A Ghost at Stallion's Gate (2 page)

“What’s so funny?” She queried with raised eyebrows.

“If you have time to sit down, I’ll tell you about my experience today.”

She remained standing. “I suppose so. Mr. and Mrs. Gerenger, the guests I just took the tea tray to, said they were staying in for the evening and wouldn’t need anything else. So, you had a humorous experience today?”

“Rosario, please sit down.” She did. “Before I tell you of my experience, is there any chance you know of a bed and breakfast inn near or in the Pasadena area?”

“No, none at all. However if this is for you, I’ll be glad to call the staff at an associated parish up there and ask around. But, I thought you were going to be put up at the mansion that you’re writing the brochure about.”

“No. And no.” I leaned over the kitchen table and patted her clasped hands. “Rosario, I do not want you calling around to find me lodging, I’ll do that. I just wanted to know if you had a ready reference to one. Actually, Zach suggested I ask Alex for a lodging referral, since Alex knows people up there.”

Rosario’s face darkened for a fleeting moment, then just as quickly she smiled. She was always forthright about her fondness for Alex, so I couldn’t imagine why she would frown. I allowed her, her moment and then confessed, “To be truthful, I have a creepy feeling about that mansion, and that’s why I don’t want to stay there.”

Rosario raised her eyebrows and then said, “Creepy, how so?”

I took a deep breath and sighed. “The mansion has a trophy room that has stuffed horse heads mounted on the walls and also a stuffed horse that’s standing in the middle of the room and hitched to an old carriage.”

“Oh dear, that would be a frightful sight to come upon. I hope you weren’t alone when you discovered it?”

“Zach was with me, but he isn’t as unnerved by it as I am. He said he’d see about having them moved out of the room and put in storage.”

Rosario looked alarmed. She leaned over the table and asked, “Zach was with you? Shannon, don’t you mean it was his cousin Joshua who was with you? It is Joshua who took over the business?”

What an odd reaction from Rosario
. I let her comment go and continued with my story.
“Rosario, never mind who was with me, my point is, who in their right mind would have left those horses there, anyway?”

“Now, Shannon, and don’t get me wrong, I am not taking this incident lightly, but why would you have a creepy feeling about horse trophies?”

“Rosario, ever since I left that mansion, I’ve heard the drumming sound of horse hooves. You see, I was the last to leave the mansion and in pausing for a minute before getting into my car, I heard a horse whinny. Rosario, there aren’t horses anywhere near the location of that mansion.”

“Dear, dear, in more ways than one, this has been a stressful day for you. I’m sure there is a logical explanation. But for now, we won’t concern ourselves about it.” She smiled brightly and nodded her head, as if she was already in agreement with what she said next. “I know, you go on up to your room and take a long hot bubble bath. I’ll call Alex for you and explain your situation. I’m sure he’ll recommend a good inn or hotel in the area, one that is not in view of that mansion so that it won’t be on your mind and won’t get on your nerves.”

“Thanks Rosario. I’ll take you up on that offer. Bubble bath, here I come.”

Chapter 3

I pulled up to the curb in front of Rose Victorian Bed and Breakfast Inn on Magnolia Avenue in Pasadena. It was a classic Victorian house, done up in soft hues of rose, dusty blue and dark green trim. A home, not a mansion, Rosario assured me that Alex’s contact gave this inn the highest possible rating for charm, service and safety. Rosario had said to register first, then pull into the drive. Then she mumbled something about making sure I get the room I want before unloading my suitcase. An odd thing for her to say, but when I left this morning she was in a rush, so I accepted the comment as her being the mother hen that she is. She was looking out for my best interest. I got out of my car and walked up the few steps to the front door and stepped into the foyer.

“Miss Delaney?” a gentleman asked from the service desk a few feet away.

“Yes. I have a reservation.” I stepped up to the tidy oak reception desk. I smiled and looked at him, noticing he was not wearing a name pin, I asked, “And you are?”

