Dead Sure?: A Paranormal Mystery by Eric Webster Read Free Book Online

but it takes real talent to create something. If looks could kill, Liam’s might have been bordering on deadly. However, despite his height and stocky build, Liam dressed like the ultimate nerd. Today, of course, was no exception. He was wearing dress pants that were just slightly too short, and a light brown short sleeve dress shirt. The shirt pocket had several pens crammed into it, and what look wouldn’t be complete without black plastic-rim glasses straight from the previous decade’s style.
     
    *    *    *
     
    With a hardy slap on their backs, Ron Beckman joined his demolition team. Ron was a no-nonsense kind of guy. Get the job done and don’t listen to or take any excuses. Ron glanced at his watch, seven-forty-five am.
    “Well, gentlemen, let’s get this party started. I want you to complete the final walkthrough by nine am, set the explosives by ten-thirty, and blow this thing before lunch,” said Ron in his loud, booming voice. Jack remembered his first phone conversation with Ron.  On the phone, Ron had a completely different presence, about him. In person, Ron’s voice was deep and carried a lot of authority with it. He was a big man in his early fifties with graying hair; at least what was left of it.
    Jack looked tentatively at Ron, “I think a good walkthrough of this place is going to take us until at least nine-thirty or ten.”
    People didn’t usually question Ron, and when they did, it didn’t usually go well.
    “Well, I’ll tell you what; you can have until nine-ten,” he replied with a glare.
    Jack and Sam grabbed their tools and some flashlights and headed into the building.
    “So, that went well,” Jack said with a chuckle as soon as they got out of Ron’s earshot. “I’m always good at making my employers happy.”
    “It sure did,” replied Sam. “Ron doesn’t usually give an inch. Let’s get going. We had better finish on time.”
    They headed for the stairwell to begin trudging up the eight flights. It was customary to start with the top floor and work your way down to the basement. The electricity had been cut the previous day, so there was no elevator. They hoofed it up the stairs with only the bobbing beams of their flashlights showing the way.  The number painted on the wall just in front of them read “seven”.
    “Almost there, this climb is making me hungry,” Sam complained.
    “When aren’t you hungry?” snickered Jack. “When we get this done, I’ll treat to lunch over at Mickey’s Pub.  People tell me it’s pretty good.”
    “That sounds great, but I was kind of hoping to squeeze a free meal out of Ron today for meeting the schedule. Then, you could buy me a free lunch tomorrow. How’s that for planning ahead?” Sam bragged.
    “Yeah, you have always been good at that, Sam.”
    They reached the landing for the eighth floor and exited the stairwell into the main hall.
    “It sounds more like scamming than planning, but whatever works for ya,” Jack said, and pointed to Sam. “You take all the offices on the right and I’ll take the ones to the left. Remember, let’s keep things moving. We can’t afford to get off schedule, especially if your lunch plan is going to work out.”
    Sam just laughed and entered the first room on the right. There were no doors on any of the offices. The ornate wood doors had been sold several weeks earlier at auction. In fact, the building had been stripped down of most of its antique amenities.
    It was a pretty easy process. Walk into a room, make sure no animal or person had decided to take occupancy, and move on to the next room. Once in a while you might even find a treasure or two, an old piece of trim work, or an antique fire extinguisher. You just never knew. Sam was finishing up his last office, and so far no treasures.
    Humph , thought Sam. “Hey Jack, where are you?” he yelled heading into the hall.
    “Right here,” said Jack emerging from his last office. “Let’s move down to the next floor.