Soft piano music played in the dimly lit room. The wooden wall panels and bar shared the same lavish tint. Justin lagged behind. His non-expressive gaze gravitated to the glass cabinet behind the counter. Hundreds of types of liquors, wines, and spirits stood on the smooth shelves.
“As you can see, we have no bartender,” the concierge said. “Every drink is made to order by yours truly.”
“You wear many hats,” Anna complimented.
“Just like Mr. Blanc. He set the example of excellence for all who have followed. When you’re ready, I’ll show you the billiard room.”
Asher mumbled to Justin. “He sure does like to use the word excellence.”
“Shut up, homo,” Justin mumbled back and walked ahead of him.
Asher followed after. “Takes one to know one.”
Justin set his jaw in annoyance.
Asher chuckled.
Anna looked over her shoulder and glared at them both. She mouthed, “Enough.”
Asher pointed his finger at Justin. Anna was aware of her youngest’s antics. He’d scream the loudest when something went wrong, but he conveniently left out the part where he goaded Justin.
Double doors at the back of the bar opened to the billiards room. Anna could imagine Depression-era businessmen and ladies gathering in the hazy room. The space was tidy and clean, with seven billiard tables and a rack of cues and triangles.
The concierge said, “Patrons have access to the pool room as long as the bar is open.”
Asher and Justin traded smirks. Their competitive spirits sparked.
The concierge took them to the massive kitchen next. It was fit for a hotel two times the size.
“Wow.” Anna’s voice carried through the room. “You can feed a small country from in here.”
The concierge replied, “Yes, Mr. Blanc would host some of the finest chefs from around the world and wanted to provide them adequate space. Also, large banquets were commonly held in the ballroom.”
“You don’t have them anymore?” Anna asked.
The concierge’s smile wavered. “Not many, I’m afraid.”
He took them to the meat locker and used a key on his ring to open the lock. They looked into the rectangular room as if peering down a corridor. Two lines of meat hooks dangled from the ceiling. A large counter and sink were flush against the right wall. Anna felt a cold chill.
“Though we no longer serve food at Club Blue, the inspection report cleared with flying colors and the freezer is usable. Just for you, of course. This entire area is only accessible by the staff,” explained the concierge.
He took them out of the kitchen and into the ballroom. Circular tables with white chairs formed a U around the dance floor. An imperial staircase led up to a wrap-around mezzanine balcony on the second floor. The steps were made of green stone. An interesting array of geometric patterns were etched into the wall’s upper trim. Hand-painted art occupied the hexagonal frames inlaid on the ceiling. The paintings depicted angels, clouds, blue skies, and ladders. A massive chandelier hung at the center. The light at the center of the chandelier was the shape of a giant beehive, three feet tall and two feet wide.
Just like the first time she saw it, Anna was in awe. The ballroom alone was worth the purchase. She pulled at Asher’s sleeve. “This place was popping in the ‘20s. Dancing, champagne, and live music. While the rest of the nation was experiencing Prohibition, here the police chiefs, business moguls, and wealthy heiresses partied until sunrise.”
The concierge smiled nostalgically. “Indeed.”
To Anna, it was the coolest thing in the world. The boys were still thinking about the billiard room.
The concierge led the three of them through an unmarked passage and into a two-lane bowling alley.
“Sweet,” Asher said.
The concierge explained that the bowling lanes were updated in the late 1980s with “cosmic lights and sounds,” though the concierge tried to keep it close as he could to the original design.
On the opposite side of the ballroom was a similar corridor leading to the gym. It had mirrored walls, free weights, and treadmills below mounted TVs.
They returned to the lobby. The elevator only had buttons for the basement and first three floors. They went to the second floor. Suites 201-215 were standard. Suite 216, 217, 218 were the owner’s suites. The concierge showed them a standard room and then his own. His suite had a king-sized bed, an elegantly-furnished living room, a mini-kitchen, and a large window that overlooked the woods below. Some of the rooms had different designs and layouts. The concierge described Marco as an artist. He wasn’t content with making just another motel. He wanted the motel. Every time you stayed, you’d get a different experience, but a welcoming one. He took them to the third floor. It consisted only of suites. There were thirty-three usable suites through the hotel.
