Midnight at the Barclay Hotel

by Fleur Bradley

  His accent was very British, and Fiona responded in an almost British accent, “Oh jolly good.”

  “Are you mocking me, Ms. Fleming?”

  “No, no!” She composed herself and uncrossed her fingers and toes. “I’m an actress, I’m just always . . . practicing.”

  Mr. Clark did not sound impressed. “The car will pick you up at four p.m. sharp, Ms. Fleming. Don’t be late.”

  Fiona was about to tell him she would be ready with her suitcase, but the line went dead. Just as well. She had to hurry, to gather her costumes for the weekend. This was her chance to fix her mistakes and make things right. Talk to Mr. Barclay, perhaps, about her play.

  Plus, Fiona Fleming had a show to put on.

  * * *

  AND THERE YOU have it, folks: librarian Chelsea, CEO Jackie Jacobson, cowboy Buck, actress Fiona, and Detective Walker. Plus our two kid stragglers, JJ and Penny, all ready for one prize weekend getaway.

  It’s about time we got to the Barclay Hotel.

  PENNY AND DETECTIVE Walker stood outside his small house, ready for their ride to the Barclay Hotel. The driver was exactly on time—something the detective could appreciate. Punctuality was an underrated quality.

  Penny clutched her book bag and bounced on her heels. This trip was so exciting! She couldn’t wait to take lots of pictures, so she could show her friends when she got home to Florida. Maybe for once everyone wouldn’t assume that all she did was read.

  The car was long, like a limo of some sort. Penny had never been in a limo before. She wanted to take pictures, but there wasn’t time to pull out her phone. The driver held the door, looking all official in his suit and hat.

  There were two benches facing each other. A woman sat on the forward-facing part. She was on the phone talking about troubleshooting things. And there was a boy. Penny guessed he was about her age. He clutched a backpack on his lap, like it held a treasure or something.

  “Hi,” Penny said as she slid to the far end of the rear-facing seat. Her legs dangled off the seat but couldn’t touch the ground. She’d never liked being short; it made her feel like a toddler.

  Her grandpa slid in. He looked perturbed. “I hope I don’t get carsick, facing backward,” he muttered.

  “You can sit up front if you like,” the driver offered.

  The detective hesitated. He looked at Penny, clearly worried about her sitting alone.

  “It’s fine, Grandpa,” Penny said. She put her book bag next to her. “It’s not a long drive.”

  The detective nodded, and moved to the front of the car on the passenger side.

  “I’m JJ,” the boy said. “Did you win too?”

  Penny nodded. “My grandpa did. I’m tagging along.”

  “Me too.” JJ pointed to his mother. “Sorry, my mom’s always busy.”

  “I get it. My parents are like that sometimes too,” Penny said. If they weren’t running their business, they were underwater in their scuba gear. “I’m Penny.”

  There was an uncomfortable silence. They drove up some winding roads—because she was facing backward, Penny couldn’t really tell much from what she saw out her window. There were lots of pine trees, and she could feel that they were going up in elevation. It made her a little dizzy. The altitude took some getting used to, and they were obviously going high up into the mountains.

  JJ said, out of the blue, “Do you think the Barclay Hotel is haunted?” He seemed very excited to go, just like Penny.

  Penny hesitated. “I don’t know . . .”

  “Do you ever watch Ghost Catchers?”

  Penny shook her head. She was about to tell JJ that she did watch a lot of Antiques Roadshow, but she thought that might make her sound boring.

  “It’s pretty good.” JJ thought it was a great show, but didn’t want to seem too eager. Penny could tell by the way he was trying to hide his excited expression. “They go to these haunted places and try to get evidence of ghosts.”

  Penny almost rolled her eyes. “Like what evidence?”

  JJ sat up a little. “There was an apparition, a ghost, and they caught it on camera at this old tavern in Maine. And then they got a voice recording of a spirit telling them to go away.”

  Penny seemed to think that over for a second. “How about the Barclay Hotel? What’s the story there?”

