Property law in Mortavia in the 18th Century was surprisingly egalitarian. Both men and women could hold title to property, and in the case of inheritance, property ownership was passed to the eldest child of the deceased, regardless of gender, as a matter of course. Even if the eldest girl child was passed over by deed of will, in favour of a younger boy child, if challenged in a court of law the tradition often held, allowing the female to claim her rightful inheritance.
Violetta nodded with satisfaction, and turned the page. Halfway down, the other paragraph which had interested her seemed to leap from the page.
If the eldest child of the deceased is unable to inherit by reason of mental incapacitation or death, the property would pass to the offspring of such child, if living, rather than to his or her younger siblings.
Violetta ran her fingers over the words. They were reassuring, certainly, but she did not need them. When she was a little girl, Violetta’s mother had told her the castle would be hers one day. Violetta had believed her, but when her mother had died the following year, and when her grandfather passed away just three months later, Uncle Boris, her mother’s younger brother, the father of Viktor and Sebastian, had claimed the title of Count Romanoff. Soon Violetta would claim it back. Countess… she liked the sound of that.
#
Lisa, Craig and Hayden argued long into the night about what to do. Hayden was all for getting the hell out of the castle before they were all chopped up and their body parts hidden in the walls. Craig pointed out that as far as they knew, no one had been murdered – didn’t Edgar explain that the body parts were dug up? Hayden said that this was hardly reassuring.
Lisa said that they should make a list of things that needed investigating before making any decisions. She’d spent the last of her savings on their flights after all. She got a pen and paper from her bag, and together they came up with eight questions.
1.How did Violetta make Dan and Mike forget what they’d seen?
2.How did Swizelsticks make an eyeball seemingly come to life?
3.Why are there arms behind the shower walls? Does this have something to do with the ‘massage’ button? If so, are the arms supposed to come to life? Why don’t they? Who put the arms there? The Professor?
4.Are there really heads in the kitchen pantry? What are the eyeballs and the heads actually for?
5.What did Edgar mean when he said that Norm was made of body parts?
6.Who is “Thkully” and why does he live in the kitchen, and why can’t guests go in there?
7.Who are Harriet and Viktor really? They obviously know about what’s going on in the castle, so they must be hiding something.
8.Are the rest of the staff in on it? Why are the swimming instructor and the doctor always covered from head to toe? Are they hiding something too?
“There’s too much to investigate,” Craig said, looking at the list. “I reckon we’ll have to split up and tackle things separately.”
“Uh-uh!” said Hayden. “Haven’t you watched any horror movies? People get picked off when they separate.”
Lisa thought for a moment. The evidence all pointed to something a lot like a horror movie, but it was probably all some horrible misunderstanding. “Alright,” she said reasonably, “We can stick together for a while, see how things work out. I think the priority is getting into the kitchen. Let’s try in the morning before we go swimming.”
Chapter Eighteen
The watch was slim and stylish – platinum inlaid with marquisate, a fabulously expensive trinket. Violetta had long forgotten who had given it to her – it was over sixty years ago, after all, but the watch still kept perfect time, and now it read two o’clock. The guests would be asleep, as would those staff who slept, and those who didn’t would be busy in their rooms, Violetta was sure. Nevertheless, it was preferable not to be seen skulking about in the night, and so she stood, returned the book to its place on the shelf, concentrated for a moment on her destination, and turned to mist. From her spot on a wing-backed chair, Ebony looked up, yawned, and tucked her head back under her paws.
Violetta drifted formlessly out of the library, into the entranceway, up the stairs and into the wing of the castle containing the guest rooms. She could still be seen of course, as a shapeless mass of particles, like a dark cloud, but you would have to know what you were looking for. She reached the door she was aiming for and concentrated on flowing through the crack underneath it. Reforming on the other side of the door, she was startled to discover that her skin and clothes were covered in metal dust. She rubbed at them, only to have them smear into streaks of rust. “What the hell, Sergio?” she fumed.
“Oh, you’re here,” the man replied, starting. “I hate when you do that. Can’t you knock like a normal person? Oh, and you’d better call me Ken. In case anyone overhears.”
“If anyone overhears,” she whispered, “then your name is the least of your troubles. What is this crap? It must have been under the door.”
