The Other Side: A Novel in the Alastair Stone Chronicles

by R. L. King

  She glared at him. “It’s not bullshit, Larry. How many times do I have to tell you that?”

  “Yeah, yeah—well, let’s see some more of it, okay? The viewers want mumbo-jumbo.”

  “I can’t help it if I’m not getting anything.” She glared harder, then turned her back on him and stalked off toward the cameraman.

  “Larry, tone it down,” Petrucci ordered. “I’m the director, remember?”

  “Well, get this thing under control, then,” he snapped. “Time’s money, and we should have been upstairs by now.” He looked around. “Rita! Where the hell are you?”

  “I’m right behind you,” Rita said.

  Stone caught the look of pure hatred on her face before she wiped it to a mask of long-suffering patience when Duncan turned around.

  “Yeah. Well, don’t run off,” Duncan was saying. “Go help Nick get that fucking camera straightened out. This is turning into a clusterfuck, and we’ve barely started.”

  Stone glanced at his watch. He still had five minutes before Duncan wanted them all back together, and the last thing he wanted to do was spend it with this squabbling crew. He drifted toward the back of the house in the direction of the kitchen, the only room where they’d already finished filming. They hadn’t found anything in the gutted space and Stone hadn’t wanted to risk shifting to magical sight while on camera in case somebody noticed him zoning out.

  He stopped in the middle of the room and shifted over, scanning the area he could see without moving, rather than possibly having to explain to anybody who happened by why he was turning in place in the middle of the kitchen.

  The mist was still there, about as strong as it had been when he’d checked earlier. It mostly hugged the floor, shifting langorously as if a faint breeze wafted along at knee height. He focused his attention up higher, taking a look at the rotted cabinets and counters and the peeling wallpaper, but saw nothing out of the ordinary. It appeared that the renovation hadn’t yet begun in this room—the only evidence of attention was that the floor and counters were clear of trash and debris.

  Also, apparently, of ghosts.

  Stone was about to switch back to normal sight and return to the front room when he heard voices.

  At first he thought it was just more of Duncan’s crew sniping at each other, but quickly realized it was coming not from the front of the house, but from the rear. Curious, he stood still and listened.

  “—telling you, this isn’t working. I just want to go home.” The first voice was female, and sounded as if it were one step away from breaking into sobs. It also sounded tantalizingly familiar, but Stone couldn’t quite make out who the speaker was.

  “We are home,” a male voice responded. “Look—I know it’s hard, but you promised. You know how much this means to me.”

  “Like hell it does,” the woman snapped. “You just don’t want to look bad in front of rich uncle George.”

  “Forget it,” the man said. “Just forget it. I should have known I couldn’t count on your support. You never wanted to—”

  And suddenly, Stone knew who was speaking—it had to be Randy and Mary Yates. And here he was eavesdropping on their private argument. Awkward. He coughed loudly.

  Immediately, both of them stopped speaking. A second later, Randy Yates came around the corner, looking startled. “Dr. Stone! I didn’t realize—”

  “Sorry, sorry. Was just taking a little break from—” He gestured toward the front of the house.

  “No problem.” He swallowed and for a moment stood in uncomfortable silence. Apparently, Mary didn’t intend to make an appearance. “I’ll just—”

  “Yes,” Stone agreed at the same time. “I need to be getting back.” There wasn’t much else he could say to make this any less uneasy, so getting out was probably his best bet.

  He hurried back to the front, wondering what kind of hornet’s nest he’d signed up for when he’d agreed to do the show. He envied Mortenson, who could spend the day lounging in her room, going through files that were probably far more interesting than this drafty house and this collection of disagreeable people. Outside, the rain had picked up and was coming down hard, pattering against the roof.

  Duncan and Petrucci seemed to have gotten the group under control by the time he arrived. They all stood around now, assistants fussing at their gear and touching up their makeup and hair. As soon as Stone appeared, one of them finished up with Huff and came over to him to do the same.

