The Haunted Vegas Tour (Part 2)

When we last left our heroes, they were intrepidly boarding a tour bus bound for the most haunted locales Las Vegas has to offer. Will the spirits of Sin City's most famous dead seek their revenge on the two sarcastic skeptics? Read on to find out.

The first thing that struck me about the inside of the Haunted Vegas Tour bus was its lack of offensive odor. All my previous experience with tour buses, as small as that may be, prepared me for the recognizable smell that humans seem to produce when seated anywhere for an extended period of time. Fortunately, this particular tour bus was noticeably devoid of that. I took that as a good sign.

Kelsea and I were greeted instead by the amicable tour guide; the man in the top hat we had previously seen while driving past the bus. The tour guide (whom I would later find out was named Jac thanks to the guide bios on the Haunted Vegas Tours website) had since removed his slightly overly-dramatic head gear to reveal a head covered half-way with wispy, white hair. Jac's overall undertaker-like image was furthered by the all-black suit he wore, and by his stature (He was taller than my five foot eight frame, which really isn't saying much). To my surprise, Jac did not make as big a deal of our late arrival as I had expected. He only inquired where we were from, and what had held us up. I repeated the whopper that got us on the bus in the first place, to which Jac reacted with a surprising amount of concern. He asked if Kelsea and I were okay, and even made sure our car was in good-enough condition to get us home. I sheepishly responded, "Yeah, we're fine," to all these questions.

After Jac was done making me feel bad for even telling the lie, he went on with the speech he had been giving before Kelsea and I interrupted him. Jac's general introduction of the haunted sites we would be visiting was aided by a roughly 13-inch television monitor at the front of the bus. The screen seemed to be showing as a slide show of sorts, adding a visual component to Jac's tales of deceased Las Vegans. As I had familiarized myself with the sites on the tour beforehand, I took this time to shift my gaze to my fellow tour-goers. The walk from the entrance to our seat revealed the approximately 12 rows of the half-full passenger compartment. The rows were split by a short aisle, with two seats on each side of the aisle and next to a window. The seats were filled by mostly couples, with a few loners and a pair of young women; approximately 15 people in all. Quite laughably, a Halloween-store plastic skull hung from the rear wall of the bus. From Kelsea's and my vantage point, roughly the middle of the bus, the ones who thought themselves serious ghost hunters were easy to pick out. Their intentions were revealed by the expensive-looking cameras slung from their necks. In general, though, this particular tour seemed to be serving as date night for a number of boyfriends and girlfriends; all equipped with a digital camera of some kind.

With Jac's introduction winding down, the bus lurched to life and began its journey to the first spot on the tour: the Flamingo Hotel and Casino. Jac filled the approximately 15 minutes it took to get there with the story of mobster Benjamin "Bugsy" Siegel. I'll spare you all the non-ghost-related details Jac provided to the group. The only bits of history you really need to know are that Bugsy , along with some mobster buddies, invested in the fledgling casino in the mid-1930s. After skimming too much money from the mob-run operation (you'd think he would know better), he was killed on June 20, 1947 in the house of actress and girlfriend Virginia Hill. Hill, it turned out, had told the mob exactly where Bugsy would be so they could "collect." After Jac got all the history business out of the way, he told of the various place's Bugsy's ghost has been sighted in the Flamingo. In addition to the garden which contains a memorial to the slain mobster (the first stop on the tour),Siegel is also said to haunt one of the suites at the top of the Flamingo's hotel tower. Bugsy refuses to leave this room, Jac said, because it contains the toilet from Bugsy's original apartment in the Flamingo.

