Act V (36 page)

Not sleeping is fine when you’re
seventeen, but it’s not so good when you’re holding down a job, so
for my own sanity and financial stability, I gave up the scary
stuff. Sometimes I still miss it but real life can be scary
enough.

“
Oh Gayla…come back to us,”
Lyssette’s voice sang out. “Where’d you go to?” She didn’t wait for
an answer. “This is supposed to be one of the best tours in
Savannah. It was started up a couple of years ago by a member of
the Savannah Storytellers’ Guild and it’s been getting good
reviews. You’ll end up walking about two miles altogether and
they’ll take us through one of the graveyards and to several of the
old homes. It’ll be fun.”

In my experience, anytime
somebody used the words,
it’ll be
fun,
it almost always wasn’t and it usually
got me into some kind of trouble. This, of course, would be no
exception, at least when it came to the trouble thing.

Chapter 3:
Gayla

We downed a burger on the
way, traveled through backed up SUVs and minivans around the
Savannah downtown squares and finally pulled into one of the
parallel spaces. By then we didn’t have to feed the meter because
it was after 6p.m.. We walked to where a small crowd was gathering
in front of an old home bearing a sign over the front door that
read,
Savannah Smiles City
Tours
. It was written in a really cool,
ghostly font surrounded by illustrations of spirits, pirates,
witches and so on. I couldn’t help but smile because it was so
hokey. Of course they offered historical tours as well as ghost
tours but people seemed to flock to the scary ones.

I looked around and counted more than a
dozen participants, most carrying cameras and wearing touristy
looking shorts and t-shirts. There was a family of five, Mama,
Daddy, two boys around the ages of ten and twelve and a much
younger little girl who I figured to be about six or seven. It
occurred to me that she might not like this any more than I did. I
wondered if she’d have trouble sleeping tonight. An older couple
sat on the porch of the house and I could tell from their accents
they weren’t from around here, mid-western maybe. A middle-aged
couple with a teenaged son and daughter stood by the front door.
The son, the younger of the two, was using a sticker from a nearby
bush to pick at the daughter who looked bored and irritated at
having to spend “quality time” with her family. Some things never
change.

The front door opened and two figures
walked out. The first was a nice-looking young woman, much shorter
than me but taller than Lyssette, with long, straight,
black-as-night hair. In a way, she reminded me of a young, Angelica
Huston but with softer features. She wore khaki pants, a midnight
blue golf shirt with a Savannah Smiles logo stitched into the
front, left pocket and black Nikes. She carried a clip board, a pen
and a flashlight. Behind her was a very tall, muscular man, with
rich, wavy, chestnut brown hair wearing the same uniform. He
carried a cash box and a flashlight and watched the black-haired
woman intently. I watched him just as intently.

“
Welcome ladies and
gentlemen,” she announced. She spoke with a refined, practiced
voice, as if she was from somewhere like Delaware, but had spent
enough time here to pick up a little of the accent.
Faker!
She was probably
raised five miles from here in one of those old houses in the
residential section that I couldn’t afford if I ate mayonnaise
sandwiches and took only cold showers for the rest of my
life.
“I’m your tour director, Cordelia
Rozelle and this is my coworker, Aaron Shultz. He’ll be assisting
tonight and making sure that nobody gets left behind for the
ghosts.” A brief chuckle went up from the crowd except for the
little girl who cowered and huddled in closer to her mother. I had
to give her credit, Cordelia didn’t miss a thing. She checked the
clipboard in her hand, approached the little girl and said, “I’ll
bet your name is Bethany.”

The child’s eyes expanded
until they looked like
Little Orphan
Annie
eyes. “How did you know
that?”

“
It’s my job to know the
people on my tour.” She said in with a mystical air and then
grinned. “That and it’s listed on the sign in sheet.” More chuckles
from the audience. “You know, Bethany, there’s absolutely nothing
on this tour that can hurt you, but I’ll tell you what.” The little
girl eyed her with timid curiosity. “It just so happens that I need
a second assistant tonight to hold this extra flashlight. Could you
do that for me?” She produced a penlight from her pocket and handed
it to Bethany with a flourish.

