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

by Dominika Waclawiak

  “Dads. Dads, it’s all OK. Just the old hotel making noise. Go back to sleep,” she said, her voice cracking. He turned towards her and all she could see where the whites of his eyes.

  “Are you awake? Can you hear me?” she asked but he stayed silent, his eyes never wavering from hers. Her worry overrode her own fear and propelled her out of bed. She started towards his bedside just as the thumps ended. She froze waiting for the scream from last night, but the room stayed silent.

  She hurried to his side. “Let’s lay back down,” she said and he obeyed without comment. She lay down next to him and hummed an off-tune version of Imagine, the only thing that consistently calmed him. Dads closed his eyes within moments. She stayed with him until she heard his snores. Confident he was asleep, she tiptoed back to her own bed, frowning. The sleeping pills were no longer working on him.

  Lou Fairbanks’ hand shook as she pulled it through her disheveled hair and wondered if she’d made a mistake by coming here. As she’d lain in bed unable to sleep, she had almost convinced herself that Barney was right and that the ghost of Irene Lentz was haunting her and Dads. But, when she woke up this morning, reality set in and she concluded that maybe the pipes were that bad and there was a resident who desperately needed help in the building.

  She blinked against the light that filtered through the blinds behind Diane and tried to come up with the best way of broaching the subject with her. The glare behind Diane overcame her efforts and she shifted her gaze to the Home Decor magazine in Diane’s hand instead.

  “There’s something wrong with the pipes on my floor. More important, however, there’s a resident that I’m hearing through those same pipes that needs our attention,” Lou said and watched Diane’s expression change from annoyance to confusion.

  “What’s wrong with the pipes? Are they backed up?” Diane said putting the Home Decor down.

  “No, nothing like that. Sound is traveling through them and threatens our resident’s privacy. For the last two nights, I’ve been kept awake by a woman’s sobbing. I’ve checked the ninth floor and eleventh floor residents to find the woman who needs our support, but I’ve been unable to locate her. I’m thinking that maybe I need to broaden my search to more floors,” Lou explained. “But we need to fix these pipes. I don’t want people to hear what I’m doing in the privacy of my room, I can imagine our residents don’t want that either.”

  Diane shook her head. “Let me get this straight. You’ve been kept awake by a woman’s sob, and you think that it’s coming through your pipes? What pipes exactly?”

  “Maybe the vents then? Or the water pipes?” Lou said and realized how farfetched this whole theory sounded. They stared at each other in silence for a moment, and Lou felt her face heating up. Diane shook her head.

  “I’m beginning to worry about you, Lou. When was the last time you slept through the night? You look positively exhausted and how can you be doing your job properly when you’re running on fumes?”

  Lou sank lower in her seat and wished she’d never come. She knew she looked a bit rougher than normal, but she hadn’t expected Diane to question her ability to do her job.

  “I’m just very concerned about this depressed patient,” Lou said. “The sobbing is so raw, I’m worried that this woman might be suicidal.”

  “Have any of your patients exhibited signs of depression?” Diane asked.

  Lou shook her head and sat up, ready to leave. “No, just the usual phobias. I gave the residents on the two floors around me psych eval tests to make sure. Everyone appears normal,” Lou said and got up. “I’ll keep searching for the woman. I just wanted to bring this to your attention.”

  “I really don’t think it’s pipes, Lou, but if this keeps happening please come back and talk to me,” Diane said with such concern in her voice that Lou took a step back. Did she know about her anxiety? Had someone seen her passed out in the staircase after all? She’d done everything to keep it out of her medical records and if Diane knew, then everyone in this place would too. She blanched at the thought and backed out to the hallway.

  “I should go do my rounds. Thanks again, Diane,” she said and got out of there as fast as she could. She hurried down the hall unsure of what to do next. She agreed with Diane on one point, she needed to get a good night’s sleep. She couldn’t take the sleeping pills because of Dads, which left getting to the bottom of the crying woman. She didn’t see another way of getting her sleep back.

