"Alright, can you see me?"
Eddie felt his patience growing thin as he stared into the camera that was attached to the ceiling above the elevator doors. From the outside, the camera looked perfectly fine - an inconspicuous little half-orb made of plexiglass under which the actual camera was covering the entire hallway down to the connecting door for the West Wing. At least, that was the theory. But the voice on the other end of his radio gave a pessimistic answer: "Nothing. Still just a white screen."
He sighed. He had assumed that some joker had put up a white sheet or sprayed the camera with paint or anything like that. But nothing was apparent. Maybe a genuine malfunction? "I guess I'll have to disassemble that thing," he announced over the radio.
"I'll tell Charles," the security guy on the other end responded. "But you have to wait till he gives his permission."
"I know," Eddie grumbled and put the radio away. That could take a while, but he could as well prepare for it. The janitor's closet on this floor was just a few yards away. Reginald had forbidden him to put a lock on it, so in theory anyone in this building could access it. He hated that. He was responsible for all the utensils in it, and even if he was glad that someone else cleaned up the messes they made, they should at least leave his stuff alone. Since he wasn't allowed to look it up, the least he could do was check the contents as often as his time allowed.
When he opened the door, a faint chemical smell greeted him. That was unavoidable, thanks to the palette of cleaning helpers, including a few self made mixtures which were vastly more effective than any store brand. Eddie took a quick look around and found everything in its place. The small ladder was there as well, so when security chief Charles gave the Go, he could use it to get to the camera. As soon as he thought that, his radio started sputtering noises. "Eddie, come in!" That was Charles himself.
Eddie took the radio from his belt and answered: "Eddie here!"
"Do not dismantle the camera!" That order was a surprise. Eddie raised his eyebrows. Fortunately the big fellow gave an explanation: "Even if it doesn't work properly, its presence gives our guests a feeling of safety. Removing it would make them feel uncomfortable. So we'll deal with it when they have departed."
Eddie rolled his eyes. Typical! "Understood," he responded and put the radio away again. Absolutely typical! First the resident medic Dr. Holland, had gone on a two-month vacation to visit his home country and his family, and for whom the hotel had not found an adequate replacement for the time being. Nurse Machali was now the only medical personnel on the entire island, and while capable and experienced, she was no doctor and would not be permitted to do anything in a major crisis. But had they told their paying guests about this blatant lack of essential personnel? Hell no! And now they were allowing malfunctioning security cameras to just hang in the corridors, providing a false sense of security.
How much of this hotel is built on lies and illusions? Eddie had pondered about this for some time. Even if there was something wrong here, the demanding clientele that the Southsea Hotel attracted should never know about it. Not about the secret tunnels, not about the absent doctor, and certainly not about surveillance systems that didn't do their job.
He looked at his wristwatch again. 11:17 am. The ceremony was about to end, if it hadn't already. Maybe Saffron would have put his lunch already aside - that was the only upside to having a wedding on this island, getting a taste of the great food that the guests were having here. He turned the radio off and walked downstairs. Whatever troubles his coworkers had, they would have to wait for a bit.
The food at lunch was indeed great. Saffron had secured Eddie a healthy portion, a good variety of dishes that would help keep up his spirits for the rest of the day.
He had no idea how much he was about to need that later.
It began a few hours after lunch. Eddie had taken up most of the time to clean out the filters of the swimming pool in the East Wing. As he finally returned to his basement room where he spent most of the time, he was greeted by two strange men who introduced themselves as private investigators. Without telling him what this was all about, they started asking questions which he answered in a rough and blunt manner. Yes, he had been down here all the time. No, the last time he had been upstairs was before lunch when everyone was at the wedding ceremony. No, he didn't know any of the family. Yes, he was aware of the malfunctioning cameras, but had the order to leave them alone as long as they entertained the wedding guests here.
Is there any way to access the hotel rooms without going through the door?
