The Haunting of Riley Watson

by Alexandria Clarke

  He nodded politely. “Some other time then. Perhaps you can make it over to White Oak? I’ll treat you both to lunch and a day at the spa. We have amenities to die for. Our massage therapists are all trained—”

  “Porter!”

  Nick leaned on his cane, his eyes fixed to a spot over my shoulder. “Ah. It appears we’ve been spotted. Good evening, Mr. Watson.”

  Oliver stormed in, fuming, from the hallway to the old wing. He stomped across the lobby and marched right up to Nick. Each of the men’s visages reflected their current luck in the ski lodge business. Where Nick was stately, poised, and polite like a member of the royal family, Oliver was ragged, balding, and red-faced like a member of the royal family’s staff. His shirt was wrinkled and a lace pattern was printed across his cheek as if he’d just woken up from a nap.

  “Good evening?” Oliver demanded. “That’s all you have to say to me? How dare you set foot in my resort after that stunt you pulled!”

  “Mr. Watson, need I remind you that you were the one who attempted to sue me over a perfectly legal transaction,” Nick said, calm and steady. “Had you not disregarded my letters, you might have known that I was well within my bounds to pull the permits on the mountain. It turns out that land was never in King and Queens’s possession in the first place.”

  “You slimy son of a gun,” Oliver growled. “Look at you with your hair products and perfectly tweezed eyebrows. Permits and transactions? Ha! I want you out of my hotel. Now!”

  “I was quite hoping we could sit down to a decent dinner,” Nick said, completely disregarding Oliver’s rejection. “I asked an employee of mine to bring a bottle of scotch if all goes well. It’s quite fine. Irish—”

  “I don’t want your damned scotch. We have perfectly good scotch here.”

  Nick clicked his tongue. “Perfectly good. That’s a no to dinner then as well?”

  “That’s a hell no,” Oliver said. “Get out.”

  “Your concierge has my coat.”

  Oliver glared at Trey, who sprinted into the coat room like the Road Runner with Wile E. Coyote on his tail. When he emerged, he helped Nick into the luscious piece of outerwear and patted him on his broad shoulders.

  “There you go, Mr. Porter,” Trey said, beaming.

  “Thank you, son.”

  “Out,” barked Oliver, and Trey ran for the front desk.

  Nick shook his sleeves so that the suit sat flush beneath his coat. “I guess I’ll be on my way then. Ladies” —he lifted his cane as if in a toast to us— “my offer remains valid. Feel free to drop by White Oak whenever you like. Just tell the front desk you’re friends of Nick Porter, and they’ll get you squared away.”

  “Stop poaching my guests,” said Oliver. “They don’t want to go to White Oak, you damned snake.”

  Nick raised the cane in defeat. “My apologies. Crimson Basin is so beautiful that my only wish is to deliver the best experience possible to those who come to visit it. We’ll talk soon, Oliver? Oh, my—”

  As he pulled open the door, a mound of snow fell into the lobby. In the twenty minutes since Nick had arrived, the storm had kicked it up a notch. The wind howled and the snow came down in a solid white sheet. Jazmin’s Land Rover was already covered in a miniature mountain of the stuff.

  “Well?” Oliver demanded. “What are you waiting for? Off you go.”

  “Oliver,” I said. “You can’t possibly make him walk back in that.”

  “He walked here, didn’t he?”

  Nick prodded the snow bank outside the door with his cane, which sank at least two feet deep. “Not to worry, Miss Star. I can make it back just fine. I do appreciate your concern though.”

  He stepped beyond the doorway and immediately slipped. Jazmin caught his arm and helped him upright. She gave Oliver a look.

  “Mr. Watson,” she said like a school teacher to a kindergartener. “I understand that you and Mr. Porter have disagreed, but this is a matter of human decency. I, for one, won’t stand by and watch as you make a man with a disability walk through this dangerous of a storm.”

  Oliver tossed up his hands. “Fine! Have a drink. Stay the night. But Porter—” He shook a finger at Nick. “I’m watching you.”

