Benedict Waffle (The Diner of the Dead Series Book 12) Read online

  There were nods from everyone in the room.

  “Fantastic. Now, one last thing, since this is a Haunted Lantern Tour, we will be going into some very dark and cramped spots throughout the hotel. Since I’ll be the one carrying the lantern, make sure you keep as close to me as possible. Don’t fall behind and don’t go exploring on your own.”

  Turning toward the table behind herself, she pulled a black cloth off a lumpy object, revealing a Victorian style lantern. Carefully, she struck a match and lit the lantern. “Now, I’m about to turn off the lights in this room. When I do, I want all of you to say the words lights out with me. Got it?”

  Everyone agreed silently.

  Stepping up to the switch, she put her hand up. “Okay, everyone together now. Three, two, one.”

  In unison, the group declared “Lights out” and the room went dark.

  * * *

  The first part of the tour covered the main floor of the hotel. The spiritual hotspots included the ballroom, the bar, the restaurant’s kitchen, and the lobby.

  Heading to the ballroom at the end of the hall first, they were introduced to the ghosts of a couple who had visited the hotel every year throughout the late eighteen-hundreds. The legend said that the couple, now long dead, still returned every summer for their annual vacation. They were most often seen dancing alone in the ballroom around four a.m. “So, if you hear music down here in the middle of the night,” Rebecca said, “now you know why. It’s just the Feldman’s having a late night dance together.”

  Next was the bar, where a man supposedly had drunk himself to death and planted face first on the counter. The room—especially in the low lantern light—appeared as if it belonged in the old west. It even had a painting of a naked woman just behind the counter. “Sometimes, this particular ghost likes to steal drinks when you aren’t looking. If you’re having a nightcap this evening before bed and you realize your glass is suddenly empty, and you don’t remember drinking it, then it’s probably our cork popping ghost just paying you a visit.” She smiled and cast the lantern light over the old wood of the bar. “But the hotel does not offer free drinks or compensation for drinks consumed by ghosts.”

  The tour grouped laughed at the little joke and followed Rebecca as she guided them into the restaurant. “This overlook didn’t always have the glass enclosure you see now. It used to be an open-air dining room for summer parties.” She then proceeded to talk about how one of the cooks had thrown himself from the balcony after finding out his wife was leaving him. “But you won’t ever find him here in the dining room, usually he likes to spend his time in the kitchen.” She wiggled a finger, indicating everyone to follow her into the kitchen.

  “Throughout the years, we’ve had many employees and guests here who have claimed to smell something cooking, even when no one was in the kitchen. There are even a few stories of our morning crew finding food missing, or even whole plates of prepared food—still warm to the touch—sitting on the counter when they open up for breakfast.”

  “This is so neat,” Ally whispered to Sonja as they moved through the kitchen. “Don’t you just love stories like this?”

  “It is pretty cool,” she admitted, surprised to find herself enjoying the tour so much. Most of all, she was happy that she hadn’t seen a single ghost yet. She could just enjoy the spooky stories like everyone else. Even if she did happen to see a ghostly dancing couple or a long dead chef preparing a meal, what harm could it do?

  Next, they made their way out into the lobby area. “Now, this is a fairly new addition to the tour,” Rebecca announced. “And probably our newest ghost.” She walked over to the row of historic pictures. “Our very own hotel manager and owner, Mr. Amos Brakston, was found mysteriously dead here in the lobby one night. The next day, his very own brother vanished into thin air. Some believe he threw himself from the balcony. Others believe he was murdered and his body parts hidden throughout the entire hotel. To this day, no one is sure what happened to him.”

  Sonja shuddered as she thought of this story. Had Amos really been murdered? Did that mean the murderer was still wandering free around the hotel? Was his brother’s body parts really hidden in walls and floors throughout the building?

  “Pretty gruesome, huh?” Ally commented.

  “Let’s just hope there aren’t any beating hearts or crawling hands hidden in our suite,” Sonja joked.

  “Now, it may seem in poor taste to include our dear Amos here on the tour, but it was in his will that he wanted to be included in the ghost tour after his death—and he made sure it happened.” She motioned to a picture. “Occasionally, guests have seen him wandering the lobby or standing on the grand staircase. On other occasions, he is seen from one of the fourth story windows, watching as guests walk in and out.”

  This new part of the story interested Sonja the most, as she remembered the face she’d seen staring at her from the fourth floor. Pushing forward a little in the group, she got a closer look at the picture of the deceased hotel manager.

  She gasped as she realized it was, in fact, the same man she’d seen staring from the window earlier that day.

  CHAPTER 6

  * * *

  Sonja wondered if Amos Brakston had been the one to leave a message in their mirror earlier that day. If so, why had he said to save her? Did he mean Rebecca, and if so, what possible connection could he have with the young tour guide? Sonja knew he could just as easily be a confused spirit trying to communicate in any way he could.

  Trying to not let her curiosity—and potentially her imagination—get the better of her, she focused on the tour itself.

  Rebecca took them up to the other floors, going in between rooms and describing which ones had supernatural activity inside.

