Anna craned her head back, walking through the foyer. "What did they do with all this space?"
"Raise kids in it." John knocked a wall, "It could've been a school but those kinds of things aren't really in style anymore."
"A hundred years ago, maybe." Anna took another turn in the space. "It's amazing to think someone in my family lived here once."
"I think that every time I come. What would they even do with all this unnecessary space?"
"Throw raging parties?" Anna snorted and John joined in her laughter. "I don't think people realize all the work that goes into something this massive."
"You never know until you see it for yourself." John shrugged, leaning on the wall. "But I guess it's different when you realize your great-grandmother lived here as a guest."
"Your… uncle, something, owned it." Anna pointed at him as she continued pacing the foyer. "That's got to mean something."
"That it's a bloody big responsibility to make sure the historical society doesn't ruin it for the tourists."
"Always a risk with those pesky historians." Anna pulled out a folder to flick through the pages. "But they're the kind of people who preserved all these other details so the good with the bad then."
"As in life."
They were both quiet a moment until Anna stopped on the article about the other Anna Smith's death. "I still can't wrap my head around the idea of my great-grandmother climbing to the top of the house just to toss herself from the highest turret."
"How's that?"
"Mr. Moseley, in the archive, seemed to think it wasn't so cut and dried and, reading the article, there's definitely some animosity from the reporter against her." She shook her head. "They way they portray her… as some kind of demonic hysteric seems a bit unfair."
"To say the least." John came closer, peering at the article as well. "But we can't control the narrative of our own lives after we die."
"No, we can't." Anna sucked the inside of her cheek. "The whole scenario's a bit odd, isn't it?"
"Yes but I think we're looking at different versions of it being odd." John lifted his chin at her as he folded his arms over his chest. "What's got the bee stuck in your bonnet about it?"
"Why not something simpler?" When John frowned his confusion Anna held up the old photograph, "I doubt it's changed much."
"Nope, looks just the same." John pointed up as if to indicate the roof through the layers above them. "Still sloping and dangerous if you decided to task a risk on it without the right conditions."
"Then why jump from that height?"
"Instead of…"
Anna snorted, "As a homicide detective I could name at least six easier ways to kill yourself that don't involve the chance you could regret your decision halfway through."
"Maybe she couldn't get at them." John sighed, shaking his head. "I don't think I've ever felt the kind of desperate grief in my life."
"What kind?"
"The kind that makes someone believe that life truly is so bleak that dropping yourself from the top of a roof is a preferable way to go." John paced a second, letting his arms drop to bury his hands in his pockets. "Or maybe she just slipped and it wasn't suicide at all. It gets wet up there."
"Something about this kind of desperation doesn't exactly invoke images of a terrible accident." Anna scanned the only other information before shaking her head. "Whatever drove her up there, I'd agree with your assessment about desperate grief."
"Then it was her only option." John narrowed his eyes at her, "But that's still not all that's troubling you about it."
"It's…" She huffed out a breath, "I understand abandonment and I understand feeling like someone just left you behind. My mother's a mess and she's failed me more times than I can count. But I don't get that feeling about my great-grandmother."
"The feeling that she just ditched her child?"
Anna nodded, "I'm struggling to understand why she didn't get on the train with her daughter."
"You mean why not board if you put her on yourself?"
Anna looked through the papers, "She had enough time to get my grandmother there, put her physically on the train, even dressed her up before giving her a book of fairy tales and then doesn't get on herself? Why?"
"Maybe there's more to the story."
"There has to be because, a year to the day later, she jumps from the tallest tower and dies." Anna shrugged, "If she knew where she sent my grandmother then why not go and get her?"
"Maybe she couldn't? Same with her choice of life-ending decisions. If it was all she could do for her child then maybe she was giving your grandmother what she thought was her best chance."
"Maybe." Anna shivered, "Something about it still feels wrong. Like I'm missing something critical about the whole enterprise."
"I guess this place is all full of mysteries." John nodded toward the stairs, "Do you want to see the roof? It should be dry enough to be safe and we could solve part of the puzzle today."
"I think I'd like that." Anna tucked the folder away and allowed John to precede her up the stairs.
He grinned at her, "I like how you didn't try to make a comment about whether or not I can manage the stairs."
"I figured if you suggested the endeavor then of course you can." Anna kept pace with him, appreciating the house. "You said you wanted to turn this place into a hotel."
"It'd be a nice way to keep it useful since it's just for show nowadays." John guided them along the corridor to a set of stairs weaving in a tight turn toward the roof. "It might take a bit of wear and tear under the number of footfalls you'll get and it could get harry if we have to battle the historical society for it but we'd make more money with it than we do just having it open for tours and occasional film shooting."