  9

  Oliver disappeared for the rest of the evening before we had a chance to ask him about the photo of Stella and Odette, so we returned the leather-bound book to the suite upstairs. With a couple more people at King and Queens—Jazmin and Nick—the resort was less disturbingly vacant. As a matter of fact, as Jazmin and I arrived at the Eagle’s View for a nightcap and to watch the storm rage, I almost felt normal. With Stella’s photo locked in a drawer, an AWOL Riley, and no neck prickling, it was about time for a relaxing evening. When we arrived, Daniel was already—or still—seated at the bar.

  “Pick a table,” I told Jazmin. “I’ll be right back.”

  As she wandered toward our seats from earlier, I straddled the stool at the bar next to Daniel’s. He lifted his glass by way of greeting.

  “Sorry for being rude earlier,” he said. “I’m sure your friend is very nice.”

  “I didn’t come over here to scold you.” I sniffed the clear liquid in his glass. It was water. He cocked an eyebrow. “Just checking. You haven’t been here all afternoon, have you?”

  “No, I also took a nap.”

  “You seemed upset.”

  Daniel speared an olive with a plastic cocktail sword from the bartender’s stash and popped it in his mouth. “Are you my therapist now, Madame Lucia?”

  “And that’s my cue to leave.”

  “Wait!” He spun around to catch my wrist then let go just as quickly. “I’m sorry, okay? That was rude, and I shouldn’t have said it.”

  I crossed my arms. “No, you shouldn’t have. I came over here to see if there was anything I could do to help you, and you snapped at me.”

  He kneaded his forehead like it was a piece of dough he could work the kinks out of. “I’ve argued with my wife—ex-wife—daily for fifteen years. She constantly puts me on edge, and that affects the way I speak to other people. It’s a hard habit to break when you don’t realize you’re doing it.”

  “What did she do that was so horrible?” I asked.

  “Nothing,” he said. “She’s not a bad person, and neither am I. We got married too young and tried to make it work for too long. Getting a divorce was the best thing that ever happened to us, but now there’s all this other stuff that comes with it. Lawyers, and money issues, and custody battles. That’s what I’ve been dealing with today. My daughter is around Riley’s age, and I love her to bits, but it’s sure as hell looking like I’m not going to get to see her whenever I want to.”

  “Her mom won’t let you?”

  “Her mom is smart,” Daniel admitted. “And I’m an alcoholic. It doesn’t matter how many years you’ve been sober and in recovery. The label never goes away, and it shouldn’t. You think I sit at this bar every night because I’m confident in my abilities to resist ordering? No, I sit here because all I want is to reach over and grab the biggest bottle of booze from the top shelf and guzzle it like a lost traveler in the desert.”

  “But you haven’t,” I reminded him.

  “Not yet.”

  I took his hand. His skin was dry and rough. Like most men, he was clueless to the importance of moisturizer in warm weather. He looked down at our conjoined fingers. It was a light hold, not tight or desperate. He flexed involuntarily, as if he’d forgotten what it was like to receive such a simple form of affection.

  “Come sit with us,” I said.

  “No, no.” He shook his head. “I’m sure you and your friend have plenty to catch up on. You don’t need me hanging around and dragging the mood down.”

  I looped my arm around his and pulled him off the stool. “You won’t be dragging the mood down unless you intentionally try to drag the mood down. Besides, Jazmin is like a walking beam of sunshine. You couldn’t bring her down if you tried.” I piloted him across
the room to where Jazmin waited at our table. “Jazmin, Daniel. Daniel, Jazmin. Should we order something chocolate for all of us to share?”

  Daniel politely shook Jazmin’s hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”

  “You as well.” She pushed out the chair across from hers. “Take a seat. Do you like cheesecake?”

  “I love cheesecake.”

  The storm wore on as the three of us shared a trio of cheesecakes. Daniel and Jazmin socialized well together, as if his natural abruptness and her organic sense of peace balanced each other out. As we powered through the last piece of cheesecake, Nick Porter stepped into the lounge, dressed head to toe in King and Queens swag from the gift shop.

  “You’re both here,” he exclaimed at me and Jazmine. He saluted Daniel. “And Detective Hawkins, of course. I’m sorry for all the trouble.”

  Daniel, whose mood had picked up significantly over coffee and dessert, waved off his apology. “It’s all in my job description. And you can call me Daniel.”

