Top O' the Mournin' (19 page)

Hrrrrrmmmm.

I buried my head under the covers and clapped my hands over my ears. I wondered how many minutes were left on the timer. I curled up into a cozy ball, waiting for the time to run out. I didn’t have to worry about the noise disturbing Jack. He always slept like the dead.

“How long are you planning to listen to that damn thing before you decide to get up and turn it off?” rasped a groggy Jackie from the opposite bed.

I poked my head out of its makeshift cocoon. “What are you doing awake? You used to be able to sleep through anything.”

“Yeah. That was one of the benefits of being a guy. I could sleep through a nuclear blast. Not anymore. It must be estrogen related. So are you going to kill the tub?”

“It’s too cold in here to get out of bed. Besides, what’s wrong with
you
killing the tub?”

“With all that glass on the floor? Get real, Emily. You’re the one with the rugged shoes. Mine are open-toed.”

I burrowed deeper under the covers. “I don’t want to move.”

“It’s your room. If I wasn’t here, you’d have to turn it off yourself anyway.”

Not true. If Jack wasn’t here, Etienne would have been, so I’d have asked
him
to do it. And I probably wouldn’t be so cold right now either.

Hrrrrrmmmm.

I grunted my disgust with the situation, then, feeling completely out of sorts, threw off my covers, jammed my feet into my shoes, and stomped across the floor in the dark.

“Don’t bump into the chair in front of the door,” Jackie called out helpfully.

“Yeah, yeah.” I shoved the chair out of the way. I opened the door.

WOOOOOSHHHHH!

“EEEEEEE!” I screamed as a tidal wave of wet, frothing goop smacked into me full force, knocking me to the floor. HRRRRRMMMM went the whirlpool. “EEEEEEE!” I screamed again, flailing at the slop that was enveloping my body. “Help me!”

I heard Jackie’s feet hit the floor and pound toward me. “What’s—EHHH!” She hit the slop at full throttle, skidded out of control across the carpet, and landed in a heap beside me, whacking the slime with hands and fists. “What
is
this?” she shrieked. “Feel it. It’s alive. It’s breathing.” THWACK. SPISH. “It’s eating my foot!”

HRRRRRMMMM!

It oozed around me like quicksand. “It’s some kind of secretion,” I said, swatting it away. “I hope it’s not intestines!”

Jackie raised herself onto hands and knees. “Whatever it is, it sure smells good. What is that? Lavender? Lavender is supposed to be very good for headaches, you know.”

Lavender? I stopped swatting and started sniffing. It
was
lavender. I squinted in the direction of the bathroom. Uh-oh.

HRRRRRMMMM!

I struggled to my feet and slogged my way through the billowing goop to the bathroom door. I flipped on the light.

Bubbles were spewing out of the tub like lava out of a volcano. Frothing. Gushing. Swelling. “What did you do?” I cried over the roar of the motor to Jackie. I plunged through the knee-deep foam and batted clouds of bubbles away from the tub.

“What do you mean, what did I do?” she shouted back.

HRRRRRMMMM! I dug through the spume like a dog after a bone, located the power switch, and snapped it to the
OFF
position.

Silence.

I looked around the room. There were bubbles everywhere. Crawling over the vanity. Oozing out of the toilet. Slithering down the walls. I heaved a sigh before turning around to regard Jackie, who was standing calf-high in soapsuds in the doorway. “Bubble bath!” I wailed. “Lavender bubble bath! Didn’t you read the label? You’re not supposed to use bubble bath with the whirlpool!”

“I didn’t touch the bubble bath!”

“Then how did this happen?”

“How should I know! Unless…” I watched her expression change from stubborn denial to conceivable guilt. “Hmm. Do you suppose I knocked the container off the ledge when the lights went out?”

“You knocked everything else off. Why not the bubble bath?”

“Hey! It was dark in there!”

“HHHHRRRRRRRRHHHHH…HHHHRRRRRRRRHHHHH!”

I looked at Jackie. Jackie looked at me. I stood riveted to the spot, chills needling up and down my spine. “What’s that?” I whispered.

