Black Raven Inn: A Paranormal Mystery (Taryn's Camera Book 6) (20 page)

T
aryn was roasting in the sweltering heat
. She was so hot she’d removed her sweater, kicked off her shoes, and tied her Rodney Crowell T-shirt in a knot by her bellybutton–something she hadn’t done since high school.

She might have had a fever. They were having a weird hot spell, with temperatures soaring into the mid-eighties, but it still didn’t explain the sauna that Room #5 had become. It usually ran at least ten degrees colder inside than it did out there where Aker was waiting for her.

Her phone beeped and Taryn glanced down at it. It was Matt. “P.B. became paranoid in the last few weeks of his life. Friends said he thought the FBI was after him.”

Taryn sent a quick reply then returned to the canvas. It wasn’t unusual for famous people to start feeling paranoia. The paparazzi, as it was now, wouldn’t have been the same for Parker but that didn’t mean people weren’t still watching him, observing him. Not only had he been famous himself, but he’d run in circles with even bigger celebrities and the press had tailed them.

Taryn reached down and took a big swig of water from a water bottle she’d started carrying around. She’d been locking herself in the room for a week now, working on the painting. In that time she’d found herself craving liquids, a thirst so deep she could never really get enough. At first the thirst had only hit her while she was in the room. After the first two days, however, it had followed her home. She was spending too much money on Coke and Mountain Dew, sometimes going through an entire twelve pack by supper. She’d turned to juice, but upon discovering that she could tilt it up and down the whole half gallon in less than an hour she’d moved on to water.

She wasn’t hungry, she was barely eating at all, but she couldn’t get enough to drink. Her insides felt like a desert.

“Ahhhh,” she sighed with relief, before taking another swig. The water was still ice cold. She wondered how it was able to keep its coolness surrounded by such heat.

The mirror on the wall flickered, catching her eye. Taryn turned and studied it. Things like that had been happening all day. At first she thought it was the bulbs in her spotlights going out but she never saw them waver. It was definitely something in the mirror.

Taryn slowly walked towards the glass and placed her hand on the surface. Her pale reflection gazed back at her. She thought she’d lost weight. Her eyes looked big and sunken into her face, her lips dry and thin. She was tired because she hadn’t been sleeping well.

The glass under her hand burned from the heat. It occurred to her that, once again, she was looking into an object that had acted as guard and reflection for that room for decades. How much had it seen? How much did it know? Were the actions of the past still trapped in it somehow, forever replaying their sequence over and over again?

“How much do you know?” she asked it.

Something in the glass shimmered, as if in reply.

When Taryn returned to her painting she bent over again and grabbed the water bottle. Sweat rolled down her face and dripped from her hair.

She’d have to wear something more lightweight tomorrow.

“
Did
Ruby
say anything about Parker being a hoarder?” Matt asked.

Taryn paused and looked up from Miss Dixie. She was busy cleaning her lens while she had her nightly chat. “A hoarder? No, nothing like that.”

“I found a kind of obscure interview from a few years ago,” he told her, “done with one of the other guys. It was about his new album and in the middle he threw in something about Parker’s house in California being ‘unhealthy’ and a ‘mess.’ There’s a picture of a bathroom here, with the sink and tub kind of covered with shampoo bottles, bath gel, all kinds of stuff. You can’t see any surface.”

“That’s kind of weird,” Taryn replied. “I always thought of Parker as kind of nomadic. I wouldn’t have thought he was someone who didn’t get rid of things.”

“Well, maybe there at the end that’s just what started happening,” Matt mused. “He could’ve been sick in a lot of ways.”

Back in her own apartment, she was finally able to cool off. In fact, she was even a little chilly. Going from hot to cool was going to make her sick, she just knew it. She seriously needed to stock up on some vitamins and fresh fruit and vegetables. Stuff like bananas and apples and kale. Spinach. Fruit rollups and spinach and artichoke flavored chips weren’t going to count. Unfortunately.

“Hey, I’m not feeling too well,” Taryn began.

“EDS stuff?”

“Nah, I think I’m coming down with a cold or something like that. It’s this weather. But I was wondering if you knew some foods or supplements I could add to my diet to boost my immune system. Maybe some recipes? Something that’s going to go easy on my tummy,” Taryn added, “since it’s a little fragile at the moment.”

“You still throwing up?” Matt asked in concern.

