by Laura Durham
“That’s your room?” I asked, ignoring her question.
Brianna took a step in our direction. “Yes. Is that yours?” She pointed to the doors we stood huddled around.
“Annabelle has the suite on the end,” Kate said, waving vaguely toward the open French doors. “We were taking a walk down the porch.”
Brianna flinched at the word suite but recovered her haughty expression. “A walk?”
“Clearly we’d just started when you threw open your doors and startled us,” Kate said.
I had to admire the vigor with which she stuck with her story. She was such a convincing liar, I almost believed her.
“Sorry,” Brianna said, clearly insincere.
“Well, that was probably enough of a walk.” Richard glanced at the Cartier watch he always wore. “We have spa appointments to keep, and I don’t want to wear out Hermès. He has very short legs.”
Kate gave Brianna the same finger wave she’d given us that morning. “Ta-ta for now.”
We hurried back into my room, Hermès bringing up the rear, and pulled the glass doors closed behind us. The only consolation I had in losing my card key was that the front desk had given me two to start with.
“I heard them giggling in the hall then they went into a nearby room,” Fern said, his sunglasses off and his hand pressed against his heart. “I tried to warn you in case they came outside.”
“Do you think Brianna knew what we were doing?” Kate asked.
I shook my head. “Even if she thinks we were acting odd, she didn’t see a thing.”
“Thank heavens for that,” Richard said. “But that was too close for comfort.”
I sank down on the edge of the bed. “Does anyone else think it’s strange that Brianna and Kerry have a room on the other side of the empty room where all the strange noises were coming from?”
“That does mean that if you heard noises last night, they probably did, as well,” Richard said. “Which is not good news for the management hoping to keep the rumors of poltergeists under wraps.”
“Exactly,” I said. “Which tells me that somebody assigned these rooms on purpose so that the ghost rumors would get out. And fast.”
Kate made a face. “It also means you’re only one room away from Botox Barbie.”
I groaned. “You’re right. That may be worse than a devious plot or a poltergeist.”
Chapter 10
“Where did you get those cucumber slices?” I stared down at Richard as he lay in an oversized celadon chair with his head back and two green discs covering his eyes. He wore a white terrycloth robe and had a cream-colored chenille throw draped across his feet.
He didn’t sit up or take the cucumber slices off his eyes to look at me. “Shhhhh. This is supposed to be the spa’s relaxation lounge. That means no talking, Annabelle.” He waved a hand vaguely to his right. “The cucumber slices were over at the flavored-water station.”
“The ones floating in the pitchers? Those are supposed to flavor the water, not reduce your eye bags,” I whispered, taking the chair next to him and pulling a throw over to cover my feet.
A cucumber slice slipped off his eye, and he gave me a one-eyed glare before replacing it. “I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that or that you implied I have bags under my eyes.”
We’d staked out the center of the airy lounge where all the celadon green chairs were chaise lounges and came with extra cushions and soft throws. A fireplace was lit at the far end of the room, and French doors in the middle led outside to a terrace. The faint scent of eucalyptus hung in the air while soft piano music played in the background. I felt more relaxed just being in the relaxation lounge.
“I’m a human noodle,” Fern said as he staggered into the lounge from the spa treatment area. The dark hair that he usually wore pulled tightly into a ponytail hung loose around his face.
I sniffed as he walked past me and sank into a chair. “Well, you smell like maple syrup.”
He swung his slippered feet onto his chair. “I got the sugar maple glow treatment, so they scrubbed me with maple sugar then slathered me with maple butter.” He lifted his arm to his nose. “I do smell delicious. Is anyone else suddenly hungry for pancakes?”
A woman opened the door to the treatment area. “Richard Gerard?”
Richard sat up, the cucumbers sliding from his face and plopping in his lap. He dropped the cucumbers on the side table next to his chair as he stood. “Time for my thermal mud wrap.”