Eddie hesitated. The older of the two guys obviously noticed, raised an eyebrow and waited for a response. There was no way of keeping it a secret, not from these two. He grabbed his flashlight and led the detectives to the hidden tunnel entrance. Only the younger one crawled inside and climbed the ladders, with Eddie showing him the way to the bridal suite. Eddie himself wasn't allowed to go anywhere near the alcove, and he had to assure the detective that he hadn't been there in a week or so. The dust collecting in those hidden spaces behind the walls should confirm this.
After half an eternity they both crawled back out and were expected by the older detective with the cane. "Well?", he asked his partner.
"Yep," the younger one answered in a neutral, but somewhat triumphant tone. Eddie looked at him, suddenly feeling very nervous. Didn't they believe him? Had he found something that contradicted his version of the story? "Found a lot. Fingerprints, some markings carved into the wood... even a spill of blood in there."
Without warning the older one turned to Eddie. "Mister MacArtair, we need your fingerprints for comparison, if you don't mind."
Eddie nodded hastily. "Sure, whatever you want!" As long as it cleared him from any suspicion, whatever had happened. He frowned when he realised what they had just told him. Blood? What on Earth has happened here today?
The detectives took his fingerprints and then finally left him alone, to his big relief. The guns on their belts had not given him any comfort. He had never been in trouble with the law, had always been a good citizen wherever he lived, but armed law enforcement gave him the feeling they were onto him for something he might have done without even knowing it.
Besides, there was tons of work to do. There always was.
Peace and quiet eluded him even now. The giggling and chatting of little kids suddenly started to echo in the dark corners of the basement. He put away his tools on his workbench, grabbed his flashlight - dang, he was supposed to change the lightbulbs down here! But since nobody was supposed to be down here, it had a low priority to him. But if someone got hurt... He walked slowly in the direction of the children's high-pitched voices and squinched his face. Kids!
He didn't care about kids. He couldn't decide what was worse: their laughter when they broke things, their crying and screaming when they were caught breaking things, or their overall annoyance when they pestered someone with useless questions just to see how far they could go. Maybe it had to do with the fact that children usually had no love for him, either - they were scared of him. He got used to that, though. It was not like he was missing out on anything.
The cone of light brightened his way through the dungeon-like underground of the hotel, looking for anyone who had no business being there. The high voices grew louder as he came nearer. It seemed to be a whole bunch of them. He wondered how he should handle this... Scaring them off, making them weep would surely feel satisfying, but it would also conjure up another stern talk from his bosses about "how to treat guests, especially the little ones". On the other hand, if he didn't put his foot down, those brats would hardly leave him in peace.
He wasn't around the next corner yet, but suddenly the voices grew a lot quieter. A lot of hush-hush came from the next room, the terrified gasping of air and anxious whispering. He caught them, but apparently they had seen the flashlight. He had to act now. With two quick steps he went around the corner, pointed the flashlight into the room and yelled: "Oi! What the hell are you doing here?"
He had caught the entire bunch red-handed. Four or five of them were sitting on the floor, squealing in terror as the light hit them, almost falling over each other in a desperate attempt to get up as quickly as possible. Screams of panic filled the room as their only reaction was to run. They wore fancy clothing for their age - six-year-olds in festive dresses and mini tuxedos as if they were going to a ball. But some of them looked... kind of untidy. Ever so often something silvery blinked on their clothes, and Eddie didn't recognize it at first. But when one of the girls came closer to him, evading his attempt to grab her and just running out of the next doorway, he saw what it was that had bothered him: Little pieces of duct tape were attached all over her.
Only one of the kids, a boy, didn't run. Because he wasn't able to. His legs were wrapped in several layers of tape, with the remaining roll still dangling from it, and he desperately pulled on it to free himself. Eddie shook his head. What on Earth are they doing here? He took another quick step. The boy looked up, his eyes widened, like he was scared to death. Eddie took the duct tape out of his hand and ripped it off his trousers. "Where did you get this?" he barked at the kid. "This is nothing to play around with. You have no business being here!"
