Mr. Grey and the Hotel Ghosts Read online

  "I won't, I promise," he said, placing his right hand on his heart and raising his left.

  "Good man!" She grinned, and gave him one last kiss before heading out the door.

  * * * *

  She was on the phone to Martin within the hour.

  "Hi, I'm at the office. Sorry, Martin, but Kyle's making life difficult here. I daren't ask if I can approach the new owners. He's so cocky about off-loading the hotel, he doesn't want anything to spoil it. Poor Carla's running around like a headless chicken trying to keep up with his demands."

  "Damn!" Martin muttered. "Claudia, I've thought this over; we really need to get in and hold that séance. How much time do I have to collect my equipment?"

  "Not long; I guess you could drag things out for an hour, no more."

  "Hmm. Perhaps we can still do something."

  "Look, I've got to tie things up here. Stay where you are, I'll call to pick you up then we'll go on to the hotel."

  * * * *

  When they arrived at the hotel Carla was hovering inside the foyer. Tom was standing behind the reception desk, sorting through a pile of papers.

  "Kyle sent me over to keep an eye on you," Carla said wretchedly, looking at Martin. "He wants me to make sure you just collect your gear and leave. I'm so sorry!"

  "Carla, we've nearly cracked this case," Claudia said gently, touching her arm. "Mr. Grey needs a few more minutes. Then we'll go collect his things and leave. Okay?"

  "I'm not sure."

  "Please, Carla?" Martin asked quietly. "It won't take long."

  Carla glanced between the two of them then back to Tom, who was quietly observing the scene. He merely shrugged and leaned on the desk. "Your call, lady," he said, "but Mr. Grey's an okay guy. I ain't gonna throw him out if he says he'll leave."

  "Oh!" Carla sighed and seemed to collapse in on herself. "I guess it'll be okay. So long as Mr. Marshall doesn't know."

  "We're the last people to tell him, I promise!" Claudia said. "Let's get going, Martin, then we can be out of here. Where do you want to try your plan?"

  "Plan? What plan?" Carla asked.

  "Follow us, and we'll show you," Martin said, as he headed for the elevator.

  "You're going to hold the séance in the ballroom?" Claudia asked as the three of them rode up.

  "It's where it all began," Martin said firmly. "I can't think of any other place in this building which would be more suitable."

  "A séance?" Carla gasped. "Oh, no!" She drew back to the rear of the car. "I don't want anything to do with anything like that!"

  "You don't have to get involved, Carla, I promise you," Martin said. "It's my last-gasp attempt to clear up this case. If it doesn't work, I'll collect my things and we'll leave."

  The look on her face showed the girl wasn't reassured, yet she followed them out onto the landing and to the ballroom doors. Martin pushed them open.

  The world flickered as they stepped through the door, reality shifting yet again from one time to another.

  Strong afternoon sunlight glowed in the chamber, striking off the crystal drops of the great chandeliers far above their heads to scatter precious stones of light around the walls. In the middle of the floor stood a long pair of step-ladders, at the top of which an overall-clad man was working busily amongst the pendant drops of the middle chandelier. He was so engrossed in his work he didn't appear to notice their entrance.

  "Something's not right," Martin said, staring intently at the man.

  "Have the new owners got workmen in already?" Claudia asked Carla, gazing at the figure high above.

  "They don't get in until next week," Carla replied, looking puzzled. She walked into the room, her step uncertain. "Excuse me? Sir?" she called.

  Above her the man continued to work, unheeding. From their position near the door Martin and Claudia could see he had unscrewed the base of the chandelier, a hollow bowl-like component of gilded brass. Reaching into a pocket of his overalls he drew out a brown paper package. Glancing at the door but seemingly unaware of their presence, he slipped the package into the chandelier base and screwed it back onto the main unit. Once it was in place, he drew out a small tool and made some final adjustment.

  "Claudia!" Martin hissed, clasping her arm. "It's not real! It's another scene from the past!"

  "Excuse me?" Carla called up again, knocking timidly on the ladder. "Sir!"

  Her call and knock had no effect. A few seconds later the man finished his work and began to descend the ladder. Martin recognized him. "James Cloverdale!"

