The Elk (A Caine & Murphy Paranormal Thriller Series Book 1)

by Dominika Waclawiak

  “Names, please,” the man demanded. His mama’s arms tightened around him.

  “Magdalena Michalski,” his mama answered while the brown woman kneeled in front of him.

  “What’s your name?” she asked him. Szymon checked with his mama who nodded.

  “Szymon,” he said.

  “How old are you, Szymon?”

  “Eight.” The woman straightened and pulled off his wooly hat. He shivered as the cold wind hit the back of his damp hair and saw the woman nod at the bad man.

  “Szymon, you need to come with us,” the woman said, pulling on his arm.

  “No! Why do you want my son?” His mama’s voice sounded strange to Szymon. Like, when Pani Dudek told them that Papa had gone to heaven.

  “He needs to come with us.” The woman tugged harder on his arm but Mama wouldn’t let go.

  “NO!” Mama clutched him to her. The brown woman took him by both shoulders and pulled harder but Mama kept hold of his arm. “Please don’t. I’ll do anything. Please,” she pleaded with them.

  Szymon stared up at the adults as the bad man pulled out a gun and pointed it at Mama’s head. He heard his mama sob, and then a bright light blinded him while a big bang hurt his ears. He felt wet on his face as his mama let him go. He clamped his hands over his ears while the brown woman pulled at him, but he didn’t want to go and leave his mama like that. He kneeled down next to her and tried to shake her awake but that just made more blood pour out of her head and onto the dirty, grey snow on the sidewalk. Mama killed a chicken for dinner yesterday and her blood looked the same as the chickens did. He looked up at the brown woman.

  “MAMA. MAMA. Mama’s hurt. You hurt my mama,” he yelled at the brown woman because he was too afraid to look at the bad man. She yanked him by the arm, but he fought against her. He had to stay with Mama. He wouldn’t leave her here. She needed him. “MAMA!” He screamed but Mama did nothing. She just lay there, her eyes open. The bad man lifted him up and threw him over his shoulder. Where were they taking him? Why couldn’t he stay with Mama?

  The brown woman’s face came close to his. “Be a good boy, Szymon. Be a good boy,” she said. He whimpered and knew that Mama went to heaven just like Papa had. He was alone now. He fell silent and stopped squirming. The ground moved, and he watched the bad man step into the street. Why did they hurt Mama? He had to be a good boy now, or he’d go to heaven too.

  Barney Leonard studied the sign flashing “The All-Star Theatre Cafe & Speakeasy” above the entrance to the Sunshine Assisted Living Home cafeteria and wished that the speakeasy part was still true. Instead of delicious mixed cocktails and well-heeled clientele, he and the other residents got a utilitarian buffet of hot and cold breakfast offerings. Scrambled eggs that resembled cardboard, sausage links, wilted fruit and oatmeal that looked like dried concrete. He played with his plain bagel smeared with light cream cheese, the only one they stocked here, and wondered what kind of breakfast Marilyn and Dimaggio ate at this very spot, when it was one of the most famous restaurants in Hollywood and not a low rent cafeteria. At least the company who bought the place kept the rich dark wood paneling. They made up for that oversight by outfitting the rest of the place with cheap plastic tables and chairs.

  He pushed his plate away in disgust. Where in the hell was Babs? He stared towards the door to the lobby and tried to will Babs to step through. The door stayed closed. Mary Ann McClatch, a well preserved seventy-five, skin unnaturally stretched and rouged for maximum impact, leaned in closer to him and put her hand on his knee. His head swam with the scent of strong perfume, the woman had to be bathed in it.

  “It has to be Irene Gibbons, don’t you think Barney? She was the one that jumped out of a window on the eleventh floor, love sick right? Such strong emotions.” Her gruff voice whispered in his ear. She pulled back and gave him the look. That look. They had one night together, and he couldn’t shake her, however hard he tried. He gave her his best smile and took her hand off his thigh.

  Barney shifted away and focused on Lauren, a round grandma with twinkling blue eyes who was a dead ringer for Mrs. Claus. She snorted and shook her head at Mary Ann’s failed advance. Barney had struck out with Lauren when he first got to Sunshine but didn’t hold it against her. The crinkles around her eyes showed her love of laughter and each time she smiled, he wished his view of the world matched hers better. Although Babs, in her own way, was helping him change his views, one at a time. He was thrilled and loved her for it.

