The Samantha Wolf Mysteries Box Set: Books 1-3 Read online

  “That’s Florence Lake,” Ted explains. “Old Shawn named it after his wife. The inn is on the far end, up that side of the mountain. You can see the lake from there. You’ll find that a lot of the landmarks on the Hollow Estate are named after family members, especially their children. Well, all except for their youngest son. Nothing is named for him. There were four boys, altogether.”

  A question hangs between Sam and Ally. Why was the youngest boy left out? They soon have the answer.

  “Joseph Hollow,” Ted announces like a carnival barker. “That’s whose ghost is supposedly haunting Hollow Inn, and-”

  “A ghost!” Sam interrupts. “You can’t be serious!”

  “There are no such things as ghosts,” Ally declares, looking to Sam for confirmation, while nervously biting at her fingernails.

  “I know. It sounds crazy.” Ted throws the empty sunflower seed wrapper onto the passenger seat. “I thought the same thing when I came to work here. But not anymore.”

  Sam waits for a punch line, but none is offered. She laughs half-heartedly at the suggestion that Ted might actually believe a ghost roams the halls of Hollow Inn. “And now what do you think?” she jeers.

  “Well, I don’t really believe in all of the haunting that’s supposedly happening, but there are some strange things going on,” Ted points out. “For instance, sounds that seem to be coming from the walls bother people during the night. A lady who was staying there claimed she was awakened by someone calling her name. When she looked around the room and saw the window open, she thought maybe she’d just heard the wind. But the same thing happened the next night. Only that time, she swore she saw a dark figure looming over her in the moonlight. Needless to say, she left the next morning. Stories like that spread like wildfire around here.”

  “How do you know that she really saw anything?” Sam asks. “She probably heard the rumors too, and let her imagination get the better of her.”

  “Maybe,” Ted agrees. “But the strange thing is that the room she stayed in was the late Joseph Hollow’s bedroom. You can laugh, but I’ve heard some weird things around the place myself. It’s not just the sounds, though. The real reason your aunt couldn’t come get you, Sam, is because of the vandalism.”

  “What!” Sam exclaims.

  “Yeah, it’s really hurt business. The whispers of a ghost might actually lure some customers in, but the other stuff is definitely running them off. It’s senseless stuff. Bushes are cut or pulled up, windows broken, tires on guest cars are slashed and their belongings are disturbed. Nothing too serious, but enough to keep the rumors flying and make people afraid to stay at the inn. I didn’t want to talk about it in front of Mr. Harrison. Your aunt asked me not to say anything to you, either. She doesn’t want to scare you.”

  “Well, I think it does sound pretty spooky,” Ally says quietly. The idea of ghosts doesn’t do anything to brighten her outlook on their trip, especially since she can’t even call for help. Reaching instinctively for her phone, she looks at Sam, and then at the suddenly threatening woods, before sitting back farther in the seat. Pressing her lips together, Ally shoves the unusable phone deep into her pocket.

  Sam pats her friend on the shoulder and tries to give her a reassuring smile. “I’m not going to worry about it, Ally. This all seems like a common story for an old house. As for the vandalism, it’s probably the local kids trying to scare people. I hope something is done about it soon, though. I couldn’t stand to see Aunt Beth and Uncle Bill lose everything they’ve put into fixing up the old place.”

  The car pushes a little harder as they reach the far end of Florence Lake and start up another steep incline. The sun is now only a faint glow on the horizon, below the lake.

  “Now,” Sam continues, turning back to Ted. “I suppose the legend is about how Joseph Hollow’s ghost came to be haunting Hollow Inn?”

  “Exactly,” Ted confirms, flashing another smile over his shoulder. Spitting the last of the sunflower shells out the open window, he quickly closes it against the cool mountain night air.

  “Florence died while giving birth to their fourth child, Joseph. Shawn believed that it was the boy’s fault. As a result, Joseph grew up being resented and unfairly treated by his father. When Joseph was sixteen, Mr. Hollow called his four sons together: Christopher, Michael, Thomas and Joseph.

