The Mint Julep Murders

by Angie Fox

“We’ll try more windows, other doors,” Ellis said. “We’ll make this work.”

  “Right on,” I said.

  We’d figure this out.

  In the meantime, we were locked inside the asylum with a killer.

  “It’ll be okay,” I said, not convincing anybody as we formed an uneasy circle in the lobby. “There’s always a way out,” I reminded the group. Tom gave the door one last yank.

  “Until there’s not,” he said, stepping away. For the first time, I saw him truly rattled.

  9

  “Spread out,” Ellis ordered. “Let’s find an open window or door.”

  “There are two front-facing rooms on the south hall and one on the north where the safety screens are missing,” Brett volunteered.

  “I’ll try the south hall,” I said. I’d been down that way before to see Scalieri, and that was where I’d seen Nurse Claymore. Hopefully, I could run into her again.

  “We’ll take the north,” Cash insisted.

  “As soon as we calibrate our gear,” Brett crouched, digging into one of the large pockets in his cargo pants.

  “We’re not technically looking for ghosts this time,” Cash gritted out as his friend ripped a battery out of his pack, swapping it for a fresh one.

  “You’re going to pass up a shot to investigate the north hall?” Brett challenged under his breath.

  “Try to make it quick,” Ellis muttered to me as I double-checked the flashlight in my back pocket. “I’m not letting anyone else down that hallway with you.”

  Because one of them could be a killer, one that might even have an interest in wiping out the girl who found the body.

  “I’ve got this,” I said, erring on the side of unbridled optimism rather than dwelling on the fact that an unknown force was keeping us trapped inside the haunted asylum.

  And that my boyfriend wasn’t long for standing.

  I gave him a quick peck and hurried for the haunted hallway on the left side of the lobby. Just knowing I couldn’t walk out the door made me want to jump out a window.

  But I could do this. I could find us a way out.

  I pushed on the double doors I’d used to visit Scalieri, but I might as well have been trying to shove through concrete. They didn’t budge.

  “Did Barbara lock these?” I called, fumbling for her keys.

  “They should be open,” Ellis said.

  Only they weren’t.

  I tucked the flashlight under my arm and unwrapped my evidence bundle. Careful not to touch anything directly, I tried a large heavy key first.

  Only it didn’t come close to fitting in the lock.

  All right. I tried another. And another. If I wasn’t careful, I was going to get my fingerprints all over these.

  “You’re not getting through that way.” An edgy Frankie shimmered into existence next to me.

  “Stop being so negative,” I murmured, trying a tiny sad key that looked more likely to fit inside the lock than open it.

  We were running out of options.

  Frankie hit me with a blast of power that made my eyes water.

  “Son of a mother!” I bent over as the prickly cold energy filtered through me, chilling me body and soul. It was equal parts searing and discombobulating and, “You could have warned me,” I hissed through clenched teeth. “Again. And—oh, wow…”

  That was when I saw it—a ghostly glow coming from the lock itself. It shimmered in shades of eerie, iridescent silver.

  “It’s the same way on the front door,” Frankie said tightly. “And over the windows. I don’t even know how to break us out this time.”

  “Think of it as a challenge,” I told him.

  “I like it better when nobody is onto us.” He fumbled in his pocket for a cigarette and tried twice to light it before the end finally caught fire. “Seems we’ve caught the attention of the dominant ghost.”

  Maybe the ghost was nice. “Can we please try to look at the positives?”

  He blew out a breath, scanning the lobby. “I’m positive we’re trapped.”

  That wasn’t helping. “We’ll try the north hall.”

  Brett and Cash were still clustered by the stairs, arguing over gear. We’d be in and out before they could organize enough to catch up.

  “Nothing to worry about,” I chirped, crossing the back of the lobby, trying my best to reassure the group gathered at the front entrance. Tom conferred with Ellis while Joan had her hands spread, no doubt waiting to feel some tingling in her fingertips.

  “Verity—” Ellis called after me.

  “I’m fine!” I assured him.

  “You’re a bad liar,” Frankie muttered, exhaling smoke.