“Yeah, but not as often,” Taryn lied. Truthfully, she was still vomiting at least once a day. Sometimes more.

“I’ve got some recipes I can send you,” Matt said. “Some easy things I think you can make.”

“Are you making fun of me?” Taryn demanded, only half joking. While it was true that Matt loved cooking, and considered himself an experienced and talented chef, she could actually cook as well–and cook
well
. Matt forgot that. A lot.

“No, no, no,” he sang. “I just thought that if you were feeling poorly you’d probably rather have something that didn’t take a lot of time and effort to prepare.”

“Yeah, well…” She couldn’t exactly argue with logic like that.

“Are you chilled?”

“No, actually feeling hot,” Taryn replied.

“Fever?”

“I thought I did but I checked it as I’ve been talking to you and it’s fine. A little on the low side at 96, but that’s my normal.”

“Cough? Stuffy nose? Aches and pains?” he pressed.

“Yes and no, Dr. Matt,” she laughed. “Some drainage, a bit of a cough, and I have no idea if there are any new aches and pains or not.”

“Good point. It’s probably just a cold; your system could be going haywire from the weather changing like it is.”

“At least the room I’m working in is warm. It was so cold in the beginning. I guess maybe the heat finally kicked in or something because now I can hardly stand it. It’s like being in a sauna. And it makes me so thirsty.”

“At least it’s a dry heat,” Matt said.

Taryn snorted. “’Dry heat?’ Have you ever stuck your head in an oven? That’s dry heat too. Lack of humidity of not, it’s still
hot
.”

Matt chuckled and began telling her about his day and his students. Before he hung up he returned the conversation to Parker. “The hoarding reference is the only thing I’ve come across so far that’s new–something that hasn’t been written about over and over again already. All most people want to write about is his death in that hotel room.”

Matt said this last part in distaste. He wasn’t big on public displays of attention or notoriety. Although he knew that what went on with Taryn wasn’t her fault, and that she didn’t invite media attention in when they picked up her stories, he had trouble sometimes receiving the attention by proxy. The idea of someone continuously writing about his sudden, tragic death for decades to come probably filled him with trepidation–and
not
the kind Taryn got from her adventures with the undead.

“I appreciate your help, dude,” Taryn said as a reply. “I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again…you kind of missed your calling as a private investigator.”

“There’s one more thing, though,” Matt began with a hint of hesitancy.

“What’s up, buttercup?”

“Aker. This guy who’s acting as your security detail?”

“Yeah, I know who Aker is…”

“How much do you know about him?”

“Little to nothing,” Taryn admitted. “He’s apparently been around for a long time, though. He worked for Ruby and Parker back in the day. I think he might feel guilty that he wasn’t there when Parker overdosed.”

“Well, apparently some people thought he was there,” Matt said slowly. “Years later his wife, or ex-wife now I guess, came forward and said that he wasn’t home with her that night. She’d lied to give him an alibi.”

Taryn felt unease settle in around her collar as she thought of Aker in his dark sunglasses and tight muscles, bald head reflecting the sunlight, book in hand. They were starting to feel a little more comfortable around each other but had not developed a friendship of any kind. He tolerated her, more or less.

“Do you think he was there at the hotel with Parker when he overdosed?” she asked.

“I hope not,” Matt replied. “If he was, then why didn’t he call the police?”

Why, indeed?

L
enny Parsons opened Ruby’s door
, barefoot and disheveled. It was 6:00 pm and the sky was graying with the impending darkness, but he looked like he’d just woken up.

“Hey, Karen right?” he asked, stepping aside to let Taryn walk through the door.

“It’s Taryn, actually,” she replied as she walked into the dimly lit foyer. She was torn between feeling prideful enough to correct him and flattered that he was at least close.

“Sorry, Taryn,” he said absently.

Taryn followed him through the house to the back, where sliding doors welcomed them to a beautifully landscaped patio. Ruby sat on the flagstones, two rambunctious puppies rolling around in her lap and licking her face. Her black yoga pants were covered in dog hair, her red cotton T-shirt stained, and her hands damp from dog slobber. She looked positively happy, though, as she fussed the two yapping Pomeranians and occasionally reached up to brush her tangled hair from her face.

“Sorry Taryn,” she apologized. “I’m fostering these little guys and they’re pretty excited to be here.”

“I can see that,” Taryn smiled. “They’re pretty cute.”

