The Night Clerk

Thriller Stories | Apr 9, 2012 | 18 min read
120 Votes, average: 4 out of 5
Thriller Stories

The Night Clerk

James G. Kelly
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The first day, or in this case night, in a new job is always exciting. You know it will get old and boring after a while, but Cyn was looking forward to that first paycheck. It had been a long time since she had earned one. Well, she had earned it raising two kids, but that really doesn't pay all that well, monetarily. Sure she had a roof over her head, a full belly and the occasional vacation, but not an actual paycheck; money that she could say was hers.

Night clerk in a motel doesn't really bring in the big bucks, but it would be enough to help with the bills and still have some mad money left over for a night out with the girls and some much needed new clothes.

Another cool thing about the job was the fact that it was at night, which meant it never would be very busy and best of all she had internet access, so she could surf during the boring interludes between registering guests and handling the little problems that might pop up from time to time.

That first night the manager had explained all the details of the job and warned her about the ice machine. She found out exactly what he was talking about when the compressor kicked on. Cyn had been lulled into a somewhat peaceful state by the low hum of the red and blue neon vacancy sign that hung in the window just to the left of her desk. She nearly jumped out of her chair when all of a sudden clank, bang, crunch. It sounded like someone was trying to break the door down with a pick axe. Then she heard the rumble of newly frozen cubes as they were dumped onto the ones already in the freezer compartment. This happened every thirty minutes or so all night every night of her first week. By the second week she began to get accustomed to the sound and didn't jump quite as high when it would occur.

It wasn't until the third week when the really strange things began to happen. Cyn was sitting behind her desk reading her E-mail when she heard a thump out in the lobby. One of those noises you know you heard, but think it's not worth checking out unless you hear it again. She did. Getting up slowly and turning an ear in the direction of the lobby she listened for a couple of seconds before proceeding on to the lobby.

The way the motel is set up when the front door is locked, as she always double checked to make sure it was, none of the guests had access to the lobby. The office-lobby was a separate entity from the rooms and no one could enter unless she let them in. The rooms form a three sided square with the detached office-lobby in the center.

The motel was built on what was then the main road, but like what has happened in so many places the new interstate highway bypassed the old route and now most of the traffic goes right by. The owner did put a little sign out on the highway, which has now faded with the passage of time, so motorists would at least know the motel was still there.

Cyn slowly approached the door that led from the office to the lobby. Just as she peeked through the opening the ice machine sounded off and she couldn't help but scream. She laughed at herself for being so afraid and walked out into the lobby.

Nothing was visibly out of place and no one was there. As she turned to go back into the office she heard the thump again. She turned quickly enough to catch a picture moving on the wall. It was an aerial view of the motel taken not long after it had been built. Cyn began to search her mind for a reasonable explanation.

It is a windy night, but all the doors and windows are shut tight. Perhaps a low flying jet, but surely I would have heard that. Maybe a heavily loaded semi running off the interstate to avoid the scales, but I would have felt that.

No, there was no explanation. The picture had moved that was a fact, unless she was losing her mind. Cyn had always thought she might not have all of her marbles, but she had enough of them left to know that this was a real phenomenon. That picture had moved without any outside force other than perhaps a supernatural one. She went uneasily back to her desk, looking over her shoulder twice along the way.

Cyn arrived home, got the kids off to school and took a hot shower before turning in. The events of the night before remained in the forefront of her mind and made sleep impossible. She got up and googled the motel to see if she could find out any history on the place. The home page didn't mention anything out of the ordinary, but she did find an article from The Sun, the local paper, dating back to 1987.

According to the article a young couple traveling across country on their honeymoon had stayed at the motel. The next morning the maid not getting an answer to her knock at the door entered to find the room literally covered in blood. The walls, floor, bed and even the ceiling were splattered with blood. The bodies were not found in the room and the killer, as of this writing, remains at large.

Well, this is great, thought Cyn I'm working at the Bates Motel.

Further research in the form of a follow up article from 1991 revealed the crime to be open and not yet solved. She could find no more mention of what had happened, but it did give the couple's names as John and Betty Lamont of Camden, New Jersey.

The next night instead of surfing the net, Cyn kept her eyes glued to the security monitors. The first three monitors show differing angles of the parking lot including the entrance and exit, and the forth showed the entire front of the office-lobby.

