The Haunting at Sebring Hotel (A Riveting Haunted House Mystery Series Book 13)

by J. S. Donovan

“The police never apprehended anyone,” Justin called the man out on his lie.

  “Not formally,” Mr. Ferguson said. “They instead put him in the back of a squad car, drove him out to the woods, and put a bullet in his head.”

  “Why? That could’ve been the story of the century,” Justin said.

  “Because Club Blue isn’t what you think it is. Sure, it was a secret Masonic lodge and, yes, it was a middle ground where the elite and ambitious upstarts would discuss under the table business ventures while indulging in their wildest fantasies. But Marco Blanc had something much bigger going on. Club Blue was a honey pot.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Let me describe it like this: if you had a very specific fetish, Mr. Blanc would find avenues to give you what you desired. It could young or old, black or white, disposable. You would pay Mr. Blanc a little extra for his discretion. Little did you know, Mr. Blanc filmed your stay behind hidden walls and mirrors. A few months later, you might get a call from one of Mr. Blanc’s employees asking for a favor. Maybe it was to invest in a certain business or to pull out all your stock on a certain day. You get the idea.”

  Justin nodded along. “If they refused, he’d release the tape.”

  “As you can imagine, this made people very angry with Mr. Blanc. One particular client, Hugo Green, heard that there was a film of him with a dead man. He got very angry at Mr. Blanc. While staying on the fourth-floor suite, he locked the doors and started a fire. Eight prominent figures died and another ten unnamed women and children went with them. Hugo escaped somehow. Blanc and the police agreed the fire was an accident. See, the police chief had a film about him too. What he didn’t know was that the true reason for the fire was so Hugo could destroy the films.”

  “Did he?” Justin asked.

  “He did, but Blanc kept it a secret. After all, he was vulnerable now. He used his resources and contacts to find Hugo, but he’d fled to Canada. In 1978, Hugo thought everyone had forgotten about his stunt and wanted to return to the U.S of A. He was killed two days after entering the country.”

  Justin said, “Geez.”

  “Suddenly, the haunting stopped,” Mr. Ferguson said. “Marco and his heir were both dead and I was in charge now. I never tried to restart the honey pot, but I did preserve the elegance of the fine hotel.”

  “When did you start working there?”

  “In the early ‘70s. I was a bellhop, but my discretion and loyalty helped me to earn my position,” Mr. Ferguson said. “Life was good, but then the hauntings began again.”

  “Someone else was killed.”

  “Yes,” Mr. Ferguson said. “Over the thirty years that followed, more and more specters appeared. They’d speak to me, and I soon got used to it.”

  Justin interrupted him, “You said Trent was the first one you saw.”

  “Of the latest batch, yes,” Mr. Ferguson replied, “I was annoyed. The burn victims were gone. The other specters roamed the halls. I knew there was a killer about, but I had no power to stop him. I stopped promoting the hotel, hoping it would save lives.”

  “Why not shut it down?” Justin asked.

  “I still needed to make a living. Besides, there are certain powerful people that warned me what would happen to me if I left my post,” Mr. Ferguson explained.

  “Well, more than fourteen people have gone missing since the fire. Why are we only seeing three?” Justin asked.

  Mr. Ferguson replied. “That’s because the killer of the first fourteen is dead now.”

  “How?”

  “I don’t know, but one day, they all vanished,” Mr. Ferguson replied. “Fifteen years later, specters started to appear again.”

  “Obviously the killer is using the hidden passages. Why didn’t you block them?” Justin asked.

  “Those passages are the killer’s domain. The only reason why I’m still alive is because I refused to investigate them.”

  “Not even one time?” Justin asked, not believing him.

  “Never,” Mr. Ferguson said seriously.

  Justin stroked his chin. “I guess this leads me back to my first question. Who is the killer?”

  Mr. Ferguson replied, “All I can say is that he is a reoccurring guest.”

  Justin was annoyed. “Obviously.”

  Mr. Ferguson reached into his jacket.

  Justin went tense, ready to attack if he saw a gun.

  Mr. Ferguson withdrew his wallet and pulled out a small photograph. “This is from twelve years ago.”

