Everett shrugged, and took a mouthful of Heaven Hill whiskey. ‘Don’t ask me, boo. Like I said, I don’t disrespect anybody who believes in the supernatural, and fortune-telling. I check my own horoscope every morning in the Advocate – not that it ever turns out to be the remotest bit accurate. But what’s been happening here – the bloody rug, the whistling, Ella-mae going missing – there has to be some rational explanation for it. Maybe it’s going to take some lateral thinking to find out who’s behind it. But, so far as I’m concerned, it’s a who. It’s a real person. Not a spirit, not a ghost. A real, genuine, living and breathing person. Vanessa Slider, come on, T-Yon. Be serious.’
Sissy drained her glass of wine, and stood up. ‘We’ll have to see, won’t we, Everett? To be honest with you, I very much hope that you’re right. At this particular moment, though, I think I badly need to get some sleep. Do you think you can show me where my room is?’
‘I’ll join you,’ said T-Yon. ‘I’m exhausted.’
Everett went to his office to check which rooms they had been allocated, and then took them up in the elevator to the second floor. One of the hotel’s security team was sitting opposite the elevator doors, reading Sports Illustrated, a huge African-American in a red shirt and black pants. He stood up when they appeared, but Everett said, ‘It’s OK, Samuel. Just make sure that you keep your eye on these ladies for me, that’s all.’
‘Sure will, Mr Everett, sir.’
Everett showed them to rooms 209 and 211, which were adjacent to each other at the end of the second-floor corridor.
Before they went inside, T-Yon hugged Everett tight and said, ‘You’re really not mad at me, are you, Ev, for bringing Sissy?’
‘Of course not. It’s great to see you. And, like I say, I can’t see Sissy causing us any problems, so long as she doesn’t tell anybody that this is more than a social visit.’
‘My lips are sealed,’ Sissy promised him.
Sissy found that her case had already been brought up to the room for her. She unpacked, and then she undressed and put on her long cotton nightdress with the tiny pink rosebuds on it. The room wasn’t large, but it was lavishly furnished, with heavy velvet drapes and a marble-topped dressing table and a bedspread with scarlet and gold embroidery.
She went into the bathroom to start running herself a bath and to let down her hair. Maybe it was tiredness, but when she looked at herself in the mirror over the washbasin she thought she was looking very old, with papery skin and eyes that were losing their blue. She could still remember how pretty she had been, but that seemed like a long, long time ago.
She thought about Frank, too. She could remember how his hand had felt, when he stood behind her and put it on her shoulder, and then kissed the nape of her neck. They had been married for thirty-seven years, but now that seemed like a distant memory, too, dwindling smaller and smaller with every passing day.
‘Frank,’ she said, just to hear his name.
T-Yon opened her eyes. Her room was almost completely dark, except for the glow of the standby light on the TV and the illuminated numbers on the bedside clock. It was 2.43 a.m.
She lay there for almost a minute, not moving. She was sure that she had heard a noise, or felt something bumping into the bed, and that was what had woken her up. She listened and listened, straining her ears, but all she could hear was the echoing sound of traffic on Convention Street and the rumbling of a jet at BTR, seven miles away.
No, she thought, I must have been dreaming. At least I wasn’t having that nightmare about Everett. She turned over, plumped up her pillow and closed her eyes, but almost as soon as she had done so, she heard a rustle, and a whisper.
She froze. She was sure that she could hear somebody breathing – quick, suppressed breaths, like an anxious child. Maybe it’s my own breathing, she thought. Maybe that rustle was nothing more than the amplified noise of the sheet against my ear.
She held her breath and listened even more intently. Only the sounds of the city outside. No rustling, no breathing. I’m doing it again. I’m letting my imagination run away with me. Maybe I’m asleep right now, and I’m dreaming this.
But then she heard a soft bump, like somebody accidentally walking into a chair. She leaned over sideways and reached for the old-fashioned lamp on the nightstand, but at first she couldn’t find it. She swung her arm from left to right, knocking the bedside clock on to the floor, and then tipping the lamp over. It fell against the wall and she heard the bulb shatter.