  He remembered the first time he’d spotted Barbara Monroe in the lobby and knew that she was the one. Who knew he was such a romantic at his ancient age? Up to that point, he’d been bed hopping for over a year but had grown bored of it and wanted something more substantial. It took him several months of hot pursuit, but he got her and was damn proud of that.

  “It’s always the lovesick ones,” Mary Ann said, glaring at her.

  “You should know,” Lauren countered, winking at him. He burst out laughing. Mary Ann ignored her but let go of his arm. He stretched it out to get his blood circulating from her vise like grip.

  “I don’t know whether it’s only one ghost. Rudolf Valentino frequented this bar until his death in ’26 and Harry Houdini’s widow, Bess, held an infamous séance on the roof in ’36 on Halloween night.” He stopped as Lauren rolled her eyes.

  “Do you really believe in all that stuff, Barney?” Lauren asked.

  “It’s all based on fact, Lauren. I remember reading about Frances Farmer being dragged out of here by the police after skipping parole. She had been a doll on set. This place is our history. I remember going to the silent pictures as a kid, and they’re the reason I got into the business. The list of deaths here goes on and on, D.W. Griffith, Irene Gibbons, like you said.” He nodded to Mary Ann. “And even William Frawley, Fred Mertz from ‘I Love Lucy’. I worked with him by the way, and he died at the front entrance. It’s like being surrounded by old friends, and it could be any of them. Or all of them.”

  “That was very eloquent, Barney,” Lauren admitted.

  “Thank you, Lauren,” he said, and saw Mary Ann bristle. Where in the hell was Babs? Everyone in the place knew he and Babs were together, and Mary Ann wouldn’t dare to pull this in front of her.

  “But the voice sounded like a woman’s,” Mary Ann whined. “Have you heard anything?”

  Barney shook his head. However much he felt as though he was home, he still kept a healthy sense of skepticism regarding actual ghosts. He could imagine Frances and William and Valentino hanging about here, but he’d never actually seen any of them. After forty years as a sound engineer, he knew all sorts of things created sounds that could be mistaken for other things, among them ghosts.

  “What about James and Judith...the others?” Mary Ann asked. Barney scowled at her question. A number of people had died in the last several months and most of the residents were either panicked or trotting out crazy theories about the reaper walking the halls. His mind jumped to Babs. She should be here by now. A knot twisted in his stomach, but he reminded himself that she always overslept.

  “What if Bess Houdini brought something evil upon us?” Mary Ann whispered, her eyes growing wide. Lauren snorted again.

  “Really Mary Ann, you’re talking demons now? As if ghosts weren’t crazy enough?” Lauren asked as she squared off.

  “Has anyone seen Babs this morning?” The gnawing feeling in his stomach grew bigger. He felt Mary Ann’s hand pulling at his arm again.

  “She definitely believes in ghosts and demons. Why just two days ago we were messing around with an Ouija board in her room and I’m positive we made contact. She was talking all about black magic and the other world.” She nodded and watched Barney’s face closely. It was no secret Babs was a bit kooky, but he loved that about her. Mary Ann scowled at him when he didn’t give her the response she was hoping for. “What about the séances? On the roof?” Mary Ann attempted to get his attention back to her problem, but he shrugged her arm off.
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  “Something’s wrong. I should check on Babs.” He got up and saw Nurse Louise. He hesitated as he watched her fill a plate at the buffet and lowered himself back into his seat. She headed right towards their table. Regular angel of death that one, he thought. He was sure she was the one responsible for the most recent deaths there.

  He played it cool and forced a smile as Nurse Louise got to the table.

  “Can I join?” Nurse Louise asked. Mary Ann nodded, and Lou sat down, her tray in front of her.

  “Maybe you can make sense of all this,” Mary Ann said as Nurse Lou’s fork stopped in midair.

  “Not you too. This is about last night, isn’t it?” Lou asked, and Barney heard stress in her voice. Interesting.