  “You’re not going to teach me,” I reminded him.

  The doors to the north hall lay open. Thank goodness.

  Our situation had gone from bad to worse, but it would only take one stroke of luck to free us from this place. And to help that along a bit, I backtracked to a mess of boxes containing Barbara’s tools and pulled out a big wrench.

  Frankie let out a low whistle. “Maybe you are learning something from me.”

  I hefted the tool in my hand. “This is for breaking out, not breaking in,” I reminded him.

  “Baby steps,” Frankie mused.

  I’d have preferred a hammer, but we were on a schedule here, and the wrench felt heavy in my hand, solid. It was practically begging for a window to bust through.

  “I remember seeing construction scaffolding on the north wing when we arrived,” I said, struggling to picture it. “I think I even saw the window with the missing screen now that I think about it.”

  Or perhaps it was just wishful thinking. It was hard to remember. It hadn’t seemed important at the time.

  According to Brett, the north hall had at least one window with a safety screen missing. I’d find it, open it, and we’d all climb out that way. If it was painted shut, I’d break us out. The dominant ghost couldn’t have energy-blocked every single exit. And if it had, well, maybe I could reason with it.

  “We can also look for a side door out to the yard,” Frankie supplied. “With any luck, the dominant ghost doesn’t know about every modern door and window, especially any areas that might have renovation going on.”

  “Good point.” Spirits often saw places as they had been during their lifetime, not how they were in the present.

  “Who’s she talking to?” Cash asked, catching up to us as I used both hands to shove the doors open on the north hall.

  They opened easily.

  “That’s our hall,” Brett protested. And when I turned back, I realized we’d attracted the attention of the entire group.

  “She’s a real ghost hunter,” Joan said.

  “I appreciate that you want to investigate,” I said to the men, “but you can always come back and do that. Right now, we need to find a way out of this place.”

  “As soon as we calibrate, we’re in there,” Brett warned.

  “So be it.” It didn’t change the job I had to do.

  “You will not follow her,” Ellis countered, struggling to catch up to the group with his bum leg.

  I didn’t see how he could stop them, but hopefully, I’d be out before they could calibrate their gear. And if they were the killers? Well, everybody would know they did it if I wound up dead.

  I propped the doors open behind us. The hallway glowed with a soft gray light.

  “Act casual,” the gangster said, scanning the silent north hall.

  Ghostly glows emanated from underneath several of the doors.

  “Maybe one of them can help us,” I suggested.

  “Acting casual does not mean talking to the patients,” Frankie said under his breath.

  A sigh echoed down the long hallway, followed by a low growl.

  Okay, so maybe it wouldn’t be prudent to disturb Nurse Claymore’s wards.

  “Come on,” I said, “if I remember right, the scaffolding is farther down.”

  I kept my stride
s slow and purposeful, the wrench clutched tightly in my hand.

  At least we weren’t underground. There were no dead bodies on this floor—well, none that I’d seen.

  We passed under a sputtering ghostly light overhead, my foot scattering the tinkling remains of the real bulb, which lay in pieces on the floor.

  “Whatever it is, it knows we’re here,” he warned. “The energy is getting stronger.” As he said it, the ghostly lights in the hallway flicked on one by one, burning brightly.

  The hair on my arms lifted as a wave of what felt like static electricity pulsed down the hall. “Unbelievable,” I whispered. The other side glowed in sharp relief. I could hear the man in the room next to me, quietly calling to his mother. I saw the brush strokes on the number 12 painted on his door.

  Frankie held out his hands as if an attack could come from anywhere. “This time, we’re really in trouble,” he vowed.

  “Don’t jump to conclusions,” I said as the doors to the lobby slammed closed.

  Frankie screamed like a girl. Or maybe that was me.

  Cries from the group echoed from the lobby, and I froze, shocked, not sure what to say or where to go and…ohmygosh, the locks on the north doors were now glowing, the same as the ones in the south hall.

  “We’re trapped.” Frankie clutched his head.

  “Maybe not,” I said, rushing for the doors, trying them.

