Checking Out

by Alexie Aaron

  PEEPs Lite 9.1

  Checking Out

  A Haunted Series novella

  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 2014 – 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

  Checking Out 9.1

  Coming in February 2014: Ice and Steel 9.2

  CIN FIN-LATHEN MYSTERIES

  Decomposing

  Death by Saxophone

  Discord

  I dedicate this book to the fans of urban legends. We all have spent a minute or two pondering if saying Bloody Mary three times in the mirror will bring the fabled girl, and we may actually have looked for the ghosts that walk the haunted highways. For those who spend more than a minute, that reach out and explore the legends, this book is for you.

  Bought by Maraya21

  kickass.so / 1337x.to / h33t.to / thepiratebay.se

  Table of Contents

  Dew Drop Inn

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Alexie Aaron

  Dew Drop Inn

  Burt pulled on the door to no avail. It was stuck fast. He ran over to the nearest window where he tore the curtains off the rod in his haste, exposing the green shutters. He raised the window and pushed at the shutters. They refused to open. Fact was, they didn’t budge at all. They were as fixed in place as the china representation of the Dew Drop Inn that he had admired on the mantle of the parlor upon his arrival yesterday.

  “It’s a waste of energy,” the sweet voice said behind him. “Why don’t you relax and have another muffin? Millie has outdone herself with these cranberry orange confections.”

  Burt turned and faced Mrs. Amelia Brewster, the owner of the inn. Today she wore a tweed business suit with a beige ruffled blouse, taupe hose and sensible shoes on her stout but fit body. Her salt and pepper hair was pulled into a French twist, her brows darkened dramatically, highlighting her large blue eyes. She gave Burt a pursed-lipped smile, inviting him to converse with her.

  “What is going on here? This can’t be happening. Everyone else was able to leave here after a night’s stay,” Burt blurted out.

  “I’m sorry, I don’t understand.” Mrs. Brewster asked, “Leave here? Why would anyone want to leave here? The Dew Drop has all your needs taken care of, Mr. Hicks. You have a warm comfy bedroom, en suite, and breakfast served twenty-four hours a day,” she listed. “Cooked and served by my daughter. You know she went to culinary school in Chicago, first in her confection class. Wait until you taste her croissants. Come,” she urged, “sit by the fire, and I’ll bring you a hot cup of coffee.”

  “Are you crazy?” Burt asked. “Why are you keeping me prisoner here?”

  “I am not. The inn is. Whatever the Dew Drop’s reasons are, you’re to be our guest for another day. May I recommend the pecan waffles?”

  Burt backed away from the woman and turned back to the window. To his surprise, the draperies were back in place. He touched the material, and it felt real to him. Burt drew the curtains aside, and the shutters were now open. The sunny day that greeted him was incongruous to the January climate of southern Wisconsin.

  “Why don’t you go out on the porch, and I’ll bring you another cup of coffee,” Mrs. Brewster suggested, opening the front door. “Or perhaps an ice cold glass of hand-squeezed lemonade?”

  Burt walked over, puzzled by the ease in which the door moved in her hand.

  “This was locked,” he claimed.

  “Nonsense, it may stick a little in this balmy weather, but we never keep it locked. It wouldn’t be hospitable would it? After all, the Dew Drop Inn has the best reputation six years running. Better Homes and Gardens had a three page photo spread on the inn in their May 1970 edition.”

  Burt walked out the door, but before his foot hit the wooden steps he was cautioned.

  “Careful, Mr. Hicks, that second step could kill you.”

  Burt looked down horrified to see the second step was now hundreds of feet below the inn. He felt the strong hand of the hostess on his shoulder.

  “Why don’t you just sit over here and enjoy the sunshine.”

  Dazed, he let her guide him to the Adirondack rocker. He sat down, and despite Mrs. Brewster’s insistence it was a balmy day, Burt was cold.

  “I hope you saved room for muffins,” she said entering the inn. “You certainly enjoyed packing away all those pancakes this morning.”

  Burt looked at the empty threshold and listened to the retreating steps of the owner of the B&B. Burt’s stomach rumbled, and he suspected he was starving. He didn’t feel the warmth of the sun as it fell across his lap. Burt looked at his hands and saw that they were red and chapped. His eyes assured him that he was sitting on the porch of an inn in summer. His body told him another story.

  “What the hell is going on here?”

  Chapter One

  Mia fought to release herself from the hold of the white stuff that surrounded her body. She lay on her back floundering. She sank deeper and deeper until all she could see was white above and around her. Mia twisted her body around and struggled until her feet made contact with solid ground. She stood up, shaking off the clinging snow as she formed a snowball. She threw it hard at her target, and before it landed she had formed another one.

  “Ouch! You have to be freaking kidding me!” Ted complained as he retreated behind the PEEPs truck. Digging out the snow from the collar of his coat, he called, “I surrender!”

  His plea was answered by a snowball skidding over the hood of the truck two inches from his head.