  “Okay,” Petrucci said. “Everybody back and ready to go? No more bullshit, people, okay? We’ve got a lot to do and I want to have a break before the night shoot. So behave yourselves, got it? Let’s get into position and head upstairs. It’s more interesting up there, so hopefully we’ll get something we can use. Places!”

  Nick, carrying his handheld camera, hurried up the stairs and positioned himself to get a good view of the team coming up. Petrucci shooed all the assistants and others off to the side, where they’d move the main camera during the break. As soon as Riley, Celina, Huff, and Stone were situated at the foot of the stairs, Petrucci called, “Okay, action!”

  Stone followed the others up, their footsteps creaking with appropriately ominous spookiness as they drew near the top. It was much dimmer up here; the place did have electricity, but only about half of the lights were functional. A single naked bulb in the hall’s ceiling illuminated their progress.

  “Let’s take a look in here,” Riley said when they got to the top, pointing off to his left. “This is Jacob Brunder’s suite—let’s see if we can find anything interesting inside. Celina, Cody, you getting anything at all?”

  Huff looked down at the black box he carried. “Meters are moving a little—let’s get closer.”

  Celina nodded. “I’m feeling…something. Can’t make it out yet, but there’s something in there.” She, too, glanced down at her device. “EM readings are elevated.”

  “Looks like we’ve got something,” Riley said, turning to face Nick and the camera off to the side. “Just through this door—” He reached for it.

  “Cut,” Petrucci called from behind them. “Okay, Nick, get inside so you can get their reactions as they come in. Everybody else get out of the shot.”

  The cameraman opened the door and hurried into the room, closing it behind him.

  “No screams,” Stone murmured to Huff. “That’s a good sign, I suppose.”

  Huff chuckled, but Celina shot him a nasty look. Riley ignored them all.

  “Okay, roll camera!” Petrucci called from around a corner behind them.

  Riley pushed the door open and stepped inside. Celina and Huff followed, with Stone bringing up the rear. They all paused just inside the room, taking it in so Nick could get some good shots of their initial impressions.

  Despite its aged and worn appearance, it was clear that Jacob Brunder’s bedroom suite had once been impressive. Even after all these years, rich touches like bits of the flocked wallpaper (now gray and faded), sections of the inlaid ceiling, and a warped floor once built of fine wood still remained. Sections of the wall looked as if they’d been scrubbed, perhaps to remove graffiti, and the room currently contained no furniture. Another doorway opened into the rest of the suite, though it had no door. Once again, a single hanging bulb overhead illuminated the middle of the room, throwing crazy shadows into the corners.

  “This is pretty fancy,” Riley said in the general direction of the camera, shining his flashlight around. “Jacob Brunder was by far the richest man in Brunderville, and you can see it in the way he and his daughter Sarah lived. You have to realize, most of the other townspeople lived in small houses and shacks that got constructed fast to keep up with the gold-hunters pouring into the town. But this place—Brunder was obviously planning to stay a while. Let’s turn off our lights for a minute and see if we can g
et anything from him.”

  Huff switched off the overhead bulb, and one by one they turned off their flashlights until the only remaining light came from Nick’s camera and the displays of Huff’s and Celina’s electronic instruments.

  “Yes…” Celina murmured. “I’m definitely getting something here. There’s definitely energy…”

  “I see it too,” Huff said, holding up his meter.

  “Mr. Brunder, are you here?” Riley called. “Sarah? Do you want to talk to us? We’re listening, if you’ve got something to say.”

  Stone figured he could get away with a quick glance with magical sight in the dimness. Aside from the crew’s auras and the wispy red fog, he didn’t see any other hot spots. Certainly no hovering figures or other signs of a “ghostly” presence.

  A bolt of lightning outside lit up the room, and a few seconds later a loud peal of thunder rumbled.

  “Mr. Brunder? Sarah? Are you here?” Riley called more loudly. “Please, if you’re here, give us a sign. We’re listening.”