Richard passed by Kate as he walked to the spa treatment rooms. She raised a glass of lemon-infused water at him and took his chair next to me.
“What took you so long?” I asked.
“I couldn’t bring myself to get out of the hot tub.”
I noticed that her face was flushed pink and wisps of blond hair curled at her temples. “Don’t you mean the Bedford baths?”
“Right.” She smiled and let her head flop back against the chair. “Whatever they want to call it, count me a fan.”
“Did you try the scrub?” a voice asked from the fireplace area.
Kate and I both twisted in our chairs and saw Kerry smiling at us from one of the tufted white chairs. She had her dark shoulder-length hair pulled back with a white terrycloth headband. I scanned the rest of the room but didn’t see Brianna.
“There’s a scrub?” Kate asked.
Kerry nodded. “In the shower. It’s really good.”
Kate made to stand like she was headed back to try the shower scrub, but I pulled her back down.
“Is Brianna here with you?” I asked the blogger. I knew I was being direct, but I really didn’t want my spa experience ruined by another run-in with our nemesis.
“She’s getting a facial,” Kerry said. “Do you mind if I join you?”
Kate’s eyes flicked to mine, but I couldn’t bring myself to be outwardly rude, so I sighed and gestured to the lounge chair next to Fern. “Of course not.”
Kerry jumped up and hurried over to us, bringing her own chenille throw with her. She sat down and tucked her feet up under her legs. “I think we may have gotten off on the wrong foot when we met before. I know I’m really new, but I’ve heard a lot of great things about Wedding Belles.”
“Not from Brianna, I’m sure,” Kate said.
Kerry blushed, and her eyes fell to her lap. I gave Kate a look; she shrugged and gave me an innocent look back.
“Don’t worry about all the gossip,” I said. “Most people in the wedding industry are pretty friendly, and most of us get along with each other.”
Kerry smiled. “Thanks.”
I readjusted the blanket around my feet. “This isn’t your first visit to Bedford, is it?”
“I’ve been before.”
I waited for her to elaborate, but she didn’t. “Is it better the second time when you know the lay of the land?”
She shrugged. “At first I was disappointed about our room assignment. I called ahead to request room 217, but they didn’t honor the request.”
“What’s in 217?” Kate asked.
“According to the staff I talked to on my last visit, a gentleman ghost.”
Fern’s eyes popped open. “In room 217?”
Kerry seemed pleased to have an interested audience. “The housekeeping staff all know about him. He’s harmless and pretty friendly.”
“So why did you post about the hotel being haunted by poltergeists?” I asked.
Kerry’s eyes darted around the room. “I have it on good authority that there are some new spirits in the hotel who aren’t so cheerful.”
“On whose authority?” I asked. It sounded like she hadn’t had any personal experience with the so-called evil spirits she reported on and was going off the claims of a third party.
She pressed her lips together. “I can’t say. But my source is reliable.”
I couldn’t help feeling a flash of irritation that this girl would put people’s jobs in jeopardy by posting something about which she had no actual
evidence.
“But you haven’t encountered any ghosts yourself?” I asked.
“Not until last night. Brianna and I heard all sorts of moaning coming from the room next to us, but when we asked, we found out that the room is unoccupied.”
“You don’t say?” I muttered.
“You must have heard the noises if you’re on the other side of the room.” Kerry leaned over and lowered her voice. “According to my source, the room isn’t closed for repairs like the hotel is claiming; it’s closed because it’s haunted.”
“You don’t say?” Kate raised an eyebrow at me.
“Get ready for two new roommates tonight.” Fern pointed at himself and Kate. “We wouldn’t miss this for the world.”
I let my eyes close and slumped down in my chair. “Hooray.”
Chapter 11
“Did you enjoy your spa treatments?” Stuart asked as he took a bar stool next to mine in the Frontier Tavern.