Jackie poked her head into the bathroom and studied the ceiling as if the answer to my question lay imbedded in the porcelain tile. “That’s the same noise I heard last night. The orgasm heard round the world. I bet it’s Gladys Kuppelman. She probably drinks pureed kelp to enhance sexual potency.”

“It’s a sad sound.” I cocked my head, listening. “I think she’s crying.”

“Maybe Ira launched his torpedoes early. Premature ejaculation is no laughing matter.”

“Hhhhrrrrrrrrhhhhh…Hhhhrrrrrrrrhhhhh!”

“Where’s it coming from?” I puzzled. “It sounds like it’s right inside the room.”

Color drained from Jackie’s face. She looked suspiciously left and right, then swallowed with apparent difficulty. “Oh, my God. This is what you were talking about. The legend. The hauntings. The cries are from that dead girl who’s looking for her husband. Those are the sobs of the ghost, aren’t they?”

“Somebody’s sobbing. I think we need to find out who.”

Jackie stiffened. “We?”

“Hhhhrrrrrrrrhhhhh…Hhhhrrrrrrrrhhhhh!”

“If we don’t find out who’s crying, no one will
ever
get a good night’s sleep in this place.”

She wrung her hands nervously. “It’s not so bad. Earplugs would probably help. Do you have some I could borrow?”

I sloshed past her through the disintegrating bubbles. “Here’s the deal. We can either lie in bed and listen to this all night, or we can try to find the source.” My shoes made squishy sounds on the carpet as I flipped on the overhead light.

“Why are you being so brave?” She chased behind me as I armed myself with flashlight, matches, and the aerosol spray can from my shoulder bag. “You said the ghost may be responsible for the death of two people! What if she sets her sights on us? I’m not ready to die! There’s too much I haven’t experienced yet. Regular sex. Make-up sex. Childbirth.”

I stopped dead in my tracks. “Childbirth?”

“Hhhhrrrrrrrrhhhhh…HHHHrrrrrrrrhhhhh!”

“Okay, since I’ve remembered I don’t have a uterus, that could be a stretch. But there’s always surrogacy. Which reminds me, when Tom and I decide to start a family, would you be willing to consider carrying our baby for us?”

I sucked in a mouthful of air and tried not to choke on it. “ARE YOU NUTS?”

“Maybe you need time to consider. You’re probably under a little stress right now.”

“I…You…Aargh!” I threw my hands into the air and stormed to the door.

“Is that a no?” she called after me.

The corridor was illuminated by a series of frosted-glass wall sconces that shot naked light upward, toward the ceiling, and muted light downward, toward my sodden Joe Boxers and cotton top. I cast a long look down the hall toward the lobby area. I wondered if the desk clerk could deny hearing this. I jogged to the front desk and looked around. No one on duty. No wonder they never heard anything. I hit the
Please Ring Bell For Service
bell and waited. Nothing. Shaking my head, I struck out in the opposite direction.

“HHHHRRRRRRRRHHHHH…HHHHRRRRRRRRHHHHH!”

The cries were louder in the hall than in my room. I scrutinized the celery-and-cream-striped wallpaper and darker green wainscoting that lined the walls, my finger poised on the nozzle of my air freshener, ready to spray the hell out of the first thing that moved. I wasn’t exactly sure what I was looking for, but I was hopeful I’d recognize it if I saw it.

I listened for telltale sounds beneath numerous pictures of grazing sheep and crumbling abbeys that were suspended on wires from the crown molding. Nothing. I snooped around vases of fresh flowers that sat atop marble stands in shell-shaped niches cut into the wall. Nothing. I was standing outside Etienne’s room at the end of the corridor, wondering if I should enlist his help, when I heard a sudden “Pssst!” Since I wasn’t smelling strawberry shortcake, I was pretty sure I hadn’t misfired the air freshener. When I heard the sound again, I looked over my shoulder to find Jackie running barefoot down the hall toward me. She was wearing my satin wrap over her babydoll, which wasn’t much of an improvement over her nightie except that at least it wasn’t see-through. “What?” I called out in a stage whisper as she approached.

“I changed my mind. I’m coming with you. It’s too scary in there by myself.”

