Mr. Grey and the Hotel Ghosts Read online

  The fiche scrolled up, and a new headline blazed. 'Chestnut Mansion Shock! Hotel porter kills himself. Italian accused of jewel heist.'

  Claudia sighed. "Ah! Jackpot!"

  "'Giuseppe Loretto, 25, an immigrant from Bari, Italy, stood accused of stealing the famous Cloverdale necklace belonging to Anna-Grace Palmer, née Cloverdale. Mrs. Palmer is an honored guest at the Chestnut Mansion Hotel where her father, Captain Joseph Cloverdale, died heroically in 1863 whilst saving lives during a fire. On being accused, Loretto headed for the hotel's roof garden, where he climbed onto the border railings and made several clear threats to kill himself. As the manager, Charles Kleber, tried to reason with him, Loretto hurled himself off the ten-story building.'"

  "Like you said, when he took the electric shock, it would appear to anyone watching that he did hurl himself off," Claudia said quietly.

  "And look here…" Martin pointed at the screen. "'Police believe Loretto had an accomplice amongst the guests but have so far been unable to uncover the person or recover the jewels.'"

  "James Cloverdale! He got away with it." Claudia sighed and thumped the table softly. "Dammit!"

  "Perhaps he did, perhaps he didn't," Martin said soothingly. "Let's check further, see if there are any reports of an arrest."

  After a further three hours Claudia pushed herself back from the table and stretched. "A dry hole," she said, and sighed.

  "It looks that way," Martin agreed. "There's no news here of arrests, nothing about the jewels. The necklace and Cloverdale himself vanished."

  "Maybe not," Claudia said thoughtfully. "I recall an entry about the old guest and staff registers being included in the papers handed over to our company when we took on the property. Now that we have a date, we can check through those tomorrow, see if any name springs out on us. James Cloverdale had to be using an alias, if he was either posing as a guest or a worker at the hotel. After thirty or so years, I doubt any of the staff from the Civil War days would have been around to recognize him, so he'd have felt himself pretty safe."

  "An excellent idea! Perhaps we should check any earlier archives we can gain access to, particularly the Civil War era," he added thoughtfully. "James Cloverdale has to have a record somewhere. At the ball, he seemed an impassioned type, ready to fling himself into a cause."

  "I think you're right, Martin. Maybe he escaped from New York after the fire, found his way back to the Confederacy?"

  "It could be. I just hope he didn't use an alias then."

  Claudia pursed her lips. "Did you notice what he was wearing in that rooftop scene?"

  Martin thought briefly. "It looked like a formal day suit of the time."

  "I think it was too. So he was more likely to be a guest than a worker at the hotel. Whatever he was, I'll find where Carla stashed those books and take a look at them tomorrow."

  Martin nodded then yawned hugely. "Good grief! I think I need my nap if I'm to be any good in the hunt tonight."

  Claudia smiled and touched his hand. "Is jet lag still playing around with you?"

  "More like time-lag." He grinned. "All this jaunting around the years takes it out of one."

  She laughed. "Doesn't it just? Come on, Sherlock! If you're good, I might tuck you in and read you a bedtime story."

  "So long as it isn't a ghost story," Martin replied with a grin, standing up and putting on his coat.

  They emerged onto the steps to find a fine layer of early snow had fallen whilst they were in the library. Claudia laughed with delight. "Great! I love to see the first real snowfall of the year. It makes everything seem so crisp and clean, even a dirty old place like the Big Apple."

  "We don't really have much snow in winter where I live," Martin said sadly. "What we get may last a day or two, and then it vanishes in the rain."

  Claudia looped her arm through his as they walked in the direction of her car. "Martin, it suddenly strikes me I don't really know much about you. Oh, I know your address and all that, but I know next to nothing about you; what you like to do, what kind of place you live in, what it's like living there. All that kind of thing."

  Martin cocked his head to look at her. "Well, if you like, we could have dinner tonight," he said, his heart beating a little faster. "Maybe we could go to see a show or a movie. I can give you all the boring details then." He gave a wry smile. "If nothing else, it'll take our minds off the case for a few hours."

  She stopped and gave him a searching look. "I'd like that," she said slowly.