The bus jerked forward a bit as the driver applied the brakes and made the right turn into the Flamingo's tour bus parking area. Jac told us that the memorial to Bugsy , located in the Flamingo's garden/pool area, would be our first stop. Not surprisingly, the ghost of the deceased gangster has also been spotted in this area. A brief walk through a bit of the Flamingo's casino, oddly devoid of the usual throngs of eager tourists feeding the ubiquitous one-armed bandits, brought the group to the garden. The odd combination of live bird smell and that of scrambled eggs met my nose as Jac led us outside. I knew beforehand about the live birds, mostly flamingos, the hotel casino kept by the pool, but the al fresco diners enjoying a late-night breakfast were a surprise. Jac lead the group on a winding concrete walkway through decorative bushes drenched with the water of sprinklers working over time until we reached the memorial. Once there, he practically begged everyone to take as many pictures as possible. Undoubtedly in an attempt to get the tour-goers to capture evidence of Bugsy's ghost on camera in the form of the laughable "ghost orb." With cameras flashing everywhere, one tour-goer did manager to capture a mysterious streak of light over Bugsy's roughly eight-foot tall memorial. He eagerly showed it to Jac, as if the discovery would win him some kind of gold star. I managed to sneak a peek of the photo in question on the man's camera display: it looked to me like nothing more than the small light at the top of the memorial being blurred by the movement of the camera in the longer exposure "night shot" mode with which most all digital cameras come equipped. Jac said it could be something, or it could be a blur. The man turned away with the slightest look of disappointment on his face.

It's as this point in my re-telling where I must apologize for the lack of detail, and the failure of my memory, I fear may infest my writing from here. You see, Kelsea and I had been furiously jotting down notes all through our walk to Bugsy's memorial. However, once the picture-taking had subsided a bit, Jac pulled me aside and politely told me such note taking was not allowed on the tour. I later found out that this regulation was due to the detailed notes a patron had taken a few years ago while on the tour and had used to start his own. I know return you to the story.

With Kelsea and I musing over the then-unknown reasons for such a ban on note taking, Jac lead the group back through the casino and onto the tour bus. The bus began its journey up the small incline which lead out of the parking area, and Jac began his next story. He told us we would next be driving past the lamp post where rapper Tupac Shakur was shot while riding as a passenger in his manager's BMW. Jac filled the approximately 15 minutes it took to get there with the rather uninteresting, at least to me, events leading up to of Shakur's death. Of course, the rapper's shade had been seen by a few people walking past the infamous lamp post. Unsurprisingly, the ghost failed to make an appearance for us.

With my interest in the darker side of Las Vegas history waning slightly, as opposed to the ghost stories I was expecting, the bus took us past the so-called "death motel". Jac regaled us with the tales of two B-list television actors who had committed suicide there. Apparently, guests who have rented that particular room, utilized for the last time by both actors, often complained of noise coming from upstairs. But, the motel manager would say, the building is only one story! BUM BUM,BAAAAAHHH!! Yeah, I know, not very scary.

By this time it was about 10:30 pm; roughly an hour in and no ghost sitings. On our way to our next stop, the mansion owned by Shakur's manager and allegedly haunted by the deceased rapper, Jac inexplicably told the tale of Bonnie and Clyde. Now, more than a week after the tour, I still cannot figure out why he brought this story up. The only real connection Bonnie and Clyde have to Nevada is that their "death car" now sits in a hotel casino on the Nevada/California border. I don't remember if Jac mentioned if it was haunted or not, but I'm sure someone, somewhere thinks that it is.

As Jac wrapped up the Bonnie and Clyde story, the bus pulled up to the darkened street on which Shakur's former mansion sits. According to Jac, the rather wealthy denizens here have negotiated with the city to: (1) take all the street lights down and (2) prevent all commercial traffic from using the street. This latter ban, unfortunately, includes tour buses. So, we didn't even get to see Shakur's house up close. Jac did encourage us to come back on our own time and seek the mansion since, according to the neighbors, Shakur's ghost walks the grounds at night. With my eyelids growing heavy, the bus lumbered on to our next stop.

Jac's mention of a haunted park shook me out of almost sleep. Could we really be going to the infamous Fox Ridge, the park I had spent so much time investigating? Well, no. Apparently, Vegas is home to two haunted parks, and the ghost tour switches between them. This night, the bus was headed to a park in the Green Valley area of Las Vegas ( a park's whose name has unfortunately left me). Tonight's next stop allegedly contained a brick barbecue which seemed to attract the ghosts of two young boys. To the excitement of most everyone on board, the group would be allowed to disembark here and search for ghosts using "ghost finder" dowsing rods. That's right: dowsing rods. Here's a picture of the marvels of ghosthunting technology:


Can you believe we got to take these home? They must cost a fortune to make! All sarcasm aside, the dowsing rods were made up of bent medal rods in plastic holders, held there by white beads which had been glued on. When held in the hands and in the presence of ghosts, the rods begin to move. According to Jac , the rods crossing, moving apart or one rod moving alone meant that ghosts were nearby. So basically, if the rods moved at all, there were ghosts around. Jac failed to mention the real cause of the "instruments'" movement: the ideomotor effect. This physical phenomenon also accounts for the movements of Ouija boards.

