An Unwanted Guest(40)

They move further along the hall at the back of the hotel and turn left, towards the lobby. On the right-hand side is the library. James opens the glass-paned door and they all follow him. There’s nowhere to hide in here, either.

They move on next to the sitting room, but again, there’s nothing to find.

When they get back to the lobby, they turn down the corridor towards the bar. It yields nothing. Further down the corridor is the door to James and Bradley’s apartment. James unlocks the door and invites them in. The apartment is small but tidy and nicely appointed. There’s no one there, either. As they return to the lobby, Beverly is both relieved and disheartened. She doesn’t know what they are going to do, how they will find the killer.

‘There’s nothing left but the kitchen and the cellar,’ Bradley says.

Beverly feels uneasy at the thought of going down to the cellar, but she follows along as they go back to the kitchen.

‘Come in,’ Bradley says. With Bradley holding the oil lamp aloft, they enter the enormous kitchen. It’s half country kitchen, half industrial. Beverly notices the enormous refrigerator that must be eight feet wide, and which is now full of food that must be thawing and spoiling. There’s an oversized island in the middle of the kitchen – obviously a busy workspace on most days. Cupboards line the walls, and there’s a large double sink and an industrial dishwasher.

Beverly watches James open the large refrigerator and look inside. Nothing. Then he opens the larder and they all look inside with the aid of the sputtering oil lamp. It’s empty, too.

James turns to them and says, ‘Only the cellar left.’ He opens an old wooden door and automatically reaches for the light switch before remembering. ‘Give me that,’ he says to Bradley, and reaches for the lamp.

‘No, let me go first,’ Bradley insists, and pushes past his father with the light.

They creak down the rough wooden stairs. There are no backs on the stairs, and there’s no handrail, either. Beverly keeps her hand against the rough stone wall for balance. When she arrives at the bottom, it’s like stepping into another century. Thick, heavy ceiling beams support the building overhead. The foundation walls are made of stone.

‘Two feet thick,’ Bradley says, pointing casually.

Beverly looks, impressed, at the whitewashed stone. The paint is flaking off.

‘Are there rats down here?’ she asks. There are probably rats. Beverly is terrified of rats. This is the country, and the cellar is directly below the kitchen.

‘We take care of them,’ Bradley says. ‘Don’t worry.’

‘How?’ Henry asks.

‘Warfarin,’ James says curtly, and Beverly’s uneasiness increases.

James seems uncomfortable about his guests seeing this rather primitive cellar, and possibly rats; it’s nothing like the fancy hotel upstairs. He must feel like he’s stripping down to his underwear in front of them, Beverly thinks.

She sees a rude wooden shelf built into the stone wall that must be original to the building. It’s empty. Bradley sees her looking at it.

‘We don’t use the basement much,’ Bradley explains. ‘We keep everything in the pantry upstairs.’

Beverly gazes around the very large open space. The cement floor is uneven. There are some small windows set into the stone high up in the wall. A modern electrical panel stands out for being clean and new. The furnace is relatively new as well.

‘There’s no one here,’ David says, peering around behind the furnace.

‘We’re not done yet,’ Bradley says. He moves towards the back of the cellar and slips through another opening to the right. ‘The cisterns are in here,’ he says, his voice sounding far away.

Not wanting to be left behind, Beverly reluctantly follows the others and glances through the rough doorway. There are two large square concrete cisterns to the right.

‘Empty now,’ Bradley says.

Beverly shudders. She doesn’t go inside the room with the cisterns. She stands at the opening, watching as Bradley looks down inside each one, holding the light aloft. David comes up beside him and looks down with him.

Bradley shakes his head. ‘All clear,’ he says.

‘Look,’ David says, his voice sharp.

Beverly follows where David is looking. There’s a window on the far wall, near the ceiling.

‘Shit,’ says Bradley.

Beverly watches, tense, as Bradley approaches and examines the window. She can see that the glass is broken; there are fragments on the floor below.

‘The window is still latched,’ David says, standing beside Bradley, studying the window.

‘So it might just be a broken window,’ Bradley says.

‘Or it could have been deliberately broken, unlatched from outside, and someone could have slipped in this way and latched the window again.’

Beverly feels herself go a little faint.

David says, ‘We’d better go outside and take a look around. See if there are any footprints. Bradley and I will go. Everybody doesn’t have to come.’

Matthew says, ‘I’ll come.’





Saturday, 7:10 PM


Matthew pulls on his winter jacket and boots and follows David and Bradley outside onto the porch. The wind is a force to be reckoned with, angry and noisy; the trees seem to cower before it. They’ve checked all the ground-floor windows and doors from the inside, and they are all secure. There’s just the one broken basement window they have to go and look at now. Matthew wonders how they’re going to make it around the east side of the hotel to check the window, given how slippery it looks out there.