Something Old (Haunted Series)

by Alexie Aaron

  Something Old

  A Haunted novel by Alexie Aaron

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  ~

  Copyright 2013 – Diane L. Fitch writing as Alexie Aaron

  ALSO BY ALEXIE AARON

  HAUNTED SERIES

  in order

  The Hauntings of Cold Creek Hollow

  Ghostly Attachments

  Sand Trap

  Darker than Dark

  The Garden

  Puzzle

  Old Bones

  Things that Go Bump in the Night

  Something Old

  PEEPS LITE

  Eternal Maze 3.1

  Homecoming 3.2

  CIN FIN-LATHEN MYSTERIES

  Decomposing

  Death by Saxophone

  Discord

  This book is for those who put forth their knowledge, strength and soul into the classroom and otherwise. To the teachers and administrators who look kindly on the child in front of them and do not see a number but a person, I dedicate this book. It’s these heroes that influence us, that take our understanding of the world, and add to it knowledge. They are also sometimes the first to catch us when we fall and set our feet on solid ground again. Because teaching is more than a process, it is an art form. Bravo!

  I’d like to thank my editor Kelly who suffers over my “interesting use of commas” and bevy of homophones; Jim who sets the world aside to read; and Aaron who takes care of the things this writer neglects whilst in the muse.

  Table of Contents

  The Baker

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Chapter Twenty-five.

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-one

  Chapter Thirty-two

  Chapter Thirty-three

  Chapter Thirty-four

  Chapter Thirty-five

  Chapter Thirty-six

  Chapter Thirty-seven

  Chapter Thirty-eight

  Chapter Thirty-nine

  Chapter Forty

  Chapter Forty-one

  Alexie Aaron

  The Baker

  The brightly lit kitchen was filled with the comforting aromas of vanilla and spice. Ann sighed as she set the last batch of cupcakes on the counter. She looked over at the clock and frowned at the time. “Ten o’clock already?” Where had the time gone? Her legs ached from standing all day at the market, followed by hours of baking after supper. Ann knew she had taken on too much, but a promise was a promise. “Well, you’re not going to frost yourselves,” she said to the plump cakes as she stirred the right amount of red dye into the white frosting until a beautiful happy pink was produced.

  “Did you say something, dear?” her husband called from the family room.

  Ann walked to the doorway to answer him, “Just talking to the cupcakes.”

  “Can I help?” Denny asked, counting on her turning his offer down.

  Ann smiled at her husband of twenty years and shook her head. “Last time you frosted cupcakes, I ended up with a dozen less.”

  “I was only sampling,” he said. “You can’t be too careful with cupcakes. Speaking of sampling…”

  “Oh no, I won’t have you running around the house on a sugar high all night.”

  “We could work it off…” Denny said seductively, patting the seat of the couch beside him.

  “Can I have a rain check? My feet are aching and my back…”

  “You take on too much. We don’t even have a kid in school, yet you’re contributing to the bake sale.”

  “It’s for a good cause, and it’s a great advertisement for my wedding cakes. It’s so hard to compete with the grocery chains. The caterers think I’m too old-fashioned to use me. We can’t afford to advertise so I have to depend on word of mouth.”

  Denny listened to his wife even though he’d heard this many times before. He wished he could do more to help her, but his fledgling water softener business was presently eating up most of their savings due to a lag in new home sales. “Well, get to it. Put some cupcakes in those mouths,” he said.

  Ann smiled and walked back into the kitchen. Seconds later, her screams ripped through the house.

  Denny almost had a coronary trying to get to her. He tripped over the hassock on his way to the kitchen. He found her frozen in terror, pointing at the counter in the center of the newly renovated kitchen.

  “What, what is it? Are you okay?” he asked, wrapping a protective arm around her cold, shaking body.

  “My cupcakes,” she groaned, slipping out of his arms and sinking to the ground.

  Denny walked over and stared at the mess on the island. Each of the four dozen cupcakes had a bite taken out of it. Frosting was smeared all over the cabinet doors and on her once sparkling floor. “Okay, who’s playing a joke?” he asked opening the pantry, expecting to find a neighbor kid lurking there. “Come on out, enough is enough. You’re scaring my wife.” He opened the connecting door to the garage and looked into the darkness. It took a moment for the motion sensor to turn on the light. He saw to his relief that the garage was empty. Whoever had pulled the stunt was long gone.

  He heard Ann moan, and he rushed back into the house to her. He found her backed into a corner, huddled on the floor. Her eyes were filled with terror.

  “What? Tell me,” he pleaded.

  Ann could not get her voice to work. She managed to raise her hand and point.

  Denny turned around and gasped. The cupcakes were now stacked in a pyramid-shaped mound. He cautiously approached the counter.

  The counter vibrated, and he heard a burbling sound. The closer he got to the counter, the sound and the vibration increased. He examined the pyramid and found a hole in the center of the mound where pink frosting was forming a large iridescent bubble. He reached out to touch it.

