblance, so I let it go. I didn’t need to add that worry to her plate on top of everything else she was going through.

  We finished reading and learned that the building housed a restaurant after Tidwell’s death. Following that it became a country western bar. From the 1970s up through Club 6, several different bars had come and gone in the spot, none staying for very long.

  From the accounts it seemed like there was always violence associated with the place. Fights and stabbings and assaults plagued whatever establishment set up shop there.

  “It seems cursed,” Paloma said.

  At the very bottom of the pile, there was an old photo of the Silver Dollar from the early 1900’s. Several men were standing out in front, dressed in top hats and clothing from that era. The photo was grainy, and their faces were hard to make out. All I could really tell was that no one was smiling. They just all stared at the camera, serious, hollow expressions on their faces.

  I always thought there was something unnerving about old photos. How no one ever smiled in them.

  I pushed it over to Paloma.

  “Do you recognize any of them?” I said.

  She studied the picture for a long time, looking into the face of each of the men. Finally, she let out a long sigh.

  “I can’t tell,” she said. “I want to… I want to recognize one of them so bad, Abby. But I just can’t tell. The photo’s too old.”

  I nodded.

  “So what does this mean?” she asked.

  “I don’t know,” I said, trying to hide my disappointment at not having found something more concrete. “I think it’s a good start.”

  “Does that mean you believe me? Even though you can’t see him, you believe me that I see a ghost?”

  I hesitated for a moment with my answer. I wanted it to sound right.

  “I think it’s possible. I didn’t see him, but like I said, I’m not a professional. There’s still a lot I don’t know about that world. Maybe he’s able to show himself just to you for some reason. I don’t know. I don’t know how it all works over there.”

  Paloma looked down and nodded.

  “That means a lot, Abby,” she said. Her voice shook a little, like she was trying to swallow back tears. “Everyone else just thinks I’m crazy.”

  “I know how that feels,” I said.

  I organized the clippings and put them back in the folder. We left the room, and I placed the file back on the counter where the old lady came out to retrieve it.

  “Did you find what you were looking for?” she asked.

  “Some of it,” I said. “Thank you for your help.”

  She nodded. We walked out the door.

  It felt good to get outside into the bright sunlight, away from that stagnant air.

  “Well, thanks again, Abby,” Paloma said as we walked to the parking lot.

  “I’m going to think about what we learned today and maybe run it by a friend of mine who knows more than I do,” I said. “I’ll call you. Hang in there.”

  “You mean in my cage?” She smiled.

  She got into her car and brought down her window.

  “It’s weird. I know we didn’t find much, but I feel a little bit better about it all,” she said. “Maybe everything’s going to be okay.”

  She started up the engine and backed out. She turned up the stereo and Christina Aguilera started screaming. I waved at her as she pulled out of the lot.

  “I hope so,” I said when she was down the street. “I hope you’re right.”

  At first I wanted to help Paloma because it was the right thing to do. But it was becoming more than that. It was becoming personal. I liked her. I liked her a lot.

  CHAPTER 19

  The customers were well behaved and all the runs were smooth.

  I had time to think about Paloma and what we had discovered at the historical society. It wasn’t much really. Nothing that left me feeling like we were any closer to finding out who her ghost was or what he wanted. I supposed that, if he was real, he might not even be connected to Club 6. For all I knew, he could have attached himself to her somewhere else.

  I knew it was too early to start feeling hopeless. But on the other hand, the more I thought about it, the harder it became to find any evidence that I was making progress. The whole thing was beginning to take on a dead in the water feeling.

  We ran through Big Eddy and the kids in my group screamed and laughed all the way through. I had two families in the raft, three little kids. I kept the youngest one close to me.

  “We had a great time,” the dad said afterwards, walking back over to me while his family climbed up into the bus. He handed me a tip and I thanked him.

  “Have you done this a long time?” he asked.

  “This is my second year,” I said.

  “Lucky,” he said. “I’m back at work on the 16th floor on Monday. Thanks again.”

  I stood there as the bus pulled out, a cloud of dust trailing behind it as it made its way toward the highway. A hawk circled overhead. I inhaled the sweet air and walked to the van heading back up to meet the new group.

  I was lucky.

  I would miss the river.

  I would miss it a lot.

  CHAPTER 20

  Choice was the wrong word. It implied closing doors, eliminating certain things, leaving someone out. So I didn’t make a choice. Instead, I made a decision.

