Kimberly woke to brilliant sunshine slanting across her pillow. She peeled her eyelids open and blinked, groping for her cell phone. 8:03 a.m.
Her head throbbed as she pushed aside the blankets and forced herself into a sitting position. The golden rays streaming through the sheer white curtains indicated the storm had passed.
Coffee. She needed coffee. Badly.
She listened for any sounds from the other side of the wall that might suggest Sterling was up and around but heard nothing. Maybe he still slept. He could have been waking up in her bed right now. How close had she come to spending the night with him?
A quick shower revived her. While she dressed, she tried not to listen for his gentle knocking on her door. And she tried to pretend she wasn’t disappointed when no one knocked.
She joined her crew for breakfast in the dining room. No Sterling.
TJ stopped shoveling food into his mouth to bring a camera to her. “Ms. Wantland! Look!”
Michael stood. “TJ, let her have some coffee before you descend on her.”
Her junior camera operator’s crestfallen face melted her heart. He was clearly excited to show her something, and she loved his enthusiasm. “It’s okay. What is it? Go ahead and show me.” She grabbed a mug and quickly poured coffee, relieved to see a tiny pitcher of milk or cream and not the typical powdered creamer offered at most establishments. She would drink it black before adding corn syrup solids to her coffee.
TJ waited, nearly quivering with excitement, until she sipped from the mug. “Okay, watch the corner of the room.” He angled the camera so that she could see clearly and pressed PLAY. “Riiiight . . . there! See that? In the corner? Did you see the shadow?”
“I did. Just for a moment, but I saw it.”
“That was in my room! Well, mine and Stan’s. We had a ghost in our room!”
He replayed the recording. The diffuse shadow reminded her of the silhouette in her window. “Did you experience any disturbances? Hear any noises or notice anything had moved this morning?”
Stan, seated at the table, shook his head. “Slept right through it. Apparently slept right through quite the storm too. I went for a walk this morning. Leaves and twigs everywhere. Even saw a tree knocked down.” He crunched a bite of toast.
“Storms can bring out ghosts,” she said. “All that energy powers them.” The silhouette in her window had seemed so real. Had she been mistaken?
Michael whistled. “You’re going to be a huge help when that new baby comes along. You’ll sleep right through those nighttime feedings. I’m sure Melanie will appreciate that.”
“I’ll adapt. Always do.”
“How is Melanie?” Kimberly asked. “Everything okay?”
“She’s doing fine. I think she’s starting to worry about handling this without me though.” He cleared his throat. “We’re on the road a lot. And work nights.”
The gravity of his words settled on her. Could Stan be thinking about leaving? She hadn’t given any thought to the impact his wife’s pregnancy might mean for the show. But this would be an enormous change for them. And she couldn’t fault him for wanting to be with his wife and eventually the new baby. Melanie would need his help. Perhaps before the baby arrived. She couldn’t blame either of them. But still. The show. The silence in the room told her the rest of her crew was arriving at the same conclusion. She glanced at Michael. His furrowed brow indicated this was news to him.
TJ fiddled with the camera. “Well, I’ll leave the camera recording again tonight and see what else we get.”
“That’s fine,” an unfamiliar voice commented. “Just don’t run off any ghosts, okay?”
An older blonde woman entered the dining room, smiling and looking like she’d slept a full night. Kimberly envied the lack of dark circles under her eyes.
Michael jumped from his seat a second time. “Kimmy, this is Gloria, the current owner of Stone Lion. The woman Randmeier sent scrambling to accommodate us all.”
Gloria waved away his comments and held out a hand. “It was my pleasure to welcome you. Nice to meet you, Ms. Wantland. Love your show. Glad to have you all stay and enjoy my inn. Feel free to record all you want but please don’t scare the ghosts away.”
Kimberly shook her hand. “It’s a deal. I think the main investigation will require all my focus and energy. Have you experienced disturbances yourself?”
“I encounter spirits all the time. I have since shortly after I moved in. But they don’t disturb me. Mostly they just go about their business and want to be left alone.”
Rosie swallowed a last bite of blueberry muffin and reached for her glass of orange juice. “You sound so sure.”
“Oh, yes.” Gloria nodded vigorously. “I’ve seen the little girl. Pretty sure she climbed in bed with me once, though it may have been a different ghost.”
“What little girl?” Elise asked, pushing aside her empty plate. She peered at Gloria through her swooping cat-eye shaped glasses, pen ready.
“Augusta Houghton. Mr. Houghton had this home built in 1907 for his wife and their twelve children.”
“Twelve?” Michael choked on his coffee. “No wonder the place is so big.”
“Different time,” Gloria said. “Large families were normal back then. Particularly among farming families. They needed the extra hands to help in the fields.”
Kimberly watched Elise hunker over her ever-present spiral notebook, scribbling furiously. Why take notes on large farming families? she wondered as she savored another strawberry. That in no way helped with the Johnsons’ troubles. “But back to the little girl?”
“Yes! Augusta developed whooping cough. Unfortunately, someone administered the wrong medication and the little girl passed away as a result of the mistake.”
