A Ghost to Die For (2 page)

He laughed. “Okay, I admit I’ve had my fun for this Halloween. Let me finish my coffee and you can tell me about your next assignment.”

“I’m writing the brochure for the opening of the Museum of Mystery. It’s in the Gaslamp Quarter. And I need to be there early in the morning, so finish up and let’s go.”

Chapter 3

I parked on Fourth Avenue, near the historic Horton Grand Hotel. According to the directions given to me by Greg Winslow, curator of the Museum of Mystery, I need only walk up Fourth Avenue to the end of the block, turn the corner at Island Avenue, continue one block, past the Gaslamp Museum, turn the corner at Fifth Avenue and the Museum of Mystery is three doors up. I arrived five minutes before eight and approached the gentleman standing out front of the sleek black marble facade building.

“Are you Mr. Winslow?”

“Yes, I am. You must be Miss Delaney. You look exactly as Mr. Blackthorne described you.” He offered his handshake.

I juggled my purse and portfolio and shook his hand. “I’m very pleased to meet you, Mr. Winslow.”

“Please call me Greg, at least in private and certainly while we are working together on the brochure.”

I will, but you in turn must call me Shannon.” I smiled. I liked him immediately. He reminded me of my Uncle Alfred. Greg Winslow was of medium height, but appeared taller, he was slender and stood straight as a board. He had aged gracefully. According to Alex, Winslow was at least eighty years old.

Greg Winslow turned away from me and unlocked the museum’s heavy brass-clad door. “Just a moment, please, I’ll step into the foyer and turn on lights.” Within a few moments he returned and ushered me in, then firmly closed and locked the door. “Until we are officially open, I like to keep the door secured. Already, we have had many sightseers knock upon the door, inquiring about our hours of operation. A good omen, I’d say.” His brown eyes sparkled and when he smiled, crows feet lines crinkled around his eyes. His reaction to the early prospect of the museum’s success was a little tug at my heart, because when Winslow smiled, he reminded me that much more of how fond I am of my elderly uncle.

“All the better that we waste not a minute getting down to business. Where would you like me to begin?” I asked.

“I’ll give you a tour of the museum and explain what I know as we walk about. And you must feel free to ask questions as we go.” He stopped for a moment and then said, “Let’s start right here, where we are standing. This is the greeting hall, down there, where the rooms open to each side, there will be a ticket office, much like a box office at a movie theater. We were going to have the ticket office just outside the front door, but decided to keep it inside, safer and more convenient for patrons. Let’s begin the tour as a patron would.” I followed Greg into the first large room, just off the right side of where the ticket booth will be.

I stood at the entrance to the room and waited while he unlocked a light switch box on the wall immediately to our left. The ceiling lit up with soft-white lighting. The expanse of the room was laid open before me. Typical of many museums, the walls were painted a soft matte ivory and the carpet was a pebble-hued flat nap of industrial grade.

The room was filled with treasures of standing exhibits as well as wall-mounted displays. An easel sign in front of us announced that the theme of this room was Mysteries from Around the World. I walked in silence and took notice that the overall theme was one that linked all of humankind, cultures throughout history, from ancient civilizations to present day.

Exemplary of this theme was a large display about The Tree of Life. There were representations of artwork and studies that showed an uncanny link between many different cultures. The ancient Mesopotamian tree of life was undeniably similar to the Mesoamerican tree, as was the Celtic tree of life and dozens more trees of life from cultures all over the globe and over centuries of recorded history. But what was so amazing and indeed mysterious was how all of the trees of life resembled, in their symbolism, contemporary medical science’s illustration of the humankind DNA tree of life. This aspect awed me.

