Do you have a room to rent?

Do you have a room available?

Thomas O'Malley was not a brave man, in fact Thomas was a coward and a bum, standing less than five feet four, bright unruly red hair and a heavy sprinkle of freckles marred his cheeks, to say that he was homely wouldn't be a lie. He was skinny, barely a wisp of a man, his wife always said one good gust of wind and he would blow away. His wife, now she was far from wispy herself, in fact she was a hefty woman with extra curves to spare. Thomas loved that about her, a woman that wasn’t afraid to eat. They adored one another, the only thing Mary loved more than Thomas, was a good meal. But she had a temper, and she was tired of Thomas sitting on his bony butt doing nothing more than yelling at his favorite footy team on the television. They were far from grand, living in a three room shack. The paint was peeling off the walls, and the windows were cracked, and Mary O'Malley was fed up. Why should she have to live in such disrepair? She worked hard, and it was only fair that her husband do the same, after all her sister lived in a nice house across town, her husband made a very decent living, he owned several buildings around Dublin. So as much as it pained her she put her rather large foot down and told Thomas to get a job or get out. In fear of losing his wife, a good home cooked meal and his warm bed he reluctantly went out looking. After a few weeks with no job prospects his brother in law took pity on old Thomas and gave him a job at one of the hotels he owned. The Marigold wasn’t a high end kinda place, in fact it was the polar opposite. Deep in the seediest part of Dublin no decent folk would dare set foot in the area. But it was a job, and it pleased Mary. It was night shift, he hated that, he would miss all the footy games down at the pub with his mates. Mary brushed the lint from his uniform and straightened his tie. She was beaming, so proud of her man. He couldn't possibly complain. Besides who was going to hire a fifty something man with no education, or drive to work for that matter. It was a simple job, sit at a desk in the front entrance and do a few rounds in the 3 story building, the place was closed down.

Cornelius Brown, his boss and brother in law, was honest with Thomas. There had been a horrible accident, which was a rather kind way of putting it. A few weeks back, some unsavory bloke had slipped past their last security guard and gone knocking on room doors pretending to be room service, and to make a terrible story short, killed a woman on the first floor. All for twenty three dollars and the ring he pried off her dead finger. It made old Thomas shudder.

No time to over think though as Mary handed him his brown bag lunch, a few coins for bus fare and pushed him out the door. The sky was dusky, and by the time the bus dropped him off in front of the Marigold the night was upon him. It was unusually cold this October night. He pulled the collar of his jacket up to his ears. Cornelius met him out front, he looked uncomfortable, glancing nervously up at the darkened windows of the first floor. He handed Thomas the keys, told him his duties and reminded him twice not to open the doors for anyone. He was to walk the lobby front to back, check the locks on both doors, then every hour or two take the elevator up to each floor and check that all room doors were locked. Word got around, no one wanted to rent his rooms, especially with the killer still on the loose, his guest book was empty. The killer had gotten away before the police could get to the scene of the crime. Not exactly the kind of publicity a hotel needed. Cornelius left quickly, his driver opening the back of his limousine. He poked his bald head out the back window, giving him one last piece of advice.

“Keep the front door locked. If the phone rings, ignore it.”

Before he could ask why the car sped off into the empty streets. Thomas cleared his throat nervously watching the tail lights disappear from view.

He glanced up and down the abandoned street and hurried to the front door. One of the three large window panes facing the street was shattered; it was covered with a large piece of plywood. The neon sign usually had a glow off, making the place look even stranger. He glanced around, the buildings were quiet, there were no lights on, it looked like a ghost town. He unlocked the door and hurried inside, bolting it shut. He set his lunch on the security desk and sat down on the old chair, it squeaked as he sat down, the sound echoing in the empty lobby. He looked around uncomfortably. He didn’t like the place one bit. The poor poor woman, stabbed to death. The first blow had been in her room, she’d managed to run out of the room and into the hallway where she collapsed, and with her last breath she watched someone steal her beloved wedding ring. Frances Marie Bennet, was a frequent guest at the Marigold, an older lady in her seventies. Her husband ironically had died several years back in room 105, heart attack. As a tribute she came to celebrate their anniversary every year, as she’d done when he was alive. Of course many years ago this street had been a kinder place, swinging discos, cafes, and overflowing pubs. There was even a thriving theater down the way. It was heartbreaking really.

A terrible way to go. Thomas took off his cap and placed it over his heart,”Poor wee thing,” He said aloud,”Should never have opened your door dear.” He placed his cap firmly on his head. Thomas looked around the dusty run down lobby, why couldn't Cornelius give him an easy gig, say at one of the banks downtown, it was an easy job, sitting in a little booth, with a little television. He pulled out his phone, maybe he could find a game. Unlucky for him there wasn’t one that evening. He text Mary, she was just climbing into their nice warm bed. He sighed standing up, tucking his thumbs in the belt of his pants. He had to admit, he felt like a big man, putting on a uniform made him feel like somebody. He had a canister of mace, a baton and a nice little hat. He glanced at the badge on his arm, he was practically an officer of the law. He puffed out his nonexistent chest. He decided to do his first rounds, while he was feeling brave. Thomas figured he could work his way down starting on the third floor, ten rooms on each floor. It wouldn't take long and he could get back to sitting and sipping his coffee and watching something on his phone. The lights were out, but he wasn’t brave enough to go down into the basement to check the fuse box. Maybe Cornelius had turned off the power to save a little coin, stingy bastard that he was. But Thomas figured it made sense, why heat and light the hallways if no one was living there. Besides going into the basement?! They aren’t paying me enough for that crap! He told himself. Thomas had seen himself enough horror flicks to know that bad things happen to people that go into dark old basements alone. He checked each door, happy to find them all locked, what would he have done if they were open? Thomas made his way quickly to the elevator uncomfortable with having his back to the empty hallway. His overactive imagination telling him someone might come rushing up to him. Maybe the killer went back to find himself some more loot.