  What if Barney was right, though, and it was a ghost? After saying her theory out loud to Diane and realizing how nuts she sounded, admitting she might be haunted by a ghost wasn’t as farfetched as she first thought. She changed course and made her way to the cafeteria instead.

  Sure enough, Lou found Barney, Mary Ann, and Doreen back at their usual table, deep in conversation while Lauren gestured with excitement to some residents, several tables away from the main group. No one paid any attention to her as she made her way over to their table.

  “Hi,” she said with a mix of trepidation and excitement, “May I join you?” she asked, and waited until Doreen nodded before sitting down at the last remaining chair.

  Barney stopped talking to Mary Ann and turned to her. “You haven’t slept either, have you?”

  “No, I haven’t,” she admitted and gulped down the lump that hadn’t been there a second ago. “So if it is the ghost of Irene Lentz, what do we do about it?”

  “None of us slept a wink either,” Mary Ann confirmed what Lou could plainly see on all their faces. “I can’t keep going like this. I need my beauty rest,” she whispered and stole a glance at Barney.

  “Is it the same ghost then? Are you all hearing the sobbing?” Lou asked. Mary Ann nodded.

  “What we need to do is find out what she wants. I’ve called in some people I know,” Barney said. “It’s the only way.”

  “People?” Lou asked.

  “Ghost hunters. If we can make contact, we stand a chance at allowing her to pass and leave us in peace,” Barney explained.

  “Maybe we’ll stop dying in droves as well,” Doreen added with a raised eyebrow.

  “I can’t believe you’d say that, Doreen,” Mary Ann said, glancing over at Barney to check in on him.

  Doreen scowled. “Well, it’s what we’re all thinking, isn’t it?” she said in a huff as Lauren appeared at her elbow.

  “What are we all thinking?” Lauren asked and pulled a chair up to sit with them. Doreen scooted over, giving her some room.

  “That maybe these ghosts are the ones that are taking us all out,” she said and Lauren looked confused.

  “Take us out? I thought Babs was ruled a heart attack, like the others?” She looked around the table. “Wasn’t she? I’ve heard the rumors, but you can’t really believe them, can you?”

  “I highly doubt a ghost could muster up enough energy to kill someone,” Barney said dryly.

  Doreen banged her hand on the table. “What about this? The ghost appears to them, and they die of fright? That would cause a heart attack, wouldn’t it Lou?” She turned to Lou, expecting her to agree with her.

  “I’m sorry, Doreen but that condition is really rare. I don’t think that’s what is happening. Getting back to Barney’s point,” Lou said, “Who are these people who can talk to ghosts? A medium or psychic? I thought all those people were grifters?”

  “My friends know a legitimate medium,” Barney said, nonplussed. Lou shook her head at even entertaining such a crazy idea and felt as if she really lost her mind this time. She remembered the tortured sobbing and made up her mind. She’d see this through and if it was just a hoax, well, they’d all know and at least it would get Barney to finally shut up.

  “Would Diane have to give us permission for that?” Lou asked Barney and knew she’d said the wrong thing the moment the words left her mouth.

  Barney bristled. “We pay to live here. We don’t have to ask permission for every little thing,” he said, pushing back his chair and getting up.<
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  “I didn’t mean anything by—“ Barney cut her off with a snort and she fought hard not to slap him. He drove her crazy like no one else did.

  “I’m making the call. You can go tell Diane whatever you want,” he said and stomped out of the cafe.

  Mary Ann pushed back her chair with a screech. “He shouldn’t get upset like that… His heart,” she admonished all of them and bustled after him. Lou looked at Doreen and Lauren.

  “We’re all crazy right?” she asked, still trying to process what she’d just got herself into. “I mean, this can’t possibly work,” she added when they didn’t respond.

  “Not in the least bit crazy, Lou,” Doreen said with a gleam in her eye. “Whatever will bring us back our sleep, I say. Plus this is more excitement then we’ve had in weeks. Better than dwelling on all the death going around.”

  “What’s the harm?” Lauren added.

  “I suppose there isn’t any harm in it,” Lou said, unconvinced. What was the worst that could happen? Most likely, this medium was a charlatan and they would all have a good laugh. Maybe with the commotion of the ghost hunters, whoever was crying would come forward to get help. Lou smiled for the first time today. “Well, we’ll see what happens. I should go check on Dads.”