  After work I drove over to Ten Barrel to tell Ty. I sat at a table outside.

  “I’ll go get him,” Cliff said when he saw me.

  Large thunder clouds blew by quickly up above, a strong wind pushing them. I watched Ty as he made his way toward me from across the restaurant. He looked happy. And when he smiled, it sent those familiar chills down my back.

  �
��Hey,” he said. “This is a surprise. What’s up?”

  “I wanted to talk to you. Do you have a minute?”

  “Sure. Everything okay?”

  “Oh, yeah. Everything’s fine. Great, really.”

  He stood, waiting.

  “Do you want something?”

  “Sure,” I said, leaning back and trying to relax a little. “I’ll take a Coke.”

  I was stalling already. He was back in a minute and set the glass down on the table while I fiddled with a napkin. He sat down.

  “How are you doing?” I asked.

  “Excellent,” he said.

  I took a drink.

  He lowered his voice.

  “You sure everything is okay?”

  “Oh, yeah,” I said, trying to sound relaxed. “Looks like something is blowing in.”

  “Maybe.Seems like it’s been like this all summer. A little rumbling, but nothing too serious.”

  I exhaled.

  “I’d like to go with you,” I said finally. “You know, on your backpacking trip. If you’re still going.”

  Our eyes locked for a moment and then he smiled.

  “Really?” he said. “But I thought you couldn’t get away?”

  “No, I can. I mean, I did already. Mike said it wasn’t a big deal. So, yes, I can come. I mean, I’d like to.”

  I was stuttering, nervous. He kissed me.

  “It’ll be nice to take a break and get some fresh mountain air,” he said.

  He took my hand and I smiled.

  ***

  I had written to Claire, my psychic friend in London, shortly after the visit to the historical society, but I still hadn’t heard back. I wasn’t sure what she could really do from so far away, but I figured that any insight would help.

  I told her everything, including the details of my visit to Club 6 and how even though Paloma saw the ghost in front of her, I hadn’t been able to see anything. I also filled her in with some of the information we had learned about the building when we researched it.

  I was watching an old movie and surfing around when Claire’s email came in. I opened it right away.

  Hi, Abby.

  It certainly sounds like your friend is in a bloody awful situation, doesn’t it?

  It appears that she has attracted this entity somehow, and I would doubt that he will simply let her go so easily. Perhaps there’s a priest or holy man in your area that could bless her? I think that would help. And if she could find another job elsewhere with the greatest of haste, I would advise that as well.

  Personally, I’ve been very lucky in that I’ve had few dealings with the dark side. I make every effort to avoid it.

  I have found over the years that spirits are very much like people in that there are all types floating about. Some are charming and others are sinister. We must protect ourselves from the evil ones as best we can. I make it a habit of cloaking myself in white light in my mind before approaching any dubious spirit and would advise you to do the same.

  I think the strangest part of all this, Abby, is that you have not been able to see this particular spirit. It’s an important element and should not be set aside. You should consider that either you are up against a very powerful entity that is able to keep you away, or perhaps it is just the sad fact that your friend is a bit barmy.

  I hope some of this helps. You will let me know how all this turns out, won’t you?

  Cheers.

  Claire

  I closed my laptop and put it aside, thinking about what she wrote while I flipped through the TV stations.

  From what Claire was saying, it was a lose-lose situation.

  Either Paloma had a very dangerous ghost attached to her or she was crazy.

  Either way, it didn’t look good.

  ***

  “Hope you guys are all right up there,” Kate said, staring up at the sky.

  We had heard the first thunder clap while cleaning up after dinner. I pulled the lawn chairs over to the patio so we could watch the storm protected from the rain.

  “Yeah, me too,” I said. “But it’s getting to be now or never. The hiking season up there is just for a few more weeks, unless you don’t mind camping in the snow.”

  I kicked off my sandals.

  “Boy, those are thrashed,” Kate said, looking at them.

  “Yeah. I’ll have to get some more for next year.”

  “So you’re signing on again, huh?” she asked.

  “Think so.”

  There was a long time between here and next summer and there was a chance that I would try something else, something more like a career. Someday I’d have to think about my plans for the future.

  Lightning streaked across the sky, followed by distant thunder as we watched two squirrels jumping through the garden, playing and chasing each other.

  “Thunderstorms are the best,” Kate said. “Reminds me of when we were kids. Remember? Mom would always sit with us out here and watch.”