  JJ said, “Supposedly, there’s a lady in a white nightdress who roams the halls of the hotel. They say she’s Mr. Barclay’s wife, looking for her daughter.”

  “That’s kind of sad,” Penny said.

  “I know.” JJ paused. “And there’s a little boy who died there, way back in, like, the nineteen fifties or something. He was the son of one of the hotel’s guests. They say he sometimes plays in the halls with his marble collection.”

  “Who is they?” Penny asked. She really didn’t believe in all this ghost stuff. Poppycock, that’s what it was.

  “Employees of the Barclay Hotel,” JJ said.

  This didn’t seem like very strong evidence to Penny, but JJ was clearly excited.

  He continued, “There’s this creepy ghost caretaker named Mr. Roberts who floats around outside. And then there’s room two seventeen, of course—the most haunted room in the hotel . . .”

  Suddenly, JJ squinted. “You don’t believe in ghosts. You’re a skeptic.”

  Penny shrugged. “I just don’t think it’s real.”

  JJ clutched his backpack. “Well, I’m going to investigate this weekend. I’m a ghost hunter.”

  “How do you even do that? Hunt for ghosts, I mean.” Penny was a little curious now. She liked investigating things. It’s why she loved going to the library: there was always something new to discover.

  JJ said, “I have a ghost hunting kit.” He looked at Penny. “I still have to investigate more about the hotel history. That’s part of ghost hunting too: doing research.” He unzipped his backpack and pulled out a giant book. It had a picture of the Barclay Hotel on it, surrounded by a gilded frame. JJ handed the book to Penny.

  The History of the Barclay Hotel.

  “Wow, this thing weighs as much as I do,” Penny said. It was no exaggeration. She opened it, and saw the tiny print, with only a few black-and-white photos throughout.

  “Boring,” JJ said.

  “But I’ll bet it has good information on the hotel,” Penny countered. “Research. That part sounds interesting.” Penny got tossed around as they made a sharp turn one way, then another. She held on as best as she could. The book actually helped weigh her down.

  “I hope I get to stay in room two seventeen,” JJ said.

  Penny handed the book back. She thought about JJ’s ghost hunting, and his investigation. And she thought about her own goal: to have a story to tell when she got home. And not one from a book this time. “I’ll make you a bet,” she said. “I bet I can prove that the Barclay Hotel isn’t haunted.”

  That was quite the gamble.

  JJ raised his chin. “You’re on.”

  Just as Penny was feeling like she might get carsick, the driver slowed. From her window, she saw a massive clearing appear between the pine trees, like a surprise.

  Or a secret rather, hidden in the Rockies.

  There it was!

  The Barclay Hotel.

  THE BARCLAY HOTEL was even more impressive than the photos. The front porch was massive and ran the length of the white clapboard building. There were large identical turrets to the left and right, making the place look like a castle.

  The driver stopped at the front of the hotel on the gravel driveway.

  Penny was awestruck. She was craning her neck to peek through the car window, and JJ noticed that her legs weren’t touching the ground.

  “This place is amazing, isn’t it?” Penny said. All JJ could do was nod in agreement. He still couldn’t believe he was here!

>   JJ’s mom frowned. “My call dropped.”

  “There’s no cell phone service at the Barclay Hotel, ma’am,” the driver said. Penny remembered this from reading that teeny tiny print on the invitation, because she had been paying attention.

  Jackie’s eyes went wide.

  “Is there Wi-Fi?” Jackie asked. Her voice sounded strained.

  The driver shook his head as he got out and opened the door for them. “Mr. Barclay believed the hotel should be an escape from the outside world.”

  “Which Mr. Barclay are you talking about?” JJ asked. See, JJ was a sharp kid. He noticed the driver was talking about Mr. Barclay in the past tense. “Must be Mr. Barclay Senior, the owner’s father. Right?”

  The driver didn’t respond. He just took Jackie’s suitcase out of the trunk and set it on the gravel. Penny’s grandpa got his own bag and observed the hotel with a smile.

  JJ’s mom stared at her cell phone for a long moment, then looked up at the Barclay Hotel as she let out a sigh. “That hot tub had better be good,” she mumbled.