  All the residents welcomed her and Dads when they arrived some months back. Dads kept her busy, his dementia worsening week by week and they rallied to help her in any way they could with him. But then James died, then Judith, and Amy, Nancy, and Regina. Even for an assisted living facility that was a lot of deaths. That quack Dr. Jerris claimed they all died of natural causes and callously said, ‘Well, we all have to die of something. They were old.’

  What a bastard, he thought, his eyes narrowing at the memory. Barney didn’t have to do too much research before he found doctors and nurses who killed their own patients and were called angels of death. Nurse Louise must be one of the best because no one suspected a thing. Except for him.

  “There are no ghosts, Mary Ann. I promise,” Nurse Lou said, piercing his thoughts as she speared some egg on her fork.

  “How can you be sure?” He kept his voice even, but it came out a hiss. Nurse Lou gave him a smile that he wanted to wipe off her face.

  “I’m surprised a scientific man like yourself would believe in such nonsense,” Nurse Lou said and popped the egg in her mouth. Mary Ann and Lauren leaned in, smelling blood.

  “Sound engineer not scientist,” he said, ignoring her tone. “With all the deaths around here, it’s as plausible as anything else.” He scrutinized her face for any tells but found nothing. She was stone cold.

  “Why can’t you be more helpful? You stir up trouble by scaring the hell out of everyone,” Nurse Lou said and looked to the women for confirmation. Mary Ann and Lauren avoided her eyes.

  “Maybe they should be scared,” Barney said. “There are people dropping like flies all around here lately.”

  Nurse Lou let out a derisive laugh. No one respected the elderly, especially this current generation, Barney thought. The nurse before Nurse Lou spoke to them in a similar degrading fashion, using a tone more akin to speaking to young children and not to her elders.

  Nurse Lou pointed her fork in his face. “You don’t have a good attitude, Barney. Why anyone listens to you is beyond me.” She shook her head in disgust.

  “I’m old. I can have whatever attitude I want,” Barney grunted as he shoved away from the table. “I gotta go find Babs.” He stalked out of the cafeteria without looking back at any of them.

  He fought the urge to run through the door and counted his steps until he stepped over the threshold. The moment the door closed behind him, he broke into a run. Russell Hall, the guard on duty, shouted something as he ran by but he didn’t bother slowing down for that asshole.

  Barney limped down the hall, wheezing from too much exertion, worry etched on his face. He stopped at Room 837 and took several deep breaths before pounding on the door. He hoped Babs would throw it open in annoyance and yell at him for being so obnoxious, but the door stayed closed. He put his head to the door and listened for any sounds from inside. Nothing. He kicked the door one last time, but she didn’t open it.

  “Babs? You there?” He pounded harder and even kicked it again for good measure. No answer. With his face pale and sweaty and heart pounding in his chest, he yelled, “Barbara? Are you in there? Can I come in?” When he got no answer, he got desperate. “Stand away from the door, I’m coming in,” he shouted and threw his body against the door. It barely gave way.

  The key. She gave him a key. He turned away from the door and then froze. He had made her promise to lock her door but what if she forgot? Cold sweat dripped down his back at the thought. If the door was open… He squeezed his eyes shut and twisted the doorknob to the right. The lock tumblers disengaged, and the door squeaked open. Jesus, why had she left the door open?

  “Babs? Barbara? You OK? It’s Barney,” he called out, opening his eyes. Her blackout curtains were open so she couldn’t still be asleep. She had always complained that she couldn’t sleep with any light in the room, but there she was still in bed. He took a step inside and smelled it. Decay and death, sickly sweet and familiar. It wafted by him as he threw himself at her bed. “Babs, NO, NO!”

  She lay on the bed, her arms at her side and her head on the pillow. He felt under her chin for where her pulse should be and pressed his fingers there, her skin ice-cold and waxy underneath his touch. She was dead.

  He pulled back his head, and a low guttural moan escaped from him. Not Babs. Not his Barbara. Why did it have to be Barbara? His body shook with sobs.