“My massage was heavenly,” I said, leaning back against the rustic slat-backed stool and letting my long hair hang down my back. I’d actually blown out my hair after the spa and curled the ends under with a curling iron, something I rarely bothered to do.
Kate leaned across me and held out her arm. “Take a whiff. I still smell like peppermint and lavender.”
“Where is the rest of your crew?” Stuart asked after politely sniffing Kate’s arm.
I craned my neck around to take in the restaurant. Dark wood and brown leather wing-back chairs mixed with rustic cane chairs gave the casual dining room a more relaxed feel than the rest of the resort. Spread out on three levels, the restaurant was separated by short staircases and white wooden railings that ran the length of the room with yellow patterned wallpaper adding the only color to the masculine design. Even though it was still early in the evening, savory smells filled the air and made my stomach growl. Aside from some fresh fruit and nuts in the spa, I hadn’t eaten since breakfast. I was looking forward to an early dinner and, I hoped, an early bedtime.
“They must be on their way,” I said, taking a sip from my glass of crisp Sauvignon Blanc. “So is life in Bedford Springs always this tranquil?”
Stuart sighed. “Always. Don’t get me wrong, it’s a gorgeous resort but the town can be a bit sleepy.”
I looked at Stuart. He was probably a few years younger than me so I could imagine that a small, mountain town wouldn’t be exciting for a twenty-something. “But being catering director is a big deal.”
“It is.” He nodded. “And it’s been an amazing experience, but I have my heart set on working in New York or DC.”
“That would be a big change,” Kate said.
Stuart leaned over. “To be honest, I’m ready for a big change. I went through a bad break-up a month ago, so a change of scenery would be wonderful.”
I put a hand on his arm. “I’ll keep my ears open for any openings in DC.”
Kate bobbed her head up and down. “Me, too.”
Stuart squeezed both of our hands. “You two are the best.”
“Do you mind if I ask you something random?” I said, taking a sip of wine.
Stuart ordered a glass of wine for himself and loosened his blue necktie. “Fire away.”
I swiveled my chair to face him. “Who assigned our rooms?”
He gave me a puzzled look. “That’s usually done by our front desk. I requested that your rooms be on the same floor, and I flagged you for a suite upgrade since you’re the boss lady.”
Kate took a swig of her red wine. “You know she’s going to make us call her that now.”
I ignored Kate. “So the actual room numbers weren’t assigned ahead of time?”
Stuart shook his head. “Not by me. The front desk likes some leeway to shift things around if guests arrive early or if the housekeeping staff runs behind.”
“But could someone have assigned us to specific rooms without you knowing?” I asked, tugging at one of my black boots as it slipped down my calf.
Stuart tapped his fingers on the wooden bar. “To be honest, anyone with access to the reservation system could do it, but I don’t see why they would.”
“So it’s just a wild coincidence that I’m on one side of a haunted room and Brianna and Kerry are on the other?”
Stuart’s chin dropped. “Haunted room? You mean the one that’s under renovation?”
Kate scooted her barstool closer to us. “Someone here told our blogger friend Kerry that it’s not under renovation; it’s actually haunted, and the hotel’s trying to cover it up.”
“That’s absurd,” Stuart said, splotchy patches of red appearing on his cheeks. “Why would anyone here say such a thing?”
I shrugged. “Maybe someone wants the hotel to fail?”
Stuart took a huge gulp of the white wine the bartender set in front of him. “I don’t know anyone who’s eager to be out of work. It certainly isn’t me.”
Considering how upset he looked, I was inclined to believe him.
“It looks like you started the party without us,” Fern said as he walked up to the bar with Richard behind him. His eyes widened as he took in my styled hair and he gave me a thumbs up.
“Did you match the bar on purpose?” I eyed Fern’s brown tweed pants and yellow brocade vest.
Fern winked at me as he ran a finger down the brown leather buttons of his vest. “You know there are no accidents in life, Annabelle.”