  It turned out the fourth floor had once been the place where all the hotel staff would stay with their families. “Sometimes you can still hear their children running back and forth through the halls, playing games with one another,” the tour guide explained, holding the lantern up close to her face so it cast eerie shadows.

  Eventually, the group came to the bottom of the stairs leading up to Sonja and Alison’s suite and stopped.

  “Now, the room at the top of these stairs used to be a favorite of Amos Brakston’s.”

  Sonja audibly gasped at this comment and part of the tour group turned to look at her.

  “S-sorry,” she whispered. “That’s our room.”

  “Well, then. Maybe you will get a visit from Amos himself,” Rebecca embellished the story with a serious voice. “Since Amos’ passing, a few of the guests have reported strange messages appearing in the fogged-up mirrors after running the jacuzzi in the bathroom.”

  Ally let out a quiet squeal of excitement and squeezed Sonja’s arm. “That’s what we saw,” she whispered.

  Sonja let out a sigh of relief. It seemed more and more likely that the message in the mirror had been randomly planted by hotel staff as a part of making the experience more exciting. It would be just too much of a coincidence not to.

  “All right folks, we’ve seen most of the haunted sites throughout the hotel so far,” she paused, dropping her voice lower, “but we’ve saved the best for last. This way.”

  Turning, the group followed the guide back down the staircase and into the lobby. They then walked behind the grand staircase where another small stairway led down into the basement. They all trudged down the steps and into the room below. “If you didn’t know already, we have a second bar down here as well as a pool hall.” She motioned toward both. “But we aren’t down here to play pool.”

  She pointed the way and walked over to a large metal door in the corner. “Through this door is the catacombs of the hotel.”

  “Oooh, the catacombs,” Alison whispered excitedly. “It’s just like a horror movie.”

  “Shhh,” Sonja ordered, sincerely interested in hearing the story.

  “We save this part of the tour for last because the ghost in here is one of our most sinis
ter and dangerous.”

  The whole group leaned in, eager to hear what was coming next. “Many people may not know this, but this hotel has a history of twins. Many of the staff members who worked and lived here ended up having twins at some point, and more than a few of the owners of this hotel over the years have had a twin. Well, one of the hotel’s earliest owners was a man named Santana Green, and as luck would have it, he had a twin brother, Gilgamesh. Well, these brothers didn’t much care for each other and Santana forced Gilgamesh to always work down here in the catacombs alone. The story has it that he was sort of the black sheep of the family, so no one else ever said a word about him being down here. Well, one day there was a cave in inside the catacombs and Gilgamesh died. Santana didn’t shed a single tear for his brother and never even bothered digging out the body.”

  This time Ally gasped. “That’s horrible.”

  “Yes, ma’am it is. It is believed that he is still down here to this day, his bones just rotting. However, he is waiting to take his revenge on any living being who spends too much time in the darkness of the catacombs.”

  “Spooky,” Alison mumbled.

  “Now, we’re about to step into the catacombs for a moment together just to see if we can feel his presence there. If any of you are too frightened, now is the time to turn back.”

  Rebecca paused, waiting for anyone who wanted to wait outside. One or two older women volunteered to stay behind.

  “Should we go?” Ally whispered.

  Sonja mouthed “Of course” to her friend.

  “Very well,” Rebecca announced. “Please step this way with me.”

  Using a small key in the lock, Rebecca undid the latch. Opening the large metal door, a grating squeak echoed through the halls. Slowly, all the tour guests filtered into the small cramped entryway. The floor was rocky and uneven and the walls were more like a cave. Crevices and tunnels in the rock—both small and large—seemed to go off in various directions.

  Sonja shuddered to think of getting lost in there.

  A few dull light bulbs hung along a running wire from the ceiling.

  It felt considerably damp and cold compared to the rest of the building, forcing Sonja to pull her sweater tighter around her body.

  Once everyone was through, Rebecca shut the heavy door behind them and re-latched it. “Now, these catacombs actually stretch out farther than just the hotel itself. These were once used by hotel staff to get to and from the carriage house and other areas around the grounds. Over the years, a few other staff have gotten lost in here and weren’t found for a number of days. So please, whatever you do, do not wander off to explore on your own. You will sincerely be disappointed.”

  Sonja felt Ally huddle up close to her, and she welcomed it.

  “Now, legend has it, if you blow out a lantern while here in the catacombs, it attracts Gilgamesh.”

  Sonja had a good idea what was coming next.

  “Now, I’m going to blow out this lantern and then we are going to wait a minute or two to see what happens,” she smiled broadly. It was clear that Rebecca enjoyed this part of the tour the best. “We won’t be in total darkness thanks to these minor emergency bulbs that are always burning.” She pointed at the dim lights. “However, when I first turn out the light, it will appear very dark for a few seconds while your eyes adjust. Please do not panic and do not head for the door. When we are ready, I’ll relight the lantern and lead you back out. Got it?”

  Everyone nodded, some of the group clearly spooked.

  “Ready? Say it with me as I blow out the lantern. Three, two, one.”

  Together, the tour members said the words lights out.