  He felt little hands on the back of his pants. They grabbed hold and pulled him back hard, the momentum flinging him against the refrigerator. “What the hell?” he complained, fighting off the unseen hands.

  The top of the cupcake mound exploded. Hot pink frosting and melted sprinkles missed him by inches, decorating the kitchen as they landed.

  Denny and Ann heard the sound of clapping hands before the room was filled with the noise of running feet and the laughter of children. Once the disturbance stopped, all they heard was the drip drip of the melted frosting as it fell from the cupboard doors.

  The couple made their way to each other, sliding on the cooling pools of pink frosting. As they hugged, thoughts of childhood science fairs filled Denny’s mind. “How did they do that?” he asked Ann, not expecting his traumatized wife to answer.

  Ann was speechless. She just started crying.
>
  Denny sat her down in a chair. He took out his cell phone and took dozens of photos before he started to clean up. As he scrubbed and extracted plastered cupcakes from the light fixtures, he kept a wary eye on his wife. He tried to make light of the situation, but she wasn’t hearing anything. When the kitchen was clean, Ann got to her feet and began measuring out ingredients.

  “What are you doing? It’s past midnight.”

  Ann sniffed and wiped her tears on the back of her sleeve and answered him, “A promise is a promise. I’ve got four dozen cupcakes to bake and frost for the school.”

  “They’ll understand.”

  “Understand what?” she snapped. “Understand that the first set was sampled by invisible children before being used for a frosting volcano? Who is going to believe that?”

  Denny tried not to smile. He tried to be horrified by the antics of unseen hands, but he just couldn’t. “You’re right. Now how can I be of help? I’m not going into work tomorrow and neither are you. We’ll get to the bottom of this.”

  Denny and Ann worked through the night, unaware of the sets of eyes that stared at them from the window or the little fingers that made hearts on the condensation on the panes before joining with other hands and skipping through the dew-laden grass on their way back into the darkness.

  Chapter One

  “It’s a steampunk homage to an English hunt,” Ralph announced, starting his power point presentation.

  Mia sat curled up with Ted on Ralph’s sofa while images of their would-be wedding flashed on the wall. When it had finished, Mia looked at Ted and smiled.

  “It’s a spectacle,” Ted said approvingly.

  “A respectable spectacle,” Mia agreed. She looked at her anxious godfather and said, “Ralph, it’s wonderful. Do you have enough time to pull it off?”

  Relief flooded Ralph, and as he fought back the happy tears, he nodded. “I have my New York and Chicago design teams on speed dial. Mia, you’ll all have to be measured toute de suite, but it’s doable.”

  “Then give me a list of what we can do, and we’ll put it on priority,” Ted requested. “We really appreciate this, Ralph.”

  “My goddaughter doesn’t get married every day. I love a party, and after all, I’m the Man of Honor.”

  “You’ll find all the colors are guaranteed to make him look splendid, Mia. You’ll just have to get used to being outshone,” Bernard said walking into the room, carrying an uncorked bottle of champagne. “Shall we toast the Cooper Martin wedding?”

  “Oh, Mia, I never thought to ask, are you keeping your name, hyphenating, or going to jump in the deep end and become a Martin?” Ralph asked, accepting a glass of bubbly from his partner in life.

  Mia looked at Ted and said, “After meeting Ted’s family, I knew that I fitted right in. I shall be Mia Martin.”

  Ted leaned over and kissed her lightly on the lips. “Thank you. I’m going to be Theodore Cooper.”

  She looked at him and shook her head. “You big tease. We’ll be known as Ted and Mia Martin, ghost hunters extraordinaire. Or the Martins. Or those Martins.”

  “People will cross to the other side of the street when we walk down it,” Ted said proudly. “The PTA will have us on the most wanted list.”

  “I’m not sure if that’s a positive or a negative?” Ralph asked Bernard.

  “I think that with their combined talents and gene pool, the children better be homeschooled,” he said dryly.

  “Oh no, they’re not,” Ralph argued. “I have three of the most prestigious prep schools jumping at the chance…”

  “Hold on,” Mia said, getting up and taking Ralph’s drink out of his hand. The way he was waving his hands around, someone would eventually end up drenched in the expensive wine. “You’re in charge of our wedding not our lives.”

  Ralph acted hurt, but the twinkle in his eye warned them that he wasn’t about to stay out of their lives, or their future children’s lives either.

  “Where are you going on your honeymoon?” Bernard asked. “Remember you have free plane tickets as we agreed in Mia’s dowry.”

  “And Bears tickets,” Mia reminded her godparents. “The 2014 season better find our butts covering the forty-yard line.”

  “We haven’t discussed it,” Ted admitted. “Where do you go that’s not full of ghosts?”

  “Or Burt can’t spoil with a call to arms?” Mia mused.

  “I have a place in mind,” Bernard said. “While Ralph’s been fussing around with the wedding, I looked into an unusual place I heard about from a colleague. It’s late in the season, but I think I can talk the owner into making an exception.”