  “He told them he was getting to be an old man and had made a new will. The three older boys would be allowed to stay in the house. All of their lives if they wanted to. They would be given a generous monthly allowance, monitored by Mr. Hollow’s attorney. Joseph would only receive a small amount of money. Once Shawn died, the kid would be on his own.”

  “How horrible!” Ally exclaims from the backseat. “How could he be so cruel to his own son?”

  Ted puts his hand up to stop her. “It may have been a low thing to do, Ally, but Joseph didn’t exactly have a reputation for being the ideal son, either.”

  “What do you mean?” Sam asks.

  “It’s said that Joseph was a troublemaker from day one. He enjoyed causing mischief and problems for everyone around him. He would go into the garden and pull up plants or break dishes in the kitchen, as well as other things, on purpose. Some people thought that Shawn Hollow planned to write him out of his will because he was afraid of him.”

  “Well, who could blame Joseph?” Ally protests. “How was he expected to act, knowing how his father felt about him?” She couldn’t imagine what it would feel like to know that your own father didn’t love you.

  “The only thing people saw was a young boy who couldn’t control his temper,” Ted tries to explain.

  Sam quickly makes the connection. “So that’s why everyone thinks he’s to blame for the vandalism around the mansion.”

  “But I thought that he was thrown out of the house?” Ally questions, a confused look on her face. “Don’t ghosts haunt the places where they die?”

  “The will was never carried out,” Ted continues. “The very same night that old Shawn announced his intentions, he died in his sleep. The new will he promised was never found. He was a miserly man, and it was no secret that he didn’t trust anyone but himself with his money. The four boys knew that Shawn hid most of his earnings somewhere in the mansion. They were bound and determined to find it.

  “Now, Joseph’s three older brothers were just as greedy as their father had been. They didn’t plan on sharing the money with a younger brother who was never meant to have it.

  “About a week after Shawn died, Joseph’s body was found in Florence Lake. His boat was overturned. The sheriff was satisfied with the explanation that Joseph accidentally drowned, although everyone knew that he was an excellent swimmer.

  “As far as I know,” Ted finishes, “according to the townspeople, the other three boys grew old in the house. They were basically hermits, obsessed with finding the money. They never did, though, and they blamed their failure on Joseph. They said that he kept them from it. They believed Joseph’s ghost would stay there forever, guarding the money that he felt belonged to him and driving off anyone who tried to take the house away. In the end, he finally got the place all to himself, even if he was only a ghost. That’s it. That’s how it all began.”

  As they continue through the woods, the night wins its battle and closes around them. Occasionally, the headlights expose the glowing eyes of small animals. Over the next crest, the outline of the large mansion comes into view. A full moon is already working its way up the sky behind them, illuminating the tips of the tallest trees and casting shadows where there wouldn’t normally be any. There is no mistaking the structure for anything but Hollow Inn, and Ted turns the station wagon up the long driveway.

  “The story might be convincing,” Sam says out of the darkness, “but I don’t believe in ghosts. If there is something strange going on at Hollow Inn, I’m going to find out what it is.”

  3

  VOICES FROM THE PAST

  “You two must be exhausted!”
r />   A short, rather plump woman in her mid-forties embraces the young girls at the front door. After taking off an apron covering her summer dress, she brushes a stray hair from her face. “How was your trip?” she asks, looking from one girl to the other. “I hope it wasn’t too long. I know it isn’t your idea of a fun day!”

  “It was fine, Aunt Beth,” Sam assures her, after returning the hug.

  They stand in a large entry way at the bottom of massive oak stairs that blend into the hardwood floor. To the left is an old, ornate desk set up against the wall. On top of it sits a fancy guest book for people to sign. Beyond it is an arched entrance to a grand room, and Sam can see glimpses of dark, antique furniture facing a large bay window. She can only imagine the view from there in the daylight.

  “The scenery on the way up was wonderful!” Sam continues, still looking around. To the right, mouth-watering smells drift through slatted double doors which have to lead to the kitchen. “Ted kept us entertained on the drive here.” Glancing over at the blushing man still holding their bags, she smiles.

