The sheriff cocked a brow. “Bird sisters? That’s a new one.”
“Yes, Mrs. Peacock and Mrs. Canary,” I said. “They’re also from Michigan.”
“Oh, I thought you were trying to be funny.”
I smiled, staring up at Andrew who finally threw up his arms and said, “Fine,” then left without saying another word.
“Sorry,” I said. “He’s an attorney and doesn’t much like Eleanor and me investigating crimes.”
Sheriff Bradley smiled. “Oh, and what crime do you mean, exactly? Not a new one, I hope. Until you ladies showed up, I’ve never even handled a murder investigation.”
“Murder?” I asked with widened eyes. “You mean the family that’s missing?”
“No. I thought you were talking about the body you found in Room 109 of the Goldberg.”
I leaned forward in my chair, the wheels of the chair creaking under my shift in weight. “How can you be so certain that’s it’s murder, Sheriff Bradley?”
“Call me Cliff,” the sheriff said. “Since you’ve come to town, I’ve had to do some checking on you and found out you both are quite the investigators, but it seems that this body is quite old. The anthropologist hasn’t sent me his report quite yet, but I strongly suspect that the remains have been there for over a hundred years. There is evidence that a rope was used to tie the woman down, so I do believe the woman was murdered.”
“So was an autopsy done?”
“Yes. The pathologist came here yesterday, and the woman was also pregnant. The baby was petrified inside the remains, or part of it.”
I took in a haggard breath. “Oh, how awful. So does the pathologist think the woman had miscarried and then died?”
“Hard to tell since the remains are quite old. If the woman was murdered, it’s fair to say that whoever killed the woman is long gone now.”
“You mean dead, don’t you Cliff?” I asked.
“Yes, but I’d sure like to put a timeline together with the date of the remains when I find out for certain.”
“I wonder if the woman is Elizabeth, the prostitute that Jessup Goldberg had supposedly locked away. We heard that she was pregnant.”
“That’s a legend, all right, but there’s no proof there was ever an Elizabeth or that she ever stayed at the hotel in Jessup’s lifetime.”
“Then there’s Wilfred Pullman, Francine’s great-grandfather. She told us a story about how he told her father, Barry, to never go into Room 109.”
Cliff rubbed the back of his neck. “What concerns me the most is that we might never learn the true identity of the woman, or who was really responsible for her death.”
“What bothers me the most is that it might have been covered up all these years. I mean, why would Wilfred tell his family to never go into Room 109? Did Francine go into that room and know about the remains? And if she did, why would she keep it concealed all these years?”
“All good questions, but I suppose it would put a serious black mark on the Pullman family if Wilfred was indeed responsible for the woman’s death.”
“I can’t imagine that should matter, but I guess I can see why Francine might have an interest to conceal it. But first, we’d have to prove she did indeed conceal it.”
The sheriff stood and made way for his coffee maker and made a pot, walking back to his chair, easing himself onto it. “Is that all you came here for, then?”
“No,” I said, “but thanks for sharing that bit of information with us.”
“I know you’d never let this rest otherwise, and I really don’t feel like being bothered constantly.”
“So Francine reported the family missing that disappeared from the Goldberg Hotel?”
“Yes, and I was really upset about it, too. They’ve been gone four days now and that’s too much of a head start if they have gotten themselves lost.”
“Could you give me the family’s name? I’d like to find out more about them.”
“You should know I’m not supposed to do that, Agnes”
“I know, but—”
“That’s a long ‘but’ there.”
“Listen, Sheriff, Agnes really has to know. She had this dream about this family and feels personally involved.”
Cliff ran a hand through his hair. “I guess it doesn’t matter all that much now. I’d sure like any help I can get. The last thing I want to happen is to have another family dead in the desert.” My heart almost skipped a beat as the sheriff said, “Trisha and Aaron Jameson were a young couple with a vivacious daughter, Rebecca.”
“Was she about five?” I asked.
