Checking Out

by Alexie Aaron

  “Is it?” Cid scoffed.

  Ted walked over and sat down and flipped through the report Burt gave. He tapped on the monitor screen and asked, “You said that the inn seemed to rest fifty yards above the ground.”

  “I thought it was an illusion meant to keep me there,” Burt explained.

  “Could be, but if it isn’t, it explains how the inn can stay in one spot for a night,” Ted pondered.

  “When I left the porch and took the second step, I should have only been around nine inches off the ground. Instead I fell quite a few feet. Not fifty yards, or I’d be dead,” Burt informed them.

  “It may move up and down in the bubble it created. It’s there right now, above us, cloaked by the top of the ley line,” Ted described.

  “What if it could move out of the segment then…” Cid started.

  “It may be able to stay here permanently. Whether it could exist out here is another matter,” Ted added.

  “How do we get it to do that? How do you reason with a building?” Burt asked but knew the answer the minute he vocalized the question. “Mia. Mia could talk to the house.”

  “But how do we tell her?” Cid asked.

  “Tell me what?” Mia asked groggily.

  Ted moved quickly to her side and began to undo the restraints he left on when they were moving the truck.

  “If this is your idea of bondage…” Mia started.

  “Hush up,” Ted ordered. “We aren’t alone.”

  Mia looked over at Cid and Burt and said, “Glad to see you in one piece, Mr. Hicks.”

  “Stop that. I can still hear that old broad in your voice. I’m thinking of changing my name,” Burt told her. “How and why are you here?”

  “That’s a long story, which I would be happy to tell you later. What we do need is to exchange information. And I need some caffeine. Anyone see Murphy?” Mia craned her neck looking for the ghost as she tried to sit up.

  A light scratch was heard on the outside of the truck. Cid moved to the door and pulled it open, letting in the cold night air. Mia saw her friend standing there, garbed once again in his work attire, smiling slyly.

  “Yeah, go ahead and smile. You got us tossed out of there with your antics,” Mia claimed.

  Ted looked over at the ghost and saw him trying to explain himself, but he gave in to Mia and put his head down, trying unsuccessfully to look contrite.

  “Maybe you two ought to tell us what happened first,” Ted advised.

  “Coffee first, then story,” Mia said.

  “Coffee the lady,” Burt demanded.

  Chapter Eight

  “We waited until we heard Mike head towards the stairs. He was using that charm of his, oozing charisma. Mrs. Brewster seemed quite taken with him. Audrey was green at the gills,” Mia reported.

  Burt seemed to be relieved. Mia watched him, noting that, with the exception of extreme exhaustion, he seemed well enough and didn’t need a visit to the ER.

  “Murph and I left our room and quietly examined the other rooms on the second floor. We saw where you were staying. Your dirty laundry folded neatly, waiting to be packed. Why do you fold your dirty laundry?”

  Burt frowned.

  Mia didn’t expect an answer and continued, “Your room held no clues so we left. There was a locked door at the end of the hall, just before the servant stairs. Murphy moved through the door and unlocked it for me. It’s very handy having a ghost as an investigative partner. Inside, we found an austere cell of some kind. It reminded me of the punishment room in the Gruber mansion. The walls had grey, fading wallpaper of a geometric design. The furniture was made of a metal similar to what you would find in an asylum. The room was clean and smelled of Windex and Spic and Span. Murphy pointed out the clothing arranged neatly in the open closet. There were suits and dresses, the kind our hostess wore. Sturdy, comfortable shoes were lined up on the floor of the closet. I knelt down to examine them. I reached out, and my hand went right through the shoe.”

  “Mirage,” Cid said.

  “Quite possibly. Anyway, my interference with the shoes caused the room’s façade to crumble. It started at the outside corner of the house and fell away in strips. As each strip fell from the wall, another façade appeared. This time the room was full of summer flowers, and the bed was covered in a hand embroidered coverlet. I turned around, and the closet was full of clothes. Quite a few dresses were falling off the hangers. The shoes looked as if they were kicked off in a hurry. It was a happy room.”

