The Mint Julep Murders Read online

  Joan eyed me as we followed her husband into the old stairwell. “He thinks Barbara’s full of baloney and this is just a game.”

  “I do believe in keeping my wife happy,” he commented over his shoulder, his shoes scraping the concrete stairs.

  Our flashlight beams formed perfect ovals on the floor ahead as the door to the stairwell creaked closed behind us. It smelled like wet leaves and rusted metal.

  Joan kept pace next to me as we began climbing. “I think it’s fabulous,” she continued. “I’ve always wanted to own a haunted property.”

  “Maybe find one that’s not falling apart,” I cautioned, the sharp edges of peeling paint flaking off against my hand as I gripped the cold metal banister.

  “Oh, I’m looking for a project, something I can make my own.” Joan blew out a breath. “If Barbara misses one more payment, the bank gets this place, and then it’s ours.”

  “What?” I asked, nearly stumbling a step.

  “Joan!” Tom stood on the landing and directed a bright beam down onto the steps between us like an interrogation light. “That’s our business, not anyone else’s.”

  “Or,” she countered, “it’s a stroke of luck I could get the ghost hunter alone to ask about it.” She stepped up next to her husband on the landing. “How else am I going to learn if Mint Julep Manor is truly haunted?” She directed a scowl down at me. “I think half the things Barbara tells me are made up.”

  “More than half,” I said.

  “It seems the only real ghost is the one you brought along,” Joan grumbled.

  “And I’ll be taking him with me when I leave,” I added. Soon, if I had my way.

  I eased off the stairs and onto the tiny landing. “Does Barbara know you want to buy this place?” I asked. Not that I had any loyalty to that gold digger, but Barbara had poured her dark heart and somewhat shriveled soul into this place. At the same time, I didn’t like the way Tom and Joan seemed to be scheming behind her back.

  “Barbara is as clueless as they come,” Tom said, the beam of his flashlight trained on my chest. He was watching me carefully. “She didn’t even ask us why we wanted to spend a grand a night.”

  “Why do you, then?” I asked. It seemed they already knew they wanted to purchase the property.

  “None of your business.” He opened the door to the third floor. “Now, after you…”

  Well, okay.

  I went first. “I’m sorry Barbara lied,” I said. And too bad I’d have to tell a few more fibs if I wanted to protect the residents up here.

  The hallway loomed dark and perfectly still.

  Then I saw it—a faint gray glow from underneath the first door to my right. A ghostly light.

  “I’m going to check this one out,” I whispered, nearing the door. “Please stand back…for your own safety.”

  I grasped the chilly handle, turned the knob. It was locked.

  “Want Tom to try to break down the door?” Joan asked.

  “No.” The ghost inside that room had managed to find a bit of privacy, and we’d keep it that way. “It feels empty,” I said, coaxing her away.

  “I don’t know,” Joan said, “it sure gives me the creeps.”

  We tried the next door, and it opened.

  This one was occupied as well.

  The glowing ghost of a young woman crouched over a desk at the window, writing. She wore a simple bun and a black gown with lace at the neck.

  “This one’s empty too,” I said.

  Joan deflated. “A thousand dollars a night.” She turned to her husband. “Verity’s right. I don’t feel any spark of ghostly energy in my fingertips or my toes.”

  “Let me see if I can help,” I said, ducking into the room. “Excuse me. I need to be alone for a minute…to see if I can connect with the spirits.”

  “Oh, that’s a good plan,” Joan gushed as I closed her out of the room.

  Rain pelted the glass and streamed down in rivulets to the bare windowsill. The ghost’s fountain pen scratched against the paper as she worked at a furious pace, not seeming to notice the storm raging outside, or me behind her.

  Maybe this young woman could help me understand what was happening on this floor, and which room Barbara’s guests could use without disturbing the patients.

  In fact, she didn’t even seem like a patient, with her black dress, her focused demeanor, and her hard grip on her pen.

  “Excuse me,” I said gently, near enough that I could see what she was scribbling so furiously.

