Group 2's Story

“Welcome to the Emerald Mansion! It is our pleasure to have you here in our spacious and rustic hotel. I will be your host for the weekend and I hope that you all have a wonderful stay.” I had been preparing those lines all morning. Four guests were booked to stay for the weekend. When the reservations were made the week previously, I found it odd. No one had come to stay here for years.

I tried to hide my surprise, but I couldn’t help but bite my nails nervously, and wonder why they chose the Emerald Mansion. Perhaps they hadn’t heard the rumours of what happened to our last guests. None of which were true, of course. Our four guests were not coming together as a group. It seemed each was staying of their own accord and for their own reasons. Coincidentally.

Luke Hunter and Nick Martin appeared to be in their late twenties to mid - thirties, while Mr. Jones felt he needed to tell me he was 52, easily capable of being the father of our youngest guest, Ted. Ted arrived with his rucksack that rattled on his back and I don’t think he ever took it off for the duration of his stay.

We do things differently at Emerald Mansion. I like to sit down with my guests at dinner, and get to know them. It’s lonely living in such an enormous building. We recently renovated the place. It looks remodelled, like an entirely new hotel, but still, there is a lot of space when it is just me and the cook.

I used to think it was the mansion that was strange, with its green walls and red carpet, and all of the paintings that hung along the corridors. This hotel tells stories and I began to realise it wasn’t Emerald Mansion that was odd - it was the guests. Admittedly, Mr. Jones scared me. His black eyes and pale white skin were shadowed by his brown hat. I think he wore the hat to hide the medium sized scar that ran from the under his left eye to his mouth. When I asked him what kind of work he did, he informed me that he was retired after spending time in the war. “I was a soldier and suffered much trauma which is why I always carry this with me” taking his penknife from his pocket. “It makes me feel safe” he said. I was eager to move on and with a weak smile, I turned to Nick, “You’re big and fit, I bet you have a very active Job!”
“Nick has the coolest job!! He’s a detective!” shouted Ted. The other three threw him a dangerous stare as if to tell him to keep his mouth shut. “It’s more a hobby. Nothing professional” Nick interrupted. Something about the way he looked at me, I didn’t believe it was a hobby. He was here for a reason.

As much as I wanted to get to know my guests, they were curious about me, too. Why was a young man like me running an entire hotel by myself? What did I do in my free time? I’m a private person and it’s not often I get asked so many questions. I prefer being inside with a good book, but sometimes at night I’ll go outside and look at the stars. I don’t have many friends. I irritate people, apparently. When I was a young boy one of my class mates used to wish my death in front of me. He was fed up because I played my music too loud. I was honest with my guests, I wanted them to pity me because the rumours about this place made people hate me. I didn’t tell them the rumours, of course. Why should I? I didn’t need them to think I welcome people into my mansion just to kill them.

I became paranoid after our first dinner together. I grew to like Ted because I thought he was young and innocent but he owned two pairs of glasses and every time I saw him he was wearing a different pair. I think he was trying to confuse me. That night before bed I turned off all the lights but I saw outside my window the beam from a flashlight moving across the grounds. Someone was out there. And in the morning when I awoke the lamp near the staircase was on. I decided not to question anyone, they were my guests after all. Instead I prepared breakfast and said “I hope you slept well.” To which they all replied with a nod and a big smile. Luke’s black hair, which had obviously been dyed was a mess of curls. Their smiles were lies. He looked like he hadn’t slept at all. Later, when I went out to pick flowers - on the wall, freshly sprayed, were the words “MURDERER” and beneath them lay a toy skeleton. Luke, so kindly with his muscular hands helped me scrub the walls. At first he seemed so serious but I got to see that perhaps he was thoughtful after all. We made light conversation and when a stray dog came by sniffing the bushes, Luke became upset. “Is everything ok?” I asked him. Not expecting his response, his sadness turned to rage, “Someone ‘accidently’ killed my dog, who I loved because I had him since I was thirteen.”
“I’m sorry … I don’t know what to say … maybe you could talk to me about your dog, what did he look like?” I asked.
“He was a Labrador, a silvery brown colour. You couldn’t mistake him for any other dog” he said with a sad smile. I began to sweat. I had hit a dog like that with my car just a few months ago. Surely it wasn’t his.
“Are you okay, you seem worried” Luke remarked.
“Yes. Yes, just sorry to hear about your dog.”

I like to think of myself as a tranquil kind of guy. Not everyone likes that about me, it’s irritating, you see. Even when I lose at things I don’t get upset or angry or at least I hide that I do. Recently there was a video games competition and I played terribly. I was so angry when I lost against my opponent. He didn’t even name himself. I think that’s what annoyed me most! Putting the afternoons’ worries out of my mind, I made my way back to the giant entrance at Emerald Mansion. I had been out all day scrubbing the graffiti off the walls and it was time I got back to looking after my guests. When I arrived back it appeared the four men had certainly made themselves at home and my previous worries returned. Perhaps they had heard the rumours. Nick was scurrying around the place with a magnifying glass and a pipe in his mouth as if this place was some sort of crime scene! I had to say something! “Are you looking for something?” I queried, with a laugh to hide my suspicion. “You startled us! We’re just playing a game. A bit of fun is all,” said Nick.
“I’ll join in then. Perhaps turn on some music?” I replied.
“NO! I mean, please. I’d prefer if you didn’t. I don’t like loud music,” exclaimed Ted.
“I didn’t realise. I won’t play music then. It’s funny because you remind me of a boy I knew when I was younger,” I said.
“I bet he didn’t like you!” snapped Ted.
“No … he didn’t. But how did you know?” I questioned.
“Oh … em … I just meant if he didn’t like loud music and … you played it?” he mumbled.
“Right, of course.”

I looked at my guests as they all stared back at me. And then I realised. ‘J’ for Mr. Jones, the videogame master. Nick, the detective. A real detective, investigating the rumours about Emerald Mansion. Ted with his rucksack, carrying the rattling spray cans. He reminded me of the boy who wished his death on me when I was younger, because he really was the boy who hated loud music. And Luke, who I mistook for his friendliness. He must have known I was the one who killed his dog months before. I like to get to know my guests but it turned out they knew me all along. Rumours said that the guests became victims of the owner at Emerald mansion. The rumours were wrong.

****

A young man of medium height, with glasses and white skin was found dead at the entrance of Emerald Mansion. He was found wearing a polo shirt and dark blue jeans. His blonde hair and blue eyes revealed his identity as the owner of the Mansion. Beside him lay a wallet, a toy skeleton, a flashlight and an iPhone 7. There were no fingerprints found on any of them.  When people were asked about any guests staying at Emerald Mansion, they all had the same answer. No one had come to stay there for years. The case was remained open but it was soon forgotten as they locals were happy the rumours died with the man who looked after the mansion. Six weeks later, the place had been put up for sale and was bought. It was re-opened and a success, with its four new owners – Ted, Mr. Jones, Luke Hunter and Nick Martin.