  Carla stepped away from the ladder as the man came down. "I want to know what authority you have to be here, sir," she said firmly when he reached the floor. Ignoring her he moved towards the door—then he and the ladder melted away into nothing.

  With a stunned expression Carla waved her hand through the air where he had been. Then she gave a small moan, and collapsed on the floor in a dead faint.

  * * * *

  She was still unconscious when they carried her into the foyer office.

  "Whoa! What happened?" Tom asked, getting up.

  "She fainted," Claudia replied tersely, opening Carla's blouse wide at the neck. "Give her some room."

  "Sure thing!" he said, and produced a bottle of mineral water from his bag. "Looks like she could use some of this."

  "Great!" Claudia poured some onto her handkerchief and dabbed Carla's face.

  The girl blinked and stirred, gradually coming to. Her eyes opened, fixed with blank incomprehension on Claudia, then she sat up abruptly. "He was a ghost!" she gasped, wide-eyed.

  "Yes, honey, but there's nothing to worry about. He's gone, so relax." Claudia pushed her gently back into her chair. "Now do you see why Mr. Grey has to be here?"

  "Yes, yes, I do," the girl whispered, looking at Martin with respect. "Does this happen to you often?"

  "Quite often," he nodded with a lopsided smile. "You get used to most of it."

  "My God!" Carla gasped, sinking back into her chair. "I admire you, sir!"

  "It's Martin, remember?" he said gently. "Now sit there for as long as you need. We'll check on a few things, then we'll be right back. Will you look after her, Tom?"

  "Sure thing!" Tom smiled genially. "Sounds like quite a story."

  "Carla saw it all, too," Claudia murmured as they left the office.

  "She didn't know it for what it was," he replied. "But it tells us where the Cloverdale jewels could be hidden."

  "In the chandelier? But why there?"

  "Perhaps Cloverdale feared the necklace would be found in his possession when the hotel was searched after Giuseppe’s death. It would be unlikely that the ballroom would be searched before the guest rooms, especially if it was closed for maintenance. I'd guess he knew that and took the chance to hide the jewels."

  "In a chandelier?"

  "Why not? Where better to hide something than in plain sight? He must have got hold of the overalls to disguise himself as a gas-fitter. Perhaps he hoped to return and recover the jewels when the coast was clear."

  "Only he wasn't able to satisfy his cronies when they wanted to know where the jewels were. They inadvertently murdered him before he could recover the necklace." Claudia shook her head. "Tough break for them."

  "I doubt he ever intended to split the proceeds of his own heirloom," Martin said thoughtfully. "Those men were just the means to an end. Perhaps they helped with false papers, or were old associates of his from the war years. Whatever the details, at least we know where the necklace is likely to be."

  Claudia stopped and looked at him wide-eyed. "We do? Where?"

  Martin smiled. "The basement. Remember that pile of discarded chandeliers in that room down there?"

  * * * *

  Borrowing a torch from Tom they headed for the stairway down to the basement. As they walked along the musty-smelling passage, the neon lights ahead of them cast cold blue-white light on the bare concrete walls. Within a few minutes they were in the storeroom, looking at the pil
e of discarded junk accumulated over the years in the life of the hotel.

  "What a mess!" Claudia nudged the nearest tangle of chains and brass with her toe. "How will we know which one has the necklace inside?"

  "If I were Cloverdale, I'd mark it so I could find it again," Martin said slowly. "He was intelligent, so he'd consider the possibility they'd be taken down for cleaning before he could get to them. Check the bases of all those you can find."

  They set to work, sorting through and untangling the brass chains and bodies of the chandeliers from several wall-sconces and the broken remnants of a Tiffany lamp. The sickly smell of verdigris rose into the air.

  "Good job the pendants aren't still attached," Martin said, wincing as his finger was pricked by a sharp edge of metal.

  Claudia glanced up. "I think they're in some of these boxes," she said, pointing to a pile of old shoe boxes stacked against the wall. "My great-aunt had a chandelier in her dining room. She was always careful to keep the drops well-packed if the thing was taken down for cleaning. I used to play with them and get told off for it."

  "Claudia!" Martin said, pulling a chandelier body free of the pile. When she looked over, he held his fingertip to a mark scratched into the peeling gilt.