  “I never should have followed you. Why did I follow you? You never know where you’re going!”

  Frankie had lost his cigarette and his hat.

  “Calm. Down,” I urged. If only because he was freaking me out. “We’re fine!” I hollered to the group, hoping I was telling the truth.

  “We are in no way, no how fine!” Frankie hollered at me. “We’re like bugs under glass.”

  “Those doors banged shut on their own.” Cash’s voice sounded from outside.

  “I saw. I saw,” Tom shot back as the hinges rattled with human efforts to open them. The locks didn’t budge. They simply glowed from the inside with an unsettling silver light.

  “They’re locked,” Ellis cursed. “How do they just lock?”

  “How did the front door lock?” I asked, my head swimming. Lord in heaven. “How did the windows lock?”

  “Verity, I want you out of there immediately,” Ellis ordered.

  Ha. “Yeah.” I ran a hand through my hair. “I want that too, but it isn’t going to happen.” Frankie was right. We were trapped.

  “I can’t take it. I wasn’t meant to be incarcerated!” The ghost disappeared, then reappeared almost instantly, his jacket rumpled, his hair mussed. “It’s not letting me go to the lobby or the stairs or anywhere. I never should have come here. I should have stayed home.”

  I was starting to agree with him.

  “We’re not going to make it back into the lobby,” I said to the group. “We’ll need to stick with the original plan and try to get outside.”

  “Be careful,” Ellis warned.

  He didn’t need to tell me twice. Still, that warning was the best he could do to keep me safe, so I accepted it with grace. “I’ll be fine,” I told him.

  “That’s what you always say before the hammer comes down,” Frankie accused, standing uncomfortably close, his fisted hands clutched to his chest.

  I couldn’t argue with that. “Let’s keep going,” I said, continuing down the hall.

  “Something’s coming for us,” Frankie gasped as leaves at the far end of the hallway stirred.

  “Maybe that means an open window,” I countered, clinging to the bright side. I forced myself to walk toward the stirring leaves. “As soon as we get out, we’ll call the police. They can secure Barbara’s body, question the suspects, and get Ellis to the hospital. Once he’s fixed up, we’ll focus on the job for Scalieri.”

  Frankie huffed. “You see now why I don’t like to go anywhere haunted with you?”

  I didn’t answer because right at that moment, a ghost took form among the swirling leaves.

  He wore a white robe. No. Make that a doctor’s coat, and poking from it, a starched collar, a necktie, and a deeply lined face with heavy black-framed glasses.

  “Stop walking,” Frankie ordered as I pressed toward the apparition. “I mean it,” the gangster urged, skirting in front of me so close I nearly ran through him.

  “Frank!” I stopped short.

  He pointed to an open doorway to my right. It lay dark. And when I shined my flashlight inside, I saw a window with no bars. And outside? Metal scaffolding.

  “You’re brilliant,” I said, so thankful I would have hugged him if ghost-to-human contact wouldn’t send us both reeling.

  “You remember you said that,” he commented, zipping ahead of me into the side room.

  I took one last look at the ghost among the leaves. He was still forming, his eyes hollow, his lower body a haze of white. “Let’s do this,” I said, ducking in after Frankie.

  “Less talking, more escaping,” the gangster urged. He reached out and his white Panama hat shimmered into existence in his hand. He tipped it onto his head as we investigated.

  The room lay empty save for a neatly made bed against a wall and a sink dripping rust. What a great place.

  “Watch my back,” I said, tossing my wrench onto the bed. It clattered to the floor because the bed wasn’t really there. Dang. Everything looked so real. I ran my hands along the top of the window. I couldn’t locate any locks or hinges, so I lifted it from the bottom.

  It didn’t budge.

  Which, okay, kind of made sense. You wouldn’t want patients opening their windows and slipping out into the yard.

  “My turn,” Frankie insisted. I stepped back out of the way and was barely clear when he shot headfirst for the glass.

  Bang!

  Frankie bounced off it like a startled bird. His hat went flying and he landed on his butt on the floor. “It’s solid!” He rubbed at a spot near his hairline, just above the bullet hole marring his forehead. “Why is it solid?”