  “Then you may call me Nick.”

  “You two already know each other?” Jazmin asked.

  “Yes, I’m afraid Daniel has had the immense pleasure of mediating an argument or two between Mr. Watson and myself,” Nick said.

  Daniel drew out the last empty chair and patted it. “Have a seat, Nick. We’re all here to take a load off. You might as well join us.”

  Nick hesitated. “If the ladies don’t object?”

  “Not at all,” I said at the same time Jazmin shook her head. As Nick beamed and took the offered chair, I added, “Nice sweatshirt.”

  “Do you like it?” He flapped the front of the maroon garment. The King and Queens’s triple crown logo was printed across the chest in bright gold. “I find it quite flattering. The matching sweatpants too. And so comfortable! Shall we order drinks? It’s on me.”

  “Uh—” Daniel said.

  “I’m fine with my decaf,” I said, pouring myself another cup from the carafe. “What about you, Jazmin?”

  “Just herbal tea for me.”

  “Well, I certainly can’t drink alone,” Nick said with a wistful sigh. “I suppose it’s coffee for me too.”

  I poured him a cup.

  “Thank you. So—” He cleared his throat as he added cream to his cup. “Madame Lucia, is it?’

  I jostled the carafe, accidentally spilling coffee across the white linen tablecloth. “Oh, no. How did you hear about that?”

  Nick chuckled into his mug. “White Oak has many young employees and guests obsessed with YouTube. I believe your latest video circulated through the slopes and the break rooms at least a hundred times.”

  I groaned and hid my reddening face behind my hands. I wasn’t used to meeting so many people who knew about the Parlour, but everyone in the Crimson Basin seemed adamantly attached to it. If Nick Porter—king of White Oak—knew about me, Madame Lucia was officially an Internet sensation. Why couldn’t I take that as a compliment?

  Jazmin rubbed soothing circles into my sweater. “Lucia’s a little shy about the exposure she’s been getting lately.”

  “Why?” Nick said. “You should be proud! It was your best episode yet.”

  “Oh, yeah. It’s every psychic’s dream to have her secrets doused all over the web,” I said.

  He warmed his long fingers around his mug. “Well, it’s not like anyone ever believed it was real. Fishing wire occasionally catches the light. It’s funnier when everyone thinks you’re in on the gag, especially with the cynical sense of humor brewing in the younger generations. You’re a hit, Madame Lucia. When can we expect your next upload?”

  “Never,” I muttered into the tablecloth.

  “Actually, she’s editing one on King and Queens right now,” Jazmin announced. “That’s why we’re here.”

  “Visiting haunted places now?” Nick asked. “What an excellent way to kick off a new segment of your web series. I imagine you’ve done all you can in that little apartment of yours, exhausted all the stories. And this place is perfect for a feature.”

  “Back up,” I said. “Did you just say that King and Queens is haunted?”

  Nick casually stole Daniel’s spoon and collected the remaining cheesecake crumbs. “In the sense that this resort has quite a dark history. In a place where so many have perished, a feeling lingers. Perhaps not ghosts or spirits, but an energy.”

  Daniel, who had been rubbing his bloated stomach, straightened up in his chair. “What kind of dark history are we talking about here?”

  “The fire, of course.”

  Daniel and I exchanged a glance. The infamous King and Queens fire of 1988 that killed forty-nine people. What did Nick Porter know about it? He looked around at all of us. Jazmin seemed mildly interested, but Daniel and I were perched on the table, leaning in toward the hotel owner as if he had candy to share.

  “What about the fire?” I asked.

  “Well, it was the beginning of the end for King and Queens,” Nick said. “Once they rebuilt, people were afraid to stay here. Business never picked up as well as it should have, but I suppose that’s what happens when so many people burned to death in an establishment.”

  “If King and Queens is so doomed, why would you want to buy it from Oliver?” I said. “Wouldn’t you be taking on that burden yourself?”

  “I have intentions to renovate and rebrand,” he replied. “This building is long overdue for an upgrade. For God’s sake, look at this lounge. It’s garish.”

  “I think it has character,” Jazmin said, patting the red leather backing of her chair. “You don’t see places around like this anymore.”