  “What she means,” Ally quickly explains, “is that he told us some funny stories about the people around here.”

  Beth looks skeptically at Ted for a moment, but lets it go. “Thank you for getting the girls, Ted. You’re a lifesaver,” she says warmly, taking the luggage from him. She lifts the bags with ease, revealing that perhaps the plumpness is misleading.

  Ted nods politely and heads back out the door. “You’re welcome, Mrs. Clark. It was my pleasure. I’ve really got to go now, though. I still have some things to do before turning in tonight.” He waves goodbye and then closes the door behind him.

  “So, obviously, you’re Ally,” Beth says, setting the bags at the foot of the stairs. “Sam has told me enough about you that I think I could pick you out of a crowd!” Smiling, she clasps Ally’s hands, and her positive energy is contagious.

  Ally nods in confirmation, thinking that maybe it really won’t be so bad out here after all.

  “Sorry about the lack of cell service,” Beth says to them both, as if reading Ally’s mind. “They’ve been telling us for the past year that it will improve, but so far it hasn’t happened. We have internet access, but it’s on a dial-up modem and patchy. We’re the last house on a private road, so we aren’t exactly at the top of the list for extended services. Most guests don’t seem to mind, though. They come here expecting to escape the stress of daily life and actually enjoy not being available at the drop of a hat.

  “Down the hall is a phone that you’re welcome to use anytime.” She points to a narrow hall past the stairs. “I’m sure your parents would like to know you got here safely, so why don’t you go call them now while I dish up some food? I prepared a late dinner for you.”

  Sam’s stomach grumbles at the thought of eating, and she realizes just how hungry she is. “Thanks, Aunt Beth! I forgot to call before we left the bus station, so I’m sure Mom is waiting to hear from us.”

  After the girls place quick calls to home, they join Beth in the big country kitchen. In contrast to the warm, dark colors of the main house, this area is bright and cheery. It’s obvious that the kitchen was recently remodeled. While still charming, it lacks the old, antique feel of the foyer.

  “Welcome to my room,” Beth says happily. She stands at a large butcher-top table at the far end. “We wanted to keep the old charm of the inn, but I refused to work in a hundred-year-old kitchen! Besides,” she adds, placing bowls of delicious looking stew in front of them, “I love all that wood, but a kitchen needs to be…light. You know, a place that energizes you and makes you want to run around!” Laughing at herself, she scoops out a third bowl. “I ate earlier, but this smells so good that I think I’m going to have seconds!”

  Sam and Ally eagerly sit down and start eating while Beth adds fresh rolls to the meal and pours glasses of milk. She then joins them, talking in between mouthfuls, waving a roll in the air. “Don’t worry about your bags. Your Uncle Bill can take them up to your rooms later when he gets here. He wasn’t able to meet you because he had to go to a town in the opposite direction.

  “As you’ve seen, we are quite remote here. The two closest towns are almost an hour’s drive. The bus depot is in Jackson, which doesn’t have much more than the depot, post office, bar and church. Bill had to go to Sunnydale, where they have several stores, to get some special fixtures. We’re still in the process of doing some remodeling,” she adds hastily, looking down at her bowl.

  “Oh…Mr. Harrison at the depot said something about a ‘mishap’ here. Is everything okay?” Sam asks innocently.

  Putting her spoon down, Beth studies her niece for a moment. “That Mr. Harrison is a busybody,” she finally says, her food forgotten. “It was nothing, just some local kids jumping on the legend bandwagon.”

  “Legend?” Ally asks hesitantly, looking guiltily at Sam. It’s not like they’re lying, but neither girl feels right about misleading their host.

  “Please,” Beth states, smiling again. “Don’t try to tell me that Ted didn’t give you all the details on the way here.”

  When Sam starts to deny it, Beth holds up a hand. “I’ve been around awhile, Sam. Long enough to know how to read people. Don’t worry about it,” she continues, seeing the look of concern on Sam’s face. “I don’t mind. You would have heard about it eventually. Kinda hard to avoid it out here. It’s just a bunch of folklore anyways. I don’t put much merit in it. There have been some unexplained occurrences, but certainly nothing that I would say a ghost is capable of. Regardless of which it is, though, ghosts or kids, it still upsets paying guests.”