  It’s not my fault.

  It’s not my fault.

  Oh my.

  “I’m so sorry to disturb you,” I said, “but I have a question—”

  She looked up in shock, her face a mask of horror and surprise.

  “I didn’t mean to startle you,” I managed as she disappeared, quick as the snuffing of a candle.

  Yet the scratching continued.

  I looked down to the glowing, ghostly parchment she’d left behind, to the fountain pen still scribbling hard, tight lines across the page.

  It’s not my fault.

  “Okaaaay,” I said, backing away.

  “So did you connect with any spirits?” Joan asked breathlessly from the open door.

  “I don’t think this floor is haunted at all,” I said, closing the wooden door on the pen still moving across the page.

  “Now what are we going to do all night?” Joan sighed as we skirted a rotting mattress in the hallway. Rusted springs clawed up from tattered cotton.

  “We can find you a haunted vacation house,” Tom coaxed, his light examining some pretty plaster molding near the ceiling.

  “But you said you like this place,” she said resentfully.

  “It has good bones,” he stated. “I can still use it.”

  Darn it. So much for turning Tom away. “What do you want to do with an old asylum?” It baffled me why anyone would want to spend more than an hour here, much less the night.

  Joan let her husband wander ahead of us down the hall before pulling me closer. “Tonight, we want to get a feel for the property. Tom runs a renovation company. We’re going to take measurements, make an estimate on what it’s worth and what it would take to fix it up.”

  “And then what?” I pressed. “Another haunted house?”

  Joan laughed. “Hardly. We’d like to turn it into a high-end hotel and spa—premier treatments, a place to get away from it all. We’re only an hour or two south of Nashville. The city of Jackson even has an airport. Besides that, have you seen the architecture? The bones of this place are stunning. And we wouldn’t even have to alter the layout much. Those examination rooms on the second floor would make perfect mini-suites.”

  “Very relaxing,” I said, “once you get rid of the straps on the beds.”

  She didn’t take the hint. “We’d also move the dead bushes out back and put in a pool overlooking the trees in the valley,” she added. “It’ll be pretty.”

  I’d take her word for it.

  “I can’t recommend it,” I told her honestly. “I’m not sure if you’re from around here, but this place has a bad reputation. Lots of stories.”

  She waved a hand. “All old buildings have history,” Joan said. “It’s one of the things that make them so interesting. And, besides, once people see this property fixed up, we won’t be able to keep them away.”

  Great.

  Tom made his way back to us. “If Barbara finds out about our plans to buy, we’ll know exactly who told her.”

  I didn’t like his tone. “Is that a threat?”

  “No,” he said, surprised. “I get things done, but not that way.”

  Sakes alive. I’d dealt with too many shady types lately. I was touchy.

  “Look.” I held up my hands. “I’m just trying to find you a good place to spend the night.” I might not be able to turn them off the asylum, but I could at least find a room where the overnight tourists could go while Barbara still ran the place. Which, from what t
hese two were saying, might not be long.

  I entered the next dark cell, very aware of the Burowskis behind me.

  It was similar to the room that had held the young woman, only this one had no desk in front of the window. Just a rotting bed in the corner.

  It wasn’t haunted.

  “You two should stay in here,” I said, moving to the window.

  The storm outside shook the glass. Hail clanged against the windows, rain came down in sheets, and I could barely see the security lights on the chain-link fence at the edge of the property.

  But as my eyes adjusted, I saw the swelling creek as it crested just below the bridge off the property. Dread punched me in the gut. Once the creek breached its banks, we were stuck.

  “I have to go.” I turned to leave.

  “Wait.” Joan grabbed my arm. “This is a haunted room? Do you feel the ghosts in your toes? Because I think I might.”

  “Oh, they’re in my toes and my fingers. My eyebrows feel a little tingly,” I said, trying to unclasp her.

  “Yes?” she asked, touching her fingers to her eyebrow.

  “This may be the only haunted room,” I said, encouraging her to place both hands on her head.