She sat up, pulling the bedcover right up to her neck. She was wearing only a T-shirt and she felt terrifyingly vulnerable.
‘Who’s there?’ she demanded, trying to sound angry rather than afraid, but her voice came out breathy and broken.
Nobody answered. She strained her eyes, but now that the bedside clock had dropped on to the floor, the room was almost totally dark.
She began to shuffle herself over to the opposite side of the bed, where there was a second lamp, but before she could reach it she heard another rustling sound, and she stopped, and stared into the darkness even harder. She gradually made out two shapes that were even darker than the darkness itself, like two ghosts draped in black sheets rather than white. One was quite tall, but the other was small, like a child.
‘Who’s there?’ she repeated, even though her throat was so constricted that she may not have been audible to the two dark figures standing in the middle of the room, if they were real, and not just a nightmare. ‘Who are you? What do you want?’
The figures said nothing, but continued to stand there, and all T-Yon could hear was the sound of their breathing.
Sleep Talking
Sissy was dreaming that she was walking along the shore of Lake Candlewood with Frank. It was early fall, and the trees were turning, and their rusts and crimsons were perfectly reflected in the water. There was no wind, and the horse’s tail clouds were unnaturally motionless.
For some reason, Frank stayed close behind her, so that she couldn’t see him properly, although she could hear his footsteps crunching on the shingle path and she could hear him talking.
He said, ‘We ought to bring out the sailboat, at least one more time before winter.’
Sissy stopped, and tried to look back at him over her shoulder, but he stayed tantalizingly out of sight. ‘I sold the sailboat, Frank. Don’t you remember? I sold it about six months after you died.’
That was what she had always found so strange about dead people, when they appeared in dreams. They never realized that they were dead.
She was about to carry on walking when she heard a frantic banging sound, and a girl’s voice screaming out, ‘Sissy! Sissy! Open the door! Sissy!’
She woke up. The banging was real, and it was frantic.
‘Sissy! Open the door! Sissy!’
Still half dreaming, Sissy climbed out of bed and groped her way across the room, her arms waving in front of her like a sleepwalker. She found the light switch and turned on the overhead lights. Then she drew back the security bolt and opened up the door. T-Yon came bursting in and immediately slammed the door behind her.
‘Why, T-Yon! What on earth is the matter?’
T-Yon’s hair was all messed up and her eyes were wide with panic. ‘I saw them! They were in my room! I heard a noise and it woke me up and they were just standing there, at the end of my bed!’
‘Here, hush, calm yourself down,’ said Sissy. She took hold of T-Yon’s arm and led her across to the bed.
T-Yon sat down and said, ‘I’ve never been so scared in my life. Like, never.’
Sissy sat down next to her. ‘My, you’re shaking! Who were they? Don’t you worry, I’ll call that Samuel fellow.’ She stood up again and went back toward the door.
‘No!’ said T-Yon. ‘Don’t open the door! They might still be out there!’
‘But who, sweetheart? Who were they? This whole floor is supposed to be secure.’
‘I know! I don’t know how they could have gotten into my r
oom! I had the chain on the door and everything!’
Sissy sat down again and put her arm around T-Yon’s shoulders. ‘Come on, hush, whoever they were and however they got into your room, they didn’t hurt you, did they?’
T-Yon shook her head. She was quaking uncontrollably, as if she had been out without a coat on a bitter winter’s night.
‘Did they say anything to you?’ asked Sissy. ‘They didn’t threaten you or anything? They didn’t ask for your money, did they, or your jewelry?’
‘They didn’t speak,’ said T-Yon. She tilted her head sideways so that she could wipe her eyes on the shoulder of her T-shirt. ‘But I know I wasn’t having a nightmare. At least I don’t think that I was. I could hear them breathing, and one of them bumped into the chair.’
She turned to Sissy and said, ‘I couldn’t see who they were. Both of them were wearing these black sheets over their heads. One of them was quite tall, about my height, but the other was only about so high, like a child.’
‘I think I should call that Samuel,’ said Sissy. ‘Whoever they were, they shouldn’t have come into your room, even if they were only playing some kind of a sick joke.’
