Free Top O' the Mournin' by Maddy Hunter Page B

Drag it down and I’ll wheel her in. Be careful though. My laptop’s in it. Tilly! You wanna step out here and find your grip?”
    Etienne shot me a quizzical look. I lifted my eyebrows and shoulders in a tandem shrug. “That’s what I was trying to tell you. Nana and Tilly are spending the night with me until another room comes available.”
    “It’s on account a the dead body,” said Nana.
    Etienne hauled Nana’s suitcase down from the top of the heap and fired another quizzical look at me. “Dead body?”
    Tilly trundled into the hall and, after a moment, stabbed the tip of her cane at a tattered pullman. “This one’s mine. Look at it, all frayed and patched. But I think of it as an old warrior who’s fought his way through a lifetime of campaigns.”
    I imagined the exotic places Tilly and her pullman had visited over the years. Bora Bora. Kathmandu. The Casbah. As Etienne unloaded it off the trolley, I regarded its worn seams and scarred fabric with respectful awe. “Wow. They don’t make luggage like they used to. That suitcase has to be—what?—twenty, thirty years old?”
    “It’s practically brand-new,” said Tilly. “But you have to understand, it’s been through O’Hare a couple of times.”
    Nana wheeled her suitcase into the room and extended her thanks, as did Tilly, who closed the door behind them. Etienne drilled me with one of his patented police-inspector looks. “Dead body?”
    “A chambermaid named Rita. She died in Nana’s room sometime today. The desk clerk claims she had a bad heart. We didn’t see any signs of foul play, so he could be right. Nana figured she’d been dead between six and eight hours.”
    “How would your grandmother know that?”
    “Discovery Channel.”
    Frustration pulled at the fine angles of his face. “Tell me again how long you have to share your room?”
    “Just tonight,” to which I reluctantly added, “unless there’s a problem finding them another room. They’re short-staffed, so…” I let him fill in the blank.
    “The ladies could relocate to my room. I could move in here.” He looked hopeful for a moment before reevaluating his solution. “I don’t suppose that will look too good for you should word leak out. It could rather tarnish your professional image.” He pinched the bridge of his nose as if trying to ward off a migraine.
    “I’m sure there won’t be any problem finding them another room,” I consoled. “This is just a…an inconvenience.”
    He let out an exasperated sigh and cast a curious glance toward the palpable quiet of the lobby. “Did someone call the authorities about your dead maid?”
    “A long time ago.”
    “Odd they haven’t arrived yet. Perhaps I should offer my assistance to the desk clerk. Which room did you say the body is in?”
    Uh-oh. This wasn’t good. If he involved himself with the investigation of Rita’s death, I’d never see him. I grabbed his forearm with both hands. “Remember when Ashley said the castle is haunted? I think she may be telling the truth.”
    He paused, looking me straight in the eye. “Why do you say that?”
    “There’s this legend about two star-crossed lovers searching for each other throughout eternity. People have heard unearthly wails and seen bloody footprints, and even though Tilly thinks the maid might have died because she wasn’t on a Special K diet, I think she died of fright.”
    He digested this with typical Swiss equanimity. “Are you implying that you think the maid saw a ghost?”
    “Tilly used to teach a course, so she’s an expert on the subject. She says this place has been haunted since the time of James I, which was”—I searched my memory for the dates when James I ruled England—“a really long time ago.”
    “Over three hundred and fifty years. Close to four.”
    I paused to register that. These were some old ghosts. “The expression on the maid’s face is chilling, Etienne. She looks terrified. If you ask me, she saw something