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“I’ll be damned,” he said. “That monstrosity of a hotel seems to have more lives than ten cats. Everyone thought when Malo Renquist took off that the place would be torn down, and then your uncle came along and got it for back taxes…and now here you are.” He shook his head. “You’ll do better to tear the place down and put the land up for sale.”
“I can’t,” Stacy said and explained the stipulations in her uncle’s will.
“That sounds like Weird Willy,” Ted commented when she’d finished, and then quickly apologized. “I’m sorry. He seemed like a nice enough guy, but kind of—” He gave a slight twirl of his finger to his head.
“I know.” She sighed. “Uncle Willard was never close to my mother and me. We knew that he’d made a lot of money off of one of his inventions, but we had no idea he’d settled in Colorado.”
“She hasn’t seen the place yet,” Josh said. “I’m going to run her up there now.”
“Why don’t you let me do it?” Ted said quickly. “No need for you to put yourself through that kind of wringer.”
“No problem,” Josh said shortly.
It wasn’t until they were back in the pickup that Stacy realized what it might be costing Josh emotionally to revisit the scene of his sister’s death. She could tell from the set of his jaw that he wasn’t going to back down now. He’d said he’d drive her there, and that was that.
A narrow road mounted the side of the mountain, twisting back on itself in a slow but constant upward climb. The distance from Timberlane might only be five miles, but Stacy realized that for all practical purposes, she would be as isolated as if the mileage were triple that.
“Is this the only road to the hotel?”
He nodded. “There’s a jeep trail on the back side that comes within a mile of the property, but it’s in pretty poor shape. I think your uncle had new gravel spread on this one last year.”
Stacy took a deep breath and tried to keep the butterflies out of her stomach. At midmorning all hints of an early darkness in the cliffs and rocky caverns were gone, but a swath of sky overhead was still gray and foreboding.
Surely there wouldn’t be another terrifying storm so soon.
Stacy wanted to ask Josh questions about the condition of the hotel, but his stony silence discouraged her. When she had picked up the key from Mr. Doughty’s office, the lawyer had assured her that all the utilities had been put in service, including a telephone. Doughty had told her that the place was reported to be quite livable and continuing renovations only waited for her approval.
She clung to this reassurance when Josh shot her a quick look and said, as if to warn her, “Around the next curve, you’ll be able to see the hotel.”
Stacy didn’t know what she had expected the building to be like. Certainly not an antebellum southern mansion that looked utterly out of place set against a rough, rock-hewed mountainside. Built of gray stone, three stories high, the front entrance was framed by four pillars and a portico. A verandah and a series of small balconies and dirty mullioned windows accented the exterior. Steeply pitched lines of a roof, obviously designed to shed the heavy winter snows, made the Haverly Hotel look like somebody’s bad dream.
The gray day with its leaden sky blended with the dirty outside walls, streaked glass windows and the air of brooding desolation. Signs of a halted renovation were evident in the clutter scattered about the grounds.
“What a monstrosity,” Stacy audibly breathed, unable to hide her disappointment.
Secretly, she’d been fantasizing that the place might resemble one of those attractive mountain lodges with a warm wood exterior and rock fireplaces. With the remodeling her uncle had specified, she hoped that she might have herself a nice source of income. All such positive thoughts were brought up short as Josh pulled up in front of her inheritance.
“It’s a hellhole!”
She could feel the tension radiating from his rigid body. As her eyes unwittingly traveled along the second-story balconies, her stomach took a sickening plunge. She imagined a piercing cry and the deadly thud of a body hitting the ground below. She realized then how much it had cost Josh to bring her here.
“I’m really sorry. I didn’t know—” she began.
He brushed aside her apology as he got out of the pickup, took her suitcases out of the back and set them on the ground. He opened the passenger door for her. When she didn’t get out, he raised a questioning eyebrow. “Have you changed you mind about staying?”
She almost said yes. At that moment, the stipulation of her uncle’s will that she live on the property vibrated with a threatening foreboding. In time past, she had trusted her premonitions and been grateful for unexplained inner warnings.
“Do you want me to take you back to town?”
Common sense mocked her timidity. And then what? No car. Little money. And only unemployment awaiting her in L.A.
“No, of course not,” she said with false bravado and slipped out of the pickup. He picked up her bags, and they had started up the front steps when the front door suddenly opened.
Two men dressed in workmen’s clothes came out, and when they saw Stacy and Josh, they looked as if they might dart back inside and slam the door shut.
“What are you guys doing here?” Josh demanded. He recognized them as drifters, Chester Styles and Rob Beale, who had been hiring out to do an assortment of odd jobs around the town.
“We was working here, until Weird Willy kicked the bucket,” the burly, older Rob said. “We came back for our tools.”
“Yeah.” Chester nodded, a tall, lanky young man with straggly blond hair. “Our tools.”
Josh would have bet his last dollar the two of them were lying through their teeth, and he was about to tell them so when Stacy abruptly took charge of the conversation.