  “Yes!” She rubbed her eyebrows. “Yes. I feel it!”

  “Now, I have to go.” My flashlight beam trained straight ahead as I made my way out. It was harder to see in here with no ghostly glows, but I wasn’t about to tell her that.

  “Wait!” Joan called, following me. “Which ghosts am I seeing?”

  “Just one,” I said, making it up. One was about all I could handle. “There’s a very handsome ghost named Rodger.” She nodded enthusiastically, massaging her brows. “I don’t have a last name.” Because I was terrible at lying. “He’s a former butler in a five-star hotel. I think you should make friends.”

  I skirted a ruined mattress out in the hall.

  “How?” Joan called after me, nearly thwacking her elbow on the doorframe as she tried to follow me with her hands still on her head.

  “Sit in there and talk,” I said, making my way toward the glow coming from under the door near the stairwell. “Tell him your hopes and dreams. Just stay away from those other rooms we saw, or he’ll stop listening to you.”

  “Why?” Joan pleaded.

  “Because there is no such thing as ghosts,” Tom remarked.

  “Because Rodger is very needy. Matter of fact, Tom will have to stay in the room with you,” I said, opening up the door to the stairwell. “Or Rodger might feel deserted and leave this place all together.”

  Joan gasped. “Then we’ll never get him back!”

  “Exactly.” I hated to spin such nonsense, but it was for everyone’s good.

  It also bothered me on about ten different levels that Ellis hadn’t already rushed up here to tell me about the swelling creek. What could be going on down there to distract him?

  That went for Frankie, too. I’d better not make it down to my car and find Scalieri sitting in the passenger seat.

  “I’ve got to go. Have a great night! Bye!”

  I raced down the stairwell and through the darkened second floor. I was almost to the main staircase when I heard shouts from below.

  7

  The sconces along the staircase surged brighter as the light at the top of the stairs shattered. Stained glass and bulb shards blew outward, and I let out a yelp, halting at the top of the landing. “What’s happening?”

  Whatever it was, I didn’t want to be alone anymore. I raced down the stairs, careful not to slip on the glass and avoiding the largest shards.

  “Power surge,” Barbara hollered. “Duck!”

  I did. I heard a crash, and then we were plunged into darkness.

  Cripes. I halted my free-for-all run, gripping the banister as I spun sideways. I was near the haunted painting, or at least the one that couldn’t seem to stay on the wall. It wasn’t far to the main level from here, but that didn’t mean it was smart to run willy-nilly down the stairs in the dark.

  “Verity!” Ellis called from below.

  “I’m here,” I assured him. “I’m fine,” I added optimistically. I gripped the banister, my fingernails sinking into the layers upon layers of varnish. I dug the flashlight out of my back pocket and clicked it on. “I’m just going to take it slow.”

  Lightning flashed, and I saw the outline of Barbara at the front window, cupping her hands around her face, looking hard outside. “I think we took a lightning strike to the power box,” she warned.

  Wow. Okay. Well, if we’d lost all power, then at least there would be no more surges to blow up the remaining lights. That was a positive.

  The sound of torrential rain had replaced the pounding hail.

  I’d take that as well.

  “Let’s get out of here,” I said, making my way down slowly despite my shaking hands. “I’ll go back for Joan and Tom. We’ll get everyone out to my car. Barbara, I can take you home, and I’ll drive the rest of us to a hotel.”

  “The creek is over the bridge,” Ellis said stonily, his voice echoing off the marble as he worked his way across the lobby toward me.

  “Are you all right?” I tried to speed up, but my legs felt like jelly.

  He met me at the bottom of the stairs. “I wanted to get out before the creek cut us off. I went upstairs to look for you, but I ran into something on the second floor and went down hard.”

  I took his hand. His skin felt clammy and he wavered on his feet. “What was it?”

  “I didn’t see,” he said, frustration lingering in his voice. “Whatever it was, it came out of nowhere and took me down.” He half-sat, half-collapsed on the bottom step, and I joined him. “It chased me out,” he added flatly as if he didn’t even want to admit it.

