Grimm (3 page)
Authors: Mike Nicholson
The first stage of Rory’s preparations involved undertaking some background research and he turned to his computer to see what the Internet could offer. He soon found that there was disappointingly little about Hotel Grimm. It was almost as though the search engines refused to handle the name or produce any results. The main reference he did track down was on a website that listed all of the known cable cars in the world. It provided a potted history on where Scrab Hill’s own machine had appeared from.
Rory learned that, on returning from the war in 1946 with too many ideas and a large inheritance to spend, Sir Gregory Grimm had set to work having the contraption built that still stood to this day. Within the history of the cable car, there was also a report of a mini avalanche in 1989 on Scrab Hill that had buried three children and their dog while they were out sledging one January afternoon. The unusual movement of the snow that had left the group trapped up to their necks had been blamed on the quivering pylons of the cable car. Given that the cable car had such a strong connection with the Hotel, the finger of blame was pointed at the establishment for nearly taking the lives of some of the town’s youngsters.
Rory’s Internet search also revealed the obituary of hotel critic, Katy Cribb, who on the day her review of Hotel Grimm was published in 2007, had choked on a chunk of aubergine and died at the very next place she visited. Her review had been scathing to say the least:
I use the word “dump” advisedly as that appears to be excessively complimentary. If our magazine had a way of awarding minus scores … Hotel Grimm would surely deserve them all. It is a catastrophically bad experience to
cross the threshold, let alone brave staying the night there.
Katy Cribb would now review no more and it seemed that the hotel had somehow managed to serve its own rather extreme judgment on her opinion of it, even after she had left the premises.
Other than that, the best that Rory had got from an hour or two of searching were enough references to suggest that
The Chronicle’s
archive located in Aberfintry’s library, might provide the best source of information. He also found reference to one book on the hotel. The locally-produced publication was about Hotel Grimm’s statues and stone carvings and had been written by Lachlan Stagg. Rory knew that the unfortunate author, who was now missing presumed dead, had been Aberfintry’s best attempt at having a local celebrity, before his own Zizz-inspired appearance. Stagg’s efforts at gaining as many world records as he could, had given the town much entertainment over the years and helped to put it on the map.
Realizing that newspapers and books needed to be the next port of call, Rory decided to make a journey to the library, although this in itself presented something of a challenge. Given the choice, he tended to spend time playing on his computer or kicking a ball around rather than putting any effort into deciding what to read, let alone ploughing through a book itself. At best, Rory dipped into a few comics, so as he approached the library at the end of a school day, he felt like a fish about to head out of the water. It didn’t help to bump into Marnie di Angelo, one of Gracie Goodman’s friends as he reached the door.
“Zizz Boy?” she said with a raised eyebrow. “Fancy seeing you here. Just here to read about yourself in the magazines are you?”
Rory mumbled something in response, feeling like a giant spotlight had just been turned on him, and that anyone inside would be staring at him. The only familiar person that Rory spotted, was Bonnie O’Donnell. Thanks to Gordon and Gracie Goodman, Bonnie was known to the whole school as the Worm, short for the Bookworm, as she could usually be found reading in the corner of the playground, so it was no surprise to Rory to find her in here.
One of the assistants was lifting down a book for her from a high shelf as Bonnie was unable to reach from her wheelchair.
“You look a little lost. Can I help you?” said the woman behind the front desk looking up from a pile of books that she was sorting. Her badge said “Mrs Trinder-Kerr. Librarian. Happy to Help.”
“Er yes, I need some reference books please,” said Rory.
“The reference section is up at the back on the left,” said Mrs Trinder-Kerr pointing to the far corner. “Anything in particular that you’re after?”
“I’m doing a little local history project,” said Rory, trying hard to remain as vague as he could.
“Well, that narrows it down a bit,” said Mrs Trinder-Kerr coming out from behind the desk. “We’ve got a few books on the area. What is it you are trying to find out?”
Rory hesitated. “Well … er … actually … I was wondering what you have on Hotel Grimm?”
