Ghosts of Averoigne

Several hours later, they were still lost in a mountain of paperwork.

“This is totally nuts,” said Kara. She threw aside a folded piece of yellowed parchment. “It’s like looking for—”

“A needle in a haystack?” Jeremy finished for her.

She rolled her eyes at the old adage. “How about a snowball in a blizzard?”

“Good enough.”

They were knee-deep in town records, maps, property deeds… even mortgage documents. All things boring and mundane. Kara’s back and neck were sore from hunching over. Her eyes hurt. She was ready to call it quits.

But Jeremy wasn’t.

“You taking another break?” he asked.

“Sort of,” she said. She rubbed hard at her neck.

“Fine, then go scare us up some more drinks.”

Kara’s knees cracked as she stood up. By now they knew everything there was to know about the town. They knew the founders, the farmers, the rich land owners and the past politicians. Anything and everything except what previously existed on the lot where the Averoigne had been built.

I wonder what Logan’s doing right now?

She imagined him roaming the hotel’s halls, charming the rest of the guests. Flirting with the cute blonde she’d seen this morning. Whatever he was doing, it was much more fun than this.

Or whomever he’s doing…

Kara shoved her intrusive thoughts aside as she trudged her way up the steps. It didn’t matter. She and Logan didn’t have anything anyway. And right now she was shivering, her hands curled into claws. Of course the town records had been kept in the lower level of the library — the part built straight into the side of the hill. That part that was bitter cold…

She passed the librarian, one of the only other people in the building, and dropped her last two quarters into the ancient vending machine. With a loud whir, it spat out another two paper cups of mediocre hot chocolate. Kara carried them back down, working hard not to spill anything. You’d think they’d give you lids, but no. She had to laugh. At least her hands were warm.

By the time she got back, Jeremy was sitting up straight. He’d brought one document over to one of the windows, set near the ceiling, where the lighting was better. But where it was also bitingly cold.

“Check this out,” he said.

Kara set down one of the cups and cradled the other in both hands. Peering over his shoulder, she checked.

“This is it,” Jeremy said excitedly. He was pointing down, into a ledger. “This is the lot number that corresponds to where the hotel was built!”

He was excited for the discovery. Kara was excited because it meant she could thaw out her frozen extremities. Jeremy paused for an awful long time. Too long for it to be just for dramatic effect.

“And?” she said.

“And it looks like there was a home there,” Jeremy said. “Part of a larger farm.” He squinted and pushed his glasses back. “A house, definitely. Owned by a man named Victor Walcott.”

Kara shrugged. She’d read through Jeremy’s files on the Averoigne and the name meant nothing to her.

“So what now?” she asked. “We head back to the Averoigne and see if Radcliffe knows anything about—”

“No, no,” Jeremy jumped in. He shook the ledger in his hand. “Now we check the town records for anything we can find on this guy.”

Kara’s stomach dropped. She groaned. “Are you serious?”

Her companion blinked. Unfortunately she recognized the look. “Of course!”

Finding what they could on Victor Walcott required three things: the librarian’s help, another two hours, and Kara almost literally freezing her ass off.

She stood in the back corner of the lower library, pressing her backside against the blissfully warm radiator. It wasn’t until Jeremy yelled out in triumph that she actually moved.