Taryn sat down on the ground with her, a few feet away. With a new audience, the puppies bounded with glee towards her, falling over each other as they raced to see who would reach her first. She soon found herself under a blanket of dogs, coarse little tongues leaving a trail of kisses over her neck and cheeks.

“They’re, uh, excited,” Taryn laughed as she grabbed one under one arm and one under the other and attempted to quiet them. They looked from Taryn to Ruby in adoration, as though they couldn’t believe their good fortune.

“I foster them when I can, when I know I’m not going to be on the road for awhile,” Ruby explained. “I like having them around. Lenny’s not much of a fan though, are you?”

Lenny plopped down in an outdoor chair and cracked open a bottle of Belgium beer. He knocked back half the bottle in one swill then belched under his breath. “Nope.”

Ruby rolled her eyes. “He’s not into puppies or babies,” she confided to Taryn.

“Don’t tell the fans,” he grinned. “It will hurt my image.”

Taryn remembered a popular poster, sold in the electronic sections of some big-box stores, of Lenny sitting under a tree with a litter of puppies frolicking at his feet. She could only imagine the number of women that pestered him into posing with their toddlers and infants at autograph sessions.

She wondered what other uncomfortable positions entertainers put themselves in for the sake of marketing.

“So how’s that old dump treating you?” Lenny asked. “It’s been years since I was inside that old thing.”

“Well, it’s old,” Taryn replied. “And not in very good shape.”

She didn’t want to complain about its condition too much, at least not in front of Ruby who was both her employer and had a sentimental attachment to it. It felt rude.

Lenny snorted. “Should tear it down. Don’t know what the hell Stretch here is doing with it. She obviously needs a hobby.”

Taryn glanced over at Ruby, who listened but wasn’t reacting. Ruby was now propped back on her hands, her long legs stretched out in front of her. Taryn was mildly surprised that Ruby had not shared her true intentions with Lenny but had with her. Then again, she was learning that some people had trouble talking about the paranormal with others, even those they’d known most of their lives. It wasn’t easy admitting that you believe in ghosts, much less that you were looking for them, when you weren’t sure if the person you were talking to was going to ridicule or support you.

“I’ve been working on the room,” she offered to Ruby. “I just wanted to stop by and give you an update. I had to take a few days off for my health but I’ve been making them up and should still make the deadline.”

Ruby smiled sweetly and waved Taryn’s concerns away. “It’s fine. You have you have to take care of
you
.”

“I’ve enjoyed looking at some of the pictures and posters and things people have left in his room,” Taryn said. She’d actually come there to talk to Ruby about what was going on, but no longer felt comfortable doing so with Lenny’s presence.

“People always did like going there and saying their goodbyes,” Ruby agreed. “Used to be that they’d stock the room with real memorabilia, like a toothbrush he left hind or a letter he’d sent to the motel and stuff, but then people just started stealing them. A little morbid if you ask me.”

“Poor old Parker,” Lenny grunted. “People never will let him go. The guy’s dead. Everyone just needs to move on.”

Ruby stiffened and Taryn instantly felt sorry for her. The implication was clear; Ruby was the one who needed to “move on.” Taryn had heard it all before after Andrew died…

At least he’s in a better place…

God needed another angel…

Now he’ll always be able to watch over you from Heaven…

You need to get out more and find someone new…

He’d want you to be happy…

At least he didn’t suffer…

Only the good die young…

When are you going to get over it…

You need to move on…

The most well-meaning and unhelpful advice came from those who had never lost a partner or anyone real close. At first the platitudes, clichés that made the people who said them feel better for trying to help but offered no real comfort to her, frustrated her. Then they made her angry.

Why was everyone so intent that she “move on”? What did that even mean? Why did it matter to them? It was funny how that advice always came from people she rarely saw–people who almost never came around her. It’s not like she was bugging them with talks of Andrew or running them into the ground with her grief and sadness and yet, there they were, pressing her to “let him go.”

It made her mad enough to want to hold on even more.

“Well, I just stopped in to give you an update,” Taryn said, rising to her feet. She was just ornery enough that the idea of humming Lenny’s big hit “Never Let You Go” ran through her mind but, in the end, she decided that might be a bit much. “It’s been a long day and I need to get home.”

“I’ll walk you out,” Ruby said, also standing. She brushed her hands along the back of her yoga pants, sending dog hair flying. Lenny flinched and wrinkled his nose.