Sergio started again. “You’ve messed it up!” He got up out of the chair he’d been sitting in, picked up the jar of iron filings and repaired the line across the threshold. “It’s to prevent ghosts entering. Simple and reliable. Obviously doesn’t work on vamps, though.”
Violetta studied him for a moment, then curled her top lip in a sneer and hissed. “Oh dear, Sergio. A crucifix? And… is that a string of garlic? I suppose you’ve got vials of holy water in your pockets too, do you? What’s the matter, you don’t trust me all of a sudden?”
“I’ve never trusted you, Violetta,” he said in a low voice. “You can’t trust a vamp. But, a deal’s a deal, and I’ll send you a postcard from Russia when I’ve got my merchandise and you’ve got your castle back.”
“And when will that be, exactly? I’ve got you in here, as promised, and you’ve got all the information you need. So what’s stopping you?”
Sergio ran his fingers through his military-style crew-cut hair and chuckled. “You think I’m enjoying playing Ken Trepid? Wearing that itchy wig and uncomfortable false teeth and slathering myself with fake tan? Hell, I talked to a couple tonight who’ve actually met the guy. You didn’t think of that, did you? Anyway, I’m just as keen to get going as you are – maybe more so, given my payoff. But there are some things I’ve got to check out first. You’ve waited three hundred years – surely you can wait a few more days.”
#
Keen to get an early start on investigating the kitchen, Lisa had set an early alarm. When it went off, everyone groaned, but they dragged themselves out of bed and got dressed. Suddenly Lisa was hit by a realisation. This was the first morning for nearly five months that she had not awoken with a yearning for her errant husband. Whatever was going on in the castle, it was certainly a distraction from her problems.
Lisa figured that as breakfast started at seven, the kitchen would have to be open and occupied around six o’clock. Just to be on the safe side, they would go down at 5:30. Sure enough, ten minutes after they had hidden themselves behind various tapestries and curtains in the main entrance hall, they saw Edgar in his uniform emerge from the door to the right of the dining hall, whistling as he wheeled a trolley laden with breakfast supplies. He stopped, removed a key from an inside pocket, locked the door behind him, and then proceeded to push the trolley into the dining hall. They heard the sound of the dining hall door also being locked.
Now they knew where the kitchen was. Lisa slipped out from her hiding place and crept to the door. She turned the handle gently and pushed, but as expected, the door didn’t move. She bent down and looked through the keyhole, convinced she could detect movement beyond, but before she could make out any shapes, there was a crash just by her ear. Startled, she bolted back to her hiding place, then peeked out. On the occasional table right next to where she had been standing, a vase had toppled over, spilling flowers onto the floor. Had she accidentally nudged the table? She didn’t think so. After a moment, she returned to the kitchen door, but the keyhole was
now blocked from the other side. She quickly righted the vase and picked up the flowers, held a hand up to signal the other two to stay put, and then slunk to the dining hall door to see what Edgar was up to. The keyhole here was blocked too. Lisa shrugged, turned back towards the stairs, and motioned for Craig and Hayden to join her.
Back in their room, Lisa was about to inform them of her lack of success, but Craig cut her off. “Did you see what happened with that vase?”
Lisa frowned. “No, what? I knocked it down, I guess. A shame, because I thought I could see something through the keyhole, but when I went back again, it was blocked.”
“Aha!” said Craig. “That explains it! They used the vase to distract you while they blocked the keyhole!”
“What are you talking about?”
“You didn’t knock the table. I was watching! It was like the vase sort of lifted up into the air and then fell over on purpose. You saw, didn’t you Hayden?”
“Well, no. Lisa was blocking my view.”
Lisa frowned at Craig. “You think the vase fell over how? By magic? To stop me looking through the keyhole?”
“Maybe. Makes sense.”
“In any case, I want to get into that kitchen. I need to get the key from Edgar. Tell you what, leave me alone with him after breakfast. I’ll figure something out.”
Craig yawned. “Okay, but let’s get another hour’s sleep.”