Mrs Trinder-Kerr’s helpful face froze momentarily. “We have some information … I don’t often get asked for it,” she added, looking strangely at Rory.
“No, I expect not,” said Rory deciding not to broadcast the reasons for his research.
Without another word and with a great deal of haste Mrs Trinder-Kerr found him what he was looking for. Returning to her desk, she promptly knocked over the pile of books which she had been sorting and glared across the library at Rory as if implying that he had something to do with her sudden clumsiness. Rory was aware that Bonnie O’Donnell had glanced over at him, but he kept his head lowered and settled himself as best he could at a large table. As he did so, he realized to his embarrassment that the seat he’d chosen was right beside a large poster for his Mum’s current exhibition. Rory could hardly look at the title proclaiming “Kitchen Utensils and the Meaning of Life.” The picture showed the piece that he knew Momo to be most excited about; it was a metal sieve, entitled “Metal Sieve.”
“Why can’t she just paint some pictures like proper artists?” his
Grandad had asked during one of their regular cups of tea together.
“It’s contemporary art,” Rory had said, finding himself in the odd position of defending the creative efforts of his mother, which often left him bemused.
“I’m sure your Gran bought her that sieve,” said Grandad. “Does that mean there will be some royalties coming my way?”
“Not sure,” Rory had said. “I think your claim has a few holes in it.” The memory of his awful joke failed to raise a smile as with a mixture of nervousness and curiosity he prepared to leaf through the material Mrs Trinder-Kerr had found for him. The archive took the form of a giant album containing a century’s worth of press cuttings from Aberfintry’s local paper
The Chronicle.
The front of each issue from the past twenty years sported the name of Derek Goodman, the owner and editor, as well as Gracie and Gordon’s dad. He was responsible for the stories about the town, a large proportion of which seemed to be about Hotel Grimm. Prior to that, the name on the articles changed to Hunter Goodman and Sidney Goodman before that.
The Chronicle
had been a family business stretching back through the twentieth century.
As he immersed himself in the archive, Rory found that articles about Hotel Grimm, from as far back as the late 1940s, had a particular flavour to them, leaving no doubt that the paper was no supporter of the establishment.
The most chilling article Rory came across was one which summarized a list of those who had recently met their end at the hotel over the years. Cheerily entitled “Too Many Dead Guests” it provided a short profile on how six unfortunate people had become ex-guests:
Martin Piggory.
Found dead in his pyjamas next to a giant statue of a wolf in the hotel’s hallway. It appeared that the elderly, and rather nervous gentleman had been scared to death while on a search for a midnight glass of milk.
Wilma Yeomans.
An over-curious antique collector who, it was
thought, had stepped over guard rails to investigate an inscription on a suit of armour. The movement had caused its axe-wielding arm to descend, thus rapidly ending her research.
Sir Ivan Clinton.
The pre-pack salad tycoon drowned in Sir Gregory Grimm’s famously giant bath in the hotel’s deluxe suite when his big toe had become stuck in one of the taps, rendering him unable to lean forward to turn the other tap off.
Davina Aitken.
Poisoned while on the premises. The hotel had vigorously denied any connection between their kitchens and the death. Investigations revealed that Aitken was a fungi collector who had wrongly identified, and then eaten, a handful of Aberfintry’s notorious and deadly pink skullcap toadstools.
Peter Pendreich.
A sporting enthusiast died when it seemed that a playful attempt to lasso his bedroom’s chandelier with his dressing-gown cord had ended in a bizarre combination of strangulation and electrocution.
Donald Burnside.
Accidentally shot himself. The phone beside his bed had rung with the alarm call from hotel reception that he had requested. Unfortunately, in his sleepy state, instead of the receiver, he picked up the pistol he always kept on his bedside table.
The hotel had denied any wrongdoing in any of these incidents, describing each as an unfortunate accident, and claiming that it had since taken appropriate action: removing the wolf statue, replacing the bath taps, putting signs up about the dangers of lassos and local fungi, and asking guests to leave firearms in the hotel safe. It remained adamant that these were a series of accidents.