“That’s so sad. The mother must have been distraught,” Kimberly said. “And you feel you’ve seen the girl?”
“Definitely. I—”
Sterling walked into the dining room and scanned the faces gathered at the table. His brow crinkled as if in confusion. “Morning.”
Kimberly’s heart skipped a beat at the sight of him.
Apparently so did Gloria’s. The woman straightened her blouse and smoothed her hair. “Oh, my. He’s even better looking in person, isn’t he?”
Rosie helped herself to another muffin. “Most people think so.”
The grin on Rosie’s face and teasing twinkle in her eyes irritated her.
“Maybe it’s just that he’s standing right here. Goodness, he must work out. Look at those arms.”
Kimberly wasn’t sure which annoyed her more—the woman’s blatant panting and comments that Sterling surely overheard, or the fact that she felt exactly the same way about him. Why did she care if the woman noticed Sterling was attractive? Every woman on the planet seemed to find Sterling irresistibly hot. Nothing new. Yet, she felt something unfamiliar welling in her chest. Something painfully ugly and unpleasant that suggested she might consider scratching out Gloria’s eyes so the woman could no longer stare at Sterling like she wanted to eat him with a spoon.
Was she . . . jealous?
“If I was a decade or two younger,” Gloria sighed. “You’re a lucky woman, Kimberly.”
She shook the crazed nonsense out of her head. The tightness constricting her chest relaxed, and she smiled. “Thank you.”
“Who just knocked on my door?” Sterling asked.
The crew looked around the table.
“Kimmy was last to join us,” Michael said.
“Gloria came after me,” Kimberly pointed out. Had this horny old woman been knocking on his door?
“How long ago, Sterling?” Michael asked.
“Just now.”
“We’ve all been here at breakfast for some time. Did anyone go by Sterling’s room? Maybe knock on it?”
All heads shook.
“I don’t think I imagined it.” Sterling rubbed the back of his neck. “But maybe.”
“More likely it was Augusta,” Gloria said. “She does that.”
“Someone else in the house?” Sterling asked. “Housekeeping or—”
“No. The ghost of an eight-year-old girl.”
Sterling reached for coffee. “Ah.”
“I know, I know. You’re not a believer. I was just telling everyone about her. She’s one of our resident ghosts.”
“Hold on. I need some coffee. It’s too early to launch into ghosts without coffee.” He poured a mug and heaped a plate with scrambled eggs, ham, and blueberry muffins, then took the empty seat beside her. He eyed her plate and frowned. “Nothing but berries? That’s not enough food.”
She thought she heard all the females in the room give a collective sigh. He worried about her. Cared about her well-being. She had to admit it was rather nice. “I’ll have oatmeal in the trailer.” The oatmeal he’d given her last week along with other supplies he’d outfitted her trailer with.
He beamed. “That’s okay, then. I’m glad you like the snacks I got you. Add some walnuts too.”
She couldn’t handle the intensity in his eyes or the butterflies it sparked in her stomach. How could she eat anything with that fluttering thrill bordering on queasiness causing her stomach to turn flips? Glancing away, she sipped her coffee.
Sterling looked at Gloria. “You in charge here?”
“I’m the owner, yes.”
“Do you have skim milk?”
“Cream.”
He rested a hand on Kimberly’s shoulder. “She prefers skim. If I get some, can I keep it in a refrigerator somewhere?”
“Of course.”
“That’s not necessary, Sterling,” she said. “I don’t need any special accommodations. Look I used the cream. You don’t need to do that.”
“It’s no trouble. And I want you to be happy, not just content.”
“But, really—”
“I want to do it. Arguing will get you nowhere.”
Rosie raised an eyebrow and shot an I-told-you-so look of triumph across the table. Kimberly attempted to kick her but couldn’t span the distance. The old table was too big.
Gloria sighed. “Kimberling is a thing. Adorable. Are they always like this?” she asked Rosie.
“Pretty much. They’re a thing. They’re just not ready to admit it yet.”
She narrowed her eyes at Rosie but for once wasn’t really frustrated with her stylist. “You were telling us about the little girl who died here, Gloria.”
“Right! Eight years old. Whooping cough. Wrong medicine. Now, I didn’t know about that before I bought the place.”
“You renovated it into a bed and breakfast, right?” Elsie asked, bent over her notebook.
“That’s right. And I must’ve stirred up the spirits with the building modifications. I’ve learned that’s not uncommon.”
Sterling swallowed a bite of muffin. “And you believe a ghost knocked on my door? As opposed to one of the many living people present?”
“We were all here, dude,” TJ assured him. “Honest. I wouldn’t let anyone mess with you like that.”
“Thanks. I appreciate it.” Sterling returned his attention to Gloria.
“You can cock that skeptical eyebrow at me all you want,” Gloria said. “I used to be just like you. Didn’t believe in anything paranormal. And then I bought this place and moved in. I know what I’ve seen and heard.”
Sterling, his plate of food devoured, crossed his arms and leaned back. “What exactly have you seen and heard?”