  Justin held the picture. It showed two rows of ten men. The first ten were seated and the other ten stood behind them. “Who are they?”

  “Loyal guests,” Mr. Ferguson replied. “I offered them all a free week’s stay for their frequent reoccurrence at Club Blue. If you’re looking for your killer, he has to be one of them.”

  Justin studied the photo. A grey-haired man in the back row stood behind a teenage boy. The adult man had the same eyes, square jaw, and nose as…

  Justin’s jaw fell open. “Who is this one?”

  “That’s Pierce,” Mr. Ferguson said. “He died of a heart attack two years after the photo was taken.”

  “What’s his last name?” Justin asked.

  “Ryder,” Mr. Ferguson said.

  Justin said, “Was he ever a suspect?”

  “All these men were.”

  Justin pulled out his phone and snapped a picture of the photo. The wind screamed. The temperature quickly dropped. The storm was coming a lot faster than he’d expected. “One last question.”

  “What?” Mr. Ferguson asked.

  “Were you the one staying in the unburnt fourth-floor suite?” Justin asked.

  Mr. Ferguson’s silence spoke volumes.

  Justin said, “I want your number.”

  “Why should I give that to you?”

  “Because if you don’t, I’ll call the police,” Justin said.

  “How long are you going to use the same leverage to get your way?”

  “Until it stops working. Phone number now.”

  The concierge begrudgingly recited it.

  Justin called him. Once he heard the ring in Ferguson’s pocket, he hung up. “Keep that on. If someone else goes missing, you’re the first one I’m calling.” Justin sped-walked away from the bench.

  “You’ll be wasting your time!” the concierge yelled.

  “We’ll see about that!” Justin shouted back.

  He sprinted to the SUV and locked the doors behind him.

  Fat raindrops pelted the windshield. Justin used the overhead light to review the ledgers. It took a while, but he was able to match four of the missing person’s visitations with Pierce’s time at the hotel. Pierce might’ve been dead, but his son wasn’t.

  “It must run in the family,” he mumbled as he called his mom.

  The phone rang a few times before going to voicemail. He tried again. Same result. Frustrated, he left a message. “Mom, it’s Justin. I need you to call me right away. You’re in danger.”

  He sent her a few texts, demanding that she call before trying Asher’s phone. He didn’t pick up either.

  Justin punched the steering wheel.

  35

  The Kitchen

  The fork speared the last chunk of fresh grouper. Anna bit it, savoring the lemon-zest taste. Her eyes almost rolled in pleasure.

  “Good, huh?” Cameron asked.

  “Uh-hmm,” Anna chewed. She hovered her hand over her mouth. Good is an understatement. Anna said, “I need to hire your chef.”

  Cameron replied, “He’s a local legend. He used to work here.”

  “No kidding,” Anna replied. She glanced over, seeing the tall and wide chef lingering by the kitchen door. He wore his white garb and traditional hat. “When my finances are in the black again, he’ll be the first person I hire.”

  Cameron said, “He might be worth the investment now. Imagine having a cook-to-order chef as one of the hotel’s perks.”

  “That wo
uld be fancy,” Anna said.

  “Fancy attracts the wealthy,” Cameron said. “You can’t have more freeloaders like me taking up useful space.”

  Anna said, “I didn’t realize you thought so lowly of yourself.”

  “I was hoping the fancy clothes and food would help you ignore my many flaws,” Cameron said with a wry smile.

  “Well, it’s working.” Anna sipped her wine. She set down her glass and rested her knee on her interlocked fingers. The alcohol was a lot stronger than she realized, but she wasn’t at the point where she was seeing double. Yet. “What’s next for you?”

  Cameron dabbed the corner of his cheek. “What do you mean?”

  “You can’t stay in Club Blue forever,” Anna replied. “Surely the agency will call you to some other small town.”

  “About that.” There was a seriousness in Cameron’s tone. “I’m not on active duty.”

  “Oh? What happened?” Anna asked.

  Cameron said, “A few months ago, I lost my temper and hurt someone I shouldn’t have. I thought he was guilty. I was so sure of it, too. When it turned out I was wrong, they put me on leave.”