“Forty-four,” the concierge clarified. “If you count the fourth floor.”
Justin took off his headphones. “What’s up there? Why isn’t there a button for it in the elevator?”
“It’s been closed off since the fire in 1962,” the concierge explained. “I’m sure you’d like to see it, though.”
He took them up the stairwell and to the locked door. He drew out an older key not on the ring, twisted it in the lock, and pulled the door open with a creeeeaaak. With no artificial lights, the corridor was a black tunnel. Scorch marks tarnished the floors and broken walls. The hallway groaned as the wind struck the hotel.
Asher took a step forward. Anna grabbed his shoulder and pulled him back. “It’s not safe.”
Having a pensive expression, the concierge observed the darkness. “The fire damage was contained to the fourth floor only. None of the electric or plumbing damage affected the lower floors.”
Justin said, “It’s a waste not to rebuild it.”
“It wasn’t my place to do that,” the concierge replied.
He shut the door, locked it, and returned downstairs. Anna followed.
Justin and Asher traded looks. Something was up with this guy.
They saw the basement next. Massive industrial washers and dryers occupied the laundry room. Steam stumbled out of the boiler room nearby. The rest of the basement was open storage.
Lastly, the concierge led them down a small hallway behind the front counter. They entered into the spacious office. It had a fine wooden mantel, a bookshelf holding old books, a lounge chair, a globe, and other knickknacks on the desk. “This was Mr. Blanc’s personal workspace. I’ve worked for many years to maintain his aesthetic, and even more time managing the hotel from here.”
Anna said, “I say we get down to business. You still asking the same price?”
The concierge took a seat at his desk. “It’s lowered.”
Anna stayed standing. “To what?”
“Six.”
Anna hid her surprise. The hotel was eight million previously, fully furnished. That was already a steal. Anna played along. “I see. Is it because of the damaged fourth floor?”
The concierge pinched the bridge of his nose. He sighed and turned his bloodshot eyes to Anna. “I’ve been here for a long time, Ms. Hall. I’m tired. I want to rest.”
The price was tempting. She’d reviewed the inspection reports during her last visit. Everything was up to code. All but the fourth floor. She’d have to rebuild that part from the ground up. Having the extra living quarters could turn a nice profit.
Like the concierge, she’d aim to maintain the integrity of the original design, but would need a fresh spin to market it. Currently, there were no advertisements to promote the hotel or any effort on the concierge’s side to sell the four-acre property. Anna had heard about it from a realtor eight months ago. The concierge expressly told her only to promote it by word of mouth. That was a huge red flag. A property like this was worth fifteen million at least. Why was he selling so low? How stupid would she be to turn down that price?
“Mom, you’re not serious about this, are you?
” Asher asked.
Anna told the concierge. “One moment.”
Anna and her boys stepped out of the office.
Asher asked, “I thought you said we were just checking out the place?”
“We are, but this deal is too good to pass up.”
“What’s so bad about our home?” Asher complained.
Justin said, “We’re moving, idiot. Get over it.”
“But Brandon, Dillan, and I were going to start high school together,” Asher complained.
Justin replied, “Forget them. They’re all faggots anyway.”
Asher lowered his head and mumbled, “Shut up.”
Anna said softly, “Yeah, we’d have to find you two a new school. That’s okay. Change is good.”
“Where are we going to live? Are we getting a new house? Are we going to have to buy that too?” Asher asked.
“Nope. We’ll be staying here,” Anna replied.
Justin scoffed and shook his head.
Asher looked disgusted. “Have you seen this place? It’s terrifying. There’s probably some frigging pedo hideout or something.”
Anna couldn’t hide her shock. “Pedo-what?”