  Cid looked down from his window. He had witnessed the whole fight. Mia and Ted were clearing a path through the drifted snow to the woodpile when Ted tossed a shovel full of snow on top of her. She retaliated with a barrage of curses, followed by the rapid fire of quickly formed snowballs. Ted charged forward, picked her up and deposited her in a snowdrift, claiming that would cool her off. At first Mia looked like defenseless turtle laying there on her back as she sank into the deep snow. But Mia wasn’t a turtle and hardly defenseless. She sprang up out of the snow, throwing an arsenal of snowballs. She had Ted cornered behind the Paranormal Entity Exposure Partners command center crying uncle.

  “I think, Maggie, Uncle Cid better put some hot chocolate on the stove. Those two are going to be frozen by the time they reach an accord.”

  The young mixed breed dog sniffed in agreement. Anything that got the cooking man to the kitchen was a good idea. She followed him through the tiny apartment over the PEEPs office and out onto the deck.

  “Hot cocoa in five minutes,” Cid called down to the couple. “Mia, it isn’t ladylike to make Ted eat snow…. I don’t care what he put down your pants… I can’t believe I just said that,” Cid mumbled, turning red.

  Maggie barked.

  Distracted, Mia let go of Ted’s arm
, and he wiggled away. He grabbed a handful of snow and shoved it up under Mia’s parka. She screamed as she danced around getting rid of the remaining snow. She tackled Ted, and the two of them landed in a drift of snow, inches shy from a stand of young maple trees.

  “You two better stop before someone loses an eye!” Cid warned. “Come on in, and leave your boots outside,” he instructed. “First one here gets gingerbread biscotti.”

  Mia looked up at their good friend and fellow paranormal investigator. She climbed off Ted, shaking off the snow she had gathered when she slid over the truck before landing on a very surprised Ted. They had wrestled in the snow between the company vehicles for a while. Mia had just gained an advantage on her tall thin husband when Cid came out.

  “Come on, Mia, get off me. Cid said gingerbread. You love gingerbread,” Ted reminded her.

  “I do, almost as much as you,” she said and leaned down.

  Ted closed his eyes and puckered his lips.

  Mia picked up a handful of snow and washed his face with it. She jumped up and ran towards the barn.

  Ted laughed as he wiped his face with his scarf. By the time he got to his feet, Mia had already managed the stairs and had one boot off.

  Mia watched her husband as he strode over to the stairs, cleaning off the snow he could reach as he walked. Ted was a good sport. In their play fights, she didn’t have to hold back to maintain his ego. He knew that she respected him, and she knew he was letting her win. His six-foot four inches of lean muscle could have easily outmaneuvered her petite frame. But he didn’t. In doing so he suffered all the joys a few feet of freshly fallen snow could bring. Mia giggled and greeted Ted with a long hot kiss.

  “What, no snow?” he growled.

  “I think you’ve learned your lesson,” Mia said.

  Ted stepped out of his boots, picked up Mia’s discarded ones and said, “Let’s get in there. My tootsies are cold.”

  Mia looked down at the mismatched socks he had on. She frowned at the hole in one of them. Ted’s big toe was red from the cold. “You have a lousy wife.”

  “I don’t think so,” he said as they walked in the door.

  “What don’t you think?” Cid asked from the kitchenette.

  “I don’t think I have a lousy wife,” Ted answered, setting the boots down on the rag rug by the door. He helped Mia off with her coat before taking his off.

  “Yes, he does,” Mia answered. “The poor waif is wearing mismatched holey socks.”

  Cid walked out and looked at Ted’s feet. “Holy Socks, Batman!” he joked. Turning to Mia he said, “Mia, Ted probably put on the first thing he found.”

  Ted wiggled his toes. “What’s the big deal? I had on boots. Who was going to see my feet?”

  “That’s not the point. If you were in an accident, the ER nurses would think I was a lousy wife,” Mia said and plopped down on the couch. Maggie trotted over and put her head in Mia’s lap. She rewarded the dog with a hug and proceeded to scratch her behind the left ear.

  “It’s not your job to make sure I have a matched pair of socks,” Ted said. “Speaking of jobs, we have the hotel episode to finalize. Anyone hear from Burt?”

  Cid shook his head. “I put in a few calls and forwarded some email to him, but I haven’t heard from our illustrious leader in a few days.”

  “That’s odd,” Mia said frowning. “He’s usually good about returning calls.”

  “He could be shacked up with Audrey,” Ted suggested.

  “Audrey is out of town visiting relatives with her parents. She’s due back today or is it tomorrow?” Mia asked herself.

  “Mike?” Cid asked.

  “Why would Burt be shacked up with Mike?” Ted asked.

  “No, idiot, maybe… Hang on,” Cid said. He brought over the hot drinks and the promised biscotti on a tray.

  “You’re going to make someone an excellent wife,” Ted said. He ignored the go-to-hell look Cid gave him.

  “Leave him alone, dear,” Mia said. “He’s our wife and a damned good one too.”

  Cid picked up his phone and dialed Mike’s number. “Good morning to you too,” he said into the phone. “We’re just wondering if you heard from Burt? You haven’t. No, we were just curious. Yes, he does that. Okay. Later.” Cid looked over at them and said, “He suggested that Burt’s probably turned his phone off and forgot to turn it on.”