  A scuffling sound rang out in the silence, followed by a crash and “Shit!” from Cody Huff.

  “Fuck!” Riley yelled, at the same time Petrucci shouted “Cut!” from outside the door.

  Somebody flipped on the overhead light to reveal Huff scrambling back to his feet. “Damn it, I’m sorry,” he growled, bending to pick up his device. “I tripped over something.”

  “Your own big fucking feet,” Riley snapped.

  “Shut up, Bryce. Just shut your mouth, okay?” Huff swiped dust off his knees and checked the little black box. “Fuck—I think it broke.”

  “Goddamn it, what’s wrong with you people today?” Larry Duncan strode in, face red and gesticulating wildly. “How come you all have your heads up your asses? Is it the rain? Something in the food? What?”

  “Larry, get the hell out of here,” Kelly Petrucci ordered. She looked as pissed as he did. “I’m the director here, not you. I’ll handle it.”

  “Yeah, and you’re doing a fucking great job,” he said. “Whole fucking production’s a shambles, and we’re barely into day one.”

  “And you’re making it so much better by sticking your big nose in and undermining my authority, right?”

  “Hey, honey, if you can’t handle it, I’ll bring in somebody who can.”

  “Yeah, well, maybe you fucking should, then!” Petrucci shoved past Duncan and stalked out of the room, slamming the door behind her.

  “Come on, guys,” Huff said, “We’re all pros here. Shit happens, we deal with it. Let’s just calm down, and—”

  “Yeah, if you hadn’t tripped over your fucking feet, none of this would have happened,” Riley said. He swiped his hand angrily through his hair. “And my fucking hair is fucked up again. How am I supposed to work with these idiots?”

  Stone, up until now, had been taking in the scene in silence. He’d seen some fragile egos in his day—a certain subset of academics were known for them—but they paled in comparison to this dysfunctional family circus. Before he could stop himself, he snapped: “Perhaps if you didn’t cover your insecurity by acting like a bloody prima donna, you’d get a bit further.”

  “What the hell?” Riley wheeled on him, as red-faced as Duncan now. “Who the hell asked you? You’re nobody. I didn’t even want you along, but I got overruled. Larry might think you’re hot shit, but I know better. So just shut your mouth and stay the hell out of it, before I kick your skinny ass.”

  Stone took a deep breath. Why had he said that? None of this was his problem. He must be frustrated indeed if he’d let that pop out. “You’re right,” he said, raising his hands placatingly. “You’re right. Forgive me. I’ll just stay out of the way until you’ve all got things sorted.”

  “Damn right,” Riley said. “Smart move, asshole. Stay out of the way.”

  “Okay, that’s it!” Duncan yelled. “Everybody shut the hell up and listen to me! Now!”

  His tones of authority seemed to get through, because everyone stopped, grumbling, and turned in his direction.

  “Listen,” he said. “Obviously things aren’t working out right now. It happens. Tempers get frayed, people get frustrated, and everything goes to shit.” He glanced at his watch. “It’s a little after three now. It gets dark at five, and we’re scheduled to start the night shoot at seven. Here’s what I want everybody to do: get outta here. Go back to your rooms, get away from it all, calm down. Have some wine, get laid, smoke a bowl, do whatever it takes to increase your peace. Okay? I want to see you all back here at seven sharp, all calmed down and ready to start filming. Got it?”

  He swept his gaze around the group. One by one, they all nodded—some more grudgingly than others—and began to filter out of the room.

  “Good, good,” he called as they left. “You know I love you guys. You’re the best damn crew I’ve ever worked with. I know we’re gonna be able to make this happen tonight. See you then.”

  Before long, everyone was gone except Stone, Duncan, and a couple nervous assistants who were focused on gathering up the gear and obviously trying not to attract any attention. Stone wanted nothing more than to get the hell out of here and get as far away from Duncan and his merry band of egos as he could, but this might be the only chance he’d get to talk to the producer before tonight.