“I’m Stacy Ashford, the new owner,” she said pleasantly. “And I’m going to be needing some workmen. I want to continue the renovation my uncle started.”
“You mean Weird Willy dumped this place on you?” Chester asked, a smirk on his face.
“I inherited it, yes. And I’d like to complete the renovations as quickly as possible.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Rob nodded his balding head. “I’m thinking we’re just the fellows to help you out here.”
“Good,” Stacy said. “Come around tomorrow and we can have a talk.”
“Willy was owing us some back wages,” Rob added with a gleam in his eyes. “You’d have to be catching up on our back pay.”
“Yeah,” Chester agreed. “He owed us plenty.”
Josh couldn’t stomach any more. Clenching his fists, he moved closer to the two men. “You better be damn careful what you say, unless you’re ready to back up your lies.”
“We’re just talking business with her,” Rob protested, taking a step backward.
“No, you’re talking business with me. Listen carefully. You’ll get paid the same as before—if you get the job. There are plenty of fellows who have their own tools. I’d like to know how you got into the hotel?”
“We got a key,” Chester answered pugnaciously.
Rob sent him a withering look, mumbling, “Blubber mouth.”
“Give it to Miss Ashford,” Josh ordered, wondering how many more loose keys were floating around. Changing all the locks in this barn of a place would be a mammoth job, but it was something she should do as soon as possible.
Sending Josh a belligerent scowl, Chester handed Stacy the key.
“How we supposed to get in the place when we come to work?” Rob demanded.
“I’m sure Miss Ashford will make an arrangement to let you in. She’s the one who’s going to be your boss.”
Chester’s smile showed clearly that he was pleased, and even Rob nodded his bald head in approval. “See you tomorrow.”
The two men ambled away, headed for an old car that had been parked at the side of the building. They still carried the tools Josh was positive they’d lifted from the hotel.
Slowly Stacy mounted the front steps and waited as Josh opened the front door of the building. A chilled, dank air touched her face. She hesitated. The premonition was there, loud and clear.
Once she crossed the threshold, her life would never be the same again.
Sensing her trepidation, Josh put a guiding hand on her arm as they passed through a foyer into a lobbylike room with a high ceiling. The spacious area was faintly illuminated by shadowed light coming in through dirty windows.
A wide hall stretched ahead like a tunnel into the depths of the building and a staircase rose like a curved specter against one wall. A series of doors were visible on both sides of the main floor, all closed.
“The electricity is supposed to be on,” Stacy said in a hushed voice as if some unseen presence was listening. “But where are the light switches?”
Josh set down the suitcases. Chester and Rob must have used a flashlight to get around, he thought, or they were familiar enough with the place not to need one. No telling how much stuff they’d been carting out while it was empty.
“Let’s check one of the rooms and see if we have electricity,” he suggested.
When she hesitated, he took her hand and was surprised to find it sweaty and trembling. He realized that for all her outward bravado, she was plain scared. His first impulse was to take her out of the blasted place as fast as possible. The very air was permeated with a dark evil that had claimed his sister’s life. He couldn’t believe that he was here with a woman who had crashed into his life less than twenty-four hours ago. He was tempted to pick her up bodily, carry her out of the building and slam the door behind them.
And then what?
Even as he asked himself the question, he knew the answer. Even though she must be cringing at the idea of staying here during the renovations, she wouldn’t give up meeting the terms of her inheritance. He’d already glimpsed a bone-deep stubbornness in Stacy Ashford that both impressed and annoyed him. Trying to talk her into leaving was a waste of breath.
As they crossed the marble floor, their footsteps set up a weird echo in the empty building. The first set of double doors had warped so badly, Josh had to put his weight against them to get them open.
As they stepped through the doorway, he found a light switch on the wall. Just as he flipped on the lights, the sound of cracking timber overhead assaulted their ears.
“Look out!” He shoved Stacy back out the door. A large beam came crashing down just inside the room where they had been standing.
“What in the hell—?” Josh swore.
Stacy’s heart was pounding loudly in her ears as the crash of the falling timber faded away and left a haunting, weighted silence. Bright lights showed a party room that at one time must have been furnished with small tables, matching chairs, and a dusty hardwood dance floor. Only a few scattered pieces of furniture remained.
Looking up at the ceiling, they could see that part of it had been stripped away and some of the rafters were gone.
“Looks like the job was left half-finished,” Josh muttered.
“That rafter must have been loosened and left hanging,” Stacy said. “The vibration of your slamming against the door probably brought it down.”
Josh wasn’t so sure. Maybe it had been positioned to fall? Chester and Rob must have had the run of the place since Willard’s death, and Josh was convinced they weren’t above booby-trapping the place to keep others out. He was more convinced than ever that Stacy should cut her losses and let the whole damn roof fall in on itself.
As they continued their tour of the building, he could tell that her anxiety was growing. The main rooms on the first floor consisted of the party room, a bar and lounge, a recreation room with card and pool tables, and an office. A kitchen and laundry were in the back of the building.