#
Once Lisa and the boys had left, Sergio, dressed once more as Ken, emerged from his own hiding place in the entrance hall, and rubbed his chin, thoughtfully. The needle of his meter had gone wild over a huge surge of electromagnetic activity in the vicinity of the vase when it had fallen over. One of the ghosts had obviously pushed it, stopping the woman from snooping through the keyhole. He consulted the map of the castle that Violetta had provided him. The door the woman had been trying to peep through was the kitchen, where the skeleton lived and worked, and where the zombie band could be found working before lunch and dinner. Sergio wondered if the woman had a particular reason to be snooping around. Did she and the boys suspect the staff, or was it simply some sort of spy game? Well, they weren’t doing a very good job of it, either way. Sergio smiled and patted his belt sewn full of iron sand which allowed him to slip past ghosts unnoticed. You had to have the right equipment to do the job properly. He looked once more at the map, and as ever, his eyes were pulled to Violetta’s hand drawn arrow marking out the hidden chamber under the stairs where the Count slept.
#
When they came down to breakfast, still yawning, Lisa and the boys found the dining hall door wedged open invitingly. A very simple buffet lay out on one long table, and they helped themselves. Doreen, sitting next to a sulking Peaches, waved them over to her table, suggesting that as the only teenagers in the castle, the boys, Christopher Fisher and her daughter should be friends. Peaches rolled her eyes at this. Lisa suspected Doreen was trying to offload the child, and felt sorry for her. She told Doreen about the history lecture she had arranged to take place in the library that afternoon. Doreen told her that Peaches would certainly attend, then began to make small-talk. Sighing and groaning, Peaches injected one-word complaints -“lame!” “pathetic!” – into the conversation anytime Doreen paused for breath. Lisa was only half-listening, keeping an eye out for members of staff, but they were absent this morning.
Guests came and went, nodding genially to each other over cereal, toast, orange juice and coffee. The sheer normality of the breakfast experience might have made Lisa start to doubt their worries of the previous evening – if they hadn’t had the evidence of the arm. She would never forget picking up its dead weight, and the feel of the rough hairs and cold spongy skin as she forced it back through the slot behind the shower. “Bleh,” she said aloud, and pushed away her soggy cornflakes.
Their meal completed, most of the guests drifted away, eager to get the most out of their free vacations. Lisa nodded to Craig and Hayden as they left, and Craig sent back a thumbs-up sign and a none-too-subtle wink. After a final assurance from Doreen that they would remember to come to the history lecture, Lisa finally found herself alone in the dining hall. She took another glass of orange juice to justify her presence, and waited. Before long, Edgar entered, pushing an empty trolley. “Oh!” he said, when he saw Lisa. “Are you leaving thoon? Only, I have to clear up the breakfatht disheth.”
“I can help you if you like,” Lisa offered.
Edgar looked horrified. “Oh, no, no. It would be unthpeakable for a guetht to do our work for uth!” He looked up for a moment, then amended, “I mean, do my work for me. No, you run along and enjoy yourthelf.”
“Well then,” Lisa said, “I could just sit here and keep you company while you work. We could talk.”
Edgar looked stricken. There were several tables to clear of dirty dishes and tablecloths, not to mention the serving bowls on the buffet. Then every table had to be polished, and the floor swept. He was expecting to share the job with Boo, Sue and Lou, just as he had when they’d set it up this morning, but they couldn’t get to work in front of this woman.
Edgar was relieved when Violetta walked into the room. She looked at Edgar and said, “Get to work, Mr. Gore.” Then she regarded Lisa. “The breakfast sitting is over, I suggest you return to your room and prepare for the day’s activities.” It did not sound like a suggestion. Reluctantly, feeling like a small child, Lisa got out of her seat. Violetta was standing near the door, ready to close it once she had departed, while Edgar was beginning to clear her table. Thinking quickly, scarcely believing her own boldness, Lisa brought her hand down on the tines of a fork, sending it somersaulting into the air. It landed on the floor between Lisa and Edgar. Edgar bent to retrieve it, at the same as Lisa pretended to do the same. As the hunchback’s jacket opened, Lisa tried to slip a hand into the inside pocket, but the angle was too awkward. She couldn’t grab the key.
Violetta cleared her throat loudly. “See you later,” Lisa said to Edgar, and left the room. Violetta closed the door and she heard the key turn in the lock behind her.
“No luck,” Lisa said once she was back in their room.
“So what are we going to do?” Hayden asked.