The catalogue of catastrophes was never-ending. Flicking through the archive Rory spotted headlines about a rock fall that had nearly flattened a school picnic, a six-foot long python kept as a pet in the hotel, which had ended up under a guest’s pillow, and
a fire that had resulted in the dramatic rescue of an American guest by a member of staff. As far as he could see, there was not a single positive story about the hotel.
As he worked his way through the album, Rory also found
The Chronicle’s
efforts to counter the negative stories of Hotel Grimm. He came across a picture of the library itself in the article about the unveiling of the statue of Lachlan Stagg. The public event ended months of campaigning to raise funds to pay for the creation of a feature that, the paper said, “would commemorate someone that the town could be proud of in contrast to the unwanted residents of Scrab Hill.”
The fact that Hotel Grimm was considered not just a dangerous but also a downright sinister place increased after the experience of Aberfintry resident, Bella Valentine. She had been employed as a cleaner at the hotel two years previously, and had lasted all of two weeks. Even that short experience had been enough to establish her new career as the official voice on what life was like inside the hotel. Looking through the archive, Rory couldn’t help wondering why Bella would have taken the job in the first place, given the fear and loathing surrounding the hotel. But the more he read, the more he saw that it had been a good career move: she seemed to get a feature in every couple of weeks –
The Chronicle
kept coming up with new angles on her “horrifying experience.” It seemed as though Bella Valentine had had her own rebranding. Every time a photo of her appeared it was accompanied by the caption of “Hotel Grimm Survivor.”
Bella was thorough in her analysis that everything about the hotel was at best bad, and at worst downright evil. It went from the cable car — “The man that runs it is a funny one and I swear that cable car is going to just fall off those wires some day” — moved on to the hotel itself — “I hardly want to think about what hideous things lurk within its walls” — and got personal about Granville Grimm — “the man looms around like some giant brooding ogre.”
“Whatcha reading, Zizz man?” said a voice, interrupting Rory
from Bella Valentine’s account. He looked up to find Max Fletcher, one of Gordon Goodman’s cronies, standing by his table. Rory couldn’t help but lean over the book he was looking at to try and shield its contents from Fletcher. “Er … nothing much … just doing … just doing a local history project.”
“Looks like you want it to be top secret,” said Fletcher, sidling closer to Rory and twisting his head to see more clearly. His eyes narrowed as they flickered around the archive’s pages. As it dawned on him what he was looking at, Fletcher pulled back sharply.
“Local history?” he hissed, lowering his voice and glancing left and right as if checking if anyone was watching them. “They say that fizzy drinks are bad for your health, Zizz Boy…. but it’s your choice of reading material you should be careful about.”
Fletcher turned away and Rory tried to concentrate again on the job in hand. He felt even more self-conscious now and glancing up he saw Max Fletcher and Marnie di Angelo heading out of the door together a few minutes later, looking over at him as they did. Relaxing a little he turned back with a sigh to
The Chronicle
archive.
The only thing Bella Valentine was remotely complimentary about was the kitchen. “I will give you one thing — it is so clean, it is a work of art, although even there I could swear I once caught a glimpse of a rat.”
Her account finished with these chilling words:
There are strange and dangerous creatures within the walls; a poltergeist or some such meddlesome creature. That is the only way to explain the way that books move around in the library from one hour to the next. Worst of all, and the reason why I shall never set foot in the place again, is that something lives and lurks in one of the corridors. It tried to attack me. It got so close that its breath echoed in my ears and its spittle rained on my head. There was a clanking sound from it that was like the devil rattling the gates of heaven trying to get in. Fortunately, I was just too fast for it, otherwise I might never have walked Aberfintry’s streets again.
The photo of Bella that
The Chronicle
used, made you wonder why the mysterious beast hadn’t stopped in its tracks and run in the opposite direction. Bella’s fiercesome scowl and the fact that she probably took up most of any corridor would have made her an alarming sight for even the most discerning monster, Rory reckoned.