The man in room 108 came out every 20 minutes or so to take a smoke. Cyn thought this commendable due to the fact he had his young son with him. Every time he came out he had fewer clothes on then the time before. First he was fully dressed, the next time he was wearing a tee shirt and shorts. The last time he had lost the tee shirt. He was well built for man who seemed to her to be in his mid to late forties. Cyn didn't know what to expect if he came out for another cigarette, and wasn't sure she wanted him to.

A tall, thin, blonde woman staying in room 105 came out once for ice and once to raid the candy machine. Cyn watched her as she made her way across the lot to the machines located in front of the office-lobby. She had to pass through all three lot monitors as she went. The candy machine was rather stubborn in releasing her prize and she had had to jiggle it a bit to get her bar to fall into the slot.

There was a young couple in room 109 that Cyn was sure wasn't really married even though they had signed in as man and wife. They had no luggage and neither was wearing a wedding ring. Kids don't lie very well, Cyn thought. It takes years of practice to get it right. She hadn't seen either of them since the man came out and got some ice shortly after they had arrived.

Only one other room was occupied and that by a man that lived there. He covered his rent by doing all the maintenance for the motel. The manager had told her that he came in one night about two months ago with no money and no place to stay. He had asked if there was any work he could do to pay for a couple nights stay and had turned out to be quite handy. The manager had offered him the room for free and paid him half minimum wage for his work.

As the blonde was heading back to her room Cyn noticed a blur following behind her. She reached up and wiped at the monitor screen to see if maybe it was something on there. The blur disappeared as the lady passed from the second to the third monitor.

What the hell was that?

Cyn removed the VHS tape from the recorder and put it in the VCR. The blur didn't show up on the playback. She watched it several more times before replacing the tape into the recorder. Unlike the moving picture from the night before, Cyn felt she could have possibly imagined it. It was late in her shift and her eyes were tired from staring at the monitor screens.

The manager came in that morning to relieve her and Cyn asked him about the murders, and if he had been working there when it had happened.

"We're not supposed to talk about that; bad publicity you know."

"No publicity. I've lived here all my life, but I don't remember ever hearing about it."

"Yes, and that's just the way the owner wants to keep it. No one wants to stay in a haunted motel."

"Haunted! What do you mean haunted?"

"Shh, keep it down," he said as he lightly grabbed her arm and looked around before leading her into the office. "Listen, some strange things have happened around here is all; weird noises, shadowy figures and the like. No one has noticed it, but the people that have worked here and no one's been hurt.

"No one hurt? What about the murders?"

"The haunting didn't begin until after the murders. We think maybe one or possibly both of the victims are the ones haunting the place. We had hoped that after the murders were solved and the person or persons responsible had been caught it would stop. It's just that that hasn't happened yet."

Now, more than scared, Cyn felt bad for the couple. Not being able to rest; not having any justice for their senseless murders. If she could coax the spirits into giving her some kind of clue as to what had happened, who the murderer is, where their bodies might be, perhaps she could help them rest in peace.

Cyn used her day off to check out some old newspapers at the library. The only real information of interest was that it had occurred in room 113. She had been told not to rent that room out until all the rest were in use. After finding out about the murders she had a feeling that was the reason, and now she was sure.

That night after all seemed calm, Cyn grabbed the key to room 113 and started out to check the room to see if she would get any vibes from it, or if maybe there was some clue the police had overlooked. It was a real long shot after all this time, but she had to start somewhere.

Even though the room hadn't been used, to her knowledge, since she came to work there it was spotless. The maids cleaned all the rooms every morning whether they had been used or not. She flicked on the lights and began to look around.

Everything seemed normal until she hit a cold spot upon entering the bathroom. I guess anyone not knowing the story wouldn't as readily notice the change. Then she saw a sudden movement out of the corner of her eye. When she whipped around there was nothing to be seen.

"Betty, is that you?" she asked apprehensively as she looked about the empty room.

Cyn gasped and ran from the room when what felt like the pressure of someone's hand pressed against her shoulder.

C'mon Cyn, buck it up, she thought, you can't help them if you're scared of them.

Just then she heard a horn blow. As she rounded the corner of the office-lobby she saw a man standing by the open door of a black Mustang. It was one of the new ones that had been designed to resemble the old ones from the late sixties.

