Gridlocked Guesthouse (Locked House Hauntings Book 1) Read online

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  CHAPTER FORTY

  CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

  CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

  CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

  CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

  CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER FORTY-NINE

  CHAPTER FIFTY

  CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE

  CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO

  CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE

  CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX

  CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE

  CHAPTER SIXTY

  CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE

  CHAPTER SIXTY-TWO

  CHAPTER SIXTY-THREE

  Free Story

  Landlocked Lighthouse Excerpt

  GRIDLOCKED GUESTHOUSE

  Mixi J Applebottom

  Copyright © 2016 by Mixi J Applebottom

  All rights reserved.

  This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Printed in the United States of America

  First Printing, 2016

  ISBN 978-0-692-73595-4

  www.MixiJApplebottom.com

  Beware of renting any haunted buildings.

  Love, Mixi

  CHAPTER ONE

  Before we get started, I have to tell you, the parking was ridiculously atrocious.

  It was downright awful.

  Jenny wedged her little green Volkswagen bug between the two cars already jammed in the short driveway. She pulled the little leash out of the glovebox. Before she opened the door, she checked her lip-gloss. Pink and perfect on her pouty little lips. She was twenty-two years old, and excited for the fun. This weekend was gonna be bananas.

  She opened the green door, but it was pressed so tightly against Ricky's blue Ford truck that she couldn't possibly escape that way. She tried the passenger door, but no, it was too close to Rachel's little red Subaru.

  A little white nose pressed into her armpit, and she found herself wondering what exactly she should do. The nose wriggled harder and finally she relented, scratching between the little white ears. Immediately, another jealous nose pressed its way into her hands. "Guys, I have to figure out how to get out of this car and park." Finally, she came up with a plan, and I have to say, it was quite brilliant. She backed up slowly and rolled down the window. She put the car into neutral and got out, leaving both of her pets in the car. She pushed it carefully, and the little bug slid back into the spot. She could barely scoot her skinny butt between her car and Ricky's truck.

  Jenny grabbed her purse and the leash through the open window. "Come on, guys!" Both little goats jumped out of the window, onto the hood of Ricky's car. If she had been thinking, she would have taken them out before this maneuver. She clipped the Y-shaped leash to both collars and then frowned. "I guess I didn't think out how to close the window." She glanced at the three cars parked tightly in the narrow driveway. I'm sure she was wondering where everyone else would park.

  Mike drove up with his ancient conversion van. It was a dirty brown, either from dirt or from a hideously ancient paint job. She watched him park, firmly holding the leash of her prized possessions. They still stood on Ricky's truck, staring at that massive brown van. Mike slowly pulled it forward and backwards, parallel parking behind the three cars. They'd all be blocked in now.

  He didn't have enough room. I'm not even totally sure how he got that giant conversion van to fit. It was basically a three-hundred-point turn, his van scooting back and forth between two concrete planters. It'd sure be a bitch to leave. No other way to slice it. But there was no other way to park and keep his van off the road.

  Finally, when he stopped the car for good, the van popped open like a clown car and eight people climbed out. This was the bulk of the party right here. Jenny didn't know most of them but waved at Mike. He was tall with broad shoulders. "Hi! Couldn't wedge it in there any closer, could you?"

  "Well, I didn't want to be sticking out on the road," he muttered back, clearly annoyed at the grumblings from the poor passengers awaiting his parking. "So this is the place, huh?"

  Jenny grinned. "It's quite a sight to see, isn't it?"

  They both turned and stared at the faded green painted exterior of the large house. There was a wooden sign painted with the word Guesthouse. No other label was on the building.

  "So this is where they died?" Mike said, suddenly standing closer to her. She whirled around startled, her tight cowgirl jeans snug against her skin.

  "Well, in there somewhere. Do you think we'll make it all weekend in this place?"

  "Of course we will. What else could we do? Besides, nobody can leave unless I move my van, and I ain't telling anyone where I've got the key." He grinned and winked at her playfully.

  "We did get thirteen people here, right?"

  "Nine of us, and you makes ten. Let's hope Ricky or Rachel brought someone."

  CHAPTER TWO

  Despite being able to see Ricky in the window, the door was oddly stuck. I don't think the house particularly wanted another set of guests. Mike tried it again, yanking harder, and the house seemed to groan with anticipation - excitement or fear, who could tell? But then the door gave way with a loud pop and a whirling dusty swirl danced out the door.

  Ricky bellowed hello loudly, seemingly unaffected by the dust. Mike himself was holding back coughs and thumping his chest.

  "You guys just gonna stand there or come inside?" Ricky hollered happily.

  And they went in, even the two white goats, pulling on their leashes. The foyer held a staircase with two doors, one at each end of the room. They started the tour by taking the door to the right.

