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I wearily unlocked the door to my camper.
Geist let out a happy bark as she trotted up to greet me, tail wagging.
Well, at least someone was happy to see me.
After Hal and Gia left me in Room 16 at the Hotel Vendome, I had a confusing phone conversation with Craig, who was having difficulty understanding what precisely had happened. He also seemed inordinately focused on who Hal was and why he was in my room.
After I finally hung up with him, I spent the rest of the night crouched in the corner, eyes peeled for any other ghostly encounters.
Nothing happened.
I must have dozed off at some point because when I opened my eyes, the morning sun was streaming through my room.
Stiff and sore, my neck and back aching, and my eyes gritty from lack of sleep, I took a hot shower to try and loosen my muscles up. It didn't really help.
I tried to console myself. At least I had a story for my blog, right? A real ghostly encounter with Noble, the ghost cat, who ate a living mouse (never mind that ghosts don't normally eat)! That really happened … didn’t it?
So what if I couldn't find any trace of the mouse, or really, any trace of anything happening last night. The mouse could have disappeared in some hole somewhere. And ghosts, well they don't leave a trail anyway.
Right?
As I was leaving, I noticed the maid cart by the room Hal stayed in. It was pretty early for him to be out and about.
Or did he already check out?
I went down to the lobby, passing a couple guys wearing white exterminator shirts. Gia wasn't in the lobby; instead, there was a middle-aged, grumpy-looking woman drinking a huge cup of coffee. She was on the phone, complaining about millennials' lack of work ethic. She checked me out without ever interrupting her conversation, and when I left, she was still complaining.
I shut the door of the camper and slumped on the bed. Maybe what I really needed was a nap.
My phone rang. It was my sister Katie.
"Seen a vampire yet?" she asked, shouting over a loud buzzing in the background.
"I already told you I'm not looking for vampires," I said tiredly. "I'm a ghost hunter."
"You sound exhausted," she yelled.
"I AM exhausted," I said. "What's with the noise?"
"Oh the kids are sawing something," she said.
"With a chainsaw?"
"Well, something. They're using some sort of power tool."
"Is that safe?"
"Well, it's not like they're unsupervised," Katie said. "I'm standing right here."
I wondered about that, but decided I was too tired to ask.
"So, what happened to you?" she asked.
I told her everything that happened last night, with only a few interruptions from Katie, who wanted to make sure the cat's tail remained out of harm's way.
"Well, that sounds like good news," she said when I was done. "You saw a ghost, right?"
"Maybe," I said. I was feeling more and more discouraged the longer I talked.
"What are you talking about, 'maybe’?" she asked. "You heard Noble! What more do you want?"
I slumped further in my seat. "Maybe I'm just tired, but I don't know … maybe this whole thing was a bad idea."
"What??? Why would you say that?"
"Well, I don't have any equipment except for a stupid compass. Which probably IS broken, although it seems to be working now. I didn't really see anything except for a mouse, which was alive. Yeah, we heard something, but who knows what it was. Maybe it was a noise from outside, or, I don't know, the water heater. The hotel is old, after all. Old hotels make noises."
"But, the cold …"
"Could have been a draft," I interrupted. "Everything could have a reasonable explanation. A broke compass. A draft. Maybe Coco is right and this whole ghost thing is silly."
"Riley, stop. Just stop," Katie said. "This is silly. You're being silly."
I blinked. "What do you mean?"
"What did you think was going to happen? Riley, you're doing something completely new! Of course you're going to have hiccups and problems. That's just par for the course."
"Yes, but …"
"And, besides, you ARE having success! You saw Faith at the Hassayampa Inn, right? And I'm sure it WAS Noble you heard. So, just because it's not looking like you thought it should look, doesn't mean it's not successful."
"But, I don't even understand how all that ghost equipment actually works. Shouldn't a ghost hunter know that stuff?" I argued. "And, my blog isn't up yet." Not to mention I wasn't famous yet either, I thought. But I couldn't bring myself to say it out loud.
"Riley," Katie said sternly. "You are not a quitter. You've never been a quitter in your entire life. Are you going to start now?"
I thought about what Katie was telling me. Maybe I was being too hard on myself. Maybe I did need to give it more time and space to succeed.
Besides, Katie was right. I wasn't a quitter.
I straightened up. "You're right," I said. "This is what I want to do. I've always dreamed of being a ghost hunter and I'm going to keep going."
"That's my girl," Katie said. "I have to go. I'm not sure where the cat is."
I hung up the phone and reached down to rub Geist's ears. "You like being a ghost hunter, too, right?" I asked.
Geist groaned and rolled over on her back so I could rub her belly.
So, now what I needed was a plan. Where should my next ghost-hunting adventure take me?
What I really needed to do was take a nap first. Then, I could look at all my options with a clear head and figure out where I wanted to go next.
A loud pounding on my camper door startled me, and I jumped. Who could that possibly be? No one knew I was here.
Slight panic as the thought came to me—it couldn't possibly be a ghost who had followed me, could it?
No, ghosts didn't leave the places they haunted. Right?
More pounding. Geist went to the door and whined. I got off the bed and slowly inched my way to the door, trying to angle myself so I could see outside without whoever was there seeing me.
"Riley? Is that you? Are you in there?" The voice was muffled but recognizable.
No. It couldn't be.
I flung open the door. "Craig?"
[continued]
Riley Longhill is a fictional alter ego of Michele Pariza Wacek. The Adventures of Riley Longhill, Ghost Hunter, is a fiction account loosely based on real life ghost and haunted places. Yes, the Hotel Vendome in Prescott, Arizona is a real place and Abby and Noel are and do haunt the hotel to this day.
Read Ep 1 here.
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I squared my shoulders and flung open the closet door.
The closet looked like a normal hotel closet, with a few empty hangers on the rack, a folded blanket on the shelf, a stand for suitcases and ….
A mouse.
I blinked. Yes, there was a real-life mouse sitting in the middle of the closet.
I screamed.
The mouse let out a shriek of its own and darted away, causing me to dance backward and trip over a chair, which clattered to the floor with me.
"Riley! What's going on?" Craig's voice demanded from the phone. At the same time, there was a loud pounding on the door, causing me to scream again.
"What's going on?" a muffled male voice yelled from the other side of the door. "Do you need help?"
Was that Hal? Maybe he could get the mouse out. I untangled myself from the chair and hurried to the door.
"Hold on," I said to Craig as I started unlocking the door.
"Hold on?" Craig squawked. "Are you kidding me? Hold on?"
I ignored him and opened the door. It was Hal, his arms filled with a variety of technical devices.
"I heard screams," he said, his face barely containing his glee. "What is it? What did you see?" He started elbowing his way into my room.
"Who's that?" Craig asked from the phone, at the same time as another voice called down the hallway. "Riley? Are you okay? I thought I heard screams."
It was Gia, from the front desk. At least someone was asking me if I was okay. Unlike Hal, who was busy setting up his tech toys on my table. I noticed he had managed to knock over my ghost-hunting kit, strewing the contents (including my notebook and Reeses Peanut Butter Cups), across the floor. "What's with the compass?" he asked.
"I'm fine," I called out to Gia as she caught up to me.
"What did you see?" she asked, a little out of breath. Her face was bright with excitement.
"So, where was it?" Hal asked, leaning over his equipment and twisting and turning knobs.
"Riley, what on earth is going on there?" Craig asked.
I opened my mouth to explain about the mouse when I saw something move by my notebook—a little nose poked out between the pages.
I screamed again and jumped on the bed. "There! There," I shrieked. "Do you see it?"
Hal swiveled around so quickly, he dropped one of his tech gadgets. "Where? What?"
"Is it Abby?" Gia asked breathlessly, madly searching the room.
"Riley, what is going on?" Craig asked.
The nose disappeared, and I saw the papers tremble. "There! By my notebook."
"Your notebook? What?" Hal asked.
"Why would Abby be by your notebook?" Gia asked.
"Maybe it's Noble, the cat," Hal said, his movements jerky as he searched the room. He looked like a cop in a B action movie.
"No, not Abby," I said impatiently. "Or Noble. It's a mouse."
Hal's face went blank. "A what?"
Gia looked confused. "A mouse? I don't remember anyone ever talking about a ghost mouse before. Could Noble have killed it?"
"No! Not a ghost mouse," I said. "A real one."
"There's a mouse in your hotel room?" Craig asked from the phone.
"We don't have mice," Gia said indignantly.
"But, I saw it," I said.
Hal finally found my notebook and slowly approached it, nudging it with his foot. Nothing happened. "Are you sure you saw a mouse?"
"Positive," I said.
"I've never seen any mice in this hotel," Gia said.
"Well, there was one in this room," I said.
"Where did you see it?" Hal asked.
"In the closet."
Hal's eyes went wide. "The closet? Where Noble died? Are you sure you saw a mouse and not the cat?"
"I know what I saw, Hal," I said.
"Who is Hal?" Craig asked.
Hal went over to the closet to examine it.
"I can't believe we have a mouse," Gia said. She turned to me. "Are you sure?"
"If there was a mouse," Hal said, his head in the closet. "It seems to be gone now."
"It's not in the closetnow," I said. "I told you, I saw it by my notebook."
Hal glanced at my notebook. "I already checked there. There was no mouse." He turned to stare at me. "If there was a mouse, where did it go?"
"Are you saying I'm lying?" I asked.
Hal held his hands up. "I'm not accusing you of anything …."
"I know what I saw! I saw a mouse."
"Okay, you saw a mouse," Hal said. "But, it's not here now."
