Griffith Tavern (Taryn's Camera Book 2) Read online

  Delphina’d taken pity on Taryn when she’d seen her sitting outside on the porch with her computer. She’d fixed her a plate of cheese, crackers, and fruit: supper.

  “After all, I was on her property...”

  “In light of the situation I’d say waving back was probably the appropriate thing to do,” Matt agreed. His voice was muffled against the phone.

  “You’re getting undressed, aren’t you?” Taryn asked, accusingly. “What, are you planning on taking me in the shower with you?”

  “Well, not today,” he laughed with uncharacteristic flirtation. “But maybe another time. It’s just blistering hot here today and I was sweating. I needed to cool off.”

  “Do you think this is just a random haunting?” Another guest had checked in while she was out but she hadn’t seen them yet. Their car was in the driveway so she figured she’d see them at breakfast. She’d been at the B&B for almost two weeks and it was the first guest the business had had, other than her, since her first night. She wondered how Delphina managed.

  “What do you mean?”

  Chewing on the bottom of her lip, a bad habit that often let her sore and raw, she tied to articulate her thoughts. “Do you think she wants something out of me or am I just seeing things?”

  “It sounds to me like you think there’s a mystery there,” he teased. “And that maybe you should call Fred, Daphne, and the gang to come and investigate.”

  “Hey, I thought I was Daphne!”

  “I don’t think so, I always saw you as more of a Velma type,” he mused.

  Faking outrage she snorted. “Are you saying I’m nerdy and fat?”

  “No, I’m saying you’re smart and have big breasts.”

  With the first real laugh she’d had in awhile she wished him a good evening and hung up. With any luck, she’d have some emails from future job prospects and wouldn’t have to worry about money so much.

  Unfortunately, there weren’t any emails, and no clients were sniffing out her services, but when she checked her bank account she did discover her last check had been deposited. She wasn’t rich, but she had cash flow again.

  “That’s it,” she announced as she smacked her laptop shut. “I’m going out to eat. This calls for something processed and fattening.”

  Taryn knew when to hold back and when to celebrate.

  Later that night, in bed, Taryn wasn’t so sure the fries, cheeseburger, apple pie, and milkshake were a good idea. Now she was running back and forth to the bathroom more times than she’d like.

  Almost an hour had passed since her last bathroom trip and she’d been lulled into a false sense of security. She’d even been dozing a little when the cramps seized her again, sending her scrambling out of bed to make a mad dash back to the toilet. She dozed again while she sat there in the dark, her arms and head resting on the sink beside her. With bleary eyes she washed her hands, dried them on the soft hand towel, and trudged back out the door, hoping this would be the last trip for the night.

  When she crossed over the doorway, however, she stopped cold in her tracks. The silhouette of a woman, quite similar to the one who had stood in the window of Griffith Tavern earlier that day, now stood in her own window and stared out at the lawn. Although her back was to Taryn, she could still see the long dark hair. The air around them was already changing and Taryn shivered as she took a step backwards. Where could she go? What was she supposed to do? This close to her, it was obvious the woman was tall and thin, taller than Taryn anyway, and even stately.

  “Jesus!” Taryn finally shouted, falling into her door. It might have taken her a moment to react, but she wasn’t so used to seeing weird crap at this point that she was unaffected at the sight of ghosts in her bedroom.

  At the sound of Taryn’s voice, the woman turned partly around and cocked her head slightly to the left with a small smile. She had a startling beautiful face, almost angelic with its fine features and porcelain complexion. A faint glow emanated from her, as if someone was standing behind her with a flashlight. She nodded her head, an acknowledgement, and then, swept away by a breeze, she vanished.

  On shaky legs, Taryn staggered across the room and sat down on the edge of her bed. She fumbled with the switch as she flipped her lamp on. She didn’t think she’d be sleeping in the dark tonight. There was still a strong current in the air, almost like static. Her hair was still standing on end.

  “Okay,” she said aloud, a little surprised at the power in her voice. She felt like she might pass out. “You obviously want something from me. But I don’t think I can help you unless you stop scaring the living daylights out of me and are a little clearer with what you’re after.”

