Page 66 of Dead Serious Case 4 Professor Prometheus Plume

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“I’m beginningto wonder if they’re the only staff working here,” Danny leans over and whispers.

I look over to Rosie from the office dressed in a pretty dress with a long string of pearls hanging from her neck. She and Ellis are setting plates in front of the other guests. Ellis, like most of the rest of us, is dressed in a dinner jacket and bow tie, and he looks adorable.

“It’s just as well Chan isn’t here,” I mutter. “He would have adopted Ellis by now.”

I hear Dusty snort next to me but I don’t look at her; I’m not sure what she’s doing, but she seems to be watching us like a hawk. Although to be honest, after a year with her, I’ve given up trying to figure Dusty out and now realise it’s easier just to go with it.

“I have to give it to them.” Danny hums happily as he cuts into his roast pork and smears it with apple sauce. “They may be short-staffed and a little bit eccentric, but I can’t fault the food or the hospitality.”

“True.” I pick up my fork and tap my glass to get everyone’s attention. For tonight’s meal, they’ve pushed several tables together to create one long banquet table that accommodates all the guests and actors rather than have us scattered throughout the large dining room. Of course, there not being many guests, the large table sports big spaces between each of us. “Ahem.” I clear my throat and lift my glass. “I would like to propose a toast to Rosie and Ellis, for not only organising this event but for also taking such good care of us. To Rosie and Ellis!”

Everyone around the table lifts their glasses and mumbles out a response, some more enthusiastically than others.

Rosie blushes pink and Ellis simply beams brightly. “Oh, you guys!” He waves his hand. “I have to say you are the best group of guests we’ve had staying at The Ashton-Drake in ages!”

Looking around, I sincerely hope that’s not the case because that means the hotel is probably doing worse than I think. Mr and Mrs Nakatomi smile at me when they catch my eye and lift their glasses. I can’t help but notice with amusement that they’re seated next to Martha and Essie and that the friendly Japanese couple are wearing badges pinned to their expensive-looking evening wear that read:I support T.I.T.

Everyone is busy eating and talking in low tones as Rosie and Ellis continue to bustle around without complaint. I set about demolishing my own dinner, which is every bit as good as Danny says, but as I quietly chew, certain spectral guests start appearing.

The first is Bertie. Seemingly able to change her appearance like Dusty does, Bertie has forgone her tweed in favour of a masculine dinner jacket and bow tie. She’s combed her wild grey hair and is sitting beside Ruby Fairfax, who of course clearly has no idea of her ghostly admirer.

The next to pop in is Roger, still in the same clothes, who simply shows up perched on the table between me and Danny. His only concession to formality is to leave his tennis racket behind.

“She’s married to him, you know.” He lights a cigarette and blows out a thin, elegant stream of smoke before gazing down at me.

“Who?” I whisper.

“Ruby.” He leans in closer and glances over the table to the object of Bertie’s affection. “She’s married to the baldy Professor Plume in real life. Booked into the hotel together, but she sneaks off every chance she gets to get horizontal with Greyson.” He wiggles his eyebrows.

I lift my brows but before I can say anything I hear a blaring, “VOTES FOR WOMEN! VOTES FOR WOMEN!” ring out.

Chanting loudly, Edwina Ashton-Drake makes her way down the length of the table, banging at the top of it with her fist at odd intervals but with a force that sends the silverware and glasses jingling.

“Oh, bloody hell.” Bertie rolls her eyes. “Knock it off, Eddy! They’re trying to have a civilised meal without all your nonsense.”

“Don’t call me Eddy!” she tells Bertie primly as she pauses halfway down the table. “My name is Edwina and I will not rest until all my sisters and I have equal rights!”

“Sing it, sister!” Dusty yells in encouragement. “What?” Dusty asks innocently when I send her a withering look. “You know me, I like to stick it to The Man.” She winks at me, and this time it’s Roger who snorts.

I resist the urge to roll my eyes. It’s like I’m surrounded by a bunch of unruly teenagers sometimes.

“VOTES FOR WOMEN! VOTES FOR WOMEN!” Edwina starts up her chant again and this time doubles her effort. The merry little chinking together of the glasses shifts to a loud clatter while any silverware still on the table jumps an inch off the tablecloth every time her fist bangs down.

“Is there an earthquake?” Essie says in confusion as the other guests stare perplexed at the vibrating table. “Do they get earthquakes in Yorkshire?”

“Oh, that’s just the ghosts.” Ellis laughs it off like it’s all a big joke and I genuinely can’t tell if he believes the hotel is haunted by real ghosts or whether he just uses it as a catchall explanation for anything weird that happens here.

It kinda makes me a bit mad. Ellis and the others are working their asses off in this place, and the ghosts are running roughshod over them and their efforts.

“Edwina!” I hiss as she reaches me, injecting as much authority as I can into my voice while keeping it low.

She stops dead, obviously not used to the living directly interacting with her, although I think it may be more than that. I don’t think she’s used to anyone setting boundaries.

“Is this acceptable behaviour for a lady?” I ask, and Dusty snorts beside me. Edwina blinks slowly, looking slightly abashed. “Now sit down and let the others eat their meal. Mind your manners,” I say, then remembering with a slight, bittersweet pang that it was something my mum used to say to me when I was little.

Edwina, still looking a little shell-shocked, sinks into the nearest chair and folds her hands demurely in her lap.