  But JJ wasn’t going to let his mom’s frustration ruin his weekend. He was at the Barclay Hotel!

  A man walked out onto the porch. He was tall, wearing a dark suit with a striped vest, and a chain that disappeared into his pocket. His shoes were shiny, and he had a red bow tie and a very, very big mustache. If you were a mustache expert, you’d recognize it as a handlebar mustache. “Welcome to the Barclay Hotel, Mrs. Jacobson,” the mustached man said. “I’m the butler, Mr. Clark.” He looked down his nose at JJ. “And this must be your son.”

  “Yes, this is JJ. I mentioned I was bringing him when I RSVP’d,” Jackie said. Sometimes, JJ really loved his mom’s bossy CEO attitude. Like right then.

  “And I assume this is your granddaughter, Detective Walker?” the butler asked Penny’s grandpa.

  He was a detective? JJ felt something shift inside his brain. Something was weird about this trip, and it wasn’t anything to do with ghosts. JJ smelled a secret, if that was possible.

  Detective Walker said, “That’s correct. Penny is my granddaughter. We’ll share a room.”

  “Very well.” The butler sniffed. He stepped aside. “You can bring your luggage in and I will point you to the parlor—or perhaps you would consider it a den.”

  JJ was never quite sure what a den was. A sitting room? A place where you kept your lions?

  His mom, the detective, and the butler went inside. But JJ was still taking in the Barclay Hotel. He couldn’t believe his luck.

  Penny saw a black cat in one of the upstairs windows. But when she blinked, it was gone.

  Before she could tell JJ, another girl who looked to be about their age came running out onto the porch. “Here you guys are! Thank goodness. I thought this weekend was going to be a total drag.”

  Penny pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose and frowned.

  JJ blinked. “Who are you?”

  “I’m Emma. And we’re all going to be friends.”

  SOME PEOPLE LOVE to be on a team (like a Battle of the Books team, for example), working together, high-fiving each other, and all of that. Others like to work by themselves, in a little corner, preferably with a pencil and a notebook. In quiet. Penny and JJ were both more of the loner variety.

  But Emma was clearly the team type. Her grin was so big that you could see her bright braces and the blue elastic bands on the sides. Her plaid shirt hung loose over a faded T-shirt with a band picture on it—the Black Eyed Peas. JJ almost asked her about it, but then he remembered that he wasn’t at the Barclay to make friends. He was on a mission to ghost hunt.

  “And here I was thinking this weekend was going to be boring!” said Emma.

  “There aren’t any other kids here?” JJ asked.

  “Nope.” Emma shook her head. “We’re just waiting on some lady named Finella, Fibella . . . something. The guests are all adults.” She made a face and crossed her eyes. “You see why I thought this weekend would be boring?”

  A tall man wearing a cowboy hat lingered on the porch. He looked like he didn’t want to go inside. And JJ saw Ms. Chelsea, the town librarian. He did his best to avoid looking at her—she’d probably remind him of the overdue Book Club books that were somewhere under his bed. But JJ really didn’t have to worry. Ms. Chelsea was too busy rushing inside, her blonde hair whipping behind her. She was carrying a large round bag.

  “We should go inside,” Emma said. “There’s a cocktail party in half an hour. I heard there’s going to be a big announcement.” She leaned in close to JJ and Penny. Emma smelled like cookies. Or cake, maybe—no, it was frosting. She whispered, “Knowing Mr. Barclay, I think I have an idea what the announcement is.”

  “What?” Penny was curious.

  Emma made a motion across her lips, like she was zipping them. “It’s a secret. I’ve sworn an oath. Well, my uncle did. He’s the chef here.” Emma was a straggler too. No invitation, but here for the fun anyway.

  “You can tell me,” JJ said, as they walked across the threshold, into the Barclay Hotel. It smelled like old books and wood polish. “Technically, I’m not invited, so the announcement isn’t for me.”

  Emma thought about it, then shook her head. “Nope.” And she walked backward with a silly grin on her face, until she turned a corner and just vanished down the hall. This girl was odd.

