They strolled into the main room towards the reception desk and Kelsey finally had a chance to take in the space. She caught her breath again. They stood in a large, open area which was obviously the main part of the hotel where guests congregated during the day. She breathed deeply. The scent of cedar, the lightest touch of floor polish, and a hint of flowers drifted to her. These smells were the only things that seemed standard in the entire hotel. The entire décor exuded a chaotic decadence, which seemed to be the exact opposite of every upscale hotel where she’d ever stayed at before. The Craggs had apparently taken great care with the design of the establishment and Kelsey felt like she’d stepped right into Queen Victoria’s time. The space oozed romance and opulence, and its ornamentation was quintessential mid-1800s.
Colors and patterns mingled everywhere in a hodgepodge array of shades ranging from mustard and rust, to teal and lavender. Luxurious fabrics draped every surface, from the sumptuous rugs on the glowing cedar floors, to the lace and tapestry coverings laid across the mahogany end tables. Thick, heavy wooden furniture and upholstered couches surrounded the ten foot long marble fireplace. A fire was dying down in the hearth, giving off warmth and a comforting crackle and pop.
The decadent theme flowed throughout the entire reception lounge and into the adjoining rooms. There was so much “stuff and fluff” that Kelsey felt the word restraint was not even part of the vocabulary here and she was trying to take it all in. From the heavy textured wallpaper, to the porcelain knickknacks, framed pictures covering the walls, layered window treatments, massive couches and stained glass, it could have been a claustrophobic disaster. But, instead of being stifling, she could tell a skilled designer had their say in this, making it exude sophistication and romance. Kelsey realized she absolutely adored it. The feeling she’d had outside of it being sinister slowly left her, replacing itself with a desire to roam down the darkened hallways hand in hand with Desmond to find out what treasures the other rooms held.
The hotel was ornate and unusual and the staff played the part of the Victorian elite well with their formal, era-styled dress and proper demeanor. It’s all a façade, Kelsey. A game. A well designed theater. You need to just relax.
Through an elegant set of French doors, Kelsey glimpsed a dining room beyond with the same decadent theme. Damask fabric linens covered the tables, which were already set for guests with sparkling china plates and gold silverware. Heavy painted sideboards were filled to excess with servers and dishware that belonged to a myriad of different china sets. Vases filled with bouquets adorned every table, and Kelsey realized that was where the smell of flowers came from. She vaguely wondered where the Craggs got fresh flowers from in the middle of the winter in this remote part of the mountains.
Glittering chandeliers hung throughout the dining room and from her vantage point, she could make out more white marble fireplaces lining the walls. Kelsey turned to peek through the large windows in front, but could make out nothing but streaks of snow illuminated by the outside lights. She leaned into Desmond and just listened to the macabre music playing lightly over the speakers. Some sort of strange melody made up of harps and flutes, but not the classical kind she was used to hearing. She relaxed even further.
Deep cherry wood moldings and an ornate wooden banister leading upstairs to the second floor warmed up the entire interior. The banister appeared to be carved from the same wood used for the extensive mahogany bar that stretched across the back far wall. Above the bar, crystal glassware hung in neat racks and the backlighted shelves held only top-shelf alcohol. Yes, this hotel had definitely been built for high end entertaining.
But it was eerily empty.
Kelsey leaned towards Desmond and whispered in his ear. “Where is everyone?” She knew this place was remote and expensive, but she expected to see more people milling about in this decadent space.
“I’m not sure.” He turned to Elsa. “Are we the only guests staying here tonight?” he joked.
Their hostess arched her brows. “Good heavens, no. We did have some cancellations with the blizzard, but we still have five rooms booked for the weekend. There was entertainment this evening, but you just missed it. Performances close at ten o’clock out of respect for the guests and staff.”
Wait, just five guest rooms booked in a place this size? This was a large rambling hotel with easily fifty to a hundred guest rooms. From where Kelsey stood, she could see many rooms and hallways jutting from this front reception hall alone.