"There you are. Is this place open for business or isn't it?"

"Yes sir, it is. I'm sorry, but I had to let one of the other guests in their room," Lied Cyn, "She couldn't find her key. Would you like a room?"

"Duh, I am at motel aren't I?"

Cyn smiled and remained polite even though she wanted lay into the guy with both barrels. Not everyone that stops wants a room. Some ask for directions, or to purchase a map, some want to use the bathroom, or get some water for their overheating car. There is any number of reasons someone might stop by other than to get a room.

After getting the man signed in and assigned a room Cyn watched him get an overnight bag out the back of his car from the safety of the office. No blurs followed him as he crossed the parking lot to visit the ice machine.

No self respecting ghost would want to be seen with a guy like that anyway. She thought as she giggled to herself.

Once she felt he was settled, Cyn headed back to room 113. She knelt down and looked under the bed. She couldn't see anything and swiped her hand across the carpet to see if she could feel something. She had to put her head under the bed to reach the middle from that side.

"Looking for ghosts?"

Cyn bumped her head on the steel frame of the bed, before she was able to stand. When she turned around she saw the gentle smile of Bob the handy man.

"Oh, you know the story?" asked Cyn.

"Yep, I heard about it. Al told me over a six pack one night not long after I started working here. He was just a clerk back then. The owner had been so taken with the way he had handled the situation that he made him manager."

"He must have done a good job keeping it hush hush because I'd never heard of it," said Cyn as she rubbed the back of her head, and her heart finally began to beat regularly again.

Bob was also a good looking man. He didn't cut quite the figure of the guy in 108, but he made up for it with his gentle personality. Working the night shift, Cyn didn't get to talk to him much unless there was an emergency.

Once a guy had wrung the key off in the lock and she had had to get Bob to come over and help get the man into his room. While it had only taken him twenty minutes, Cyn had written an hour and a half in the log book.

"You wanna come over for a beer and talk about it?"

"I'd love to, Bob, but I better get back up front. One thing though, have you ever had any weird feelings in this room?"

"No, nothing that I can remember, but then I don't believe in ghosts," he said with a smile.

She had seen him smile before and something wasn't quite right with that one. Cyn felt like he was holding something back; wasn't telling her everything he knew.

Back at the office Cyn set herself up in front of the monitors again. She kept a close eye on monitor one. Bob was sitting outside – After all it was a beautiful night – drinking a beer in front of his room. He watched the comings and goings of the other guests and every once in a while he would take out a note pad and scribble something into it.

Hmmm, I wonder what that's all about.

Before all of this started Cyn had not been a big believer in ghosts. It hadn't even been much of an interest for her, but since, she has watched some of the ghost hunter shows on cable. Some of the equipment they used looked to be expensive. The one she thought would help her most would be a small digital voice recorder.

The recorders were used to get EVPs, electronic voice phenomenon. She had heard some eerie things on those shows from the recorders. Some she couldn't really make out, but others were very clear. If she could get Betty to tell her where her body is, or the killer's identity it would go a long way toward solving this crime, and giving that poor couple the rest they deserved.

Cyn left early for work that night, so she could stop at the Radio Barn and pick one up. After consulting with the salesman at the store, himself a ghost hunting buff, she purchased a small recording device. She tested the device on her way to work, and it seemed to be working fine.

A line of dark clouds were drifting in from the west slowed by a warm Southeasterly breeze. The weatherman had predicted storms for the early evening extending into the overnight hours. A tornado watch was in effect as well, which usually meant the storms could become severe.

"What's that?" asked Al, noticing the recorder sticking out of the top of Cyn's purse.

"It's a digital recorder."

"What are you going to use that for?"

"It's for my son; a school project he has to do. I picked it up on my way to work," said Cyn, as she pushed it deeper into her purse. She didn't want the manager to know she was moonlighting as a private investigator/ghost hunter while she was supposed to be working.

Cyn, searched on-line for some EVPs while waiting for it get dark. She didn't understand why it had to be dark for these things to work, but the ghost hunters on TV always waited for night to fall, and she figured they must know what they're doing. Midnight seemed to be the best time - The witching hour she remembered it being called – according to the experts, so that was when she planned to get started. Distant rolls of thunder added even more to the classic horror film setting she felt she was in.