With most of the group chomping at the bit to once again set foot off the bus, Jac passed around a picture allegedly taken by a former tour-goer in the park. He said it showed the ghosts of the two boys standing by the barbecue. All I saw was a lens distortion producing a milky mist. Once the photo made its rounds on the bus, the group disembarked with dowsing rods in hand. The warmish night air was a relief to the overly-air conditioned bus interior. Jac gave a short demonstration with the dowsing rods, teaching us how to hold them: plastic holders in our up-turned fists, arms roughly eight inches out in front of our chests, giving the rods enough room to swing freely. He then let us loose on the barbecue and surrounding area. Like a school teacher telling his children how much time they had on the playground, he told us we could only spend about 15 minutes ghosthunting. The park soon echoed with the oohs and ahhs of tour-goers experiencing dowsing rod movement. There really is nothing like seeing a bunch of adults wandering around a brick barbecue with the there hands held out in front of them, fists pointing toward the sky as if balancing an invisble serving dish. Cameras flashed and soon, just like at Bugsy's memorial, someone called Jac over to see the picture displayed on their camera. The woman had caught the same type of blur as the man at the Flamingo, this time of a far off street light, but somehow illicited a much stronger reaction from Jac. Even as Jac herded us back onto the bus, he was marvelling at the amazing picture the woman had took.

The last three stops now seem a blur to me. I'm sure part of this was due to the fact that it was approximately 11:15 pm, and I did not get a nap that day. The bus took us past the former house of 70s television star Redd Foxx, allegedly haunted by the comedian's ghost. Jac's story and the accompanying slide show on the bus's television monitor told me more about Foxx's rise to stardom and eventual near-penniless death than I ever wanted to know. Employees of the real estate company that now inhabits the house still tale tales of mischievous goings on which are attributed to Foxx's poltergeist.

The next stop, roughly 20 minutes away, took us the past the Italian restaurant, Carluccio's Tivoli Gardens, once owned by flamboyant piano-player and Las Vegas regular Liberace. The place is allegedly haunted by the late performer's ghost, as several employee's there have apparently testified. Kelsea and I ate dinner there a few nights later, and we can only vouch for the quality of the establishment's food. My audible denial of the existence of Liberace's ghost, which has apparently caused wine bottles to be thrown across the room in the past, elicited now noticeable reaction.

At long last, the flashing lights of the Las Vegas Hilton signaled our final stop, and the end of our tour. I don't want to make it seem like the tour was an ordeal, I was just tired. While Jac's take on Vegas history was interesting, his presentation left something to be desired. That is, is was hardly riveting. It seems no story of Sin City's past can be complete without a mention of Elvis. Well, guess what? His ghost allegedly haunts the freight elevator and backstage area of the Hilton's theater. After a show, Elvis would take said elevator to discreetly reach his massive suite at the top of the Hilton. With a final anecdote about Liberace designing Elvis's famous white jumpsuit, Jac's stories came to an end.

The bus rumbled back to the parking lot from whence it had departed. Jac asked Kelsea and I a final time if my car was okay to get back home. A weary "it's fine" escaped my lips, and Kelsea and I ambled back to my waiting PT Cruiser. Two and one half hours spent on a ghost tour, and all we had to show for it were some fun stories and dowsing rods. An experience in which I'm glad I took part, but perhaps not completely worth the $56.25 per ticket.

My final review: three out five candles flickering in the dark.

The Haunted Vegas Tour (Part 1)

In the final days of my two-week long vacation, I was lucky enough to attend a Haunted Vegas Tour with my girlfriend, Kelsea. The experience was memorable, to say the least, even if it did not completely live up to my expectations. A brief bit of background: the two and one-half hour tour takes eager tourists and ghost hunters, both amateur and, well, amateur, to 21 of Sin City's allegedly most haunted sites.