“Sure was. I still can’t believe they’re missing, too. They were very down on their luck and I’m not sure where they heard about Leister’s gold, but they did. Brought mining equipment with them, too. When the guide at the Lemon Pine Mine reported to me that they forced themselves past the allowed tour, I went out there and made them leave. Luckily, they hadn’t gone far because that mine is mighty dangerous.”
“I bet that sure made them mad.”
“That is an understatement. They were very distraught over the whole deal. When I gazed into Trisha’s eyes, I saw desperation mirrored in them. It really had quite an effect on me, but there just wasn’t anything I could do for them. If I knew where that gold was, they’d be the ones I’d tell. Sometimes it’s so easy to just shut off your emotions, but I just couldn’t do it regarding them. It killed me to tell them that Leister’s gold was only a legend, but I just didn’t want to see their corpses in the desert getting picked over by vultures. I had to tell them the truth, no matter how much I knew it would hurt them.”
My heart was about to break for sure now at the sheriff’s genuine admittance. “I just don’t understand. If Leister’s gold is just a legend, then why are they using it in the Gold Rush Festival parade today?”
“That’s Francine’s doing. She thinks it’s good for Silver to have a legend like that.”
“So was there ever really a Peyton Leister?”
“According to his tombstone at the cemetery.”
“Why does Francine have so much power in this town?”
“Because she has the most money in town, I suspect. Her family started the festival years ago and it’s good for business. I just hope nobody gets a mind to take it upon themselves to look for the gold bars.”
I stood and stretched. “Thanks, Sheriff. I so appreciate you sharing your information, and I promise that we’ll keep what you told us to ourselves.” I stared over to where Eleanor still sat. “Isn’t that right, Eleanor?”
“Oh, yes. Whatever Agnes says goes for me.” She grimaced for a moment and asked me, “Can you help me up, Agnes?”
I helped Eleanor up and we left. “I sure hope they have something left over for us to eat. It’s past seven now,” I said.
Chapter Eleven
When we strode into the dining room, it was completely empty. I waltzed up to Bonnie, who was clearing tables, and asked, “Did we miss dinner?”
“I was wondering where you girls were. Yes, the cooks left for the night.” When we both sighed, she added, “I’ll see what I can rustle up.”
Eleanor and I watched as Bonnie disappeared into the back. “Somehow, I envision Bonnie coming back with a peanut butter and jelly sandwich,” I said.
“At this point, I don’t even care.”
Bonnie carried a tray with two plates, setting them down. “Redd’s going to be so mad when he finds out that I snatched his dinner out of the fridge.”
“I don’t want to take his dinner away from him,” I said. “We can just have a peanut butter sandwich.”
“Don’t be silly, Agnes. You’re a guest, and I won’t see any guest going to bed hungry.”
Eleanor and I dug into the prime rib and baked potatoes that we shared. I felt bad about Redd, but I was just so hungry and felt like my blood sugar had done a tailspin downward. It was so eerily quiet with just Eleanor and me in the dining room, and I shivered as I felt a chill, more
so when I knew what that might just mean—that a ghost was nearby or already in the room with us.
“Caroline, is that you?” I whispered.
“Now you call her. Why didn’t you try that when we were stuck in a jail cell?”
“Why didn’t you?”
“Because she only answers to you, Agnes.”
“I don’t see her like that. She’s a free spirit in more ways than one. I don’t ever want to mistreat her, or take her for granted. She was kind enough to go into the library with us earlier.”
“That’s true and I didn’t mean any disrespect. It’s just that I wish she was around more when we really needed her, is all.”
“Me, too, but I’m just not so sure how to get her to show up when I need her all of the time.”
“Maybe you should ask her about that sometime.”
“I already have, actually, and she told me to say her name or think about her, but so far that hasn’t always worked out in my favor.”
“You can’t blame Caroline completely. Not unless you called her and she never came.”
