Ice and Steel Read online

  PEEPs Lite 9.2

  Ice and Steel

  A Haunted Series novella

  by Alexie Aaron

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  ~

  Bought by Maraya21

  kickass.so / 1337x.to / h33t.to / thepiratebay.se

  Copyright 2014 – Diane L. Fitch writing as Alexie Aaron

  ALSO BY ALEXIE AARON

  HAUNTED SERIES

  in order

  The Hauntings of Cold Creek Hollow

  Ghostly Attachments

  Sand Trap

  Darker than Dark

  The Garden

  Puzzle

  Old Bones

  Things that Go Bump in the Night

  Something Old

  Coming Spring 2014

  The Middle House: Return to Cold Creek Hollow

  PEEPS LITE

  Eternal Maze 3.1

  Homecoming 3.2

  Checking Out 9.1

  Ice and Steel 9.2

  CIN FIN-LATHEN MYSTERIES

  Decomposing

  Death by Saxophone

  Discord

  In my lifetime I have encountered many bright and zesty age-enhanced people. They have openly shared their experiences with me, setting my imagination on fire. I dedicate this novella to all who see crossing sixty not as a sentence, but the beginning of an adventure.

  And to my family, who put up with my long hours of typing, talking and pondering. They have done so with grace and humor. I couldn’t do this without them.

  Table of Contents

  The Doorman

  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

  Alexie Aaron

  The Doorman

  “Careful, Mrs. Abrams, the steps are a little icy,” the doorman warned. “Here, take my arm…”

  “Nonsense. I can manage, Albert. I haven’t made it eighty-five years on this earth by being mollycoddled,” Maude Abrams declared.

  Albert Jones smiled indulgently and wasn’t upset in the least by Mrs. Abrams’s independence. He did, however, follow the woman close enough to catch her if she did slip on her way to the taxi he had called for her.

  Maude allowed Albert to open the door of the cab for her. This was just good manners. Albert was the best doorman the Uptown Senior Living Condos had had in a decade. He was attentive without being smothering. He was prompt, and when he could not produce a taxi in a timely manner, he apologized as if rush hour was his fault. Maude had tried to curb him of this habit of apologizing for others, but he was as resistant to change as she was.

  Albert watched as the taxi drove away with the feisty widow. She was one of the few residents of the luxury seniors-only condos that stayed all winter. Most headed to places warm; Chicago’s winters were not for the thin-blooded or the arthritic. Maude Abrams was made of sterner stuff. Plus, she admitted to him, “I look horrible in shorts. Why would I want to put myself through four months of that?”

  Albert liked his job as the daytime doorman for the condo complex. He didn’t mind the crankiness of some of the dwellers of the lakeside high-rise. He had been raised by his very difficult grandmother, which prepared him for the demands of some of the older residents. He didn’t take offense at their complaints. He knew that the noisy ones were just feeling a bit lost, and the controlling ones likely missed the power of the high level jobs that they had retired from. To live in Uptown you needed a hefty bankroll. Very few had inherited the wealth. Quite a few of them were former movers and shakers of the Windy City or their spouses.

  He stepped inside the lobby and took a moment to check out his appearance before resuming his vigil at the front desk. The handsome, tall black man reflected in the mirror looked stunning in the light gray uniform. True, he had put on weight in the last few years, but the extra thirty pounds were hidden successfully beneath the brass buttons of the double breasted overcoat.

  “Mrs. Abrams is one tough lady,” Elaine the receptionist commented.

  “You have to be to survive two bouts of breast cancer and three dead husbands,” Albert informed her.

  Elaine pushed a lock of brown hair back behind her ear. “Three husbands! No wonder the woman is so rich.”

  “Now, now, remember what Mr. Stewart said about speaking about the money of the residents. It’s vulgar and a security issue.”

  Elaine, who had previously worked for the Comcast Cable Company in customer service, didn’t really see the problem in discussing money. Most of her previous customers didn’t have any, or at least any to pay their cable bills with. She had grown weary of customer service and had decided to temp for a while when she was approached by Mr. Stewart to see if she may want to stay on full-time.

  “I hear you. I’ll be more careful, I promise.”

  Albert looked at the petite freckle-faced woman and smiled. Elaine Grinhold didn’t mean any harm. She was young and would grow into the job. Mr. Stewart hired her because she handled the complaints from the residents with a professional detachment. The Waterfords, who had caused four previous employees to quit with their spirited rants, didn’t seem to bother Elaine at all. She just took down their complaints and furthered the information to a staff member that could deal with their issue in a prompt manner.

  “Why do you stay here?” Elaine asked. “It’s not that you couldn’t find a better job with your references and education. Why be here with the old folks when you could work for the rich and famous downtown?”

  “It’s the old dears,” Albert replied. “They make working here so enjoyable.” He had picked up the phrase old dears from an episode of Midsomer Murders that he had watched with the Seeley sisters. He saw the Seeleys immediately as old dears and had used the term ever since.

  “Old dears! Here? I would say old crabs.”

  “Now, Elaine, you’re forgetting the Miss Seeleys, Rupert Moss, Enrich Beaufort and Mrs. Abrams. They are just a few of the old dears.”