I opened my mouth to argue, but then closed it. I was starting to feel foolish, standing here on the bed yelling about a mouse that seemed to have disappeared.
"Look, there was something here," I said, awkwardly getting off the bed. "I heard noises in the closet, and when I opened the door, there it was."
"I'm not seeing any traces of anything," Hal said, moving the equipment around. "I'm happy to stay here and investigate more." He gave me a quick glance, his expression eager.
Oh sure. Steal my room away from me. He would like that. This was supposed to be my first official investigation, so I could launch my blog, and he was trying to weasel in and take all the credit.
Although … if he left, I would be alone in the room with a mouse. A mouse no one believed I saw. Is that what I wanted?
A cold draft brushed against me and I shivered. "What's with the air conditioning?" I asked Gia, grateful for the distraction.
Gia looked puzzled. "What are you talking about?"
"I keep running into these drafts," I said.
Hal's expression sharpened. "Is there one happening right now?"
I nodded. "Can't you feel it? It's like the temperature dropped 10 degrees."
Hal slowly approached, holding his tech gadgets out, his eyes glued to the readings. "Don't move," he said to me.
Don't move? Wait a minute. Am I standing by a ghost? I shivered again as a cold draft gusted over me. I could feel the hairs on the back of my neck start to stand up.
Gia's eyes widened. "Is it a ghost?" she asked.
"I'm not sure," he said. "The readings are all over the place." He shook his equipment.
"Ghost readings?" I asked.
He frowned and shook the equipment again. "I'm … uh … not sure."
"What do you mean, you're ‘not sure’?" I asked suspiciously. "What normally happens when a ghost is present?"
He ducked his head, refusing to meet my eyes. "I … ah … well, I've never actually seen a ghost before."
"You what?" I practically yelled. "I thought you did! This whole time …"
"Well, I've been tracking ghosts for the past year," he said. "I've just … well, I haven't actually had a verified encounter yet."
"A verified encounter?" I was starting to get a bad feeling. "You just told me not to move. What if this is dangerous?"
"Dangerous?" Craig asked from the phone, making me jump. I had forgotten he was still on the line. "Riley, what's happening?"
"You might ruin everything if you move," Hal said. "I need to lock down these readings."
"’Ruin everything’? But what if something happens to me?"
"Abby is friendly," Gia assured me. "She won't hurt you."
"Easy for you to say," I retorted. "You're not the one in the …"
A movement caught my eye. There was that mouse again! Rustling around my Reeses Peanut Butter Cups. "There it is," I shrieked.
Hal whipped his head around. "What? What?"
"The mouse," I said.
"I don't see anything …" he began, but he was interrupted by a low growl.
"Did you hear that?" Gia asked, taking a step closer to me.
I nodded.
"What was that?" Hal breathed, stepping closer to the wall.
"Could it be …" Gia began, but the growl turned into a yowl.
Just like an angry cat pouncing on a poor, hapless mouse.
We all stood frozen, listening to the yowling of the cat and the squeaking of the mouse.
And then, silence.
Gia, Hal,and I stared at each other.
"Riley, what's going on?" Craig asked.
"Was that …" Gia's face was white.
"That sounded like a cat," Hal said. I noticed he looked a little white himself. He started backing away toward the door.
"But Noble was always friendly …" Gia began.
"Maybe to people," I said. "But certainly not to a mouse."
Gia licked her lips. "I, uh, better get back downstairs." She began edging toward the door.
"Yeah," Hal said. "I have to … uh … a call. Yeah, that's right. I have to call my … uh … my accountant. I have a meeting I forgot about." He started following Gia.
"Wait a minute," I said. "You're both leaving me? Here? With a mouse?" I couldn't bring myself to say the word ghost. The mouse was bad enough.
"I … don't think you have to worry about the mouse anymore," Hal said. "You're good. Right?" He held the door open for Gia.
"I really have to get back to work," Gia said apologetically as she disappeared out the door. Hal shot me a weak smile and quickly left as well.
My mouth fell open as I stood there, alone in my room, watching the door close.
How could they both leave me here alone?
"Riley, what just happened?" Craig asked.
[continued]
Riley Longhill is a fictional alter ego of Michele Pariza Wacek. The Adventures of Riley Longhill, Ghost Hunter, is a fiction account loosely based on real life ghost and haunted places. Yes, the Hotel Vendome in Prescott, Arizona is a real place and Abby and Noel are and do haunt the hotel to this day.
Read Ep 1 here.
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エピソードを見逃しましたか？
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I froze, Craig's words echoing in my head.
Maybe your compass is acting like that because there's a ghost in your room.
The phone crackled. "Riley?" Craig's voice floated out. "Are you there?"
I licked my suddenly dry lip as I desperately searched the room. Everything appeared to be normal.
Except for my compass. Which was still weirdly pointed to the west no matter which way I turned it.
"Riley?" Craig said again.
"I'm here," I said, forcing the words out of my numb mouth. "I can't see …"
There it was again.
Screech.
The scratching noise.
I gasped and scrambled backwards., knocking the chair over in the process.
It was coming from the closet!
"Riley, what is going on?" Craig demanded, his voice growing louder.
"Craig, it's coming from the closet," I said as quietly as I could.
"What's coming from the closet?"
"The noise! The scratching noise."
"There's something in your closet?"
I backed up a couple more steps. "I think so."
"Riley," Craig sounded panicked. "You need to get out of your room. Now!"
Along with the scratching, I heard the jingling of a bell again. Almost like … a dog collar.
Or … maybe a cat collar.
"I don't think it's a person," I said. "I think it’s Noble."
"Who is Noble?"
"The cat." Now that I was remembering the story, I could feel myself start to calm down. "After Abby's husband left, Abby locked herself in this room, and she locked the cat in the closet … until they both starved to death. People have said they heard scratching and bells jingling from the closet before."
"So you think there's a ghost cat in the closet?" Craig sounded more than a little skeptical. "What if you're wrong?"
"Well, I suppose it could be Abby as well, but I don't remember anyone reporting any sightings of her in the closet."
"I didn't mean Abby." Craig sounded like he was trying very hard to remain patient. "I mean, what if it's an actual person? You know, someone who is still living?"
"But, what about the compass?" I argued. "You were the one who said the compass not working right was a sign that a ghost was here."
"Or, maybe you broke it when you dropped it."
"I didn't drop it. It just ended up on the floor … somehow."
"Uh huh. Point being that I wouldn't rule out a person being in your closet based on a compass."
I stared at the compass. It still stubbornly refused to shift in any direction other than west. "Well, there's one way to find out," I said. "I can go open the closet."
"No!" Craig shouted. "What if you're wrong? At least go get someone."
"I'm a ghost hunter," I said, sounding far more confident than I felt. "This is what ghost hunters do. They investigate." I wiped my sweaty hands on my shorts.
"You can still investigate with someone with you," Craig argued.
"Yes, but what if I come back and Noble is gone?" I asked. "I can't miss this chance."
"Riley, you're going to get yourself killed," Craig moaned.
"Noble won't hurt me," I said. "No one has reported any aggression from either Noble or Abby. They're friendly ghosts."
"I'm not worried about the ghosts," Craig said.
I stood up, wiping my hands again on my shorts. I could still hear the scratching and the jangling of the bell. Slowly, I started to inch my way toward the closet.
"I'm almost at the closet," I whispered. "Once I'm there, then …"
At that moment, a cold draft of air brushed against me and I shivered.
"What just happened?" Craig asked.
"Nothing, I just stepped into a cold draft," I said. "At least, I think it was just a draft."
"What else could it have been?"
I shivered again, although this time, not because of the draft. "That's part of how you know if there's a ghost around," I said. "The temperature drops."
"Or it could just actually be a draft," Craig said. "You said the hotel is old, right? Old hotels have drafts."
"Maybe," I said. "My compass is still not working."
Thump.
The noise was soft but unmistakable. Something had fallen to the floor.
Something behind me.
I spun around, nearly dropping the phone.
My ghost-hunting kit, which I had put back on the table after rescuing my compass from the floor, had fallen.
Again.
What on earth was going on?
"Riley?" Craig's voice came out of the phone. "Are you still there?"
"Yes, it's just …" I tentatively took a few steps toward the kit on the floor. "My ghost-hunting kit fell off the table again."
"Did you knock it over?"
"No. I was nowhere near it. I was by the closet and …"
The scratching noise again. In the closet. I could feel the hairs on the back of my neck start to stand on end. Maybe Craig was right, and I ought to just get out of here.
"Maybe you just didn't set it on the table right," Craig said.
The scratching noise was getting louder. "Maybe," I said. "But, what if that wasn’t it? What if it's … Abby?"
"Abby is knocking your ghost-hunting kit on the floor? I thought you said she was friendly."
"Well, she is, but … maybe she's playing a little game. Or something." I started edging toward the door. "I think you're right and I need to get some help."
"Finally," Craig's voice sounded relieved. "Yes. Get out of there. Be safe. It's probably someone playing a trick on you."
Someone playing a trick.
I thought of Hal popping out of his room like a bald jack-in-the-box. He was watching me pretty closely.
Too closely.
Could Hal be doing all of this? So I would get out of the room so he could swoop in and do the investigation?
Was I going to allow him to chase me out of my first real ghost-hunting investigation?
I straightened my shoulders. Hell no!
Besides, wasn't that my job as a ghost hunter? To debunk hauntings that aren't real?
If someone was in here playing a trick, I owed it to ghost hunters everywhere to get to the bottom of it and expose it.
"I have to check the closet first," I said to Craig.
"Wait. What? Riley, no! What if it's dangerous?"
