We thanked her for her instruction and decided to convene in our rooms.
“Okay, so, we have a lot to talk about,” Pauline said.
“Yeah, we do,” Georgianne agreed.
“I don’t get the sense we have any supernatural activity, that’s what’s been bugging me,” I said. We three had experience with such things, and I had to believe if the inn was haunted, we’d have at least a little inkling.
“Speaking of bugs, here’s what I found in a linen closet at the end of the second floor.”
Georgianne lifted her phone and showed us the camera roll.
“Is that a terrarium?” I said as she showed us the square glass container on the corner of a storage closet.
“Yeah, and it was mostly empty, but I encountered a spider, or twelve.”
“Ew, yuck,” Pauline said.
“Further yuck: red dye and Karo syrup.” Georgianne flipped to the next picture on her phone. It was a bucket next to the spiders filled with a clearly fake blood concoction.
“The zombie spiders and bloody tap water were fake,” Pauline said.
“Well, they weren’t the product of an evil spirit or ghost, if that’s what you mean. Someone was cultivating spiders and movie blood,” I said. Though why they were doing it was the real question. “How about you, any luck finding Dolores?”
“No, not a trace of her, but I did find this in her office.” It was Pauline’s turn to display her phone. Pauline had taken a picture of a yellowing document, framed and hung on Dolores’s office wall.
“That’s a ship’s log,” Georgianne said, and I pinched my fingers on the screen to try to read it better.
“This lists the cargo of the SS Bannockburn!” I read aloud. It was loaded down with gold, silver, and even some copper.
“Can you imagine what that would be worth in today?” Georgianne wondered.
“At least ten million bucks,” Pauline said. “I did the math.”
“Whoa, that’d be quite the fortune to give back to families,” I said.
“I also found this.” Pauline produced a handful of loose pearls. Just like the type that Dolores wore in large quantities around her neck.
“That feels ominous,” I said, imagining what might have caused the strand to break and the pearls to go rolling around Dolores’s quarters.
“Did you find anything?” Georgianne asked.
“Well, yes, but I didn’t take any pictures because it was none of my business,” I told them about finding Skeetch and Chef Courtney in a romantic clinch. “I did hear them say they were so close or something like that.”
“Do we even want to know what they were so close to?” Georgianne quipped.
“Yeah, no,” I said. My snooping had produced the least useful information.
“The question is, who’s trying to sink this business worse than the old SS Bannockburn,” Pauline mused.
“If this place goes under, Dolores loses her business, and the employees are out of a job. None of them have a motive to deploy the spiders or the blood,” I pointed out.
“But we’ve learned that one weird thing after another keeps driving guests away and driving their online reviews into the basement,” Georgianne said.
“Haunted spiders in my sheets, one star, wouldn’t recommend,” I joked.
“And where the heck is Dolores? I’m worried about the old gal,” Pauline said.
“I think it’s time we stop sneaking around and tell Skeetch what we’ve found. Maybe he has an idea who could be trying to screw this business,” I suggested.
My friends agreed.
“One more thing—the office, well, it smelled like patchouli,” Pauline said.
Bruce the Masseuse also smelled like patchouli.
Maybe that meant he’d been looking for his aunt, or maybe it meant he was the reason she was missing.
6
To our surprise, we found Skeetch with Ms. Dolores in her office.
Our fervent fears that the woman had been victimized by someone or something evaporated. They were replaced by relief and a fair amount of confusion.
“Ms. Dolores, it is so good to see you today. We were worried when you missed the waffles this morning,” Pauline said as her eagle eyes surveyed the pearl strands. Skeetch poured Dolores a spot of tea.
“Can I get you ladies some as well?” he asked us.
“No, we have business to get to. Where did you get off to, Ms. Dolores?” I asked Dolores. She shook her head and put a narrow finger in the pearls and twisted them.