  “This whole time then…”

  “Yeah, I’ve been unemployed. I’m sorry I’ve not been honest with you. I thought I could earn my way back on payroll after cracking the Club Blue case,” Cameron confessed. “There goes our relationship, huh?”

  “Are you kidding me? No. It’s just a job,” Anna said. “In full transparency, your career terrified me.”

  Cameron smiled lopsidedly. “Why’s that?”

  “I don’t know. It felt like I always had to look over my shoulder while you were around,” Anna admitted. “I know it’s stupid, but I’ve always felt awkward around authority figures.”

  Cameron took a drink of wine. “1962. Strong stuff.”

  Anna agreed. “Let’s go back to talking about your future.”

  Cameron replied, “There’s a lot of uncertainty. If I don’t get this job back, I don’t know where I’d go. Perhaps I could be your bartender. You really need one, by the way. It’s not fair for the rest of us that we have to wait until your evening shift to get drinks.”

  “I’ll take your resume into consideration,” Anna teased.

  “Oh, that’s cruel,” Cameron said.

  “Tough,” Anna replied.

  The chef checked his watch. He approached the table and leaned down to whisper to Cameron. The agent pulled a few twenties out of his pocket and slipped them into the chef’s hand. The chef thanked Anna and Cameron and left for the night.

  Anna yawned, covering her mouth.

  Cameron asked, “You like it here?”

  “That’s a loaded question.”

  “Seems pretty yes or no to me.”

  Anna said, “I like the idea of it, but in light of current events, I have doubts.”

  “Like Lance,” Cameron remarked.

  “He’s one of many issues. Thank you for saving me, by the way,” Anna said. “You were a godsend.”

  “I don’t know about all that,” Cameron said, trying to stay humble. “I just couldn’t stand by while a beautiful woman was being attacked.”

  “You’re really laying on the sauce thick tonight,” Anna remarked.

  Cameron said, “I think it’s healthy to know your partner’s intentions before agreeing to anything.”

  “And what are your intentions, Agent?” Anna asked.

  “To get to know you, first and foremost. Then, maybe we could travel. I’ve not had many long-term relationships, but it’s something I’d like to try with you.”

  “Why me?” Anna asked. “You’re charming enough to have a lot of girls.”

  “You’re a fighter,” Cameron said. “Life hits you and you get back up. Most people would’ve fled months ago. You stayed. From the moment I saw you in York’s police station, I knew you had a predator instinct that didn’t just overcome challenges, but crushed them completely.”

  “That’s a kind of creepy way of saying it,” Anna replied.

  Cameron locked eyes with her. “You get it, right? It’s like that instinct to thrive. Sometimes, we have to remind ourselves who we are. Overcoming a challenge is one of the best ways to do that.”

  “I agree,” Anna said. “You don’t know how fast you can run until you start moving.”

  “Exactly,” Cameron replied.

  The lights flickered.

  Anna glanced around.

  Cameron said, “Storm’s here.”

  “Maybe that’s our cue to turn in for the night,” Anna said.

  “Whatever you want to do.”

  “I’ll put these dishes in the kitchen. Maybe I’ll wash them tomorrow,” she said.

  Cameron grabbed his plate and the glasses. Anna took her plate and the wine bucket. Without bothering to turn on the massive kitchen’s lights, she put the dishes in the sink.

  “Wine?” Anna asked.

  “We’ll take it back to my room.”

  Anna put a hand on her hip and raised one eyebrow.

  “What?” Cameron said innocently. “It’s really heavy.”

  “Uh-huh,” Anna said slowly. “I got your number, buster.”

  “You talk like you’re from the ‘80s,” Cameron said. He held open the kitchen door.

  “It was a good era,” Anna replied.

  “Debatable,” Cameron said.

  “Agree to disagree, how about that?” Anna said.

  They joked and laughed all the way up to Cameron’s room. Anna felt extra tipsy. She could keep her balance, but couldn’t stop talking. She was a loud drunk. Her trek ended at Cameron’s door.

  Cameron turned to her. “Thank you, Anna.”