“I hear her footsteps. She runs up and down the halls. Scampers up to the attic where my son’s old toys are boxed up. She used to get him in trouble scattering his things around his room after I’d told him to clean up. He’d swear he did and yet the toys were everywhere. What mom believes their child who swears he cleaned the room but someone else made it messy again? But eventually I saw it for myself. His room was clean when we left the house, but a jumbled mess when we returned. No one else in the house. These days I go upstairs and find the boxes upended, toys scattered. She knocks on doors. I’ve even had some guests report waking up to a little girl standing at the foot of their bed.”
Kimberly rested her arms on the table. “Is the little girl the only presence you’ve detected? Any other manifestations?”
“I’ve had guests tell me about an older man in a top hat smoking a pipe. Maybe Mr. Houghton? That’s my guess.”
TJ moved to the seat beside Gloria and held out his camera. “Who do you think this could be?”
Gloria took the camera and watched TJ’s recording. “Interesting. Did you see it in person? Hat? Pipe?”
“No, I was asleep.”
“Without further distinction, I can’t really say. But this could be Elmer McCurdy, the train robber.”
“Train robber?” TJ’s eyes widened.
Gloria laughed. “Don’t worry. He wasn’t much of an outlaw compared to others who roamed the area back then. He hijacked the wrong train. All he managed to do was steal a couple jugs of whiskey and forty-six dollars from the passengers. He escaped and hid in a barn, but a posse hunted him down with bloodhounds. He’d been drinking for days by then, using alcohol to dull the pain from pneumonia, tuberculosis, and trichinosis. He died in the shootout.”
“What an awful way to go,” Sterling said. “How old was he?”
“Only thirty-one.”
“And he died here at the inn?” Kimberly asked. “Or near here? Was the train passing through Guthrie?”
“No, he was hiding outside of Pawhuska. Place called Okasa, near Bartlesville.”
“Is that nearby?”
“Oh, no. Closer to Tulsa, really. His body was taken to the Johnson Funeral Home in Pawhuska.”
“I’m confused,” Kimberly said. “Why would he be haunting this inn? If he died nowhere near here his spirit shouldn’t reside here.”
Sterling leaned forward and propped one fist under his chin. He looked amused.
“The undertaker at the funeral home mummified him and—”
“Why would he do that?” Kimberly asked.
“No one claimed the body. He didn’t want to bury him until he was paid. But no one ever did. He wound up putting him on display in a corner of the funeral home and charging a nickel to see him.”
“How macabre,” Michael said.
No one in the crew moved. They’d all stopped eating, seemingly entranced by the grisly story.
“Gruesome,” Kimberly agreed. “But that doesn’t explain why he would now haunt this location.”
Gloria continued. Her voice had dropped, her tone somber, as though they all sat around a campfire telling ghost stories. “Elmer’s mummified remains were sold repeatedly, traveling around the country as a curiosity in various sideshows until people no longer realized it was a real body. The remains were presumed to be a prop. By the 1970s, Elmer’s body hung in a haunted house in an amusement park in California. While filming an episode of The Six Million Dollar Man, the crew moved Elmer and his arm broke off, revealing human bone and muscle. The remains were identified, and a descendant of the family brought him back here to Guthrie for a proper burial so his soul could rest in peace. The cemetery is just down the road.”
Kimberly’s brow furrowed. She squinted at Gloria. “And you think his spirit left the cemetery and wandered over here?”
Gloria, apparently accustomed to a more excited reaction to her story, frowned. “I thought Sterling was the skeptic.”
Sterling leaned back and crossed his arms, satisfied smile curled across his face. “I’m rubbing off on her.”
“No, it just doesn’t work that way. When a spirit is shocked from its physical body due to trauma or if a spirit is confused and not ready to leave this life, then it will remain where the body died. If Elmer is anywhere, he should be haunting the barn he died in.”
Sterling cocked one eyebrow. “Now wait a minute. Last week you decided a spirit traveled around with a piano.”
“Right. That spirit attached to the piano rather than the place of death. That is another relatively regular phenomenon.”
“So maybe Elmer’s spirit attached to the mummified corpse and traveled around with it. You can’t change the rules every week.”
“I’m not changing the rules. They’re the same rules. If we accept that the spirit did in fact attach to and travel with the mummified body, then the closest it would be is the cemetery. Not here at the inn.”
Gloria looked entirely too smug. “Some people think I disturbed the spirit. Some have accused me of black magic and dark rituals.” She paused and made eye contact with each person at the table. “Which is nonsense. But my dinner theatre does end at Elmer’s grave in the cemetery. Perhaps we intrigued him, and he followed us back one night. And decided he liked it here. Anything is possible.”
Sterling held his arms wide. “That’s right. Anything is possible. Anything at all.”
She gritted her teeth. “No. That’s not right. I—”
Michael stood and clapped. “We have footage to review for the actual investigation. Let’s go see what the cameras caught last night.”
Kimberly wasn’t ready to give up, but Michael was correct. She couldn’t waste time arguing something trivial when the Johnsons needed her help.