Why oh why didn’t I just say this in the first place at the Art Gallery Café, thought Rory to himself. “It’s just knowing quite where to start,” he said.
“Well I always find the beginning a useful enough place to get going from,” said Finkleman. Rory instinctively checked the distance to get back to the path in case Finkleman’s reaction meant that he needed to make a sharp getaway. There was a long pause. Rory could no longer think of anything to say to stall the inevitable.
“Come on Rory. I’m all ears,” said Finkleman. “Whatever it is, just spit it out.”
“It’s about the Zizz slogan,” blurted out Rory.
“Ah … your miracle moment of genius,” said Finkleman grandly.
“Well, you see, that’s just it,” said Rory squirming inside and now feeling very hot under the collar. “That was one miracle that is actually very easy to explain.”
“You’re speaking in code here, Rory. Just let me know what you want to say. The truth can’t hurt,” said Finkleman with a grin and spreading his arms.
“The truth is … the Zizz slogan wasn’t mine.”
There was silence from Finkleman this time, raising Rory’s anxiety levels still further. Rory was finding it hard to look at the big American but sneaked a peak. His eyes had narrowed and his mouth seemed to have tightened. Rory could almost imagine his brain in overdrive, processing just what he was hearing. “This is what we would call in the trade ‘an interesting development,’ Rory,” drawled Finkleman. “I seem to remember, when I asked how you would describe Zizz all those months ago, that’s what you came out with.”
“I know, but I had just heard someone else say it.” Rory explained the real situation. It sounded cheap and nasty. Finkleman raised his eyebrows and then to Rory’s surprise seemed to carry on as normal.
“Yeah, but when I asked how you would describe Zizz, that’s what you said and that for me was the right answer.”
“Yeah, but I used someone else’s idea,” said Rory, aware that he had gone bright red on the outside and had a hollow feeling inside.
“Well, Rory, they sure haven’t been in touch with me to make a claim about it. The way I see it is … you gave me the right answer when I asked you a question, and that answer has brought our company phenomenal success. Okay your creative qualities perhaps aren’t as strong as I thought, and maybe that award was pushing it a bit, but hey, you gave us the idea we needed, and look where Zizz Cola is now. Sometimes in this job it’s just about timing.”
“So you don’t mind?” said Rory finally bringing himself to look Finkleman fully in the eye.
“Mind? Mind that I manage the number one soft drinks company in the world? I’m not really sure what your problem is, Rory,” said Finkleman. “Listen, where do you think any idea comes from in the first place? Some combination of things people have seen before … some connection they make between things. Everyone gets their ideas from something or someone if you trace them back. Okay you could have told me about this before. We could even have tried to find whoever had said this line originally. But this isn’t an unusual situation. There is nothing new under the sun. The clever thing is to put ideas together with the situation that needs them. Now that’s what you did. Don’t you worry, buddy. You get to keep the plaque and all those free cans of Zizz.”
“I wasn’t really bothered about those,” said Rory mumbling and finding it hard to believe that what had been preying on his mind for so long had just been dismissed out of hand.
“Well Mr Marketing Genius … I’m not going to strip you of your title, especially given the idea that you have come up with here. Now if you pitch this proposal up at the hotel just now and turn this place around,” Finkleman gestured around the ledge, “that will really be marketing genius. You would have sorted out a decades-old image problem in one fell swoop, increased a company’s profits, not to mention the community benefits of the project. Buddy, you would be in line for some kind of award!”
Finkleman saw the pained expression on Rory’s face at the thought of it, and his roar of laughter echoed over the ledge and beyond.
“That is some piece of work,” said Finkleman. He stood beside Rory looking down on the fallen statue of the wolf.
“So you really think that all the bad stuff has just been coincidence then?” said Finkleman. “This so-called curse was just hot air?”