They turned on lights as they went, and he could see that all of the rooms were in various states of disrepair. And nearly empty. Apparently Stacy’s uncle had not been able to decide on priorities. As a result, every room on the main floor was in a renovation limbo. They found several telephone wall jacks, but no telephones. Josh couldn’t help but wonder if Chester and Rob had made off with them and sold them for a few bucks.
There was electricity in the kitchen, and a butane tank at back of the building supplied gas for heating. All of the appliances were connected, and probably working, but a large refrigerator was empty. A collection of mismatched dishes and tableware remained on a few cupboard shelves and in drawers.
The large laundry room was bare except for a single washer, dryer and several washtubs. Stacy prayed the washer and dryer were in working order.
Josh opened a basement door revealing steep wooden stairs disappearing into the darkness below. “Maybe there’s a wine cellar. Want to take a look?”
“No,” she said quickly as a rush of stale, cool air touched her face. “Let’s check the upstairs.”
A wave of despair swept over her as they started up the stairs to the second floor. If the whole place was in the same state of chaos as the downstairs, how could she manage to stay here? The stipend that the lawyer had promised depended upon her living on the premises and controlling an allocated amount for the renovation—an amount that seemed totally inadequate, considering the state of the place.
When they reached a landing halfway up the stairs, a large window looked out on a steeply rising mountainside. Thick drifts of pine and spruce trees and jagged rocks shut out any view of the sky. Stacy realized that in a storm like last night, thunder, lightning and lashing rain would be right outside this window.
And you’ll be alone, some mocking inner voice taunted her. Alone in this nightmare.
She turned away quickly, avoided looking at Josh, and climbed the remaining steps to the second floor. Small sconce lights on the walls lent feeble light as they walked the length of the upper hall from one end to the other.
Peering into rooms through open doors, they saw the area was empty of furniture. The windows were bare, the floors littered with boxes filled with discarded furnishings.
“You can bet all the rooms are like this,” Josh said gruffly. The sooner she realized the truth, the better. “This whole place is totally unlivable.”
“I want to check out everything, but there’s no need for you to stay. You’ve done enough already,” she assured him.
He gave a dismissive wave of his hand without answering, and she knew the hotel must be bringing back tortured memories of his sister’s death.
About halfway down the east wing, they came to a wide mahogany door, which was a startling contrast to the unpainted doors of the other small hotel rooms.
Josh tried the door, but it was locked. “I don’t think I can budge this one,” he said as he eyed the thick panels.
Stacy reached into her purse. “The lawyer gave me this ring of keys. Maybe one of these will work.”
The first two keys he tried didn’t fit the lock, but the third one turned with a rewarding click. He cautiously opened the door, and they waited for a few seconds to make sure it wasn’t booby-trapped. Then they walked in.
“I don’t believe it!” Stacy said in a stunned voice. After the ugly debacle in the rest of the place, the furnished apartment at the front of the building was a total shock.
“Well, I’ll be,” Josh muttered in total surprise.
Stacy walked around the rooms in a trance. Walls had been torn out to open up the spacious areas of a living room, dining alcove and modern kitchenette. The decor was definitely masculine: the walnut furniture was dark and heavy, plain beige drapes hung at the windows, and brown carpeting covered the floors throughout. All the pictures were prints of western scenes. No personal effects were visible in any of the rooms, and closets and drawers were empty. Even the bathroom was void of towels, soap and shower mat.
There was a telephone, and a blessed hum met Stacy’s ears when she checked the line. Good. Now she’d be able to call the car rental company, tell them what had happened and find out what she should do.
She wondered if the lawyer had arranged for her uncle’s possessions to be boxed and stored somewhere. It was as if the apartment had been stripped of everything belonging to an earlier occupant. Even though there was an eerie emptiness in the dusty rooms, Stacy couldn’t hold back the tears of relief. Thank God, she’d found livable quarters.
Josh’s reaction was at the opposite end of the scale. Up until now, he’d been certain that Stacy would have to find accommodations in Timberlane whether she wanted to or not.
As he stared out a glass door at the wrought-iron balcony, his chest tightened. The thought of any unprotected woman living in this abhorrent place alarmed him.
“Well, I guess that settles it,” he heard Stacy say in a relieved tone as she came out of the bedroom. “I can stay here and be very comfortable while I see to the renovations and arrange for—”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he interrupted her. “You should ask for legal permission to live elsewhere. At least, until you get some security measures put in place.”
“There’s a good lock on this door.”
“But what about the rest of the place? Anybody could wander in, night or day. It’s not safe for a woman to be staying here alone.” He glanced once more at the balcony. “Not safe at all.”
“Josh, I’m not Glenda,” she said quietly, reading his thoughts.
“No, and I’m hoping you have a lot more sense than she did.” He softened his tone. “Stacy, the whole stability of the building is in question—ceilings, walls, floors and the like. The entire place should be condemned and be done with it.”