  Penny looked toward the reception desk. Her grandpa was arguing with Mr. Clark (probably asking for that spa service), and JJ’s mom looked like she was about ready to join in.

  “Check out these masks,” JJ called from the other side of the den.

  Penny walked over to JJ, past the big arched windows that gave you a bird’s-eye view of the sky and the mountains, and the deep valley below. It was a little terrifying to Penny, who’d never been in the mountains.

  But she was going to be brave, she reminded herself.

  Penny focused her attention on the wall that JJ had pointed to. There were about a dozen shadow boxes, the kind of frames where you put stuff on display. Each one had a mask in it: some were ornamental with embellishments like feathers and gems. Others were plain, black or white.

  “Are they theater masks?” JJ asked.

  Penny nodded. “I think so. Mr. Barclay loves theater.”

  “How do you know that?” JJ asked. He peered into one of the shadow boxes.

  Penny shrugged. “I read up on this place before we came. I like to do my research. You know, we should look at that book you have, The History of the Barclay Hotel. I think I saw a map in there.”

  JJ pulled the book from his backpack. They sat in the big chairs by the enormous stone fireplace.

  Penny took the book and thumbed through the pages. She quickly found the map listed in the index, and opened the book. JJ was impressed. He might just want Penny on his ghost hunting team after all. Even if she was a skeptic. “Look, it’s all right here.”

  JJ leaned closer. The hotel was enormous, that was obvious from the map. There was a Cupcake Shoppe (spelled old-fashioned like that), a carousel, a bowling alley, a pool—there was even a hedge maze outside. “Wow,” he muttered.

  “Yeah—fun, right?” Penny said.

  But JJ’s mind was on his ghost hunting. “That’s a lot of ground to cover with my basic ghost hunting kit.” He really wished he had those big suitcases with tripods and power cable reels now.

  Penny said, “You’ll have to show me all that stuff later. If I’m going to disprove that ghosts exist, I’ll need to join you.” She flipped the pages of the book again. “I saw something here, a few chapters back . . .”

  JJ tried to keep up, but all those pages with tiny letters made him dizzy. Thankfully, Penny didn’t make him feel bad about not liking to read.

  “Found it! ‘The Ghosts of the Barclay Hotel’—see, there’s a whole chapter.” Penny took a minute t
o read the introduction.

  JJ looked at the pictures. They were black-and-white, and pretty fuzzy. There was one of a really tall man in overalls. “That’s Mr. Roberts,” JJ said. It said so under the photo.

  Penny nodded. “It says that the ghosts are bound to specific spaces.”

  JJ nodded too. “They can only go where they spent most of their time when they were alive. It’s one of the rules of the supernatural world.”

  “What other rules are there?” Penny glanced at the reception desk. Her grandpa was now arguing even louder. Something to do with a facial.

  “The ghosts can’t talk to each other, is another one,” JJ said. “And kids are more likely to see them.”

  “That’s handy for us, I guess,” Penny said. She smiled. “If I believed in ghosts.”

  JJ ignored her jab. “What else does the book say?”

  Penny flipped a page. “It says here that at the Barclay Hotel, midnight is . . .” She paused.

  “What?” JJ asked.

  Penny looked up. “Midnight is the ghostly hour.”

  “MIDNIGHT AT THE Barclay Hotel,” Penny went on to read from the book, “is when all spirits are drawn out and the grandfather clock plays ‘Ode to Joy.’”

  Just then, the clock chimed, making both Penny and JJ jump.

  They looked at the grandfather clock. JJ said, “That one?”

  “I guess we’ll find out at midnight,” Penny said. “Spooky.” She flipped the pages. “There’s also a whole section about Mr. Barclay’s family. Says here he has a daughter named Constance.”

  “Why don’t we go check out the hotel instead of reading about it?” JJ said.

  Penny nodded and closed the book.

  JJ took the book from Penny, who was reluctant to let it go. She could have it as far as JJ was concerned, but his dad probably wouldn’t agree. He’d given the book to JJ, after all.