The balmy, desert night marked on most calenders as August 27 started like most memorable nights do: with a lie. Kelsea and I left my house at approximately 8:30 pm, giving us enough time, we hoped, to fight our way through Vegas traffic and make it to the small hotel/casino from which the tour bus departed at 9:30 pm. The trip there went rather smoothly and, serendipitously enough as you shall see, we arrived at approximately 9:05 pm. For any readers of mine who may live in Vegas, the hotel was located on Convention Center Dr. and Paradise, just north of Desert Inn. As you can probably guess, not the best part of town. I found a parking space across from the presumed tour meeting spot (the bus had yet to arrive) and I figured now might be a good time to make sure I had both $56.25 tickets with me. Why I chose this moment, even I never quite understood. An increasingly frantic search of my pockets and all the nooks and crannys my PT Cruiser had to offer failed to turn up the much needed tickets. As Kelsea, who has the patience of the proverbial saint, calmed me down, my cell phone rang. It was my dad telling me I had left the tickets on the kitchen counter. A wave of simultaneous relief and fresh panic washed over me: I at once new where the tickets were, and that Kelsea and I were most likely going to miss tonight's tour. Fortunately, I was able to talk my dad into meeting me halfway in between the tour meeting spot and my house with the tickets; an approximately 30-minute drive. This spot turned out to be the 1st-8th grade school I had attended in my first years as a Las Vegan. It was now 9:10 pm.

Due to some rather skilled driving on the part of both me and my dad, Kelsea and I were able to make it back to the tour meeting spot by 9:40 pm. Sadly, as I had expected, the tour bus had already departed. But, as Kelsea pointed out, on our way to the hotel/casino we had driven by a small tour bus stopped on the side of the street on which the meeting place was located. We both noticed the bus's tinted windows, and the man inside decked out in a top hat standing in front of the seated passengers. We both agreed, this had to be the bus we had missed. After some discussion, we decided to try our luck and approach the stopped tour bus, tickets in hand. I made a quick u-turn and parked in the lot of the next hotel casino up the street, a few yards from the stopped bus.

The brisk walk of two young suburbanites not quite comfortable in a slightly shady part of town at night brought us to the cab of the bus. The vehicle was one of those van-in-the-front, short-bus-in-the-back numbers; resembling a small RV camper from the outside. I tentatively knocked on the passenger side window of the bus, the side closest to the sidewalk. Once I got the driver's attention, I pressed the tickets up against the window. He motioned for me to come to the driver's-side door. I asked if this was indeed the Haunted Vegas Tour bus, to which the driver replied that is was. This is when the lies started pouring out of me. I told him that my girlfriend and I had been rear-ended on our way to the tour's meeting spot. He seemed genuinely concerned and asked if anyone one had been hurt. I said no one had, and that the accident had barely scraped the paint on either car. He asked me if I had any police report or other such documentation, to which I replied no. I said I had told the driver who rear-ended me that I was in a hurry, and didn't want to make a big deal out of this minor accident. He reacted to this as if it was a sensible answer, and asked to see the tickets. I eagerly showed him my I.D., anxious to let him know that I was indeed the Jeremy who paid for the tickets. With the slightest of nods, he called back to the tour guide letting him know he had two late-comers who were scheduled to take the tour. I flashed an excited thumbs-up to Kelsea waiting on the curb, and we made our way onto the dimly-lit tour bus.

In tomorrow's second and final installment, the nature of people on the tour, loads of dead Las Vegans and fooling around with dowsing rods.

The Fox Ridge Park Ghost

While it has been fun trolling through various news websites, scanning them for news fit to write about for this blog, there is nothing quite like writing your own story. Checking on sources, talking to people, doing real investigative work. The thrill produced from such endeavors is really hard to describe, but it's a feeling I find simply intoxicating. But, enough waxing poetic about doing what amounts to exciting homework, let me tell you what I've been up to the past few days.

All this started with the discovery of Haunted Vegas Tours. Driving all over my hometown in a bus, stopping at nearly all the alleged ghost hangouts Sin City has to offer immediately jumped out at me. What experience would be more appropriate to write about for a blog called "Jeremy the Skeptic"? All the sites the tour visits offer an opportunity to interview eyewitnesses, research a bit of Las Vegas history and really exercise my investigative reporter muscles. Fortunately, I'll be taking this very tour on August 27, accompanied by my beautiful girlfriend, who seems just as excited about the experience as I am. I plan to write a full account of my experiences on the tour, alongside background on each of the allegedly haunted sites. A few days ago, I started research on the stories that will be told on the tour. What follows are the fruits of my efforts so far.