“True, and I never even thought about calling her when we were locked up. Sometimes I forget about this gift of mine, or wish that it would go away.”
Eleanor took a drink of her wine that Bonnie had dropped off a few minutes ago. “I wouldn’t go that far. When it comes to gifts, seeing ghosts isn’t the worst one, like earlier today when we were actually able to have a civilized conversation with Douglas.”
“Are you telling me that it didn’t weird you out just a little bit that he cut you out of that sweater that you were stuck in?”
“A little, but I was just so happy to be free of it that it didn’t matter all that much. What could he do to harm me, anyway?”
All I could think about was Douglas’s jagged knife, but instead, I said, “I think Douglas likes you, Eleanor.”
“What?” she blushed. “Naw, not a chance.”
“He seemed quite intent to speak to you,” I said. “But he’s lonely, I bet, and hasn’t talked with a woman for possibly over a hundred years.”
“True, and we should find a way to get him more books to read. If he’s been dead since 1800-something, I bet he’s already read every book in that small library, probably more than once,” Eleanor said.
“We’ll have to do that just as soon as we can,” I said.
“Do what?” Andrew asked as he came up behind us.
“Stock the library with more current books.”
Andrew’s brow arched. “I don’t know what for. There’s a rather nasty ghost in there—one who carries a knife, don’t forget.”
“Oh, Douglas isn’t all that bad, just a tad misunderstood,” Eleanor said.
“And how would you know that?”
“Because Agnes and I chatted with Douglas earlier today. Agnes thinks he has a little crush on me,” Eleanor gushed.
Andrew’s eyes widened. “Is that right now? Well, I’d feel much better if the two of you stayed out of that library. It’s not like you can trust a spirit.” Andrew had a pained expression on his face. “I’m not exactly sure why I just said that, but it was way easier when I’d never seen a ghost.”
“I know just what you mean, Andrew. That’s why I told Caroline to never reveal herself to you.”
Andrew eased himself into a chair. “So, what’s this Caroline really like?”
“She’s a real nice young lady. She died in the 1930s sometime. Her fiancé ran her over with his car when she left him.”
“I meant what’s she like as a person ... or ghost?”
“She’s nice, like I said, but a little shy when something scary happens.”
“That a shocker, but I can’t say I blame her. I’d like to disappear when something dangerous happens, too.” He laughed.
I forked in another morsel of my prime rib, my taste buds humming a happy tune. Once I swallowed, I said, “I’m so bushed that I just know I’ll sleep like the dead.”
“Agnes Barton, don’t you dare say something like that, and in a haunted hotel, no less,” Eleanor said.
I jumped as I heard a loud boom nearby. “What on earth,” I said.
“Relax. It’s probably the fireworks that were set to go off at dusk.”
“But it was only seven o’clock when we came back from the jailhouse.”
“Are you sure your watch is right? Because it was around eight, then,” Andrew said.
“Okay, fine. It can’t even be dark outside yet.”
“It gets darker here earlier than back home, Agnes.”
Eleanor pushed herself away from the table, and stood. “I’m heading outside, then. I’d hate to miss the fireworks.”
“Go on ahead. I’ll be there just as soon as I finish my dinner.”
“Suit yourself, Agnes,” Eleanor said as she took Andrew’s arm, leaving me to my thoughts.
Seriously, I really wished that I could just crawl upstairs without anyone noticing. I really was tired and I didn’t know how long I’d be able to handle this heat.
After the last of my dinner was finished, I made way for the front door, but froze as I neared the front desk. Two men with guns and scarves covering their faces were threatening Lois. “Hand over the map, or else.”
“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about. What map?”
A loud belch escaped my lips and I grimaced as one of the men now pointed his gun at me. “Hey, you. Get over here, real quiet-like.”
I looked behind me, pointing at my chest. “Who … me?”
“Yes, you. Get moving before the fireworks are over. We don’t want any more company, if you catch my drift.”