“Well, as time has gone on it just seems that everything has an explanation,” said Rory thinking it all through. The hotel no longer scared him. Granville Grimm was now someone he felt sorry for rather than afraid of. The mural was not painting itself. He had found out about good people like Grimson and Gwendolen Grimm. Stobo was not the ogre that most believed, and it seemed that Grog was a surprise package. Far from being a death trap, the cable car brought a whole new view to Scrab Hill. Rory was even trying to see rats in a new light courtesy of Ramsay Sandilands. Meanwhile, much of how the town viewed the hotel seemed to have been influenced by Derek Goodman, and he had his own personal reasons for that. Bella Valentine’s story had played a part too, and as Rory remembered her, he realized that there was one unanswered question about the hotel.
“There is one thing that’s not been explained yet,” said Rory as they approached the enormous front door. “I might just check it out while we’re here.”
“Hi,” said Rory as the door was opened. The welcome and response was remarkably different from his first visit.
“Good afternoon,” croaked Grog holding the door open. “Mr McKenna for Mr Grimm?”
“That’s right but I’m very early, so I was going to pop up and see Grimson first,” said Rory. “I think I can find my own way, if that’s okay?”
“As you wish,” said Grog. “And you must be Ms Finkleman’s nephew.”
“I am indeed and I have strict instructions to shake you very firmly by the hand, Mr McGroggan. It is a pleasure and an honour to meet you.”
Grog looked flattered. “Well, any relative of Ms Finkleman is very welcome at the hotel. I remember her visit with great affection, even though it ended under difficult circumstances.” Grog stifled a cough. “Please do come in.”
Rory watched Finkleman trying to adjust his eyes to the gloom. The burly American looked across at Rory as if to say “I see what you mean.”
“Our chef has prepared some afternoon tea if you would care to come through here,” said Grog.
“Sure glad you briefed me about this, Rory,” whispered Finkleman as he followed Grog.
Rory took his leave and headed upstairs intent on ruling out the last big question mark over Hotel Grimm. Just why was Corridor Five off limits?
If you want to stay alive
Stay well clear of Corridor Five
It’s there you’ll find a beast resides
All set to dine on your insides
Winning entry for the Bella Valentine
Hallowe’en Poetry Competition
25. Corridor Five
Having survived two trips to Hotel Grimm already, Rory no longer believed that sudden death awaited him there; not even in Corridor Five. If he could disprove Bella Valentine’s story that there was some kind of beast there, then people’s fears about the hotel might diminish and the idea of the Halfway House would stand more of a chance of at least being heard. Until that happened she would always say: “That place is evil and was nearly the death of me.”
As he headed upstairs, Rory felt more confident in the gloom of the hotel now, being a bit clearer on his sense of direction around the building. He also felt more confident as he still had Bonnie’s giant torch with him. It had been in his backpack since he had used it to identify Grimson, and now it helped to locate the corridor numbers. Within a couple of minutes he was standing at the sign for Corridor Five, the beam of the torch picking out the number high on the wall.
Rory’s confidence in his hunch that there was some explanation behind Corridor Five’s mystery began to shake a little at the sight of the sign. To avoid getting scare
d, he had been telling himself that the noise that had begun so suddenly when he was here with Grog would be about to start again. “Anytime now,” he said to himself, “it’s going to happen anytime now. Not a problem. Not a problem at all. Just a loud noise. All perfectly normal …”
In front of him was a short section of hallway, a right-hand corner and then Corridor Five would begin properly. It was as he moved towards the corner that his prediction proved to be correct.
BANG CLATTER BANG CLATTER BANG CLATTER
“Told you, told you, told you,” he said to himself. Rory was all too aware that even though he had prepared himself for this, his heart was already starting to thump much faster than normal. The thought that Bella Valentine might not have exaggerated and that a spitting, clanking, chomping beast intent on devouring him in one gulp might be round the corner, suddenly assaulted Rory’s nerves.
“There’s no such thing, there’s no such thing … there’s a simple explanation, there’s a simple explanation,” Rory told himself as firmly as he could, as he took another pace forward.
BANG CLATTER HISS BANG CLATTER HISS BANG CLATTER HISS
Rory shuddered. The power of positive thinking was struggling to compete with the increasing noise. He was very aware he didn’t want to provoke the beast any more and turned off the torch for fear that the light might make the creature even more ferocious.
