Page 10 of The Haunted Hotel
“I do know what horseradish is.” I barely resist the urge to scowl.
He grins. “Well, Aggie’s is the best.”
“So you said.”
“Anyway, I’ll let you unpack. If you need anything else, let us know.” He pauses at the door and turns back to me. “Oh, and don’t worry if the furniture moves.”
“Why would you be moving the furniture?” I ask, but he’s already gone and the door is slowly swinging closed with an ominous creak.
“This place is crazy,” I mutter to myself.
3
“Did you see that?” I say rather gleefully as I look down at Roger, who is also peeking around the corner with me. “A fresh one to practice on.”
“I certainly did see him.” Roger hums in appreciation.“Hel-lo, Daddy.”
“Roger, will you stop thinking with your… tennis racquet?” I sigh. “This is serious.”
“So am I,” he says in delight. “I wouldn’t mind playing a few sets with him. He looks like he knows what to do with a pair of balls if you know what I mean.”
“Unfortunately, I do,” I grumble, watching as Ellis disappears down the hall, leaving my great-great-nephew in one of the rooms with a fancy bath. “He grew up handsome,” I mutter. “I’ll give him that.”
“What was that, Bertie?” Roger asks as the hallway swirls and disappears. Moments later, the library solidifies around us. I’ve got to say it’s a jolly handy way to travel, unlike when we were alive and had to walk everywhere. Dashed inconvenient.
“I said he’s nice-looking for a chap. Unlike my other nephew, Clifford—the man looked like a bad tempered possum. A drunk one at that. Still, at least Morgan is descended from Cedric, whowas much more agreeable. Morgan’s mother was a looker, too, if I recall. Pretty young American thing, smashing backside.”
“They came along after you died, didn’t they?” Roger hops up onto the desk and lights a cigarette.
“That’s right.” I scratch my chin. “Shame what happened to Morgan’s father.”
“I remember that,” Roger nods, uncharacteristically sombre. “Shame,” he agrees.
“I wonder why he’s back,” I muse. “Haven’t seen the boy since he was small. After what happened to Elliott, Morgan’s mother, Lilian, whipped him back to America faster than you can say immigration.”
“Do you think he’s come to save the hotel?” Roger brightens. “He looks like he’s got money.”
“What makes you say that?”
“Darling.” Roger breathes out an elegant stream of smoke. “I can sniff out a sugar daddy at twenty paces. Trust me, Morgan comes from money and it’s certainly not from this side of the family.” He purses his lips, his thin moustache wrinkling. “What do you remember of his mother?”
“She was from America, working-class family.” I cast my mind back. “She wasn’t a bad sort but make no mistake, she was looking to marry up. I believe she did love Morgan’s father, but I suspect there was some calculation there, at least in the very beginning.”
“Hmm.” Roger taps his fingers along his thigh. “Maybe Ellis can convince him to invest some money in the place. After all, as the only remaining heir, he is going to inherit when Cedric’s time comes.”
“Ellis?”
“Oh, for goodness’ sake, Bertie. I swear, if it doesn’t have a bum like a beach ball and a cleavage you can ski down, you don’t pay attention, do you?”
“I resent that implication.” I sniff. “I’ve met plenty of lovely fillies who’ve been a bit more on the skinny side.”
“Name one.”
“This isn’t about me,” I remind him. “Now what do you mean about Ellis?”
“I’m not sure yet,” Roger muses. “But honestly, Morgan looked at him like he was the last square of chocolate and he’d run out of ration tokens.”
“What?”