"But you want to make more money from it?" Anna pulled herself to the bannister and tilted her head to look upward. "That's a lot of stairs."
"Walk them enough times and it'll give you a nice ass."
Anna made a face, raising an eyebrow. "Have you been looking at my ass, Mr. Bates?"
"If I said 'yes' would that be a bad thing?" John started up the stairs at a gentle pace, Anna following close behind. "But yes, we want to make money from it."
"Why's that?"
"Because right now the house barely pays for itself. Washing the windows in this house alone is an expensive endeavor." John rounded a turn and their eyes met for a moment. "I know hotels aren't always a safe bet, financially, but people would pay to spend time here."
"Because you think it's a great location?"
"Because I know people want the postcard that reads: I stayed a night where someone died." John paused at another turn, "Maybe that's a bit callous."
"In other situations I might feel a bit bad but since our mutual families both lost out in this I think it's alright." Anna shrugged, almost passing John on the stairs. "Besides, people go and get themselves frightened at haunted hotels. Who wouldn't want to stay a few nights at a nice place where some people died? Drama draws people."
"You watch a lot of television?"
"Enough." Anna paused on the stairs again, allowing John to move past her. "Think about it, who watches anything without drama?"
"Not me." John laughed, "But I'm a sucker for things like that."
"Really?" Anna let a grin come over her face as John snuck a peek back at her. "What would I find in your DVD player?"
"It's more my Netflix playlist but you'd find Secret City, because I'm a huge Anna Torv fan, and you'd also find all the seasons of Call the Midwife."
"Must be a sucker for the BBC."
"I'm British, of course I'm a fan of the BBC." John pulled a key ring from his pocket and unlocked the door at the top of the stairs, pushing it open. "Although I don't spend enough time exploring new things."
"I'm all about word of mouth on those kinds of things." Anna shivered as they entered the attic, sticking to the middle of the corridor. "Unfortunately most of the shows people talk about are crime and cop shows."
"Can't see that being something you'd enjoy."
Anna shuddered, "The killer's usually identified within the first fifteen minutes and since they're never doing anything you could actually do in real life it destroys people's perception of the work I actually do on the day-to-day."
"I could identify with that." John flipped through the keys again and pulled another one out to open a smaller door that Anna suspected would lead to a closet but opened to a smaller set of stairs. "But, then again, I've basically lived my entire life on the dividends of investments made by my family before me."
"Says the man who lost his leg to a jihadist in a sandbox." Anna clung to the bannister as the tight turn of the circling staircase took them farther upward. "Want to explain that to me?"
"It's the story of family duty. My family serves their country and so I did as my father and grandfather before me." John opened the last door at the top and then pushed it open. "I served until I realized that I couldn't quite be trusted when a mine might magnetize to my leg and then blow me up."
"I thought it just made you bullet proof." Anna took John's hand and stepped out into the small space between the retaining wall and the door. "Oh wow."
"Yeah," John whistled next to her, waving an arm toward the expansive landscape before them. "I never mind this view when I have to come up here."
"Are you up here often?"
"Whenever there's a problem with the roof." John tapped his foot against the surface under them. "Which is surprisingly infrequent given the age of the house."
"Master craftsmanship." Anna kept her steps measured and careful as she walked over the roof. "You said your family inherited it from an adopted child?"
"My ancestors, back in the eighteen sixties, adopted three children and had one of their own. One of those adopted children was the inheritor to a title, as a man with a briefcase, a mustache, and a lot of legal documents eventually told them." John took a breath, following her over the roof as Anna tried to match the location with the descriptions from the article. "He, unfortunately, died a short time later without children but left everything to his adopted sibling, the blood child of my relatives."
"And thus you inherited it?"
"That's the long and the short of it."
"What about the title?" Anna stopped, checking the picture against her position on the roof against the photographs from the article and the ones from the police report. "How'd they manage to swing that?"
"My guess is a bit of legal work and some bribery but I wouldn't swear to it one way or another." John shrugged, leaning on the stones to look out at the distance. "However they got it they didn't keep it long."
"Few generations and then they were gone too." Anna pointed over the edge. "That's where she fell."
John leaned just a bit and whistled. "Not a nice place to go."
"That's the thing." Anna showed him the reports, passing them over carefully so the wind that picked up around them did not steal away any of the information. "I study crime scenes for a living. I could tell you how far people should fall if they tripped, if they flung themselves, or if they were pushed. I know the kinds of thoughts people have when choosing those locations because I've talked some people down from those ledges… literally."
"I feel like there's a point to this I'm not going to like." John closed the folder and Anna took it back to tuck carefully into her bag before pointing back to the site.