I had to admire Fern’s attention to detail and ability to dress to any theme. At least the resort lent itself to tweed and shooting costumes. Fern had been known to wear feather headdresses to coordinate with events before.
“I need a drink,” Richard said, taking a standing spot between Kate and me at the bar.
“I guess your post-spa serenity has worn off already?” I asked, wondering how his melon-colored shirt could look so perfectly pressed after coming out of a suitcase.
Richard jerked his head in Fern’s direction. “Well, someone just filled me in on all the information gathering you were doing while I was getting wrapped in mud.”
I couldn’t be upset at Fern for telling Richard, since he was notoriously bad at keeping secrets. Normally I used this to my advantage, having Fern disseminate information through his Georgetown hair salon. I should have known that my questioning of Kerry would get back to Richard sooner or later. Of course, I would have preferred later.
I laughed it off. “Kerry and I were chatting. Nothing more.”
“Do I look simple to you?” He beckoned the bartender. “Campari and soda, please.”
“I was just asking Stuart how I ended up one room away from Brianna and Kerry,” I said.
Richard rolled his eyes. “Because you believe the room between you is haunted, and you think someone is setting you up to uncover the ghost?”
“I don’t think it’s haunted.” I pointed at Kate and Fern. “These two do. I think someone’s pretending the room is haunted.”
Richard drained half of his drink in one swallow. “Why would someone want to pretend the hotel is haunted if ghosts are scaring off business?”
“It can’t be anyone who works here,” Stuart said.
“We just have to figure out who would benefit by the hotel losing business.” I took another sip of wine. “It always comes down to motive.”
Stuart laughed. “It sounds like you’ve done this before.”
“Haven’t you heard?” Kate said. “We’re kind of famous for solving crimes at our weddings.”
Richard swirled the liquid around in his rocks glass. “More like infamous.”
The smile dropped off Stuart’s face. “Seriously? You have a lot of crimes happen at your weddings?”
I shot Kate a look that told her to stop talking. “Not a lot. A few. Accidents.”
Kate leaned over me and dropped her voice. “Murders.”
“Are we talking about the murders you’ve solved at your weddings?” Buster asked as he and Mack lumbered up to the bar. Even though the
y still wore plaid flannel shirts that fit the country setting, they’d both topped them with a leather vest. I figured it was hard to go cold turkey on the full-body leather after so many years.
Stuart’s facial expression hovered somewhere between shocked and stricken. I suspected we might not get such red carpet treatment if we ever made a return visit.
“We had nothing to do with the people who were killed.” I put a hand on his arm. “It was just a case of being in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
“Kind of like now,” Richard said.
“Not like now.” I glared at him. “Now there are no dead bodies.”
Fern wagged a finger at me. “Au contraire. Ghosts are pretty dead if you ask me.”
“Not if they’re made up,” I said. “And that’s what we’re going to prove.”
Chapter 12
“How can you have room for s’mores after that dinner?” I asked Richard as we walked outside the front of the resort to the firepit holding skewers along with packs of graham crackers, chocolate bars, and marshmallows.
The autumn sun had set long ago, but the lights from the hotel illuminated our way down the stone path. The air was cool but not yet cold, and there were no sounds save those of our feet against the paving stones and the rhythmic song of the crickets.
He gave me a pointed look as he let Hermès run ahead of him on the leash. “Maybe because I didn’t have the lobster mac and cheese like some people.”
“It was worth it,” I said, thinking back to my rich, creamy pasta with chunks of sweet lobster meat. “Even if it was so filling I could only look at those doughnut holes dusted in cocoa sugar that Stuart ordered for the table.”
“I could have eaten a truckload of those,” Buster said, patting his rounded stomach.
“Luckily, I ordered a salad so I could eat a truckload of them,” Mack called back to us as he strode ahead. “And I still have room for s’mores.”
“Should I be the one to tell him a steak salad with bleu cheese dressing is not diet food?” Fern whispered.