Pet Friendly (13 page)

CHAPTER 20

E
mma bolted out of her office and looked around.

“Who was that? What happened?”

Clifton was behind the desk, looking stunned.

“I'm not sure,” he said. “It seems to have come from the utility room.”

She stepped around the counter and saw Lupita running down the hall toward her, wide-eyed and babbling hysterically. Guests in the lobby scattered as the heavyset woman charged into their midst and collapsed in Emma's arms.

“Una fantasma,”
Lupita sobbed.
“En la lavandería. Lo vi. Lo vi.”

Emma glared at her front-desk staff. This was what happened when rumors got out of control. Lupita was the most levelheaded employee she had. If she was seeing ghosts, it wouldn't be long before the entire inn descended into chaos.

She helped the older woman to a chair and looked around.

“Adam, get Lupita a glass of water and stay with her until I get back. I'm going to go check out the laundry room.”

Emma patted the housekeeper's broad back.

“Stay here, Lupe. I'll be back in a minute.”

Frightened faces peered out from the guest rooms as Emma headed down the hall. When this was over, she'd have to go door-to-door and assure them that they were in no danger.

Unfortunately, Emma had not been the only person who'd heard Lupita's claim about a ghost, and as she turned the corner, she saw half a dozen people standing in the hall outside the laundry room, talking excitedly amid the noise from the open door. As Emma approached, she was dismayed to see that one of them was Gwendolyn Ashworth.

“Excuse me,” she said, pushing past.

The roar inside was daunting. Towels sloshed noisily in the washers and clean sheets tumbled in a row of miniature tornados, creating a turbulence that could be felt as well as heard. The floor was strewn with dirty linens that Emma instantly recognized as those that had been gathered from her cottage. Lupita must have just emptied them onto the floor, she thought, when the “ghost” appeared.

Dr. Richards loomed over the pile like a detective at a crime scene. Todd, squatting in front of him, was examining a small white blanket.

“Is that blood?”
Richards said, struggling to make himself heard above the din.

“It's pizza sauce.” Emma stepped forward and snatched the blanket out of Todd's hands. “What are you doing in here?”

“Looking for clues,” Richards said, indicating the pile in front of them. “Under the circumstances, we thought it best to get down here quickly.”

Emma glanced at Todd and his gaze slipped sideways. He didn't believe in ghosts, she thought. What was this all about?

She motioned for the two of them to follow her out of the room.

“I really wish you'd talked to me first before charging down here and scaring the daylights out of my guests.”

Richards looked around at the others.

“I'd hardly call this a stampede,” he sniffed.

She ignored him.

“Holding your convention here doesn't give you the right to snoop into every corner of the inn. There are guests here who have nothing to do with ghost hunting and they have a right to enjoy their stay without being disturbed by your so-called investigation. I've already given permission for a séance tonight, but until then, I'd prefer that you confine your inquiries to the areas we've set aside for your use.”

Richards tossed his head, sending the shock of white hair flying.

“As you wish. I suppose there's no reason for us to remain here anyway.”

He glanced around at the others.

“Even a rapid response can't guarantee a positive result, I'm afraid. Come along.”

Todd hesitated a moment, then shook his head and followed the others.

When everyone had left, Emma spent a few minutes going through the pile on the floor. There was nothing there that could even remotely have been mistaken for a ghost. Whatever frightened Lupita had existed only in her imagination.

The lobby was considerably quieter when Emma returned. Lupita was still in her chair, the glass of water clutched in her hand. Adam stood by, guarding her from Dr. Richards and his group, who hovered nearby, talking among themselves and darting hopeful glances at the housekeeper.

Quieter, however, did not mean calmer. Lupita's screams might have died down, but their effect was still very much in evidence. Looking around the lobby, Emma noted the tense, troubled looks on the faces of her guests and the forced, high-pitched laughter that substituted for genuine amusement. Even Clifton, who had remained at his post behind the front desk, appeared shaken.

“Don't tell me you've seen a ghost, too,” she whispered.

He shook his head. “No, but I think I may have heard one.”

“Oh, for pity's sake.”

Was everyone but her losing their mind?

Adam caught her eye and nodded.

“I heard it, too,” he said softly.

“Come on, you guys,” she said. “Don't start freaking out on me.”

The two of them exchanged a look and nodded their agreement, but it was clear they weren't convinced. Emma was about to explain the concept of a self-fulfilling prophecy when she heard a harsh scratching sound. It seemed to be coming from no place in particular and everywhere at once. Dr. Richards hurried over, a look of eager anticipation on his face.

“I believe we may have encountered another anomaly.”

Before Emma could stop him, Adam piped up.

“It started right after Lupe saw the ghost!”

People were beginning to crowd around them. Some looked apprehensive, but many seemed excited at the prospect of a supernatural encounter.

