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With no available car and no plans for dinner, Gera spent the afternoon doing research. A slow internet connection made gathering what she needed that much slower. When she needed a break, she went down to the restaurant, ordered a snack, and went out to the terrace. A little fresh air and warm sunshine would do her good.
She tried to sort it all out in her head.
A town that believed in ghosts.
A town that blamed a ghost for a death.
A chief of police whose father-in-law was the victim.
A widow who might lose her house, because of a bank president many disliked.
A bank president whom she liked, and one who really liked her.
A sexy hotel owner she couldn’t resist.
An unknown enemy who stalked her, leaving her subtle threats.
A bartender who drugged her.
A town that believed in ghosts.
A town that blamed a ghost for a death.
As the loop played again in her head, Gera put her hands over her face and groaned.
“Is everything all right, dear?”
She jerked her head up in surprise. Minnie sat on the bench beneath the arbor, a smile upon her frail, wrinkled face.
“Minnie! When did you get here?”
“I’ve been here a few minutes, dear. You looked deep in thought, so I didn’t want to disturb you.”
“I’ve missed seeing you the last two days.”
“Yes, well, one morning I just couldn’t quite pull myself together,” the older woman admitted, with somewhat of a sheepish smile.
“I understand. That was my excuse this morning.”
“No worries, dear. We can visit now. So tell me, why do you look so deep in thought? Are you having trouble with your article?”
Gera’s laugh held no humor. “You could say that. I thought of a new angle, but it’s proving a bit more difficult than I imagined.”
“Anything I can help you with? You remember, I know a lot of the town’s history.”
“You certainly do. So, what can you tell me about Miles Anderson?”
“The chief of police? He’s a nice enough fellow, I think. Dedicated to his job. Has his hands full at the moment, trying to find the person responsible for the recent crime spree in town. And now poor Abe’s murder!”
“I didn’t realize until today that Abe was his father-in-law. I understand he’s still married to one of Abe’s daughters?”
“His only daughter, actually. Beverly Ruth. But they broke up years ago.”
“But I hear they didn’t divorce, so they’re technically still married.”
“I wonder if Peggy Running Branch knows that,” she mused aloud. “I understand she and Miles have been keeping time lately.”
The late afternoon sun beamed down on Minnie, illuminating her silvery cap of curls, making her pale skin almost glow, much as the moonlight had done to Anise.
“Would you like to sit over here, out of the sun?” Gera offered, motioning to the chair beside her. “That metal bench must be warm.”
“Oh, it is. Feels divine,” Minnie said dreamily. “Great source of energy, too.”
It was an odd response, particularly on a hot day like today, but maybe Minnie was particularly cold natured. She wore that shawl again, the one that wrapped around her shoulders like a giant bandage. Gera remembered Grams had gotten cold a lot, especially near the end.
“Do you know anything about Miles Anderson’s first wife?”
“Hmm, let me think. I believe... yes, he married a girl he went to school with. They weren’t married very long. She ended up pregnant.”
Gera looked at her friend in surprise. “He didn’t want children? So he divorced her?” Her opinion of the policeman rapidly deteriorated.
“I don’t know about wanting them, but I do know he couldn’t have them. He shot blanks, as they say. So when his young bride came up with child...”
“Oh. Oh, I see.” Now she felt sorry for the man.
“He married another girl a few years later, but she had her sights set on Hollywood. Their marriage lasted until a movie producer came to town. They were filming a show about the lost gold of Sycamore Canyon, and when he pulled out and went back to LA, she went with him. And then he married Beverly Ruth, and they had an on-again, off-again sort of marriage.”
“I suppose it’s currently in OFF mode again.”
“I suppose.”
“What’s that about gold?”
“You’re not familiar with the legend?” Minnie asked, her eyes twinkling at the prospect of telling a new story. When Gera shook her head in the negative, Minnie clapped her withering hands together and launched into her tale.
