“Maybe not in the same way.”
“I see a brilliant green and orange python digesting a meal. You?” he asked.
“I see a big pile of crap being forced down a sewer pipe,” Mia said, eyes dancing.
“Oh gross,” Cid complained.
Mike shook with laughter. He had a hard time keeping focus and had to set the camera down for a moment. “Now look what you did,” he said. “Burt’s going to have a hard time editing my Blair Witch technique out of the film.”
“Ted should really come out and see this,” Mia said.
“Ted is seeing it,” Cid started to explain, “but he prefers computer language to…”
“Crap moving down a sewer pipe,” she finished.
Chapter Eleven
Millie and Paul stood watching the Dew Drop Inn as it fought to hold its position with the pull of the ley line. Mia approached them quietly, listening to their conversation.
“I don’t know why she is so stubborn,” Millie ruminated. “It’s not like she particularly likes playing hostess.”
“I don’t understand. You said the inn was her life,” Paul asked.
“It is, and it isn’t. She likes her place in society: the innkeeper, the hostess, the savior of the lost. But in reality, she doesn’t like the guests at all. She puts on a pleasant face, and I think she’s quite good at masking her feelings. It’s my father that loved the inn and the catering to the guests. When he died, she just kept on with the job. I don’t know why. It wasn’t like we needed the money. I think she didn’t know what else to do,” Millie realized.
“Would you like me to try to convince her to leave?” Mia asked.
Millie turned to look at who was speaking. “You look different.”
“This is what I look like when I’m in my own skin,” she explained. “When I came up here to rescue Burt, I was convinced that the Dew Drop Inn was a bad place, but I don’t think it is. It’s more of a determination than an evil that permeates the walls. I think it means to carry on its mission at all costs.”
“To be there for the lost traveler,” Millie said sadly.
“If you want to go back, I’ll go with you,” Paul said, putting his arm around his wife’s shoulders.
“No, I don’t want to spend eternity there. I want to go with you to whatever reward we are due,” Millie said. “When mother is ready, I’ll come back for her and show her the way.”
“So you’re certain?” Mia asked.
“Yes. Yes I am,” Millie said happily.
“Good because it was you that was holding the Dew Drop here. Watch,” Mia urged.
Millie and Paul did just that. The inn’s image wavered a bit and then disappeared into the early morning light. Just a faint glimmer of the snow moving through the ley line could be seen by the ghosts.
Millie put up her hand. “The sun is so bright.”
Mia looked around. The sun hadn’t cleared the trees yet. Millie and Paul were facing north. “That’s not the sun,” Mia explained. “It’s your light. May peace and joy follow you.”
Millie turned back and looked at Mia a moment. “Thank Mr. Hicks for me. Without him, I wouldn’t have understood that I was trapped.”
“I will. He’ll be pleased that he helped you. Now go and be with your loved ones,” Mia said.
Millie took Paul’s hand, and the two walked into a light Mia could not see but could still feel the warmth it cast. She turned away and walked back towards the truck. As she passed Mike and Cid, she mentioned, “Show’s over. Millie and Paul have gone into the light, and the Dew Drop Inn has disappeared with Mrs. Brewster.”
“So that’s it?” Mike asked. “Are we done here?”
Mia stopped and answered, “I think we have done all we can at the moment. I’ll contact Bernard and see if he knows anyone who would be interested in digging up the Ashville meteorite. What do you think, boss?” Mia asked Cid.
“Yes, follow through on that. What about the one you and Murphy moved up north?”
“I’m not sure I could locate it. It’s underground in a clearing. I’m not confident we could find it again,” Mia admitted. “Murph isn’t keen on traveling this particular line again anyway.”
“Well, then let’s pack up and find some place that serves steak and eggs. I promised Burt a steak, and by golly, he’s going to get one,” Cid said.
“Did someone say steak?” Burt asked, approaching the trio of investigators. “I’m starving. I could eat a whole cow.”
“Remember that, next time I complain that I’m hungry. Investigating is hard work,” Mia said.
“Mia, you’re always hungry,” Burt said. “I’m surprised your and Ted’s food budget isn’t astronomical. How can someone so little eat so much?”
Mia scrunched up her face and balled her fists, ready to do battle with Burt. She stopped herself from spouting off the expected barrage of abusive words and took a deep breath. She said instead, “I’m just lucky that way,” and walked off. She greeted Maggie and took time to thank Murphy before jumping in the truck and into the arms of her waiting husband.
The glade was quiet. The early morning light brought birds from their shelter out into the cool air in search of seeds to fill their stomachs. A doe and her fawn pushed their noses deep in the snow, rooting up some tasty young seedlings to eat. A hawk circled the clearing, looking for a rabbit or a fat mouse for its morning meal.
A tremor caused the snow to shudder, which frightened the deer that ran for the shelter of the trees. The birds abandoned their hunt when sparks appeared at the center of the dell. A roar preceded a mass of lumber and brick that skidded across the snow before settling just inside the edge of the forest. Curious, the woodland creatures looked out from their cover to see what had invaded their space.
Mrs. Brewster walked out of the inn, a broom in hand, and began to sweep away the snow that had accumulated on the porch. She looked out over the cleared expanse of ground and wondered why the inn had decided to stop in such a remote place. Surely no traveler would venture this far into the woods in search of shelter? She shook herself from her pondering and went back to the task at hand. The Dew Drop Inn would be ready, cook or no cook, to cater to the needs of the next guest.
Alexie Aaron
After traveling the world, Alexie Aaron, a Midwestern native, returned to her roots where she’s been haunting for years. She now lives in a village outside of Chicago with her husband and family.
Her popular Haunted Series was born from her memories of fleeting shapes rushing around doorways, an heirloom chair that rocked itself, cold feelings of mysterious dread, and warm feelings from the traces of loved ones long gone.
Alexie also writes the Cin Fin-Lathen Mysteries. These cozies set in England and south Florida combine action and intrigue with a liberal dose of humor.