Ghosts of Averoigne

She was impressed he’d remembered. Then again, it was Jeremy. He remembered everything. Kara took the cup gratefully.

“You’re a fucking rock star.”

“Oh I know,” he smiled.

Logan came up from the opposite hallway. Kara intentionally avoided his gaze as they said their hellos.

“Got coffee for you too bud,” Jeremy said. “Black though. Didn’t know how you like it.” He jerked a thumb toward the dining room. “Milk and sugar in there, if you wanna—”

“Thanks bud,” Logan practically sneered. “I’m all good though.” He grabbed two half-sandwiches anyway. “You both ready?”

Kara and Jeremy nodded.

“Good. Jonathan’s over this way. Let’s go.”

Jonathan was a thin, older man with big hands and a firm grip. They found him at the front end of the hotel, shampooing one of the very large and elaborate Persian rugs in the foyer.

“Nice to meet you,” the man said amiably. He shook hands with all three of them while the whirring machine powered down. “Mr. Radcliffe said you’d be coming around.”

Jonathan reached to his hip, for a large steel ring of about two dozen keys. The keyring alone made him the epitome of any janitor ever, but there were a lot of other details that painted the same picture.

Kara noticed two of the keys were longer and older-looking than all the rest. Skeleton keys, her mind registered. He unhooked the shorter of the two longer keys, and handed it to her.

“This should open any door, to any room,” he said, “on any floor.”. The old man smiled and winked. “Don’t go getting into any trouble now.”

They thanked him, and the guys turned to head off. But Kara wasn’t finished.

“Jonathan, how long have you been here at the Averoigne?”

“Oh wow,” he grinned. The janitor stopped to lean on the big silver machine. “Since… sixty six?” He nodded to himself. “Yes, I think that’s when I started. Summer of nineteen sixty six.”

“So you’ve seen a lot of... I guess I sh

ould say, stuff?”

His kind expression didn’t leave the man’s face entirely, but it definitely went a bit darker. He looked down at them from beneath the rim of a weathered blue baseball cap. “Oh yeah,” he said eventually. “I have.”

Jeremy stepped in, suddenly interested. “Like what?”

The old man sighed. “Well…” He looked around, then pointed down at the carpet. “Like right here for instance. See this spot?”

There was a dark, reddish-brown stain on the rug, right where Jonathan had been shampooing it. He was only about halfway done.

“Yeah?”

“This spot… no matter how much I clean it, it always comes back.”

“You mean you can’t get the stain out?” asked Logan.

“Oh I can get it out,” Jonathan said quickly. There was a measure of pride in the statement. “I can get anything out. It’s just that, well, it always comes back. Every night I shampoo it. The next day it comes back.” He took his cap off and wiped his brow. “I’d leave it alone, but the manager wants it gone. Even temporarily.”

“So that’s it?” asked Logan. “You’ve seen a phantom stain?”

You’re such asshole, thought Kara.

Jonathan only glared at him. There was the hint of a smirk on his face now. Almost a challenge.

“Something happened here,” the janitor said, pointing at the stain. “Right on this spot, a long time ago. And whatever it was?” He raised an eyebrow and shrugged. “The Averoigne remembers.”