"Too bad," I said firmly, marching over to the closet door. I could still hear the scratching. "I'm a ghost hunter, Craig. I investigate. That's what I'm doing now. Whether it's a person or Noble or Abby, it's my job to get to the bottom of what's going on here."
"Oh God," Craig said.
I took a deep breath, squared my shoulders, and gripped the doorknob of the closet door firmly. I took a deep breath and flung it open.
And screamed.
[continued]
Riley Longhill is a fictional alter ego of Michele Pariza Wacek. The Adventures of Riley Longhill, Ghost Hunter, is a fiction account loosely based on real life ghost and haunted places. Yes, the Hotel Vendome in Prescott, Arizona is a real place and Abby and Noel are and do haunt the hotel to this day.
Read Ep 1 here.
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I knew something was off the moment I stepped back into my room, Room 16, Abby's room. At first, I couldn't pinpoint exactly what it was. Did it feel different? Look different? Smell different? I did a careful scan. What was I missing? The bedspread was still smooth and untouched. My ghost hunting kit was on the floor. My overnight bag was next to the closet … Wait a minute. My ghost hunting kit was on the chair when I left. Not on the floor. Or … was it? Now I wasn't sure. I thought back to all the things I did when I first walked into the hotel room. Yes, I was sure I put my ghost hunting kit on the chair because I wanted to get my compass out. And … Hold on. Where was my compass? Oh God. I could feel the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. My compass was gone. I was SURE I left it on the table. I had been trying to figure out the whole north business, and I set it down when I left the room. Although, now that I thought about it, couldn't I have just looked at the compass? Why did I feel the need to go find Gia? But, that was beside the point. Right now, I needed to find that compass. I quickly searched and discovered it laying on the floor, upside down, like it had been knocked off the table. Had I done that? Or … was it Abby? A cold touch of fear caressed my spine. I shivered. I looked around the room, seeking any sign of a ghostly presence. But everything seemed perfectly normal. Other than my compass being on the floor. I picked it up and tried to orient it to north. But, no matter which way I pointed it, it stayed west. Something was wrong. What happened to it? Did it somehow get broken when it fell off the table? I laid it down and stared at it. Now what? I had been so excited to finally have a piece of ghost-hunting equipment in my ghost-hunting kit. Now that it was broken, I felt so disappointed. Should I try to fix it? How would I do that? A little voice inside me answered: Craig would know. No! I'm NOT calling Craig. He's my EX-boyfriend, which means I don't call him to help me fix problems. Well, if not him, then who? I didn't get the feeling Gia knew her way around a toolkit. I suppose I could knock on Hal's door. He seemed like a pretty handy guy. Probably be happy to help, so he could try and weasel his way into this room and do his own investigation. Of course, then I'd have to admit I was a ghost hunter with no ghost-hunting equipment. No thanks. Or I could just continue investigating the way I started—with no equipment. And my trusty snacks, of course. And caffeine. But, that felt like failure. I was upleveling! I needed actual ghost-hunting equipment. It appeared I had no choice. I had to call Craig. "Riley, this is a surprise." I squirmed a little. "I need your help." "Oh. So NOW you're asking me for help." "If you don't want to help, then just tell me," I snapped. God, this was a bad idea. I never should have called. "I didn't say I wouldn't help," he said. "What do you need? Do you need me to come over?" "It might be tough for you to come over as I'm still in Prescott, Arizona," I said. "Are you still in a broom closet?" "No! I'm in the Hotel Vendome. I'm investigating Abby and her cat Noble. I'm actually in her room." "You're investigating a cat?" "I'm investigating ghosts," I said impatiently. "Abby and Noble are both ghosts." "A ghost cat," Craig mused. "Okay, so what do you need my help with?" I sighed. "My compass broke." "Compass? What on earth do you need a compass for? You're not tracking a ghost, are you?" Creak. Groan. Some sort of shuffling noise against the hotel door. What was that? "Not tracking as in following a ghost," I answered, trying to focus on my conversation with Craig. "It's part of my ghost-hunting equipment." The shuffling grew louder. I shifted so I could get a better view of the door, but I couldn't see anything. The hotel was pretty old. It was probably just the normal settling noises that occur in an old building. "How does a compass fit into ghost hunting?" "Well, it shows EMFs." "EMFs? Are you talking about electromagnetic fields?" There was a lot of creaking and shuffling going on near the door. What was it? Was I hearing something in the hallway? Was Gia there? Or Hal? Trying to listen in to me? How dare he! "EMFs indicate ghosts," I said. "In other words, you don't know what you're talking about." "No, that's not true. I did some research." "Research? What kind of research?" The noise was driving me crazy. I had to put a stop to it. I started edging toward the door. Maybe I could catch Hal in the act of listening in on me. That would embarrass him, but good! "Research on ghost-hunting equipment," I said to Craig. "One of the main pieces of equipment is an EMF meter." "Why don't you have an EMF meter?" I was trying to quietly creep up to the door, but I stepped on a board that made a particularly loud squeak. I winced. "Do you have any idea how expensive ghost-hunting equipment is?" "I don't understand. What does any of this have to do with a compass?" Finally, I reached the door. I took a deep breath, grasped the door handle and flung it open. "Ah ha!" I yelled. "What are you …?" The hallway was empty. "Riley?" Craig's voice came out from the phone. "What's going on? Are you okay?" One of the other doors opened then, and Hal's shiny bald head popped out. I quickly backed into the room and shut the door. God, how embarrassing. "I'm okay," I said. "I thought I heard something in the hallway." "You thought there was something in the hallway? Did you look through the peephole?" "Ah …" That would have made more sense. "Everything is fine." "Riley, what were all those sounds I heard?" Craig asked. "Did you just open the door because you heard noises in the hallway? What if someone was there? What would you have done?" "I can protect myself," I said. "Besides, everything is fine. I still need your help with the compass." Craig sighed. "Okay, so what is going on with it? And I still don't understand why you have one." I left the door and went back to the table where I had left my ghost-hunting equipment and the compass. "I watched a do-it-yourself video, and the video said I could use a compass to detect ghostly activities. But, there's something wrong with it." The noises started again from outside the hallway, but now they sounded more like scratches. I decided to ignore them. "What's the compass doing?" I picked it up and shook it. "It's stuck. It's not moving, no matter which way I turn it." "Did you check it in the store?" "Yes, I just …" "Just what?" "Well, it ended up on the floor." "You dropped it?" "I don't think I dropped it. I left it on the table, and when I came back, it was on the floor." "So, how did it get there?" "I don't know." The scratching grew louder. It was getting harder to ignore. "Riley," Craig said slowly. "What's supposed to happen to the compass if there's a ghost?" "Well, it's supposed to go crazy or something. Not act like a compass." The scratching was really loud now. And what was that high-pitched jingling noise? Was that a … bell? Why would there be a bell? "Riley, your compass isn'tacting like a compass," Craig said. "Maybe it's not broken. Maybe it's doingthat because there's a ghost in your room." [continued] Riley Longhill is a fictional alter ego of Michele Pariza Wacek. The Adventures of Riley Longhill, Ghost Hunter, is a fiction account loosely based on real life ghost and haunted places. Yes, the Hotel Vendome in Prescott, Arizona is a real place and Abby and Noel are and do haunt the hotel to this day. Read Ep 1 here.
