The Ninth Floor
Authors: Liz Schulte
By Liz Schulte
THE NINTH FLOOR
Copyright © 2013 by Liz Schulte
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This book is a work of fiction. Any names, places,
characters, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination and are
purely fictitious. Any resemblances to any persons, living or dead, are
completely coincidental.
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CONTENTS
Praise
for Liz Schulte’s Mysteries
The blank white door loomed in
front of me. I reached for the handle but clenched my fingers into a fist
instead of touching it. I wasn’t giving in. Sagging against the wall, I knocked
my ex-boyfriend’s jacket off the hook. The garment puddled on the floor,
bringing tears to my eyes. When did everything fall apart?
“Open the
door, Ryan,” Briggs yelled from the other side of the door.
I shook my
head, though he couldn’t see me.
“You can’t
keep my things hostage.”
I squeezed my
useless fists until my knuckles turned white. “You want your crap, give me back
my dogs.” Briggs Burke had been my boyfriend for the better part of a decade.
We met at eighteen and were pretty much inseparable since then—until he left
me. Sid and Nancy were gorgeous black and tan German Shepherds we bought when
they were puppies, and when he left he took them with him, leaving me with
nothing but the material items in our apartment. I closed my eyes and softly banged
the back of my head against the wall.
“Damn it. Be
reasonable.” He sounded so close that my heart cracked and bled.
“You should’ve
taken your things when you left the first time, Briggs.” My voice was quiet and
lacked the malice I wished I felt.
“Ryan …” His
tone immediately matched mine. He was always so good at pacifying me.
“Are you going
to tell me why you left?” I waited. Silence—the root of all breakups. If we
could talk or even argue about whatever had set him off, we might have a
chance, but the silence between us left me empty. My jaw clenched. There was no
way in hell he was getting in here tonight. “You can have your stuff when you
return the dogs. Until then, do what you’re good at. Leave.”
I walked away
from the door as his hand pounded into it. I flopped down on our—make that
my
—couch
and put on my headphones. If Briggs didn’t want to talk, then neither did I. If
he was okay with throwing away seven years without a word about why, what could
I do?
I picked up my
nearly empty carton of ice cream and spooned another heaping bite into my
mouth. I used the cuff of his sleeve to wipe the stray tears from my eyes. My
music paused as my phone rang. I glanced at the caller ID before answering.
“Hey, Audra.
How’s Paris?”
Audra was my
best friend. Maybe my only friend that wasn’t a friend Briggs and I made as a
couple. We also met in college, but she’d worked in Paris since graduation, so
our friendship was mostly over the phone and Internet these days. “Magnifique,”
she said. “How have you been?”
“Fine,” I
mumbled.
She paused and
then sighed. “You’re still moping, aren’t you?” She tsked at me. “Get off your
couch, go out, find a rebound. Briggs wasn’t all that great—and you’re young,
beautiful… You have a ton to offer. He’s an idiot.”
I pressed my
lips together, fighting off a fresh urge to cry.
“You’re
wearing his shirt and eating frozen yogurt, aren’t you?”
“Ice cream.”
“It’s worse
than I thought. Think of the empty calories.”
I rolled my
eyes.
“You can’t
live like this,” she continued. “Come to Paris before your ass gets any fatter.
You’ll be all, ‘Briggs who?’ I promise.”
“I can’t just
go to Paris. I have a job.” It wasn’t an important job. I wrote obituaries and
wedding announcements. I could be replaced in a matter of hours, but to me it
symbolized something larger. Independence.
“Fuck your
job. You’re an heiress living in a shitty apartment. How does that make any
sense? You don’t need it.”
I rubbed my
forehead. I didn’t want my family’s money. Audra never understood that. “It’s
not that easy—”
“Yes. Yes, it
is. Call your dad. Get him to write you a big, fat check, and come hang out
with me. It’ll be like old times.” She waited a moment. “And it’ll get you out
of this funk. If you want, you can find another menial job here—or you
could—gasp—use your trust fund.”
“Yeah, right.
Not going to happen.” It was a point of pride that I’d never touched the trust
fund that came available to me on my twenty-first birthday, and Audra knew it.
However …I did have some savings. Maybe enough saved up to last a couple months
in Paris if I crashed with Audra. With a job there, who knows how long I could
stay…
“You’re
considering it. Don’t think too much about moving or you’ll talk yourself out
of it. Just do it, Ryan. For once, be impulsive.”
I nodded. “Let
me check how much plane tickets cost.”
Audra squealed
and I visualized her jumping up and down, which made me smile. I opened my
laptop and began researching ticket costs. Paris was probably the last place on
earth I should go, but then again, what better city was there to get over a
break up in?
My phone
beeped, signaling that I had another call. “Hold on a sec.” I flipped over the
other call without looking at it. “Hello?”
“Ryan. It’s
your mother.”
My newly born
excitement vanished. Mom had that way about her that just sucked the fun out of
everything. “Hello, Mother.” I had successfully avoided talking to the woman
for the better part of two years. She never called me. No one in my family did.
