Haunted Renovation Mystery 1 - Flip That Haunted House (4 page)

A small brick two-story office building sat
straight ahead as I wheeled into the parking lot. Only a few cars
sprinkled the pavement, so I navigated my Volvo into a space right
up front. Obviously, the workers filed out with reckless abandon at
five on the dot. By the looks of the deserted area, I may not get
my key tonight. At the least, I would leave a note instructing Mr.
Cooper to give me a buzz. Pronto. Whether he would call or not was
the million-dollar question.

I reached into my purse, searching through
receipts and used gum wrappers and finally found a scrap piece of
paper. I scribbled a quick note, stuffed it in my pocket, then
jumped out, making a dash for the building as a chilly breeze flew
by. Fallen leaves covered parts of the sidewalk, explosions of
color leading my way to the entrance. Situated in a somewhat rural
area of town, a mini business district, the office suites backed up
to a densely wooded area. The wind carried the smell of damp soil
to my nostrils.

Once I reached the entrance, I blew through
the door, bringing with me a few fallen leaves scattering across
the floor. My steps echoed as I walked down the long corridor and
up the narrow stairway onto the second floor. The creepy silence
and the steel-gray walls made the space feel cold and harsh.
Identical dark wood doors lined the hallway. The only thing setting
them apart was different names on each door. I stopped and looked
from side to side. There wasn’t a directory, so I had to look at
every door as I walked past. I just wanted out of there. The
silence was freaking me out. What if I was locked in the place
overnight?

A light blinked at the end of the hall,
threatening to quit at any moment. I’d be locked in a dark building
all night. No thanks. The door marked
Cooper Development
Inc.
was on the right, halfway down. I was thankful I didn’t
have to go all the way to the end. I’d leave the note and get the
heck out of there.

I rapped on the door. It creaked on its
hinges as it inched open.

“Mr. Cooper?” I called.

No reply. Did he have a habit of leaving his
door unlocked and open?

“Mr. Cooper, it’s Alabama Hargrove, I forgot
my key.”

Still no reply. Very odd. More than ever, I
wanted out of there.

I eased myself in and stopped for a moment
to allow my eyes to adjust to the darkness. As I scanned the area,
I made out the corner of a desk and file cabinet. A hint of light
from setting dusk streamed through a small sliver of space in the
window blind, casting light onto one tiny spot of the room. I
blinked, trying to adjust my eyes further when I noticed papers
sprinkled haphazardly about the floor. Not a very good filing
system.

“Anyone here?” I asked again.

I stepped over a couple of the papers and
inched further into the space. Being in his office, in the almost
dark, didn’t feel right. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it, but
something was off. Nerves settled in the pit of my stomach. A faint
rustling noise caught my attention and I froze. I held my breath
and listened. Did the noise come from the hall? A mouse or a
person? What the heck was I doing in there? I decided to put the
note on the desk and get out. When I glanced at the lit corner once
again, I discovered
it
—a hand draped limply on top of the
desk. I couldn’t distinguish the whole body attached to it, but it
was there, a shadowy lump.

“Who’s there?” I called out.

My heart raced as I inched my way toward the
huge desk and spotted the silhouette of a man slumped over in the
tall leather chair. My hand flew to my mouth as I gasped. I felt
the blood rush out of my face and my stomach turn. I knew I
shouldn’t have come here. Papers littered the desk just as they did
the floor and other items rested in a disorganized state.

“Are you all right?” I asked into the quiet
room. Papers crunched under my feet as I made my way to the desk.
My breathing was loud. I sounded like a train.

No response.

“Hello, Sir?”

It sure didn’t look like he was sleeping.
How could I help him if he needed it? With my finger, I nudged the
man slightly. Still nothing, not even a snort or snore. Please let
him be asleep. With every ounce of courage I had, I leaned in
closer, placed my hand on the man’s neck, and searched for a pulse.
No pulse. Hells Bells. I screamed. Something warm and sticky
covered my fingers.
What do I do now?
I gazed down at my
hand. It was covered with blood. Dead. The final frontier. I
cringed as I wiped my hand on my pants. I felt woozy.

My hands shook. I stumbled backward. My
vision blurred and I struggled to breathe. The coppery scent from
my hand smacked me in the face. My mouth felt as if it was stuffed
with a bag of cotton.

