Terror at Thornbridge Hotel by London Lovett

Author:London Lovett [Lovett, London]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Wild Fox Press

Chapter 18

Maribel had trouble opening the door because her arms were full. "Here, let me get that," I said. It startled her at first, then she smiled and stepped back.

"Thanks."

I opened the door. She walked inside but didn't look too happy about me following. "I think Mr. Hamner is in the front of the house."

"Yes, I'm sorry. It's just that I can't seem to find my phone. I've been looking for it everywhere. I don't know if I had it with me when I left yesterday. I wanted to check the kitchen."

"You should talk to the housekeepers. They always find lost items when they're cleaning."

"I know but I spent most of my time in the kitchen."

Maribel smiled weakly as she set down the groceries. "I suppose I have you to thank for opening that freezer door. I really thought I was a goner."

"I'm just glad I heard you." I glanced at the freezer. "That door is well insulated. It was only the slightest noise."

"I was banging on it with a frozen pork roast. It was loud enough inside, I assure you. My ears are still ringing."

"How did you get locked in?" I couldn't believe I hadn't already asked that question. What if someone was locking people in on purpose? What if one of the hotel staff had a big grudge or was just plain nuts?

"I stepped inside to grab some frozen corn. The door closes slowly on its own, so I was sure I had time to grab the corn and duck back out. Guess I misjudged my timing. Unless the Thornbridge—" Maribel stopped midsentence. She began unpacking the groceries. I was no expert, but it looked as if she was going to make marinara for a pasta dish. She pulled out tomatoes, garlic and some fresh herbs. I couldn't tell if she stopped talking because the task had pulled her away from her thoughts or if she'd decided not to finish the sentence. But I was curious.

"The Thornbridge?" I asked. "You were about to say something."

She stared down at the bushel of oregano she'd placed on the counter. "I know Carlton doesn't like to mention it, but this place—it's—well—let's just say a lot of strange things happen. Things that can never be explained. Sometimes I'll be chopping an onion or something. I put the knife down for a second, and when I go to reach for it, it's been moved to the other side of the cutting board."

"That's not me. She's somewhat forgetful," Thomas said. Fortunately, I was an experienced ghost reactor, so it didn't startle me when he appeared sitting on the kitchen work table. "The staff 'ere use me as an excuse for all of their own carelessness."

I flashed him a quick smile and returned my focus to Maribel. "I live in an old house too. Sometimes things like that happen. I usually pass it off as my own forgetfulness. Does everyone in the house thinks it's haunted?" I asked.

Maribel shrugged noncommittally. It seemed she didn't want to come out as a full believer.

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