Goofing off like a kid, Larry thought. But he sometimes pulled the same gag, especially around Halloween, more to amuse himself than to frighten Jean or Lane. They had come to expect such antics. The old flashlight-on-the-face routine hadn’t scared Lane since she was about two.

It did make Pete look strange and menacing. Larry knew that if he let his mind go with it, he wouldget a shiver. “Mmm-yes?” Pete asked, pitching his voice high. “May I help zee veary travelers?”

“God, it’s hot in here,” Jean whispered.

“A damn oven,” Barbara said.

“Anything back there?” Larry asked, carefully avoiding his friend’s face.

“Only me and zee spirit of zee night clerk, who hung himself many years ago.”

“If we’re going to look around,” Jean said, “why don’t we, and get out of here?”

“I’d like to have a look upstairs,” Larry said.

“Vait. Let me ring for zee bell captain.”

“Oh, the hell with him,” Barbara muttered. “Come on.” She turned around and headed for the stairs. Jean went after her, and Larry followed. Barbara’s legs and the bare part of her back were nearly invisible in the darkness. Her white shorts and blouse, pale blurs, seemed to float above the floor on their own. Jean, in darker clothes, was a faint smudge in front of him.

He heard Pete strike the floor and stride up behind him, sand crunching under his shoes. The flashlight beam flicked across the backs of the women, swung over to the staircase and swept upward, skimming past balusters, tossing their long shadows against the wall. Midway up was a small landing. The remaining stairs rose to the narrow opening of the second-floor corridor.

“You don’t want to go first, do you?” Pete asked in his normal voice as Barbara started to climb.