Part Fourteen – The White Dog Theory
We met Bill in the downstairs lobby at noon. I could tell Amber was nervous so I put an arm around her waist. Bill was sitting in one of the brown leather chairs by the fireplace. A better description would be that Bill was sitting on one of the brown leather chairs. Even the oversized chairs were too small for him.
Bill stood as we approached and looked directly at Amber. “Hello Amber, I’m Bill.” He said, “I think we have a little bit of the Elephant and the Mouse situation going on here so let’s get this out in the open right now.”
“Sure.” Amber said. I could tell she was going to go off to find her happy place any second, so I squeezed her waist a little to remind her that I was there.
“Ok, Amber, no offense, but you scare the living shit out of me.” He said. “You remind me of the Tinkerbell, without wings.”
“Whaat?” Amber looked at me confused. “I scare you?”
“I hate bugs.” He said, “Or better yet I hate any flying creature. Bugs, Bats, Birds, you name it.”
Sweat started forming on his brow and I was convinced that he was on the verge of a panic attack.
“I’ve never even been to Disneyland, hell I don’t even want to be anywhere near Florida.” He continued. ‘Because I’m afraid that bitch is going to fly up my pant leg and bite me on the ass. So, I’m going to apologize right now if I stare or better yet if I don’t make eye contact with you at all. Now, that’s the deal. I have had this fear since I was a child and I can’t get over it.” Finally, he added, “I’m sorry I didn’t call on you last night, but there you have it.”
“Let me get this right, Ivan uh…Bill.” Amber said with a renewed bravery. “You are afraid of a two-inch-tall, Disney character, and you think I look like her?” She paused in thought. “Or are you effing with me?”
Bill locked eyes on Amber’s for a few seconds then, “Damn, you’re good.” Said Bill, with a Cheshire Cat grin on his face. “You’re right, I’m messing with you. But don’t you see how ridiculous it is to be afraid of me?”
“No.” She said, “I don’t think it’s out of the realm of possibility that any time you wanted, you could crush my head with one of these.” She grabbed his hand and raised it up toward him.” She started laughing, “You Asshole!”
He started laughing with her. It must have been a real show and I started laughing at the thought. The crazy man from room 202, the elf, and the giant all yucking it up in the lobby of a haunted hotel, like some bad Lord of the Rings sequel “She’s right, you are an Asshole.” I told him. “I believed every word you said.”
“Hey.” Bill said, “It worked.” he said, shrugging his broad shoulders, “Let’s get some lunch.”
I started walking towards the Cascades restaurant thinking “Here we go again.” When Bill stopped me.
“Where are you going Ken?” He said. “We don’t eat there, it’s too damn expensive. There’s a food truck around back. That’s where all the staff eat lunch.”
We let him lead the way as he walked out of the basement entrance and around to the back of the hotel. Like Bill promised, there was a food truck there with a short line of hotel staff waiting for food. The truck had all its doors open and the smell was incredible. My mouth started watering right away.
Bill turned and started walking backwards toward the truck. “Told you.” He said, “Stick with the brotherhood.” He pointed at me, “Lord of the Rings, right?”
All I could do was laugh and shake my head. He had done it again and now I was convinced he was a mind reader.
Bill ordered enough food to feed five grown men, but the price for all of us was less than thirty dollars. He grabbed a table with his free hand and dragged it over toward the waterfall. He placed his food down on the table and sat on the large rock at the bottom of the waterfall. “He’s done this before.” I thought, as Amber and I grabbed chairs and sat down.
We made small talk during lunch. Each of us in turn told the story of how we got to the Stanley Hotel. I was amazed at how comfortable we were. When we were finished eating Bill got up and took all our trash off the table. He walked back towards us and sat down on his rock.
“Ok, Ken.” He said. “Let’s get right to it.”
“What did you find out?” I asked. As both Amber and I leaned forward in our chairs.
“First, let’s talk about what it means to see a white dog.” He started. “There are several different modes of thought about this one, but I’ll try to condense it down for you.” Amber and I were both nodding. “Seeing a real honest to goodness, flesh and blood white dog means…” He took a piece of notebook paper from his front pocket and glanced at it. “Ok, that means New Beginnings.”