  “It…happens.”

  “Not to me,” he countered.

  True. I rubbed his back and felt a cold sweat. He was shaken. I’d never seen him this way. “It’ll be okay.”

  “Of course it will,” he said, a little too quickly. “I know that.” He ran a hand along my back in return, and I tried to take comfort in the contact, but I was scared. A ghost had never physically interacted with Ellis before. Sure, he’d seen me dodging them. And they’d attacked his car. But this was different. A little more personal.

  “I took a second to recover,” he said, lingering over the words, trying to piece it together, “and when I looked to see what got me, it was like I’d tripped over nothing.”

  “Maybe you collided with an old chair or mattress,” I said, hoping I was right. The hallways were cluttered with junk.

  “I didn’t see anything.” He sighed.

  “Let me have a look.” I trained the beam of my flashlight onto his leg. Streaks of blood stained his jeans. Worse, he was breathing shallowly, and his color was off. “Oh, my gosh, Ellis. You don’t look so good.”

  “Thanks,” he said, running a hand through his short dark hair, shooting me a choppy grin. “You know how to make a guy feel special.”

  I knew how to run one through the wringer was more like it.

  Barbara clicked her light on, the beam cutting through the darkness as she strolled toward us. “Show her the rest,” she urged, with a little too much enthusiasm for my taste.

  Ellis lost the grin. He eased up his jeans and I gasped. It looked like he’d run up against a dozen razor blades. The slices were deep, random, and scary as heck. Several of them still bled.

  “Let me bandage you up,” I said, trying to think of what I could use. I was wearing white jean shorts and a sleeveless lace shirt, which didn’t leave me much fabric to work with. I didn’t even wear socks with my Keds.

  “I already found him a crutch,” Barbara said, “from the Doctor of Doom display.”

  “Lovely,” I told her. At least her props were good for something.

  “I don’t need it,” Ellis insisted. “Much,” he added. “It’s just weird because what I hit felt more hard than sharp.”

  A bruise had a
lready bloomed on his shin.

  “Is it broken?” I asked, reaching down to check.

  “It’s not.” He gently moved my hand aside. “Just bad luck.”

  “Okay,” I said, snuggling up next to him, trying to comfort him the best way I knew how. “Let’s think of our options.”

  We were trapped in the asylum with ghosts, real estate investors, and the force of nature that was Barbara.

  The place wasn’t safe. “Maybe we need to get the Burowskis downstairs.” If something had gone after Ellis, I didn’t want it gunning for them.

  “The Burowskis are fine.” Barbara screwed up her nose. “They’re getting what they paid for.”

  “You left them somewhere safe?” Ellis confirmed.

  “I did,” I said. Maybe they were better off on the third floor. I hadn’t encountered anything particularly terrible up there. Then again, I hadn’t tangled with Ellis’s attacker outside the exam rooms, either.

  “We need to get the power back on,” Barbara said, ever practical. “Luckily for us, I have a generator. It’s ancient and I could use some help getting to it,” she added, giving Ellis the once-over, “but once we have it going, I can book out to the trailer and get the mobile hotspot up and running again. That’ll give us phones and internet.”

  “Sounds like a plan,” I said, standing. “After that, we’ll call the fire department. Hopefully, they can get us across that bridge.” And give Ellis and me a ride to the urgent care to check out that leg. I didn’t like that he wasn’t putting weight on it.

  I’d grab Frankie’s urn out of my car along the way.

  “One more thing.” Barbara dug out her cell phone and snapped a picture of Ellis’s leg. She grinned. “While you call in the cavalry, I’ll call my graphics guy and have him work up a bright yellow sticker to put on all our billboards. Warning: ghosts may bite.”

  “Those aren’t teeth marks,” I countered.

  “They could be,” Barbara shot back. “It depends on the shape of the teeth.”

  “You have no idea if it was a ghost,” Ellis said, attempting to stand quickly but getting tangled in his crutch.