Bordello Walk

by Melissa Bowersock

  On the walk back to the motel, her phone pinged. She checked the screen. “Hey,” she said, holding it up so Sam could see. “Email back from the author.”

  “That’s great,” he said. “Maybe she’s got something for us.”

  In their room, Lacey downloaded the email on her laptop so they could both read it on the larger screen.

  Dear Lacey and Sam, Francine wrote, I’m happy to give you what information I can. I do keep a database of all the prostitutes I’ve run into in my travels, and I found Michelle “Mai Oui” Schulter. I interviewed a man in Jerome about ten years ago whose grandfather had worked for the undertaker, and the man had heard his grandfather tell many stories about Jerome’s sordid past. Michelle, apparently, had been saving her money and was planning to escape “the life” within just days of the fire. Obviously that never happened. According to the stories, she was well-liked and not particularly suited to the occupation. She had longed for a home and a family but, sadly, it was not to be.

  I will check on the other names and get back to you with what I find.

  Lacey finished reading the email and looked over at Sam.

  “This is great,” she said. “This is exactly what we need, right?”

  Sam nodded. “Yes.” Lacey could see his mind was already working. “So she had her ‘escape’ all planned out, but then was trapped by the fire. She had to either be hemmed in by flames or blocked by falling debris or something. She was literally trapped, just when she’d figured a way out to a normal life.” He stared at Lacey. “That’s her sorrow. That’s what holds her there.”

  Lacey grinned. “So we can release her tomorrow. After a hundred and twenty years, we can set her free.”

