“You’re no fun sometimes, Asher,” said Raven.
Her comment damaged Asher’s self-confidence. He thought for a moment before he sat up. “Okay. You want to do something? Let’s go see that lighthouse.”
Raven sat up, her face lighting up. “Really?”
“It’ll get us out of here for a little bit,” Asher said. “I just don’t want to stay out too late.”
“Have you been inside the lighthouse yet?”
“I didn’t know you could go in there.”
“Yeah, you just have to get a boat,” Raven said. “This is going to be exciting.”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Seeing it from far away is good enough for me,” Asher said.
Raven kept holding his hand. “Hurry. I don’t want anyone to see us sneak out.”
“Why?”
“Duh, it’ll be more exciting that way,” Raven replied.
Raven carefully opened the door and glanced into the hallway. Not seeing anyone, she gestured for Asher and headed for the side stairs near the elevator. She dashed into the stairwell, down to the ground floor, and out the emergency exit.
It was twilight hour.
Strong wind battered Asher and shook the trees.
“Race ya,” Raven said and started sprinting.
“Wait up!” Asher ran after her.
Giggling, Raven weaved between the trees and kicked up leaves.
Asher kept his hand on his inhaler. He trailed a few paces behind her. He felt invisible splinters clog his throat. He pushed himself to run faster. His knees popped. He really needed to spend more time away from his desk. He reached the rocky beach and doubled over. Raven was waiting for him, both hands on her hips and not the slightest bit out of breath.
Asher shook his inhaler and used it. He leaned back and stretched. “I haven’t run like that since fifth grade field day.”
Raven teased, “You did pretty good.”
“How are you not tired?” Asher asked between breaths. There were still spikes in his throat. He spat on the ground.
Raven said, “Maybe I’m just the best.”
Asher slipped the inhaler back into his pocket and cursed. “My phone.”
“Did you drop it?” Raven asked.
“No, I think I left it on the charger,” Asher said. “Dang it!”
Raven said, “Relax. We don’t need it.”
“It’ll be dark soon. What if we get lost on the way back?”
Raven said, “Have a little faith, Asher. I’m good at navigating in the dark.”
“If you say so,” Asher mumbled.
They walked along the seaside. It took Asher a long while to get his heart rate back to normal. The ocean raged. Its large waves smacked against the rocks. Black thunderheads darkened distant skies.
Asher stayed close to Raven. She held his hand. A few other people walked along the coast. Most of them left at the sight of storm clouds. The lighthouse stood in the distance. Its beacon rotated slowly. Raven knelt down beside the water. There were two hundred yards of ocean between here and the jagged-edged lighthouse’s island.
Raven said, “It’s too cold to cross.”
“Hey, I thought you said there was a boat,” Asher replied, hoping there wasn’t a way across.
He followed her down along the coast. They reached a small pier. A wooden rowboat bobbed in the rough waters. The white paint on the bow was chipped and worn. It was attached by a rusty metal chain.
The pier creaked under Asher’s feet. It wasn’t the easiest place to get into the water. The construction was old and rugged, too. It could’ve been here since the town’s inception. Barnacles and little crabs coated the wooden support beams. Newer 2x4s had replaced certain sections.
Jogging ahead of Asher, Raven was the first to reach the little rowboat.
“Aw man,” she said.
“What happened?” Asher asked, walking next to her.
“No paddles,” Raven said. She lifted up the metal lock securing the chain. “And this.”
“Oh, well,” Asher said.
Raven lowered her head, appearing upset.
Wanting to help, Asher pulled out his wallet and removed a leather pouch holding lock-picking tools.
Raven eyed it with intrigue.
Asher gestured for the lock. It was cold and weighty, but of a simple construction. He got on a knee and got to work.
Waves crashed loudly. The wind howled.
Asher stopped midway. “Wait. We don’t have any way to steer this thing.”
He noticed Raven wasn’t behind him.
She was near the start of the pier and pulling on a loose plank. It snapped out of place.