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As I packed for my big night in Abby's room, Room 16 in the Hotel Vendome, I couldn't stop thinking about my conversation with Hal. Was I doing this ghost hunting thing all wrong? I didn't have any of the equipment he talked about—my ghost-hunting kit consisted of a notebook, a flashlight, and a camera. Well, all that and food. Because you might get hungry waiting for a ghost to show up. And caffeine. Because how else do you stay awake in the middle of the night? But, maybe it was time to kick it up a notch. Become more professional. After all, other famous ghost hunters probably had all that technical equipment Hal mentioned, so maybe that's what I needed to do: invest in some high-tech gadgets. The problem was, I didn't know where to start. Was there a store somewhere that stocked this kind of stuff? Would they show me how to use everything? There probably wasn't time for Amazon to ship it all to me in time for tonight's ghost hunt. Maybe the Internet could help. But, a couple of searches later, my head was spinning. Spirit boxes. Infrared motion detectors. REM pods. Digital thermometers. Thermal imaging devices. EMF meters. Ion counters. Radiation detectors. Wait a minute. Radiation detectors? Are ghosts radioactive? Was I going to get radiation poisoning doing this? Oh man, I could practically hear Coco telling me “I told you so.” Actually, a little more research revealed that no, ghosts aren't radioactive, but radiation detectors could pick up EVPs. I had no idea what EVPs were, but they sounded important. I would have to remember that the next time I talked to Hal. But, back to the more pressing concern—how could I get all this stuff before tonight? Not to mention, how would I afford it all? That’s when I saw it in the search results: do-it-yourself ghost-hunting equipment! This had possibilities. I mean, how hard could it be? It had to be easier than putting together a swing set, right? There was even a YouTube video. Actually, a whole series of YouTube videos. Although, tools would be a bit of a problem, since I didn't own any. Hmmm. But, wait—this EMF meter. The do-it-yourself version is just a regular old cheap compass. I could definitely go buy one of those. That was totally within my skill set. And, while I was at it, I better buy a bigger bag to house my rapidly growing ghost-hunting kit. After getting my new items, I was already feeling more professional. Plus, I had new acronyms to throw around, like “EMF” and “EVP.” See, there was something to this upleveling. The phone rang. It was Coco. "Got your blog up yet?" she asked. "Better," I said. "I'm spending the night at the Hotel Vendome. In Room 16. Abby's room." "Well, that's certainly a better choice than a broom closet." I decided to ignore that. "And, I have actual ghost-hunting equipment." "Really? What were you using before?" "Well, I had the basics," I said evasively. "But now I have actual ghost-hunting equipment." "Wow, I'm impressed," Coco said. "Did you spend a lot?" "No, because I found a build-your-own ghost-hunting equipment site." "Wait," Coco said. "You're telling me you built it yourself? Don't you remember what happened with the swing set?" "We don't need to talk about the swing set," I said hastily. "Savannah is just fine." "You hope." "The doctor assured us there was no lasting damage," I said. "But, never mind that. Building my own ghost-hunting equipment was way easier." "Really?" Coco didn't sound convinced. "So, what did you build?" "An EMF meter," I said proudly. "What's that?" "What do you think? It tracks EMFs." "Which are?" "It means there's a ghost nearby," I said exasperated. Maybe I needed to do more research so I would have better answers. "Sounds complicated," Coco said. "How did you build it?" "Well, you see, this is the best part," I said. "It's a compass." "Wait, what? Why do you need a compass? To track which direction the ghost is going?" "No, nothing like that. If the compass goes crazy and starts spinning around, that means there's a ghost nearby." "I don't understand. Did you have to modify the compass in some way?" "No, I didn't have to do anything. It's just a compass." "So, compasses detect EMFs?" "I guess." "Hmmm. Okay, so the compass spins around and then what?" "What do you mean, ‘then what’? Then there's a ghost." "That's it?" "Well, I have to investigate," I said. "Take pictures and record it. Maybe try and talk to it." "Hmmm. You haven't thought this through, have you?" "I'm a ghost hunter," I said. "Of course I have." "Okay, Ms. Ghost Hunter," Coco said. "If this all happens with a compass, then why do people buy EMF meters?" "Marketing," I said. "And, well, maybe the EMF meters have a few more bells and whistles." "Maybe the EMF meter also tells you what to do next." "I know what to do next." "Uh huh. So, you're going to bring a compass tonight. Anything else?" "I have a whole ghost-hunting kit," I said evasively. I didn't think Coco wanted to hear about my snacks. "Look, I gotta go. I want to be in position early." "Good luck," she said as she hung up. I finished packing, said goodbye to Geist, my ghost-hunting dog, told her to hold down the fort for me, and headed off to Hotel Vendome and Room 16. Gia was there and checked me in. "Oooh, I'm so excited you're here," she said, handing me my key. This is it: Room 16. My first step in becoming a famous ghost hunter! Thinking about Room 16 reminded me of Hal, and I furtively looked around for him. There was no sign of him in either the lobby or the bar. Good, maybe that meant I wouldn't run into him. "I'm excited, too," I said. "I'll definitely tell you if I see anything." Gia grinned and clapped her hands as I headed up to Room 16. The hotel was quiet as I made my way up the stairs and down the hallway. My footsteps creaked on the old floor. The atmosphere definitely set the stage for a ghost hunt. Plus, the hotel looked like a throwback from the Wild West era. I could easily imagine Abby and her cat Noble flitting along these hallways … I wasn't sure what I was expecting when I opened the door to Room 16. A banner saying "Abby Stayed Here?" Decorated in Halloween orange and black? Abby standing in the middle of the room, welcoming me with a ghostly cup of tea? But, it was just a room, like any other room. Charming and quaint but still just a room. I paused to take a few deep breaths, concentrating on whether or not I could feel anything—any sign of a presence. But, no. The room felt like any other hotel room. Well, it was still early, I told myself, trying to squash down my disappointment. On the other hand, did I really expect it to be so easy? I took a few minutes to unpack my ghost-hunting kit and lay out my EMF meter/aka compass. I placed it flat on a table, just like the video instructed, and studied it. No, the needle wasn't whirling around. No Abby. At least, not yet. Oh wait. The video also said I needed to know which way was north. I rotated around the room squinting. How to know which way was north? Maybe Gia knows. I headed back down to the lobby. "North?" Gia frowned. "I have no idea. Is that important?" I wasn't sure, myself, but the video said I needed to know. "Well it helps," I said. "Maybe stand outside? Look at the sun?" Gia offered doubtfully. "It's setting that way." She pointed. "So, north must be … uh, that way?" She pointed to her left. "No. that way. It's to the right." Of course. The sun. I should have thought of that. A professional, famous ghost hunter would have. I really needed to step up my game. I thanked her and headed back up to my room. As I crossed the hallway, a door popped open and Hal stuck his head out. My heart sank. "Oh, it’s you," he said. His bald head gleamed in the light, and he squinted at me from behind his thick glasses. "Just wanted to let you know I’m right here. So, if you have any problems tonight, you know where I am." He gave me a big smile that I instantly distrusted. Why oh why did Gia have to put him in the room right next to me? [continued] Riley Longhill is a fictional alter ego of Michele Pariza Wacek. The Adventures of Riley Longhill, Ghost Hunter, is a fiction account loosely based on real life ghost and haunted places. Yes, the Hotel Vendome in Prescott, Arizona is a real place and Abby and Noel are and do haunt the hotel to this day. Read Ep 1 here.
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To start my research on all the ghost sightings of Abby, the ghost at Hotel Vendome (along with her cat, Noble, who is also part of the real ghost stories and true hauntings lore), I decided to check out the local Sharlot Hall Museum, which is dedicated to preserving Prescott's rich Western history. Prescott is actually an old mining town, over a hundred years old. (Which explains why it's the site of so many ghost sightings and real ghost stories.) It was even the first capital of Arizona. Doc Holiday apparently spent some time here gambling (and killing a few folks!) before joining Wyatt Earp in Tombstone (He was likely in Prescott for the same reason as Abby as they both had TB). Big Nose Kate (Doc's girlfriend) also apparently worked here for a short time as a prostitute. I'm unclear if that was before or after Doc's death, and how much Doc had to do with her decision to work a prostitute, but if it was before and if he did have something to do with it, might Big Nose Kate's ghost be flitting around here, too? Maybe she’s even haunting Doc Holiday as payback for the whole prostitution thing. I mean, it seems just as bad as the whole “going out for cigarettes and never coming back” ordeal Abby went through. (If you missed that episode, check it out here.) Anyway, I digress. I'm not looking for Big Nose Kate's ghost right now, anyhow. This is about Abby and Noble. I figured if there were any records of true hauntings and real ghost stories around Prescott, I’d find them at Sharlot Hall Museum. What I discovered there is that Abby was actually the source of a couple of books, The Search for Abby, and Hotel Vendome: The Story of Prescott's Historic Haunted Hotel, both by Ken Edwards. I was SO excited to learn that there had been so many ghost sightings of her over the years that there was enough fodder for not one but two books. Apparently, both Abby and Noble liked to roam all over the hotel. Well, now that I had more background, it was time to go check out the Hotel Vendome. From the outside, it looked more like a bed and breakfast than a hotel. It was a charming building located a block off of Prescott's famous downtown and Whiskey Row. Better yet, inside there’s even a little bar. How perfect! I couldn't think of a better way to research than over a glass of wine. I immediately headed over. It had to be five o'clock somewhere, right? There was one woman standing behind the check-in desk. When she saw me head over to the bar on the other side of the lobby, she followed me. "What can I get you?" She wore black, had short black hair too black to be anything but dyed, and multiple piercings, most in her ears but one in her nose, too. The only thing that wasn't black on her was a small white name tag that read, "Gia." I ordered a glass of wine and explained I was there to learn more about Abby. "Oh, you'll want this," she said, after pouring my wine. She disappeared for a moment and came back with a huge book, which she plopped down in front of me. "This is our Abby book." [caption id="attachment_638" align="alignleft" width="225"] Well this should keep me busy.[/caption] I started to page through. It was loaded with real ghost stories and ghost sightings of both Abby and Noble, and it went back years. I was amazed. "Have you seen Abby?" I asked Gia. She shook her head. "I'm still pretty new. But, I'm hoping." She folded her arms and leaned over the bar. "To be honest, a big reason why I took this job was because I want to see her." "Really?" Oh, this was perfect. A fellow ghost hunter. "I'm a ghost hunter." She widened her eyes. "Oh my God, that's so cool. Are you on a show or anything?" "I have a blog," I said. It was technically true, right? I had bought the domain name, so that meant I had it. Just because I hadn't actually started posting didn't mean it didn’t exist. "But, I'm still just getting started," I continued, seeing her start to open her mouth, presumably to ask me for the URL. "So, you're here to see Abby's room, right? Room 16?" "I would LOVE to see room 16. Can I? Is it open?" "Let me go check." She left the bar and I went back to sipping my wine and perusing the Abby book. "You are so in luck," she called out excitedly. "It's available tonight! Do you want to stay?" Did I want to stay? I did, but what about Geist? And was it smart to spend the money when I had a perfectly good trailer to stay in? Oh, the hell with it. Geist will be fine. More importantly, I needed to prove myself to Coca and Craig and Katie that I was serious about becoming a ghost hunter. "Let's do it." "Yes!" She seemed almost as excited as I was. I handed her my credit card and she got me checked in. "Think you might mention me on your blog?" She asked handing me back my card. "You never know," I said, although I had never thought about writing about the people I met along the way. I'd have to consider. Gia looked like she was going to say something else, but right then an older, balding man with dark-framed glasses walked into the lobby, dragging a wheeled suitcase behind him. She excused herself to help him and I went back to the Abby book. There were so many stories. One woman had brought ghost-hunting equipment and had noticed big spikes in Room 16, indicating lots of a paranormal activity. Another one had gone to bed with the closet door closed and, in the morning, found it open. Still others had had their belongings moved around the room. [caption id="attachment_640" align="alignright" width="300"] Did I mention how big the Abby book is?[/caption] I was deep in a story about one of the employees who had an encounter with Abby in the basement when a voice next to me said, "You took my room." I jumped, nearly spilling my wine. "I'm sorry?" It was the man who had just checked in. "Room 16. Abby's room? That's the room I was going to stay in." "Ah," I wasn't sure what to say. Was he joking? Was he angry? I couldn't tell. He gestured with his head toward my new ghost-hunting friend Gia. "She says you're a ghost hunter, too?" His voice was friendly enough, but his eyes narrowed slightly behind his glasses. "Well, ah, I'm just getting started," I said as Gia popped up from behind the bar. "She's got a blog, too," she announced. "And I'm going to be on it." Well, I guess I didn't have to worry about that decision anymore. "Oh really," the man said. "What's your blog? Maybe I've heard of it." "Like I said, I'm still getting started," I said, reaching for my wine. In my haste, I spilled a few drops on the Abby book. "Oh no!" The red wine looked like blood glistening on the ghostly pages. [caption id="attachment_639" align="alignleft" width="300"] Thank goodness for plastic pages![/caption] Gia reached over with a bar rag to wipe it off. "Don't worry about it. That's why we have plastic sheets over all the pages." "Did you want to check out the Abby book?" I asked the man, feeling both relieved that the discussion was now off my blog and embarrassed about the spill. "Sure. I'll take a look," he said as I slid the book over. "Gotta do some research myself for my own blog." "Oh, are you a ghost hunter, too?" "Yep. Amateur. I have the equipment right here." He patted his suitcase. "I was really looking forward to using it today." I wasn't sure how I should answer that. Sorry? Better luck next time? Maybe this would be an excellent time to leave, so I could get my stuff for tonight. But the man kept talking. "What type of equipment do you have? I have a Rook EMF Reader, which I've been pretty happy with, especially for the price. But, I've been eying an EDI meter, which I've heard great things about." "You know," I said, sliding off the bar stool. "I didn't realize the time. I have to, ah, go meet someone. But, maybe I'll see you later?" "Sure," he said, and smiled. It didn't quite seem to reach his eyes. His glasses glinted. I swallowed and did my best to smile back. Gia enthusiastically waved at me. "See you later, Riley. I'm working tonight, too." "Riley," the man mused, and I felt a chill rise up my spine. I didn't like it at all that he now knew my name. "That's a nice name. Nice to meet you. I'm Hal." "Nice to meet you, too," I lied. [continued] Riley Longhill is a fictional alter ego of Michele Pariza Wacek. The Adventures of Riley Longhill, Ghost Hunter, is a fiction account loosely based on real life ghost and haunted places. Yes, the Hotel Vendome in Prescott, Arizona is a real place and Abby and Noel are and do haunt the hotel to this day. Read Ep 1 here.