Other symbols from cultural beliefs and scientific discoveries were portrayed as a single link to all of humankind. I left this room feeling that the smaller the world becomes with technology touching every aspect of our lives, the closer we become aware that divisions between countries and societies are irrelevant in the big picture of humanity.The next room’s theme was Mysteries in the Americas. The room was divided in half, mysteries of North America were to one side, South America to the other side and the Gulf of Mexico and the Caribbean were in the
middle. Greg pointed out that this room was the most diverse and complex. It covered mysteries pertaining to a little bit of everything, from shipwrecks in the Bermuda Triangle to cryptozoology, studies on ancient aliens, petroglyphs, discoveries of lost gold, secret societies, underground cities and much more. I was extremely thankful when Greg offered to give me a printed sheet of all the topics covered in this room. Next, we entered the last room of the museum, Local Mysteries.

Upon entering this room, a huge wall mural of San Diego from the era of its first founding by Spanish explorers caught my eye. I walked over to it, totally entranced. Greg stood quietly beside me. I turned to him and said, “This is a real eye-catcher.”

“This map is one of our most prized attractions. The museum hired a well-known local artist to paint it. I must say, we’ve had experts in San Diego history proclaim that it is an accurate representation of maps from the earliest exploration of California.”

I turned away from the map to face the entire room. It was organized in chronological order, by century. I walked to our right to circle the room. Standing displays and walls displays chronicled an array of mysterious events, places and persons. There were many accounts of ghost sightings from spectral soldiers at the San Pasqual Battleground to a maid at the Horton Grand Hotel, located just around the block from the museum. Additionally, there were life-size displays of wax museum style mannequins. These exhibits were presented in smal
l partitioned booths of three walls each, I stopped at the one titled, The Mystery of Kate Morgan.

“I’ve heard of this. Is it Kate Morgan who, supposedly, haunts the Hotel Del Coronado?” I asked Greg.

“Yes, it is. She is quite popular with paranormal investigators, though historians frown on that aspect of her story. To this day, no person has been able to determine Miss Morgan’s true identity, or why she came to San Diego and if her death was a homicide, a suicide or a horrible accident. I will see to it that you have a full, albeit, brief summary of all these exhibits.”

The next display was one I recognized; it was a re-creation of the music parlor in Jesse Shephard’s mansion, Villa Montezuma, which was built in 1887. Shephard, renowned as a musician in his own right claimed to channel famous composers while he tickled the ivories on his piano. According to local legends, Jesse Shephard, while playing his piano, channeled Mozart on one hand and Chopin on the other.

The dual nature of Shephard’s ability drove him mad. I have to admit, I have toured Villa Montezuma and I found it unnerving and stifling in its dark nature, inside the home and outside on its grounds. I feigned a headache while I was on the tour, and cut my visit short. This display sent shivers up my spine. For now it was as close as I ever wanted to be in regard to anything associated with Villa Montezuma.

We continued to the last full-size display that depicted a young woman sitting at a vanity table, looking in the mirror. Frozen in time, her arms were raised to adjust the bonnet on her head. I gave this display no more than a secondary glance, until I read the title of the display. And now it was I who was frozen in time. I could not take my eyes off the young woman.

Greg asked, “What about this display of Andalyn Dixon has caught your attention?”

Chapter 4

I turned to face Greg and answered, “I was guarding her grave last night, in the company of Alex Blackthorne, at the event called Haunted Lit at Mount Esperanza Cemetery. I had never heard of Andalyn Dixon until last night, and here she is.” I pointed to the mannequin of her and asked, “Is this really what she looked like?”

“Yes, indeed. She was quite a lovely young woman. Our mannequin artist used photos of her from the advertisements of that era. She was the most popular millinery model of that time, in San Diego. Many photos of her exist.”

“May I get copies of the photos and other newspaper accounts or articles that you have?”

My question caught Greg off guard, he hesitated momentarily and then said, “Yes, I’m sure I can get them for you. However, please understand that we, the museum board, do not wish to highlight any one particular exhibit for the brochure.”

“My interest, in regard to Andalyn Dixon is strictly personal. I promise it will not interfere, nor intervene on my assignment. I hope that the museum board does not object.”

He smiled, but avoided a direct answer to my query. “Ah, yes, Alex Blackthorne did mention that you are quite good at digging into cold cases. So this is your angle, the cold case mystery of Miss Dixon?”