  “Absolutely.” This time Sam’s voice held no uncertainty whatsoever.

  ~~~

  NINE

  The drive up to Jerome in the morning seemed to take no time at all. Lacey felt like a pro as she negotiated the hairpin curves without flinching away from the drop-offs.

  Even Sam looked more comfortable.

  She found a parking spot near the Crystal Slipper and noticed Lorraine’s car already there. Inside the building, the lights were on. They let themselves in and found Lorraine in the break room.

  “Good morning,” she said. “I was just making a cup of coffee. Would you like one?”

  Lacey glanced at Sam, but he shook his head. “Maybe later,” she said. “We got some good news last night.”

  “Oh?” Lorraine leaned against the counter, her eyes hopeful.

  Briefly Lacey explained how their search had led to the author, and how Francine had answered their request for help.

  “That’s marvelous,” Lorraine said with a bright smile. “So what happens now?”

  “We’re going to free Michelle,” Lacey said. She glanced at Sam. “Ready whenever you are.”

  He stood at the door for a moment, staring out at the empty building. Coming to some decision Lacey couldn’t hope to fathom, he shrugged out of his peacoat and hung it on one of the chairs at the table. “Okay,” he said.

  Lacey noticed his hands were empty. “Don’t you want a smudge stick?” she asked.

  “No. I think I can work with her better without one.” He angled a look at Lacey. “Fire, you know?”

  Lacey felt like slapping her own forehead. “Good thinking,” she said. She laid her pack on the table and pulled out her phone. Lorraine set her coffee cup down on the counter.

  Sam squared his shoulders, took a breath, and set out for the back corner of the building.

  It was almost as chilly in the building as it was outside, yet Lacey watched Sam carefully for signs of heat. She kept her own jacket zipped, and even pulled her turtleneck higher up beneath her chin. As they approached that back corner, she turned on her video camera.

  Sam slowed as he neared the corner. He stopped about five feet from it, and scanned the small space before him. Lacey wondered how small and cramped the rooms had been. She remembered him saying something about that upstairs.

  “Michelle Schulter,” he began abruptly. “We know who you are, what you endured. We know you wanted out of this life, out of this character of Mai Oui. You yearned for a real home, for a family. The very things you never had growing up.” He paused and strode a few feet to one side.

  “Your plans were laid. You’d saved your money. You saw your goal within reach. And then… the fire.”

  As Lacey watched, she saw Sam’s copper skin develop a thin sheen of sweat. He raised his hands as if he held a smudge stick, perhaps, Lacey thought, performing a psychic cleansing instead of a burning one.

  “I see the fire,” he said. His nostrils flared. “I smell the smoke. You tried to get out, but when you opened the door, the flames were there, blocking you, coming for you. You closed the door and hid in the corner, hoping against hope the fire would pass you by.

  “It did not.”

  He walked a slow circle in the small space.

  “You’ve been trapped here for over a hundred years,” he continued. “Trapped in a life you never wanted for years before that. It’s time to let go, Michelle. It’s time to move on, move forward into a new existence of your own choosing. A life that fuels you, that nourishes your soul. Let go of this pain, this frustration, this paralysis. Let go, Michelle, and move on.”

  Sam stood quietly for a moment, then slowly lowered his hands. He passed the back of one arm across his forehead, wiping the slick of sweat away. When he turned around, Lacey could see his skin was dry. She clicked off the camera.

  Lorraine stepped forward with a tall glass of ice water. Lacey hadn’t even heard her go back to the break room and return, but she was grateful for the woman’s thoughtfulness.

  “Thank you,” Sam said, taking the glass. He downed half of it, then held the cool side to his cheek.

  “She’s gone?” Lorraine asked.

  Sam nodded.

  “And the fire with her?” Lacey assumed.

  “Yes.” He sipped more water. “One down and two to go,” he said. “The only thing is, I don’t think you’ll notice much of a change.”

  Lorraine angled a questioning look at him.

  “She wasn’t the one accosting customers,” he explained. “I think that’s the one from upstairs.”

  He finished the water and Lorraine took the glass back to the break room. As they waited for her return, both Sam and Lacey let their gazes drift up the stairs to the second floor.

  She stepped closer. “You’re doing okay?” she asked softly.

  He pulled in a breath and let it out slowly. “Yeah. Okay enough. I want to walk both of the other two, see if I can get more from them.”

  She nodded, concerned but not anxious. Sam knew his limits. He wouldn’t push himself too far… she hoped.

  When Lorraine returned, they all mounted the stairs to the upper level.

  “If you don’t mind my asking,” she said, “how could Michelle have remained tied here after the entire building burned down? There was nothing left of the original structure.”

  “She wasn’t tied to the building itself,” Sam explained. “Not to the walls or the floor, but to the space. I’m guessing this current building was set on the same footprint as the earlier one. Do you know?”

  “Yes, I believe so.” She assimilated that. “So, if the Grand Hotel, which used to be the hospital, was torn down and something else was built there, it would still be haunted?”

  “Most likely,” Sam said. He smiled grimly. “Lacey and I have dealt with ghosts that were hundreds of years old. The physical surroundings may change, but the spirits stay the same.”

  At the top of the stairs, Sam walked toward the opposite back corner. Lacey noticed a sag to his shoulders, as if he carried a heavy weight there. They needed to hurry this along.

  “I’m ready whenever you are,” she said.

  Sam nodded, still approaching the area. When he stopped, he faced the corner, then angled his body to the left slightly. He closed his eyes and
breathed deeply, his hands limp at his side. Lacey trained her camera on him.

