Page 43 of Dead Serious Case 4 Professor Prometheus Plume
Ellis nods. “Yep.”
“But surely not the only one?” Tris says. “I mean, there must be someone else to help her. She looks old enough to have actually been around when Prohibition was a thing.”
“Did they have Prohibition over here?” Ellis frowns. “I thought it was an American thing.”
“It was.” I take another decadent sip of chocolatey heaven.
“Anyway,” Ellis continues, “yes, Dilys is the only bartender, and she’s really quite territorial. We did try to get someone in to help her, but they didn’t last long.”
“But shouldn’t she be retired?” I ask. “How old is she exactly?”
“Nobody knows and it’d be rude to ask,” Ellis replies simply, as if it wasn’t a big deal to have someone who is potentially a centenarian behind the bar. “Moving on, I’ve come to let you know your room is now prepared. It’s on the fifth floor. There is a lift but it’s broken, hasn’t worked for months, which is really odd. We’ve had loads of people out to fix it and they’ve replaced everything from the cables to the motors, but it just won’t budge. You can go up whenever you’re ready. You’ll find your bags have been taken up—oh, and the restaurant opens at seven.”
“Could you book us a table for half past eight?” I once again feel the nerves flutter in my belly.
“Oh, no need, just come on down when you like. Aggie is making a beef roast tonight and oh, sweet baby Jesus, the gravy. The gravy could be eaten all on its own with a spoon.”
“Um, okay.” I reply somewhat bemused by the sunny little receptionist.
Ellis gives us a little wave and practically skips out of the room.
“He’s very chirpy,” Tris remarks. He drains the rest of his drink before continuing. “You know what’s weird?”
“His peppy personality or the ancient bartender?”
“Neither,” he huffs. “It’s how quiet this place is and yet not quiet. Does that make sense?”
“Not even slightly.” I finish off my own drink. “But then again, I’m getting used to weird.”
Tris laughs and slides off his seat. “I mean, it’s quiet because there’s no one around, but I don’t know, the atmosphere feels full somehow.”
“I know what you mean. Kind of like a tingling on your skin.” I slip off the stool and take his hand as we head towards the doors.
“Exactly.”
“But no ghosts?” I ask. Tristan looks around.
“No, no one I can see.” He frowns. “Maybe it’s a weird atmospheric thing because of the storm. Apparently, some people are able to sense storms.”
I smile. “Not indoors though.”
“Maybe we’ve been around ghosts and weird stuff for so long that we don’t recognise normal, so we’re both imagining it now.”
“Or maybe we both just need some sleep.” I chuckle as we cross the lobby and head for the staircase.
We start to climb the stairs, but as we pass by the suit of armour Ellis called Brad, I hear a slow creak, and when I glance over my shoulder, the helmet is looking directly at us. Funny, I could’ve sworn it had been facing the other way.
Damn, Ireallymust need some sleep.
Eventually, we reach the fifth floor and locate our room. I fish the key out of my pocket and open the door, then step back to let Tristan in first.
“Wow,” he exclaims as he walks slowly inside.
I follow him in and let the door swing closed behind me. The room is huge, filled with polished antique furniture. There’s an armoire and a chaise lounge in one corner, and huge landscapes and tapestries hang on the walls . However, the space is dominated by a huge four-poster bed made of heavy wood decorated with intricate carvings. On the table beneath a large window is a bouquet of fresh red and white roses, which fills the room with a sweet scent.
As it’s already dark outside, the wall sconces are switched on and bathe the room in a soft, romantic glow. Tristan crosses the room to the bed and I continue to follow him, noting our luggage neatly stacked by the wardrobe and dresser.
“Um.” Tristan giggles. “I think they’ve given us the honeymoon suite.”