Time stood still as the room seemed to spin.
I wanted no part of this. The police needed to come right away.
Snapping out of my daze, I turned on my heel to get the heck out of
there. As I pivoted, my ankle twisted and I fell flat on my face.
The carpet burned my cheek, but that was the least of my
worries.

I scrambled across the floor and struggled
to get away from the morbid scene, shoving the papers on the ground
out of my way. Visions of the corpse flashed through my mind—bent
over and motionless. After what seemed like an eternity, I crawled
forward, my knees slipping on the papers as if I were crawling over
ice. I’d probably left my DNA all over that room. I prayed he
killed himself, otherwise how would I explain being in there. I
reached up, grabbed the doorknob, and pulled myself up in the now
completely dark room. On wobbly legs, I knocked the door out of my
way and ran for my life. My feet couldn’t move fast enough.

My steps echoed off the walls. The only
other sound was the pounding of my heart in my ears. As I rushed
out of the office—bloody hand and all—my mind raced. All I wanted
was to flip a darn house, now I’d discovered an honest to goodness
dead body. I stumbled down the stairs trying not to join Mr. Cooper
in the hereafter as I navigated the dimly lit corridor. The stairs
seemed narrower as if they were closing in on me. My feet felt
heavy as if I wore concrete shoes. The only light was a faint cold
fixture high above the stairway. When I reached the exit, nothing
had ever looked so good. My heart thundering in my chest, I lunged
out the door. As I sprinted down the sidewalk, I reached for my
cell phone. Remnants of blood still on my hand, I punched in the
numbers.

My heart thumped and I struggled for air.
Adrenaline had set up camp in my body. I needed to calm down and
get a grasp on the situation. Instead, I screamed like a crazed
lunatic. The vision of the body was burned into my eyelids. At
least at the funeral parlor the body looked like someone was just
sleeping. But this guy wasn’t taking a siesta.

“Nine-one-one, what’s your emergency?”

“A dead man,” I screeched as I clutched the
phone, getting it bloody.

My car was still a couple hundred feet away.
It was like a beacon in the night.

“Calm down, Ma’am. What’s your name?”

“I’m trying to stay calm, but there is a
dead man in there, blood on my hand and…Oh my God. I can’t
breathe.” I gasped.

Why wasn’t she freaking out like me?

“I need your name, Ma’am.”

“Alabama.” I panted. My legs moved faster
than I thought possible. I’d never felt more alone. If only Lacey
was with me, although I wouldn’t want to put her through this kind
of ordeal.

“No…your name.” Frustration tinged her
words.

“My name is Alabama Hargrove. Can you please
send the police?”

“How do you know he’s dead?”

“What? I felt for his pulse, that’s
how.”

I made my way across the pavement to the
car. My hands shook as if I had downed about ten espressos. I
struggled with the door and climbed in, then fumbled and locked the
doors. My good old Volvo served as my shelter—my refuge. All that
kept me from a world suddenly turned upside down was my metal
jalopy. Not reassuring, but it’s all I had. I studied the world
outside my safe haven. A few leaves swayed with the wind, but
otherwise, it was peaceful. The exact opposite of the way I felt on
the inside.

Somehow, the operator calmed me enough to
get my location and anything else she needed.

“The police are on their way,” she said.

I hung up the phone and all I could do was
wait. Left to sort through the rapid thoughts in my mind. The sun
had set and darkness covered the area. The only light was the eerie
yellow glow from a street lamp in the distance. My hands clutched
at the steering wheel and I reminded myself to breathe. Seconds
after hanging up the phone, I noticed movement out of the corner of
my eye from the side of the office park. I glanced back. A shadowy
silhouette ran from the edge of the building. A dark mask covered
the person’s face. At least, it looked like a ski mask. Only eyes
and mouth were visible. Even more suspicious, the person appeared
to be dressed all in black. The masked mystery person sprinted to
the wooded area and disappeared into the darkness as if swallowed
by a black hole.

The killer. Was that the killer? Was Payne
murdered?

My throat felt tight. Goose bumps broke out
on my arms.

All right, I didn’t know if Payne Cooper had
been murdered. He may have committed suicide, for all I knew. Or,
maybe an accident? Until I had answers, I needed to take deep
breaths and relax.