“I guess that kind of makes sense.” I said as I looked at Amber.
“I said a real white dog Ken.” Bill offered. “Next, what does a white dog mean in a dream?” He looked at me for a second and continued reading. “Seeing a white dog in a dream means you have strong values and will go far in life.” He held a huge finger in the air, “If that white dog is growling, then it means you are having some sort of inner conflict.”
Any more? I asked.
“One more that I think is significant and for some reason I think it’s a better fit.” He offered. “Seeing a white spirit dog or ghost dog, means the loss of a friend or a deterioration of your instincts. Your judgment Ken.”
“So, it’s either a real dog, a ghost, or I am dreaming the whole thing.” I said after a few seconds thought. “Could be good, could be bad. Correct me if I’m wrong Bill, but that doesn’t really answer any questions.”
“Small steps Ken.” Bill said. “You have to learn to crawl before you learn to walk.”
“Yes.” Amber added looking thoroughly lost in thought. She then whispered, “Someone’s coming.”
“Who’s coming Amber?” I asked. She didn’t answer and Bill went on.
“I also got some information on the hotel photograph in your room. You’d be surprised to find out how hard it is to get information on a stock photograph.” Bill said. “I don’t know what it means, but at least we know.”
“Go on Bill.” I said, looking at Amber. She was completely lost in thought.
Bill pulled a folded piece of paper from his back pocket. “Ok, now this is freaky, even to me. I’ve read every book I could find on The Stanley Hotel and most of the stories are just someone else’s poor version of a ghost story. Maybe they didn’t think this story was significant, I don’t know.” Bill said as he flattened out the piece of paper he had pulled from his pocket.
“It’s the same photograph that’s on my wall.” I said.
“Yes, it is Ken.” Bill continued. “Ladies and gentlemen, meet Mrs. Katherine McSwain and her niece Ellen Braxton. He pointed to each of the two women as he spoke. “Now, in 1912, the McSwain’s visited this very hotel. Sometime during their visit, this photo was taken.”
“Ok, we know their names, so what?” I said, hoping Bill would get to the point.
“Patience Ken, I’m getting there.” Bill said, putting a massive hand on my shoulder. “Mrs. Katherine McSwain was the wife of Alvin McSwain, the not so famous Egyptologist.”
“And.” I said, getting more annoyed with each word. Bill gave my shoulder a little squeeze, looked at me, and smiled.
“Alvin McSwain is most famous as being the assistant and silent partner, of this man.” His huge finger went to the middle of the page and pointed at a picture of another man. “This is Grafton Elliot Smith. Better known as G. E. Smith.” My interest had picked up a little as I looked at the man’s picture. “Also in 1912, G. E. Smith published a book containing a list of all the known royal mummies up until that date.”
“Now we’re on to mummies?” I asked.
‘No Ken, we are not on to mummies, although that would be an unexpected twist. I simply wanted you to know a little of the back story. Now can I continue.?” He asked.
“By all means, Bill.” I answered, looking over at Amber again. She was staring blankly at the back of the hotel.
“In 1912, Sir Alvin McSwain sued G. E. Smith because he didn’t feel he was properly recognized in the book. Soon after McSwain filed suit he brought his wife, Katherine,” he pointed to one of the women in the picture, “and his niece, Ellen,” pointing at the other woman, “to The Stanley Hotel.” “And this,” he said pointing to the dog in the picture, “This is their white poodle.” His voiced was booming with excitement and I indicated that he needed to lower his voice. “Katherine McSwain disappeared soon after the trip.” He said whispering.
“What happened to her?”, I asked.
“No one knows.” Bill answered, “Alvin McSwain and Ellen, uh Braxton, left together without Katherine or the white poodle. Story is, Katherine ran off with her boyfriend to New York.”
“Again, Bill.” I said, “That doesn’t help a whole hell of a lot.”
“It doesn’t answer any questions, but it gives us a place to start.” Bill continued, “You said something about scratches under your bed?”
“Yep, angry white poodle.” I added smiling
“Let’s go check it out.” Amber whispered still far off in her thoughts.
We left and started the trip back to my room. On the way, Amber grabbed my hand. “This is trouble.” I thought, “Big Fat Kenneth type of trouble.”
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