He really found himself uncomfortable on the first floor. Thomas told himself it was because of what Cornelious said. A woman had died here.On this very floor. Anyone would feel uncomfortable. Room 105 really made him uncomfortable. This was where it happened. Police tape was placed across the door in a giant X, along with a shiny padlock that maintenance had put on the outside of the door. Apparently the police still didn’t want anyone in the room. He touched the door, surprised at how cold it felt. Thomas glanced down at the small space between the carpet and the bottom of the door. Cool air pushed through the space over his cheap shoes and up his pant legs. He shuddered, taking a step backward. He ignored the unease he felt and moved down the hall.

Everything was good, he felt accomplished and his chest puffed out again. The elevator stopped with a clunk, the entire box shook as it hit the lobby floor.The doors opened. He swung that gate to the side and it clanged against the frame.

A cold blast of air hit him in the face. Thomas’s eyes widened, he froze for a moment. The front door was wide open, he stared, slack jawed. He walked nervously to the front entrance and shut the door. He was sure he’d closed it, he glanced over at his desk, his brown paper bag was still there. The reception counter looked untouched. Nothing looked out of the ordinary. He reassured himself that he mustn’t have closed it properly. Thomas locked the door and went back to his desk. Glancing at his watch he sighed again. Only a few hours to go, he thought. Finally comfortable behind the desk he opened his phone to check his social media pages when the phone on the corner of his desk rang. It was an old rotary phone, which seemed out of place in this day and age, however the entire hotel seemed a little out of date, the ring sounded shrill. Mary would say a noise like that could wake the dead. He picked it up on the second ring. He picked it up before remembering that he was instructed not to.

“Marigold Hotel,” he answered. Too late to hang up now he thought. At first silence, heavy breathing,”Hello?” he added.

“Hello, an elderly woman finally spoke, her voice was soft, it was hard to understand her.”Do you have any rooms for rent?” she asked him.

“No miss,”the connection was terrible.”The hotel is closed for renovations.” That was what Cornelius told him earlier, if anyone came to the door to tell them they were renovating. On his rounds earlier there hadn’t been a single tool, ladder or paint can. Perhaps they were upgrading some of the rooms.

“Oh.” The woman's tone was disappointed.”I always stay at the Marigold when I come to town.”

Before Thomas could apologize the line went dead. He set the receiver down. Staring at the phone for a moment. Another hour or two dragged by and he reluctantly headed back to his duties. He started with the first floor, a flashlight shaking in his hand as he checked each door. As he got closer to room 105 he could hear the faint sound of a television and two people talking quietly, laughing. He heard the clink of glasses like someone was toasting in celebration. He knew that sound, for sure. He moved the tape aside, pressing his ear against the door. Yes sir, the television was definitely on. He knocked on the door hesitantly. Maybe a couple of homeless people had snuck in earlier. After all, he had found the lobby door wide open. But how had they gotten in with the padlock still on the outside of the door. He cleared his throat and tapped gently on the door. Calling out.”Is someone there?” The answer came as a loud bang against the door. Like someone had hit the door with their fist or thrown something at the back of the door. Thomas jumped back. Was he losing his mind? Maybe his imagination was getting the better of him.

He would check to see if any of the keys downstairs were missing behind the reception desk, but again who would have gotten past the padlock. There wasn’t much he could do anyhow, he wasn’t permitted to go in the rooms. Maybe it was just the sound of a television in the building beside theirs. He finished his rounds and headed straight to the front desk. He opened the key cabinet behind the reception counter, all the keys were accounted for. He gave his brother in law a quick call on his phone. Pacing uncomfortably around the lobby. Cornelious was far from impressed, he’d been in bed sound asleep.

“Are you sure no one is in the hotel?” he asked his brother in law, explaining that he swore he heard a television in one of the rooms. It slipped his mind to mention what room it was or that he had left the front lobby door wide open earlier. Cornelious was cross, impatient, he called Thomas an idiot and promptly hung up. He felt silly, maybe someone had left a window open in the room and what he thought was a television was nothing more than people walking past the street. The bang on the door? The wind might have blown something over. Ya, that was it, he told himself.