  “Two Mrs. Brewsters,” Murphy said from the corner of the truck. He stood well away from Ted’s computers, not wanting to fry anymore monitors with his magnetic chemistry.

  “What he means is, two sides to the same woman. We all have a dark side,” Mia explained. “Mine is full of insecurities,” she admitted. Brushing away the negative thought as if it were an errant lock of hair, Mia continued, “The more we thought about it, the more the room was telling us something. Mrs. Brewster’s mercurial personality, austere-cold one moment and warm-inviting the next, had infested the inn itself.”

  “The winter and summer landscapes. I thought it may be fighting between the time it was created and the present time,” Burt admitted.

  “You still could be right,” Mia said. “But we didn’t know enough at that time.”

  “How long did it take you to pick up that the inn itself was alive?” Ted asked.

  Mia smiled, pleased that the science boys had come to the same conclusion she and Murphy had. “It’s not exactly alive,” she corrected. “It exists and thrives in the structure of the ley line, but the inn is dead, as are the two women serving in it.”

  “So the building…”

  “Is a ghost,” Mia said simply. “A thinking and very powerful ghost, but a ghost just the same.”

  “Like the ghost ships?” Cid asked.

  “I’ve not been on a ghost ship, but I expect they have similar characteristics,” Mia said evenly. “They travel, are seen by travelers and can provide minimal shelter. They can’t, however, sustain life. If you found yourself on the famed Flying Dutchman, you wouldn’t drown, but you would starve. Your body would still show signs of sun, sea and salt, but you wouldn’t feel that you were dying,” she explained. “This is what was happening to you, Burt.”

  “The other guests…”

  “They only stayed the night. No doubt, if we were to interview them, we would find that they were strangely hungry as they continued their journey, despite the sumptuous breakfast they ate before leaving the inn. How are you feeling by the way?” Mia asked Burt.

  “Tired and cold. The guys fed me, but I’d really like to have a steak.”

  “Did you check in Ted’s drawer marked rewards?” Mia asked.

  “That’s where he keeps Maggie’s bones,” Burt said glumly. “I looked.”

  Mia laughed. “We’ll get you your steak as soon as we get this mess straightened out.”

  “What happened in the room?” Cid prodded.

  “Oh, yes, of course, the room,” Mia said, thinking a moment. “Not much else. We left the room and sought out the back stairs.”

  “I didn’t know there was another set of stairs,” Burt admitted.

  “In a house that size and age there would be servant stairs,” Mia informed him. “They are hidden, but they are there. We found the inn’s set across the hall from Mrs. Brewster’s room. We walked through a doorway to find ourselves on a landing that joined two sets of staircases. We didn’t want to invade the first floor just yet so we climbed the attic stairs. There we found a semi-floored attic that ran the width of the inn. Old furniture and cedar chests and trunks lined the walls. It was clean, free of rodents and insects. The trunks were unlocked, and I opened a few. I found old clothing and a lot of lace doilies. I was just about ready to abandon my snooping when Murphy opened the next chest. Inside we found your backpack, Burt. I pulled it out, and underneath there were bits and bobs from other guests, I imagine. Nothing valuable like jewelry, but th
e hostess seems to have a penchant for looting the bags of the guests, extracting sharp things like knitting needles, nail files, penknives and even a seam ripper.”

  “Why?” Burt asked.

  “I don’t know, but I would hazard a guess that she took away anything that could hurt the inn? Scratch the furniture or poke holes in the surly hostess?” Mia mused, looking at Murphy for his reaction. He held firmly to his axe. “Oh, that reminds me, she wasn’t too thrilled about Murphy’s axe until I told her it was a family heirloom.”

  “Self-preservation,” Ted said. He handed Mia a refill of his special brew of coffee and chemicals. “If the hostess and the inn think they are alive then perhaps they don’t want to be hurt in any way. Perhaps they thought Burt and his gear bag of cameras and devices could destroy the mirage, lift the curtain, so to speak, and perhaps damage the reputation of the inn. Instead of being seen as a godsend…”

  “It could be seen as a prison. A trap,” Burt said, rubbing his arms. “I don’t know when I ceased to be a guest and became a prisoner, but it wasn’t a pleasant feeling,” he admitted.