  Just as Rebecca blew on the lantern, extinguishing its light, there was a strange and unexpected pop accompanied by a small flash of light. Not only did the lantern go out, but so did all of the emergency bulbs as well.

  There were a few frightened cries and a couple of laughs.

  “That’s not supposed to happen,” Rebecca muttered.

  That’s when Sonja spotted it, the floating white face hanging behind the tour guide. Everything else was pitch black except for that floating face, and it was so pale and translucent itself that you could hardly see it.

  Ally let out a shriek as she saw the face as well.

  Instantly, there was a pained groan and the thud of a body.

  Turning on her phone, Sonja clicked on the flashlight function and illuminated the room. The ghostly face was gone, but seemingly so was Rebecca.

  “Wow, that was spooky,” Alison admitted. “They sure know how to put on a show,” she laughed.

  But Sonja wasn’t listening. She was pushing toward the front of the group. As she got close, she realized that Rebecca was laying on the floor of the catacombs—a knife sticking out of her back.

  All the women began screaming.

  CHAPTER 7

  * * *

  “It’s locked,” one of the women screeched. “The door out of the catacombs is locked. We’re trapped in here.”

  “Hold on, hold on,” her husband grumbled, his face a little pale. “Let me try.” Stepping forward, he pushed and pulled on the handle, grunting the entire time. “She’s right. We’re locked in.”

  “Didn’t the tour guide have the key,” the woman moaned, “Someone has to get it.”

  “I’m not touching a dead body,” another woman defended herself.

  “No, no,” Sonja ordered. “We can’t touch the body, not until the police get here.”

  “I-I’m not staying in here,” she shrieked. “He’ll kill us all. Gilgamesh.”

  “Not if I can help it,” another larger man announced, charging at the door and desperately pulling on the handle. “I’ll break the darn thing open if I have to.”

  “Now will everyone please just calm down,” Sonja urged. “It’s only a matter of time until someone comes and finds we’ve been locked in. Until then we have to just sit tight.”

  “Do we really have to?” Alison asked in a quiet voice, crouching nervously down to the floor.

  “This is still technically Frank’s jurisdiction, isn’t it?” Sonja reminded her, stepping over and squatting to be close. “So, Frank is going to want to handle the murder.”

  “A-are you sure it’s murder? It isn’t part of the ghost package?” her friend asked sincerely.

  Sonja shook her head. “No, this is not part of the regular tour.”

  “Oh, no, no, no,” Alison whispered. “This can’t be happening.”

  “Just stay calm.”

  “Maybe she dropped the key when she fell?” Alison offered.

  “It’s possible,” straightening up, Sonja looked the group over. “Does anyone see the key in the dirt somewhere? Maybe she dropped it?”

  The group members took a few moments to look around at their feet, but no one saw the key to the door.

  “Okay, let’s all just sit tight for a few minutes.”

  “H-how can you be so calm?” Alison asked her friend.

  “I’ve dealt with dead bodies before, remember? And so have you.”

  “No, not like you. I don’t help my boyfriend solve murders.”

  “Okay, maybe just try taking a seat on the ground,” she suggested. “I don’t want you passing out or anything.”

  “O-okay,” Ally agreed, sliding from her crouch to a full sitting position. “Sit with me?”

  Sonja agreed, taking a seat.

  Soon, most of everyone had sat down, trying to keep themselves calm more than anything else.

  Sonja kept her light on the entire time for everyone’s benefit. She tried to hold it steady but eventually just decided to set it down on the ground. Lowering the phone to the floor, she couldn’t help but notice something sitting in the dirt and slightly smoking.

  That’s when she recognized the familiar smell of gunpowder. Directing her phone’s light at the item in the dirt she tried to figure out what it was. Burnt pieces of red casing surrounded some ash.

  She realize
d it was a miracle no one had stepped on it. It was a freshly spent firecracker, but what did that have to do with what happened?

  She was about to gently pick it up when the click of the metal door’s lock disengaging drew everyone’s attention.

  After a minute, the door creaked open and revealed Mrs. Brakston standing there. “What’s going on in here?”

  Sonja stood up. “Call the police, Conney. Rebecca’s been murdered.”

  CHAPTER 8

  * * *

  The gray clouds that had been threatening the hotel and its residents all day long finally delivered its payoff and a heaving rainfall began to coat the mountainside in sheets of water. The entire tour group was all confined to the ballroom for the time being until the police could arrive.

  In the few minutes since the door to the catacombs was opened, it had grown considerably chillier, and the large and only semi-lit ballroom had taken on a creepy atmosphere—almost like the inside to a large mausoleum.

  Sheriff Frank Thompson arrived about an hour and a half later, just before midnight, stepping into the lobby in a long brown trench coat that was soaked through and dripping a little river behind him as he walked.

  “Sheriff,” Mrs. Brakston exclaimed, wringing her cold, nervous hands together. “Thank heaven you’re here.”

  “Where is the body?” he asked, slowly unbuttoning his jacket.

  “Down in the entrance to the catacombs,” she informed him.

  “And it’s been sealed off? No one in or out since the murder?”

  “That’s right. I followed your instructions to a T.”