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I admit it, my last ghost hunting adventure at the Hassayampa Inn had … mixed results. On one hand, I saw my first ghost! Yay me! On the other hand … I wasn't sure I could actually, you know, post about it without getting in trouble. Well, never fear. Today was a brand new day. A brand new start to my ghost hunting adventure! And, what better place to get that fresh start but the Hotel Vendome in Prescott, Arizona. According to local legend, Abby and her husband moved to Prescott because Abby was sick with TB. While it appears they were living in the hotel, it's also a little unclear why that was. The most popular story claims they were the original owners of the hotel, which was built in 1917, but ended up losing it and the new owners kept them on as managers. However, according to folks who have actually researched old deeds, there's no proof they ever owned the hotel. Which, of course, doesn't mean they weren't the managers, just that they never owned it. Other stories said they were simply living there for free. I suppose they could have been paying guests as well. Regardless, they were living in the Hotel Vendome in 1921 on the day when Abby's husband went out for medicine for her, and never came back. Abby was so distraught, she locked herself in her room, refusing to eat until she perished. She also locked her cat Noble in the closet, and he died at about the same time. Now, both Abby and her cat haunt the hotel. "A ghost cat," I said to my dog Geist (Geist means “ghost” in German and is pronounced Guy-st). "What do you think about that?" Geist did not appear to like that idea at all. "I know you used to chase that feral cat in our neighborhood," I said. "But, maybe a ghost cat would be different." Geist picked up her alligator squeaky toy and gave it a few good hard squeaks. She shot me a meaningful look, the toy dangling out of her mouth. "Are you saying that's what you want to do to the cat?" Geist squeaked it one more time. "Well, unfortunately for you, the hotel doesn't allow dogs." Geist groaned and put her head down. "It's not my decision," I started to say when my phone rang. It was my sister, Katie. "How’s the zombie hunting?" she asked. "Hey kids, be careful with that saw." In the background I could hear the kids bickering. "It's my turn with the saw. No, you always get it! It's mine." "Zombies? What, you think I'm in a Walking Dead episode?" "Of course not. Silly. The Walking Dead isn't real," Katie said. "And you think zombie hunting is real?" "Well, you're doing it." "No. I'm not," I said. "I'm ghost hunting." "Oh yes, ghosts. Have you found any yet?" "I did. Faith." "Just one?" She sounded disappointed. "Just one? Most people never see a ghost. Ever. In their entire lives." "Yes, but most people aren't ghost hunters. I would think if a ghost hunter couldn't see ghosts that would be a bit of an issue." "Whatever," I said. "I'm getting ready for my next adventure. I’m going to look for Abby. In the Hotel Vendome." "What happened to Abby?" "Her husband went out for medicine or something and never came back, so she locked herself and her cat up in the room and starved to death." "I'm sensing a theme," Katie said. "Didn't your last ghost die because her husband went out for cigarettes and never returned?" "Do you think they stick around to haunt their husbands?" I asked. "Oooh, that's an idea. I'm going to tell Jack if he goes out for cigarettes one night and never returns, that's grounds for me to haunt him." 'Just as long as you don't kill him first." "There's that," Katie said. "Hey, kids, stop that. The cat doesn't want to play with the saw. I have to go." The Hotel Vendome would be my most famous haunted hotel yet. Although, that wasn't saying much as it was only my second. But, still. The Hotel Vendome had been featured in a bunch of specials and stories of documented hauntings. With any luck, I, too, would meet Abby. With even more luck, I'd get a really cool story out of it that I could share on my soon-to-be famous blog. Once I started it that was. I took a moment to imagine myself being interviewed on Ellen, or maybe even Oprah, and having them sitting there spellbound as I recounted how I made contact with Abby and her cat Noble … My phone rang. It was my best friend Coco. "Got that ghost hunting blog started yet?" she asked. "I bought the url," I said. "Only one?" "Well, a few," I admitted. "I'm not sure which one is best." I could practically hear her roll her eyes. "Have you done anything else?" "I'm working on the banner," I said, which was almost true. I had been thinking about how the banner should look, but I was still going back and forth on a color scheme. Could I use something like a navy or dark purple, or did I need to keep it black and white? Could I put a ghost in it or was that too cheesy? So many decisions. "Is that it?" "That's quite a lot," I said defensively. "What more should I be doing?" "Oh, I don't know. Call me old fashioned, but maybe you could, you know, write something." "You're the one who told me I couldn't write about the Hassayampa Inn and being in the broom closet," I said. "So, I'm heading over to the Hotel Vendome tonight." "Who is the ghost at the Hotel Vendome?" "Abby. And her cat Noble. She's famous." "Famous? Really. So what’s your plan? Are you going to hide in a broom closet again?" "No. I'm going to do this by the book," I said. "All on the up and up." "Well, that's a step in the right direction," Coco said. "Speaking of steps, what is the first step?" "Ah, head over there," I said. "What else would it be?" "Why are you asking me?" Coco asked. "I'm not the big ghost hunter here. Is that what a “real” ghost hunter would do first?" "I AM a real ghost hunter," I said indignity. "Oh right. I forgot. Must be because there's no blog to remind me." "I told you, I'm working on the banner," I said. "I can't launch a blog without a banner. What would youdo?" "Oh, I don't know," Coco said. "Maybe research? I mean, you said this is a famous site, so maybe doing (and posting) some more research before you actually show up would be good." That was actually a pretty good idea. Maybe I should do some research on Abby and Noble and the Hotel Vendome before actually doing the ghost investigation. Maybe that would provide some solid background that would make my blog even juicier. So, now there was only one problem: where to find all that great background. [continued] Riley Longhill is a fictional alter ego of Michele Pariza Wacek. The Adventures of Riley Longhill, Ghost Hunter, is a fictional story loosely based on real life ghost and haunted places. Yes, the Hotel Vendome in Prescott, Arizona is a real place and Abby and Nobel are real ghosts and do haunt the hotel to this day. Read Ep 1 here.