Bethany took the flashlight and rose to
the occasion of her new responsibilities. Her shoulders
straightened and she looked like a girl with a mission. I wondered
what this quick-on-the-draw tour director would be able to come up
with to soothe the over-the-edge adults in her group like yours
truly. “Now,” Cordelia embraced us all with her expressive eyes,
“If you haven’t had a chance to sign in yet, you can sign this
sheet and Aaron will be happy to take your money.”

“
I’ve got this, it’s my
treat,” Lyssette said as she trotted off to pay the very
good-looking Aaron.

“
Figures,” I grunted.
Lyssette had never been one to sit idly by when there was a
handsome man to be had. I watched my best friend trot up and start
a conversation. It was so easy for Lyssette. She’d been the social
butterfly for as long as I could remember and could make cardboard
sound like a fascinating topic. It didn’t hurt that Lyssette had
gobs of thick, blonde hair and classic, long, dark lashes that set
her blue eyes off perfectly.

I, on the other hand, had carrot-red
curls that I wasn’t sure even my mother could love and freckles to
go with them. I never tanned, I spotted like a Doctor Seuss
character.. I had a shy streak too. I liked my job as a private
investigator partly because it allowed me to work alone and when I
did find myself in large groups, it was often in some guise to
allow me to blend in and get the job done. I couldn’t make small
talk in my own right if my life depended on it, but I was quick on
my feet and was good at pretending to be someone else when the job
called for it. Sometimes that vivid imagination came in handy.
Maybe I should have been an actor. Don’t get me wrong, I know how
to relate to people on a one-to-one basis, but I just always feel
lost at parties, tagging along behind Lyssette or some other friend
like I was tethered.

“
Alright! I think we’re
ready to get started,” Cordelia was saying as Lyssette made her way
back to me looking like she’d just scored the winning goal. I’d
hear about the gorgeous Aaron later until my ears melted off. “If
you’ll just follow me, we’ll make our way to the Owens-Thomas
House.” The family of five and the one with the teenagers took the
lead followed by Lyssette and me along with the elderly couple.
Aaron of the well-built torso took up the rear. “As you may know,”
Cordelia told us as she walked, “Savannah began as a settlement in
the early seventeen-hundreds. Of course, any settlement had to have
cemeteries and as the colony grew, the town ran out of space. So
what did they do about it? They built on top of their own dead.
Naturally that leads to all kinds of interesting ghost stories. Our
first one takes place right here at the Owens-Thomas House.” They
stood in front of a two-story brownish home with four columns on
the massive front porch. “Construction on this home was completed
in 1819 and it has been owned by several people including
Congressman George Owens. Now the good congressman’s granddaughter,
Margaret Thomas, loved to work in the garden and was very proud of
the home. She eventually donated it to the Telfair Museum of Art in
1951. If you talk to the folks who live nearby, they’ll tell you
that Margaret is still wandering through those lovely gardens at
night. I guess she just couldn’t leave her favorite place behind
when she died. If you look closely,” she lifted her eyebrows, swept
her gaze through the crowd, “you might see her.”

Despite her put-on accent, I thought
Cordelia was an amazingly talented storyteller. As we walked
through the city, she told stories of loves lost, voodoo magic,
pirate ghosts and so much more. We even went inside a house with
voodoo drawings on the floor. That one gave me a chilling sense of
otherworldliness that made the hair on the back of my neck stand at
attention. I was careful not to touch anything with my bare hands.
I’m no germaphobe, but touching things doesn’t always work out well
for me. As a matter of fact, I tend to get a few scary surprises
out of it when I’m not careful. I couldn’t do anything about my
shoes on the ground, but that wasn’t as much of a risk.