  Elaine nodded. “Okay, you got me there. Speaking of the Miss Seeleys, they would like you to go up to see them when you take your break.”

  Albert looked at his watch. “I’ll have to wait for Mr. Stewart to come out and watch the door. Have you seen him this morning?”

  “Hung-over, but he’s here. I don’t know, Albert, I’m beginning to worry about our Mr. Stewart. Ever since his wife left, he’s been hitting the bottle.”

  “Have you smelt liquor on his breath?”

  “No, I think he only drinks at night, but in my experience, it’s only a matter of time before the bottles find a way to his desk. My father’s a drinker,” Elaine explained. “It’s a problem, but he can’t seem to quit for more than a few months at a time.”

  “I don’t think Mr. Stewart’s an alcoholic.”

  “Not yet, but if the man doesn’t get some help then…”

  One of the two elevator doors opened, stopping their conversation. Clive Stewart, building manager, walked out carrying his overcoat over his arm. He smiled at Albert. “I’m here to spell you. I understand the Seeleys are looking for you. Take an extra fifteen on the company. Consider it customer relations,” he said generously.

  “The steps are a bit icy. I put salt down
, but the air’s too cold for it to work,” Albert explained.

  Clive frowned. “Perhaps we ought to invest in a better way to keep the steps ice free.”

  “I doubt the condo board will okay the expense. After all, most of them winter in Florida,” Albert said, unbuttoning his overcoat and hanging it carefully in the small closet behind the desk.

  “I fear you’re right. I’ll see if I can strike up a deal with the building superintendent next door. Exchange a little of our excess pool supplies for his crew to burn the ice off of our steps?”

  “Sounds like an idea. I better get up to the sixth floor before the Miss Seeleys come looking for me,” Albert said, excusing himself.

  The elevator door opened to the sixth floor. Each floor of the building had its own personality. The sixth floor had four condos, the four units were all owned by women. The carpet of the sixth floor had been recently replaced and the walls repapered in peaches and greens. A nice console table held an expensive silk flower arrangement. Wicker baskets with peach colored bin liners sat under the long legged table. Albert had never seen any trash in the baskets, but the ladies insisted on the baskets being checked daily. They didn’t want their floor to be filled with litter.

  Albert walked down the hall to the Seeley condo. He tapped on the door and was surprised when it opened immediately. He was used to waiting a few minutes for the elderly sisters to make their way to the door.

  “Albert! Thank god you came,” Sissy Seeley exclaimed. “Naomi is in such a state!”

  The older woman grabbed his arm with both of her hands, pulling him into the plush apartment.

  “What’s this all about?” he asked as he followed her down the hall to Naomi’s sitting room.

  “It started a few nights ago. At first we thought it was the wind but…”

  “What started?”

  “The screaming.”

  “Did you call the police?”

  “Oh no. We don’t want to bother them.”

  “Miss Seeley, that’s what they are here for. To protect you and your sister.”

  “Sissy, is it safe to come out?” Naomi asked, peeking out of her bedroom door.

  “Albert’s here.”

  The younger of the sisters ran out of her room straight to Albert. He carefully held the thin trembling woman. “What’s all this? Why are you shaking?” he asked Naomi.

  She looked up at him and sniffed. “He’s coming for me. He’s coming to kill me!”

  “Who?” Albert asked confused.

  “My dead husband Ernest!” Naomi declared.

  Albert’s heart sank. Another of the old dears had aged into dementia. He would have to notify the Seeleys’ relatives. Sissy couldn’t possibly handle Naomi on her own.

  “See how he’s looking at me? I told you he wouldn’t believe me,” Naomi said to her sister. She released the hold she had on Albert and walked over to the small sofa and plopped down, despondent. “He’s thinking I’ve gone round the bend.”

  “No, give him a chance. This is our Albert. Give him a chance,” Sissy pleaded.

  Albert looked from one sister to the other and raised his hands. “Okay, you’re going to have to start at the beginning. Tell me about this screaming.”

  “Sit down,” Sissy ordered. “I’ve got the teapot brewing. I’ll just be a moment. Naomi, you tell him what you heard,” she instructed before she left the room.

  Naomi patted the cushion beside her. “Sit down next to me, Albert. You’re so tall, I’ll get a crick in my neck if I stare at you any longer.”

  Albert sat down and turned his body so he was looking Naomi in the eyes. “Now tell me, and don’t leave anything out. Perhaps it all can be explained. If not, I’ll get you some help,” he vowed.

  “My dear boy,” Naomi started, “what I wouldn’t give to have had a son like you.”

  Albert looked at the skinny, little white woman and laughed. “That would have been the talk of the yacht club.”

  Naomi tittered. “I’d be the talk of the town, that’s for sure.” Her face got serious. “First let me give you some background. I got married very young to Ernest Klutz. My father approved of the match only if I kept my maiden name. Ernest, who worked for Father, didn’t seem to mind at all. We had a happy few years until Ernest’s eye started wandering. I ended the marriage, and Ernest lost his job. We were too young to know what real love was. I moved in with Sissy, and we’ve been living with each other ever since. Now, don’t you frown, Sissy and I had lots of lovers and adventures. We just never wanted to settle down. Ernest moved on but never could find another job to suit him. After a few years, on my insistence, my father rehired him in the same position he’d left.”