I shuffled over there, wishing I had gone outside with Andrew and Eleanor. “Is this another reenactment?” I asked Lois, who vehemently shook her head.
“Hand over your purse, real quick-like.”
“I don’t have any money,” I said, “This place took the last of it.”
“Why do the old bags always cause us so much trouble?” one of the men asked, as he jerked the strap of my purse. I frowned when he had my bag in his hand and opened the zipper, taking out a handful of twenties. “I thought you didn’t have any money?”
“Oh, well, I guess I just forgot is all. We old bags don’t have the best of memories.”
“Get behind the counter and help that woman look for the map.”
I held my hands up as I dragged my feet all the way behind the counter, searching the shelves, but there was nothing more than receipts on them. “I don’t see any map.”
“Show her where the map is, or that old lady gets a slug in her noggin.”
Lois grimaced. “I hardly know the woman, so why would I care if you popped her full of lead?”
I narrowed my eyes. “Perhaps because you’ll have to clean up the blood.”
“Good point, but I just don’t know what map they’re referring to.”
A bag was tossed to me. “Empty the register and fill the bag. I’m getting mighty impatient.”
“Why do I have to do it? I don’t even work here, she does.”
“Because she’s gonna look for the map is why,” one of the men whispered loudly.
“I already told you, I don’t know what map you’re talking about.”
I eyed the brochures on a shelf behind Lois. “Oh, the map,” I said, hitting my forehead with a palm. “It’s right over there, remember, Lois?” I said with a wink that only she could see.
“Oh, yes. Don’t just stand there. Give the men the map.”
I hit the no sale button on the register. “I can’t. I’m filling the bag, remember?” I kept hitting the button, but nothing happened. “I can’t seem to open the register.”
“That’s because we’re not allowed to do a no sale. You’ll need a key to open the register.”
“What are you waiting for? Open that damn register, already.”
“Oh, I can’t do that. Once the no sale key has been hit, the owner will have to come to open the register.”
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One of the gunmen, palm slapped his head. “And she’s where, exactly?”
“Home, I suspect, but I’d be happy to tell her to come straight down here. I’ll be sure to tell her you fellas are in a hurry.”
I smiled. “Sounds like a plan.”
One of the robbers glanced toward the front door and hissed, “Just give us the map already.”
I waltzed over, took a brochure and with a sharpie quickly scrawled a map connecting the various businesses in town with a huge X on the cemetery out of the robber’s line of sight. I then brought the map to the men who snatched it out of my hand and raced into the back.
“Good thinking, Agnes.”
“I’m just glad they left—too bad it was with my purse, though. All of my identification was in there.”
“Not to worry,” Lois said as she picked up the phone and called the sheriff, but hung up without speaking. “He didn’t answer.”
“He’s probably not in his office. He’s most likely outside watching the fireworks. I’ll go fetch him.”
When I raced outside, fireworks lit up the night sky and Andrew grabbed ahold of my hand. “It’s about time you got here. Isn’t it beautiful?” he said.
I tugged my hand away, spotting Sheriff Bradley on the opposite side of the street. I raced across the street and whispered into the sheriff’s ear, “I was just robbed inside the Goldberg Hotel.”
He escorted me back to the hotel and made his way inside. Once we were inside, he asked, “Robbed, how?”
“When I was going outside for the fireworks, two gunmen were threatening Lois. They disappeared out back. Might even still be here for all I know.”
The sheriff took one look at Lois’ face and asked, “Are you okay, Lois?”
“Ruffled up a little, I suppose, but they took off with Agnes’s purse.”
“Did either of you see where they went?”
We shook our heads, and Andrew joined us and took me into his arms. “Oh, Agnes. I should never have left you in the dining room alone.”
“The robbery didn’t happen in the blasted dining room. It happened right here,” Lois said with a curt nod.
“She’s right. They were threatening Lois, demanding a map from her.”
Madison Johns - Agnes Barton Paranormal 02 - Ghostly Hijinks Page 12