  “Thank me? I should be thanking you,” Anna said.

  “No, I’m serious. I’ve been on my own for so long I almost forget what it's like to have fun. A couple of hundred bucks and calling in a big favor from my favorite chef is a small price to pay for a night like this,” Cameron said.

  Anna looked deep into Cameron’s eyes. “Sometimes I can’t tell if you’re a hopeless romantic or learned all your lines from cheesy novels.”

  “Maybe both.” Cameron neared her lips.

  Anna shut her eyes and met his kiss halfway. She tasted the wine in his breath. The kiss was brief and simple but left Anna’s heart fluttering.

  Cameron brushed the back of his index figure down her cheek. “Have I told you you’re beautiful yet?”

  “A few times,” Anna replied. She leaned in for another kiss but pulled away before their lips touched.

  A wry smile accentuated her tease.

  Grinning ear to ear, Cameron opened the door. “You can place the wine on the counter. I may have a little more tonight.”

  Anna peered into the tidy suite. He’d cleaned today. Anna handed him the ice bucket. “It’s late, Agent. I should get to bed.”

  Cameron hid his disappointment. He quickly gathered his composure. “A kiss goodnight?”

  Anna sighed exaggeratedly and kissed him. She held the back of his neck and felt a spark she hadn’t felt since she first met James.

  When the kiss ended, she wished him goodnight.

  He did likewise and watched her walk away for a moment before closing his door.

  Feeling like a million bucks, Anna quickened her pace. She thought about turning in for the night but remembered to secure the lobby. It wasn’t long after 10 pm, but she was okay not receiving any new guests tonight. She locked the glass front doors, her mindset on the bubble bath that awaited her.

  Humming, she put a sign to call her in case of emergency on the counter and headed to the ballroom where she had forgotten her purse. She grabbed it off the chair, pushed her seat in, and stopped. Having dirty dishes in the sink nagged at her.

  She decided to give them a quick wash. It wouldn’t take long and she wanted to make sure the chef didn’t break anything.

  Upon entering the large kitchen, she toggled the light switch. The fluorescent tube light
s buzzed to life. Some turned on faster than others. The chef’s cooking tray and the knives he used were already clean. Nice guy, she thought as she washed the gunk off the plates. She scrubbed them hard and set them on a cloth to dry.

  After wiping her hands on a nearby rag, she noticed something strange about the meat locker. Slowly putting the rag down on the countertop, she neared the large metal freezer. An unfamiliar lock secured the door’s latch.

  She wondered if one of the boys switched it out, but why?

  Anna tugged on the lock. It was secure.

  Compelled by curiosity, she pulled out her lock-picking tool kit from her purse.

  36

  Scarred

  A lightning bolt struck the ocean. Torrents of rain blitzed the lighthouse.

  Nervous, Asher swallowed a glob of spit. He waited for Raven to reveal her dad was the Club Blue killer.

  Raven’s gaze fixed on the treacherous waters beyond. “If I tell you what happened, you promise you won’t freak out?”

  Asher nodded. “Yeah.”

  “Swear it,” Raven pushed.

  “Just tell me,” Asher pressured her.

  “Not until you swear.”

  “Fine, I swear. Cross my heart. Hope to die,” Asher replied hastily.

  Raven collected her words. She said, “My father brought me to the hotel a long time ago.”

  Asher’s heart raced. “And?”

  “He was trying to write his book back then, too. He’d researched a lot about Club Blue but wanted firsthand knowledge. He hoped it would be the thing that would launch his career. He bought an old typewriter to complete the book as a marketing tactic,” Raven said. “Meanwhile, I was bored out of my mind. Dad didn’t do anything but work and sleep. One night, a hidden door in the bedroom opened. I remember sitting up in the bed. The lights were out. Someone was watching.”

  “Was it your dad?” Asher asked.

  “He was sleeping in the bed next to mine. A figure entered inside. He shined a flashlight into my face. I screamed. He was quicker,” Raven said.

  Asher's palms sweated. “What are you trying to say?”

  Raven grabbed the bottom of her shirt and started to lift it.