Where the heck were the police? Any other
time they’d be here. When I forgot to add coins to the meter, they
were there. Leftover lood from my hand covered the steering wheel
and my phone. I grabbed napkins from my purse and wiped my hand
again to remove the rest.

Had the person been in the office when I
discovered Payne Cooper? I shuddered. What was taking the police so
long? I glanced at my watch. They’d find my strangled body
discarded in the middle of the parking lot before long. A killer
may be on the loose and I would be an easy target. I contemplated
driving off, but that wouldn’t look good in the eyes of law
enforcement, I’m guessing. They’d think I’d killed Payne Cooper.
Or, at the very least, was somehow involved. The thought of
spending twenty-to-life in prison for a crime I hadn’t commit
didn’t sound appealing. Eating soggy bread with an
indistinguishable meat substance, along with making license plates
was not on top of my professions-I-want-to-try list. But, if I
didn’t drive away, the assassin may annihilate me. Shadows lurked
behind every tree. I was paranoid. Was the murderer watching
me?

I envisioned the killer hiding behind a
tree, waiting for the perfect time to pounce.

Before I had a chance to contemplate his
means of murdering me, a loud pounding on the window reverberated
through the car.

“Holy mother…” I jumped, hitting my arm on
the steering wheel.

My eyes widened. I screamed as I stared at a
man in a black uniform. A bewildered look spread across his face. I
knew the killer would come for me. Now he stood beside my car,
pleading with me to open up and let him in. No way. I shook my
head. I should have hightailed-it out of there when I had the
chance.

“I’m not ready to die,” I screeched. “I’ve
called the police. So step away from my car.”

Icy-cold eyes glared at me.

“Ma’am? Ma’am?” He pecked on my window
again. “Are you all right in there?”

“Go away, creep. I have a weapon and I’m not
afraid to use it.” So what if I didn’t have one, he didn’t know
that.

He flashed the insanely bright flashlight in
my eyes.

“Beat it, I said.” I gestured with my hand,
trying to shield my eyes. “What do you want?” I shouted.

“I noticed you sitting here and heard you
screaming. It’s my job to make sure you’re all right.” He yelled,
his voice coming through the glass, loud and clear.

“Who are you?” I asked.

He lowered his flashlight and I blinked to
regain my vision.

“I’m the custodian for the building. I came
by to lock the place up.”

“There’s a…dead man in there,” I stuttered
and motioned toward the building. My body shook as I relived the
event again.

“You saw a dead man in there?” He looked in
the direction of my pointing finger. His face scrunched into a
frown.

Before I answered, sirens blared, growing
near. Within seconds, police cars descended on the area. Lights
flickered wildly like a nightclub light show. I clawed at the door,
fumbling to unlock it. When the door swung open, I almost knocked
the custodian down, and ran for my life. I raced toward the officer
who approached. Thank goodness, I was saved.

“You called the police?” His gaze moved the
length of my body.

“Yes.” I panted. “Second floor. The office
with the open door.”

He opened the door to his cruiser. “Have a
seat, Ma’am. I’ll be with you in a minute.” He ran toward the
building, joining the horde of officers. I didn’t want to be alone
again. Being there, in the darkness made, me feel vulnerable. The
police officers attention was focused on the crime scene and I was
left to wonder who was out there just beyond the dark trees. Police
surrounded the area like a swarm of locusts. A few set out into the
wooded area and others searched the perimeters with flashlights
exploring the ground. The rest went into the building.

As I sat shaking in the police car, a few
spectators gathered behind the yellow crime scene tape draped
across the parking lot and around the building. I’d been there for
at least forty-five minutes and wondered how much longer I’d have
to wait. I’d watched the police come and go as I fidgeted in my
seat.

After another few minutes slipped by, an
officer in a too tight, blue uniform sidled up to the police
cruiser. He propped his arms against the car and leaned in close.
His paunch protruded over his waistband. I longed for a breath mint
to shove in his mouth. He pulled out his notepad and scribbled down
a few notes.

“My name’s Chester Bass, I’m the sheriff.”
His voice was cold.

“Alabama Hargrove.”

He didn’t offer a handshake. No
pleasantries.