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Did I really just see an actual, genuine real ghost?! Did I just catch a glimpse of Faith, the resident real ghost of the Hassayampa Inn in Prescott, Arizona? With shaking hands, I pawed through my ghost-hunting kit to find my notes. Yes, there it was. Faith wore a pink a dress. Faith carried flowers. Oh my God. I just saw a real ghost. I had to get out of here. I shoved everything back into my ghost-hunting kit as fast as I could before tripping over the mop and falling in a heap outside of the broom closet. "What the …? Are you okay?" Oh God. Did Faith talk too? I let out a little scream before I realized it was the cute guy from downstairs. He was staring at me with something like horror on his face. "Did you see her?" I asked frantically. Now he looked confused and horrified. "See who? Did you just fall out of the broom closet?" "Never mind that. I'm talking about Faith." "Faith who?" "Faith, the ghost! The real ghost!" His eyes widened. "You saw Faith?" "Pink dress, flowers and everything. Did you see her?" He shook his head. "No, I just got here. I had a complaint about loud noises up here." "It must have been Faith." He looked skeptical. "I've never heard of Faith making noises before." "But it must have been her. I saw her walk past me in the hallway and disappear there." I pointed to room 426, the room Faith hung herself in. He looked even more skeptical. "Walk past you where? From the broom closet?" I waved my hands around. "That doesn't matter. What matters is I saw Faith. She walked by me." All around us I could see doors opening. People dressed in the nightgowns and oversized nightshirts peered out at me. Suddenly, I was conscious of myself—still splayed out on the floor covered in coffee stains and empty packages of Reeses Peanut Butter Cups. If that wasn't enough, the mop decided to choose that exact moment to tip over, whacking me on the head. The cute hotel employee jumped forward. "Oh my God, are you okay?" "I'm fine," I said, brushing off his attempts to help while awkwardly getting to my feet. I bent down to pick up the mop, but he beat me to it. "Don't worry about this. I can …" he paused as he peeked into the closet, seeing my coffee-soaked rag, empty bottle of iced salted caramel mocha coffee, and more empty Reeses Peanut Butter Cup packages. "I can take care of this. Although, I still don't understand why you were in the broom closet. Were you looking for something?" Oh crap. I was hoping he would have forgotten about the broom closet. "Uh … I was … Faith! I saw Faith." "We already established you saw Faith." "Who’s Faith?" An older woman wearing thick, white face cream asked. We both ignored her. "No," I said. "I mean. I saw Faith and she scared me so much I jumped into the broom closet." Now he really looked skeptical. "You jumped into the broom closet to escape from Faith?" "Who’s Faith?" The woman asked again louder. "Of course," I said. "I figured it was safe. No one had ever seen Faith in a broom closet before. At least, no one had ever talked about it." "And what about all the candy wrappers?" "Those were already in the closet." "And the coffee?" "That too." He stared meaningfully at the stain on my shirt. I found myself plucking it self-consciously. "Well," I said brightly. "If that's it, I better get going." "Of course," he said. "What room are you in? I'll walk you there." Room? Uh oh. "I … I can't possibly stay here," I said. "What if Faith comes back?" "I want to know who this Faith is," the older woman asked. "Faith is … pretty harmless," he said. "I think you'll be okay. But, what room are you in? I can check if there's been any sightings in that room." I was shaking my head. "No. Absolutely not. I have to go." I turned and started marching down the hall as the older woman came out of her room and stood in front of the employee. "I demand to know who this Faith person is and why she's wandering around the hotel." "Wait a minute," he called out. "Folks, it's okay, go back to bed. I have this under control," he said as more people came out of their rooms. "Really, folks it's fine," I heard him say as I ran down the stairs. I called my best friend Coco as soon as I was outside. "Coco! You'll never guess what happened." "Riley, do you have any idea what time it is?" "Nevermind that. You won't believe what just happened." "Were you in an accident? Are you okay? I told you this ghost hunting thing was a bad idea." "No, I saw my first ghost! A real ghost." "Wait, what? You saw a real ghost?" "Yes, Faith." "You saw Faith? How did that happen? I thought you were staying in your camper and not renting a room." I reached my car, quickly unlocked it, and jumped inside. The street was quiet. No sign of police or anyone following me. I was safe. "Well, I … ah … didn't technically rent a room." "What exactly does 'technically' mean?" Coco asked, sounding suspicious. "Well, it means … I was in a broom closet," I mumbled. "You what? You're mumbling. All I heard was something about a broom closet." "That's because that's where I was," I said, louder. "In a broom closet." Silence. "You mean to tell me," Coco said carefully, "that you spent part of the night in a hotel's broom closet? And you thought this was a good idea?" "This was your idea, you know," I said defensively. "My idea? I never told you to do anything so stupid." "You told me to go investigate. Spend the night. So I thought I'd camp out in the hallway and see if anything happened. And it did! I saw Faith." "Are you sure it was Faith and you just didn't fall asleep and dream her?" "No, because I had just finished talking to Craig." "Craig? I thought you two broke up." "We did. He called, oh never mind. We're getting off track here. The point is I spent the night and I saw Faith. Now I can write about her." "Did it occur to you that you probably could have called the marketing manager at the Hassayampa Inn and that person likely would have let you see the room? Without having to break the law?" "I wasn't breaking the law," I said indignantly, although it hadn't actually occurred to me to call the marketing manager. I was suddenly all too conscious of my sticky tee-shirt, and I began feeling rather foolish. "Did you pay for a room?" "Well, no. But I wasn't staying in a room. I was in a broom closet." "I'm pretty sure that's still considered trespassing." "But, I wasn't doing anything." Other than soaking up a rag. And leaving Reeses Peanut Butter Cup wrappers for that cute hotel employee to pick up. "Uh huh. So, when you write about this story in that ghost-hunting blog you haven't started yet, do you think maybe the Hassayampa Inn will put two and two together?" Uh. I hadn't thought about that. [continued] Riley Longhill is a fictional alter ego of Michele Pariza Wacek. The Adventures of Riley Longhill, Ghost Hunter, is a fictional account loosely based on real life ghost and haunted places. Yes, the Hassayamapa Inn in Prescott, Arizona is a real place and Faith is real and does haunt the hotel to this day. (And no, I didn't personally try spending the night in the hallway -- this is all a figment of the author's imagination.) Read Ep 1 here.
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My phone rang as I was sitting in the maid's closet at the Hassayampa Inn. I jumped, spilling my iced salted caramel mocha latte all over me. It was Craig, my on-again, off-again EX-boyfriend. I grabbed at the phone, spilling more coffee all over myself, trying to silence it before the entire hallway of guests came out of their rooms to see what the commotion was all about. "What do you want?" I hissed into phone, as I unsuccessfully tried to mop up the coffee. Napkins, I told myself. I definitely needed to add napkins to the ghost- hunting kit. Oh, but wait. I was in a broom closet, after all. Maybe I could find something. "That's hardly friendly," Craig said reproachfully. "I don't have to be friendly. We aren't dating anymore. Remember?" "Why are you whispering?" he asked. "What's going on? Are you with someone?" I managed to find an old rag that looked somewhat clean and used it to scrub at my clothes. "What part of ‘not dating’ did you not understand?" "So, you ARE with someone? We just broke up." God, I couldn't believe I was arguing about this in a broom closet. "Can we talk about this later? This isn't a good time." "I can't believe you started dating someone. Doesn't our relationship mean anything to you?" I squeezed my eyes shut and started counting to ten. "We're. Not. Dating. Anymore. There is no relationship. That means if I want to, I can date someone else." "Is this why you wanted to break up? Because you wanted to date other people?" "I didn't break up with you. You broke up with me." I sucked in my breath. "This is ridiculous. I'm not even with anyone right now, anyhow." "Then, why are you whispering?" He still sounded suspicious. "Because I'm in a broom closet." It sounded even worse out loud then it was in my head. "You're what? Did you say a broom closet?" I was starting to wish there was a hole in the broom closet I could crawl into. "Yes." He was silent for a moment, digesting the new info. "You're dating a married man, aren't you?" "What?" I couldn't even believe what I had just heard. "How did you get 'dating a married man' out of 'I'm in a broom closet?'" "Because his wife must have come home and now you're hiding." "Oh my God, Craig. I just told you I'm not seeing anyone." "Then what are you doing in a broom closet?" "I'm ghost hunting." "In a broom closet?" "Why not? What's wrong with a broom closet?" "Well, I don't know. Did the ghost die in there?" "The ghost is a she," I informed him, feeling like I really needed to get the conversation back under control. "Her name is Faith." "And did Faith die in a broom closet?" "Well, no," I admitted. "Not exactly. She hung herself in the honeymoon suite." "Has Faith been seen in the broom closet?" "Well, no," I said. "At least, not to my knowledge. But that doesn't mean she couldn't haunt here, from time to time." "But, if she died in the honeymoon suite, why aren't you investigating there?" "Because I'm trying to save money. At least until I get the blog going." "Let me get this straight," Craig said. "You want to become a ghost hunter. And you're going to monetize being a ghost hunter by writing about your adventures on a blog. Which means you need to investigate ghost sightings. And you're investigating by hiding in a broom closet even though the ghost has nothing to do with the closet." "It's not as bad as that sounds," I protested. God, this couldn't be that terrible of an idea, could it? "I'm in a broom closet next to the honeymoon suite." “'Next to?" "Well, near," I admitted. "But, you're still outside the suite." "Faith has been seen in the halls too," I said. "Riley. I …" "Look, I got to go," I said. "I don't want people to get suspicious." "No, we certainly wouldn't want that to happen," Craig said. "Ha, ha," I said sarcastically. "I'll call you later." "I'm not bailing you out if you get thrown in jail for this," he said. I hung up. Stupid Craig. Faith's ghost probably flitted by while I was on the phone with him and I missed it. All his fault. Not only that, but I think I stained my clothes. What the hell is wrong with Craig anyway? Calling in the middle of the night, making me dump coffee all over myself. We're not dating anymore. Why is that so tough for him to grasp? It was too dark in the broom closet to get a sense of the real damage, so I gently pushed open the door. Yes, there was definitely a pretty dark stain on my navy tee shirt. Maybe if I soaked it as soon as I got home … As I examined the damage, I realized I was smelling something that made no sense in my surroundings; was it fresh flowers? Why would I be smelling flowers in the middle of the night, in a hallway? Oh no. Was someone in the hallway? Was I about to be caught? I glanced up, only to see a wisp of pink catch my eye. Oh God, I really was about to be caught. How on earth was I supposed to explain hiding in the broom closet in the middle of the night? I tried to focus in on the pink. The pink was actually an old fashioned pink gown. There was a woman in the hallway. I held my breath, hoping she wouldn't notice me. That gown … was there some sort of party or reenactment going on? It seemed pretty hot outside to be wearing such a thing. And was the flower scent coming from her? She disappeared into a room, and I let the air out of my lungs with a “whoosh.” Thank God, she hadn't seen me. I leaned back, breathing deeply as I concentrated on slowing my heart rate and breathing down. First Craig, then the woman. I was a bit on edge. Maybe I needed a Reese Peanut Butter Cup. That would make me feel better. More than that, I deserved some chocolate after everything I had been through already. As I rummaged around my ghost-hunting kit looking for the package, my mind kept straying back to the woman. Why was there a woman wandering the halls in the middle of the night? What is with that dress, and why would she be carrying fresh flowers? Suddenly, I bolted upright. Did I actually see her walk into a room? Did she stand there, unlock the door, and open it? Or had she just simply … disappeared into it? Riley Longhill is a fictional alter ego of Michele Pariza Wacek. The Adventures of Riley Longhill, Ghost Hunter, is a fiction account loosely based on real life ghost and haunted places. Yes, the Hassayamapa Inn in Prescott, Arizona is a real place and Faith is real and does haunt the hotel to this day. (And no, I didn't personally try spending the night in the hallway -- this is all a figment of the author's imagination.) Read Ep 1 here.