  Diane Lawrence already mentally cataloged the mid-century modern Vladimir Kagan floating curve sofa for the house she’d selected for purchase after she got her promotion. The sofa’s sleek boomerang form would be perfect for the formal living room that had stunning views to the Pacific Ocean. Matt’s tongue traced a wet path down her collarbone and brought her back to her present. He shoved her blouse away and hungrily stared at her black lacy bra.

  “I love these girls,” he moaned and ducked his head back down. He reminded her of an eager puppy, and she worked hard not to roll her eyes at him. He was a far cry from the producers she’d had to contend with not too long ago. Those assholes were the real predators, she thought, as she pulled his head out of her chest and gave him a long, hard kiss.

  “Matty honey.” She put on her sultry voice. “You told me I’d have the promotion by now. We could be in the same building and can you just imagine the fun we could have?” She traced kisses across his cheek and bit his ear lobe playfully.

  Matty, or Matt Lacready as he was known at McGregor Holdings, the parent company who owned the Sunshine Assisted Living Facility among many others, was her direct supervisor and she had worked on him for months. She finally managed to extricate him from his wife at the last Christmas party and gave him the ride of his life. He’d been hers ever since, but then she knew he didn’t stand a chance against her. She had been on Melrose Place after all.

  “Baby, it’s not so easy. I have to work through HR, get support from them and my bosses.”

  “I’ve shown profit for the last couple years, and I haven’t seen any compensation for that,” she said, pushing him away and buttoning up her blouse.

  “Let’s not talk business,” he said and checked his watch. “I have only another fifteen minutes.” He held out his arms, but Diane turned away, disgusted with him. She needed that raise to convince the bank she could afford a 1.4 million dollar home in the Palisades. Between the inheritance she got from her deceased mother and her substantial savings, she had the down-payment, just not the paycheck to make the monthly payment.

  “My mind is on business. Maybe we should do this another time,” she said and watched Matty’s face droop. He wasn’t going to get any of this for free, she thought, as she smoothed down her shirt and straightened her skirt.

  “C’mon, don’t be that way.” He stepped closer, but she put up her arm to hold him off. He gave her his pouty face, and her demeanor towards him melted just a touch. Her eyes wandered around the shabbily furnished office. The Ikea shelves sagged with the weight of patient files, and the two chairs in front of her own desk needed new upholstery. She frowned at the ugliness of it all.

  If they found out about all these deaths...she waved away that thought. Everyone who lived at the Sunshine was old, and death was an old friend in an assisted living facility.

  “Diane, hello? You there?” Matty’s voice broke th
rough her reverie. She snapped back and found herself in his arms. She broke away from him just as two knocks sounded on her door. Matt’s face froze in terror. “I can’t be here.”

  Diane smoothed down her long blond hair and took a deep breath. “Pull yourself together and have a seat. You’re my supervisor, and you have every right to be here. I know who it is.” She recognized that knock and knew it was her. Sure enough, Lou stuck her head in the door.

  “You have a sec...” Lou trailed off when she saw Matt.

  He stood up and shook Diane’s hand. “We’ll talk more. Call me in a couple of days.” Diane pursed her lips as she watched him scurry past Lou and out of the room. Matt was proving more trouble than he was worth. Maybe she needed to move to Plan B, she thought as she sat back behind her desk.

  “What can I do for you, Lou?” Diane said as she waved the other woman to the chair Matt just vacated. The residents liked Lou, but Diane found the woman difficult to read. She only offered Lou the job when she found out how cheap she was. Even giving her and her father free accommodations, she still saved at least twenty percent in wages for a nurse with similar experience.

  Lou’s ministrations toward her father bordered on the saintly but that didn’t preclude Lou from also being a massive pain in the ass. Lou’s current expression foreshadowed a migraine inducing visit. She needed that promotion yesterday, she thought, and had enough of these middling complaints.

  “Someone is disturbing the residents,” Lou said and waited for that to sink in. “I don’t want to point fingers...”

  Diane frowned. “But you are going to anyway?”

  “The patients are my responsibility,” Lou said and shifted forward in her chair. Diane narrowed her eyes and hoped her expression might deter Lou.

  “This isn’t a hospice, Lou, and every resident is responsible for themselves,” Diane said, noticing her expression did nothing to stop the conversation from happening.