“It was the strangest thing; I was in the library wing early this morning and felt sleepy. The next thing I knew, I was napping at the desk in there! Probably drooling. I tell you, there’s nothing pretty about a woman over fifty sleeping.”
Skeetch patted her hand. She sipped the tea.
“The library is in the unrenovated wing. None of us ever go there, it’s dangerous. I’m so glad nothing happened. Never a dull moment with Ms. Dolores. Now, you ladies said you had business,” Skeetch scolded us. “This is supposed to be your GNO weekend.”
“Dolores here asked us to keep an eye out for what’s killing this place, and it wasn’t hard. Your guests leave in droves thanks to the, uh, haunted rooms,” Pauline scolded Skeetch right back.
“Except they’re not haunted,” Georgianne said.
“Of course, they are, I mean you three are witches, you’ve got to know that this place is filled with all sorts of ghosts,” Dolores said. Having ghosts or Yooper Naturals in Widow’s Bay was a tourist attraction, usually. But in this case, it felt a lot more like human hijinks.
“Someone is sabotaging your hotel guests,” Pauline said.
“Who might want this place to fail? Because they’re trying to make it happen,” I questioned.
A pained look came over Skeetch’s face, “I told you, Dolores. I warned you.”
She looked back at him. “No, I can’t believe it.”
Dolores and Skeetch had a secret between them that we weren’t privy to.
“I don’t like burdening guests with this, but, well…Bruce is bitter that Dolores didn’t name him caretaker and manager of the Van Keppler,” Skeetch said. Dolores looked down into her lap at the comment.
“Holy heck, I smelled patchouli in here when we were looking for you, Dolores,” Pauline said.
“Bruce the Masseuse does love his essential oils,” I added.
“This has gone too far. It’s criminal!” Skeetch said, his voice raised, and his hands bunched into fists.
“He’s family—shirttail, but family. Let’s just tell him that we’re reducing staff for the season. No need to even involve authorities. We’ll close the spa for a while,” Dolores said to Skeetch.
“That’s too generous. You are too kind-hearted with him. You always have been,” Skeetch replied.
“It is fraud, you could press charges. And if he slipped you a sleeping pill or something in your tea, that’s horrifying,” I pointed out. I agreed with Skeetch, Bruce’s treachery was criminal.
“No, no, I just can’t. Girls, it’s fine. I have Skeetch here and you three who came to my rescue. It’s my wish that we handle this discreetly. It will be better for me and for the business.”
“That’s true. There is such a thing as bad publicity, no matter what they say,” Pauline added.
Georgianne, Pauline, and I watched them come to terms with the fact that Dolores’ relative was the bad apple trying to spoil her business.
“Bruce has gone home for the day. He’s scheduled to come in tomorrow. We’ll tell him then and have the authorities on speed dial. But only if he gives us trouble. How does that sound, Dolores?” Skeetch offered.
“That sounds wonderful.” She patted Skeetch’s hand and then turned to us. “Now you three, try to have a good night. It’s been a long day; you’ve handled enough drama for a weekend that was supposed to be your getaway.”
We left our hostess and her caretaker and headed back up to our rooms.
&nbs
p; Georgianne removed the cork from a fresh bottle of Malbec, and we plopped down around my room.
“Fake blood and trained spiders. I mean, that’s a new one,” Pauline remarked.
“Do you think she’s doing the right thing, not calling the police on Bruce?” Georgianne wondered.
“I don’t know, the part that bothers me is her missing today. We don’t have a good explanation for why he’d try to put her to sleep like that. That’s the really dangerous part. What good did it do having her out of the way?” I didn’t have an answer to my own question.
The wine was doing its work, and we all let some of the tension of the weird day ebb from our bodies. We analyzed all we’d learned.
“I’m telling you; this place could be a gold mine if the word got out how great it is,” Pauline said.
“Instead, the word got out that it was a spider circus,” Georgianne added.
“All our magic powers and a completely unmagical mystery. A greedy relative trying to undermine the business, out of what? Jealousy? People are so weird.” Pauline took another sip. I did the same.