“It is said that in the 1500s, a Spanish Expedition came into Sycamore Canyon and mined for gold. They dug excavation tunnels and found a rich vein, carrying samples back with them to Mexico City. But they were denied access back into the region, and the mine fell idle. It was years before another expedition found the mine and tried again. Through the ages, many different explorers came, and mined, and were eventually chased away by hostile Indians. The Indians would hide the entrance to the mine, wanting to keep it for themselves. Early Indians mined the deposits here in Jerome, too, you know, but the vein in Geronimo’s Cave was said to be far better, and worth a great deal of money. In the 1870s, the Indians hid the mine entrance once and for all. People still come here today, trying to find the lost gold mine. Many get lost out in the wilderness. Some have even died.”
“And where is this canyon?”
Minnie raised her hand and pointed in the distance. “It’s in some of those magnificent red rocks yonder. Not far from here, only twenty miles, at most. It is a beautiful canyon, as much as seven miles wide at some points, and empties into the Verde River. A lovely spot, but it can be deadly, if you go deep into the wilderness.”
Gera smiled at the older woman. “I like your stories.”
“And I enjoy telling them, my dear. An eager audience is always appreciated.”
“Do you have any more?”
Her vivid blue eyes sparkled. “I have plenty of stories, my dear.”
A belated thought occurred to Gera. “I guess your gold story is what my friend Ramon was talking about. He said something about Frankie D and the hidden gold. Do you know who Frankie D was?”
“Of course. Franklin D. Roosevelt.”
“FDR, the president? He looked for the lost gold?”
“No, dear, this is another story altogether.”
“Can you tell it to me?”
Minnie hesitated for a moment. She glanced up at the sun, which already didn’t seem to burn as hotly as it had a few moments ago. She touched the bench with her curled fingers, testing it for warmth, and shifted her slight body, just enough to feel the full heat of the sun’s rays.
“All set,” she murmured, before adjusting her hands and beginning a new tale. “I don’t know if you keep up with government issues past and present, but one of the darkest eras for the American people came during the Great Depression. The stock market crashed, the dollar lost its value, and our president, FDR, issued an executive order in which he confiscated all gold and silver holdings in the United States.”
Gera frowned. “That can’t be right,” she started to object.
“It is, dear. You can find it in any library, any ogle search. Our president demanded that all citizens tender their holdings within fourteen days. Safe deposits at all banks across the country were immediately sealed, so that people couldn’t access their vaults without a federal agent present. People weren’t allowed to buy, sell, trade, move, or hoard their private holdings of gold and silver. The government confiscated it all.”
This didn’t sound like her government. “But, why?” Gera asked.
“To manipulate the economy. They paid people for their gold, of course, but in paper dollars. The dollar was immediately devalued, and the price of gold, which now belonged solely to the government, soared.”
“That’s an incredible story. I’ve never heard it before. Are you—Are you certain it is correct?” Gera asked carefully, afraid she might insult her friend. Minnie was getting older. Perhaps her memory failed her.
“Absolutely. Executive Order No. 6102, to be exact,” the older woman said with great clarity. She leaned slightly forward, her voice taking on a confidential hush. “But there’s more to the story.”
“Oh?”
“The mines here in Jerome didn’t produce just copper. There were substantial deposits of gold, silver, and zinc. A by-product, as it were, of excavating the copper. With the mining company’s focus on copper, they stockpiled the other metals aside, as incredulous as that may seem. And so, when the order came to relinquish all gold... well, some of those stockpiles disappeared.”
“Can I find this on Ogle—I mean, Google—as well?”
“Oh, no.” Minnie looked around, making certain no would could overhear their conversation. A lone couple sat on the tiered garden above, lost in one another’s arms. Minnie frowned and veered slightly off track. “There are perfectly divine hotel rooms just feet away,” the older woman murmured in disapproval. “Why must they behave so wantonly in public?”
“I think they assume they’re hidden,” Gera said, noting a flash of bare skin. Unconcerned with the couple’s exploits, she turned back to her friend. “What happened to the gold?”