  “That’s because they’re outdated,” Nick said. “And if you do see them, it’s because they’ve been successfully themed to look that way. It should be an experience to visit a place like King and Queens, and I intend to make it one.”

  I rattled my spoon against my coffee cup. “Can we get back to the resort’s supposed dark history? What do we know about the people who died here?”

  “I’m afraid I don’t know much,” Nick said. “If you’re interested in the resort’s history for the purpose of your web series, I suggest you interview Oliver. After all, he was there.”

  I dropped the spoon. “What do you mean he was there?”

  “He was the only member of the Watson family to make it out of the fire,” Nick replied. “His father, mother, and sister all perished. It’s a terrible story. I believe Oliver was raised by a distant relative. King and Queens was managed by a board of trustees until he was old enough to take it under his wing.”

  “Poor Oliver,” Jazmin said. “No wonder he’s so frazzled all the time. It must be stressful to keep up the family legacy when you’re the last one left.”

  Nick’s left hand spasmed without warning, and he knocked his cane, which had been leaning against his chair, off balance. The ornate handle connected with Jazmin’s mug and shattered it, spraying hot tea across the table. Jazmin wrenched herself out of the way, hissing as a few scalding drops landed on her skin.

  “I’m so sorry!” Nick said, blotting the mess with a cloth napkin. He offered Jazmin a fresh one. “It’s this damn condition I have. My muscles don’t always do what I want them to. Please forgive me?”

  Jazmin wiped off her arms. Angry red spots appeared where the tea had landed. “It was an accident, Nick. Don’t worry about it.”

  Daniel folded the tablecloth to trap the rest of the tea. “Why don’t you three switch tables? I’ll take care of the mess.”

  Jazmin, Nick, and I moved to a booth right below the mezzanine as Daniel carried the tea-soaked tablecloth to the kitchen. Together, he and Karli cleared the cheesecake plates and broken glass then brought us a fresh carafe of coffee and new mugs.

  “Can I get you all anything else?” Karli asked, drying her hands on her black apron.

  “I think we’re good,” I said. “Thanks, Karli.”

  Nick patted Karli’s arm. “It’s late, young lady. Isn’t there a bartender wh
o should relieve you for the late shift?”

  “I work all the shifts,” Karli said. “I need the money. Besides, there’s no point in trying to go home in this storm. I’ll freeze to death before I make it to the car.”

  “You have a place to stay here?” I asked.

  “Yeah, me and a few other employees split the cost of a room every year,” she said. “Most of us work here seasonally, so we need someplace to stay when we do.”

  “Doesn’t Mr. Watson provide room and board?” Nick said.

  Karli scoffed. “Ha. Yeah, right. If you’re all set, I’m going to close up the bar and turn in for the night. Don’t worry about the dishes. I’ll get them in the morning.”

  It was the latest I’d stayed up at King and Queens, barring the night with Riley on the mountain. I poured myself some of Jazmin’s herbal tea instead of another coffee. Karli switched off the lights behind the bar so the lamps on each table glowed like travelers’ lanterns on a mysterious night. The shadows of falling snow made the lounge a kaleidoscope. I wanted to sleep in this very booth with my three living companions, but all I could do was put off the inevitable moment of returning to the suite upstairs.

  “What about Thelma?” I asked Nick. I dropped a cube of sugar into my tea then added another to hear the satisfying plop again. It was too sweet. “You mentioned her by name earlier. Did the two of you know each other?”

  “We were casually acquainted,” Nick said. “I too enjoy morning ski runs, and we occasionally bumped into each other on the mountain.”

  “Did you ever ski together?” Daniel asked.

  Nick patted his bad leg. “No, this sucker keeps me from most of the intermediate and advanced runs, and Thelma was a professional. Why do you ask?”

  “I was wondering if you ever rode the King and Queens lift,” Daniel said. “If you ever noticed anything wrong with it.”

  “I’ve never ridden it, but it’s quite loud compared to ours,” Nick commented. “One might think such noisy machinery requires maintenance before allowing anyone to board it. I, for one, would never let a soul onto my chair lift if it made that kind of ruckus. It’s shocking how long Oliver left it considering how often his wife and daughter use it.”