  Maybe it was her imagination, but the air almost certainly rippled in response.

  “I’m not good at this, Permelia.” At the sound of her name, the bedside lamp flickered off. In darkness, Taryn tightened her fists and waited for something extraordinary to happen. She prepared herself for a hurricane of activity, for the face of a ghost to appear inches away from her own, for her room to start spinning…

  All was quiet.

  Leaning forward, she flicked the lamp back on again. Like hell she was sitting there in the dark. “I don’t know what you think, but I’m not a medium, I don’t have some kind of magical sight. Well, okay,” Taryn conceded. “I do have a little bit of something, but I really don’t think I’m what you need.”

  Now that she was talking, she was surprised at just how easy it was to converse with the ghost. It wasn’t so different than talking to herself really.

  The air was still now, though; the room empty. Whatever had been there was gone; Taryn was sure of it.

  Still a little stunned, she got up from the bed and grabbed her phone. Even though it was in the middle of the night, she sent Matt a text:

  Ghost visited me tonight. Why? Nothing to do with B&B.

  She’d no sooner laid back down and closed her eyes when her phone went off with a few notes from “Me and Bobby McGee.”

  “Hey,” she answered. “You still up?”

  “Working on something,” he lied. His voice sounded sleepy. “You had a visitor?”

  She quickly filled him in on what happened, still shocked at the intensity of her appearance. Despite what had occurred at Windwood Farm, she’d never really interacted with a spirit before. At least, not since she was a child and that memory grew dimmer every day.

  “It doesn’t have anything to do with where you’re staying,” he said, putting reason to her thoughts. “It’s you. She’s attached herself to you.”

  “So she’s followed me home like a stray puppy? Well that’s a scary thought. Does she think I can magically fix whatever it is she needs?”

  “Maybe,” he replied thoughtfully. “I need to think about it. It might be something else. Is there something you could do for her? Something nobody else could?”

  “I don’t think so. She’s dead.”

  “Well, there are three things going on here then. Either she wants you to do something for her, something she can’t do because she’s dead, or she wants to be known. I’ve heard of that happening, too.”

  “Yeah, well, what’s the third thing?”

  “Uh, she’s just crazy and wants attention?”

  “Great,” Taryn quipped. “That’s just what I need.”

  “Well, maybe she thinks you’re a kindred spirit. You know, two working girls trying to make it alone in the world,” he suggested.

  “I can just see the sitcom now,” Taryn muttered.

  “I was serious.”

  “So was I.”

  Matt was silent.

  “What could she want after all these years?” Taryn asked at last. Why show up now?

  “Maybe she’s afraid someone’s going to tear down her house,” he suggested. “And she wants you to stop it. God knows if it was you and your house you’d probably haunt someone until they threw themselves at the dozer.”

  Taryn didn’t see Delphina at breakfast. Warm
French toast with berry compote, scrambled eggs, and biscuits were waiting for her and she stuffed a few muffins into her day pack, despite the fact her financial forecast had a much better outlook this morning. You could never be too prepared.

  After breakfast she changed into her work clothes for the day, a pair of capris and a sleeveless top since it was still warm in the afternoons, and started out to her car with her canvas and paints. At the edge of the porch, Delphina knelt in the grass on a blanket and busied herself with her roses. She looked up and smiled when Taryn walked down the steps. “Thought I’d get a head start on these while it was cool this morning. I’ve been meaning to cut them back,” she explained.

  “They’re beautiful,” Taryn conceded, admiring the flashes of color and velvety petals wrapping around the railings. “I’ve never been good at raising flowers. Had a garden a couple of times, but flowers aren’t my thing.”

  “I treat my roses the same way I would my children if I had any,” Delphina laughed. “I spoil them. Did you enjoy your breakfast?”