“Don't panic,” Emma said. “It's probably just a raccoon in the crawl space.”

There was a loud thump overhead, followed by a low rumble that was almost a growl. Everyone stared at the ceiling. Lupita crossed herself and Adam paled. Emma gave the two of them a determined smile, hoping they would take the hint. So what if they'd heard a strange noise? The inn was
supposed
to be haunted, right?

She heard footsteps approaching and saw Lars Van Vandevander bustle into the room with Viv and the steering committee trailing behind like ducklings. Smiling broadly, he began canvassing the room, gathering details from the SSSPA members who'd witnessed the encounter and congratulating them on their good fortune.

Viv detached herself from the group and wandered through the lobby, the bells on her shoes jingling softly as she touched the walls and furniture. Every few steps, she stopped and closed her eyes as if listening for something, then opened them and continued on. When she'd covered the entire room, she walked back to her husband and whispered something in his ear.

What was that all about?
Emma wondered.

Dr. Richards joined them and the Van Vandevanders spoke quietly to him for a few seconds more before consulting the other committee members, who nodded in agreement. The professor straightened up and clapped his hands.

“May I have your attention, please?” he said, addressing the room. “What you have just witnessed is further evidence of the paranormal outpouring which commenced here last night. Fortunately, we have among us a highly sensitive medium in my wife, Vivienne. Based upon her vibrational readings, we believe it is crucial that we open a dialogue with these manifestations as quickly as possible. A confluence like this is quite literally a once-in-a-lifetime occurrence. I'm sure that none of us wants to see it wasted.”

Emma shook her head. What was he thinking? They couldn't hold the séance now. The Energy Room had already been set up for Lars's lecture; it would take time to restage it for the séance. She hurried over and pulled him aside.

“I thought we agreed to wait until after your lecture, Professor.”

“Impossible,” he said. “There's no time to lose.”

“But the Energy Room isn't set up for a séance.”

“We won't be using the Energy Room,” he said. “We'll be using the Spirit Room as we originally planned.”

Lars's face had taken on a stubborn cast, and the rest of the committee members looked as implacable as he did. Emma glanced back at the front desk, hoping her assistant manager might back her up in the face of their opposition, but Clifton was no longer there.

“All right,” she said, feeling defeated. “I'll send someone down to help you set up the room.”

“Wonderful!” Lars said. “You won't be sorry, believe me. This will be a night to remember.”

CHAPTER 21

T
odd and Gwendolyn had finished their dinner in relative silence. Gwen tried to make a brief pitch for a friend of her father's who wanted to help Todd “take his apps to the next level,” but when it became clear that he had no interest in pursuing it, she confined herself to polishing off the eighty-dollar bottle of Shiraz. Todd, meanwhile, sat glumly pushing food around his plate as the tables around them emptied. Since the incident in the laundry room, every scratch, bump, or other odd sound at the inn had been attributed to ghostly presences, and the general consensus was that it was better to be with the experts at the séance than to take one's chances alone in a hotel room.

Todd's mood had sunk from merely sad to despairing. Gwen was too drunk to drive, and when he'd inquired at the front desk, they told him there were no other rooms available. For the time being, at least, he was stuck with her. He paid the check and set his napkin on the table.

“Why don't we skip the séance?” he said. “I'd rather turn in early.”

“But I want to go,” Gwen whined. “Why do you have to be so mean?”

“I'm not being mean. I'm just tired.”

“What is with you? We get engaged and the next thing I know you've turned into this massive buzzkill. Why did you even give me a ring if you were going to be like this?”

“I didn't give you that ring,” he muttered. “If our suitcases hadn't been switched, you'd never have known about it.”

Gwen drew her left hand to her chest and clutched it like a miser with a gold coin.

“That's not true! You left it in there for me to find.”

Todd knew he should leave it at that, but having finally said something true and honest to her, he found he couldn't stop.

“And another thing,” he said. “I'm not interested in driving myself into an early grave like my father did, so please stop badgering me to start another company. I've made it; I'm doing well; I need a rest.”

Gwen's eyes narrowed.

“This is her fault, isn't it? You think if you hook up with her again, you'll be able to recapture your ‘lost youth' or whatever.”

Todd had to think about that. Was seeing Emma again what had caused his change of heart? Coming back to the Spirit Inn had certainly reminded him that a simpler, more balanced life was possible, but that had been a dream of his for years, something that until recently he'd been sure that Gwen wanted, too. But if it wasn't Emma's doing, then what was it?

He smiled as the truth dawned on him.

Archie, whose carefree life with Uncle Bertie had been the opposite of the oppressive grind Todd had been putting himself through and which Gwen expected him to continue indefinitely; a happy little mutt who wanted nothing more than to make people laugh and smile and cheer him on; the sweet and loving animal that Gwen had ordered Todd to get rid of.

