Welcome to my Nightmare (Some Kind of Monster Book 1) by Katie May & Steffanie Holmes

Author:Katie May & Steffanie Holmes [May, Katie & Holmes, Steffanie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Expresso Publishing, LLC
Published: 2024-01-26T00:00:00+00:00

I find the concierge in the lounge at the rear of the hotel. Luckily, no Bellua brothers are nearby. I wait until Freddie’s finished helping an elderly couple identify some nice walking paths on a fold-out map before approaching him.

“Hi, Freddie. I wondered if you could help me with something?”

“Certainly, Mrs. Dean.” Freddie gives a short bow. “That’s what I’m here for. What can I do for you? Is everything satisfactory with your room? Would you and Mr. Dean like to reserve a romantic table for two in our award-winning restaurant?”

I resist the urge to make a face at the idea of trying to have a romantic dinner with my fake husband. “I’m really keen to get started on my project. Did you ever end up finding information about the hotel? Maybe a scrapbook of newspaper clippings…?”

Freddie appears resigned. “Unfortunately not. I’m sorry. We have a few photographs on the wall in the billiards room, but honestly, the guests aren’t interested in the hotel’s history, so we don’t highlight it beyond a few mentions on the website. There are things in the past I think the owners would like to forget.”

You mean the murders, I think but don’t say.

“What about the staff?” I ask, thinking that I may get lucky, and someone could still be working. “Or the owners? I could talk to them?”

Freddie chuckles. “Good luck with that. The only two staff members who’ve been here since the sixties are Robert and maybe even Old Man Rodney, though no one knows for sure how old he is. I think you’d have to cut him open and count the rings. You won’t squeeze a word out of Robert about anything, and the problem with Rodney is—”

“Oh, yes, Old Man Rodney and I are well acquainted.” I shudder, remembering the old man’s hairy crotch gyrating in my face.

“Exactly. And the owners are unfortunately not on site at present. We aren’t able to contact them, which is a real shame, as we could use their assistance with everything going on,” Freddie continues. “We have boxes of stuff in the back office—old restaurant menus and photographs and brochures, but it’s all jumbled up. I can ask Robert if you’d be able to look through them, but he doesn’t even allow journalists or historians back there. It’s his private domain. We had a bunch sniffing around after some unfortunate incidents this year, but he won’t let them see anything. You’d think that guy had something to hide. I’m sorry, Mrs. Dean. I thought I would find more information for you.”

My heart sinks. Even if I could get in to look at that stuff, it’ll be weeks of work to pore through it, and I don’t even know what I’m looking for. Something that will have meaning to a dead ghost.

“That would be great, thanks. And actually…” I tap my chin as an evil thought occurs to me. “I will book that table for tonight. My husband’s credit card is still connected to our room, right?”

“Yes, ma’am.

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