The first site that seemed ripe for investigation was Fox Ridge Park in Henderson, approximately one mile from my house. To those who don't live in Nevada, Henderson borders Las Vegas, and holds the distinction of being Nevada's fastest growing city. The Haunted Vegas Tour advertises Fox Ridge as a chance to get off the bus and stretch your legs a bit, and to capture the alleged ghost of a boy killed in a drunk driving accident on film. From the "ghost blog" on the tour's website:

"The swing at Fox Ridge park in Henderson Nevada is home to the ghost of a little boy who likes to swing late at night. It seems that the ghostly youngster doesn't like to be bothered while swinging. If you look him in the eyes his face turns into a "demon" and he vanishes."

The drunk-driving account comes from a book entitled Weird Las Vegas and Nevada, which happens to be co-written by Tim Cridland, one of the Haunted Vegas Tour guides. The book cites an unnamed Las Vegas paranormal investigation group as the source for the story. Finding which Vegas paranormal investigative group provided the book's information would be my next objective.

Both the authors of Weird Las Vegas and the Haunted Vegas Tours website cite a woman named Janice Oberding as a historian and paranormal investigator with whom they consulted regarding the most well-known ghost stories in Vegas. Oberding is the author of Haunted Nevada, a book published in 2003 recounting all the various ghost stories that permeate Nevada's past. I looked up Oberding's name and found her website, which describes her as a member of Las Vegas Paranormal investigations (LVPI). (LVPI's website has an elaborate Flash animation intro that might take a while to load over some connections. Just a warning.) LVPI appeared to be just the Vegas paranormal group for which I was looking.

The first e-mail sent off in this entire endeavor went to the head of LVPI; a Mike C. I asked if LVPI was indeed the group mentioned in Weird Las Vegas and if they were, would he be able to provide me with any details regarding the alleged ghost. This is what Mr. C. told me:

"I can tell you that the park is haunted by the boy who was killed by a drunk driver. Boy's name is unknown and a woman who was killed by an axe. The boy plays on the swings and the lady walks the perimeter of the park looking for her kids."

While the little boy story fit with Weird Las Vegas's account, the murdered woman was an addition I had never heard. I replied to Mike C. asking if he knew when the boy or woman were killed, and if he knew of any police reports or newspaper articles that supported the stories. He has yet to reply to me.

I sent out a flurry of other e-mails asking about the Fox Ridge story, one to Oberding, others to various ghost-themed websites listing Fox Ridge as one of many haunted sites in Henderson. All contained the question, phrased basically the same, "Where did you hear this story?" (I have yet to receive replies to any of them.) With those sent, I decided I could only do so much with my face 12 inches from my computer screen and my mouse furiously finding its way through links, as if it was searching for some elusive piece of digital cheese. I needed to see this place for myself. So, equipped with camera, pen and notebook, I drove the approximately 20 minutes to Fox Ridge Park.

What first greeted me as I turned the corner onto the street adjacent to the park was a flood of childhood memories. It turns out I had spent more than one hot, summer day with my friends at Fox Ridge as a fourth-grade student. At that time, I don't remember hearing any tales of deceased children or women cleaved by axes inhabiting the park. I suppose that's for the better. At that age, such stories would have never let me return to the playground and swing sets I found so enjoyable.

With the nostalgia fading, I found a parking space and made my way across the street to the well-tended grass of the park. I was searching for some sort of memorial to a child killed in a drunk-driving accident. All the tales never said where the boy was killed, but I felt it was safe to presume it was somewhere near the park. Why else would the boy's ghost bother to haunt the place? What I found were 10 memorial plaques placed at the base of 10 trees; one plaque to a tree. Each plaque was about the size of a phone book, and seemed to be professionally placed. Some subsequent research found that a memorial tree and plaque could be bought from the Henderson Department of Parks and Recreation for $250 US. Some of the plaques described people that could have been the boy or murdered woman, so I took pictures of those and continued my trek around the park. While decidedly not frightening during the day, I could see how Fox Ridge could take on a haunted air in the middle of the night. The slightest breeze made the chains of the swing sets clink and the leaves of the numerous trees rustle ominously. However, I heard nothing but cars passing by and the drone of lovesick cicadas. If the park is indeed haunted, no ghost saw fit to make its appearance known to me.