  “We will definitely stir something up, won’t we?” Lauren said and gave Doreen a pointed look. Doreen made another sign of the cross and sighed. Lou got up to go.

  “Will you get me when they get here?” Lou asked them.

  “You think they’ll come today?” Lauren’s eyes grew large as she checked in with Doreen.

  “Who wants to miss another night’s sleep? I sure don’t,” Doreen said in her matter-of-fact voice.

  Detective Eva Murphy pulled up to the Bockerman Hotel and thought it remarkable that she’d already forgotten the assisted living facility’s actual name. It didn’t help matters that its name was nowhere to be found on the outside of the building and that the massive vintage sign, spanning the width of the roof, proclaimed it The Bockerman. The city probably wouldn’t allow the owners to take the sign down as it was a fixture in the Hollywood skyline, she thought as she parked her unmarked car in the unloading zone, checked herself out in the rearview mirror and got out, her mind churning the facts of the case.

  When she stepped into the lobby, the first person she encountered was the security guard at the front desk, a man in his early thirties that had the shifty eyes of a teenager, barely close cropped hair, and a massive build hidden by his ill-fitting suit. She didn’t think a stranger to the facility was their perp and, seeing the setup, she all but ruled that theory out. She pulled out her badge and checked the man’s nametag. Hall, no first name. He didn’t make such a bad suspect himself, she thought.

  “Detective Murphy,” she said and held out her hand. He took it limply in his own.

  Keeping his eyes averted, he said, “Russell Hall. Everyone calls me Russ.” Murphy wondered if he’d had problems with the law in the past by his odd behavior. He didn’t seem to be the best candidate for a security guard either.

  “I need the security tapes for February 13 through last night, February 18. Diane Lawrence told me you’d be able to get them for me,” Murphy said.

  Russell nodded. “They’re in the room next to her office. Could you follow me please?” He turned on his heel.

  “Great,” Murphy said to his back and followed him into the darkened hallway. She didn’t think anything would go sideways, but she put her hand on her pepper spray all the same. She wondered what in the world Diane Lawrence was thinking when she hired this man in the first place. He didn’t instill confidence, and he wasn’t imposing enough to stop an intruder. He was your garden-variety creep.

  She couldn’t imagine the residents having much to do with him or coming to him with problems. Could Diane Lawrence have hired him on purpose to help her cover up these murders? He wouldn’t be someone to raise flags to the owners on the goings on in the place.

  Russell opened a door and stood aside to let her pass. She entered a room containing two tables with four monitors sitting on top of them and three whirring computer towers below. A stack of DVD’s filled the room’s only shelf. Each monitor showed a view of four cameras covering the front and back entrances, the main staircase and main elevator.

  “Does each DVD contain all four camera angles?” Murphy asked.

  “Yup. I’ve already made the first three. Diane, um, I mean Ms. Lawrence, asked me too. I just need to do the last night for you. It shouldn’t take too long,” he said and sat at the lone chair in the room.

  Murphy leaned against the door. “Great, mind if I ask you whether you were on duty the night of February 15?”

  “I was,” he mumbled.

  “All night?”

  “My typical shift is from 6pm to 6am.”

  Murphy closed the distance between them. “Do you do rounds on the floors or do you stay down in the lobby the entire time?” She kept her tone conversational.

  “I stay down in the lobby, keep my eyes on all the cameras and make sure none of the residents wander out overnight.”

  “Are they not allowed to leave the premises after a certain time?” Murphy asked, surprised.

  “They need to sign in and sign out. People can come and go, but they need to be lucid. No wandering off.”

  “I see. Did anyone leave that night?”

  “I need to check the log but I don’t think so.” Russell put in another DVD. “This is the last one,” he said over his shoulder.

  “Did you see anyone after 10pm?” Murphy prodded, and edged even closer to him.

  “This place is usually quiet at that time. I saw Ms. Lawrence leave around 8pm but…” He paused. “I don’t remember anyone else. Do you have any suspects yet?” he said, and swiveled his chair around holding four DVD’s. She took them and shrugged.