“We’ll think of something,” Craig replied. “Meanwhile, we’d better go snorkelling since we’ve already signed up for that. Keep your eyes and ears open, though. We might see other weird stuff.”
“There’s the history lecture after lunch too,” Lisa reminded them. “After all the trouble to get the Count to agree to it, we’d better show up.”
Lisa changed into her bathing suit in the bathroom, trying not to think what was behind the wall, while the boys changed into their swimming trunks in the bedroom. They wrapped towels around themselves, then headed downstairs. They had been told to meet the swimming instructor in the gym, where they would also get their snorkels and masks. Following signs for the gym led them across the entrance hall to the front of the castle and down a spiral staircase which curved into the basement.
From what she knew of medieval architecture, Lisa figured this massive lower room of the castle had originally been a dungeon. Now it was a gymnasium, of course, but some of the fitness equipment that lined the walls did not look dissimilar to torture equipment. Dan and Mike were each attached to one of the devices, and their grunts and groans testified to the difficulty of the workout. Like them, Norm was also pulling on chains to raise and lower huge metal weights, but he made it look effortless. In fact, he released one hand from the massive load he was supporting just to wave at the group as they passed by. Lisa stared back at him, trying to see whether he could really be made up of dead body parts. He was an odd looking man, that was true, but his skin tone was healthy, not green like the arm they had found behind the shower.
Almost in the middle of the floor, protected by a low wall, was what appeared to be an indoor swimming pool. It was circular, except for a long channel that extended out towards a door in one of the walls. Blake w
as standing by the pool talking to the two old ladies. Once he spotted Lisa and the boys, he opened the door in the wall, and they could see that the channel extended out of the castle all the way into the lake. Blake passed out facemasks and snorkels and they tried them on for size. Then Mrs. Meeks and Mrs. Trellis both dropped their robes, revealing brightly patterned swimming costumes, and a lot of saggy skin. Lisa, Craig and Hayden removed their towels and stood by the edge of the pool, waiting for Blake’s instruction. Blake invited the elderly ladies to enter the water first, and after a modest amount of elbowing, Mrs. Trellis reached him ahead of her friend. Blake put out a hand to assist her down the stairs, prompting her to feign unsteadiness and cling to his arm. “Oh!” she simpered. “This is just like that scene from your 1956 film, Pool Party Paradise!”
“1957, I think you’ll find,” Mrs Meeks corrected her, following quickly behind so that she could put a hand on Blake’s shoulder for support.
Blake coughed and released the two women into the pool, turning towards the rest of his group. Gingerly, Lisa climbed down the steps and into the water, expecting it to feel like ice. The lakewater was cool, however, not cold, and Lisa wondered again why Blake wore a full wetsuit complete with hood, mittens and booties. Perhaps it was just for modesty or vanity. If the old ladies were right, and he had appeared in a movie in the late 1950s, then he would have to be at least eighty. But why would a fancy resort put an eighty-year-old in charge of a snorkelling expedition?
The six of them bobbed in the water, and then the trademark grin appeared between the chin of Blake’s hood and the bottom of his tinted mask. “Ok, folks. Just test your snorkels here, and then we’ll be off.”
Obligingly, the group put their faces into the water and practised breathing through the tube. Then Craig looked at Blake and said, “What about your snorkel?”
The grin vanished. “Oh, yeah,” Blake said. “Excuse me a moment.” He sprang up out of the water and reappeared with a snorkel which he rather awkwardly wedged into his mouth and tested out. “Okay,” Blake said. “Follow me!”
He ducked under the water and struck out along the channel, which was about as wide as one lane of an ordinary swimming pool. The group followed. Soon they passed out through the door and into the lake. Lisa gasped at seeing the castle from this angle. It towered over them, and the scudding clouds in the blue sky behind made it seem as if it was falling forward, about to crash into the lake. Looking quickly away, she saw that the others already had their heads down, looking at the underwater sights, so Lisa joined them. The visibility was surprisingly good and Blake was able to point out various shellfish clinging to the island’s rocks under the surface. He then gestured for them to follow him as he swam around to the front of the castle. Here, there were an abundance of fish, and Lisa began to enjoy herself, entirely forgetting about her lost love, and almost forgetting about their mission.
The Last Resort Page 15