Archie had led him back to the one place where Todd could see who he might have become if he hadn't lost his father when he did. Maybe it was just a coincidence, but it was still pretty remarkable.

Gwen's look was contrite. She reached across the table and touched his hand.

“I'm sorry,” she said. “I should have realized you weren't ready to start another company. You know how Daddy is, always a million deals going in his head. And as far as the ring goes, maybe I should have asked you about it first. It's just that when I saw it, I mean, it was the one we'd seen at the jeweler's and I—”

He shook his head. “No, no. Of course you'd just assume . . .”

Todd felt like a heel. He'd been making the assumption that Gwen wouldn't be interested in a simpler life, but had he ever really asked?

“Losing Uncle Bertie was really hard for you,” she said. “And then with Archie running away like he did, I'm sure you were super stressed-out.”

“You're right.” He nodded. “Thanks for understanding.”

“So, come on,” she said. “Let's go to the séance. We can sleep in late and still have plenty of time to get the little pooch to Claire's house.”

Todd just stared at her. Nothing had changed, he realized. Gwen was still pushing her own agenda with no thought as to what he wanted. He pulled his hand away.

“No. You can go by yourself if you'd like, but I'm not going.”

“Why not?” she snapped, her face reddening.

“Because,” he said, “I'd just feel silly sitting there, pretending that something spooky is going on. There are no such things as ghosts.”

“The maid saw a ghost in the laundry room and something was scratching inside the walls. How else do you explain
that?
”

Todd had been pondering that himself.

“A tree branch rubbing against the siding or a raccoon in the crawl space could make that kind of noise. You don't need a ghost to explain it.”

“What about the laundry room? The maid said a ghost appeared right in front of her.”

Gwen was halfway out of her chair, her voice barely softer than a shout. Todd struggled to remain calm.

“She'd just dumped everything out on the floor,” he said. “There could have been a pocket of air inside; maybe a draft blew the blanket and she thought it moved.”

“Or maybe it was the spirit of the man in the walls,” Gwen said. “Just like Dr. Richards told us.”

“Okay,” he said. “What if that were true? Richards claims the ghost is tied to the inn, but Emma said the housekeeper had just brought those things in from her place. If there was a ghost in those things, it had to have come from there. And believe me, there's no ghost living in Emma's cottage.”

The answer struck Todd with the force of a hammer blow. Lars and Viv had told him the first encounter was on the same night that Archie had turned up at the cottage. Lars had described it as a low moan or keening, but a sound like that could as easily have come from a lost dog. Todd knew that Archie had been getting out of the cottage, too, and was probably responsible for at least one other encounter—the stolen sandwich he'd been eating in the bushes. If Dr. Richards was right and there were hidden passages in the inn's walls, wasn't it possible that Archie had found his way into them without being seen?

“I have to go,” Todd said. “You head down to the Spirit Room and I'll meet you there in a few minutes.”

He stood and headed for the exit.

“Wait a minute,” Gwen yelled after him. “I thought you said you were too tired to go to the séance.”

 

A thin layer of ice crunched under his feet as Todd ran down the path toward the cottage. Emma said that Jake had replaced the lock on her door just that morning, and Archie had been inside when Todd had seen him last. That meant the little dog was still there when the housekeeper went in to fetch the laundry. Had Archie somehow gotten out without the housekeeper seeing him? Todd dearly hoped not. If he had—and if the ghost hunters discovered it was a dog they'd been chasing, not a ghost—Emma could be in a lot of trouble.

As he drew closer, Todd found himself praying that Archie would be inside. Even though it meant that it would be harder to come up with a simple, rational reason for the encounters the ghost hunters had been experiencing that weekend, it would still be preferable to confirming that the little dog was to blame.

The Van Vandevanders, at least, knew that Todd and Emma were old friends. How much of a leap would it be for them to conclude that the two of them had decided to turn Archie loose on the property, hoping that a trained circus animal would be capable of getting into all sorts of out-of-the-way places and making his presence known? And if they did that, the fallout for Emma might be disastrous. Like anyone else, the ghost hunters would be quick to anger if they thought they were being made fun of.

The front door was locked. Todd peered through the windows; Archie wasn't on the pillow Emma had given him or anywhere he could see.

He tapped on the pane.

“Archie? Archie, you in there?”

Todd cupped his hands around his eyes, trying to cut the glare from the porch light. He saw no movement inside the cottage, no fleeting shadow that would indicate the presence of a small dog. In a last-ditch effort, he banged on the front door and yelled Archie's name, then peered through the window again.

Satisfied at last that his dog was not inside, Todd turned and headed back up to the inn. It was time to give Emma the bad news.