Page 17 of The Wedding Party

I force myself to leave the man behind.

My return to the table of women in the bar comes with a pleasant surprise. Natalie is gone and two other women, both nurses and quite welcoming, are present. It’s almost as if Natalie left when I left. That strikes me as interesting. Another thing that’s interesting is how much more fun the table seems to be having with Natalie gone, Carrie included.

At present, everyone is comparing ghost stories. “No ghostly cowboy staring at me from the foot of my bed as promised,” Lana says. “Not that I’ve really been in the bed so far.” She snorts. “Actually, I’ve not done a lot in bed lately.” Everyone laughs and she adds, “I’d rather have a real-life cowboy anyway.”

“At least a ghost won’t ask for commitment,” one of the women, whom I now know as Bianca, offers. Bianca, I’ve learned, works in the ER with Lana and Carrie. She’s proudly Hispanic and undeniably beautiful, with a big dose of kindness.

“Sounds like an eternal commitment to me,” Lana replies. “And no, thank you. I didn’t make it five years with the last man.”

Everyone laughs and Carrie says, “Some Lord Dunraven, who used to own land where the hotel sits, is supposed to live in my room, but it’s been silent as well. We’ll see if that lasts.”

“Me and Bianca are in 418, where children are supposed to laugh and play,” another woman, Sally, offers. Sally sports a dark bob and glasses, giving off a distinctly schoolteacher vibe. “Since I work in prenatal care, I’m all in on that, but we’ve seen and heard nothing.”

“Wrong,” Bianca says. “Footsteps. We heard footsteps.”

“It’s a hotel,” Sally argues. “Of course we heard footsteps.”

Bianca spurts out something in fast Spanish and then says, “We heard footsteps where there is no upper level above us. There’s an overhang. It’s insane.”

Carrie looks at me. “What about you? How is Stephen King’s room?”

“I’m not sure what inspired him to write The Shining in that room,” I say, sipping my martini, feeling the most relaxed I’ve been since we arrived. “It’s quiet, and the ghost that is supposedly in the room is a sweet, tidy housekeeper. If she shows up and cleans up, I can’t really go wrong.”

Laughter erupts around the table, and Carrie glances at her watch. “Oh, it’s time for the tour. Let’s go, ladies.” She waves at the table. “Drinks are paid for.”

Everyone murmurs our appreciation as the group makes its way into the lobby before being directed to a special room where the tour will begin. We end up in a small theater-type room, where we all claim random seats. The women have only just settled in when a group of about ten men joins us, and Lana starts pointing out groomsmen and random friends of the groom.

“There’s the groom,” she says, pointing as Carrie greets a tall, familiar man. The man from the hallway by my room.

My mind travels back to the talk about haunted rooms. Carrie said specifically that she and Oliver are in a room on the fourth floor. Oliver was on my floor, the second floor. Of course, there are explanations. He could have been meeting his sister, who left the bar before I returned. He could have been meeting a friend or business associate who is also a friend and arrived at the room sooner than they did.

There are many reasons he could have been there.

But none of those reasons fit his mood when I found him in the hallway. None of those reasons feel right.

Chapter Fifteen

Our tour guide gives a little speech that includes a short clip from Stephen King’s The Shining before we are off to see the ghosts. We start at the concert hall, where we’re told that one of the property ghosts can sometimes be heard playing the piano, while another tells you to “get out.” There are other random little happenings, like orbs floating about, or so they say. None of those things happen to us, but as the tour guide turns out the light and has us stare into some mirror and hunt for orbs, the hair on the back of my neck stands on end. It’s a little freaky. Especially since the lights come back on and Oliver is standing in front of me.

I actually jolt, and he laughs. “Sorry. My turn to say that I didn’t mean to scare you. We met in the hallway earlier, right?”

“We did,” I say. “You were a little distressed.”

“Yes,” he chuckles. “I suppose I was. I’m here to focus on fun, and my wife-to-be and a work situation have been haunting me instead of the ghosts of the Stanley Hotel.”

“Because there are no ghosts,” I whisper conspiratorially.

“And now you’ve gone and angered the ghosts,” he warns. “They will most certainly visit you tonight.”

“Hmm. You could be right. But at least I can go home and say the ghost stories are real. And I do have my gun, though I doubt it works on ghosts.”

“Right,” he says, waving a finger. “You’re the FBI agent I heard about, then, right?”

As if he didn’t know this already, I think, but I perform well and groan. “The FBI agent wishing she told everyone she was a schoolteacher. I’m trying to escape that world right now.”

“Really?” he asks. “Why is that?”

“I have a big case that’s in the news, and it just won’t go away. Lana and I went to school together. She suggested I join you guys out here to get away from it all. I hope that’s not a problem.”