Tears ran down the boy's face, and he was so terrified that he couldn't utter a peep. Had Eddie taken a closer look at his pants, he wouldn't have been surprised to see a wet spot on them. He made a small step back, and the kid took the opportunity to run like hell. The screaming and crying that had replaced the joyful giggling from before faded into the darkness.
He looked down at the roll of tape he was still holding. It's mine, no doubt. But where did they find it? He was always careful with his tools and never left anything just lying around. While scratching his beardless chin, he tried to remember where he had last used it. Some foggy memories about a loose shelf in the wine cellar which he provisionally had fixed turned up in his mind. Alright then, let's see if those rascals had taken anything else.
A noise from two rooms behind him caught his attention. Oh, that does it! If one of those kids was still hiding down here, he would give them a piece of his mind. This is no bloody playground! Get outside if you wanna run around like idiots! Quiet, careful steps sounded down the hallway, like someone was trying to sneak and hide. Eddie put up a grim face, ready to scare the living shit out of whoever was still roaming around.
"Oi! What do you think you are doing here?"
That kid he found surprised him. He was pretty tall for a child, also wearing very formal clothing. Eddie smelled a hint of aftershave, but also alcohol on him. And he was sure that six-year-olds wouldn't have so many beard studs in their face. The person before him was holding a mop like he tried to defend himself with it.
"Uhm... my... uh... niece threw up. In the garden." A drop of sweat ran over the guy's forehead. "So I thought I'd... clean up?"
Eddie tilted his head, looking that young man in the face with more than just a hint of scepticism. Who do you think looks more foolish now? You for telling me this load of horse crap, or me because you think I'll buy any of this?
"You think you can clean up a garden with a mop?" He didn't even try to hide his sarcasm.
With a helpless shrug, typical of some city boy who had never really needed to take care of anything, the young man answered: "I am not used to doing this. Just felt responsible." With a hint of guilt on his face, which Eddie didn't believe either, he added: "I shouldn't have twirled her around so much."
If you really twirled her around so much, are you sure that she was the one puking? Eddie snorted and pulled the mop out of that boy's hand. "I'll do something about it." Of course he would - he always did. That was the story of his life. "You can go now." Get lost, kid, and stop bothering me!
Thankfully the wannabe cleaner did as he was told and left without further ado. Eddie sighed and rubbed his forehead. Suddenly he felt great sympathy for Reginald. At least Eddie didn't have to put up with those folks with way too much money and too high expectations on what they called "customer service". He could avoid them if he wanted to, or scare them away. Reginald St. Claire did not have that option.
Finally he remembered where he was headed in the first place. The wine cellar wasn't far away. A few storage rooms and dark corridors further he found the toolbox where he had left it. It was open, but apart from the tape nothing was missing. He tore the used part of the tape from the roll and stored the rest in the toolbox. What were those kids thinking, taping themselves up like this? Hopefully none of them would tell the adults upstairs that a creepy man was chasing and taping up their children down here in the basement. He would never hear the end of that, even though it was a lie.
Somewhere behind a bunch of wine barrels and crates he heard a scratching noise. The lights in this room were functioning properly, though a little dim, but Eddie raised his flashlight and pointed it at the corner from where the noise came. If those are rats or any other vermin, I'm gonna lose it, I swear! When the light was shining across the crates, the noise intensified, and he heard something else, like a muffled groan. He frowned. What the...? That didn't sound like a rat at all.
With his flashlight ready and a hammer in his other hand, in case there was something that needed to be crushed, he approached the crates cautiously, one step at a time, and finally glimpsed around the corner.
"What the fuck?" This time he couldn't hold it back. It burst out of him like an explosion.
In all fairness, this was almost the last thing he had expected. Down on the floor, hidden behind some crates, was a young woman, her fancy dress covered in dust and dirt. She was bound and gagged with tape, with several layers wrapped around her face, wrists and ankles. As the light hit her, she blinked and almost froze in terror until she realised that it was just Eddie standing over her. Then she let out a squirm of relief which hardly made it past her gag.
I guess I know now what the detectives were looking for...