Paranormal Case 9

Chapter Eight

"Alright then. Anything that comes up, I'll give you a call, Captain. Yeah, she's contacted the family and interviewed the girl . . .Well, we might know a bit more about it soon. After today. No, that's still unclear."

He looked over at Valeria and rolled his eyes while still on the line. He seemed perturbed with the detective's questions.

"Yes, I know. And maybe we'll never understand that, Captain Richards. OK then, good day".

Travis shut off his cell phone.

"Damn, these police. They're so . . . impatient!"

"So that was . . ."

"Yeah. The homicide chief detective. The one who brought me . . . and you . . . into this case. He just wants to know what we've found out so far. About the Monterey serial murders. They still don't have a suspect. Bodies now, yes. Thanks to Natalia . . . but no suspects. He was hoping she might have revealed something more to her family or to us about the case which might be, you know, crucial to a lead."

"No guarantees there. But it's possible . . . And now I think, highly possible."

"Excellent. You'll have to enlighten me about that recording. But today, over some traditional Tex-Mex."

"Just lead the way. I do have some interesting things to share. But make sure this place has tequila. After what I learned, Travis, I could use a few shots."

"Well, Tequila they'll have."

Following several minutes, Travis was back on the freeway traveling through the pine forest to the largest city in the area, Monterey--just north of the Carmel village. He drove down near the sea's edge into the old town district. It was where the original nineteenth century buildings met with the renovated warehouses of Cannery Row--that literary district of John Steinbeck fame.

Soon Travis had parked the truck near the Monterey Bay Aquarium, and the two walked to a Mexican restaurant called Don Carlos. Entering from the street, they went up a flight of stairs to where a view from the dining area provided a panorama of the coastline north and south.

Seated at a table, Valeria took out her laptop and opened it.

"Travis, last night Natalia spoke of a young woman whom she recited had drowned twice! The first time being saved, the second time, perishing below the waves. Her body was not found until a month later, partially decomposed."

"Um. . . Alright."

"You had told me just a day earlier about the Ghirardelli heir's niece, who is thought to be the ghost, haunting the La Playa Hotel in Carmel."

"Yes. That's right."

"So . . . I found the young woman was named Alida Ghirardelli. She was a painter of some renown who came to live with her aunt and uncle in Carmel from Paris. She stayed with them in their new stone mansion with a stone tower. Carmel appealed to her, as it did many artists after the San Francisco earthquake and fire of 1906."

"Yeah. That all sounds correct."

A young waitress came over, smiled, and gave them menus. Rushing through an order, Valeria was less concerned with her choices of lunch than filling Travis in on the more intense details of what she had learned that morning.

"So Travis . . . this Ali Ghirardelli, I discovered, had some previous marriage plans with an American artist whom she met while studying in Paris. It was 1909 when she moved in with Angela Ghirardelli and her famed husband, the painter Christian Jorgensen . They were all living comfortably in the large stone house which the painter had designed and built, right there on Carmel Beach. Apparently, this fiancé of Ali's, who had come back from Paris with her, stood her up, and announced he was having an affair with another woman."