  “I wonder if it tried to keep anyone else?” Cid asked.

  “There weren’t any other spirits that Murphy or I could detect. But it doesn’t mean the inn didn’t try and was unsuccessful. We may find a charnel house of bones when the mask is whisked away,” Mia said.

  “Ten points Slytherin and a Bella Lugosi award!” Ted announced. “You may be my love, but you’re creeping me out,” he complained.

  “And you call yourself a ghost hunter,” Mia scoffed. She looked at Burt and at Cid. She saw their pale complexions and thought she may have gone a bit too far.

  Murphy mouthed, “Wimps.”

  “What happened next?” Cid asked.

  “We decided to venture down the stairs which brought us just outside the kitchen. We faced an exterior door, a prep room of some kind. There were deep sinks and herbs hanging from a clothesline. We heard two people talking in the kitchen and stayed out of sight until we determined that they were Millie and Paul. We walked in. Paul seemed happy to see us there. Millie was put out and told us, ‘No guests in the kitchen!’ We nodded and walked through and exited into the dining room where we found Mike having a spirited conversation with Mrs. Brewster while Audrey took covert photos and readings of the room.”

  “Our Mike’s a charmer,” Cid said. “He could charm a sheet off a ghost.”

  CRACK!

  “Sorry, dude, just a saying. No offence intended.”

  Murphy seemed appeased so Mia continued, “We moved quietly through the room and almost made it, had my partner in crime not stopped to admire the Birdseye Maple paneling. ‘What are you two doing out of your room?’ Mrs. Brewster bellowed. I told her, ‘We aren’t errant children. We are guests of this establishment and should be treated as such.’ She countered that since she owned the establishment she would determine how we were treated and whether we would continue to enjoy her hospitality. That’s when Murphy got us kicked out.”

  “How?” Ted asked surprised.

  “He took his axe and dragged it along the cherry dining table, cutting a deep gash into the wood.”

  “You didn’t!” Burt gasped.

  Murphy smiled wide, showing how proud he was of his actions.

  “He not only did that but cleaved an end table in two for good measure,” Mia reported. “Mrs. Brewster picked up a chair and threw it at us, nearly decapitating Audrey in the process. ‘Get out, get out!’ she screamed. The floor of the inn started buckling under us as we ran for the front door. It flew open, and we escaped by diving off the porch before the witch made the lobby. The funny thing was, we landed in a field of summer wheat. I was so surprised that I got up and backed out of the ley line, pulling Murphy after me.”

  The three investigators looked from Mia to Murphy and back again speechless.

  “We did, however, bring you back a souvenir. Show them Murphy,” Mia instructed.

  Murphy walked to the end of the truck and jumped off. He returned quickly, pushing Burt’s backpack before him. Burt and Cid only saw the backpack float out of the darkness of the night, land on the truck bed and move towards them.

  Burt walked over and tried to pick it up. “Either I’ve lost a lot of muscle or the pack is much heavier than I remembered,” he said as he struggled to get it to the console table. Ted managed to move the keyboard just in time as Burt lost hold and the pack fell on the table, spilling the contents out on the surface.

  “We brought back the other items in the cedar chest. Figured that perhaps we could locate a few of the owners…” Mia led.

  “And perhaps they would tell their story on camera,” Burt murmured. He looked over at Mia happily. “Bravo! You two are A number one investigators.” He walked over and hugged Mia and requested, “Point me to that rascal.” Mia did, and Burt held out his hand to Murphy. “A job well done, sir.”

  Murphy reached out with a solid hand and shook Burt’s.

  “Of course some of the booty could belong to corpses,” Mia hissed in Ted’s ear as she passed by him.

  He turned around and shook his finger at her.

  Chapter Nine

  Mike and Audrey followed Mrs. Brewster into the lobby. They were amazed by the rage their hostess displayed. Sure, they understood it, but the depth of the hatred was unnerving.

  “Never in all my years of inn keeping have I had an incident like this,” Mrs. Brewster claimed, shutting the door firmly, but not before Audrey caught sight of fireflies.