  “Yes, I did. And I was meaning to ask you, and I don’t want this to sound funny or anything, but it’s about the Tavern…”

  “Sure, hon, what it is? Oh, damn it!” A thorn pierced through her finger and a trail of blood began trickling down Delphina’s wrist and dripped onto her jean shorts. She immediately placed her finger in her mouth and sucked on the injury, wincing at the pain.

  “Can I get you anything? Some water?” The patch of blood on the old woman’s shorts spread out like a small fan.

  “No, no, I’ll be fine. Just forgot my gloves this morning. It was foolish,” she sighed, rocking back on her heels.

  “I can get them for you,” Taryn offered. “Just point me in the right direction.”

  “No,” with a wave of her hand Delphina pooh-poohed the idea. “They’re all the way in the basement and I won’t have my guests playing maid to me. It was time for me to take a break anyway.”

  “I don’t mind,” Taryn tried again.

  “Nonsense. I should keep them up here in the shed anyway. That will teach me. I’m probably getting too old for this kind of thing. One day I’ll get down and won’t be able to get back up. Now, what were you asking me?”

  The moment was gone, though, and she didn’t want to bring it back up. “Never mind. It wasn’t that big of a deal. We’ll talk about it another time.”

  “Are you sure?”

  Taryn nodded. Before she got in her car, however, she stopped and called back. “Delphina? Have there ever been any stories about…this house?”

  “What do you mean, dear?”

  “Oh, I don’t know,” Taryn tried to reply lightly. “You know, like a ghost story?”

  Delphina chuckled. “I’ve never seen a thing here. Why, dear, have you?” A slight frown lined her face, but Taryn might have imagined it because it was gone in an instant.

  “It might have been a dream,” Taryn shrugged. “I can have some bad ones.”

  Once she was in her car and on her way down the road towards the tavern, she decided Matt must be right. With no history of hauntings, with no apparent mystery to solve, the only other thing Permelia’s ghost could possibly want with her was to stop the destruction of the tavern. But how in the world could she possibly do that? If Permelia knew of a way to get that accomplished, she was going to have to do a lot more than just show up in her window.

  Chapter 8

  Taryn passed the Anderson County Historical Society every morning and afternoon on her way to and from Griffith Tavern. It was a squat, brick building lacking any character or charm. The county jail was located next to it. The first few times she’d driven past it, she done so with a shudder. Historical societies were a little bit of a sore spot with her at the moment, considering her last experience with one, and while she tried not to hold the one incident against all of them; well, she was human.

  If she was going to get anywhere, though, she would have to suck it up. The sign said “open” and Taryn wasn’t on any kind of timeframe. That was the beauty of being able to work for yourself.

  A pleasant-faced, plump, middle-aged woman sat behind a desk. She was staring at a computer screen, her brown hair reflecting the virtual glow. Wearing a bright pink Branson T-shirt, cartoon cat earrings dangling from her ears, and nursing something out of an Elvis mug she was a veritable display of colors and visual arrestments. She looked up when the bells from the door chimed and sent Taryn a friendly smile. Her nametag said “Miranda.” “Hi there,” she welcomed. “You know who or what you’re looking for?”

  “Sort of,” Taryn mumbled. “Well, not really.”

  “That’s okay,” Miranda laughed. “We get that a lot. Tell me a few things about your ancestor and I’ll try to point you in the right direction. A lot of it’s online these days.”

  Taryn, feeling guilty she wasn’t there to research some long-dead relative, pulled up a nearby folding chair and faced the woman. “I’m not actually here to look up someone for me,” she began. “I’m here in town painting a landscape of Griffith Tavern and, well, I’m trying to do a little bit of research on it. Get some more history.”

  “Oh, it’s a wonderful old building, isn’t it?” Miranda actually clapped her hands with glee, her face lighting up. “Such a shame it’s in such disrepair and going to be torn down. And such a history!”

  “Yes, that’s why I’m here,” Taryn agreed. “And we’re hoping it won’t be torn down at all.”

  “You know, they say Jesse James even stayed there at one time,” she whispered confidentially, even though Taryn was obviously the only one there and Jesse had been dead for, well, a very long time. If Jesse James had actually visited every single place that claimed he’d stayed there, he would have never had the time to commit all the crimes he was accused of.

