House of Whispers (Ellie Jordan, Ghost Trapper Book 5) by JL Bryan

Author:JL Bryan
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: urban fantasy, mystery, occult, paranormal, savannah, detective, ghost, haunted house, haunted, ghostbuster
Publisher: JL Bryan

Chapter Eleven

Gary Schultz lived in The Landings, a gated community on Skidaway Island, in a two-story cubic house with steeply slanted roofs that screamed 1970's. A red Chevrolet convertible sat in the driveway. It looked as though the Lathrop Grand had paid him well, though not extravagantly, during his tenure as general manager.

I approached his front door alone, dressed in my stupid black pantsuit, glasses on, hefty briefcase in one hand. He came a minute or so after I rang the bell, a balding, frowning man in his fifties, unshaven in recent days, his outfit a hodgepodge of crumpled dress-suit pants and a shirt depicting Big Al, the elephant mascot of the University of Alabama.

He was very guarded as he opened the door, giving me a quick look-over and a gruff “Hello?”

“Mr. Gary Schultz?” I asked.

He nodded, glancing at my briefcase. “Who are you?”

“My name is Ellie Jordan. I'm a private investigator looking into Black Diamond Properties, the new owners of the Lathrop Grand, in preparation for a legal action.”

“Are you working for Black Diamond or against them?” he asked, narrowing his eyes.

“Against them.”

“Those pig-kissers that fired me? Someone's suing them?” He stepped aside, smiling now, and gestured into his bright, square-shaped foyer. “Best news I've heard all month. Come right in, and don't spare any gory details. Who's after them?”

“I'm bound by a nondisclosure agreement, so I can only say it's a wrongful death lawsuit by a contract employee. Well, his family.”

“Get you a beer?”

“No, thank you.” I followed him to a boxy living room with a pair of skylights in the ceiling. He paused an old James Bond movie on the big flatscreen that dominated one wall, then picked up a bottle of Heineken. Several empty bottles were scattered on the coffee table, as if he didn't know what to do with himself besides drink and watch television. I wondered if it was a coincidence that the two longest-term employees of the hotel I'd met, Earl and now Gary, both seemed to have drinking problems.

A framed, autographed picture of legendary Alabama coach Bear Bryant hung on one wall, surrounded by commemorative posters of the stadium in Tuscaloosa and team pictures from various championship seasons.

“I'm guessing you went to Alabama?” I said, thinking that maybe I should have let Alabama native Stacey do the interrogation while I sat out in the van as backup.

“Florida State, actually, but I've always been an Alabama man. I grew up in Philadelphia, you see.” He dropped onto his couch and motioned toward a recliner. I dusted what looked like Funyuns crumbs off the cushion and sat down to face him.

“Philadelphia?” I asked, unable to summon the connection I was obviously supposed to make.

“The one in Mississippi. Just over the fence from Tuscaloosa. So what can I do to help you with those piles of trash bags full of horse manure that call themselves Black Diamond Properties?” he asked. “Are you gonna bleed them dry?”

“If possible. They do have deep pockets.”

“Good.”

“I'd like to start

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