  “That was very kind of you and your father. Your father sounds like a remarkable man,” Albert commented.

  “He was. I guess that’s why Sissy and I never found a man to settle down with. No one could compare to our father. He was stern but forgiving.”

  Sissy walked in pushing a tea trolley. “Naomi, don’t you go and make Daddy a saint because he wasn’t. But he was our hero.”

  “Now I know who Ernest is, was? Tell me why you think he’s trying to kill you?”

  “It started right after the new year. Emma and Beatrice had left for Boca Raton. Angela was already visiting her son in Houston. Normally we love being the only people on the sixth floor. We enjoy our privacy and don’t have to worry about how loud we have the television on. About three in the morning I woke up to hear a low moan. I dismissed it as air in the pipes. It happened before when we had those PVC jobbers put in. I got up and got a glass of water and went to the ladies room. Anyway, I came back, and no sooner did I lay my head down when a bloodcurdling scream filled the apartment! I ran to Sissy thinking she was having a nightmare, but there she was, meeting me in the hall thinking it was me doing the screaming!”

  “Why didn’t you call the police?”

  “I don’t rightly know. We should have. If it was a woman’s scream then we would have, but it was male. It moaned once more and then was silent. We stayed up another hour and then went to bed. The next day we tapped on the doors of the seventh floor. Only Mr. Davis was there, and he didn’t hear anything. There’s no one on five until after Easter, so that was that.”

  Several scenarios ran through Albert’s mind, but he kept them to himself, not wanting to frighten the Seeleys.

  “The next night, the same thing happened,” Naomi said. “This time the scream was right beside me! I confess to nearly wetting the bed. I got up to take care of myself. Sissy was pounding on my door. I was confused because I never shut my door at night.”

  “She doesn’t. Naomi never shuts her door unless we have company,” Sissy explained. “Not only was the door shut, but it was locked. We never lock an inside door. What if we fall down? How is help going to get to us through a locked door?”

  “I unlocked the door and received quite a lecture from Sissy. I waited until she was winded before I explained that I didn’t lock the door. We sat out here a while watching something on HBO. We turned the set up real loud so we wouldn’t have to hear the moaning. It stopped about four am.”

  “You poor dears,” Albert said. “Why didn’t you tell us sooner? Mr. Stewart will want to know about this. We will check out all the condos on five, six and seven, just to make sure no one’s playing tricks.”

  “I assure you, no one alive is playing tricks,” Naomi said, her voice hushed. “It’s Ernest, I know it.”

  “Why would Ernest haunt you?” Albert asked.

  “It’s because I killed him,” Naomi confessed.

  Albert reared back a little. He was surprised by this confession. “How, why?”

  “He came to visit a few years ago. Claimed I owed him money. He gambled his retirement account away and demanded I pay him a hefty alimony. I directed him to our lawyer Alan Jefferies - he’s a nice young man. Ernest seemed alright with that and left. Alan called and said that I didn’t have to pay him anything, that my father
before he died had left Ernest a small fortune, and I was under no obligation to pay Ernest anything.”

  “Ernest was a dog,” Sissy sniffed. “I told her to stand her ground. He would bleed us dry given the chance.”

  “I asked Alan to notify him, and he said he would. A few months passed, and Ernest showed up again pounding on the door.”

  “This was late at night, Albert. The old night doorman used to fall asleep on the job. It would have never happened if you were on duty. No one gets by you,” Sissy claimed.

  “I do my best. What happened when Ernest came here?” Albert asked.

  “Sissy let him in and demanded to know why he was there. He spat at her and walked over to me and held a fist to my face. He said, ‘You better give me some money, you old witch, or I’m going to the newspaper to tell them about what a slut you and your sister are.”

  “I have to admit I started laughing,” Sissy said. “We hadn’t had sex in decades, but we did have a lot of sex before,” she said, her eyes shining.

  “Sissy’s laughter enraged him further. I said, ‘Go ahead, tell the papers, but it wouldn’t be a scoop because Marjorie White had already included some of Sissy’s and my antics in her memoirs.’”

  “That made Ernest hopping mad. He started to pick up things and smash them. We lost a few vases but nothing that valuable,” Sissy reported.

  “He picked up the bronze Adonis and ran at me. I thought he was going to crush my skull with it. But he stopped and fell backwards, dead.”

  “He died from a stroke,” Sissy explained. “His blood pressure probably was off the charts. A clot entered his brain, and goodbye Ernest, hello corpse.”

  “How do you know this?” Albert asked.

  “The coroner’s report. Alan asked us to refrain from confessing to murder until the findings came in. Alan said we weren’t responsible, and the court agreed with him. It didn’t even make the papers, poor Ernest,” Sissy said.

  “Poor Ernest, nothing,” Naomi grumbled. “The asshole has been keeping me up for a week now.”