Minnie looked uncertain again. Her eyes searched Gera’s face. It was clear she was deciding whether to trust the younger woman.
“I know you’re a reporter, Gera,” she said softly. “I know you’re looking for a story to tell. Nevertheless, what I’m about to tell you... There is more at stake here than merely selling an article, dear. Please, remember that. Please weigh the value of a salable story against the value of a family legacy. Perhaps against the value of life, itself.”
Her words seemed almost ominous. Gera leaned forward, her breath but a whisper in her lungs.
Minnie was still hesitant. “Can I trust you, Gera?” The older woman pinned her with her intense blue eyes.
It was the look in Minnie’s eyes, as much as the question itself, which gave Gera pause. Could she be trusted? She was a reporter. She researched stories. Dissected them, ferreting out what was truth, what wasn’t. That was what she did. Her curious mind demanded answers. Moreover, she made her living by sharing the best of those stories with the public.
So, could she be trusted?
Gera sucked in her breath. “I think so.” Her answer was stark and honest.
“I appreciate your honesty. And I’m counting on your integrity. Because I will tell you something, my dear. Many will say it isn’t so, but I know it for a fact, Gera. Much of that gold was hidden, right here on the mountain. And it remains hidden today.”
“But...”
“Very few people are privy to this information. As you might imagine, if this knowledge fell into the hands of the wrong people...” She stared into the distance, toward the fabled canyon, where adventurous men and women were willing to die in order to find the entrance to an ancient gold mine. Minnie need not say more. What might a greedy soul do to discover a hidden hoard of mined gold, more easily accessible?
“Why did you tell me this?” Gera cried in quiet dismay. “A story like this...”
“Knowledge is power, Gera. Knowledge often means the difference between life and death.”
What did that even mean? Gera’s forehead pulled together in a wrinkled seam.
Minnie recognized her distress. “I’ve overwhelmed you. I’m so sorry. Let me tell you another story, while I’m still able.”
Gera wasn’t sure her mind could absorb any more, but Minnie had already begun.
“I know you aren’t a believer, dear. You can’t understand an entire town openly embracing the idea of ghosts among us, of welcoming a connection to the spiritual world.”
“No, I can’t,” she agreed honestly.
“Some say it started with the Indians. If ever there were a people who were mistreated and misunderstood, it is the Native Americans. Have you been two hours north of here, to the Navajo Nation? No? Be prepared for heartbreak. Much of the land they were given is worthless, full of huge ravines and rock. Some believe the rocks are red because they’re soaked in the blood of our native ancestors. It is no wonder that their spirits still roam these hills, searching for peace.”
Gera struggled to keep an open mind. She wanted to understand. She would never believe, but perhaps, at the very least, she could understand. “What do the others say?”
“Do you know much about mining, Gera?”
Her shoulder lifted in a shrug. “I’ve seen movies. Been through a few museums.”
“It was hard, back-breaking work. And very dangerous. There could be a cave-in at any moment, burying men alive. A dynamite blast could go wrong, leaving men disfigured for life. These men knew the risks when they took the jobs. Still, when the job claimed a life, it was customary for the mining company to offer a bereavement package of three hundred dollars to his family, to pay for funeral expenses and the like. But times were hard, and people did what they had to do in order to survive. Most people took the money and invested it in a sure thing. Most opened their own brothel, the surest way to make a living in a mining town.”
Gera suspected there was more to the story. She took the bait. “Then how did they pay for the funeral?”
“I’m not saying it is fact, but rumor has it that they bypassed the funerals altogether. The smelters and kilns blazed day and night. Who’s to say that a body wasn’t tossed into the fire? It was a fast, convenient, no-cost method of disposal.”
Gera recoiled in disgust. “That’s horrible!”