“Holy crap!” Asher explained.
Raven smiled at him. “Impressed?”
Asher nodded multiple times.
“Keep working on the lock,” she told him.
Asher picked the lock in a few minutes. He pocketed it and held the chain like a leash. The other end of the chain was attached to a ring on the boat.
Raven held two long planks.
Asher said, “I hope no cops see us.”
Raven said, “It would be exciting if they did. We’ll be like Bonnie and Clyde.”
“You’d make a great match for my brother,” Asher said. “He likes bad girls.”
“Well, I like smart boys,” Raven replied.
Asher adjusted his glasses. A compliment like that would feed his ego for years. Taking Raven’s hand, he helped her sit in the boat first. The boat rocked on the choppy waves. He tossed the rusty chain inside it.
No longer having anything to keep it still, the boat quickly moved away from the dock.
Raven extended one of the planks to Asher. At the last possible moment, he grabbed at the very end. He pulled the plank and dragged the boat his way.
“Hurry,” Raven beckoned.
Afraid he’d miss it, Asher leaped. He landed in the boat, tipping it to one side. He quickly leaned the opposite way, almost falling out. The boat found its balance.
“Whew,” Asher said.
Raven laughed.
Asher laughed with her.
She handed him one of the planks.
Together, they paddled across the gap between the shore and lighthouse. They looked at each other as they rowed. Raven’s inky black hair brushed over part of her face.
The sun fell away.
They neared the little dock at the foot of the island. The waves pushed them towards the rocky cliffs nearby. Asher rowed furiously. A splinter jabbed into his thumb. He gritted his teeth, but didn’t stop.
Raven reached out and grabbed the edge of the dock. “Give me the chain.”
Asher took two seconds away from rowing to hand it to her. Asher paddled to make up the space they’d just lost. Raven wrapped the chain around the little docking post. She secured it using Asher’s lock. Leaving the planks in the boat, they helped each other out and followed the dock to a series of wooden steps. They hiked until they reached the grassy knoll where the lighthouse stood.
The front door was locked.
Asher picked it. “We could go to juvie for this.”
They entered the building connected to the tower. It was cozy and had all the furnishings of a little house. They opened the tower door and hiked the spiral staircase to the top. The massive turning light stood in the large room. Glass windows occupied all sides. They could see far into the ocean in one direction and Club Blue standing above the trees in the other. They sat on the metal floor and watched the storm clouds in the distance.
Raven sighed. Her hands rested behind her as she looked at the view.
Asher’s knees were close to his chest. He tried to ignore the uncomfortable mesh floor. He noticed Raven’s uncharacteristic silence. “Hey, everything okay?”
“I… I have something you need to know.”
Asher waited for her to elaborate.
His mind went to one place. Her father was the killer. It made sense. He was the right age to have been involved
in the previous killings. He avoided people. He fit the profile. Asher braced himself for the truth. Why didn’t he see this before? It dawned on him that he was so busy looking at Raven that he never bothered spying on her father.
Raven said, “Everything I knew about the rituals at Club Blue, I learned from my father’s book.”
Asher kept quiet. He wanted her to confess that David Hunt was the killer.
“See, my father started his own investigation on the hotel’s dark history years ago. He talked to survivors of the mysterious fourth-floor fire, he observed the various residents, and he infiltrated the exiled Masonic order that was active there for many years. At that time, they were fractured and functioning at a fraction of their former power. Most of them had vanished after the fire. Father learned all their inside secrets. He wanted to write a book about it.”
“None of that sounds too bad,” Asher said.
“I’m not finished,” Raven said. “Asher, this isn’t the first time I’ve stayed at Club Blue.”
Asher's heart pounded. “Okay?”
“My father brought me here before. It was years ago,” Raven said.
Asher still wasn’t clear what she was trying to tell him. Was her father the killer? Was Asher in danger? Were they all?
He waited anxiously for Raven to reveal the truth.
