I opened my eyes at six AM and hugged him. "Bye, little man. You and Mommy have fun in Georgia. You be good."
"I will," he said, and climbed off the bed. He left the room.
I lay there a while, with my eyes open, thinking about how my family was going to visit the in-laws for a week. I had the house to myself, which didn't actually feel like as much fun as it used to.
Fortunately, I had stuff to do.
I walked into the Genetti Hotel with the New Boss and the library's tech person. Looking around the lobby, the boss said,"I'll get us checked into the seminar. Coffee is over there."
"I need some," I said. "Who'd have thought there was a seven-fifteen in the morning, too?"
I was carrying my pack and the library's laptop. I dropped them at the table, and hung my jacket over the back of a chair. My shirt was the dark blue UFO one that said Believe.
I was sitting at the table with my coffee, trying to get the laptop to work, when one of the servers came around to pick up the empty mugs. She said,"Do you write for the Express? Are you Lou?"
I looked up. "Yes, that's me."
"I love your column!" she said. "I really liked the one about the Tiadaghton Elm. I actually wondered about that."
"Oh, thanks. I expected to get some hate mail over that one, but everyone seems to love it."
"Have you ever heard about the ghost in here?"
"Bits and pieces," I said. "Nothing too concrete."
"Over on the stairs, there's a photo of the ballroom," she said. "It has a little girl in it, sitting in a chair, but she's barely visible. She's all blurry. Some people think that's the architect's daughter. They think she died when she fell down a laundry chute as the hotel was being built."
"I've never heard that one before," I said. "What year was this place built?"
"1922," she said immediately. I liked that.
"Where's the picture?" I asked.
"At the bottom of the stairs, near the lobby."
"I'll check it out," I promised. "That's my lunch break today. Thanks."
On the way up to the conference room, I stopped and looked over the local brochures. I picked up one about the Avenue of the Arts---Fourth Street in Williamsport seems to be filled with murals and sculptures. I pocketed that one for later. Then I went up and got a seat in the seminar.
I plugged in my laptop---Low-budget public library machine; you can't depend on the batteries---And set out my notebook. I had the pen with the little multi-tools built in. It hadn't started yet, so I grabbed my camera and went off in search of the stairwell.
I found the photo after a short search. Framed photo, black and white, clearly old. The little girl was on the right side, and she was blurry as hell. Could be a ghost. Could be a fidgety kid. I got out my camera, turned off the flash, and got a picture for myself.
Back upstairs, I sat down with the laptop and a coffee. There were maybe twenty people in the room; New Boss was near the front. The instructor began talking about some of the library information systems we had available. I had the main page open. I also e-mailed LaKeshia in another window, asking if the Pennsylvania Wilds was interested in an article about the Avenue of the Arts.
I listened to the seminar for a little while, but to be fair, it got boring real fast. I opened another window and did a search for the Genetti Hotel.
Found it. Completed in 1922. The architect was William Lee Stoddart. Okay. that's a start, let's dig into him.
He was a fairly famous architect, responsible mostly for hotels. There was tons of information on his work, but very little on his family. I found one page that repeated the laundry chute story the hotel employee had told me, with no sourcing. It named the girl as Allison, but gave no other details. I looked up at the instructor and asked a question to prove I was paying attention, then went back to not paying attention.
Stoddart's biography detailed his two marriages. He'd been married once, divorced in 1909, and then remarried in 1923. I drank some coffee and did the math in my head. Making the safe assumption that he wasn't bringing illegitimate children to work with him, that would make the youngest possible age of his child about thirteen or fourteen while the hotel was in construction. A little old to be the little girl tumbling down a laundry chute like a moron.
LaKeshia e-mailed back, okaying the Avenue of the Arts piece. I tried Stoddart on findagrave. I hate findagrave; it's a clumsy way to handle cemetery research, but a county away from home in a seminar, it was all I had. I found him buried in New Jersey, and I checked for other family members. He had one daughter listed, who had died in 1998.
So, the story about the little girl had to be untrue.
I checked my watch, and slipped my camera out of my pack. Then I discreetly got out my portable ghost-hunting kit---I generally have a little basic equipment on me, just in case. You never know. I clipped the black packet to my belt.
"It's time to break for lunch," said the instructor. "We have a meal available to order, or you can go out for lunch. Whatever you choose."
Everyone stood up. Toward the back of the room, I spotted my old friend JA. She used to work at the library before accepting a director position somewhere else. She smiled at me.