  Mia and Ted looked at Bernard intrigued. He pulled out a pamphlet from his briefcase, walked over and handed it to the couple.

  They looked at the images and laughed.

  “It’s perfect!” Mia said. “What do you think, Teddy Bear?”

  “I couldn’t image a better place to begin our lives together,” he said solemnly.

  “Then leave it up to me. I’m going to be the guy that knows a guy this time,” he assured them. “A bit of advice, don’t tell the boss where you’re going to be. This is your time together. No haunt is that important to interrupt a honeymoon.”

  “Unless it’s a haunted honeymoon,” Ted said.

  Mia felt a chill run up and down her arms. She prayed it was just Ralph’s insistence of maintaining his youth by living in a constant sixty-eight degrees and not a portent of the future.

  ~

  “It’s a beautiful place,” Audrey commented as she walked along the deck of Burt’s new abode. “I can’t believe Mia is renting it to you so cheap.”

  “I wish I could buy it from her outright, but my coffers aren’t up to the enterprise quite yet, and the banks aren’t willing to take a chance on a ghost hunter. Mia says, if I end up wanting the place, she will apply all the rent money towards the purchase. She’s already renamed the place Villa Hicks.”

  “How about a land contract? I’m sure Alan would give you a deal on all the paperwork.”

  Burt frowned at the sound of Alan Jefferies’s name. The successful Chicago lawyer still had his cap set for Audrey. How was Burt supposed to compete against Alan’s paycheck and good looks? Plus, Mia warned him that Dr. Walters was sniffing around his tree too.

  “I’d give you a penny for your thoughts, but the expression on your face tells me I wouldn’t like the purchase,” Audrey said, interrupting Burt’s thoughts.

  “Oh. Sorry. I’m a transparent thinker. Just some problem that has crossed my mind,” he explained.

  “Anything I can help with?”

  “No. Let’s enjoy this beautiful day. I can’t believe it says autumn on the calendar and it’s eighty degrees.”

  “Global warming or an Indian summer. Either way, enjoy it while you can. Winter’s coming…”

  “If this wasn’t northern Illinois and you weren’t a Chicagoan, I’d say you’ve been watching too much television.”

  Audrey giggled and stepped off the deck, heading towards the water. “No, I read.” She changed the subject and asked, “Have you tried fishing yet?”

  “Been kind of busy moving my stuff in and working on editing the last two haunts. We have two shows in the can, although I’d like to add something to the haunted hotel episode.”

  “Are you still searching for the fabled, floating Bed and Breakfast?”

  Burt blushed. “Mia calls it a Fata Morgana, which is catchy but not accurate. A Fata Morgana is a mirage, and this B&B has actually been stayed in. The people were fed and…”

  “Whoa, partner, I’m on your side,” Audrey said holding up her hands. “I think it falls more under urban legends. Like the inns that turn into ruins the next day…”

  “But they don’t move,” Burt argued. “This is like Howl’s Moving Castle.”

  “Hayao Miyazaki or Diana Wynne Jones?”

  “Pardon? Diana…”

  “She’s the writer of the orginal sour
ce material for Miyazaki’s film. Oh, Burt, is Cid the only one of you PEEPs that reads?” Audrey asked frustrated.

  “Mike reads,” Burt defended.

  “Romance novels,” Audrey countered.

  “Ted…”

  “Technical journals, and forget Mia, that poor miss was brought up on dusty archeological volumes. The people of the PEEPs compound watch more movies than is healthy.”

  Burt smiled. “It’s seems that way doesn’t it? Even Murphy is addicted to the television.”

  “That’s what you get for installing cable. I’m all for free airwaves myself,” Audrey said. “If I miss a show, I don’t sweat it. Nothing on the tube is that good.”

  “I think that you would have a hard time supporting that theory with the techies.”

  Audrey shook her head. Her curls bounced, and the late morning sun caught the rich auburn and set it afire.

  “You’re beautiful,” Burt blurted out.

  Audrey turned. She was blushing but managed a thank you.

  Burt walked to her and took her hands in his. “I don’t know if you realize how stunning you are. How intelligent, how…”

  “You better stop or I’ll start believing it,” Audrey warned.

  “I’m…”

  Burt’s phone sounded off. The Ghostbusters theme destroyed the mood, and he dug into his pocket frantically to shut it off. Instead he heard, “Burt, this is Cid, we’ve got one!” He reluctantly put the phone to his ear.

  “Got what?”

  “I just got a call from a Denny and Ann Seaver. They were visited by what sounds like ghost children last night. The pictures are pretty convincing.”

  “What does Ted say?”

  “He’s in the city with Mia. The Seavers live in a town southwest of here. They’re off work today and want someone to come out right away. They are willing to let us film as long as we move the little kiddies on. I can check it out, but I think it would be better if a senior investigator came along.”

  “You’re right. Hold on.” Burt looked over at Audrey and asked, “Do you have time to check out a haunted house?”