  “Perhaps we should drop by,” Mia suggested. “Bring him some of those biscotti.”

  “Ah, and tell him we were just in the neighborhood, kind of thing,” Ted said.

  “No, tell him the truth. I always think the direct approach saves so much time,” Mia said, snagging another biscotti. “Honestly, you ought to sell these to Mary’s B&B.”

  “That’s it,” Cid said excitedly. “I bet he’s holed up compiling his sightings on the mysterious Bed and Breakfast, his Fata Morgana.”

  “Why not do it here? We have more equipment than he has. All he has is that old laptop,” Ted mentioned.

  “Burt likes to go old school. It helps him to think. You know, I actually saw him write something on a piece of paper once,” Mia said sarcastically.

  “Save the trees, type on keys,” Ted said. He received a high five from Cid and disdain from Mia.

  “Returning to the B&B, why is he so obsessed with that thing?” Cid asked. “I think he’s gone positively Ahab over it.”

  It took Mia a moment to tie Ahab into the investigation of the phantom bed and breakfast. “So the B&B is his white whale.”

  “Yes, Pumpkin,” Ted said and patted her on the head.

  Mia responded by slugging him hard on the arm.

  “Ouch!”

  Mia ignored him and asked Cid, “Do you want to go over and check out his place with me? If he’s there, we can see if we can talk some sense into him.”

  “What if he isn’t there?” Ted asked.

  “We’ll look through his stuff and see if we can figure out where he is,” Mia answered.

  “I’ll hang here at the office with Mags,” Ted said. “Maybe he left something on the calendar but neglected to forward it to the rest of us.”

  ~

  “Rule number one, don’t investigate alone,” Burt said out loud as he entered his room after fleeing the porch. He shut and locked the door behind him. What had possessed him to venture out alone? He was sure of his findings, and it wouldn’t have taken much time to get one of the PEEPs to join him. True, there may have been a lifted eyebrow or two. When he brought up the subject before, all but Mia mocked the idea. Her exposure to the paranormal gave her an open mind. He bet he could arrive on her doorstep with sharpened stakes for a vampire hunt, and she’d be game – after stopping for strings of garlic of course. The scientific males of the group made this phantom hotel a hard sell.

  He looked around him at the soft furnishings and tasteful décor. Most B&Bs tended to be decked out in floral draperies and prints. They also seemed to have an abundance of rocking chairs and fragrant soaps. This one was different. The moment he pulled into the parking lot, he got the feeling that he had arrived back in time. There wasn’t the obligatory blacktopped lot with orange striped spaces. Here, the gravel-topped hard-packed earth served as the surface for the cars. He remembered seeing other parked cars, but he never saw the other guests. Had he taken a closer look, he would have realized they were all older models kept in showroom condition.

  His room contained a four-poster queen size bed. The fabrics were solids and paisleys in blue and yellow hues. The paintings hung on the wall were real oils depicting landscapes of southern Wisconsin. The bath was small, but the porcelain shone with cleanliness. Big soft towels hung from racks. The shower tub setup reminded him of his grandmother’s house. That should have been the first warning to an unsuspecting guest. Most Bed and Breakfast owners remodeled the bathrooms, trying to combine colonial décor with millennial efficiency.

  A light tap on his door disturbed his investigation. He walked over and opened the door to
find the daughter of the house standing there with a tray laden with cookies and a pot of coffee.

  “Thought you might be hungry,” she said, breezing past him and setting the tray on the small table by the window. “Brrrr, it’s cold in here. Let’s get that fire started and warm your bones.”

  “It doesn’t do any good,” Burt said. “The fire isn’t real, those cookies aren’t real and neither are you.”

  The woman looked hurt. “I assure you, sir, that I am real, and I just baked the cookies. Your rudeness is appalling.”

  “What do you expect of your prisoners, cordiality?”

  “I think you’ve outstayed your welcome. I’ll have your bill waiting for you at the front desk,” she said, pushing past him and walking out the door.

  Burt stepped out into the hall and watched her retreat down the corridor towards the stairs. “Well, it’s worth a try,” he said, gathering his overnight bag. His investigative backpack and computer bag had long ago disappeared. He lost track of them right after he arrived. He was sure he placed both bags on the chair in the corner, but when he went looking for them, he found them missing. When he had brought this up to the hostess, she raised her hands and mentioned that a man his age ought to take better care of his things.

  He walked down the stairs and into the foyer that served as the inn’s lobby. He looked around and didn’t see anyone at the massive oak desk. The front door opened behind him, and he felt the cold breeze of winter snake along the floor, chilling his ankles. He turned around to see the hostess brushing off a few snowflakes from her shoulders.

  “Sorry, for the wait. I thought I would clear the snow from the porch. Can I help you?” she asked sweetly.

  “I was told my bill would be waiting for me at the desk.”

  The woman looked puzzled, walked over, sat down, and moved through the papers looking for said bill. “Your name?”