“People are weird!” Georgianne declared, and we all three clinked glasses.
“You know, the weather has turned really lovely. Let’s take this party out on the back porch! We can still salvage one night of our girl’s night out, or well, weekend out,” I suggested. The girls agreed.
We grabbed our sweaters, and another bottle, and padded through the quiet mansion. It was odd to be the only guests. We all moved silently through the kitchen.
We arranged chairs and watched the full moon over the inky lake. The waters had calmed with sunset.
“This place really is gorgeous,” Georgianne sighed.
“And not haunted by evil spirits!” Pauline raised her glass, and we laughed.
“They can put that on the brochure,” Georgianne added.
The mystery was solved, though it could be dicey when Bruce showed up for work tomorrow. I wondered if it might be smart to summon one of my more muscular werewolf friends to keep the peace.
As we sat there, I realized there was a bigger mystery. One that maybe we could help with.
“I have an idea,” I said.
“Uh oh,” Georgianne replied.
“No, hear me out. What if we can use our magic to get a location on the SS Bannockburn?”
“What,” Pauline asked.
“I mean, we know it launched from Widow’s Bay. What if it’s close, and we can pinpoint it?”
“How?” said Pauline.
“Let’s call forth her grandfather,” I suggested.
“Honey, we already determined there are no ghosts out here,” Georgianne reminded me.
“Let’s just try.”
“Okay, I’ve had three glasses of Malbec, I’ll try anything at this point,” Pauline said.
I stood up. We linked hands.
“I’m going to direct us to an echo spell. We want to see the echo of Captain Van Keppler,” Georgianne said, explaining the spell’s parameters. We all had our role to play when we did more powerful spells. Georgianne did the research and knew what spell to use. Pauline was a focus intensifier. Her energy made any spell more potent.
I was always the words. Right or not, I supplied the words that formed our will into tangible, physical action. As we stood on the porch, the words slipped out of my Malbec stained lips:
“Old man of the sea
Hear our plea.
Where last ye be?
Make yourself known,
to we three!”
As we stood, a fog coalesced in front of us. It floated toward the water, and there he was, Captain Lars Van Keppler. His outline shimmered in the fog that our spell had summoned. He stood straight, square-shouldered. A white beard and white Captain’s hat glowed in front of us. The ghost man and the sea!
“Where is your vessel? Help us bring comfort to your crew’s children’s children,” I said to the spectral form.
He stayed silent, unwilling—or unable—to speak. Then the ghostly image floated up and up, all the way to the old lighthouse.
We stood there as he disappeared into the high window. He’d given us no answer, no clue where to search.
And then there was a crackling feeling in the air. A beacon shot from the lighthouse glass. It had been dead for centuries, but now it lit up the bay. The light was blinding, but we followed it down to the water. It formed a spotlight on a vessel only a few feet away from the dock that stretched into the lake.
“Is it the Bannockburn?” Pauline asked.
“No, it’s too small, and it’s no ghost ship,” I said.
The lighthouse had illuminated a modern offshore fishing vessel, not a century-old ghost ship. Why would they be boating in the dark at night? There appeared to be motion on the boat, but they didn’t react to the floodlight. I suspected only we could see the magical light we’d conjured from the Captain and the lighthouse.
It dawned on me that I had a way to get a much better look.
“Pop the trunk of your car! I need my broom!” I said to Pauline and broke our handhold.
“The magic will be—” Georgianne began, and before she could even get the words out, the lighthouse was dark yet again. The ghost captain and his light were gone.
“I need to get out there,” I said.
We ran to Pauline’s car. She didn’t hesitate and handed me my broom.
“Be careful, winds could kick up out there on the dime. Remember that time I biffed it scouting real estate,” Pauline warned me.
“You biffed it on your broom because you were texting and flying,” Georgianne reminded Pauline, who waived her off.
