Hello, gentle listener, and welcome to Nocturnal Transmissions, the fortnightly podcast that brings you dark tales both old and new, performed by your humble narrator, Kristen Holland.

Oh dear, look at the clock. It's bedtime. Nocturnal transmissions is proud to present Meek and Joyce Pugh's.

The Brass. Bed. I didn't mean to be abrupt.

Ross looks awkward.

She hates looking awkward.

She changes tact.

It's my fault.

I've bitten off more than I can chew or spit out, as my mother would say.

Silently, Asikawa shows Ros through the hotel's huge creaking doors. Though rotten with

woodworm, they're impressive. The name, Rycroft House, chiseled into the doors, splits

in half, opening wide onto a green-worn, musty carpet.

Asikawa nods politely, revealing a wispy bald patch in the middle of his dark hair.

Roz notes that he looks a wreck, even more so than his usual for her endless list of clients who've lost everything they own.

She squares her shoulders, ready for a long morning.

Asakawa gestures Ross through first, then pauses at the entrance.

Ross waits impatiently a moment.

Mr. Asikawa, I'm sorry to press you, but there is another sight I must get to before 12.30 p.m.

Asikawa's head is bowed again. He looks small.

Ros watches his dry fingers try to soothe his tight white knuckles. She wonders if he heard her.

Mr. Asikawa?

Slowly the hotelier lifts his head.

He looks past Ross, eyes glassy, up the stairs.

...