“Leslie Owens’s story was almost exactly the same. Except that she fought back and Brian ended up dead.”
Nell shook her head. “Such a terrible thing.”
“Uncle Charlie closed that section of the hotel, but he never told me why. He did it not long after Mary Dennison wrote that entry in the journal. I-I’m really starting to believe the entire hotel is haunted.”
Nell arched a silver eyebrow. “There’s not much doubt of that, dear girl. Half the town is haunted. The spirits, however, are mostly harmless, even playful. This sounds like something more.”
Jenny didn’t mention the strange noises she had heard in her room last night. She didn’t want Nell to think she was imagining all of this.
“I have a friend,” Nell said, as the meal came to a close. “Her name is Cleopatra Swift. She was named after the mountain this town is built on.”
“Cleopatra Hill.”
Nell nodded. “Cleo has a gift. She doesn’t talk about it to most people, but Cleo can sense the presence of spirits. She’s sensitive to their thoughts and emotions. Sometimes she can help them pass into the world beyond, where they’re supposed to be.”
Seconds passed as Jenny absorbed the information. “So you don’t think what I’m telling you is crazy.”
“Not in the least. I was raised in Jerome. I’ve heard ghost stories all my life. Some of them could make the hair stand up on the back of your neck. I learned to be less skeptical than most.”
“This friend of yours . . . Cleopatra. Will she help me?”
Nell set her napkin next to her empty plate. “Cleo might agree to help. If she does, she’ll come to the Copper Star, see if she can make some sort of contact. In the meantime, I suggest you do some research. Try to find out what might have happened in the hotel in the past. Perhaps you’ll even find mention of something in room ten.”
Jenny smiled for the first time since she and Nell had been seated in the dining room. “I’ve been meaning to do that.”
“The museum on Main Street would be a good place to start. They have lots of books on early Jerome. Maybe someone who works there will have information that could be useful.”
“Yes. And the library. I’ll start tomorrow.”
Both of them rose from the table. Emma appeared out of nowhere to help Nell into her wheelchair for the trip up to her suite. Whenever she wasn’t with Nell, Emma entertained herself with a bag of knitting that was always close at hand.
“I think I’ll take a nap,” Nell said. “I’ll call Cleo a little later and let you know what she says.”
“Thank you so much.”
“Don’t thank me yet.” Nell gave her a stern look down the length of her nose. “And until we figure out what’s going on, stay out of room ten.”
As Emma rolled Nell’s wheelchair toward the elevator, Jenny thought of the evil that could have possessed Brian Santana, and goose bumps crept over her skin.
* * *
James Randall, the president of Barrett Enterprises, had a family emergency. His mother had been in a car accident and was rushed to the local hospital. Cain had canceled the rest of today’s meetings. Fortunately, the doctors believed the woman would be okay.
Though it was only six o’clock, Cain was tired to the bone. Heading straight home, he pulled into the driveway and opened the garage door. He needed to get a decent night’s sleep.
The Jag idled quietly. Though the outside lights softly illuminated the carefully constructed desert-landscaped yard, the house looked as empty and lonely as it had the night before.
His breath came out on a sigh. He needed to finalize the work they’d been doing and close the Titan deal. But they had all worked hard today and managed to accomplish most of what they needed to do.
Cain studied the uninviting interior of the house. The meetings had gone well, better than expected. Tomorrow, if necessary, a Zoom call could handle the rest.
He checked his heavy gold wristwatch. He could be back at the ranch before nine. Or he could be back in Jerome.
Cain put the Jag in reverse and backed out of the driveway. There was a convenience store on the way to the freeway. A quick stop at the Circle K, a hot cup of coffee, and he was on his way.
Traffic was moderate. The Jag rolled north on Interstate 101, merged onto I-17, and continued north, the strong coffee and the demands of mountain driving keeping Cain alert.
An hour and a half later, he spotted the sign for Prescott and turned off the interstate onto AZ 69. Another convenience-store stop, and he was passing through town, heading up Iron Springs Road toward the ranch. He slowed the Jag as he approached the Y in the road, left to the ranch, right to Jerome. It was almost the same distance, but the drive to Kirkland took less time. Still . . .