‘Oh, God,’ said T-Yon. ‘You don’t think it was Ev, do you, trying to scare me?’
‘Your brother? Well, you know him a whole lot better than I do. Would he really do anything like that? He came across as much too serious-minded.’
‘No, you’re right, he wouldn’t. Like, he was always teasing me, when we were growing up, but I can’t see him doing anything as mean as that. Besides, he’s far too busy, isn’t he? And he’s desperately worried about tomorrow.’ She held up both hands. ‘My God, look at me. I’m still shaking like a leaf.’
Sissy didn’t have to call for the security guard. There was a knock at the door, and a deep voice said, ‘Security, ma’am. Is everything OK?’
Sissy opened the door and Samuel was standing outside, holding a long black nightstick.
‘Sorry if I’m bothering you, ma’am. I thought I heard some kind of disturbance, and the door to Two-Oh-Nine is open and there ain’t nobody in there.’
‘Ms Savoie here thought she saw some people in her room,’ said Sissy. ‘Apparently they were both wearing black sheets, an adult and a child.’
‘They was wearing what?’ asked Samuel, peering over Sissy’s shoulder at T-Yon.
‘Well – maybe they weren’t sheets,’ said T-Yon. ‘They might have been cloaks, with hoods. I don’t know. I couldn’t see too well. It was dark, and I was scared out of my mind.’
‘So, an adult, and a smaller individual, all dressed up in black? Did they speak to you?’
‘No. Not a word.’
Samuel smacked his nightstick into the palm of his hand and looked back up the corridor with an exaggerated frown, his lips pursed, as if he were trying to think what to say to the boss’s sister without suggesting that she had simply been dreaming.
In the end, he said, ‘I have to tell you that I didn’t see nobody coming along this corridor tonight, ma’am, big or small.’
‘You’re sure?’
‘Positively positive, ma’am. ’Cause even if they didn’t use the elevator, they would have had to pass by me to get to the stairs. And there’s no way that nobody can climb out of none of these windows, not even a kid.’
‘Could be they’re still here, in another room,’ Sissy suggested. ‘If they could get into Ms Savoie’s room, maybe they have a master key.’
‘But I had the chain fastened,’ said T-Yon. ‘It was still fastened when I was trying to get out of there, and I had to slide it open myself.’
‘You’re sure you fastened it yourself, before you retired?’ asked Samuel.
‘I fastened it as soon as I got into the room. I always do.’
‘Hm. Well. I’ll tell you what I’ll do. I’ll go take a look in each unoccupied room, just to make sure there ain’t nobody hiding in none of them.’
‘You don’t believe I saw anybody at all, do you?’ said T-Yon.
‘I haven’t come to no conclusions at all, ma’am. My job description is security, not coming to conclusions. I’ll go check, and then come back and give you the all-clear. OK?’
‘I guess so,’ said T-Yon. ‘Thanks.’
‘Don’t mention it,’ said Samuel, and went off jangling his keys.
They stayed up and talked until Samuel came back. He knocked at the door, and when Sissy opened it, he said, ‘Nobody hiding in none of the rooms, ma’am. If those two individuals was here, I don’t think they’re still here now. But what I’ll do is, I’ll move my chair up closer so that I can keep an eye on your door.’
‘All right,’ said Sissy. ‘Does that make you feel happier, T-Yon?’
T-Yon looked up at her, her eyelashes spiky with tears. ‘Would you mind if I stayed here with you for the rest of the night? I’m really scared to go back to that room.’
‘For sure, if that’s what you want. And if you don’t mind my snoring. Frank always said that I snored like a buffalo.’
Sissy turned to Samuel, and shrugged, and Samuel shrugged, too. ‘Seems like that’s settled, then,’ he told her. ‘Hope you sleep good.’
They climbed into bed and Sissy switched off the light. She lay there for a while, with her eyes open, wondering who it was that T-Yon had seen in her room. Unlike Samuel, she believed that T-Yon’s black-sheeted visitors had been real, in the sense that T-Yon hadn’t been dreaming, or hysterical. If the security chain had still been fastened, then it was likely that they had been spirits, or presences. Sissy had encountered enough of those in her life to know that the human soul can go on making itself felt long after the physical body has been buried, or cremated.