  “Whatever it is, it’s designed to keep ghosts in,” I murmured.

  “And the living too, apparently,” Frankie said.

  But we still had one secret weapon.

  I doubted many patients—or people—had what I did. I reached through the cold, wet illusion of the hospital bed and retrieved the wrench from the floor.

  “This had better work,” Frankie said as he dazedly picked himself up off the floor, watching my every move.

  Truth be told, I was cringing inside at the thought of smashing the glass. I didn’t exactly know what I was doing, and there was a good chance I’d cut myself. Badly. But people were counting on me. I swung back and aimed.

  “Stop!” A swirling white mass formed directly in front of the window, and my wrench clattered to the floor.

  “Whoa.” I hastily retrieved my wrench as the spirit took the form of the doctor I’d seen at the end of the hall.

  So much for avoiding him.

  This time, he appeared so close and so fully I could see the slightly crooked twist of his tie and the crisp, even comb marks in his hair.

  “Calm yourself, miss,” he said, gently holding up his hands. “Property destruction is never the answer.”

  In this case, it was. “We’re trapped in here,” I explained, gripping the wrench, reluctant to take a swing at the window with him blocking it. Now that I was tuned in to the ghostly side, I’d just as likely whack him upside the head. It wouldn’t permanently hurt him, but it might earn me a set of restraints. “This is our only way out.”

  “Is this place so bad?” he clucked. Then upon further study of me, he straightened. “I’m sorry,” he said, adjusting his glasses. “At first glance, you resemble one of my patients. She’s a dear woman, but delusional and eager to wander. You don’t belong here at all.”

  “She’s not even dead yet,” Frankie supplied.

  “My name is Verity Long,” I said by way of introduction, “and I just stopped by with
my friend Frankie to visit a patient of yours.”

  “That’s very kind.” The doctor smiled gently and then glanced over his shoulder at the window, where I noticed sparkling silver bars tightly crisscrossing it. They hadn’t been there before. “I sincerely apologize for the inconvenience, but it seems we are on lockdown.”

  “But why?” I asked. “There are a lot of frightened people in your lobby right now who can’t get out.”

  “I’m sorry,” the doctor soothed. “It’s not meant to cause distress. This is a procedure to keep us all safe.”

  “Or give us a coronary,” Frankie sputtered.

  The doctor gave him an indulgent smile. “Lockdown only means no one is coming in or going out at this time.” He tilted his head. “Tell me, sir, do you always feel this kind of anxiety?”

  “No,” Frankie and I said at once.

  The last thing we needed was Frankie being admitted for a psychiatric evaluation. Once the gangster started listing all his issues, we really would be here forever.

  “How long will we be trapped inside?” I asked.

  “Not long,” he assured us. “Most likely a dear man from the third floor has gotten out of his room. He likes to wander, and we don’t want him going far.”

  Either that or the dominant ghost had it out for the living.

  The doctor consulted his clipboard. “We had a patient escape once and it was terrible.” He shook his head. “I still grieve for him.”

  “Was that patient’s name Charlie?” I asked.

  “It was. I’m sure you read about it in the papers. They made it sound as if we were too busy and didn’t care.” His lips formed a firm line. “But that couldn’t be further from the truth. I’ll regret his loss for the rest of my afterlife.” He eased his glasses off and cleaned them on his coat. “Once Nurse Claymore has ensured the safety of each patient under our care, you’ll be free to leave.”

  “Is Nurse Claymore the dominant ghost?” Frankie asked, fidgeting with his collar as if it had grown too tight.

  The doctor smiled kindly. “Not at all. I am.” His name tag read Anderson. I recognized his name, and now that I looked at him closely, I recognized his face. He looked younger than his portrait on the lobby stairs, but this was definitely Seymour Anderson. He didn’t appear menacing. Or evil. He spoke to us like a favorite uncle. “I lend Nurse Claymore my power because I trust her. And you should, too. You might be interested to know she’s a doctor.”