  "J. C.," she read. "Martin, that's it!"

  Carefully they examined the mounting, an oval body about the size of a pumpkin with a broad band around the middle. Taking a grip on the top and bottom halves he strove to twist it. After a moment or two of straining the bottom half began to turn, the metal screeching, reluctant to move after so many decades spent in the damp air of the basement. With a final effort it separated, revealing a hollow interior crisscrossed with thin copper gas tubes. Martin and Claudia's heads moved slowly together as they peered inside. Wedged between two of the tubes was a package wrapped in mottled brown paper, brittle with age.

  Hardly breathing, Martin reached inside and tugged it free. As it moved, the fragile paper ripped and the light sparkled red and gold off the object within. Tearing the shreds of paper from the necklace he held it up in triumph so it blazed bravely before their eyes.

  "The Cloverdale necklace!" Claudia breathed heavily as she reached out with a trembling hand to take it from him. She slowly turned it over and over, and hefted it to feel the weight of the gold and the stones. "Look at the rubies! They must be the size of pigeon eggs!"

  "It must be worth over a million dollars at current prices," Martin said, shaking his head. "Whew! All of a sudden I feel exhausted."

  Claudia grinned. "Oh, I don't think I'll tire of looking at these just yet!"

  "I'm afraid you won't have the chance, lady," a hard voice said from the doorway. They looked up in shock as Mike stood there, a revolver trained on them. "Yep! It's me." He grinned, his dark eyes fixed on the necklace. "The bad penny turning up at last."

  "How did you get in?" Claudia demanded after a long, shocked silence.

  "Through the back." He looked at her pityingly. "I was watchman here for three years, stupid! How long do you think it takes to get a set of keys copied?" He held out his hand. "That belongs to me, Miss Mackenzie. Pass it over here, please." Claudia hesitated and the gun moved slightly to point squarely at her chest. Mike's eyes hardened. "Don't think I won't shoot you, miss," he said firmly. "We're deep underground here and the stairway door's shut. No one will hear a shot. And I've shot a few folks in my time. Want to be the next?"

  Claudia scowled. With great reluctance she passed the necklace into his outstretched hand. He stepped back, gun leveled. "Good girl! Now, both of you take out your cell phones and slide them out the door. That's it. I don't want you making any calls for a while."

  Grinning broadly, he tucked the necklace into his jacket, stepped into the passageway and slammed the door shut. They heard the sound of a key turn in the lock. Claudia rushed at the door and hammered on it. "You bastard!"

  Martin moved to her side and laid a hand on her arm. She shook it off then sagged against the door. "Oh, damn! I'm sorry, Martin. After all our searching, to have the thing in our hands at last only for that bastard to take it from us!"

  "The others are still upstairs," he pointed out. "There's plenty of stuff in here we can use to break the lock and get help." Martin moved away from the door then stopped, his head cocked. "Listen! Can you hear something?"

  Claudia frowned, and joined him as he pressed his ear to the door. "It's Mike," she whispered. "He's arguing with someone." After a few more moments, realization dawned on her. "It sounds like James Cloverdale! What on earth is going on?"

  "I don't like the sound of it, whatever it is!" Martin said.

  Outside all went quiet. A few long moments passed, before footsteps and muffled voices could be heard approaching.

  "Is it the others?" Claudia asked. She banged hard on the door with the flat of her hands. "Hey! We're in here! We're in here!"

  A shot sounded, roaring and echoing down the hard concrete passage outside and making them both leap back in shock. The echoes died away, then scuffling and bumping sounded. Somewhere a wheel squeaked and the sound of water trickling, then pouring from an unknown source. Another shot, then a door slammed, and all was silent for a while.

  Claudia looked at Martin with dread in her eyes, then renewed her assault on the door. "Is anyone there? Help! We're in here!"

  "Claudia?" Carla's terrified voice sounded outside the door. "Tom's been shot! And there's water pouring in!"

  Claudia gasped. "Oh, my God!"

  "Carla!" Martin shouted with his face close to the door. "Is the key in the lock?"

  "No!"