"Hey, Lou! I wondered if you were going to be here. How's everything?"
"Good to see you, JA! I'm good. How about you?"
"Pretty good, pretty good." JA had always been a high-intensity sort of person; when she was speaking to you, you had her whole attention to the point her eyes practically burned lasers through you. "How's the little guy?"
"Oh, he's good. In Georgia with his mother right now. He's such a funny little guy." I got out the latest photo of Paul, and showed it to her. She smiled.
"He's a growing boy," she said. "He still believe in Santa? You can still play that card?"
"Right now, yes."
New Boss turned to me. "What did you want to do for lunch?"
"Hunt ghosts," I said.
"Your weirdness to work ratio is something like six to one."
"So you noted on my annual performance review."
"You really going to hunt ghosts?"
"Actually," I said,"I thought I'd just go for a walk."
I love this. I can't help it---I've always loved sneaking off on a little side quest while everyone thinks I'm doing something else. I've spent half my life doing that. Over lunch, my plan was to get photos and information for the Pennsylvania Wilds, and check out the haunting in the ballroom. It's amazing what you can accomplish over lunch hour if you move fast enough.
I walked out the front doors of the Genetti and onto Fourth Street, heading southwest. I put my lanyard with the PA Wilds ID on it around my neck. There is no real reason for this, other than it makes me feel like a low-budget Hemingway. I got photos of the Inspiration Mural and the Community Arts Center. The Long Island Medium was advertised to appear there in about a week, which pissed me off. I turned and walked back northeast, then turning onto Pine Street for more photos.
There was a wonderful bas relief of the lumbering era on the side of a building, and the corner of Third and Market was set up to be a baseball field, with statues of children playing ball. I took pictures of all of it.
I looked at my watch; I'd only managed to kill about twenty minutes. I could even grab some food, if I wanted. I passed Vinnie's Italian Eatery. Vinnie's! I'd forgotten about Vinnie's; it had been at least five years since I'd been there. Definitely before Paul was born.
Five minutes later, I was standing on the sidewalk by the Heart of Downtown sculpture, eating two huge slices of vegetable pizza.
"I love Williamsport," I said aloud.
When I finished the pizza, I walked half a block down to the visitor center. The woman at the desk looked up when I walked in. "Hi! Can I answer any questions for you?"
"I'm just browsing, at the moment."
"Okay, then," she said. "You browse, and let me know if you need anything."
I picked up a couple more pamphlets to add to the article, and then I saw the stack of PA Wilds T-shirts for sale. I picked out a tan shirt with a cross-cut of a log and the PA Wilds logo on it. Id' wanted one for a while, so I spent part of my recent PA Wilds paycheck on a PA Wilds shirt.
Then back to the Genetti, where I dropped off my new shirt and then slipped down the back stairs.
The ballroom was dark, but not locked. I checked to make sure nobody was watching, and then slipped in. This was going to be a quick one, not the usual heavy investigation I would do with LHPS.
Based on the photo, I worked out about where the girl in the picture was. The room contained pillars and little alcoves under the balcony, and she was pictured in the fourth one from the left. I sought it out and unzipped my pouch.
First I checked temperature with my laser thermometer. It was an even sixty-eight degrees, pretty much uniformly throughout the room. Hell, I've worked in museums that are less climate controlled than the Genetti. Then I checked with my EMF detector. Nothing. No signals.
So. Not only was the story untrue, it was likely that the hotel wasn't even haunted.
I put my equipment back into the pouch, and went back upstairs. I sat down and cleared my search history.
JA walked by.
"Hey, pal. Finding any ghosts?"
I grinned. "Well, not today."
I walked in my back door, dropped my pack in the usual place, and hung my jacket in the cellar door. Tif was inside, sitting in a chair in the living room.
"Hi, Dad. Thought I'd drop by and clean up Paul's toys while he's away. How was your day?"
"Pretty busy, for a seminar. I looked into a haunting and worked on an article."
"Weren't you supposed to be learning things?"
"In my defense, there were other options."
"You want to have dinner tonight? I could go for a Hot Mess down at Hangar Nine."
"Not tonight, hon. I'm exhausted. Tomorrow would be better. Let's meet up after work."
"Okay, Dad." Tif headed out the door.
I sat down at the table, picking up the newspaper. Usually I skim the local papers, looking for my name. Something brushed my ankle---Kasper, our Schnauzer.
I reached down and petted him.
"You and me, pal. I know. I miss the little guy, too."
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