  “Mr. Duncan—”

  Duncan looked up from where he’d been taking a series of deep breaths with his eyes closed. “Yeah, Stone? What is it?” He sounded tired.

  “First—I apologize for my outburst. That’s quite unlike me, and I shouldn’t have said anything to Mr. Riley.”

  “Nah, it’s okay.” Duncan waved him off. “Bryce can be a pain in the ass sometimes, I know that. Half the time I’m surprised somebody on the crew doesn’t take a swing at him before we finish up. Did you want something else?”

  “I did, yes. Could we speak in private for a moment?”

  “It’ll have to be fast. Losing today’s gonna fuck things up for the rest of the shoot, so I need to make some adjustments.” He started for the door, then called back over his shoulder: “You guys finish gathering up that stuff and get it set up back downstairs for tonight, then go find Rita.” He didn’t wait for them to respond before sweeping out.

  He led Stone downstairs to the parlor where they’d done the interviews. “So what’s up? You haven’t suddenly decided you want to get paid for this, have you? Because that isn’t—”

  “No, no. Nothing like that. But I was doing some poking around yesterday, and I think I might have found another location you’d be interested in for the show. I didn’t find your hidden graveyard, but—”

  “What hidden graveyard?”

  Stone blinked. “The…one you were looking for last night when I encountered you during my walk.”

  “Oh, right. Right. The hidden graveyard. Yeah, okay, you didn’t find it. What did you find, then?”

  “As I said, I was doing a bit of poking around, and I found a concealed, bricked-over entrance to one of the mines supposedly running around the area outside Brunderville. Based on some of my research, I think whatever’s behind there might be connected to the so-called curse.”

  Duncan stared at him. “Wait a sec. You found a hidden entrance to a mine? Where?”

  “In the wine-storage cave at the Shangri-La. Mr.—Someone—” he quickly amended, remembering that Randy Yates had sworn him to secrecy about who’d revealed the entrance to him. “—showed it to me yesterday while giving me a tour of the winery.”

  “What makes you think it’s got anything to do with the curse?” Suddenly, Duncan seemed more interested in Stone’s words.

  Good. Maybe he’d get somewhere with this after all, and the day wouldn’t be a total loss. “As I said, some of my research points at the possibility that one or more miners
might have been responsible for it. If we could take a look down there—at least as far as it’s safe to do so—we might find some evidence.”

  “But you said it’s bricked over?”

  “Yes. But I thought perhaps if you spoke to the people at the winery, you might be able to persuade them to let us temporarily knock down the wall.”

  Just as suddenly as the interest had bloomed on Duncan’s round face, it now departed, replaced by a frown. “Nah, nah. We’re not gonna get into causing any property damage. We got plenty of stuff to shoot here at the house. Besides, we can’t just go tromping around in abandoned mines. The safety guys would have my balls for that. You gotta have permissions, permits—” He shook his head and patted Stone’s arm. “Sorry, Stone. No can do.”

  “But surely we wouldn’t have to venture in very far. And it wouldn’t cost much to—”

  Duncan shook his head more emphatically. “Stone, baby—I said no. It’s a great idea, it really is. Maybe if we ever come back here for a follow-up we might look into it. But it’s not gonna happen this time, so forget about it, okay? Listen, I gotta get goin’. Like I said, I got a lot to do to unfuck the rest of the schedule so we can get done on time. See you at seven.”

  Before Stone could say anything else, he snatched up an umbrella and headed out.

  Damn.

  Now he would have to make some hard decisions. But first he’d need to get another look at that hidden cave.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  Jason and Verity took advantage of the late-morning breakfast buffet at the Obsidian’s coffee shop before heading over to the Oasis. One thing Vegas excelled at was good food, and it was even better when they tried to pay and discovered their meals had been comped courtesy of Nakamura.

  “We shouldn’t let him do this,” Jason said around a mouthful of scrambled eggs. “Fran’s gonna ask questions.”