“Darren Kelsey, at your service. I’m one of the owners and the primary innkeeper. If you need anything, I’m at your call.” He smiled, and I liked him, instantly. “When Mr. Blackthorne telephoned he requested that I show you our cottage. It’s toward the back of our property, originally was the carriage house, very quiet and private. In fact, you’ll not share a parking space, the cottage has it’s own.”

“Okay, that’s sounds good to me Mr. Kelsey. Should I move my car to the back?”

“By all means, please do. Just pull in the drive, continue to the back then make a slight jog to the left, you’ll see the cottage. Your parking is on the left side. I’ll be there to meet you. Oh, and if you prefer, please call me Darren.”

I parked and met Darren at the front of the cottage. He immediately began to tell me about the inn.

“We call the inn Rose Victorian because all the rooms are named for roses. This cottage is called Sentimental Journey. All the rose bushes surrounding this cottage are the striped burgundy and ivory rose named Sentimental Journey. They’re very fragrant, so feel comfortable opening your windows to allow the scent in.”

He opened the door and I followed him into the suite of rooms. We stood in the center of the front room.

Darren turned to me and explained, “Basically, you have this living room, your bedroom is off the right, the bath is off the bedroom. Then at the back of this living room there’s a full service kitchen and a small dining area off of it, to the left. From the kitchen, at the far right corner there’s a porch and a door that leads to a small patio with a garden. We call it the secret garden because it is completely private.” He held out his hand, offering me the key.

I took the key. “Thank you. This is perfect.”

Darren nodded agreement. “Okay then, I’ll just be a moment getting your luggage,” he said and turned to leave, but then he did a turnaround. “Ah, I forgot to mention that the refrigerator is stocked with a few courtesy items, should you require anything additional, please, just ring the front desk.”

“Thank you,” I replied and then went into the bedroom, dropped my purse on the chair that was off to the side of the queen bed. I returned to the front room. Darren had my suitcase and tote bag in hand.

“Shall I leave these here, or take them into the bedroom?”

“Here, is fine.”

“Then I’ll be on my way.”  Darren turned to leave and I stepped forward to give him a tip, but he seemed to sense what I was trying to do and turned back around. “Oh, I forgot, all gratuities are included in your lodging.” He clasped his hands together, determine not to take a tip. “Enjoy your stay.” He turned and left.

The cottage was beautiful. The rooms were painted a warm ivory color and the furnishings were in various hues of burgundy reds, in variant patterns of solids and floral. The color scheme was just like the dozens of rose that decorated the exterior. This was a style of country Victorian at its very best. I couldn’t resist going around to all the windows and opening each one a little. True to Darren’s description there was a rose bush at every window and all the bushes were in full bloom. The spicy fragrance was heavenly and better than any candle or potpourri scent I ever had. “Thank you Alex,” I said aloud.

“You are quite welcome, only the best for you, if I have anything to say about,” I heard a phantom voice say.

A mist of cold air enveloped me. I turned to see Eric Blackthorne standing right behind me. “So, my ghost has come along for the ride?” I asked him.

“My dear Shannon,” he bowed slightly, “never will you be without my company in times of need.”

“Eric, is this about that horrid room of horse trophies?”

“Shall we be comfortable?” He turned, and without waiting for my reply went to the living room. Eric sat down in an overstuffed wing chair.

I sat across from him on the overstuffed sofa.

“Whose idea was this inn, yours or Alex’s?” I asked.

“Oh, Alex, I assure you. Of course, I am in full agreement; otherwise, you’d not be here. By the way, did the innkeeper, Darren, seem a bit nervous?”

Eric’s comment caught me off guard, but I have to admit that Darren did seem a bit nervous. “Yes, now that you mention it, I guess he could be described as nervous, or maybe he’s new at being an innkeeper and he’s trying his best. He made me feel welcome.”

“He is quite new at this innkeeper business. By trade, he’s a magician. Catch his act this coming Sunday and you’ll see a totally different personality.”