34
Concierge
The Kia Sorento was parked on the shoulder of the road. Its lights were off, but the engine hummed. Woods occupied both sides of the street. In the darkness of its cab, Justin leaned back in the driver’s seat. He twisted the radio dial, skipping through rap, country, and alternative rock station. Finally, he found a talk show that grabbed his attention.
“Hello and welcome to KHR10 Radio. I’m your intrepid host and local historian Dean Hosier, and tonight we’re discussing Club Blue.”
Justin wiggled in the seat, trying to find a way to be more comfortable.
“Started in 1923, the old Freemason lodge has as always been an enigma in our little coastal town. Marco Blanc, a 30th degree Scottish Rite Freemason and entrepreneur, had a very specific vision: to build a fraternity where ambitious young entrepreneurs and old blood businessman could network, enjoy prohibited alcohol, and relax for an extended stay. Mr. Blanc made a lot of money despite his low rates.
“A few years later, he turned that lodge into an upscale hotel. Traffic flooded into Sebring, turning it into a safe haven during the depression and World War thereafter. However, everything changed in 1962 when the top floor of the luxury hotel erupted into flame.”
The radio signal fizzed.
Justin tried turning the dial, but his efforts were futile. He clenched his jaw and shut off the radio. He longed to use the money Anna gave him to find another hotel, but he needed to stay close to Club Blue. He was only two miles away.
He lifted the first handwritten ledger from the dusty stack on the passenger seat. He’d stolen these from Anna’s office before he left for the night. Keeping his phone’s notepad app open, he flipped through page after page, taking note of any reoccurring guest. The tedious work tried his patience, but if the killer was someone other than the concierge, they had to be a reoccurring guest. Justin cross-referenced the names and dates of guests with the missing people from the past few decades. It wasn’t as simple as matching a name to a date. Some guests had extended stays, meaning Justin had to take into account the two weeks to two months they stayed to see if it overlapped any of the victim’s check-out dates.
After an hour, he put the thick ledger back on the stack. He pinched the bridge of his nose between his eyes. Even if he found a potential suspect, he didn’t know how he’d research them, and he hated the idea of turning the information over to Agent Cameron.
Justin toggled the headlights and drove to the beach. He parked at the easiest spot and got out. Only a small glow of the sun showed beyond the horizon. Lamps alongside the nearby cemented path lit up the darkness. With his hands buried in his warm hoodie pocket, he walked the path. A hair tie held his messy brown hair in a loose man-bun. Exhaustion and lack of appetite lightened his pale complexion but darkened his eyebags. His faint mustache added to his haggard appearance.
Lightning rippled across distant storm clouds. It would hit Sebring soon. There wasn’t anyone out by the beach. The old pier had missing wooden planks. There was no boat attached to it. Justin walked for a while, hoping it would clear his head. He wished he could skateboard right now, but he had bitter problems. That darn hotel had ruined his life. He felt bitter, angry, and alone. The only thing that made Sebring better than York was the lack of his father.
Like under a spotlight, a lamp shined its glow over a man seated on a bench. He wore a wool double-breasted jacket, a scarf, and a black bowler cap. A book rested in his lap, but the man’s eyes were on the raging sea.
Justin recognized the stranger from somewhere. He moved closer, getting a better look at the side of his face.
“It’s you,” Justin said.
The concierge turned to him. White stubble painted his cheeks, chin, and upper lip. His steel-gray eyes examined the boy. “Ah. Ms. Hall’s son.”
Justin stood in front of him, ready to strike and flee if he felt his life threatened.
“I heard there’s been a little trouble at the Club,” the concierge remarked.
“Yeah, but I think it started long before I showed up,” Justin replied, disdain in his voice.
The concierge stood up. “It's getting late. Maybe you should get going.”
Justin held his ground. He remembered the man’s name. “I’m not going anywhere, Ferguson. Not until you tell me what the hell is going on.”
“I don’t have time for this.” Mr. Ferguson pushed past him.
Justin grabbed the man’s wrist and held it at chest level.
“Let go,” Mr. Ferguson warned.