  You’re on the list, she thought. “Beginning days yet. We’re still gathering evidence,” she said. “How long have you worked here?”

  “Three years this April,” he said.

  “We’ll need a statement from you regarding your movements on February 18. I’m sure you understand how important the information is, Mr. Hall.” She smiled. “I mean, Russ.”

  He nodded.

  She left him sitting in front of the monitors and worked hard not to run out of there. She couldn’t wait to find out what that guy’s deal was and knew he had to be hiding something. Murphy got back into the car and called Larson. “Russell Hall, the security guard. My gut says he must have a record,” she said. “I’ll be there in fifteen.”

  By the time she got back to the station, Larson’s smile was as big as hers. “We have a live one. A good, ole Orange County family, Neo-Nazi style,” Larson started. Murphy flopped into her desk chair and grabbed the long printout from his desk.

  “Mr. Gerard Hall, Daddy Hall, that’s his record.” He motioned to the printout in her hand. “Lots of assault charges for the old man but nothing yet on Russell. He’s come close, but Daddy always steps in, and nothing has stuck.”

  “Was Barbara Monroe Jewish?” asked Murphy.

  “I have a call into the family. We could check some of the other mysteriously deceased patients’ families as well,” Larson offered.

  “I thought you weren’t behind the theory that the other deaths are connected?”

  “Better to cover all our bases, right?” Larson said.

  “How can we talk to Daddy Hall about Junior?”

  “He’s in lock-up at County awaiting his trial date. Know anyone at the Sheriff’s department?”

  Murphy nodded and picked up the phone. “Larry, hey, it’s Murphy over at Hollywood.”

  Murphy and Larson sat across from a hulking skinhead, tats covering ninety percent of his body including his skull, in a barren interrogation room. I would not want to meet the likes of Daddy Hall in a dark alley, Murphy thought.

  “Why am I here?” Daddy Hall rumbled.

  “We want to talk to you abou
t your son, Russell Hall,” Larson started.

  “Is he OK?” The hulk leaned forward, his eyes filled with worry.

  “He’s fine. Is he part of your gang?” Murphy asked.

  “He has nothing to do with my gang. He’s straight,” Daddy Hall said, crossing his arms over his massive chest.

  “What about the assault in Fullerton in 2000?” Larson said.

  “That was me and some of my boys. Russ wasn’t even there.” Daddy Hall stood up. “I don’t need to talk to you.”

  Murphy looked up at the hulking man and put on her best smile. “There have been murders at the Bockerm— I mean, the assisted living facility he works at. We just want to make sure he wasn’t involved.”

  “My son is no murderer. He’s a security guard there for chrissake. He was always too weak for our kind of life. He is NOT your guy. Guard, we’re done!” he yelled over his shoulder. The interview was over.

  Sara Caine parked her car in front of the Bockerman Hotel and marveled at the dusky light that washed all of Hollywood in a pinkish, purple glow. She loved the contradictions that Los Angeles possessed. The atmosphere now made the city soft and romantic compared to the usual harsh, bright light of day that called to mind The Day of the Locust or something written by Raymond Chandler.

  She had arrived on time but, knowing the boys, they would be late. She got out of her car and paid the meter. Should she wait out front or...she looked up and down the street, unsure. She lucked out meeting Fredrick on a job a couple of years back and although the job turned out to be a hoax, they had kept in touch over the years. Every ghost hunter wanted access to the once world renowned Bockerman Hotel and she had no idea how Fredrick finally got permission from the company that ran the place to go inside it.

  Famous for the movie stars that stayed at the hotel in its prime, the Bockerman stayed famous for the supposed ghosts that haunted it. Sara doubted that she’d see Marilyn Monroe or Rudolf Valentino today, but she was thrilled Fredrick invited her along for the ride. She smiled when she saw the white van pulling up to the curb with Fredrick behind the wheel, and waved hello. The van door slid open and William, a scruffy cameraman wearing a photographer’s vest filled with all sorts of electronic equipment, jumped out of the passenger’s seat.