  "And I'd like to know more about you," he said seriously, a light flush coloring his face.

  Claudia nodded and smiled. "It's a date—providing we go Dutch."

  Martin's smile slipped. "Oh, Claudia! I'd prefer to treat you, you know."

  She tipped her head to one side and thought briefly. "Okay, how about I buy the show tickets if you buy dinner?"

  He grinned with relief. "It's a deal, and a date!"

  Chapter Six

  "I've always loved Oklahoma." Martin hummed a few bars from Oh What a Beautiful Morning in a pleasant tenor, waving his fork gently to the rhythm.

  Claudia grinned at him from across the table. "Yeah, it's a real feel-good show. This is the second time I've seen it. I'm glad you enjoyed it too."

  "I did. It was wonderful!"

  They sat companionably at a table in the restaurant overlooking Times Square. Martin looked at Claudia, thinking how the soft glow of candlelight enhanced her pretty features to real beauty. Her dark eyes took on a sparkle that matched her shimmering black dress as she raised her glass to him. "Thank you for treating me to dinner. I'm really enjoying tonight."

  He raised his own glass. "Thank you for treating me to the show. And I'm enjoying being with you."

  She flushed slightly as they touched glasses. "I feel the same. A shame we couldn't get around to doing this earlier."

  Martin nodded slowly. The moment seemed to stretch. "Have you ever been to Oklahoma?" he asked, to break the awkward silence.

  "Once, barely. My cousin Paula lived in a town called Bartlesville, near the Kansas state line." Her lips twitched. "We're a big country, Martin. Not many Americans get to visit every state in the Union."

  "Of course. I keep forgetting just how big this country is."

  "Oh yeah! I know it's huge. It's just that living here tends to make folks forget until we have to travel anyplace. That's why we have good air services across the country." She popped some risotto into her mouth and chewed for a while, looking at him with a considering expression. "What about you, Martin? Have you traveled much?"

  "A little. I've been to Paris a couple of times, Dublin, Budapest; once as far as Thailand."

  "I'd love to see Paris," she said wistfully.

  "Best to be there with somebody. It's true what they say; it's a city for lovers."

  "Were you there with a lover?" she asked in an arch tone.

  "No, only my wife," he replied, then winced and pressed his fingers to his forehead. "Ouch! That sounded terrible, didn't it?"

  "Yeah, it did!" she said with a wink. "Never mind, Martin, I knew what you meant. When did you go with her?"

  "Five years ago." He toyed with the stem of his wine glass. "It was a last-ditch attempt to save something which wasn't worth saving by then. We got divorced the next year."

  "Why did you break up?"

  "She was having difficulty in accepting my abilities. Then she met a chap where she worked and they had an affair for a few months until I found out. We tried a reconciliation, went to Paris as a kind of second honeymoon." He grimaced. "I'd forgotten the football…the soccer World Cup was being played there that year. The whole place was in an uproar, with noisy fans all over the place." He drank more wine. "Not exactly conducive to rekindling a dying romance."

  "I can imagine!" She chewed her lip thoughtfully for a moment. "Still, at least you tried. A woman can respect that. Do you have any children?"

  "No." Martin shrugged. "Jenny didn't feel ready to commit to children."


  "Perhaps it was for the best. Divorces can be hard on kids. Would you like to have children?" She flushed slightly. "I mean, would you've liked to have had children?"

  "Oh yes." He smiled gently. "I'd love to have kids, someday."

  She smiled back. "So would I—someday. And what about you since your divorce? Has there been anyone else in your life?"

  "Oh, I had a couple of dates, which went nowhere. To be honest, I wasn't ready for another relationship."

  "Until now?" she said lightly.

  "Perhaps," he replied with a little smile. "If the right woman comes along."

  Her eyes sparkled as she turned to her meal once more. "You never know."

  "And what about you, Claudia Mackenzie?" he asked. "What's your story?"

  She chuckled. "Oh, I'm the daughter of two parents, one man, one woman…"

  "Seriously!"