  “You never know…” Taryn agreed, resisting the urge to debate Jesse’s past. And, who knows, he might have.

  “Have you read the history book about the county?” She leaned backwards and plucked a book off a shelf beside her and held it out to Taryn. She was disappointed to see the same volume she’d already read at Delphina’s.

  “Yes, I read through it. Unfortunately, it didn’t have a lot to say about the tavern.”

  Miranda sighed, shaking her head in exaggerated regret. “Yes, well, that’s about all that’s written about it. Of course, there’s a lot of oral history. That’s how most of us got our stories. Unfortunately, some of our older residents who would have remembered the tavern in its heyday are long gone now,” she added sadly.

  “Right.” Taryn was frustrated, realizing she was hitting a brick wall. What had she hoped to accomplish anyway? She was fumbling around in the dark and she knew it. “Well, maybe you can help me out. If I ask you some questions…”

  “I can see what I know!”

  “Okay,” Taryn rubbed her hands together in anticipation. “The treasure.”

  “Just a local legend I’m afraid,” Miranda replied. “If there was some sort of buried treasure it would’ve been unearthed a long time ago. There was some work done on the tavern a long time ago. Or she would’ve used it herself.”

  Taryn assumed “she” was Permelia Burke.

  “Okay. How about any crimes she might have committed?”

  “Who? Permelia?” The idea seemed to shock Miranda. Her cheeks flushed bright pink and she managed to look both appalled and scandalized. “Oh no. She was a lovely woman. The first female business owner in the county. You know, the couple who worked for her husband stayed on for years, even after he married her. And you know it’s hard to have two women in the household trying to run the show. Nothing bad was ever said.”

  Well, damn. Then Permelia probably didn’t have anything she wanted Taryn to help her atone for. Taryn was at a loss.

  With nothing but dead ends, she tried another tactic. “Has anyone tried to get the tavern on the historic landmark list? Especially since Jesse James might have stayed there and it’s one of the co
unty’s original buildings?”

  “Yes, I believe the paperwork is going through right now. Of course, it takes some time. In the meantime, there’s nothing that says it can’t be demolished. You probably know how those things work.”

  Taryn sighed. She knew. Miranda leaned back in her chair and gazed at her quizzically. “Let me ask you something, dear. Is there a particular reason why you think this building should be saved? Obviously, it means a lot to us, but is there something about it we should know but don’t?”

  Taryn smiled. “I wish I knew something you didn’t. I work with historical buildings as part of my job. People, mostly organizations and companies, call me in to paint pictures of them either before they’re torn down or restored. I’m a multimedia artist. As far as this one goes, if I told you, you might just think I was crazy.”

  “Oh, I don’t know. You might want to try me.”

  “It called to me,” she said shyly. Saying it aloud didn’t make her feel any less crazy. Miranda didn’t look fazed, however.

  “Oh, that’s easy to understand. As someone who loves old houses and barns I’ve stopped many a time on the side of the road and pulled out my camera when something caught my fancy. Drives my husband insane. Interesting what calls to us and what doesn’t,” Miranda mused.

  “It is interesting, isn’t it? The Friends of Griffith Tavern are doing everything they can. I don’t know if I can do anything to help them,” Taryn explained. “I don’t know the area, we don’t have a lot of time, and I certainly don’t have any money.”

  “Do any of us anymore?”

  Taryn laughed. “Well, I was hoping you might have some documents or really anything I could take a look at. I’m invested in this place now and I’d like to learn more.” She resisted the urge to tell her Permelia’s ghost was the one encouraging this side project.

  “Well, we do have some of the old guest logs from the tavern here. You’re welcome to look at them, but they’re probably not going to be helpful. The truth is, the inn wasn’t that busy and not very profitable in the later years. Oh, it had its moments in the beginning. And during the war, of course, it was a hospital. But, just like a lot of hotels nowadays, it also had its moments of difficulties. I suspect the tavern was the real moneymaker.”