  “Hey!” He barked out the word and flinched, jumping a half step backward. “Stop that!”

  Lacey peered at the screen, then up at Sam himself, trying to see what was attacking him. There was nothing there.

  “Would you—Hey! That’s not funny.” He moved back a few more steps and Lacey backed as well, giving him room.

  “I want to help you,” Sam said to the empty air. “Who are you? What’s your name?”

  Lacey held her breath, looking all around for a wisp of haze, a cloud of mist. Nothing. But she thought she heard… giggling?

  Suddenly Sam went down on one knee. He crossed his arms on his thigh, not taut with anger but loosely, relaxed. He leaned forward, giving all his attention to the empty space before him.

  “Tell me who you are,” he said. “Let me see you.”

  Lacey bit her lip and shifted her feet slightly. This could take a while. She’d seldom seen Sam try to enter into a conversation with a—

  “Ow!” She almost dropped her phone as she flinched away from the sting of someone pulling her hair. She turned a quick 360 as she massaged her scalp, but Lorraine was six feet away.

  “What’d she do?” Sam asked.

  “She pulled my hair! Hey!” Now Lacey jumped the other way. “She pinched my ear. What the hell…?”

  “Okay.” Sam got back to his feet. “Come on. She’s too busy playing games to be helpful. Let’s go downstairs.”

  Lacey clicked off her camera and hurried toward the stairs. At the top landing, she focused deliberately on her grip on the handrail and the placement of her feet on the stairs. She didn’t want the prankster ghost to get any ideas about “playing” on the stairs.

  They went back to the break room.

  “What the heck was that all about?” Lacey asked. She rubbed the spot on her scalp that still smarted with the itchy sting.

  “I think she’s jealous of you,” Sam said.

  “Jealous? Why?”

  He smiled grimly. “I think she sees you as competition. Competition for me… a possible customer.”

  “Customer,” Lacey muttered. Then she thought back. “When she first touched you, was she…?”

  “She was trying to entice me,” he said, “in a very bold way.” He looked to Lorraine. “You said she did that once to a customer in your store?”

  Lorraine nodded. “At least one. She gets very… personal.”

  “Personal,” Sam snorted. “That’s one way to say it. I can see why she created havoc in your store. I think most men wouldn’t turn down that sort of attention, but when it comes out of nowhere, from a ghostly hand, that’s… disturbing.”

  “I’ll say,” Lacey said, giving her scalp a last rub. “She’s very physical.”

  “I’ve heard that catfights were pretty common in the old days,” Lorraine said. “Women fighting over the men, breaking up the places, even pulling knives or guns on each other.”

  The color drained out of Lacey’s already pale face. She turned worried eyes to Sam.

  “I don’t think she’s dangerous,” he said. “She was mostly playing.”

  “Playing,” Lacey repeated sourly. “I can do without those kinds of games.” She had another thought. “Why were you down on your knee? It looked like you were talking to a child.”

  “She’s very short,” He said. “Tiny, actually. I’d say under five feet. I was hoping if I got down to her level—literally—she’d open up to me a little more. But she was only interested in her little games.”

  “Well, she certainly seemed to be enjoying herself,” Lacey grumbled.

  “She was. She enjoyed the life. I felt a … a freedom about her. Like it was a relief to drop all her inhibitions, all the social restraints. She felt vastly different than Michelle. Michelle just wanted out of the life. This woman gloried in it.”

  Lacey turned to Lorraine. “I guess there were all kinds, huh?”

  “Oh, sure,” Lorraine said. “There were probably as many reasons for turning to prostitution as there were prostitutes. And it seemed to be a better fit for some than for others.” She shrugged. “Like any occupation.”

  Lacey nodded. To Sam, she said, “But this is still the same one that got shot in the head?”

  “Yeah. Apparently someone else wasn’t as happy about her occupation as she was.”

  “Also pretty common,” Lorraine said. “Even selling sex in a no-frills, hard cash environment, they could still get tangled up in emotions. There were rivalries, love triangles, plenty of relationships forged and broken. I actually don’t know how you keep emotions out of such an intimate business.”

  “Yeah, I hear that,” Lacey said. She glanced at Sam. “So no real help there?”

  “No. We might as well walk the last one. Maybe we’ll have more luck there.”

  Sam pulled his peacoat off the chair and shrugged into it. Lorraine grabbed her coat, as well, and the three of them made their way to the front door.

  “Should I leave it open?” Lorraine asked, keys in hand. “In case you need a hot drink after?”

  Sam thought for a moment, then shook his head. “We’ll leave as soon as I’m done. We can crank up the heater in the car if we need to.”

  As Lorraine locked the door, Lacey noticed Sam looking up the hill at the Grand Hotel. He hunched his shoulders, hiking the collar of his coat up around his ears. Yes, they needed to leave as soon as possible.

  He walked slowly toward the outside corner of the building. Stopping just a couple feet away, he jammed his hands into his coat pockets and stared down at the ground. Lacey started her camera.

  “Anger at being shut out,” he said abruptly. “Anger at being caught. It’s defensive. She knew she was cheating. Just didn’t think it would come to this.”

  He hunkered down and held a hand out toward the wall. “Didn’t think they would leave her out all night. Didn’t think it would get that cold. She’s extremely… stubborn. Hard-headed. Railing against the madam, against God. She had a plan. Didn’t think anyone could interfere. Would interfere.” He stood up again. “She was wrong.”

  He turned away. Lacey saw him shove his hand back into his pocket, and she noted the tight set of his jaw, the hunch of his shoulders. She clicked off her camera and tossed it in her pack, pulling her keys out at the same time.

  “Okay, Lorraine,” she said. “We’re going back down the hill. Thanks for opening up for us.”

  Lorraine’s brow was creased. “Is he all right?”

  “He will be,” Lacey said. “We’re making progress, don’t worry. We’ll call you.”