  “Yeah,” I said. “I remember. Hey, I called the restaurant and scheduled my classes. I start in a few weeks.”

  Kate had bought me a month’s worth of Italian cooking classes for my birthday from a local chef who owned a restaurant in town. I had been too busy to start, but now I had some time and was really looking forward to it.

  “Awesome,” she said.

  “Thanks, Kate. I can’t wait.”

  It was nice sitting back here, with not much to do. Ty said he was packing everything up, that all I had to do was be ready.

  “Backyard looks really nice this year,” I said. “The pond, and all the flowers. It’s very peaceful out here.”

  I put my feet up on the small wooden table. Another flash streaked down, this time in a jagged vertical line. The thunder followed, sharp and loud.

  “So what time are you heading out tomorrow?”

  “Nine.”

  A strong gust blew past us, knocking over a stack of empty plastic plant containers by the side of the house and scattering them across the yard. As Kate ran to collect them, a few drops fell out of the sky.

  CHAPTER 21

  The next morning it looked as though there had never even been a storm, with only a few wispy clouds stretched faintly across the sky.

  “How does it feel?” Ty asked after we walked a few feet. He had given me a small pack while he had a huge one on his back.

  “Oh, it’s so heavy,” I said. “Could you take a few more things?”

  He laughed.

  “Anything you want,” he said. “So, really, it feels okay?”

  “Come on, it’s like the pack’s empty. Even Kate makes me carry more than this when we go out on a day hike. Seriously, give me a few more things.”

  “Keep walking,” he said.

  The air was cool as we hiked along the dirt trail, following the stream past loud waterfalls and small meadows. The path kept climbing up, eventually meeting the first Green Lake at the base of South Sister, with Broken Top to the right, where we took a candy bar break.

  “Beautiful,” Ty said.

  We took off our shoes, sat down by the lake, and soaked our feet in the cold water.

  “I haven’t been up here in a while,” I said. “But it’s just like I remember it.”

  Ty took some pictures before we got back on the trail. We made it up to Golden Lake by late afternoon, the sun slanted in the sky, the warm glow catching the grasses just right. Ty pulled out the tent and we set it up in a small grove of trees off to the side, next to a meadow. We seemed to have the place to ourselves.

  “Are you hungry?” he asked.

  “Starved. What’s for dinner?”

  “It’s a surprise,” he said.

  “I can help.”

  “Nope,” he said, unpacking gear. “It’s my turn to show off my culinary skills. You just relax.”

  He brought out the stove and set up a makeshift kitchen on a flat rock while I headed down to a small stream and pumped some water. I washed my face and hands,
the water cold on my cheeks.

  It felt good to be here.

  While Ty worked on dinner, I walked over to the lake and stared out at it. It was small, a few ripples rolling in the wind, sparkling in the last of the fading sun.

  When I came back, Ty handed me a paper plate. He had made a pesto linguini, with a sprinkling of extra pine nuts and cheese on top.

  “You made all this now?” I said, sopping the sauce up with a slice of bread.

  “I made the pesto last night,” he said.

  “I didn’t even know you could cook.”

  “Just out here,” he said. “I get inspired. I found this recipe online, a site for cooking in the woods. This is pretty damn good, huh?”

  “It’s beyond damn,” I said, smiling.

  I looked out across the lake.

  “So is it really true there aren’t any bears out here?”

  “I’m not sure if every single one is gone, but I think most are,” I said.

  “That’s kind of weird. What about mountain lions?”

  “Yeah,” I said. “We have some of those. Even over at Pilot Butte sometimes.”

  We cleaned up and gathered sticks and branches as the sun sank behind Middle Sister and crisp, cool air fell around us. I made a ring with small rocks and we got a fire going. We sat there on a log, our breaths foggy in front of us, mixing together and vanishing in the flames and embers.

  “It’s going to be a perfect night for the stars,” he said. “It’s a new moon.”

  He got up and grabbed the sleeping bags, laying them side by side close to the fire.

  He started talking about his childhood in Montana and riding horses, about his dad and growing up on a ranch.

  “Do you ride?” he asked, picking up a stick and breaking it, throwing the pieces one by one into the fire.

  I laughed.

  “Just in circles at birthday parties,” I said. “It’s been a while.”

  “Maybe we’ll go sometime. Maybe you’ll come back to the ranch.”

  The first stars twinkled above as we fed the fire. When the sky was black and full of stars, our conversation slowed.