Page 7 of A Haunting at Keystone Manor

I exit my room with trepidation and try to follow the noise. It leads me down the ever-winding corridor of the east wing. One could almost get lost in here. I turn a corner and find myself looking down another hallway, one that dead ends about ten feet in front of me. There is nothing here but a door to the attic. I let out a squeak and quickly cover my mouth. I am not about to get axe murdered. You’re already dead. I try to calm my nerves by reminding myself of that. Before I can work myself into true hysterics, I hear another loud bang, and the attic door bursts open. Brandon Sinclair stumbles out, landing with a loud thud at my feet.

I screech. “MOTHER FUCKER! Brandon? What the fuck are you doing in the attic? You’re not supposed to be here still! The manor is shut down!”

He stands up, dusts off his pants and shakes a bit of insulation out of his shaggy blond hair. It doesn’t look like it’s ever met a brush. I try not to smirk at his tie-dyed shirt with a giant pot leaf on it. Of course.

“Chill little dude, I’ve been secluded. I’m on a writing retreat. What did I miss?” Standing straight, he’s about a foot taller than my five feet and a quarter inch. Yes, the quarter inch counts. God dammit, why am I cursed to have to look up at everyone? I glare at him.

“I don’t know how to tell you this, dude, but you’re dead. Is your carcass in the attic?” I ask, maybe a bit rudely. But this guy is testing my patience. I have murders to solve and a hotel to run.

He looks at me quizzically. “Um, not to get too philosophical with you dude, but I’m not dead. My spirit has never felt more alive. This retreat has been the best thing that has ever happened to me!” He gives me a dopey smile. “I’m almost finished with the first draft of my book! How cool is that? I’ve been working on it since I was eight. Hey, do you mind if I light up in here?” He pulls a blunt from behind his ear and looks at me expectantly.

“I’m sure you have a best seller on your hands.” I dismiss him with a wave. “What do I care if you smoke in here? We’re dead. No one will know.”

He lights his blunt, takes a drag and blows a puff of smoke my way with a laugh. He’s got a good smile. Not as nice as Jake’s. I think I’m staring a little. “Have you been toking up too? Must be some good stuff.” He passes me his blunt, and I stare at it for a minute before I shrug. What, I’m dead. I can indulge, can’t I? I reach out to grab it, and my hand falls right through his. What the fuck?

I gasp. “You’re not dead! How can you see me?”

He shrugs. “I dunno. How can we ever really see anyone, you know? Hey, are you good, dude? You look a little pale.”

“I’M DEAD! Deceased! No longer on this mortal coil! Jake’s dead too! No one else can see us. How the fuck can you see me?” I demand.

“Who’s Jake?” he asks, blowing out another puff of smoke. He leans against the wall and puts his foot up behind him for balance, the epitome of calm.

“Oh my god, I don’t have time for this.” If Brandon really is alive and can see us, we have a solid connection to the living world. This is huge. I glance at Brandon again. Well, maybe. “Follow me.”

“But what about my writing retreat?”

“Fuck your writing retreat! We need to find Jake. Now!” I yell and make a mental note to ask him later just what the fuck he was doing in the attic.

Chapter five

Meetings

Jake

Fuck my life. Or fuck my death, I guess. I can’t believe I’m actually dead. I don’t remember what happened, but the last thing I remember is Andrei. I used to think he loved me, once. I was a naive kid, and he used that against me. By the time I wised up, he already had me trapped, and as my father's right-hand man, there was no getting away from him. Kind of like the tiny guy that has followed me like a shadow since I’ve been back here. I’ve only been able to see him since I died, but I bet he was perving on me before that too. Little stalker. The thought almost makes me smile. He’s cute, not that I’ll ever tell him that.

I should be flattered that he wants to help me, but impotent anger flares in me at the thought that nothing we do will matter because we have no one to communicate with. If Andrei is the reason I’m dead, he’ll get away with it. He specializes in brutality and lacks a moral compass, which makes him an asset to my father. He’ll do anything he says. I wonder if my father put him up to it. I don’t want to believe he’s capable of having me killed, but there is only one thing my father loves.

Money.

He makes a lot of it, and I threatened his empire by running from him, refusing to become his heir. To the outside world, he’s the epitome of the American dream. He built a successful financial management firm from the ground up and made a place for himself in high society with his philanthropical endeavors. Rich people will throw a dollar at anything if they think it will convince others they’re doing something good for the world. If only they knew. I wanted to make a life for myself that was legitimate and outside of his control.

Good job with that. If my father was behind my death, no amount of investigating will matter, because he has the police on speed dial. The two that came by to collect my body are probably on his payroll.

Before I can sink further into my depression, Alex opens my door. I holed myself up in a room in the north wing of the manor, hoping he wouldn’t find me. I should have known he would eventually. For a second I wonder how he was able to get it open, but there’s a guy standing behind him I haven’t seen before, looking a little awkward. I look at his hand where it’s resting on the doorknob. He must be alive. But that’s impossible, right? Despite myself, my interest is piqued.

Alex must see the questions on my face, because he says, “Oh, this is Brandon. He isn’t dead but he can see us. He’s going to help us solve your murder! And maybe mine too. Isn’t that great!” He looks so hopeful, and I can’t have that.

“I thought I told you to go away,” I say with as much derision as I can muster, though I don’t feel it. His face drops for a second, but he is a stubborn little shit. It will take more than a few glares and harsh words to get rid of him.

Brandon steps up to the bed I’m lying on and holds out his fist for a bump, a short blunt hanging from between his ring and pinky fingers. “Hey dude. Um, Jake, right? Nice to meet you bro. Well, I guess not so nice for you, being dead and all.” I stare at his fist blankly for a second before he apparently realizes that I can’t touch him. The fist falls back to his side, un-bumped. Tragic.

“I’m in the middle of something,” I say. “If you would please find someone else to bother, that would be great.” I wave my hand to the door, hoping they’ll take the hint and leave.

“No can do, bro. We have a murder to investigate,” Brandon says excitedly. “This is gonna be amazing research for my book!” He takes a long drag of his blunt.

Alex and I both groan.