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Time for one last check of my new-and-improved ghost hunting kit before heading out for a night of ghost hunting. In addition to the notebook and pen from before, I’ve added a flashlight, camera, tape recorder, bottled water, almonds, and a bag of M&Ms to my ghost hunting kit. I then shoved in three bottles of iced, salted-caramel mocha coffee. Actually, four bottles would make more sense; that should last me eight hours if I drank one every two hours. I stuck in one more. Wait, maybe some Reese's peanut butter cups, too. Peanut butter is good for you, right? It has protein. Plus, the sugar would help keep me awake. You know, with all that sugar, I probably would crave something salty. I had the almonds and salted mocha, but maybe a bag of sour cream and onion potato chips wouldn't be a bad idea, either. I took another look at all the food I was taking in my ghost hunting kit and had second thoughts. Did I really need all that junk food? I was trying to lose the 10 pounds I gained after Craig and I broke up. Maybe I should pack carrot sticks and celery in my ghost hunting kit. And some dill dip (I mean, if I’m eating carrots and celery, I deserve the dill dip). Plus, don’t you burn calories with every piece of celery you eat? Definitely need the dill dip. Sigh. It's still a lot of food. Although ... just because I brought it didn't mean I had to eat it. Wouldn't it be better to have it with me (in case of emergency, of course) rather than be hungry and grumpy? “Be prepared,” the Boy Scouts say. As a ghost hunter, I should always be prepared. And a ghost hunting kit is the perfect way for me to be prepared. Maybe I'll make that my motto too. I'll add it to my ghost hunting blog, once I get it up and running. I made a mental note. My plan was simple: I was going to sneak upstairs the Hassayampa Inn and find some corner near room 426, which is where Faith the ghost hung herself, and spend the night waiting to see what materialized (pun intended). What could be simpler? "You can hold down the fort," I told Geist, my dog (pronounced GUY-ist and means ghost in German). "It's just for one night." Geist sighed and put her head down. "Right. I'll be careful. I promise." I tugged my oversized tee shirt down. I was wearing what I hoped would be a nondescript outfit: a navy blue tee shirt and jean shorts. That should allow me to blend in, right? I took a final look around my camper (the first thing I purchased when I realized I was wasting my life in a job I hated and wanted to follow my dream of becoming a ghost hunter) before heading out. The Hassayampa Inn had been less than forthcoming when I had asked about Faith, their resident ghost. The woman at the front desk hadn't allowed me to go up to the fourth floor to investigate properly. And, if I was going to be a ghost hunter, and publish all of my ghostly encounters on my blog, then I needed to investigate. Hence my current plan to spend the night near the room Faith killed herself. I headed over to Hassayampa Inn, all the while telling myself that all I needed to do was simply act like I belonged. If I acted like I had a room there and had every right to be walking up the stairs at that hour, then I would have no problem. It's not like there's a guard standing by the door demanding to know who each person is. Right? The lobby was empty save for one employee sitting behind the desk. He looked up at me, and it was all I could do to not confess this whole crazy scheme to him. Instead, I steeled my shoulders, smiled pleasantly and headed for the stairs. I had just started to climb when he called out to me. "Ma'am?" I whirled around. Oh God, he knew. Somehow he knew. And who was he calling “Ma'am,” anyhow? He didn't look much older than me sitting there with his pressed shirt, short brown hair … sort of cute in a wholesome, clean-cut sort of way. He nodded to the side. "Would you like to use the elevator?" [caption id="attachment_458" align="alignleft" width="225"] Look how innocent of an elevator I am. Come on in. There's no ghosts here.[/caption] I turned to stare at it. It was one of those old-fashioned types, complete with levers and contraptions, and it looked complicated. And not very safe. For a moment, I remembered that old elevator in "The Shining," and thought maybe it would be a good idea to avoid elevators on general principle, especially if I was hunting for ghosts. Besides, I had a thing about elevators anyway, even if they didn't look like they were as old as the hotel itself. "No, I'm good," I said, and continued up the stairs, hoping I looked like I was simply a guest heading off to my paid for and totally legit room. Speaking of "The Shining," the hallway looked a little like it. All that gold and gilt and old-fashioned elegance. Crap. Why did that cute guy downstairs have to draw my attention to the elevator? Damn him. I quietly crept to room 426. It was off the main hallway and tucked in a corner of the hotel. I studied it for a moment waiting for … I'm not sure what. A cold spot? A flicker of light? So far, it looked like any other hotel in the middle of the night. Of course, I just got here. Maybe I better find a place to hang out for the night. I especially didn't want to be caught standing in the middle of the hallway if that cute guy decided to do a walk through. Yeah, that would be pretty embarrassing. [caption id="attachment_508" align="alignright" width="225"] No, this looks like nothing like "The Shining" ...[/caption] Instead I found an unlocked maid closet kitty corner to the room and tucked myself inside. I could barely fit with all the cleaning products (complete with mop and bucket), but I found I could adjust the mop to keep the door propped open a crack, allowing me to hide behind it. I unpacked my ghost hunting kit and arranged all of my ghost-hunting tools in front me. Camera. Tape recorder. Notebook. M & Ms. Maybe I should eat a couple. Just to keep me awake. Half the bag was gone and I was considering opening one of the iced salted mocha coffees when suddenly … [continued] Riley Longhill is a fictional alter ego of Michele Pariza Wacek. The Adventures of Riley Longhill, Ghost Hunter, is a fiction account loosely based on real life ghost and haunted places. Yes, the Hassayamapa Inn in Prescott, Arizona is a real place and Faith is an actual ghost who reportedly haunts the hotel to this day. (And no, I didn't personally try spending the night in the hallway—this is all a figment of the author's imagination.) Read Ep 1 here.