Watching the clock in anticipation of all hands being straight up brought on a fear, excitement for Cyn like you get when you're the next in line for the roller coaster at the amusement park. Finally the hour arrived just after the first wave of storms had pushed through. The on-line weather radar showed a second line not too far off. This one looked to be more severe than the first, and even had some purple mixed in with the usual reds, yellows and greens present in most storms. While her attention had been on her computer she hadn't noticed the car pull into the parking lot. She didn't see it go into the alley that ran behind the rooms.

With the recorder in hand, and a quick check of the monitors to make sure the coast was clear, Cyn set off for room 113. She entered the room and this time left the lights off. Her heart was beating hard in her chest as she asked questions of the ghosts like she had seen them do on TV.

"Betty, are you here? If you are move something if you're able to."

Cyn held the recorder up in front of her. She turned slowly in the middle of the room hoping to put the recorder in the best position to pick up anything that might be said.

"If it is you knock once to let me know. If it's some other spirit will you please knock twice?"

The silence was broken by a loud crash of thunder that immediately followed a flash of lightning that appeared to strike right outside the window of the room.

Cyn was sure she had seen a face peering in through the glass. At that point she lost her courage and bolted from the room. She was soaking wet when she got back to the office-lobby as the rain had begun to pour down as she ran.

She grabbed a towel from the emergency stash behind the counter in the lobby, and started to dry herself off. She had seen the face at the window, but in silhouette to the flash of lightning she couldn't make out any features. What she hadn't noticed in her haste was that the door to room 114 had been slightly ajar. She also hadn't heard the voice that the recorder had picked up.

White noise followed by a raspy, deep sound then more white noise, or normal static. Then the thunder boom and the little scream that she hadn't realized she had uttered. Cyn rewound to the spot of the raspy sound. After listening to it several times the words were beginning to come clear to her.

"Exxxx markssss the ssssspot."

Cyn didn't see the face peering in the window of the office when she heard the thump from the lobby. It was loud enough to be heard above the pounding rain that continued to fall outside. It was the same sound she had heard that first night; when all this ghost business had begun. This time the thumping continued as she entered the lobby. The picture was swinging violently up and slapping hard against the wall. She crept slowly forward, inching ever closer to the moving picture.

A bright flash, a loud boom then sudden darkness as the lightning struck a nearby transformer. Cyn stood frozen in the darkness unable to get her legs to work. She could hear her heart pounding above the sound of the rain; could feel her body start to let go.

"No, be strong Cyn."

At that moment she called up all of her resolve and with much persuasion from her mind her legs started to move. She remembered where the flashlight was and made her way along the wall to the office. With her hands out in front of her to prevent her from bumping into the walls she found the desk. She went around to the back of the desk using its edges to feel her way along. She opened the deep, bottom, right-side drawer and felt for the flash light.

She found the flashlight under a couple of old log books and already had it on as she pulled it from the drawer. She was happy to find there were no ghosts as she shined the light around the office and out into lobby through the open door. She made her way back out into the lobby and the straight beam of white light formed a perfect circle of brightness around the now still picture. In the glare she noticed a couple of scratches in the glass covering the picture. The scratches, in the shape of an X, were directly over a small copse of woods behind the motel.

X marks the spot, thought Cyn as she raised her hand and rubbed the scratches on the glass with the tip of her pointer finger.

That must be where the bodies are buried. I probably would have never noticed those scratches if the lights hadn't gone out.

She heard the door to the lobby swing open and felt a strong gust of warm, damp wind blow across her back. She turned and shined the light into Al's face.

"Al, what are you doing here?"

Al stood in the doorway with a shovel in one hand and a nickel plated 45 in the other. Rain water dripped off of him and puddled on the tiled floor of the foyer.

"You wanted to see where the bodies are buried, well, let's go. I'll show you exactly where they are," he said motioning toward the door with the gun.

Cyn had no choice other than to do as she was told. She walked out of the door and into the driving rain of the storm at its peak. Al followed her with his gun pointed at her back.

"Move!" he would say whenever she began to move too slowly for him, or turn around to look at him. Then he would thrust the barrel of the gun hard into her back.

"Al, why are you doing this?" asked Cyn as the rain ran down her face and soaked her clothes. Droplets of rain fell from the ends of her hair as she wiped at her face in a futile attempt to clear the tear mixed rain from her eyes.

