Three Days in the Amaranth Hotel

Chapter 3: The Ruby Necklace

Upstairs, Agatha Barrow was no longer in her room.

It had only taken her a moment to see that room 200 could not possibly serve her needs. The windows did face the garden and the neighboring mountains as Mr. Briggs advertised, but, no matter how far she craned her neck, there was no view whatsoever of the road winding toward the rest of the world.

So now she walked down the second-floor hall clutching her hat, coat, and bag, scouting out other rooms with possibly favorable views. She already knew the best rooms were occupied, so she'd have to test for unlocked doors or knock for entry and talk her way into a room swap. In her sleep deprivation she didn't consider that 12:30 a.m. might not be the most welcome hour for visitors. She only knew she couldn't rest until she had an acceptable view.

She approached room 205, right across from the elevator. It was a decent option—dead center, so its windows probably wouldn't be blocked by tree branches. She reached toward the doorknob but was stopped by a whispered voice behind her.

"I wouldn't try that one if I was you."

Agatha turned to see a shaggy-haired boy coming toward her. A pair of huge yellow headphones were slung around his neck and plugged into an old-fashioned radio clipped to his pocket. In his other pocket rested a plastic flashlight, a vial filled with clear liquid, and a sheathed hypodermic needle.

"That's Mother's room," the boy whispered. "She's a deep sleeper, but I don't want to risk waking her. I'm not supposed to be up this late, see. I'm John Kilter. What's your name?"

Agatha raised her eyebrows. "Is that a dead snake?"

John looked down at the limp black garden snake in his hand. Then he grinned a grin that was somehow too big for the eleven-year-old face holding it together—as though he had stolen his smile from an adult who didn't have use for it anymore.

"Not yet," he said. "He's just knocked out with one of my formulas for now. I caught him out in the garden just a bit ago. Nighttime can be great for hunting down new specimens. If you're interested, though, I plan to start dissecting tomorrow. You're welcome to drop by the billiard room to watch, if you want."

Agatha grimaced. "Nice of you to offer, but I think I'll pass."

John just shrugged and flashed her another grin as he ducked through the door to the connecting room beside his mother's. Agatha shook her head and continued her quest up to the third floor, where the vantage point would be better anyway.

She jiggled a few doorknobs along the way until she reached the end of the hall, where she was amazed to find the last door unlocked. She crossed the room to two huge panes of glass pointed directly at the parking lot. A window seat stretched under them as though waiting for her. She smiled for the first time in days, kicked off her shoes, and sat on the cushion with her knees pulled up to her chin.

Agatha pressed her forehead against the cold glass, and her eyes almost closed before she remembered that this was not sanctuary. Not until she knew for sure. She forced herself to stay alert and sat watching the road for half an hour before the doorknob behind her turned.

Walter, satisfied with the notes and sketches produced from his time sitting in the laundry basket downstairs, stopped mid-stride in the doorway. He stared at Agatha for four seconds, then backtracked a step to reread the number on the door.

"Hi," he said after reassuring himself.

Agatha turned on the window seat.

"Hi," she said.

Walter stood there a moment longer before closing the door and pulling off his blazer. "So...this is room 301..."

"I know." Agatha was more tired than she'd ever been, and she didn't have the energy for pleasantries. "I need your windows."