Elsa must have read her expression. “While this place is quite large, we don’t open many of the wings at the same time unless we’re hosting a wedding or a special event. It saves us on heat and electricity. The third floor east wing and second floor west wing are open to guests this weekend, but the rest of the wings and the fourth and fifth floors are completely closed off. It used to be where the help lived, but over thirty years ago we built a lovely separate staff house for our worker families at the edge of the property, along with a few cottages. My family still live in the hotel itself, in a suite of apartments on the first floor.
“Truth be told, this is a small staff of family and workers. We don’t need a lot of people to run the place and we prefer it when we only have a select number of distinguished guests. It allows us to cater to you the way you deserve.”
Distinguished guests? She must mean rich. Desmond, just how much did you pay for this little romantic retreat?
Her thoughts were interrupted by a young woman wearing a simple knee length green plaid dress, emerging from a side room with a welcome tote bag. She was a much younger version of both Elsa and Dooley with her long, thin face, and regal posture, though her hair was bright blond and bobbed at her shoulders. She placed the tote bag on the bar and Kelsey could see the top of a champagne bottle peeking out from it. She also smelled chocolate and the sweet scent of strawberries. Her stomach rumbled and her mouth watered.
Kelsey let Desmond fill out the paperwork and leaned back against the reception bar. She rolled her shoulders and stretched her arms in front of her to loosen her muscles. Her chest and jaw smarted from the airbag hitting her and the walk had been exhausting, but now she was finally relaxing in the comforting warmth of the hotel. It was Thursday evening and they’d hoped to get to the Mountain House early and spend a long weekend together before Desmond finally returned to work back at the police precinct on Monday. She still couldn’t fathom why he wanted to get back to his job after everything he’d been through recently. Not to mention, he might not even have a position to even return to. They’d told him he’d been put on temporary leave while they sorted out just where the hell he’d been the past two months. He planned on ignoring the leave status and just show up as if it were business as usual. “Let them kick me out, Kelsey. I’m one of the best detectives on staff and have the cleanest record.”
She had said nothing in response. He was determined and the case had stuck in his craw. He had worked diligently on the Misterio trafficking file and he couldn’t just let it go. Before Desmond disappeared to Aihika, he had been tracking a man who had smuggled in weapons and biotoxic contraband for months and there was talk that it was linked to the recent Middle East poisonings of terrorist strongholds.
But, new problems had come up. While Desmond was gone, “off to wherever he’d decided to disappear to without telling a soul,” the police apparently found the guy and prosecuted him. In a month. That was impossible. Things just didn’t happen that quickly in the legal system. But it had.
Desmond was certain they had the wrong man. He couldn’t believe Sean, his partner, had made the collar after a random anonymous lead. And to have the perp be Mickie Laruso? Laruso was a small time thug with the IQ of a peanut, but sure enough, Sean found the guy with a horde of guns recently shipped straight from the Middle East along with crates of seeds eventually proven to be toxic. Mickie told the police that he’d just been hired to hold these items, but there was so much evidence piled up against him that it seemed a cut an
d dry case. If Mickie had been framed, whoever did it had done a spectacular job and had greased some serious wheels. The guy was tried and convicted in just shy of a month.
Mickie’s lawyer, a hotshot minor celebrity personality named Richard Bain, appeared all over the news claiming his client was set up, but no one listened and Bain couldn’t get the case re-opened. Everyone was happy to have this case resolved. Misterio had been a huge headache for the Mayor of New York and Chief of Police and, politically, they just wanted the case to go away.
But Richard Bain was persistent and kept the story in the news. He was one of those pretty boy lawyers that always seemed to be trying to grab the limelight. With his signature beard and mustache and his refusal to wear a jacket or tie in court, opting instead for expensive button-downs and tight slacks that showed off his sculpted physique, he was a constant in the entertainment rag mags. His photo shoot in the “Hottest Lawyers,” issues for a recent magazine solidified his heart throb status. Kelsey thought Bain’s entire façade ludicrous.