"This isn't one of those places."
"How so?"
"If someone's going to fling themselves to their death, they usually pick a place where they can land with a swift crunch. No one wants to try and die only to become a vegetable trapped in their own bodies."
"Or horribly maimed." John opened his arms, "Either way, the whole point of the venture is lost."
"Exactly." Anna ticked off on her fingers. "Second, how's she going to get up there?"
"Climb?"
"Give me your hand?" Anna waited as John stepped forward. She wrapped her hand around his and climbed to stand between the jutting stones, holding tightly to his fingers, and then inched a foot forward. "I can barely slip through here."
"I'd rather you come down before you take another slip through here." John helped her back to the surface but did not release her hand. "You think someone pushed her?"
"I think it'd take a lot more than grief to drive her up here. The logistics alone of trying to kill yourself by jumping off here are mad."
"So then, 'Deranged Hysteric Plummets to Her Death' might be a bit more murdery than all that?"
Anna snorted, "I don't know whether to be offended or overjoyed you just used the word 'murdery' in a sentence."
John shrugged, waving the comment away. "It's one of my skills."
"You major in wit at school?"
"Literature actually." John knocked his knuckles against his other leg. "When I found out that I couldn't get through life with footy."
"Not a good player?"
"Not champion stuff but good enough to be spotted until I wrecked my knee in a driving accident."
Anna hissed through her teeth, leaning against the stones. "That's rough."
"It was one of those signs that I should've paid more attention to." John put his arms forward on the stones, looking into the distance. "You know those moments when life literally slaps you in the face to get your attention and somehow you still ignore it?"
"Can't say life's slapped me in the face too many times but I got enough spankings as a child to appreciate them." Anna nudged toward John. "How'd you wreck your knee?"
"My ex-wife drove the car into a tree when we were drinking."
"Was she your ex-wife then?"
"No. Technically we weren't even dating then." John let his fingers tap along his arm. "She was the head of this… gang and-"
"A gang?" Anna tried to hold back a chortle. "Like a girl gang?"
"It was what we called it but I wanted so badly to join that I ignored all the good advice from people smarter than me and chased after them." John hurried to defend himself against Anna's raised eyebrows. "They were older and cooler and they had real leather jackets."
"I don't know how many more clichés I can take."
"I'm ignoring that." John settled, rocking slightly as his weight shifted.
"Alright, tell me what happened next."
"We all got hammered at a pub and Vera, since it was her car, insisted on driving us all to this place she knew." John clicked his teeth, "I never did find out if that place was the tree she plowed us right into."
"I think probably not."
"Anyway. Next thing I know, after some hazy images of flashing lights and people blinding me with white lights, I was up in bed being told that while I would hopefully recover full use of my legs I'd probably never get the range of motion needed to play professionally." John snapped his fingers, "Dreams dashed in an instant."
"Hindsight is always 20/20." Anna trilled her fingers against the stone. "The horrible reality is that we never think of the long term. We always think we'll be young forever."
"There's a story there."
Anna snorted and then sighed, "When I was fifteen I thought my grandmother was ruining my life because she wouldn't let me go to a school dance with a boy. I called her a bitch and stormed up to my room."
"Sounds about like a teenager."
"Little did I know that the boy I was going to go to the dance with got arrested that evening for drug possession." Anna shook her head, pursing her lips. "After he got high and ran his car into my granddad's."
John's hand covered Anna's and she put her other hand over his, their fingers interlacing a bit until he pulled away. "Best get you back to your rental and someplace to stay in town."
"Got any suggestions?" Anna managed her bag and followed John back to the stairs.
"There's a little place I know." John waited for her to go first to lock all the doors on the way down.
When Anna reached the corridor she paused. Her body shivered and her ears pricked at the slightest suggestion of notes floating along the carpeted halls. She took a step toward the noise but jumped as John's hand came down on her shoulder.
"Je- Sorry," Anna put up a hand as John raised his eyebrow at her. "I thought I heard something."
"For someone who claims issues focusing you did a good job there."
"That wasn't focus, that was honed instinct." Anna pointed down the hallway. "Mind if we take a look for a moment?"
"We're not in any hurry."
Anna led the way, John's steady footsteps behind her, and stopped at a door. Craning her head up to study the door, Anna frowned at it before pointing. "What room is this?"
"Bedroom I think, like all the others." John motioned across his body. "There's a guide book at the top of the stairs they give to the guides sometimes to help them know which rooms belonged to whom and what their purpose was."
"Think they'll mind if I look inside?"
"Your chaperoned." John leaned around her to open the door and Anna entered the dark room.