  "Here is the library, this is where..." Before Ricky could continue, Rachel burst in. Tiffany was behind her, but all eyes were on Rachel.

  She was wearing her usual get-up, only it seemed more fierce today, a long white crocheted hippie shawl and a silver headband in her long brown locks. Their normal curly mess had been straightened and it made her look even more intense th
an normal.

  "This," she whispered dramatically as if she was on stage, "is where the lady of the house died. Can't you feel her watching us?" I certainly could.

  The room was quiet, all thirteen college students listening and looking. The furniture was still intact, though draped with white sheets. It was hard to tell what each piece was. Could be a piano or a couch or perhaps a set of chairs...

  Mike wondered if everyone else thought Rachel was a bit crazy. It wasn't even dark yet. He guessed this was how the whole tour would go. They stepped through the library and into the kitchen. Everyone was whispering in hushed tones as Ricky continued.

  "The kitchen!" he bellowed like an angry cow. He pointed over the little bar seating area to the dining room. "The dining room is where the twins were hung."

  "How old were they?" The voice was almost a whisper and Mike turned to see a very nervous Beth glancing at the ancient iron chandelier.

  "They were thirteen," Rachel cooed with a soft tone to her voice, spinning suddenly, her white shawl twirling open. She was a dramatic one. "Come along; we have to see the rest!" She stepped out of the dining room into the next room. It was a crowded push through the doors, the twelve of them anxiously touring the guesthouse. The hallway was crowded. There was a small pantry with a set of stairs next to it, and Mike nearly stumbled down them, with so many people pushing through the little hallway. Finally, they stepped into the grand room. It was an oversized living room with a large brick fireplace. "We don't think anyone died here," Rachel said with a hint of dismay. "We'll call it the safe room. And–" She paused to dramatically yank the white sheet from a large thing. She probably intended to finish her sentence, but the wild jerking of the sheet caused so much dust to fly into the air that all thirteen of them started coughing. A huge stuffed bear was revealed, his fur ragged as if he had been stabbed repeatedly before he was stuffed.

  Ricky shouted, "Rachel, come on. Seriously." He stomped out the remaining door and they were back full circle to the stairway at the front of the house. Everyone trudged up the many steps without much fuss.

  Rachel pointed with an annoyed tone to the four rooms. "Master bedroom has a bath, twins' bedrooms, and then that one is the bedroom for the other two children. And a bathroom. There you have it." She frowned but before anyone else spoke, she pointed again. "Master bedroom; that's where he died. Twin's room; that's where the boy died. They never found the little girl."

  Beth mumbled and stared at the room that used to hold a small boy and girl. "Does that make this room a safe room too?"

  Rachel stopped pouting and sprang back to a bright smile. "Absolutely not. There was blood everywhere, and I think it might be one of the more haunted rooms of the house."

  "What makes you say that?" Mike said. The others were already opening doors and wandering in and out of the bedrooms.

  Rachel, never one to like a question, snorted, "Because I can feel them, you idiot."

  And that was the tour of the guesthouse. Not one of them mentioned that they didn't go in the basement.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Together, they had carefully opened windows and taken sheets of dust outside. The room was almost breathable. An hour later, the whole house was swept and aired out. All of the sheets were carefully folded and placed in a large empty chest they found at the foot of the bed in the master bedroom. It didn't feel haunted.

  Jenny tried to remind herself that it wouldn't be any fun to stay the weekend in a haunted house if they didn't enjoy at least one spook. Nobody went in the basement. But finally, it was starting to grow dark. They gathered in the safe room. The room had plenty of seats for them, especially when they borrowed three chairs from the dining room. Jenny sat in the rocking chair, her two goats still leashed to her. They were resting by her feet like they often did at her own house. Mike, Beth, Ben, and Tiffany sat on the ornate red couch. Rafael and Lucy had taken over the love seat. Zane and Mikaela, twins, sat next to each other in dining room chairs.

  Rachel and Ricky sat in matching armchairs at one end of the room, like the king and the queen. John sat on the floor, and Beezer sat on a little wooden stool he had found.

  Rachel began, as everyone knew she would. "For the next two days, we will live here, in the guesthouse where the Jamisons were murdered. We will not go in the basement; all of you know this, but it bears repeating."

  Ricky continued, "We managed to get thirteen of us here, and I'm not sure you all know each other yet, but it's a friendly group and I'm sure we'll all have met by morning."

  John piped up, "If we make it till morning!" Everyone let out an excited chuckle.

  Rachel glared at John. "I'm sure you all know the story. In late May 1972, there were four children and two adults in this house. We know that the lady of the house, Amelia, died in the library. She was mutilated in many ways, but the most striking thing to remember is the word written on her. Presumably, she wrote it herself with her own blood as she died. The word was 'grid.' We are here to hopefully get her to tell us what she meant by that word." She paused melodramatically, leaning back into her chair with her fingertips pressed together. Her attempt to cherish the moment was immediately ended as Ricky took over.