However, it was more logical to assume that they had been living people, and that somehow they had found a way to enter a locked hotel room. Sissy had known several stage magicians, and she had seen them apparently walk through walls and even plate-glass windows. The question was, why should anyone want to visit T-Yon in the middle of the night, whether they were living people or not?
After ten minutes or so, she heard T-Yon breathing slow and deep.
‘T-Yon?’ she said, very softly, but there was no answer. T-Yon was asleep. Sissy turned over and closed her eyes. She hoped she didn’t dream any more tonight, even if she dreamed about Frank, and Candlewood Lake. She knew that Frank’s spirit was at peace, wherever he was, but sometimes she wished that he would let her go. He was never going to come back, not in the flesh, and she found it quite wearing these days, carrying around all of those memories of him, as happy as most of them were.
She fell asleep herself. Outside, Convention Street was almost completely silent, in that hour-long hiatus before sunrise and traffic started up again.
‘Where have you been, Momma?’ said T-Yon, quite loudly.
Sissy opened her eyes. It was beginning to grow light. It took her a few seconds to remember that T-Yon was sharing her bed, but when she did she turned her head and looked at her, to check if she was awake. T-Yon still had her back to her, so all that Sissy could see was her shoulder, in her pale gray T-shirt, and the back of her neck, and her tangled blonde hair.
She waited for a while. If T-Yon was simply talking in her sleep, she didn’t want to wake her up. She was just about to turn over again when T-Yon said, ‘Why do you always leave us alone at night, Momma? It’s so scary.’
Another pause, and then T-Yon started speaking again, but this time in a different voice, huskier, with a much more pronounced Cajun accent.
‘I have to, beb, you know that. We have to keep body and soul together somehow. Money doesn’t grow in the garden.’
‘But what do you do all night, Momma?’ said T-Yon, reverting to her own voice. ‘I don’t understand.’
‘I do cleaning, beb,’ she replied, in that huskier tone. ‘I clean buildings where people work, so that when they arrive first thing in the morning, their offices are all dusted and their washrooms are all sparkly.’
‘I don’t believe you, Momma. I think you do something dirty, not clean. All my friends think that you’re a salope.’
‘That’s a terrible thing to say to me. Come on, now, that’s enough. Give me un p’tit bec. It’s time for you to fais do-do.’
‘Why won’t you tell me what you really do, Momma? Are you ashamed?’
‘Watch a slap, T-Yon!’
With that, T-Yon suddenly jerked her head sideways, as if she had been smacked across the face, very hard. Then she sat up, one hand pressed against her cheek, blinking in bewilderment.
‘T-Yon?’ said Sissy. ‘T-Yon, are you all right?’
T-Yon turned and stared at her. ‘I thought . . . I thought I was talking to my Momma. I thought she slapped me. I really thought it was real.’
She took her hand away from her cheek. ‘It was real. I can feel it. It hurts. How can that be?’
Sissy reached over to the nightstand and found her spectacles. When she put them on, she clearly saw that there were red fingermarks on T-Yon’s left cheek, even though that was the cheek which had been pressed against her pillow.
‘You were talking in your sleep,’ she said. ‘It sounded like you were talking to your mother and then your mother was talking back to you. It was like ventriloquism. I mean, you actually put on a different voice.’
T-Yon said, ‘I was calling my mother a whore. I never said anything like that to her, ever. Why was I doing that? I never thought she was a whore. My God, no wonder she slapped me.’
‘She didn’t slap you,’ said Sissy. ‘Nobody slapped you. Nobody real, anyhow.’
‘But I felt it. I can still feel it.’
Sissy pushed back the covers and climbed out of bed. She went across to the window and drew back the red-velvet drapes, and the bedroom was immediately filled with sunlight. She looked down into the street below, and saw that the police crime-scene tapes were still in place, and that five white squad cars were still parked by the curb. She didn’t say anything to T-Yon, but she was sure now that what was happening at The Red Hotel could never be solved by Detective Garrity and his team, no matter how good they were.
The Red Hotel (Sissy Sawyer Mysteries) Page 10