BANG CLATTER HISS WHEEZE BANG CLATTER HISS WHEEZE BANG CLATTER
Rory was now standing at the corner. Going around it would take him fully into Corridor Five and face to face with the beast of Hotel Grimm.
BANG CLATTER HISS WHEEZE CRASH MOAN BANG CLATTER HISS WHEEZE CRASH MOAN BANG CLATTER
The noises were now pounding in his ears. Wincing and holding his breath he rounded the corner. The noise in the darkness was too much for him. Rory reached for the light switch on the wall and flicked it down but nothing happened. The click seemed to ignite something further in the beast and the volume increased.
BANG CLATTER HISS WHEEZE CRASH MOAN ROAR BANG CLATTER HISS WHEEZE CRASH MOAN ROAR BANG CLATTER
Alarm bells began to sound in his head. Bella Valentine was right! He had badly misjudged Corridor Five. He was about to become front page news in The Chronicle for all the wrong reasons. Finkleman would tell how he found only bits of the Zizz Boy left.
And then he saw it. Out of the deep darkness at the end of the corridor lurched an immense mis-shapen figure. Rory could make out little detail but there was no doubt Bella Valentine’s story was coming to life in front of his eyes and was frighteningly accurate. “Hold your nerve! Hold your nerve!” he told himself as the creature advanced.
BANG CLATTER HISS WHEEZE CRASH MOAN ROAR BANG CLATTER HISS WHEEZE CRASH MOAN ROAR BANG CLATTER
The cacophony grew louder and louder and closer and closer. He could virtually feel the beat of the noise on his skin. The beast was now roaring wildly, swaying from side to side and moving slowly towards him. Rory’s hands shook uncontrollably and he dropped the torch. Falling to his knees he scrabbled desperately to find it. He flinched as a misty spray settled on his brow. It could only be fine spittle from a roaring mouth above him and Rory panicked that it might burn his skin like acid. The noise was now deafening as it seemed that the mystery creature was standing right above him. Rory smelt acrid smoke from the monster’s lungs and he screamed as his hand struck teeth, only to realize that he had brushed the head of a tiger-skin rug on the corridor floor. In one move he grabbed the rug with both hands and threw it upwards with all his strength. The roaring momentarily became more muffled. Rory scrabbled for the torch, his hand finally connecting with it. He dived to the side of the corridor, flicked the switch and shone the bright light straight at the beast.
The creature was tottering around fighting to get the tiger skin off its head and in doing so it walked straight into a doorpost. “Ouch!” it said in a muffled, metallic but remarkably human-sounding way. Flailing its arms, the tiger-skin rug fell away and Rory was confused to see some sort of apparatus for a head. He held his torch arm as stiff and steady as he could, pointing the light as if he were pumping bullets from a gun. Whatever it was had thrown an arm in front of its face. For all the sound, smell and spray it looked like a normal arm on a normal person, albeit with a few things attached.
If Rory was taken aback to hear the creature say “ouch” he was even more surprised when it said: “Listen you couldn’t switch that light off, could you? It’s really awfully bright.”
Stunned at the sound, Rory moved the beam to one side trying to work out how this roaring monster could have such a polite voice. The creature lowered its arm and Rory could now see that the apparatus he had seen was an old army gas mask topped by what looked like a shower head dripping the last of its spray. A set of tubes linked it to a water container carried on the creature’s back. Eyes flickered behind the goggles. Anything remotely scary had vanished as the light revealed a rather ridiculous home-made costume. As the creature took a couple of paces to the side, the wheezing breathing noise began again. Tubes connected from a set of bellows between its legs ran up forcing air through the mouthpiece of the gas mask, creating the heavy rasping breathing sound. Cymbals were strapped to its elbows and body, so that simple movements created a clashing sound. A wisp of pungent smoke could now be seen coming from a canister strapped to a man’s left arm.
“I thought you were some kind of fire-breathing monster,” said Rory, sitting back against the wall, an air of relief in his voice.