Her fingers worked to find the light switch and then sighed, her frown deepening the lines on her forehead. Pushing her fingers off the door, Anna walked into the room and took a little lap before stopping in front of John again. He shrugged at her and Anna struggled to speak.
"You were a soldier so you understand the gut feeling right?"
"Of course."
"Have you ever…" Anna bit her lip, "Have you ever had the chill down your spine like you walked over someone's grave or that someone walked over yours?"
"More times than I can count." John folded his arms over his chest and leaned against the doorframe. "I've got the sneaking suspicion you're not talking about chasing down a killer or anything right now."
Anna shook her head. "There, in the corridor, it felt like something brushed past me. And it just… I dunno, tugged my hand or something, like it wanted me to be here in this room."
"It's not a very special one." John squinted his eyes and looked all over. "It's in better condition than some but it's definitely one of the smaller lot. A temporary guest room for someone they weren't trying too hard to impress I think."
"It's more than that." Anna drew her fingers over the bedframe, the gaping space where a mattress should be almost a reflection of something else missing. Something that bore weight. "This room is significant to someone."
"Like someone who's dead?"
"Maybe." Anna shook herself, "I'm being stupid."
"It's not stupid." John let his arms drop to push them back into his pockets. "'I've been in too many places where too many things happened to not believe there might be ghosts here. Especially given what's happened here."
"Back to my haunted hotel theory?"
"More…" John pursed his lips and scrunched his face like he was thinking hard for the right words to use. "More like spirits that don't know how to move on or are scared to."
"You believe in ghosts then?"
"I believe there are souls lost here because they don't know where to go or trapped by something they believe is unfinished business."
Anna knocked her knuckles almost absentmindedly against the bedframe. "My grandmother believed in those too. Said there were people out there who got confused when they died and got stuck simply because they were a bit too afraid to risk whatever lay beyond this life."
"A house like this has to have a few ghosts." John pointed to Anna's bag. "I wouldn't be surprised if your great-grandmother was one of them."
"Would you want her to be?"
"I'd want whatever ghost or soul or spirit who decided to make their presence known to me to trust that I'd do all I could to help resolve their business."
"What if it's nefarious?"
John shrugged, "Then trust I'd find a priest to exorcise them."
Anna paced the room again, crossing her arms over her chest to hold in heat that escaped as if something cold shrouded her. "I think it's just unfinished."
"Then maybe we just need to figure out what that business is."
"Maybe."
They did not speak until they were outside the house, John locking the last of the doors before leading them back to his car. Anna waited as he opened the door for her and slid into the seat. "Can I ask an impertinent question?"
"After a discussion about ghosts?"
Anna gave a snort, "I guess we're covering all topics at once aren't we? Going to make us pretty boring to one another in a short while."
"Probably." John took his own seat. "What is it?"
"How'd you manage all the stairs in that place when you leg was acting up earlier at the archive?"
"Honestly?" John started the car and pulled out of the parking space. "Because that bloody door banged into me earlier."
"Really?"
"I didn't want to tell Joseph, because he'd make a fuss about it since he's a good man, but when he hit me with the door it caught my shoulder and the toe of my prosthetic."
"Is your prosthetic that sensitive?"
"No." John shook his head, steering them down the gravel drive and back to the main road after the iron gates closed. "It's a good piece and I can bend and shift like normal but I can't feel anything."
"So the door…"
"Knocked the toe, which put it out of place. It was chafing."
"Ah, chafe." Anna nodded solemnly, "The worst enemies of long distance runners."
"And amputees." John tapped the steering wheel as he guided them back toward the pub. "But it does make for some real fun at Halloween when I can decorate it all up."
"Do you?"
"I was a cyborg last year."
"With the heart of a poet?"
"Of course." John put a hand to his heart, "If you cut us, do we not bleed?"
"It's 'if you prick us, do we not bleed'."
"Pedant."
Anna settled back into her chair, "You forget, I devoured books instead of relying on social interaction as a child."
"There are people in this world who make me want to just lose myself in a book and never face people again."
"The same people puking in your clunker of a car that serves as taxi for the inebriated and unreliable?"
"No, they're fine." John waved at someone on the pavement as they drove through town. "It's more the people I have to deal with who just make life difficult."
"Anyone I know?"
"Not yet and I hope never." John parked outside the pub. "If you want to follow in your car I can take you to the best hotel in the area."
"I do hope that's not a line you're about to use on me about your house."
John laughed, "No, that line is very different."
"Good." Anna got out of the car and climbed into her own, breathing shallowly past the stale, suffocatingly hot air in the space before she could crack the windows and get the aircon going. Her thumb went up and John guided her away from the pub and toward their next destination.