  Audrey walked towards the windows of the parlor but found the curtains had been closed to the night. To open them to look out could possibly alert Mrs. Brewster that they weren’t just guests to be entertained.

  “I’m sure, Amelia, that’s the last we’ll see of those two,” Mike said, trying to calm the woman before she turned on them.

  “It’s been such an unsettling few days,” their hostess admitted. “First Mr. Hicks and all his snooping around, and then the Murphys…”

  “Mr. Hicks?” Audrey asked. “I don’t believe we’ve met this gentleman yet.”

  “He’s been asked to stay in his room. Can’t have him stealing the silver while we sleep now can we?” Mrs. Brewster said crisply.

  “Speaking of sleep, I think I’ll head upstairs. Coming, dear?” Audrey asked Mike.

  “I’ll follow you up soon. I think I should wait down here a few minutes just to make sure we’ve seen the last of the Murphys.”

  This brought a softening of Mrs. Brewster. Audrey was amazed to see the stout battle-axe once again become Amelia. Mike sure had a way with women, alive and dead.

  “Okay, but don’t be too long. We have to make an early start,” Audrey said. “Mrs. Brewster, thank you for your hospitality. Would it cause an inconvenience if we left at eight?”

  “Oh no, dear, we’re prepared for early risers.”

  “Good night,” Audrey said. She walked to the stairs, and as her back was to them, she turned on the mini camera she had concealed in the clutch purse she brought with her. She would continue to film until the battery ran out.

  Mike took a seat just inside the front parlor. “Amelia, you wouldn’t have a little tipple around would you?”

  “I’m normally a teetotaler, but I do keep some cherry cordial for medicinal purposes. Calms the nerves,” she said blushing.

  “I’d love some, if it wouldn’t be too much trouble,” Mike said, his words as sweet and potent as the aforementioned beverage.

  Upstairs, Audrey went about the business of investigating. She took readings of the room she and Mike were assigned. She noticed that the closer she got to the outside walls of the room, the stronger the magnetic field was. She pulled on a flannel gown over the long underwear Mia insisted she bring and went about the masquerade of getting ready for bed. Audrey pulled on a warm housecoat and slid her stocking feet into the warm fuzzy slippers her mother gave her for Christmas. She left their suite and did a sweep of the hall, taking readings
. She had taken the precaution of having a hot water bottle to hand if anyone asked why she was walking around. She would claim she didn’t want to bother anyone and was looking for a less than public way down to the kitchen. Inside the pockets of her robe she had a small arsenal of recording devices.

  The hall was quiet. Audrey moved in and out of the rooms gathering evidence. She found only one door locked to her. Not having the ability to unlock it quickly, she left that room for later. Instead, she took the back stairs. She wanted to go into the attic but felt explaining why she had gone up instead of down to Mrs. Brewster was beyond her acting abilities. Perhaps, on the way back to her room she would pass by the second floor landing in error...

  “I can’t just leave her,” Millie insisted. “She’ll be all alone and…”

  “You’re my wife, and I want us to be together. If you loved your job, then I would spend eternity here with you, but it’s plain to see that you hate it here,” Paul said.

  “I do hate it here,” Millie admitted. “It was only supposed to be temporary until mother retired or took on a partner.”

  “That never happened. She’s too used to depending on you. Look at tonight, it was supposed to be our anniversary celebration, and she asked you to stay the night because she’s got a few guests. It’s time for her to retire or learn to stand on her own.”

  “If what you say is true about the Dew Drop Inn being a ghost hotel and we are all dead, then it really doesn’t matter if I stay or not,” Millie said sadly.

  “It matters to me!” Mrs. Brewster bellowed from the doorway. “How can you desert me, you ungrateful child. After all the money your father and I spent on educating you.”

  “Mother Brewster,” Paul started to say.

  “Don’t you Mother Brewster me, you disruptor. Get out!”

  “I’m not leaving without Millie,” Paul insisted. “She and I are leaving in the morning after your guests have been fed. You’ll have plenty of time to find someone else to take her place.”