Preston waved his hand in dismissal. “That’s all very well, but unless we can dredge up some evidence of the supernatural, we’ll never land the show. What have you got so far?”
She wiped a thin film of sweat from her brow. “Laurel’s roommate, Celia, is checking the provincial archives to find out more about the hotel’s history. That should help.”
“What about all the reviews the Duchess has gotten? Have any of the hotel’s former guests mentioned unexplained phenomena?”
“Not that we’ve seen. We started combing through our reviews last week, going as far back as the early 2010s, but we haven’t had any luck. We still have a long way to go.”
There were justsomany reviews—on TripAdvisor, Google, Yelp, and all the other travel aggregators. Prior to the internet, guests had expressed their feelings via comment cards, which they’d filled out at the end of their stay. At least sixty years’ worth of cards were packed into bankers’ boxes, located in the hotel’s basement storage area. Sorting through all of them would be a Herculean task.
“You need to work faster,” he said. “Recruit anyone else from the staff who has time on their hands. It’s been almost a week since Logan visited the hotel, and I’m sure he’ll make a decision soon. We don’t want to miss out.”
Charlie sighed. “Are you sure this is a good idea, sir? Since we don’t have any proof our hotel is haunted, we don’t want to be accused of misrepresenting ourselves. Or have this turn into a big joke.” Especially now that the Duke knew about it. Not that she’d share that information with him.
“Nonsense. This could be a huge win for the Duchess. We want this year’s spooky season to be the best one ever.” He narrowed his eyes at her. “Don’t forget your annual review is coming up next month. You wouldn’t want to jeopardize it in any way.”
Shit.That sounded like a threat. But it wasn’t as if she could magically conjure up a ghost or create an eerie legend that didn’t exist.
By the time he left, she was more on edge than ever. She was about to take her afternoon break when the desk phone rang. She answered it quickly, hoping it wasn’t a guest with a complaint. “The Duchess Hotel, Charlie Fraser speaking. How may I help you?”
The low rumble of Knox’s voice put her at ease. “Hey, Charlie. How’s it going?”
“I’m doing okay, but I’m bummed I haven’t gotten the chance to start in on my research. Right now, I’m stuck filling in at the front desk.”
“I assumed as much since you didn’t respond to my texts. Do you have a sec, or are you busy with a guest?”
“I’m good. What’s up?” The lobby was empty, save for a family of five, who stood near the hotel’s entrance, waiting for their airport shuttle.
“I just heard from Celia. She uncovered information about the hotel in the archives.”
“She did?” The tension eased from Charlie’s shoulders. She’d never expected Celia to come through this quickly. “I can’t believe she found something already.”
“She said it’s good stuff, too. If you can leave work early, she’s willing to meet us tonight at five thirty. I asked her if she could push it a little later, but she’s giving a ghost tour at seven.”
Though Charlie had planned to stay until six, technically, this meeting counted as work. Preston couldn’t possibly complain, not when he’d just badgered her about finding more information. “I can make it. But isn’t this your day off?”
“It’s okay. This ghost stuff is high priority. I’m sure Preston’s been riding you about it.”
“Has he ever. He stopped by the front desk a few minutes ago.” Charlie wrote down the time and place of the meeting. “Thanks for setting this up.”
“Glad to do it. I’ll see you in a bit.”
“See you, Knox.”
As she hung up, she could barely contain her exhilaration. Knox had gone out of his way to arrange this meeting—and on his day off, no less. He’d made a point ofcallingher about it. And now, she’d get to spend more time with him.
Of course, there was the remote possibility Celia might have discovered something truly bone-chilling while researching the hotel’s history. But right now, Charlie was too excited to worry about that.
Six
At five thirty,Charlie hustled over to the Seagull, a pub located two blocks from the Duchess. It occupied a prime spot on Wharf Street, a bustling road overlooking the Inner Harbour. At this time of day, the area was crammed with tourists, and a few street musicians were out serenading the crowds. Traffic along Wharf Street was backed up due to a line of cars idling behind a horse-and-carriage loaded with people.
The pub’s outdoor patio had a lively feel, enhanced by the 1980s pop music playing through the speakers. Knox sat at a wrought-iron table shaded by a big red umbrella. He waved her over. “Hi, Charlie. I’m glad you could escape a little early.”
“Me, too. Today’s been kind of stressful.” She was tempted to tell him about Selena’s run-in with Alejandro but decided against it. For now, she wanted to focus on good news, not bad. “I’m eager to hear what Celia found out. I didn’t think we’d get any results this quickly.”
“Me neither.” Knox handed her a menu. “I ordered a beer, but I wasn’t sure what you wanted. Happy hour goes until six, and there’s a bunch of cocktail specials. But most of them are sickly-sweet frozen drinks.”
She grinned at him. “Aren’t you glad you’re not the one mixing them?”
