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In all of them, the plaster was falling. There were signs of animal infestations and wallpaper peeled from walls in the more expensive suites. The cheaper ones the common folk had used were all yellowed plaster and filled with damp. Mariah hissed as she walked from room to room. Benedict stared at the damaged bedframes, torn and mouldy mattresses, and closets with doors hanging off. Ottomans didn’t have lids or were broken, and the windows were so dirty barely any sunlight filtered through.
As Benedict followed her, Mariah tutted at the ugly wiring nailed to walls and the rusted disgusting radiators. Wooden floors were missing planks, and in the grandest room was a massive hole. Mariah muttered something under her breath and headed downstairs.
Benedict watched her as she moved towards the kitchen, and a scream came from her lips. Not at anything he’d done, Benedict noted sourly, but at the horror that had been made of his kitchen. Benedict had been sleeping when someone bought the inn, and the first thing they’d done was instal this monstrosity.
“Designers worldwide are weeping,” Mariah whispered as her eyes roamed the large space. Benedict knew what she saw. Dull yellow cabinets the colour of off-custard. A dirty yellow worktop ran across three walls, and blue cupboards were underneath.
“Damn, the 1950s just called and want their bad design ideas back.” Mariah shuddered. She pointed her finger at the room. “Your days are done, trust me!”
Benedict chuckled, which caused Mariah’s head to snap around, but she stared straight through him. Mariah marched towards him, which made Benedict jump to one side. Otherwise, she’d have gone through him, and that would be uncomfortable.
He followed as she walked to where the owner’s suite was held at the back in a converted stable. The stables were now separate from the main building. Benedict’s mouth opened as she passed through the door and paused. Blast!
Mariah
“Well, what a shock,” Mariah whispered.
She wandered into the hallway, which had several doors on the left. Passing through the first, she walked into a living room, large enough for a family, but with the beams and off-white walls, it gave off a cosy air. What clearly was strange was it was clean. The remainder of the inn was covered in cobwebs and dust. But these rooms gleamed, as did the wooden furniture. Puzzled, she spotted a door into another room and entered, finding an equally clean dining room.
“This doesn’t make sense,” Mariah whispered as she stood, taking in the cosy grandeur of the room. And it was grand. She spied a door and returned to the hallway before walking into another room twice the size of the others. It was a study slash library, and Mariah was amazed at how tidy it was. She had noted the fireplaces in all three rooms had been used and were clean and laid out to be lit tonight. She passed through the door and stopped, stunned.
This was what the inn kitchen should look like. Not only was it immaculate, but it also had original features. Heavy wooden worktops, a huge table to prepare food on, and two fireplaces for roasting meat or cooking soups. And all the plates, cutlery, cooking instruments and utensils she could wish for. They may be old, but they were in perfect condition. Mariah wandered out the door and headed upstairs to the second level. The first room held a bathroom with a clawed foot tub, a toilet, and a sink. The next four had bedrooms, while the fifth held the master suite.
This had clearly been a man’s domain, Mariah realised. The dark wood and plum wallpaper offered an air of intimacy. Let alone the four-poster bed dominating the room. There were two chests of drawers and a huge four-door wardrobe. Clean rugs were scattered across the floor, and the bedding smelt and felt fresh. On opening another door, she discovered a perfectly tidy bathroom with another huge-sized, this time clawed foot bath, toilet, and sink.
“Why is the apartment so clean?” Maggie wondered, walking out and sitting on the bed. “I bet the estate agents had cleaners come in. That’s the logical answer, silly girl, Mariah!”
“Get out,” the thread of a whisper caught her ears.
“Go away. There’s no such thing as ghosts!” Mariah denied and closed her eyes before lying down. Oh, the mattress felt wonderful, and she spread her arms out. Her hand touched a cold patch, and she froze. While the inn was cold, it wasn’t that chilly. She shifted her hand upwards, and it got warmer, the same when she moved it down. But in the middle, it was stone cold.
“Strange,” Mariah said. A sense of being watched passed over her, and she sat up, peering around.
“Get out!” the whisper demanded again.
Mariah scowled. She’d been pushed around enough. Not damn likely. Whatever this was, and it wasn’t a ghost, it could get stuffed. It was probably something to do with that guy who’d molested her in the car park. Lips pursed and mind set, Mariah strode out of the bedroom and down the stairs.
This was her inn!
Benedict
Benedict watched, puzzled. That had been easy! Usually, he had to resort to frightening tactics. Oh well. He followed Mariah down the hallway and into the inn, where she stormed through the entrance. Good riddance, he thought. The Black Cat trilled an alarm at him, but he ignored it. The human had fled, which was fine. Therefore, minutes later, his jaw hit the ground when she stomped back in with two suitcases, a cat carrier, and a box. Mariah dropped them on the floor and disappeared outside again. The Black Cat laughed at him, and Benedict scowled. She’d seen what Mariah was up to, whereas he’d been behind the thick walls. Mariah re-entered and dumped another load of boxes before making a third and fourth trip.
“He can kiss my ass!” Mariah whispered her mind elsewhere as Benedict’s mouth fell open at the rude language.
“Get out!” he roared this time, and Mariah jumped.
Mariah
There was no denying somebody wanted her to leave. The question was why. And also, what the hell did Klaus Anderson want? Mariah sensed the Black Cat was threatened but couldn’t understand why either. Other than the access to the canal, it was another pretty inn down a country lane. She dumped the last items on the floor when a guy roared at her to leave.
“Not happening!” Mariah yelled back.
“You shall regret this decision, wench!”
“Not bloody likely. Now come out of where you’re hiding and bugger off before I call the police!”
“Only death lives here!” the chilling reply returned.