“Really? Darren Kelsey is a magician? Why, that must be the connection to Alex. You mean to say, that Darren is a member of the Magic Castle, too?”

Eric smiled. “Not only that, but you’ll probably meet magicians while lodging here. Among professional magicians, this is a favorite place for lodging in the Los Angeles area. In fact, you quite well may be the only lodger here who is not a magician.” He smiled and appeared quite charmed by that knowledge.

“Eric, this is exciting news. Will Darren perform at the Magic Castle, and if so, how can I get invited to it?”

“Darren gives a show in the main parlor of this inn every Sunday afternoon. Guests are, of course, invited. The Magic Castle, that’s a little different. Give a hint to Alex, he’ll take you as his guest. Generally speaking, it is not open to the public.”

Disappointed, I nodded, and looked around, “I would like to unpack, I’ve agreed to meet a photographer over at Stallion’s Gate, in about an hour.”

Good thing about Eric is that he quickly picks up on hints. “Yes. About Stallion’s Gate. Shannon, the horse room should not distress you.” He leaned forward and looked at me. His face was sincere and as handsome as ever. Dark hair framing classic features with eyes that commanded attention. Dark eyes, dark hair, tall and lean, Eric Blackthorne was the iconic image of a Victorian era magician. I imagine every boy who ever dreamed about being a magician dreamt of looking like Eric Blackthorne. “Shannon?”

I came out of my fog, “Yes.” I smiled, trying to shake off the feeling I had when I was around Eric. “But, that room is eerie and creepy. Eric, why would anyone do that to horses?”

“Because they were loved. Remember that the owner was passionate about horses. He loved them, maybe even more than the humans in his life. And they are, or were, animals, not human in form.”

“Oh, please! Then, do you think Alex will stuff Atlas when he passes over?”

“No, but Alex is not living in a time when the passion and love for Irish Wolfhounds is prohibited by law.”

“Huh?”

“Shannon, in the 1920s, horse racing was a form of gambling and it was illegal. It wasn’t legalized in California until 1933.”

“Eric? You were dead and gone by the 1920s. How could you know this?”

“I had the opportunity to do a little research last night, before you packed up your laptop computer.”

“While I was sleeping you were in my room, surfing away on the Internet?” I asked.

“Really, Shannon, what difference does it make where I was. I’m a ghost. I can be anywhere, especially within the interior of the home that I built. You were asleep. I saw no reason to interrupt your rest to ask permission to use your computer. After all, I do recall you gave me access to it in the first place, hence I have my own email address.”

“Yes, I remember.” I could not fault Eric for taking advantage of something I taught him how to do. I looked at him. He had been studying me. I knew that look all to well, it was identical to the way Alex would study me, and patiently wait for me to say the right thing. So I did say the right thing. “I’ll keep your advice in mind when I’m over at Stallion’s Gate. Which, by the way, I need to leave soon.”

Eric stood up. “I shall be on my way. Just call my name if you need me.” He bowed ever so slightly.

And then, poof. Like magic, he was gone.

Chapter 4

The late morning sun cast a decidedly sunny ambiance over Stallion’s Gate mansion. I stood outside in front of the mansion admiring it and relieved that it didn’t seem spooky, at all. Good thing, I thought. Because the very last impression I wanted to give to the photographer is that I am apprehensive about this assignment. At that last thought I heard a car drive up, I turned in time to see a young woman pull up, park right in the center of the circle drive. She waved to me from her car and then got out.

Grace Jordan did not fit her name. She was far too young for a name like Grace.
Must be a family named handed down to her
, I mused. And she didn’t walk, she bounced. Her black hair was pulled back in a short pony tail and it swung back and forth. A camera bag and portfolio slung over her shoulder bounced in time to her steps. For a moment I thought she would bounce right past me.

“Hi. You must be Miss Delaney? I’m Grace Jordan, but call me Gracie, okay?”

Gracie’s enthusiasm was contagious, “Sure, and call me Shannon.”

“I’ve got everything I need. Can we go on in?” she asked.