Kelsey had tried to reason with Desmond. “Just let it go, Des. You’ll have other cases.”
He’d shaken his head. “I got into a physical fist fight with Mr. Misterio, remember? You think that small time punk could get the scrap on me? Punch me in the jaw like that? A stiff wind would blow that guy down. Misterio is as tall as me and built like a fullback. I’m telling you, it’s not Mickie Laruso. Misterio is still out there and I’m not going to just let it go because if I do, the smuggling is still going to happen and no one will even know about it until it’s too late. I’m going after the REAL Misterio, with or without the department’s support.”
“Desmond, Mickie could have been working with someone. He’d have to have had a team behind him to get as far as he did.”
“Then I’m going to find out who they are. One way or another.”
But after only being home a few weeks, Desmond had found nothing and he’d not had the department’s backing. He’d called in every favor he was owed, but the shipments had seemingly ceased, the leads had dried up and the informants went dark. It seemed like Mickie really was their one and only suspect, and either he had been framed brilliantly or he was an incredible actor. Kelsey thought it was the former.
Mickie just didn’t fit Misterio’s MO, but there was evidence piled up against him, documenting his activities for the past eight years. Bills of sale, taped conversations, plane trips booked to the Middle East. His deceased mother was implicated as well. A cache of weapons turned up in a hidden bunker in her backyard in Queens. Mickie continued to deny any involvement and screamed bloody murder that he’d been framed, right until they shoved him onto the bus to take him to prison.
Well, at the very least, Kelsey intended to make Desmond forget all about the Misterio case for the entire weekend. She leaned forwards and hugged Desmond around his waist as he handed over his credit card. He craned his head over his shoulder and smiled down at her.
“You’re all done,” Elsa said. She handed him two keys and moved around the desk. They began to follow her towards the staircase, when she suddenly stopped and cocked her head, as if she heard something. An odd expression crossed her face. It was only for a fleeting second, but for a moment Kelsey could have sworn Elsa looked concerned. But then she smiled and turned to her granddaughter. “Carla, my dear, will you be so kind as to take them to their rooms for me? I have to attend to something else.”
“Of course, Grandma. I’d be more than happy to.”
And in a flash, Elsa vanished down one of the darkened hallways, the train of her velvet dress sashaying behind her. The old woman moved faster than Kelsey would have expected from someone her age. Like a wisp of black smoke, she disappeared from view.
Carla came around the counter. “You’ll have to excuse my grandmother. She takes her job very seriously. I swear the woman can hear the droplets from a leaky faucet in a far corner of the hotel. Don’t get me started on if there’s an alarm clock not turned off in one of the guest rooms. She makes everyone crazy until she finds it. And our costumes? Don’t you just love the dresses?”
Kelsey nodded. “They’re beautiful.”
Carla nodded. “They all come from antique and thrift shops in England. My grandmother has been collecting them for over fifty years. She’s a bit of a hoarder, as you can tell from all the decorations and accessories, but it just adds to the authenticity of the place, don’t you think? Come, your room is this way.” They strolled through the reception area and down a long hallway. The color scheme changed dramatically as they moved through the rooms and now the wallpaper was an ornamental green, rimmed with a light wood trim. The closed doors they passed were a deep cherry wood and the floor was a patterned carpet in a motley of subdued colors. Artwork adorned the walls, though the motifs moved through paintings of island life to lotus blossoms. Occasionally, Kelsey glimpsed a strange symbol, or some other visual that reminded her of something tribal from the Pacific region.
Carla brought them up a second staircase. “Like my grandmother said earlier, we have two wings open this weekend. She thought you would like the east wing on the third floor, though all the other guests are staying on the second floor of the west wing. You’ll have total privacy, as you requested, Mr. Gisborne. She said you wanted Ms. Porter to wake up to the sun.”