“That’s what you were supposed to think,” said the man’s muffled voice. “That’s what people always think if they get this far. They don’t usually have as good a torch as that, or if they do, then they don’t stand around long enough to use it.”
“Did you make all of that?” asked Rory looking at the bizarre outfit.
“All my own work,” said the voice as the figure worked at loosening the gas mask straps and lifting the headpiece off. Rory looked closely at the man behind the beast. He had a patchily whiskered chin and crazy white hair sticking up in clumps between where the straps of his gas mask had been. For some reason the man had a paperclip attached to his chin and as Rory studied him further, he noticed that the top of his left ear was missing.
With a start, Rory realized that he was facing a dead man.
“I know who you are,” said Rory.
“What’s that, dear boy?” The man’s eyes flitted around momentarily as if weighing up his options to escape or make up a story.
“Lachlan Stagg,” said Rory.
The man looked startled as if it was some time since he had heard his name being spoken.
“You are Lachlan Stagg,” continued Rory in an unbelieving voice. “Your ear is missing. You were missing. You’re supposed to be dead, but you’ve been here all along, haven’t you? HAVEN’T YOU?”
“Er … well, I suppose I have,” said the man scratching his head in a slightly embarrassed manner.“
What have you been doing here?” said Rory.
“Well, I … um … I … er … I live here,” replied Lachlan Stagg, looking away and struggling to meet Rory’s hard stare. “For the moment at least,” he added.
“What do you mean you live here?” said Rory. “How come? Why? People think you’re dead? What are you doing here?”
“Well I’ve been trying to get the elusive last four.”
“Last four what?” said Rory confused.
“Records, young man. World records,” said Stagg, shaking himself out of the straps that kept all of the apparatus on his arms and back.
“I don’t understand,” said Rory. “What has disappearing got to do with world records?”
“Well that is precisely it. When I was doing research around here for the gargoyles book I thought to myself ‘you could have some fun hiding in here.’ I checked the record for the person who had hidden for the longest time and until you came along I only had another 125 days to go to gain the record! You’ve rather trodden on my patch,
dear boy!” said Stagg. “All that effort gone to waste. I was rather looking forward to reappearing and claiming the title. It’s really a bit of a poor show after all this time. Jolly inconvenient of you to turn up and be so persistent.”
“I thought you said you needed four records, not just one,” said Rory trying to process the fact that the town’s local celebrity who was missing presumed dead, had been at the root of the belief that the hotel housed a monstrous beast.
“I do. So in the time I’ve been hiding I’ve concentrated on gaining the other ones that I needed. I’ve taught myself Spanish … or should I say ‘Me he enseñado a mí mismo el castellano’ to add to my qualifications. After much work up and down this corridor I can stay on a unicycle for six hours and thirty-one minutes and I have grown this …” With great care, Stagg detached the paperclip from his chin and inch by inch began to uncurl the most enormous chin hair that Rory had ever seen. By the time he had finished it curled down to his waist.
“I’ve had a lot of peace and quiet to work on them all. No one really dares to come up here since I developed my er … shall we say diversionary tactics.”
“No wonder,” said Rory. “They think they’re going to be attacked. Bella Valentine has been dining out on this story for two years. Wait until it’s revealed that it was some bellows, a gas mask and a shower head! How have you managed to survive for so long?”
“Well pretty much everything I need is here … bathroom at the end of the corridor, a stairway that takes you up to the north-east turret so I can get fresh air. And I have some access to other parts of the building,” said Stagg. “I’ll show you.” Walking over to a small door at the far corner of the corridor, Stagg disappeared inside. “Come and have a look,” he shouted. Rory faltered. A few minutes ago he had been facing the beast of Corridor Five and now he was entering a dark unknown space with the man behind it all and nobody knew he was here. He also realized that if Lachlan Stagg did away with him, then he could still claim that he had remained hidden and wait another hundred or so days before reappearing. Rory decided that there was something about Lachlan Stagg that seemed as though he could cope with being found and that he would find another record to break.
Grimm Page 15
