Page 16 of All You Want
She goes for the Iron Stomach Chili, and I have to settle for the Lean-But-Not-Mean Chicken Caesar Salad.
Being on a perpetual diet sucks, but my belly and hips are a magnet for fat cells, and I have to budget calories the way Ebenezer Scrooge pinches pennies.
Molly doesn’t open up until well into her second drink paired with a rich lava bomb chocolate fudge cheesecake.
Not fair when I’m chewing on ice cubes.
She licks her chocolate spoon and eyes me with a smirk. “You ever wonder why Todd never gives you speeding tickets?”
“I figure he’s an old softie. Gives warnings but doesn’t like to arrest anyone. What I want to know is if he told you why he’s denying my permit.”
“I think he’s jealous of Evan. Doesn’t want him to have a big opening night.”
“Why should he be jealous of Evan? I’m the owner of Hallowed Haunts Hotel, and he should want me to have a successful grand opening. We’re going to have a film crew, a ghost-hunting adventure, and every guest is guaranteed an encounter.”
“Really? How will you pull that off?” Molly finishes her cheesecake with lots of lip smacking.
“It’s top secret.” I twirl my hair, a nervous habit. “The Bee Sting Bordello was home to quite a few notorious painted ladies, and Madam Goldilocks wasn’t the best manager. The result was a lot of turnover, crime, and quite a few love stories.”
“Quite a few murders, too,” she says. “You’ve heard of Ma Belle, haven’t you?”
“She passed through these parts.” The feeling of ants walking across the back of my neck gives me the shakes. “Ma Belle was rumored to be a French lady by way of New Orleans, but she’d as soon slit your throat as serve you a cuppa sweet tea.”
A cup of poisonous tea, I refrain from adding. Which is why I’m a coffee drinker. No tea for me. No thank you.
“She left quite a trail of spurned lovers who still haunt these parts—the walking dead.” Molly sloshes her drink and tinkles the glass against my ice water. “How about Pickaxe Polly? Think what she could have done if she had a chainsaw instead of that bloody old axe.”
“I just thought of something,” I exclaim. “I can add the sound of axe thuds to her haunt effects.”
“I like it. Haunt effects. What are they exactly?”
“Recordings of squeaky doors, footsteps, chain dragging sounds, windows opening and closing on their own, the usual.”
Molly’s eyes gleam with interest. “Are you hiring people to play back the sounds?”
“Yes, Evan’s recording voice actors and actresses to tell the stories of the residents.”
“You mean of the ghosts who’re still hanging around?” She leans forward with an eager smile. “I studied theatre in community college. I was pretty good at it.”
“We already have the voices of the historical figures. Evan’s reusing the ones he created for his TV series.”
“No, no, no. You need to change things up.” She talks so fast, spit flies from her lips. “If the tourists report the ghosts saying the same things, then they’ll call your place a fraud. I’ve seen these ghost adventures, and if you want to spook people for real, you have to get personal. Find out about them, and then have the ghost mention their great uncle Ned and how he died or tell the location of a family heirloom.”
“That’s true, but it would require too much research.” The wheels start turning in my mind. “But then, you have a point. I can look through social media and say something vague, mentioning an event from their past.”
“Awesomesauce.” Molly slams her fist on the table. “I’m a pro at internet research. You give me the guest list a week in advance, and I’ll personalize their haunt effects.”
“Oh, goodie!” I clap my hands and bounce on the squeaky vinyl padding on the booth. “We’ll make such a big splash on the weekend my HEX sisters are booked. They’ll spread the news and put Hallowed Haunts on the map as the world’s greatest Gold Rush ghost adventure ever. Which is why Todd absolutely must approve more guests, including campers and trailers. We can even have a mock cemetery full of fake gravestones for the trailer hookups and put speakers and haunt effects in there, like knocking on the gravestones, fingernail scratch sounds, the works.”
“Then you have to find some way of bribing him to up the number of guests,” she says brightly.
“Me?” I flutter my hand over my chest, acting innocent. “It’s not like all the food I bring works. He still denied my permit.”
“Approved for ten guests isn’t denied.” She sucks on the cherry that came with her cheesecake. “Todd doesn’t want the traffic and crime that comes with a big gathering. Your stunt with the selfie contest caused a backup all the way to the interstate. He got a complaint from the fire chief—”
“I wish his brother, Scott, was still the chief. That guy’s cool. He would have approved my permit.”
“Scott’s freaky. Always disappearing. I hear rumors he’s out there chasing female entities—not ghosts, but real flesh and blood.” Molly cranes her neck to get the attention of the waitress.