"You're not much of a detective if you haven't figured it out yet, my dear. Now move," he said through gritted, smoke-stained teeth. "Everything was fine; all had been forgotten until you started snooping around. When I saw you pointing to the exact spot in the picture where I had buried the bodies I knew that was it. Now you get to join them. I hope that makes you happy. You solved the case, but no one will ever know, and they'll never find your body either. I'll say I saw you get in the car with some guy that had been hanging around; that the two of you had been having an affair and I guess you ran off with the guy."

Cyn had made her way to the back corner of the motel and was pushed along into the woods by the barrel of the 45. After about thirty steps or so she was told to stop. Al handed her the shovel and commanded her to start digging.

"Why did you kill them, Al" asked Cyn as she forced the shovel into the muddy dirt.

"They walked into the lobby and caught me putting some money from the register into my pocket. They probably wouldn't have said anything, but I couldn't take that chance. Now dig."

After a few minutes the shovel struck something hard. With her next shovel full of mud Cyn lifted a human skull. The rain cleared the mud from the skull as she looked at it in horror. She screamed, and threw the shovel and skull out of the hole. She started to climb out when she heard the sound of the hammer being pulled back on the 45. Al picked up the shovel and handed it back to her.

Thirty minutes or so had passed when Cyn threw the shovel down for the last time.

"That's it. I can't dig anymore," she screamed. Blisters had formed on the palms of her hands, busted open and begun to bleed.

Al craned his neck to check her progress.

"It looks deep enough to me. Good-bye Cyn, it was nice working with you," he said with a smile as he raised the 45 and pointed it directly at her forehead.

Cyn closed her eyes for what she figured was the last time and braced herself for the coming impact. The shot rang out; echoing off of the trees. She felt no pain and opened one eye in time to see Al fall to the ground. Behind him, lowering a 9 millimeter, stood Bob the handy man.

Wrapped in a blanket and sipping from a steaming hot cup of coffee Cyn looked up as Bob came through the door of the office. He had been talking to the police to give Cyn time to pull herself together before the questioning began.

"I guess you're not really a handyman?" she asked peering over the steam wafting up from the cup.

"Nope, Tim Robbins, FBI," he said offering his hand.

"Thank you Tim Robbins," she said shaking his hand.

"I was going over some cold cases, and this one caught my attention. The captain said it would be okay if I came down under cover and checked into it. I had my suspicions about old Al, but I doubt if I would have ever solved the case without your help."

"It wasn't me. The one we really need to thank is Betty Lamont. She's the one that led me to the X on the picture."

Cyn continued to work at the motel after the incident. She never again heard the thump from the lobby or any other strange noises, except for that blasted ice machine. She made several more trips to room 113 with her digital recorder, but all she got was static. She had succeeded in her quest to give rest to the young couple that had senselessly been murdered all those years ago.


The Night Clerk By James G. Kelly

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Reviews

James G. Kelly May 12, 2012

Thanks Shontella, I appreciate your comment very much. I'm glad you liked it.

Shontella May 9, 2012

Wow, this story was really good, I really enjoyed reading it!

James G. Kelly Apr 13, 2012

Thanks for reading and commenting, Andre. I'm glad you liked it.

James G. Kelly Apr 13, 2012

Thanks for the great comment, Regina.

Seven L. Cooper Apr 13, 2012

I love ghost stories with happy endings! Excellent, wonderful, satisfying! =)

André Apr 12, 2012

This is a very good story. Horror mixed with a detective story.

James G. Kelly Apr 11, 2012

Thanks Shel, you're the best.

Rachelle Apr 11, 2012

Ahhhh! Takes me back to the days of my night job! I'm glad it never got that scary! Brilliant!! Well done as always!

James G. Kelly Apr 10, 2012

Thanks for the comment, Tallulah. I appreciate it greatly.

Tallulah Apr 10, 2012

As always, another enjoyable read!!

James G. Kelly Apr 10, 2012

Thanks for the wonderful comment, Angel

Angel Apr 10, 2012

A great read, love ghost stories, nice plot with good description.

Belinda k Apr 10, 2012

I like the supernatural combination with a girl sleuth! Enjoyed the story!

James G. Kelly Apr 10, 2012

Thanks for the comment Belinda. I'm glad you liked it.

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