“Yeah!” Asher doubled down. “Where are all the people, huh? If it was a normal hotel, there would be people walking around. Families. I’ve not heard anyone since we got here.”
“Mr. Ferguson showed me the financial records on my last visit. The place had a rough couple of years,” Anna admitted. “But that doesn’t mean things can’t turn around. It just needs a little love. Besides, each of you will get your own suite.”
Asher stopped complaining and his eyes lit up. “You’re lying.”
“Cross my heart,” Anna replied. “You’ll able to play your game and stay up late without me bothering you.”
Justin said, “There’s a catch.”
“Kind of,” Anna replied. “You’ll have to help out.”
“What do you mean help out?” Asher asked.
“Cleaning, greeting guests. It's all part of your new adult lifestyle. You guys are growing young men. You can handle it.”
Asher didn’t like the sound of work.
Anna said, “If you do a good enough job, I might even pay you.”
Asher pondered that. “It’s better than fast food.”
“What are your thoughts, Justin?” Anna asked,
“I don’t get a say,” the seventeen-year-old replied.
“That’s not true. We’re all in this together,” Anna said.
“You’ve already made up your mind,” Justin said. “I knew you did the moment you arrived.”
Anna couldn’t say he was wrong. “Look, guys, I won’t buy it if you’ll be miserable, but do I want it? Yeah. I’m not planning on managing a Motel 6 for the rest of my life, and with James… well, it’s just us now.” She opened her arms in a showmanship gesture. “Look at this place. We can build something here. A family.”
“We already are a family,” Asher said.
Justin set his jaw, his expression turning bitter.
“A better family,” Anna elaborated. “So… are we going to do it or what?”
“Whatever,” Justin replied and put on his headphones.
Asher’s mouth scrunched to the side. His brow wrinkled as he thought deeply. “My own suite…”
“All yours,” Anna replied.
Having formed a consensus, they returned to the office.
The concierge asked, “Have you decided?”
“We have,” said Anna confidently.
The concierge pulled out the proper paperwork.
The next few weeks breezed by. Anna had already resigned from her position as the manager of the Motel 6. She put her old house on the market and left her realtor in charge of selling it. Another friend auctioned off most of her furniture and James’s Jeep. Anna burned through James’s life insurance and savings quickly, took out a few loans she hoped to repay with the sale of her old house, and left everything else to chance. She was optimistic though. She loved Club Blue. She’d cherish it like one of her children. One day, it would surpass its former glory. Once the boys’ school transcripts were sent to their new high school, York, Pennsylvania was no longer apart of Anna’s life.
Not everything was perfect. The day she moved into Club Blue, the working staff staged a walkout. They didn’t explain why. As they went out of the door, she offered them raises but they ignored her. The concierge didn’t help, either. He rarely returned her calls, and when he did, he sided with the leaving employees. The extended-stay patrons saw the change of management as the time to pack their bags. Anna was left with a thirty-three-room facility. She had no housekeepers, handymen, electricians, and marketers. Nobody but her two sons. They weren’t happy to shoulder the extra weight. Anna was downright pissed off.
She moved into the concierge’s suite, replacing the large bed with her own. Despite her profession, she hated sleeping on other mattresses. She brought in her wardrobe and personal dining table that belonged to her mother. Her parents were alive but distant. Retired, both of them left America to travel the world. She rarely spoke to them. She brought her recliner, desk chair, and favorite lamp, too. Asher and Justin weren’t allowed to bring any furniture. Their rooms had everything they needed.
After getting their own set of keys, they all settled into their own rooms.
At night, Club Blue was silent.
The lobby door was locked. Dry air lingered in the vast room.
Frank Sinatra’s voice was distorted as it spilled out of the lavish bar.
Dim orange light shined in the neglected bowling alley. Like clockwork, all the neon and flashing lights activated in a sudden noisy burst.
Deep in the dark kitchen, metal hooks dangled in the meat locker. Rust spotted the barbed tip hooks. They were fit for cow ribs.
The floors creaked in the vacant halls.