Thomas took a deep breath. It was definitely his imagination. He was tired, and he was certainly not used to being up this late. He couldn't afford to lose this job. He wouldn't call Cornelius again. It was just past two in the morning when he sat back down at the front desk. He pulled out his sandwich, smacking his lips. Mary sure knew how to put a roast beef sandwich together. Layers of roast beef and ample dolaps of horseradish. He’d took a huge bit when that damned phone rang again

“Hello, Marigold hotel.” he answered, a little annoyed as he tried to chew down the massive mouthful. He took a sip of his coffee and swallowed.

“Hello? Do you have any rooms available.” a woman asked, the line crackled but he was sure it was the same woman that had called earlier.

“We are closed for renovations Miss, I've explained this to you already.”

“Oh, that's too bad, I always stay at The Marigold when I come to town.” the line went dead again.

He put the phone down and concentrated on his lunch. He took another sip of his coffee and devoured the rest of his first sandwich. A soft knock interrupted him, it took him a moment to realize that it was coming from the back door, when Thomas investigated he found the back entrance secure. He returned to the front lobby. Another cold blast of October wind hit him smack in the face. The front door was wide open again. He ran to the door and slammed it shut with such force the glass shook. He bolted the door. This time he pulled on the handle to make sure it was secure. Staring at it for a long moment. I locked it this time, I did, I really did! He thought to himself. He tiptoed through the lobby, it was empty. The elevator was empty, the sliding metal gate sat firmly to one side where he had left it. If someone had come in he would have heard the gate close, and the elevator. It was heavy and old and made a great deal of noise when moving from floor to floor. A quick check behind the reception counter soothed his nerves. Perhaps the lock is broken, he told himself, again? He sat there, at his desk, staring at the front door.

By 4 am, Thomas was ready to pack up his lunch and head home. But there wasn't a bus and it was a good hour walk home. He feared what was outside more, every once and a while he would see an unsavory character stagger up to the door, smashing his face against the glass to see if anyone was there. When they saw him they would hustle down the street. He would take his chances with an abandoned hotel. Thomas was staring at the small screen on his phone, not really paying attention, it was just a distraction. Three more hours old man, he thought to himself.

Then it happened, heavy footsteps above his head. Like someone was running frantically from one end of the hall to the other, banging on every door. He picked up the old phone on the desk and dialed Cornelius. He was startled to hear that same woman's voice, asking over and over again if there was a room for rent. Each time she ends her sentence with, I always stay at The Marigold when I am in town. The line went dead and there was no dial tone. He set the receiver down and whipped out his phone. Thomas dialed 112. Instead of a police officer he heard, “Hello, do you have a room to rent?” He dropped his phone on the marble floor and the screen shattered. Then the running footsteps over his head started again. Up and down, up and down the voice was muffled, but he could tell if it was a female asking for help. She frantically banged her fist against the other hotel room doors. “Someone help me please!” He rushed to the front door, swinging it open and glancing side to side. Only an empty street met his gaze. There was no one to help him. Not normally a chivalrous guy, he knew he had to help whoever was upstairs. Thomas had no choice but to investigate.

He was physically shaking as he made his way up to the first floor, Mace in hand, Thomas gingerly opened the cage. Peering down the hallway.

The doors were all locked. He made his way up to the second and third floor. Nothing. He scratched his head confused as he made his way down the elevator into the lobby.

“No!” he gasped, it wasn’t possible. He stared at the open door. The wind pushed the leaves across the lobby floor. By now Thomas had about had enough. He was about to grab his jacket and what was left of his phone and head away. When the phone on his desk rang. One ring, two rings, three rings. It was deafening, he covered his ears at first. Six, seven, eight, nine. It just wasn’t stopping, Thomas forced himself to walk, he picked it up, his hand visibly shaking.

“Do you have a room available?” the woman asked. The same woman that had called all evening. When Thomas didn’t answer she repeated herself.”Do you have a room available? I always stay here when I am in town.” He just stood there frozen.

The hair on the back of his neck stood up, and he slammed the phone down. He picked up the phone quickly to dial his employer, to tell him that he was leaving but there was no dial tone. Thomas took a step back, the leaves that had blown in before were wet, he slipped on them his body doing a jerky clumsy dance back and forth before falling and hitting his head on the corner of the desk. On its own the rotary phone flew across the desk, crashing onto the ground beside him, Thomas rose slowly touching the goose egg forming above his brow. He looked down at the phone on the ground, tilting his head sideways in disbelief. There was no cord, he glanced at the wall, the phone jack was empty. Fear crawled up his spine. Who was the woman he’d spoken to? How had he been talking to her? A cold wrinkled hand touched his shoulder, Thomas glanced sideways just enough to see the hand, pale and white, covered in age spots, but the skin looked wrong, it looked dead. Then a soft voice asked,”Do you have a room available? We always stay here when we are in town. He turned to see Frances Bennet and her husband staring dead eyed at him. That was enough for old Thomas, he ran out of the lobby, only glancing back once he was safely on the street. The door to the Marigold Hotel slammed shut then locked, he could see an old woman standing, staring out from the lobby. Her husband beside her, his arm around her shoulder. She didn’t look all that sad, Thomas thought, Frances was reunited with her husband right?She smiled, raising a hand up in a small goodbye wave. Go ahead lady, he thought take any room you like. Thomas practically ran the entire way home.