Kelsey turned to Desmond and his face reddened. He knew how much she loved the sunrise. He really thought of everything. She squeezed his hand and again marveled at how lucky she was to have him back in her life. She’d thought she had lost had him forever. “Carla, it sounds perfect,” she said. “Please tell me more about this amazing place. Has it been in your family for a long time?” They passed an open bedroom suite and Kelsey was able to get a glimpse inside as Carla whisked them past. The entire décor was painted black from the bedspread to the wallpaper. So weird.
They passed by a small lounging guest area with a case overflowing with books and knickknacks. A comfortable plush recliner invitingly asked guests to sit down. They moved down a second long hallway. “My family has owned this place for over a hundred and sixty years to be exact. My great-great great-great grandfather Ezerel built it.” She grinned. “That’s a lot of greats, right? I never get tired of saying that, though. Family history is so important to us. He and my great-great great-great grandmother were missionaries from England back in the early eighteen hundreds and were sent to work in the Southwest Pacific Ocean.” She leaned in and whispered. “Well, the story changes depending on whom you talk to. Some say they were sent, others say left, or kicked out. None of us really knows the real reason anymore. My grandfather was supposedly a very bad missionary and apparently neither he nor my grandmother stayed aligned with the doctrine of the church.” She continued walking. “They moved to Oceania and lived there for years, trying to convert the locals, who believed in sorcery and other more bizarre religious practices. They were supposed to be preaching Protestantism, but my grandparents got swayed by the local religion of the people they were supposed to be converting. Obviously that was at odds with the church they had been attending back home. Suffice it to say, that didn’t go over well. Now, a lot of the details have been lost to history and much of it is just hearsay, but apparently some sort of great scandal occurred. In one generation the entire family relocated to America. My Grandpa Ezerel bought this hotel and it’s been in the family ever since.”
“What kind of scandal happened?” Kelsey asked.
Carla leaned in conspiratorially. “All I know is, it had to do with a girl.”
Desmond snickered. “It always has to do with a girl. If they tell you anything else, don’t believe them.”
Carla stopped in front of Room 313 and opened the door. “Here we are. See you in the morning.” She moved back down the hall.
Kelsey strolled into the guest room and froze.
#
Dooley stoked an already roaring fire in the stone hearth. A young man, clearly not a Cragg family relative with his dark black sk
in and black, close-cut curly hair, removed covers from silver platters of food. Kelsey stared at him and blinked a few times. How tired am I? The young man’s image doubled and swam before her eyes. He wore Western clothing, but had his white button down shirt and black slacks covered with a simple white apron secured with a belt seemingly woven of ivy vines. She tried to focus on him more clearly, but couldn’t. The effort made her dizzy, as if she were crossing her eyes on purpose. She instead turned and stared at the food, and her eyes adjusted properly. I’m just exhausted and hungry. She could see curls of steam rising from the plates and smelled the exquisite aromas coming from them. She swore she caught a whiff of truffles. Her stomach rumbled again. The young man bowed, and when Kelsey looked back at him, his image again was doubled. That put her on guard. Something was wrong with him… or her.
The man was about to leave the room when Desmond caught his arm. “Please, wait one moment.” He reached into his pocket.
Dooley quickly jumped over and gently stayed his hand, anticipating him. “There’s a no tipping policy at Cragg Hill House, Mr. Gisborne. We believe in taking care of our staff, Pago here included. Good wages, good benefits, excellent working conditions. The best you’ll find in the industry. You’ve already paid your bill in full. Everything from here on out is covered.”
Kelsey’s jaw hardened during this exchange. There was no good reason for Pago’s image to remain doubled the entire time and for the life of her she couldn’t figure out why it did. She wondered if there was some weird trick of lighting or reflections going on around him and glanced at the ceiling and walls for anything unusual. Is it me? She’d felt different since she’d returned from Aihika. Her senses were on fire all the time and she could feel things more deeply. But no one’s image had been doubled.
Pago pressed his palms together again and bowed. Kelsey noticed he was also missing part of his pointer finger on his left hand, from the second knuckle up. It appeared to be an old wound and fully healed. “Have a pleasant evening.” His speech was heavily accented, but she couldn’t place it.
The Haunting of Cragg Hill House Page 2