Now it was I who hesitated, “I’m not sure. But I am keen on following up on coincidences. And considering last night and now, this display, well, I feel I should at the very least give it a cursory look.” I sighed at my feeble explanation and then tried to clarify my reasoning. “Truth be told, Alex baited me with this cold case. I was determined to ignore it, but now, coming face to face with it, I cannot.”

Greg smiled. It appeared to me that he knew exactly what I was trying to convey. “In my experience, Alex Blackthorne knows exactly what he is doing. I doubt that his baiting was a coincidence. Shannon, by this afternoon, I will have copies of everything the museum has on file regarding Andalyn Dixon ready for you. I will personally see to it that the file is delivered to your home. You do still reside at Blackthorne Mansion Bed and Breakfast Inn?”

I had an ally in Greg Winslow. “Yes. And, if I’m not there, please leave the information with the innkeeper, Rosario Santiago.” Greg nodded affirmatively. And I made a mental note to myself, to make sure that Rosario knew to accept the materials and not to let anyone, especially Alex, know about my research into the mystery surrounding Andalyn Dixon.

“This is the last exhibit,” Greg said. “If you look to your right, you’ll see that we have made a full circle of the museum’s exhibit rooms, and we will now exit into the foyer, on the opposite side from where we entered. Any questions before we leave this room?”

I turned to survey this room one last time and noticed that directly across from the exhibit of Andalyn Dixon there was a small nook and the space was vacant. “Hmm, funny I did not notice that empty area over there.” I pointed to the vacancy.

Greg looked in that direction. “Thank you for pointing that out. I meant to tell you we have one display that has yet to be set in here. It is in the back room, still being renovated. It is an exquisite acquisition for the museum. But for now, it must remain a secret until the unveiling at our little gala party coming up this Friday evening. You did receive your invitation, I hope?”

I couldn’t help but to giggle, politely, at Greg’s tone of covert excitement. “Yes, I did. And I am very much looking forward to attending the exclusive soiree.”

Greg walked me out to the museum’s front exterior. We said our good-byes and he reminded me that the materials I requested would be delivered to my door later this afternoon. I strolled out onto a sunny sidewalk that was crowded with tourists and locals enjoying the many attractions in the Gaslamp Quarter. I walked back the same way I came, and just as I was passing the Horton Grand Hotel, a male voice called out my name. I turned and there on the corner, in front of the hotel was Alex. He crossed the street to catch up with me.

“I was hoping I would see you. I noticed your car parked over there. I parked next to it. Have you had breakfast?” he asked.

“No, I was going home, take a bite to eat there, maybe ask Rosario if she wanted to share an omelet with me.” I slowed my pace, but kept walking.

“Whoa, not so fast,” Alex reached out and caught me by my shoulder. “I was just about to sit down for breakfast, with Rosario. Join us, my treat. We have a table reserved at the Horton Grand’s restaurant.”

I stopped, flabbergasted by yet another coincidence, that just so happened to involve Alex, at the right time and place. “How do you do this?” I asked.

His handsome face darkened. “Do what?”

“Always, always, always, you are in the right place, and at the right time.” As soon as those words left my lips, I realized my comment sounded like an accusation.

“Rosario will tell you that we had this breakfast date on our calendars for several weeks. The Horton Grand is one of her favorite places, and in case you’ve forgotten, her birthday is in a few days, coming up this Saturday. Today was the closest day to her birthday that she could ink in.”

I felt like a jerk. I had forgotten that Rosario’s birthday was in a few days. “Oh no. Alex, I did forget. I’m so sorry. Of course I’ll join you two for breakfast. And thanks for the warning, at least I have time to get her a birthday gift.”

Alex took my hand as we crossed the street and then before entering the restaurant, he whispered in my ear. “Remember that Rosario is a bit sensitive about her birthday, it would be a good idea that we play this off as pure chance. My seeing you here and you joining us for breakfast.”