When Travis pulled up to the curb in front of the Leon's' house, he could see Valeria sitting on a nearby bench writing in a small notebook. She then sprightly ran over to meet him, climbing up into the cab of his truck with a look of urgency.
"Hey Miss Research, I guess you got a break in the case this morning. So how did it go?"
"Travis, I really need a great favor."
"Sure."
"Look . . . it's only a little after ten o'clock. Can you drop me back off at my hotel for an hour or so . . . before that amazing lunch you promised?"
He looked over at her and could see she was seriously pressured to take care of something.
"Sure Valeria. Everything OK?"
"Yes. It's just that . . . well I have to check out some details about the La Playa Hotel and the Ghirardelli chocolate girl."
"What? You mean the ghost story I told you about?"
"Not necessarily that. Just some background info on the woman's death."
Travis had already commandeered his truck away from the curb and was heading back toward Lover's Point.
"Yeah, but what's that got to do with Natalia?"
"I honestly don't know yet. Maybe nothing. Maybe a lot. It's all so . . . amazing! What I just heard on that recording this morning."
"OK, but . . . you mean where we were yesterday?"
"Exactly, Travis. I'll explain everything when you pick me up in a bit. I've got a few websites and searches to hit. It shouldn't take long."
"Well, now you've got me intrigued," he said.
"You should be. This could be a pretty significant development in this case."
"OK, then. But haven't seen you this animated since . . . our hug last night?"
Normally a line like that would have brought a positive or negative response from Valeria, as she was somewhat versed in the game of flirtation. But now, nothing registered. It was all eclipsed by finding out how much of Natalie's narrative was accurate and truly linked to the Ghirardelli death—an event more than a hundred years ago. And if it was, why that story? And how did her own involvement with her play into it?
Travis looked over at her as he was parking the truck in front of The Seven Gables inn. He could tell by her unresponsiveness to his searching comment about the hug that she was truly and intensely preoccupied by the mission she was on. Valeria prepared to get out of the truck when she turned to him.
"Travis, can you give me about two hours? Say . . . back here at twelve-thirty? That's all I'll need, I promise. To make a transcription of the recording and do some direct fact checking."
"Absolutely. You've got it."
With that, she took her handbag with the digital recorder and small notebook and practically ran from the truck the hotel gate.
* * *
At twelve thirty-five, just as the fog had cleared for the day and the sunlight sparkled off the sea across from the hotel, Travis had come back to the inn, parking his truck out front. Valeria could see him from her window and began closing the sites on her computer which she had used as resources. She also managed to take copious notes in a Word document, as a verbatim transcription of Natalia's recorded dream.
She closed the laptop, put it in her shoulder bag, and ran into the bathroom to freshen up. There was much to tell Travis.
When she reached the truck, she saw that he was on his cell phone. As she climbed in, he was just wrapping up a conversation which seemed rather formal.
"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."
"Ouch."
"It was never known for certain if Alida had drowned by a terrible accident, swimming off the beach in front of their home . . . or it was a suicide over her dashed marriage plans."
"Well, I knew there was some mystery about the death."
But you see, Travis, Natty's dream was quite clear. That she had killed herself in the sea after an earlier failed attempt. And this was confirmed on several sites I found which had based the information on primary sources, alive at the time."
"Wow. Nice detective work!"
"During that first attempt, she was apparently rescued by a man on horseback who saw her from the beach. She struggled with him but was brought to shore, nearly dead. It's reported she recovered. But then, days later on a particularly foggy morning, she went to the sea again, not to return. It's exactly the way Natalia told it on the recording, Travis. During her sleep talking!."
"My God! . . . Was that really the topic of her dream?"
"Yes! In her own way she captured the story. As if she had witnessed elements of it."
"That's extraordinary . . . Natalia in her sleep is connecting to what little I had told you. Just yesterday, while we were at the La Playa."
"Yes. And it gets stranger. Even more remarkable. Listen to the transcription of her dream from the recording about that first suicide attempt:"
" . . . a pretty woman . . . she's dressed in chocolate clothes . . . walking in the sunlight toward the sea . . . she swims out to the waves . . . and starts to drown . . . It's the first time for her to drown."
" A man pulls her out. Out of the big waves. He saw her while riding a horse on the beach . . . and he swims out to save her. . .. But she fights him . . . because she wanted to die. . .
"Wow, Yeah. A pretty close match."
"You see, Travis, Alida was recuperating from the 'first drowning' in the Carmel house she lived in. It was obviously full of Jorgensen's paintings. And I found out Alida's own celebrated work in oils was on the theme of mothers and children. Listen to this transcription:"
"They took her into a room . . . in the big stone house. It has a tower and many paintings . . . Her chocolate clothing melted away from their tears . . . and the children in the paintings hugged their mothers . . . But she lived."
"My God!" Travis said. "Chocolate clothing . . . That's uncanny. It's actually quite creepy!"
"My feelings exactly. So, then I found out a few days after she was rescued, Alida goes back out into the sea . . . and this time disappears. Her body is discovered a month later, causing Jorgensen and his wife to abandon the house and live in Pebble Beach."
"Wow. So she really did commit suicide."
"According to our Natalia, yes. Listen to the verbatim transcription:
". . . I see her walk again to the sea . . . this time she is naked, and the fog is very thick. It makes her invisible while she swims out to the waves . . .No one sees her this time . . . No one saves her this time . . . from sinking down into the dark water. Now she lives in the sea . . ."
"I can't believe this, Valeria."
"And so phenomenally accurate. Listen how she dreamed it:"
" . . .they find her a month later. . . on the white sandy beach. I see her body. She is half eaten by the fish and covered with black flies . . .
"Jesus! Practically an eye-witness account.
"Exactly!"
"So what do you make of this girl's connection to your interest in the hotel . . . the young woman who died . . . our discussion yesterday?"
"I have no theories. It's just . . . there. On the recording. And now here in my transcription of it."
"My God! There's something beyond coincidence there."
"Travis, that's obviously the beautiful sandy beach you showed me. And on it the horrific details. How a body's remains would look after a month in the ocean. I ask you . . . could a little girl even make that up?"
"Only if she was looking at it."
"Yes. In some paranormal way . . . able to see it."
"Does the tape conclude there?"
"No. It brings us back to the hotel ghost you described. Check this out:"
". . . the lady is now a sad angel . . . looking for someone in the big stone house . . . until she finds him . . . she will never leave."
"Travis, she's obviously referring to Jorgensen's stone house becoming the hotel, years later. And . . . the sightings of a woman's apparition in the hotel's rooms over the years."
"Exactly."
Travis just looked across the table at Valeria, silently.
"You really feel like eating anything," he finally asked.
"No. But I would like at least a full tray of those shots."
"Good call."
It was all the two of them could do but reflect a perplexed smile upon their faces, each to the other.
* * *