  "Oh, yeah." She shrugged. "Okay, I'm twenty-nine years old, stand five-nine in my bare feet, weight mind-your-own-business, vital statistics take-a-guess…"

  Martin laid down his fork and looked at her and she laughed. "Okay, okay! Seriously. I was born in Indianapolis, capitol of Indiana, to my parents Andrew and Marcia. I have an older brother, Tom, a lawyer who lives in LA, and a younger sister, Caroline, who's a nurse and still lives at home. I can tell you, it isn't easy being Claudia-in-the-Middle with those two." She lifted one shoulder. "It was one reason I left home, got this job here."

  "I have an older brother." Martin grimaced. "Much as I love him, I know what you mean."

  Claudia winked. "Yeah."

  "What do your folks do?"

  "Dad's worked as a manager on the railroad since I was very small; my Mom's a high school teacher. What about your folks?"

  "My father died ten years ago. He had his own horticulture business. My mother's still alive. She runs a bed and breakfast on the North Norfolk coast."

  "That's cool. What does she think of your line of work?"

  "At the Tax Office?"

  "No, silly!"

  Martin laughed. "Just trying to dodge the question! She's not as worried as she used to be. My father was a devout churchgoer, who didn't like my 'mucking about in things we're not meant to know.' It got worse when I told him the afterlife is open to all, regardless of religion—or lack of it."

  "You think?" Claudia asked dubiously.

  "It's been my experience, yes."

  She grinned. "Now that won't please some folks!"

  Martin shrugged. "It didn't please my father! It wasn't easy for my mother, trying to keep the peace between us. Now, she's more relaxed about the idea."

  "The pressure's off."

  "Exactly."

  They paused as the waiter brought their dessert. "Ah, zabaglione!" Claudia smiled, looking at her dish. "Nice, although I would cheerfully kill for a good frozen custard. That and chocolate."

  Martin laid down his spoon. "My name's Martin, and I'm a chocoholic…" he said solemnly.

  She laughed. "Yeah? That is so cool! I don't meet many guys who understand chocolate; it's more a woman thing."

  "Oh, I love it!"

  "Good for you!"

  They ate companionably, enhanced by small talk and the occasional warm glance, until the table was cleared and Claudia stood up.

  "I know a bar near my place. We could go there for a night-cap."

  "I'm with you."

  * * * *

  They took a cab to the bar, driving through a slushy night, the wet streets gleaming like oil under the millions of city lights. Claudia nestled close to Martin, who put his arm around her with a sense of wonder at how natural it felt.

  "Do you like this city?" he asked, turning his head slightly to catch the scent of her hair.

  "It has good and bad points, like anywhere else. On the whole, yeah, I do." She turned to look up at him. "You'll have to come to Indy sometime, though. They call it the Big City with the Small Town atmosphere, and that's true. Maybe, if I can get some time off and you can stay over, we could go together?"

  His heart gave a strong beat. "I'd like that. My visa won't run out for a while, so I'm safe from the authorities."

  "Yeah, there is that to think of." He felt her shiver against him and held her closer. "Since 9/11, everything's been so tense here."

  "Were you here that day?" he asked quietly.

  "Yeah. That Tuesday, I was in the office working on the paperwork for a sale, when someone yelled that there was a fire in one of the World Trade Towers. You could just see them from our floor." She grimaced and looked up at him. "We were all at the windows watching when that second airliner flew into the East tower. Martin, I've never, ever, felt such a sense of horror, of revulsion, of sheer uselessness in all my life! How could anyone do something like that?"

  "I can understand how you felt," he said softly, remembering that time.

  "Those next few days were a nightmare. We all did what we could. I donated blood, which I hope helped somebody. Yet there was such a sense of anger, of fear. I went to bed that night and cried my eyes out."

  "Understandable. It was similar in London when 7/7 happened."

  He held her close, wishing he hadn't raised the subject and trying to think of a way to comfort her. "At least you know there is an afterlife. However cruel the loss in this world, there is survival afterwards."

  "Yeah, I have to hold on to that." She kissed him gently. "Thanks."

  "You're welcome."

  "You're a nice guy, Martin."

  Before he could reply, they arrived outside the bar and the cab swung up to the curb. Claudia hesitated before opening the door. "I hope we're going to get out in the right century this time!"

  * * * *

  Later, much later, he walked with Claudia to her door. She unlocked it, then turned to take him in her arms. "I've really enjoyed tonight," she said softly.