  "Bugger!" He grunted with frustration, and stood back. "Claudia, look for something heavy to break this door down with." He glanced down at his feet as Carla wailed in the passageway beyond. Water was beginning to seep under the crack. "And hurry!"

  A rapid search turned up an old fire-extinguisher. Martin hauled it free of the pile of junk and hefted it. "Plenty of weight," he said. "The door opens inwards, but we should be able to break the lock."

  "Hurry!" Claudia pointed at the water which was spreading out across the floor of the room.

  Martin squared up to the lock, and swung the old extinguisher like a battering ram. The door shuddered, the noise of impact loud in the room, but the lock withstood the blow and the water rose higher.

  "What the hell did Mike do out there?" Claudia put her hand on Martin's arm to stop him from swinging the extinguisher again. "Carla? Carla! Are you okay out there?"

  "Tom's in a bad way!" The girl sobbed. "I'm trying to keep him off the floor but the water's rising fast!"

  "Where's the water coming from? Can you turn it off?"

  "No! Mike took the wheel off!"

  "It must be coming from the laundry pipes, or the sprinkler system feed," Claudia said to Martin. "Whichever it is, they're connected to the main supply so it isn't going to stop!"

  Martin redoubled his efforts on the obstinate lock, landing blow after blow on the buckling metal. At last, it broke under the repeated impacts and the door opened slightly under the pressure of the water building up in the passage.

  Hurriedly they waded into the passageway. Carla crouched on the floor in a growing pool of water, supporting Tom in her arms. A red stain spread out in the water from a sopping wet wad of cloth pressed to his side.

  Carla looked up at them with a haggard face. "He's still alive!"

  Tom grunted. His eyes flickered half-open. "Hell, yeah, I'm alive! It'll take more than a fuckin' remf to put me down!" He grimaced and sank back, unconscious.

  "Mike locked the door at the far end," Carla said, pointing. "I think there's someone else with him, I could hear them arguing."

  Martin and Claudia looked at each other. "Unimportant right now," he said quietly to Claudia, then knelt to examine Tom's wound. "This looks nasty, but I think it missed anything vital. Let's get you both up to the stairs. Even if the door is locked, we'll all be out of the water and have some time to think what to do."

 
Claudia reached into the water by the door and picked up their cell phones. She groaned. "Ruined! We can't call for help, even if we could get a signal down here."

  "We'll have to shift for ourselves, love. Let's go."

  Martin grunted as he pulled Tom's arm around his shoulders and took the big man's weight. Carla helped carry the wounded watchman the fifty yards to the stairway. Tom, still half-conscious through pain and loss of blood, grunted and moaned as they waded through the ankle-deep water.

  When they reached the stairwell Claudia pointed ahead. "Look at that!"

  Water poured from a valve in the pipe-work fixed to the wall. A shiny bright scar of metal shone through the thick paint of decades. A bullet had smashed the workings of the valve, preventing it from being turned off even if another wheel was found.

  Claudia flinched as they ducked past the icy cold stream. "He was just trying to scare us or slow us up. The water will run off down the laundry drains before the basement floods."

  Carla groaned. "If he's trying to scare us, he's succeeded with me!" She shivered in her soaked clothing as she helped Martin lower Tom onto the stairs above the water level.

  Claudia clasped Carla's arm. "Don't worry, we'll get out of here soon."

  "We'll have to!" Martin said, pointing to a junction box mounted low down on the wall. The cover had been unscrewed, exposing the wiring inside. "It won't take long before the water reaches that thing!"

  As one they shivered. The prospect of electrocution wasn't one they relished.

  "Looks like Mike got inspiration from someone," Claudia said quietly to Martin as they moved up onto the still dry stairs to examine the door.

  "Perhaps." Martin pushed at the door, although he didn't expect it to open. "Lunatics sometimes say they were driven to do things because voices in their head told them to. In Mike's case, he may have more than just a voice to blame." He grasped the pipes by the door and kicked at it. "Damn! He must have pushed something against this!"

  "Who's there?" A male voice spoke from the other side of the door.

  "Hello?" Carla got up quickly from the steps, suddenly animated. She pushed past Martin and Claudia to beat on the door with her fists. "Help! We're in here!"