“You’re sure you want to do this?” I insisted.

“No, but it beats the alternative.” She danced from foot to foot and patted her arms for warmth. “Can we keep moving though? It’s
freezing
out here.”

With Jackie in tow, I bypassed Etienne’s door and proceeded to the end of the corridor, where a sharp turn to the left led us down a short passageway that terminated in an arched door upon which were painted, in Old English script, the words: N
O
E
NTRY
. A metal hasp was attached to the door’s deeply scarred wood and was secured to a D ring on the wall with a padlock. “This must be the entrance to the dungeon,” I said, remembering what Etienne had said. I yanked on the padlock, but it was one of those heavy-duty kinds that looked like a miniature version of a Brink’s truck.

“Tough break,” said Jackie. “All locked up. Guess we’ll have to go back to the room.” She wrapped her hand around my arm and tried to pull me away, but I shook her off.

“You can go back if you want,” I said, poking at the padlock as I turned it upside down and right side up. “I’m staying. There must be some way to open this thing up without a key.”

“How about a stick of dynamite?”

I flashed a hopeful smile. “You have some on you?”

“Jeez, Emily, you really want to get down there, don’t you?”

I pressed my ear to the door. “There’s something in this dungeon that someone in Ballybantry Castle doesn’t want us to find out about. I want to know what.”

Jackie heaved a huge sigh. “Oh, all right, but it’s going to cost you. How about you fork over that lipstick you were wearing today. It’s the perfect shade for the outfit I’m planning to wear tomorrow.”

I stared at her doubtfully. “Are you telling me you can open this door?”

She plucked a hairpin from the bun at the back of my head. “Piece of cake. Out of the way, please.” She inserted one arm of the hairpin into the plug at the bottom of the padlock and worked it up and down with the skill of a master jeweler. “When I was in high school, I was always losing the key to the padlock on my gym locker, so I got a lot of practice picking locks. My best friend used to tell me if I didn’t make it as an actor, I’d make a great petty thief.” The metal shackle sprang open. Jackie gave it a quarter twist, lifted it out of the D ring, and swung back the latch. “Is it a deal on the lipstick?”

“I have the matching nail polish,” I said excitedly. “I’ll throw that in too.”

We touched fists in agreement before Jackie depressed the tongue on the door handle and opened the door.
Creeeeeeeeeeeeak.

A blast of foul-smelling air rushed up from the bowels of the castle, sweeping over us like the fetid breath of some prehistoric beast. “Phew!” said Jackie. I pressed the back of my hand to my nose, but the odor had already settled in my nostrils. The dankness of moist earth and decay. The mustiness of unlit subterranean chambers. The stench of once-living things moldering in the darkness. I eyed the uneven stone steps, plunging downward into what looked like a pit of infinite blackness, and took a step backward, my courage wavering.

“Where’s the light?” asked Jackie, searching the inner wall for a switch.

“Umm…there’s no electricity down there.”

She snapped her head around. Fire leaped from her eyes. “This gets better all the time. Two dead bodies, ghosts roaming the halls, and no lights in the dungeon. Anything else you forgot to mention?”

I could have told her the ribbon binding on her babydoll nightie had ripped away and was dangling to her thighs, but that might have been a little too upsetting for her to cope with right now. “That’s all I can think of at the moment.”

“HHHHRRRRRRRRHHHHH…HHHHRRRRRRRRHHHHH!”

My mouth went dry. My heart leaped into my throat. I stared at Jackie. She stared at me. “Okay,” I said nervously. “We might as well get this over with.”

“You carry the flashlight,” said Jackie. “Give me the Mace.”

“It’s not exactly Mace.” I handed it over to her. She held it up to read the label.

“Strawberry Shortcake room freshener?”

“Air deodorizer can be a very effective weapon in the war on crime,” I defended. “It’s nonviolent, nontoxic, and causes no permanent damage, though it might leave you a little uncomfortable if you have allergies. It’ll work best if you can get off a sustained squirt to the eyes.”

Jackie shook her head. “And women wonder why they put men in charge of the military. How about you hand over the matches too? I’m not going to be caught down there without a light source.”