So why now of all times? It figured the one time I let my guard down, she’d
sneak in. I refocused my effort on finding the best deal possible. “What can I
do for you?”
“Augusta is in the hospital.”
She was the
only person I knew who called Bee by her given name and it sent chills down my
spine. I sat back against the couch. Aunt Bee was more like a mother to me than
the woman on the phone. “Is she okay?”
“She doesn’t
appear to be.” Only my mother could say that in the same tone she’d use when
dropping off her dry cleaning. Ah, who was I kidding? Like my mother ever dropped
off dry cleaning.
“How bad?” I
tugged on my ear and leaned my elbows against my knees.
“Nothing to
worry yourself about. Your father will take care of everything. I only called
because Augusta insisted. You know how dramatic she can be. Something about you
being her executor, which is ridiculous. How’s Briggs doing?”
Everything in
me settled, and I knew beyond a doubt what I had to do. “I have to go, Mother.
Take care.” I hung up without waiting for her goodbye. If Aunt Bee was in the
hospital, I sure as hell wasn’t leaving her at the mercy of the Sterlings.
“Hello,” a
voice called out from my abandoned phone. “Ryan, are you there?”
I scooped it
up. “Audra, I’m so sorry. That was my mother. Bee’s in the hospital. I can’t
come to Paris. I have to go home.”
“The ninth floor is haunted. No
one is allowed up there. If you cross the threshold, evil seeps under your skin
and rots your guts from the inside out. Not quick neither—a slow painful death.”
I looked away
from the wild-eyed gaze of the emaciated woman in the bed next to Aunt Bee. A
thin smile stretched across my face as I tried to pretend everything was going
to be okay for Bee, who was massaging her temples.
“Evil.” The
determined loony wouldn’t let it go. “The dead live there and they hate the
living. Want to kill us all. They’re doin’ the devil’s work. They are—”
“Good morning,
Mrs. Scott,” a wide-hipped, bubbly nurse said from the doorway. Bee
straightened, and I stood up, glad for the distraction. “Dr. Sadler should be
in soon. I’m just here to get your vitals.” The nurse closed the blue curtain
between the beds, but the ranting carried on.
“Death. Death
will find us all. Only accepting Jesus can save you. The devil lives in Goodson
Hollow.”
“Now, Miss
Simpson, you quiet down. Let this poor soul get some rest.” The nurse smiled
sympathetically at my aunt.
“Can we get a
private room?” I asked, tapping my foot as if the clicking of my shoe could
drown out the woman who believed in ghosts.
The nurse
shook her head. “All the private rooms are taken, but Mrs. Scott is on the
list. When one comes available, it’ll be hers.” She spoke with a slow drawl
like sap running down a tree. I’d forgotten the meandering pace and laid back
attitude of Goodson Hollow.
“Great,” I
said under my breath. I couldn’t believe I was back here of all places.
I was wrong. Paris wasn’t the last place in the world I should be—Goodson Hollow was. I hadn’t returned
for longer than a summer vacation since my parents had carted me off to
boarding school. Unlike Bee, I felt no connection to the town. It wasn’t home
to me. During college, I found jobs over the summers and visited rarely. In the
group of backstabbing snobs, who were my relations—the Sterlings—my mother’s
sister was the only one I considered family. Bee wrote me every week—had since
I was sent away. And she came to visit regularly—much more than I could say for
my so-called parents.
“I should go
check on the store,” I said when the nurse left. I hadn’t been in the room
long, but already it felt suffocating. I needed an occupation. Something to
keep me focused and not thinking. Bee’s diagnosis hit me like a train. Liver
failure. My mind had been stuttering ever since.
“You’ll miss
Dr. Sadler,” she said, a muted twinkle in her increasingly yellow eyes. “I really
want you to meet him.”
Bee was the
first person I told when Briggs left me. She was of the same mindset as Audra,
so I had little doubt as to why she wanted me to meet her doctor. I kissed her
forehead. “There will be other times to meet your doctor. I’m here to take care
of you. Starting with getting your store open again.”
“The store can
wait.”
“How long have
you been in here? A week? And no one’s looked in on it, have they? If the store
isn’t open, you aren’t making money. I need to see what we’re dealing with.
Then I’ll hire someone to work there when I can’t.”
“But you just
got here.” She took my hand. “Stay and talk to me for a while.”
“I’ll be back,
promise. I just want to get an idea of what needs to be done. I’ll take care of
everything. Don’t worry about a thing.”
I made it out
as fast as I could. No matter what anyone thought, the last thing I needed was
a cute, single doctor. As I waited for the elevator, my foot tapping again with
excess coffee energy, a man walked up and stood too close, also waiting. I
pointedly moved away from him, focusing my stare elsewhere.
I’d run my
stuff by Bee’s house and then head back into town to check out her clothing
store. I could be back at the hospital by lunch.