Despite that frightening little thrill,
I was beginning to think this tour was a good idea after all. I’d
enjoyed the entertainment and had learned so much about Savannah
that I didn’t already know. It’s hard to believe that you can live
somewhere your whole life and not know everything about the place,
but I suppose you can. We had gathered in front of a charismatic
old hotel that had a walkway covered with an awning, when Cordelia
began to tell us all about Anna Powers. “There are so many versions
of this story but I’ll tell you my favorite. Anna was a young,
Irish immigrant determined to make her way in her new land. She
fell in love with a handsome sailor and things naturally progressed
the way they tend to do.” Cordelia lifted both eyebrows
suggestively. “Anna soon found out she was to have the sailor’s
child. When she told him, he informed her that he was not
interested in having a family. Anna was heartbroken, but she didn’t
give up easily. She went to a Voodoo witch woman who gave her a
charm made from the sailor’s hair. It was supposed to bring the
sailor back to Anna. Sadly, the charm didn’t work. He left her to
go back to sea. Anna was on the balcony of room 204 when she saw
his ship sailing out and she knew she’d lost him. She must have
decided that she couldn’t handle life without her seafarer because
she threw herself to the stones below. People who stay in the hotel
often see Anna wandering the halls crying, but especially in that
room out on the balcony, watching the sea.” Cordelia looked around
at the people with digital cameras. “If you get anything
interesting in your pictures. Be sure to share with the rest of us.
By the way, I think the place is open for reservations if you need
a new hotel.”

Lyssette, standing behind me, giggled
nervously. It must have been nerves because I couldn’t imagine what
was so funny. The whole story made me feel tremendously sad for the
young girl who had committed suicide over a man who obviously
didn’t love her. I looked to one of the balconies overhead
illuminated in the moonlight and tried to imagine what the girl had
been feeling. What would it be like to watch a ship sail away
carrying your baby’s father and to know you’d probably not see him
again. And what about the Voodoo? Had she really expected it to
work? I could almost feel the girl’s anxiety over a child that she
would bear alone. I could almost see her standing there longing for
the ship to turn around and feeling the last drop of hope fade away
when it just kept going out to sea.

“
Aren’t you coming?” A
strong, male voice echoed behind me and I made a high, squeaking
noise that sounded embarrassingly like a sick Chihuahua.

“
What?” My heart was
pounding from the surprise and I had to make an effort to sound
normal again. I looked around and saw that the tour, Lyssette
included, was already half a block ahead of me. “Oh no!” I groaned,
looking to the sky for help and when none magically appeared, I
twisted myself around to the voice that as it turned out belonged
to Aaron, the handsome tour assistant.

“
Sorry, didn’t mean to scare
you.” His eyes twinkled with delight as he swallowed most of a
grin. He might not have
meant
to scare me but he was surely enjoying the fact
that I had almost climbed up the trellis.

I wasn’t about to give him the
satisfaction. “You didn’t scare me. I was just thinking about the
story.”

“
Oh good,” his smile widened
to show straight, white teeth, “I was afraid I’d put you off of
ghost tours for good. I wouldn’t want to upset a customer, ma’am.
I’m only just now training for the job and I don’t want you having
a coronary on my watch. It might not look good on my
resume.”

This last part was spoken with all the
Southern charm of a Civil War Colonel and I had to laugh. “Don’t
worry, I think I’ll live.” He led the way and we began walking fast
to catch up with the tour group. I’m not good at initiating
conversation, but I was curious and intrigued by this man and
besides, he was drool-in-your-soup gorgeous, so I opened my mouth
and let my words have their way. “You’ve been awfully quiet this
whole tour. Don’t you get to say anything?”

He chuckled, a low sound, deep in his
throat, a sound that made my insides go wobbly…in a good way. “I’ll
be leading this tour next week. Right now I’m just learning the
history. You wouldn’t believe the books they gave me to
study.”

“
Oh, you were serious about
being in training.” I almost said something stupid like I’d have to
come back when he was leading a tour but decided that would be way
too flirty. “We’ll good luck with it,” I managed to eek out as we
reached the rest of the group. I was pretty sure I sounded like a
fourteen-year-old crushing on a rock star, but I couldn’t do a
thing about it.