Minnie shrugged, causing the lacy shawl upon her shoulders to bunch as surely as Gera’s face. “I’m not saying it’s true. But local lore has it that in time, the ashes of those men worked their way into the product. By century end, there was an ordinance that all buildings had to be made of brick or stone to combat fire. Many were reinforced with metals made here in the smelters. Some folks believe that, in a very real sense, the spirits of early miners are ingrained in our town’s very infrastructure.”
Gera stared at the woman in a mixture of fascination and horror. She finally found her voice. “That—That’s incredible.”
“With a history as rich and rowdy as Jerome’s, is it any wonder the spirits have trouble finding peace?”
“You said before that most spirits had missions to complete. Is that their mission, to find peace?”
“Perhaps. Perhaps some stay behind to protect their loved ones. Maybe they’re watching over them, or trying to relay a vital message to them. Perhaps they know a secret, or something that could make a profound difference in their lives.”
“Something like the hidden hoards of gold?” Gera murmured.
Minnie’s gaze was intense again. “Perhaps.”
They fell silent for a few moments. When Gera glanced at her friend again, she seemed paler than ever, and not as alert. The sun was sinking lower in the sky, beginning its evening decent. As the day lost its energy, so, it seemed, did Minnie. She seemed to be wilting, as surely as one of Gram’s prized roses. Gera remembered how the petals would curl into themselves at night, tucking aside the heat of the day for the coolness yet to come. Minnie seemed to do the same thing.
“Minnie? Are you feeling all right?”
“Mm, perhaps you could bring me a glass of water?”
“Certainly!” Gera jumped to her feet, eager to help. “I’ll be right back.”
Yet when she returned just moments later, the old woman was gone. The couple on the upper terrace hadn’t seen her. They hadn’t even noticed her talking with Gera.
Gera returned to the restaurant, searching for her friend. When she didn’t find her in the dining room or the restrooms, she dared stick her head into the kitchen. Someone suggested she check the back hall. Sometimes guests wandered the wrong way, they said, or tried to take the back stairway up.
She doubted Minnie was capable of taking the stairs, but it was worth checking. Gera found the hall beyond the kitchen easily enough, the one where the prostitute Penelope was murdered. The lighting was still dim here, as it had been the other night. But without Leo’s dramatic prologue, the space wasn’t nearly as eerie.
Until the lights went completely dark.
As blackness swooped in and filled the narrow space, causing the air to go stale and Gera’s feet to stumble, she thought she heard someone behind her. It sounded like a woman’s voice.
“Minnie? Minnie, is that you? Are you all right? Have you fallen?”
“Help me,” the voice whispered.
“Yes, yes, certainly. Where are you?”
“Family.”
“Do I need to call your family? How do I contact them?” Gera felt around in the darkness, trying to locate the other woman. She brushed along the floors, afraid her friend lay hurt or bleeding.
“I must protect them.” Her voice was fading, perhaps retreating further down the hall. Gera started after the voice, intending to follow. Somehow she stumbled, as if someone had shoved her, knocking her to the ground. By the time Gera struggled to her feet, the lights were again burning low and she was alone in the hallway.
She ran down the hall to the stairwell entrance. No one was there.
There were other doors along the hallway, ones she hadn’t noticed on the tour. Gera pushed on one and found it locked. The next one opened into the laundry room. A quick search revealed piles of dirty linens, but no people.
When she opened the third door, she was surprised to find herself in Lucy’s office.
“Why, it’s pretty little Gera. Come right in. Nerva and I were about to have tea. You can join us.”
“Uh, thanks, but I can’t stay. I was looking for a friend of mine. Seventy-ish, curly white hair, white shawl.”
Lucy looked at the empty chair across from her desk. “Nerva?”
Great. Lucy would recruit her imaginary friend to help Gera look. “That’s okay, I can see you’re busy,” she said hastily. “Thanks.” She hurried out and shut the door behind her.
Clearly, Minnie wasn’t in the hallway, nor in the restaurant. Most likely, the older woman had decided to walk home.
Gera should return to her room. Her mind was awhirl after Minnie’s stories.
And it was still several hours before ten thirty.