The puppies ran around in circles, worried and confused. Their ladies were leaving. Taryn watched with interest as they avoided Lenny completely. It was true that dogs could sense who didn’t want them or like them. Who might be mean to them.

“Bye,” Taryn waved to Lenny over her shoulder. “It was nice to see you again.”

He muttered something similar and then took another swig from his bottle, emptying it.

“I wanted to talk to you about some things going on at the motel,” Taryn explained as they slowly made their way through the house. “I didn’t feel real comfortable doing it with your friend here.”

Ruby rolled her eyes and patted Taryn on the arm. “Yes, Lenny’s never been a fan of those kinds of things. He’s not much of a believer in anything he can’t see to shoot.”

“Was he a friend to Parker?” Taryn asked.

“Good friends. They were buddies. Lenny took his death hard. He was never quite the same after, although he did quit the hard stuff. Of course, the booze was something else,” Ruby laughed. “I think he’s more beer than blood at this point.”

“I wanted to ask you about Aker,” Taryn said as they neared the front door. “Were he and Parker friends?”

“Not friends so much as a professional relationship,” Ruby replied. “Aker took his job very seriously.”

“Yeah, he does that now, too.”

“I don’t think he was much of a fan. Aker never agreed with the drug usage that all the guys did. He took care of them, but there was a bit of judgment there. Of course, the fact that Parker courted Aker’s ex-wife didn’t win him any favors.”

Taryn paused. “Parker had a thing with Aker’s ex-wife?”

“Well, they weren’t married at the time. Aker was married to Gloria by then. You know how men are, though,” Ruby laughed. “Territorial, just like we are. I thought, when Aker found out, that it would be the end of him and his employment with us. They seemed to work it out, though. Parker didn’t mean anything serious by it. He just got lonely. I think it bothered him that Aker took it personally. He never wanted to hurt anyone.”

Ruby looked down then and narrowed her eyes, her face hardening.

Except you
, Taryn thought.
He hurt
you
.

“One more thing. Was Parker a, for lack of better word, hoarder there at the end?”

“Well, not like those people you see on TV–the ones with all the plastic containers of urine and four feet of garbage in all the rooms,” Ruby explained. “But he did have some issues. He was very ill there at the end, sicker than any of us knew. I wish I had known. I wish I’d known as much as I thought I did.”

Taryn
looked
at the computer screen again and sadly shook her head. Who would be so hateful? Who could possibly hate her
that
much?

A lot of her clients found her through an online freelancing site for artists. She had a portfolio there and there was even an escrow system available to make payment easier on both parties involved. Former clients could leave reviews, similar to what visitors could find on sites like Yelp and Tripadvisor.

Up until now, Taryn’s reviews had been stellar, her feedback excellent.

Not anymore.

“A total hack job,” she read aloud to Matt, her voice shaking. “This so-called ‘artist’ wasn’t much better than an elementary school kid with a box of watercolors. I could’ve done better work with crayons. We hired her to paint a building that meant a lot to us and it became obvious that we were overpaying her from the very beginning. No technique, cookie cutter results, and no depth or soul to her work. Avoid at all costs.”

Unable to hold it together any longer, Taryn put her head down and burst into tears. Matt was quiet on the other end of the line, allowing her to cry and get it all out.

“I’m sorry,” he said at last. “I don’t think it’s real, though. It sounds like someone just trying to be mean.”

“Yeah well,” she sniffed, “they succeeded.”

“Your clients love you,” he insisted. “You’ve never worked with anyone who wasn’t happy with your work. This isn’t real.”

“It doesn’t matter, Matt. Potential clients will see this and think it is.”

“You want to call Rob, have him do a little hacking and figure it out? He might be able to trace it…”

Rob was their mutual friend. He lived in Lexington, Kentucky where he ran a store called New Age Gifts and More. The “and more” consisted of electronics he bought cheap, fixed up, and sold for profit. On one side of his store you could find crystal balls, incense, and brightly colored candles. On the other it was DVD players, flat-screens, and refurbished iPads.

“Yeah, can you do that?” she asked. “I’d really like to know who did it. Someone I’ve obviously pissed off.”

Now that she’d had a bit of a cry, she was shaking mad. How dare someone try to sabotage her reputation like that? It was a bully, and Taryn didn’t tolerate bullies.

“Whoever did it can suck my toe,” she hissed.