When a young couple meets in a ghost hunting club, they decide to take their relationship to the next level by going to Denver CO for a weekend of romance and ghost hunting. What they don't expect is connection they shared with an old hotel and a murder that took place over a hundred years before...
Kate didn’t know if she’d rather slap it off his face or kiss it away, but her hunger made her imagine the first option.
“Just what exactly do you mean by that?” Kate asked, glaring at him as she sipped her margarita. She was soon discovering the locals enjoyed drinking their lunch and how a good stiff margarita could go a long way in high altitude to stave off hunger pangs.
“Women,” Brett said again, not smart enough to drop a sore subject, “They hold grudges against men. We see it all the time in the Kansas City hauntings.”
“You are so full of it!” Kate observed.
“No, seriously! Happens all the time!”
“Oh really? So you don’t think there are ever any broken hearted men out there, huh?”
Brett shrugged as he slugged down his beer, “I’m sure there is someplace, I’ve just not seen it as much. Back in a minute…”
He picked up his tools and wandered the restaurant checking every corner for possible phantoms while Kate sat alone, elbow propped on the bar. The group stood around a table while their guide hit the restroom and the tour would resume once everyone was done with the pit stop.
Kate had to admit she found this highly amusing and couldn’t quite wait for tonight when she and Brett would get a chance to do some real ghost hunting. She hated to have to debunk him, but it was an interesting experience, if nothing else.
She watched Brett chug his final sip of beer, leaving his empty mug on the bar and walk toward her.
This time Kate couldn’t suppress her laugh at all. The only thing she heard was the roar of afternoon drunks over loud pop music. “Did you hear anything?”
“Nope, no luck this time,” he said with stern seriousness, “And I didn’t see anything in here either, did you?”
Kate shook her head as she sucked the last few drops of her liquid lunch from her straw, knowing it would go faster to her head and further fool her brain into thinking she’d had a decent meal today.
“Okay everyone! Finish up! Time to continue!” Tom shouted over the music.
Brett took Kate’s hand and pulled her along as they filed into the line and headed out the door. She wanted to tell him to let go, but she was too tired and buzzed, and besides, it felt good.
“Our last stop, and perhaps the most deadly, is the famed Buford Hotel, Denver’s finest and oldest. Here there are many encounters of paranormal activity due to the high volume of menace and mayhem that occurred here since the hotel was built in 1888 after the arrival of the railroad. It’s Denver’s most notorious hotel with the likes of Batt Masterson staying here in years past.”
Kate was excited. The tour was finally drawing to a close. It would end in their hotel and she was more than anxious to get some food and sleep off the late afternoon buzz she was now working on.
“It was here at the Buford in 1903 that the honeymoon suite was the site of a horrific crime of passion,” tour guide Tom began.
Kate watched Brett’s eyes widen in anticipation of the rest of the story, she figured it would be of particular interest since they were lucky enough to be staying here for the next two nights.
That must be why we’re staying there since he’s Mr. Paranormal hotshot!
Tom continued telling his tale in the most dramatic tone possible, “….that’s when a young couple, newlyweds, came to the Buford for their honeymoon. You see, it was their first trip together as man and wife, so they traveled far away from their hometown of Kansas City. The young Mr. Bale wanted to surprise his new bride by giving her the very best money could buy.”
Brett was busy snapping pictures of the lobby stairs, chandeliers and front desk while Kate listened intently, wondering why the hell he couldn’t wait until the tour was over. They had plenty of time to take pictures of this hotel.
“You see, the young Mrs. Bale was extremely surprised by her visit to the Buford, not only because she had never been out of Kansas before, but because in those days it was hard to drive by carriage this far to do anything. But Mr. Bale wanted to impress her, for nothing was too good for his young bride, the future mother of his children,” Tom said.
“What room did they stay in?” a woman asked.
“Now ma’am, I’ll be getting to that in just a minute,” the guide patiently told her as the woman nodded. “You see, on the outside, this looked like a perfectly happy couple, but on the inside, trouble was brewing and it was going to come to a head right here in this very hotel.”
For God’s sake would you just get to the punch line? Kate was starving now, her margarita buzz was over half worn off and her patience was wearing thin.
“Mr. Bale had business in town and had to leave his missus by herself during the day and long into the nights during this first week of their marriage and the young lady soon attracted the attention of another male patron of the hotel. People would see them right here in this very room dining together, laughing and enjoying each other’s company, which was not considered proper in those days,” Tom continued. “But all of that might have been okay, except that the stranger became a little forward with the young missus and one night, when she was sure her husband would be out until all hours; however, he missed her and decided to come back to the honeymoon suite early. When he opened the door, he encountered the unthinkable - his lovely bride in the bed with her new friend.”
There were audible gasps from the crowd, and even Kate found the tale compelling. She was just anxious to get to the bottom of it.
“In a fit of rage, Mr. Bale took out his pistol and shot them both between the eyes as they lay together. He ran down the stairs and told the manager what he’d done and put the last bullet into his own head right here, in front of this counter.”
Kate thought about the often horrific things that go on in a place throughout history. The stories were always fascinating, stranger than any fiction.
Brett needed no excuse to march over to the desk and begin snapping photos, blinding the people waiting to be checked in. It was going from cute and sexy to completely embarrassing. Kate covered her eyes with her hand, not wanting anyone to realize she was with him.
“You forgot to tell us what room they were in,” the woman asked Tom again, “The honeymoon suite, is it still here?”
“Yes,” Tom said, “…it is. It’s room 555.”
That’s strange…that’s our room.