The door to the fourth floor was locked tight.
Anna tossed and turned in her sleep. She awoke, forgetting her nightmare immediately. Cold sweat doused her body. She panted. Eyes heavy, she stared at herself in the tall wall mirror. All she could see was her own silhouette. She swung her legs off the side of the bed, wiped the sleep from her eyes, and stood. Her soles touched the cold hardwood floor. She pulled open the window curtains. The forest surrounding her little castle was still covered in darkness. As thin as a hair, the sunlight breached the horizon. She threw on some clothes, a jacket, and put her hair in a bun. Slipping on her running shoes, she exited her room and tiptoed down the hallway. It was out of habit. She followed the stairs to the emergency exit. The northeastern air nipped at her. Though she was capable of walking, she decided to drive to the seafront.
She parked at the visitor lot and followed the trail to the rocky coast. The sliver of light had grown larger. She took a seat at the edge of the water. Soft waves slapped the rocky wall, but none reached Anna. A cool breeze brushed against her face. She thought about James. His kind smile. His often-humorous seriousness. The way they laughed early in their marriage.
Anna’s eyes watered.
He was gone. Killed in her bathtub.
3
Burn Notice
Asher pushed a laundry cart through the hall. Its dummy wheel spun rapidly. Using the keyring Anna provided for him, he unlocked suites, pulled off bed sheets and pillowcases, and added them to the growing pile. In certain suites, photographs of old white men hung on the walls. They wore tailored suits and had on large aprons that looked like envelopes. Heavy medallions hung around their necks. Badges decorated their breasts. A symbol that had the letter G inside a measuring compass and squire edge was hidden in the photographs and deftly etched in the wooden furniture. He had seen the symbol before on the internet. It was of Freemasonry. He didn’t know too much about them, but he was privy to the Illuminati conspiracy theories that circulated around his old school.
In the ballroom, looking down from the wooden band around the upper part of the room, was a l
arge eye surrounded by a pointy sun. Asher felt something was off about this place. It was like he was constantly being watched.
It didn’t take long until the mountain of sheets piled over the rim of the hamper. The job was boring, but Justin had it worst. He had to clean bathrooms.
Asher pushed the cart into the elevator and pressed the “B” button. The elevator smoothly descended.
Ding!
The door slid open. Asher pushed the cart across the basement’s concrete floor. Like the seedy underbelly of the beautiful city, the basement of Club Blue was drab, grey, and had a spiderweb infestation. The fluorescent lighting tubes cast a white hue throughout the corridor. A few tubes flickered. Others hummed. The light they projected agitated Asher’s eyes. Damp, mildew-tasting air hovered like an invisible cloud. Being alone got his heart pumping. He kept his hand close to his inhaler and scanned his surroundings. He pushed the cart a little faster.
He arrived at the industrial washing machine. It was large enough to take all the sheets in at once. Since the sheets and pillowcases were all white, Asher didn’t have to bother separating them. He tossed them inside, poured in the detergent, and started the load.
Suddenly, he heard a woman breathing in his ear.
Asher twisted back.
The basement was empty.
The lighting cast harsh shadows in the hall and dark boiler room.
Asher swallowed a glob of spit. “H-hello?”
Hearing no reply, Asher left the cart and sprinted to the elevator. He wasn’t taking any chances. He quickly pressed the “1” button. The doors closed two seconds later. It felt like an eternity. He didn’t know if the whisper was in his head. Probably. He was an imaginative guy.
He arrived in the lobby. Not seeing his mother or Justin, he headed to the bar, wanting to practice his billiards skills for a few minutes.
Justin stood behind the bar’s counter and was reaching for a whiskey bottle on the top shelf.
Asher adjusted his glasses. “You shouldn’t be doing that.”
Justin grabbed a glass, put it on the counter, and poured a splash inside. Looking Asher in the eyes, he gulped it down.
The Haunting at Sebring Hotel (A Riveting Haunted House Mystery Series Book 13) Page 2