With the names of some possible ghosts in hand, I returned home and delved into the online archives of the Las Vegas Review Journal (RJ), the city's largest newspaper. I hoped to find any article describing deaths similar to the ones told in the story. I was able to affirmatively rule out five of the 11 memorial plaques whose names I recorded. One story ruled out three plaques at once: those of Esther, Cynthia and Cathy Perez. All three women were killed in 1996 in a car accident. No drunk driver was reportedly involved. From the RJ article:

"Esther Perez was killed on Interstate 15 near the California-Nevada border when the sport-utility vehicle she was traveling in with her daughters Cathy, 16, and Cynthia, 17, veered out of control and then flipped, California Highway Patrol officer Ed Martinez said."

The forth plaque held the name of a woman who could have fit the description of the murdered ghost. Her name was Brenda Stuart-Rowsell. I was able to find her obituary in a 2005 edition of the RJ:

"BRENDA STUART ROWSELL We would like to say to our beloved wife, mother, daughter, sister, aunt, niece, cousin, and friend, Brenda Lynn (Stuart) Rowsell, 28, a homemaker, of Henderson, who was called to be with her Heavenly Father Monday, Feb. 7, 2005, in Henderson; that we love you very much and we will see you later. Brenda was born April 23, 1976, in Salt Lake City. Brenda is survived by her husband, Eric; children, Eric, Ashley, Kara and Katie; mother, Karen; father, Jim (Scherry); brothers, Richard (Mindy) and Bryan; sister, Rachel; grandparents, Al and Genette Taylor and Don Cole; aunt, Janice (Ron); uncles, Roger and Ray (Sherri); and numerous cousins, nieces, and nephews who will miss her always. Brenda has been reunited with her grandmother, Joann Cole."

No mention of a murder in the obituary, nor could I find any news story describing such an occurrence.

The fifth plague contained the names of two men: Steve M. Szany and Dave A. Bender. No age was given for either of them on the plaque, so I thought either one of them could have been the boy allegedly killed by a drunk driver. It turned these two men were murdered in 2000 by Stephen Ciolino. From the RJ story describing Ciolino's sentencing in 2005:

"In a sentencing hearing, Stephen Ciolino acknowledged in the courtroom of District Judge Jennifer Togliatti that he participated in the murders of David Bender, 21, and Steve Szany, 22, at a Henderson apartment complex in 2000."

Searches of the names of the rest of the plaques turned up absolutely no news stories, nor any records from the Clark County Coroner's office. In fact, I found no stories telling of any drunk driving accident near Fox Ridge Park. I called the elementary school bordering the park, Estes McDoniel Elementary School, on Friday to see if any teachers there had heard the stories. The school was unfortunately closed for the day. I plan to try again Monday.

After I went as far as I could go with the names on the memorial plaques, I decided to search for further retellings of the Fox Ridge ghost tale. This is where the story gets a bit interesting. I could find no account of the alleged haunting before 2005. The earliest record of it I found was a story in the RJ about the Haunted Vegas Tour. From the article:

"A highlight of the tour comes at the halfway point, when visitors leave the bus to take a nighttime walk in Henderson's Fox Ridge Park where, some say, a deceased boy still visits. According to a tour guide, a swing in the park occasionally can be seen moving, even when there's no breeze."

The Fox Ridge ghost is also absent from Oberding's 2003 book, Haunted Nevada. Why did she not see fit to include it? How did the story make it into Weird Las Vegas, which was published in 2007? Did the people at LVPI simply make it up, or is everyone involved? These sorts of questions, though asked in a less accusatory tone, made up the various e-mails to which I have yet to receive replies. I was amazed at how many ghost-themed websites just list this story with absolutely no sources. Doesn't anyone do any research? It also bugs me how the majority of stories in Haunted Nevada cite that ubiquitous bastion of credible information, "some." But that's a whole separate post.

I'm determined to get to the bottom of this. I have no idea how long it will take for the people mentioned above to reply to my e-mail questions. Perhaps a call to Estes McDoniel Elementary will clear some of this up, but I somehow doubt it. The tour itself may provide the answers I seek, though it might be difficult to talk to the guides while they're working. The best lead I have so far is a tentative interview I have with Haunted Vegas Tour guide and Weird Las Vegas co-author Tim Cridland tomorrow. I will of course post any further developments here.