  “What sort of things have been happening, Mrs. Clark?” Ally asks tentatively.

  “Ally, please call me Aunt Beth. And it’s just some mindless vandalism around the grounds. Visitors get spooked over little things. An old house makes a lot of noise, but fueled by the legend, it becomes whispering ghosts as far as the guests are concerned.”

  “What I don’t understand,” Sam says, “is how anyone can know the story in such detail when it happened so long ago. Do you think any of it is even true?”

  “Well, it’s only been ten years since Mr. Hollow’s last son died. No one lived here since then, and everyone says it’s because the place has such a strange reputation. No one wanted to buy it. Ten years isn’t very long, though. As for knowing the distant past, the realtors we bought the house from said they found Shawn Hollow’s journal when they cleaned up the place. The three boys passed on the stories from that book themselves, telling how it all began.”

  “Do you have the journal?” Sam asks with excitement. “Can we see it?”

  Beth laughs at her niece’s enthusiasm. “Sure, Sam. I’ll try to find it.” Placing her empty bowl in the dishwasher, she looks at the ceiling. “I think it’s in one of the old trunks in the attic.”

  Sam is surprised when her aunt walks briskly from the room. She didn’t expect her to go look for it right now.

  “Your Aunt Beth is really nice,” Ally says, watching her leave. “I hope she isn’t just pretending not to be mad.”

  “No, if she were mad, she would say so. Aunt Beth doesn’t mess around that way. She’ll let you know what she’s thinking. I found that out at a young age.” Smiling now, Sam finishes the last bite of stew and adds her bowl to the washer. “Just don’t break something and try to hide it. That makes her really mad.”

  Ally laughs at this and helps Sam finish clean up the dinner. By the time they figure out where things go, they hear Beth coming back down the stairs. Moments later, she reappears through the swinging kitchen doors, holding a large hardcover book in the crook of her arm. Its yellowing pages are visible between the worn covers.

  “Here it is!” Beth exclaims. “It was right on top of the second chest I opened. Read all you like, girls. You’ll probably find it quite entertaining. I haven’t read it myself, but Shawn Hollow was said to be a fine writer.”

  Sam carefully takes the book from
her aunt and randomly picks a page to read out loud.

  “July 19, 1925 Today Florence went into labor with our fourth child. I’ve sent Christopher for Doctor Suthers. He should return by morning. It’s different this time. The pain seems to be worse and Miss Nancy can’t keep dear Florence calm. It’s almost as if the baby is fighting her.”

  Sam says nothing, but turns eagerly to the next entry.

  “July 20, 1925 Florence died this morning. Christopher returned by dawn, as I expected, but the doctor arrived too late. From her death I acquired a son, but I can’t possibly love someone who killed the only person in my life who loved me back.”

  “My,” Aunt Beth exhales. “That certainly is a sad story, for both Shawn and Joseph. It wasn’t the boy’s fault, but I sympathize with how Shawn must have felt in that moment.”

  “You really haven’t read this, Aunt Beth?” Sam asks, surprised. “I thought that’s how you know so much.”

  “No, I’ve only skimmed over a few pages. I think the only person to read the whole thing was Thomas Hollow. He was the last son that lived here. He died ten years ago, in 2003, and was the one who found the journal. He told the stories, and they’ve continued to be passed on. I imagine they’ve been changed a bit in order to suit the imaginations of paranoid neighbors.”

  The doors to the kitchen open again and a tall older man with slightly graying hair steps into the room.

  “Uncle Bill!” Sam exclaims, jumping from her chair.

  Mr. Clark sets down his bag of groceries and embraces his niece, then steps back. “Look at you!” he says, surprised. “You’ve grown up so much over the last three years!”

  Sam grins at her uncle, and introduces Ally before sitting back down.

  “Welcome to Hollow Inn,” Uncle Bill says to them both. “We’re sure glad that you were able to come.”