  "Amelia wasn't the only death. We are also here to find out what happened, if we can. If they will tell us." Ricky calmly gestured to the spirits that hopefully were in the room. "Richard died in the master bedroom. He appeared to have frozen to death slowly; he had been coated in ice. He didn't have any words written on him--except that his death was utterly impossible. He could not have frozen to death in this house in May. It wasn't even cold enough outside for him to have frozen. He'd have to have been locked in a freezer. And yet, when the cops finally broke into the house, they said they could see the cold steam billowing under the door. They thought it was copious amounts of dry ice, but upon opening the bedroom, they found Richard frozen, the room frozen, and no clear evidence of how the room got so damn cold."

  Rachel broke back in loudly, clearly wanting the attention back on her. "But the twins were a different story. They died tied with a set of double-dutch jump ropes." She calmly motioned tying a rope around their throats. "They were thirteen. A boy and a girl. Delilah and Trevor. Their hands and feet were bound; they did not hang themselves. Their sister Lillian has never been found. I'd like to remind you again at this point that we cannot go into the basement."

  Ricky grinned and said, "There is one more. Oliver. He was four at the time of the incident. His death is one of the most insane ones that have occurred on this side of the Rocky Mountains. He had been peeled like a banana."

  The room was quiet, but it seemed to somehow grow quieter.

  Rachel, with her smug little face, said, "Well, any questions?" You'd never guess who piped up.

  Beezer, who had seemed to be bored through this whole thing, finally said, "So, does this party have rules or do we just start exploring? Or what?"

  There was a vague snicker passed through the group as Rachel's face fell. "It's not fun if we don't pretend it's real. We've got cocktails in ten minutes, then we'll feast on pulled pork sandwiches at ten, and start the séance at midnight."

  "I guess I have a question," Beth said, raising her hand slightly and then plopping it back on her lap. "What's with the goats?"

  Everyone turned and looked at Jenny. "Oh, um," she said, a hint of embarrassment rising in her throat. "This is Cletus and Carson; they are twin goats. And they'll add to the atmosphere. They can do this--"

  And with that, she suddenly stood up as if to run and stomped her feet loudly. Both goats stood suddenly and let out a little "baa" as they fell over stiff as death.

  Beezer let out a guffaw. "Fainting goats? They'll get ya every time. God, that's funny."

  A surprised giggle rumbled around the room. "How long will they stay like that?"

  "Not too long." A moment later, they started wiggling again. Jenny continued, "I'm sure they'll faint plenty these next few days, so let's not try to make it unreasonably of
ten- it's a little hard on these guys." She reached down and petted both goats gently. They were pretty small critters. Tiffany got off the couch with Ben, Beth, and Mike. She plopped herself between both goats at Jenny's feet and started petting them.

  "Well, now that we've got this done, we can start cocktails." Rachel rose and stepped into the kitchen.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Beth slipped into the kitchen to help Rachel. "Do you know everyone here?" she asked.

  Rachel unwrapped a large block of ice, carefully setting it in the punch bowl. The ice was dotted with fruit and ice cream. "Pour that champagne in the bowl, okay?" Rachel turned and grabbed some vodka, dumping it in the bowl as they worked.

  "Is there somebody here you don't know?" Rachel said dismissively as she opened the fridge.

  "I don't know anyone besides you and Ricky," Beth said, fumbling with the top of the champagne bottle. She wasn't quite sure how to open these things.

  Rachel pointed. "On the loveseat, Lucy and Rafael. They've been dating a while and can't keep their hands to themselves. Beezer is on the wooden stool. His name is John Beezer, but we all call him Beezer." Rachel turned around with her arms full of Tupperware containers. "Oh, give me that; you turn on the crockpot."

  Beth halfheartedly smiled and set the champagne bottle down, turned the crockpot up, and helped to set up the fruit. "Sorry."

  Rachel shouted to the other room, "Hey, Tiffany, can you give us a hand? It's gonna take forever."

  The skinny blond girl from the other room walked in. Her pants were low and her bare midriff was so thin it was amazing she could hold anything up at all with those barely existent hips. She calmly set out glasses and started stirring the champagne and strawberry punch. Beth seemed like a clumsy mess next to Tiffany. She fumbled with the crockpot, wondering why it didn't turn on. Finally, she realized it wasn't plugged in. She picked up the pot full of delicious smelling pork and hesitantly stood, still holding it.

  Tiffany finally looked up from her idle stirring and slow filling of gorgeous champagne glasses. "Um, whatcha doing?"