His dark eyes narrowed as he studied my
face. Fear danced in my stomach. He made me even more nervous,
which I hadn’t thought possible. I wanted out of the car and away
from this place.

“Tell me everything, Ms. Hargrove. What are
you doing here at this time of day?” His gaze on me didn’t
falter.

“I came for keys.” I muttered.

His brow lifted. “Keys?”

I nodded.

“Did you know the victim?”

“Well… yes, I did. Sort of.” I looked down,
then picked at the torn leather on the seat. His stare made me
uncomfortable. He reminded me of my creepy sixth grade P.E.
teacher.

“Which is it? You knew him or not? It’s a
straightforward question.”

“I bought a house from him today and I came
to pick up a key.” Finally, I met his gaze.

“Did you kill him?” Resolve covered his
tone.

“What?” My mouth gaped open. “No. Do I need
an attorney?” I frowned.

So, he was murdered. I knew it. But did the
police suspect me?

“I don’t know, do you?” He scribbled in his
notebook again.

What was he writing in that thing? I leaned
over, but couldn’t see what he wrote.

“Am I being arrested?” My voice
faltered.

“No.”

Thank heaven for small miracles. “It feels
as if I am.”

“What did you touch?” he snapped as he
glared at me.

“The body.” I felt sick. Why had I touched
the body? “I was checking his neck to see if he had a pulse.”

“Did he?”

“No, he didn’t. That’s when I called the
police.” I shuddered.

He frowned, finished writing, and flipped
the notebook shut.

“I’ll need you to come by the station and
sign a statement.”

I nodded. “Of course.”

He whirled around to walk away, but stopped
and turned. “Why’d you wait until closing time to come get a
key?”

“The bank forgot to give me one earlier and
I just realized I didn’t have it.”

In my opinion, Sheriff Bass was surly and
suspicious. He need not look at me as the killer.

“Is that blood on your hand?”

The remnants of crimson paste had dried. I
nodded. “A little.”

“Not good.” He shook his head.

“It’s not?” Maybe I did need a lawyer.

He didn’t answer my question, but instead
said, “Just sit tight for a bit, okay?” He ran his fingers through
his greasy hair and gave me a look of pompous annoyance. The man
didn’t know any expression other than a scowl.

“I’m not going anywhere.” However, from the
looks of the current situation, I may go to jail. I prayed I
wouldn’t end up at a small table, sitting on a hard chair with a
bright light shining on my face, playing their intimidation
game.

I leaned back in the hard seat and took in a
deep breath. I felt numb from the life-changing experience. Police
swarmed the scene like bees over honey, moving back and forth from
the building. A few stood in groups, talking. The scene wasn’t as
glamorous as they depicted on TV. The van marked
Coroner
pulled up beside the ambulance and my stomach turned, again. They’d
bring out the body soon. I wouldn’t look at it again. I
couldn’t.

More gawkers milled around, trying to catch
a glimpse of the action. A news station van sat on the street near
the parking lot—the reporter desperately tried to cross the barrier
and get the scoop, but police held her at bay. Her brown curls
bounced as she moved from side to side looking for her chance to
slip past. A young detective stood with the custodian next to tall
magnolia trees on the edge of the parking lot. They glanced my way
several times.

Perhaps I did jump to conclusions a wee-bit,
but I was under a lot of stress. How was I supposed to know
he
wasn’t the killer? I lowered my head into my hands and
closed my eyes, willing myself away from the entire scene. How much
longer would they keep me? I felt like just sneaking away. With all
the action, they wouldn’t notice. They’d arrest me for sure if I
did that, though. Footsteps approached. I snapped my head up and
scanned the area.

Tears welled in my eyes. I tilted my head
back and wiped my eyes to keep the moisture away. I had discovered
a dead person. Not the end to the day I had expected. My body felt
frozen from the trauma as if an ice storm swooped in leaving me
immobile. The lights from the cars swirled, making me dizzy. The
mixture of leather and body odor in the car made me want to gag. I
caught a glimpse of my face in the side mirror of the car as the
unforgiving blue glow glared across my face. I stared at my
reflection. Streaks of mascara smeared down my face making me look
like a raccoon. Police walked past, staring at me. Were they
blaming me for the murder? Judging me?