“We may be late broomers, but I’ve got the hang of it, don’t worry,” I reassured my coven BFFs.
I pushed off and was aloft.
“Remember, stay focused!” Georgianne called after me as I whooshed higher into the sky above the mansion and out over the waters of Lake Superior.
Brooms had no headlights, so I had to be pinpoint accurate on location if I was going to find the boat Van Keppler’s light had revealed. I followed the light from my mind’s eye, and there, below me, I saw it. The offshore vessel.
I got closer and closer but still hopefully out of view of the boat.
And then I listened. The two people on the boat were yelling at one another.
“Get this on here, this has to be our last load.” A man’s voice, a familiar voice!
It was Skeetch and Courtney. They were pulling something up onto their boat.
It was a crate, secured with a chain.
And I’d bet my eye of newt there was gold in that crate.
I didn’t give myself away. I directed my broom back to the shore and the waiting witches.
“Well?”
“Skeetch and Courtney are out there hauling treasure. Let’s head to the boathouse, I think we’ll find a lot more.”
“Did they see you?” Georgianne asked.
“Please, we’re getting good at this, no way,” I said.
We ran to the boathouse. The place I’d seen them in their romantic embrace. This time Georgianne used her wand and unlocked the building.
“Holy heck,” Pauline gasped. We discovered at least six crates like the one I’d seen them load on the boat.
Pauline pried open one crate. The inside glowed like the last scene from Pulp Fiction. It lit up Pauline’s face in the process.
“What are you doing in here?”
We swung around to see Fiona at the door to the boathouse. She had a handgun instead of a hair removing laser gun.
We all froze.
“They’re on their way back. I have orders to shoot anyone who interferes,” Fiona said. I happened to know she had good aim; well, with a hair laser at least.
“Orders from who?” Pauline asked.
The sound of a motor drowned out any answer Fiona might give. Skeetch and Courtney’s boat was docking at the end of the building.
“Fiona, you need to
put that down. This is ridiculous,” I said, hoping that we could get the situation under control before the laser tech got trigger happy.
But Skeetch was fast. He leaped off the boat and appeared next to Fiona.
“Good work. It looks like these three witches need to be swept out to sea,” Skeetch sniggered.
“You found the Bannockburn cargo, and you’re going to keep it for yourselves,” I said to Skeetch. Fiona’s hand was steady and kept the gun trained on us.
“Instead of giving it to a bunch of families that didn’t work for it like the old lady promised? Yeah, exactly.” Skeetch sneered at us.
“Fiona, get that rope over there. We’re going to take them on a little boat ride. Courtney’s at the wheel,” Skeetch ordered Fiona around. She appeared used to the arrangement.
“Great, finally have a GNO, and it ends with us being murdered by a guy named Skeetch,” Georgianne muttered to me.
“Also, we made those paintings,” I offered sardonically.
“Enough, the three of you, get in the boat,” Skeetch demanded.
The door to the boathouse swung open.
“Reach for the sky, Skeetch!”
It was Dolores’ voice, but next to her was Byron DeLoof of the Widow’s Bay Police Department.
“Do what Ms. Van Keppler says, or I will shoot. Drop that gun, ma’am.”
Skeetch looked at Fiona, trying to assert his authority.
“Shoot the cop,” Skeetch said.
“I—no,” Fiona replied. It was that little bit of hesitation that we three witches needed.
I shot the word to Georgianne and Pauline: Drop!
We all thought drop, at once, and Fiona’s weapon crashed to the wooden planks of the boathouse floor and then bounced into the water.
“Don’t move,” Officer DeLoof said to Skeetch, who could count well enough to figure out that the odds were now against him.
“I always wanted to say that! Reach for the sky. Like the old Westerns. Did I do it okay?”
“You did, Ms. Van Keppler, you did,” DeLoof assured her.
We moved out of the line of fire, and a swarm of WBPD filled the boathouse.
Cold Cases and Haunted Places Page 49