  ~~~

  TEN

  Sam was already in the car when Lacey climbed in and fired it up. She pushed the control for heat all the way over to max, then cranked up the fan. The air that came out of the vent was cool, but it would warm quickly.

  As she pulled away from the curb, her gaze drifted to the Episcopal Church on the next street up—the archives. She’d totally forgotten to bring the book back for Zane, but at this point, she wouldn’t take the time for it anyway.

  Sam put both hands over a vent to warm them. Lacey noticed a slight shiver there. She willed the heater to work fast.

  “I’ll have to check the video from the first walk,” she said, “but I think you got more this time. Did you feel that?” She asked the question as much to divert Sam’s attention from his cold state as to get validation for her impression.

  “I think so,” he said. “At least I felt like I had a clearer picture of her. She’s dark-haired and, man, is she stubborn. She could put you to shame.”

  “What?” Lacey wanted to cut a glance over at Sam, but the hairpin curves demanded her full attention. “I’m not stubborn.”

  “Yeah, right,” Sam snorted. “And I’m not Navajo.” He pulled his hands from the vent and rubbed them together. “But I kept getting a picture of chocolate chips in my head. I can’t figure that out.”

  “Cho
colate chips? What would that mean?”

  “I don’t know. I sure wouldn’t call her sweet. Semi-sweet, maybe.”

  Lacey almost stomped on the brakes, but caught herself. “Cookies! Chocolate chip cookies!” She glanced quickly around the front seat of the car, but then remembered she’d slung her pack into the back seat. “Remember the list of names?” she asked. “Cookie was one of them. Grab my pack and find my notebook. They’re all written in there.”

  Sam reached back and pulled her pack into his lap, then dug out the notebook. He leafed through the pages until he found the list.

  “Queenie, Shorty, Moonlight—Cookie!” His voice was jubilant. “And guess what?”

  “What?” She could hear his grin, but couldn’t look over.

  “Remember what I said about the woman upstairs? Tiny, under five feet tall?”

  “Shorty!” Lacey shouted.

  “Yup. I’m sure of it.” Sam found a pen in the console of the car and put a star next to those two names. “So we’ve got Shorty Stewart and Cookie Brooks up there.” He crossed off Moonlight and Queenie. “And we know how they died, but not what led up to it.”

  “You said something about Cookie cheating,” Lacey remembered. “Cheating… at cards? Gambling? I don’t recall Lorraine saying they had gambling there.”

  “I don’t either,” Sam said. “It doesn’t feel like that. It feels… more covert. Not something that was going on right under everyone’s noses. More on the sly.”

  “And Shorty,” she said. “Was the man who shot her angry at something she did or didn’t do? Jealous of her with another customer?” Lacey remembered the sting of Shorty pulling her hair, the vicious pinch of her ear. “I don’t think I’d want her mad at me.”

  “She’s a pistol, all right,” Sam said with a chuckle. “A little hellcat.”

  He’d barely gotten the words out when he was assailed by a coughing fit. Luckily they were already down on the flat part of the road so her startle at the sudden explosion didn’t send her off the road. Sam coughed roughly, deep in his throat. It sounded painful. As soon as he was able to clear his throat, he began yanking his coat off.