Justin squeezed harder.
“I will call the cops,” Mr. Ferguson threatened.
“And I’ll tell them about the killings. Though it’s not big news anymore, they’re looking for answers about the skeleton in the hidden wall. You’re number one on their suspect list.”
Mr. Ferguson frowned. “What do you want from me?”
“Who’s killing people in my hotel?”
Mr. Ferguson chuckled. “You’re crazy.”
“I know about the sacrifices. I know about all the hidden corridors. I found a list of names carved into a hidden wall of fourteen people that have gone missing over the last four decades. To top it off, we have had a number of mysterious checkouts in the last few weeks,” Justin bent the man’s wrist back.
Mr. Ferguson gasped in pain.
“You’re going to give me answers or you’re going to have a lot bigger problems than the police,” Justin bluffed.
“Fine! Fine. Let go, and we’ll talk like civilized human beings,” Mr. Ferguson bartered.
“I’m a lot faster than you, remember that,” Justin said, releasing the man’s wrist.
He rubbed it as he sat down.
Justin loomed over him.
“Are you going to sit or…”
“I’m fine right here.” Justin took a few steps closer, preventing the man from getting out.
Mr. Ferguson wore his disdain plainly. “What do you want to know?”
“Who is the killer?” Justin asked.
Mr. Ferguson chuckled. He shook his head. “I can’t answer that.”
“Can’t or won’t?” Justin asked, keeping his hands on his hip.
“Can’t,” Mr. Ferguson said firmly.
“Any suspects?” Justin asked.
“You’re not very good at this,” Mr. Ferguson said.
Justin set his jaw. He wasn’t the stronger fellow, but he was quick and could knock Mr. Ferguson out with a few hits.
Mr. Ferguson said, “You’re looking for answers to a murder, great, but that’s not my department. I deal with the guests. Check-ins and check-outs, mostly.”
“So why won’
t you give me a list of suspicious suspects?” Justin asked.
“You have my ledgers.”
“You must’ve known something was wrong while you worked there,” Justin theorized.
Mr. Ferguson said, “This case is personal to you, isn’t it?”
Justin was silent.
“Did you lose a friend? No, that’s not it. Something else happened, didn’t it? Something you can’t explain.” A wicked smile grew on Mr. Ferguson’s face. “So which one was it? Alesha? Vincent? Trent?”
“Who the hell are you talking about?” Justin asked.
“You know,” Mr. Ferguson said seriously. “Trent was the first to appear to me. I was taking a shower and suddenly I wasn’t alone. A naked man wearing only a necktie stood behind him. His eyes bulged. His swollen tongue poked out of his purple lips. I’ll never forget it.”
Justin listened intently.
Mr. Ferguson said, “Alesha was the next to see me. I knew her when she checked in. Gorgeous woman. Not so much now.”
“You did this to them,” Justin said.
“Me?” Mr. Ferguson asked, “You don’t think I’m the first one the police always suspect? I’ve had my name cleared over and over again. You can talk to my various alibis. Most of them work down at the street corner by the bus stop.”
Justin wasn’t sure if he believed them. The man’s convictions were strong. If he was acting, he was good.
Mr. Ferguson said, “Now would you please sit down, for Pete’s sake. I’m tired of talking to your groin.”
Not taking his eyes off him, Justin lowered himself to the bench. He kept some space between them. If Mr. Ferguson were to reach for a knife or gun, Justin was confident he could snatch the weapon before the man had a chance to aim.
“Finally,” Mr. Ferguson mumbled.
“Why are Alesha and the others still around?” Justin said.
“Club Blue is special,” Mr. Ferguson replied.
“Does it have to do with the rituals?” Justin asked.
“Anything is possible. All I know is that it started happening after the fire,” Mr. Ferguson explained. “Many guests were plagued with strange visions for years. However, when the arsonist was apprehended by the police, the hauntings stopped.”
The Haunting at Sebring Hotel (A Riveting Haunted House Mystery Series Book 13) Page 23