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Our first stop as ghost hunters was the Hassayampa Inn in Prescott, Arizona. According to local legend, in 1927, Faith was the much younger, new bride of an older gentleman, and they chose the Hassayampa Inn in Prescott, Arizona to honeymoon. Faith's husband went out to buy cigarettes and never returned. After a few days of wailing and teeth gnashing and hair pulling and garment rending and other acceptable forms of grieving for women back then, Faith lost faith, and hung herself in the honeymoon suite. Apparently, people have reported seeing her body from the street. Guests and staff have also claimed to have seen Faith’s ghost (crying at the end of the bed, dressed in a pink gown in the hallway, disappearing into rooms), along with other unexplained incidents (lights going on and off, and cold spots). You know, all the “normal” haunting-related things. [caption id="attachment_486" align="alignleft" width="225"] Think that's where Faith's body was seen from the street?[/caption] "They're even pet-friendly," I announced to Geist, my dog (pronounced GUY-st, meaning "ghost" in German). Geist looked mildly interested. But … I wasn’t staying at the Hassayampa Inn. Did I really want to walk in the lobby with a dog? Or would that be too much of a distraction? "What do you think?" I asked. "Do you want to come? Or is it just going to be weird?" Geist sighed loudly and put her head down. "Yeah, you're probably right. You should stay here and keep an eye on things," I said as I collected my ghost-hunting items (which consisted of a blank notebook and a pen — I hadn't quite gotten a handle on the whole ghost-hunting equipment thing yet) and prepared to head out of the second-hand camper I had bought just for ghost hunting. (My first purchase, when I become a famous ghost hunter, would definitely be a motor home. This camper was just way too small for Geist and me. Actually, maybe that purchase would come after hiring a professional driver. It took me half the day trying to back into this space in the RV park, until finally a nice, retired gentleman took pity on me and parked it for me. Embarrassing.) The Hassayampa Inn was an absolutely beautiful older building set in downtown Prescott, which is an old mining town nestled in the mountains of Arizona. There's a ton of history in this historic town, as well as ghosts, so I thought it would be the perfect place to begin my new career as a ghost hunter. They were definitely a little busy at the Hassyampa Inn. A number of people were checking in, examining maps and grabbing bellboys to help them drag in copious amounts of luggage. Was this the right time to be asking about Faith? Or would I be shooed away as a bother? As I hung back in the corner of the lobby, my phone rang. It was my sister Katie. I answered as I hurried outside, not wanting anyone to overhear. "How's the vampire hunting?" she asked. From the background I could hear kids arguing. "It's my turn with the hammer! You always get everything first!" "Hey," Katie said away from the phone. "You have to share or you're all going to your rooms. Sorry," she said. "Where were we? Oh, vampire hunting." "I keep telling you, I'm ghosthunting," I said, impatiently. "Oh, right. Well, you know, pregnancy brain," Katie said. "Savannah is eight." "Well, it takes awhile for pregnancy brain to go away," she said. "So, have you found any ghosts yet?" "I'm here at my first haunted hotel," I said. "The Hassayampa Inn in Prescott, Arizona. The ghost's name is Faith." "What happened to Faith?" "She hung herself after her husband left her. He went to buy cigarettes and never came back." "He probably didn't even smoke," Katie said. "That should have been her first clue." "Do you think he actually told her he was going to buy cigarettes, or do you think that got added in later?" I asked. "I mean, now it's like a cliché that a spouse goes to buy cigarettes and never returns, but does that ever actually happen?" "Well, there's probably a reason it's nowa cliché … because it did keep happening over and over," Katie said. "Hey, kids. Leave the cat's tail alone! I better go." I hung up and went back in the lobby. One person sat on the couch and two people were checking in. There was no line. This was my chance. I went up to counter. An older woman with tight, curly red hair and red glasses smiled at me. "Can I help you?" I took a deep breath. "I'm here to talk about Faith," I said. Her smile slipped a bit and she thrust a photocopied half piece of paper at me. [caption id="attachment_485" align="alignright" width="225"] My first encounter with Faith.[/caption] I took it. "Can I ask you some questions?" "We're pretty busy," she said, not meeting my eyes. This didn't seem to be going well. "Have you seen Faith?" I asked. "I haven't," she said. "Are you checking in or not?" "Can I see the floor where she hung herself?" I persisted. The people next to me gave me a sideways glance. I wondered if they had any idea they were staying at a haunted hotel. She frowned, shaking her head. "If you're not checking in, I have to ask you to step aside and let us help paying guests." Well. That didn't go very well. Dejected, I took my photocopied piece of paper and left the hotel. My phone rang again when I stepped outside. It was Coco, my best friend. "How's the ghost hunting?" she asked. "Great," I said. Coco already thought I had lost my mind, quitting my job and embarking on my career as a ghost hunter. "I just met my first ghost. Faith." "You met her?" "Well," my voice faltered as I stared at my little photocopied piece of paper. "I'm at the Hassayampa Inn in Prescott, Arizona, which is where she hangs out and … haunts." "So, what? Are you staying there tonight?" "I … well, I hadn't planned on it," I said. "I have the camper, you know. And Geist." "Oh, yes. Geist. Can't forget her. But, if you aren't going to stay there, how are you actually going to, you know, investigate?" "Um." Oh boy. Coco brought up a good point. Maybe I hadn't thought this through as well as I should have. [continued ….] Riley Longhill is a fictional alter ego of Michele Pariza Wacek. The Adventures of Riley Longhill, Ghost Hunter, is a fiction account loosely based on real life ghost and haunted places. Yes, the Hassayamapa Inn in Prescott, Arizona is a real place, Faith is an actual ghost who reportedly haunts the hotel to this day. Read Ep 1 here.
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I'm Riley Longhill, and my dog Geist and I are ghost hunters. Okay, okay, I confess. I'm new to this ghost-hunting business. You see, my mother died last year, and her death really brought home how truly short life is. A few months after her death, I took a good, hard look at my life, and was appalled at what I saw. A job I hated. An on-again, off-again relationship (currently OFF and staying that way). A tiny apartment. And a black-and-white mutt of a dog I named Geist, which means “ghost” in German (it's pronounced GUYst). Why did I name my dog Geist? Because I always had a secret passion for ghost hunting … traveling the country and visiting haunted places to investigate whether they truly ARE haunted. But, I always told myself how silly that was. You can't make any money being a ghost hunter, right? I needed to go do something practical, like work in an advertising agency. So that’s precisely what I did. It paid the bills. (Sort of. If you didn't count the growing balance on my credit cards.) And … I hated it. But, after my mother died, I realized I could no longer lie to myself. For years, I had told myself that what I was doing was was precisely what you’re supposed to do when you're in your twenties and thirties. You get a job. You work. HARD. It doesn't matter if you like it or not (in fact, you probably WON'T like it because it's called “WORK” for a reason). Besides, I had been brought up to value hard work. Want to be successful? Work hard. If you do, eventually, you'll be "rewarded," and you can finally do what you always wanted to do. But, what if you never get there? That was the question that haunted me as I watched my all-too-young mother take her final breaths. Did I really want to risk spending my life working so hard, only to never actually enjoy the fruits of my labor? And, more importantly, did I really want to waste all those years working and not enjoying my life? The next thing I knew, I was turning in my notice, packing up my belongings (putting most of them in storage), sub-letting my apartment, buying a secondhand camper, and hitting the road with Geist to become the next great ghost hunters! I was ready. In fact, I had already begun fantasizing about what life would be like once Geist and I were famous ghost hunters. I imagined showing up at haunted hotels, only to have the receptionist start jumping up and down, yelling "Riley! Oh my God, I can't believe you're here! I love your stuff! Can we get a selfie? Geist, too. Look everyone! The ghost hunters are here!" [caption id="attachment_460" align="alignleft" width="225"] See how excited Geist is to hunt some ghosts?[/caption] And, of course, I would graciously accept, kneeling down to make sure Geist was in the shot … My phone rang. "Riley, where in God's name are you?" It was my best friend Coco. We had gone to high school together, been roommates in college, and were still friends to this day. She was also convinced I had lost my mind. "On the interstate," I said, carefully navigating. I hadn't quite gotten the hang of driving with a camper and it had been slow going so far. “Definitely getting a driver once Geist and I are famous ghost hunters,” I thought to myself. "Aren't you supposed to be focused on driving?" "I am. My cell is hands free." Coco sighed. "Riley, it's not too late to change your mind." "Why would I want to do that?" "Oh, only because of 2,000 reasons I can think of off the top of my head. But, probably most importantly, how are you going to pay for any of this?" "I told you. My blog." "Oh, of course. How could I forget? The blog." I ignored the sarcasm dripping from her words as I gently pressed on the brakes. I didn't want to get too close to the cars in front of me (never mind they were about a half mile ahead). "Why not a blog? Everyone loves a good blog. Especially a blog with a dog in it. Not to mention a blog about ghost hunters." "Uh huh. Can you even make money with a blog?" "Lots of people make money with blogs," I said defensively. I was pretty sure about it, even though I didn't personally know anyone making money off a blog. "Huffington Post …" "That's a news organization. Plus they have like a gazillion writers." "Okay, so what about that one cooking blog, the pioneer woman …" "She has a cooking show on The Food Network." "Perez Hilton," I said triumphantly. "He has one of the most famous blogs in the world and he's not on TV." That wasn't entirely true, as he was recently on Worst Cooks of America (yet another cooking show), but hopefully Coco wouldn't remember that. "He's famous already! And he's blogging about celebrities. Are yougoing to be blogging about celebrity ghosts?" "Some ghosts are quite famous." "Uh huh." Needless to say, Coco didn't think too much of the blog idea. "I hope there's a financial Plan B," she continued. "Well, of course there is," I said. "I'm not a complete idiot." "Says the woman who quit her job to start a famous blog, despite not knowing anything about blogs, about being a ghost hunter, which you also know nothing about." "Ha ha," I said sourly. "You know that Mom left me some money. And I've already picked up a few freelance writing assignments to tide me over until the blog starts making money. See? I've got a plan." Coco grumbled something that I couldn't hear because my phone beeped just then. (Probably for the best … I was sure I wouldn’t want to hear what she said.) "Coco, I got another call coming in. I'll call you later." "Call me tonight. After you stop for the day. Someone has to make sure you don't end up dead on the side of the road." "I promise," I said, although I wasn't entirely sure how calling Coco every night would protect me from certain death, but I was afraid that comment would lead us down another rabbit hole. I clicked over. "Riley? What's this I heard about you leaving town?" I bit the side of my cheek. Hard. It was Craig, my EX-boyfriend. Emphasis on the EX. "Not your concern anymore, Craig," I said. "Wait. So this is REAL? You're not here? Where are you?" "None of your business. We're not dating, anymore. Remember? You wanted to take a break?" "Don't blame this all on me," he argued. "You did too." He was right. I was stuck in the middle of an existential crisis, along with mourning my mother, and when I tried to talk to him about it, he just wanted to "solve" it all for me. Hell would freeze over before I would admit that, though. "It doesn't matter," I said. "It's better for both of us. Fresh start and all." "But, what are you doing? Where are you going?" "I'm starting my new life," I said proudly. (That actually sounded really good. Maybe that would be the first sentence of my new blog.) "Oh God," he groaned. "You're not doing that ghost hunter thing." "What do you mean, ghost hunter thing?" I asked indignantly. "It's a real thing." "Uh huh," he said, sounding exactly like Coco. "You didn't quit your job over this, did you?" "I can't hear you," I shouted. "I think I'm losing reception." "Riley …" "I'll talk to you later," I yelled and disconnected. When Geist and I are famous ghost hunters, I was definitely going to enjoy watching them both eat their words. [to be continued ….] Riley Longhill is a fictional alter ego of Michele Pariza Wacek. The Adventures of Riley Longhill, Ghost Hunter, is a fiction account loosely based on real life ghosts and haunted places.
