She waited to see if he’d follow up with a personal message. Like a joke about the storage room. Or a vibe check to see how she was doing after their unsettling experience. Text bubbles appeared, then disappeared, filling her with frustration. After ten minutes, she gave up waiting and set her phone face-down on the floor next to a stack of banker’s boxes. She kept hoping he’d text her again, but he never did. Though the silence nagged at her, she didn’t follow up with another message. Nor did she swing by the Gilded Lily to chat with him before happy hour started. If he wanted to reach her, he knew how to find her.
She didn’t talk to him again until Thursday night, when they met up to escort Celia and Glen to the storage room. While the two men had no qualms about joining Celia inside the room while she conducted her observation, Charlie watched from the doorway. This way, she could keep the door propped open and ensure they weren’t locked in. She also hoped it would spare her a repeat of the unsettling experience she’d had with Knox three days ago.
Rather than use any ghost-hunting tools, Celia sat on the faded settee and closed her eyes. And just like Charlie, she told them afterward that she’d been assaulted with a powerful barrage of emotions—sorrow, distress, rage. Charlie wasn’t sure whether to feel frightened or validated that theroom’s ghostly presence had affected her and Celia in the same way. Odder still, the men hadn’t felt a damn thing. Though the whole scenario was spooky as hell, Charlie couldn’t wait to tell the Damsels about it at their Friday morning meeting.
Once Celia and Glen left, she lingered behind, hoping for a chance to chat with Knox, but he had to get back to the Lily since he was on shift until eleven. When he didn’t suggest she stop by for a visit, she took that as her cue to head home.
To be fair, both she and Knox had been run ragged this week. The Duchess had been at full occupancy, thanks to Victoria playing host to a huge international wine festival. When not dealing with high-maintenance guests, Charlie had spent every spare minute plugging away at her research. The few times she’d passed the Gilded Lily during happy hour, the lounge had been packed. Normally, she and Knox would have joked about it, but something felt off between them.
Was it because she’d challenged his views on romance? Or because he’d almost kissed her and had immediately regretted it? Either way, she couldn’t shake the feeling her baby steps had been erased.
* * *
By Friday,Charlie had amassed so much information that she’d assembled it on one of the hotel’s whiteboards. She’d included staff reports, faded photographs, newspaper clippings, and a photocopy of the third-floor blueprints. The only thing missing was the red string detectives used when they were trying to connect their clues.
When it was time for the Damsels’ weekly meeting, she wheeled the board into the room. The other women stared at her in surprise.
“Charlie, what’s with the murder board?” Selena asked. “Are we hunting a serial killer?”
“I’ll explain in a minute.” Charlie turned to Rosie, who stood at the head of the table. “I know we have a lot of fall events to cover, but is it okay if I go first?”
“By all means.” Rosie sat down. “Take it away.”
Charlie cleared her throat. “Did you all read the email I sent about the tragic incident Celia discovered?” When they nodded, she continued. “Just to review the facts, the murder-suicide occurred in 1924 and took place in room 309, which was one of the hotel’s biggest suites. Shortly after that, it was turned into a storage area, along with the suite next to it. Knox and I went to check it out on Monday night.”
“Yes,” Selena said. “Now we’re getting somewhere. Though I remember it being very dusty up there. Not the best place for a steamy hookup.”
Charlie frowned. She didnotwant her memory of that almost-kiss messing with her head. “Nothing happened. We were there to see if we could detect a ghostly presence or feel its energy. I definitely felt uneasy. Kind of awful, if I’m being honest. And then, out of the blue, I went off on Knox and yelled at him.” Another memory that made her cringe. “But the room didn’t affect him at all. When we were ready to leave, the door wouldn’t open, and the key got stuck, like it was locked from the other side. We also couldn’t get a signal on our phones. Not from the hotel’s Wi-Fi or our regular cell service.”
She was afraid they might treat her experience like a joke, but no one was laughing.
“That’s creepy,” Laurel said. “Did you ask Celia to visit the room? She’s really attuned to the supernatural.”
“I did. She came by last night with her boyfriend, Glen.” Charlie shivered at the memory. “She told us she felt an overwhelming sadness. A sense of remorse and misery, followed by a surge of anger. Which were theexactsame emotions I felt. She also told me she could smell roses. Not the actual flowers, but the soap we once used in the hotel’s washrooms. I smelled the same thing when I was trapped in the room.”
“Fuck,” Selena exclaimed. “I would have gotten the hell out of there.”
“Believe me, I wanted to. But you know what’s even scarier? Before Celia went in to do her observation, Glen asked menotto tell her what I’d experienced. He said it would be better if she didn’t know what to expect.”
Laurel nodded. “That tracks. He’s all about the scientific method.”
“Right. So after Celia was done, when she told me how she felt, I couldn’t believe we’d had the same reactions. There’s something haunting that room, I’m sure of it.” In all honesty, Charlie had never expected any of this. At worst, she thought they might uncover a ghostly legend. Not go head-to-head with a restless spirit.
“Three people died, right?” Selena said. “Any guess as to which of them is causing this?”
“Celia thought the negative energy might be coming from Maeve,” Charlie said. “She’s the front desk clerk who was murdered. She was only twenty-one, and she’d been with the hotel since it first opened. You can see her right here.” Charlie pointed to a black-and-white picture. “This is a staff photo taken at the Grand Opening in 1922. I’m not sure why she risked her job to sneak off with Howard Delacroix to one of the hotel rooms. Even back then, romantic liaisons between the staff and the guests were strictly forbidden. Did Howard pay her for her services? Offer to make her his mistress? Or was she genuinely in love with him and hoped it would work out? There’s no way to know. But she ended up dead because of it.” The deeper Charlie probed, the more she sympathized with Maeve’s plight.
“That’s just heartbreaking,” Rosie said. “Did you find out anything else about her?”
“No. Sadly, there wasn’t even an obituary. Celia did a thorough search but couldn’t locate anyone related to her.”
“I wonder if her family was still back in Ireland,” Laurel said. “Do you think they ever learned about her death?”
“Imagine having no one to mourn you.” Rosie’s voice was subdued. “Poor Maeve.”
Charlie couldn’t help but wonder what had become of Maeve’s body. According to Celia, both Howard and Frances had been interred in Ross Bay Cemetery, the oldest burial ground in Victoria. But there was no evidence Maeve had a headstone anywhere.
“So…moving on. I want to talk about the next bit of evidence.” Charlie pointed to a series of handwritten pages taped to the board. “I found boxes of old files on the hotel’s staff—annual reviews, salary charts, and incidents when they were written up for infractions. A lot of them got in trouble for refusing to go into the storage room. Many claimed they’d been locked in. One woman was fired after she insisted she’d been stuck there for three hours. She was accused of using the room to take a nap, but I have a hunch the door wasn’t behaving.”