  "Me too."

  She kissed him, a long, tender kiss, and he felt her hands running slowly up and down his back. Martin responded in kind, even going so far as to stroke her butt lightly, savoring the closeness of her, the warmth, the feel of her breasts against his chest. Having a desirable woman in his arms had the inevitable effect. After years of celibacy he felt his growing arousal with embarrassment, but Claudia raised no objection, even snuggling a little closer to him as they kissed.

  At last he groaned and pulled away. "Oh, Claudia! I've really enjoyed tonight." He stroked her long hair and gazed at her wistfully. "I don't want it to end, but I really should get along to the hotel and set to work."

  "Back to the case, huh?" Claudia smiled gently as she held him and looked into his eyes. "Martin, I'd love to invite you in anyway, but I'm not the kind of girl who goes all the way on a first date." She squeezed his hands. "I hope you understand?"

  His lips quirked. "I think I do. You'll have to excuse my…erm, reaction."

  "I do." She tapped him lightly on the nose. "And if you're good, I could find it in my heart to help you out there sometime—but not tonight. It's been wonderful being with you." She pecked him on the lips. "And tomorrow's another day, right?"

  "I look forward to it, Claudia," he said earnestly.

  "Good man." She kissed her finger, then pressed it lightly against his lips. "And goodnight."

  She opened the door, stepped inside her apartment, and was gone, leaving Martin staring at the bland wooden door. The tiny spot of light in the peephole blacked out and he smiled and blew a kiss at it. A soft double knock sounded, Claudia's acknowledgement at seeing him.

  With a light heart, Martin headed down the corridor. Tomorrow would be another day.

  Chapter Seven

  Mike was just going off duty when Martin arrived at the door to the hotel. "Ready for your shift, Mr. Grey?" he asked.

  "As always," Martin replied affably. "You're working late, aren't you, Mike?"

  "One of the guys on this shift was delayed, so I stopped over till he got here." He grinned. "Hey, it's overtime, right?"

  "Oh yes, always worth ha
ving. Anything happen whilst I was out?"

  "Mr. Marshall came and poked round some this afternoon. He had a cute office chick with him. Asked some pointed questions about those photos you and Miss Mackenzie found. Reckon he thought I stashed them there."

  "Odd. He didn't seem to care that much about them."

  "Guess he just used them as an excuse to make trouble. I know his type; a chickenshitter. Met them all the time on the 96th Precinct, and before that in 'Nam. I tell you, Mr. Grey, I don't take kindly to people like him."

  "He isn't the most pleasant individual I've had to deal with either."

  "Glad I'm not working for the puke," Mike said, tucking his lunchbox under his arm and settling his cap straight. "Anyway, the other two guys are here now, doing patrol. I'm off. Have a good one, Mr. Grey."

  "You too, Mike."

  Mike left, leaving Martin to stare round. He realized with a pleasant shock that he missed Claudia. For a moment, he could even imagine the touch of her lips as he kissed her.

  * * * *

  At that same moment some miles away Claudia was showering, washing away the odor of cigarette smoke and stale perfume that lingered on her skin from the date. To her mind, the caress of hot water foaming over her skin mimicked a warm, human touch. Martin's touch and his kiss had been tender as he had held her outside the door scant minutes before, but she chuckled at the memory of his hardness pressing against her, the contrite look in his eyes when he apologized. For all her first-date rules, she'd felt the desire to pull the good-looking Brit inside and ravish him until he begged for more.

  The memories of that first encounter with Joseph and Claire Cloverdale were so strong! Aside from the incredible experience of being there, in that time, the memories of their love-making brought a flush of warmth to her cheeks and a moistness to her pussy which owed little to the shower. As she rubbed the shower gel over her breasts they began to feel so damn tender. Her nipples began to swell and crinkle, until each stood a half-inch proud of her cherry-red areola.

  Claudia stopped washing herself and pressed her forehead to the cool glass of the shower door. "Damn!" She hissed through her teeth, and tried to think of boring things. Work; shopping for food; paying bills; an appointment with her dentist. It was no good. Her mind was still filled with the image of Joseph Cloverdale laying upon her, his cock filling her/Claire's pussy, with Martin Grey staring out of his eyes.