Wednesday

Chapter 3: A Disturbing Guest

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Wednesday rode the elevator to the top of Iago Tower. He climbed out and began looking around, almost as if he was waiting for someone.

"Hello?" He called.

"You rang?"

Wednesday smiled lightly at the sound of his Uncle Fester's voice. "Thanks for coming on such short notice."

Uncle Fester removed his hat. "For my favorite nephew, I'm always a lurk away."

Wednesday got right to the point. "I need you to get into Willow Hill."

"The last time I did that was for your mother. She wanted me to check on her sister." Fester remembered.

That caught Wednesday's attention. "Aunt Ophelia was in there? When?"

"Oh, years ago, but she'd already flown the coop by the time I was committed. I stuck around for a few weeks. They had a top-notch electroshock therapist, Igor. He ran a gulag in Siberia. He really knew how to rattle the old cerebral cortex."

Fester suddenly shot a bolt of electricity past Wednesday and hit something behind him. Or rather someone. Agnes appeared, her hair all frizzy from the electricity.

"Nobody sneaks up on me, kid." Fester told her. "She with you?"

"This is my stalker. I turned her into an unpaid expendable gopher." Wednesday explained.

Fester nodded understandingly. "I'm a big fan of child labor. A stampede of chupacabras makes less noise than you. Learn to hold your breath, and walk on the seams of the floorboards."

Agnes stared at him. "Thanks for the pro tip..." she then handed Wednesday a large scroll. "I took the liberty of getting you the Willow Hill blueprints."

Wednesday took them from her and showed them to Fester. "I need you to find Lois. Could be a patient, could be a doctor. Just make sure the head shrink, Dr. Fairburn, can't trace you back to me."

Fester didn't seem concerned. "Oh, don't worry. If there's an expert on getting committed to a loony bin, it's me." He chuckled.

...

Fester found himself at the front desk of the Inn at Apple Hollow, preparing to get himself a room.

"I'd like a suite. The biggest you got. One night only." He told the receptionist, handing her his ID.

"Welcome to the Inn at Apple Hollow, Mr. Diabolik. I'll need a credit card." She said.

"I'd rather pay in cash." He put a bag on the counter and took out a few hundreds that had purple ink on them. "Don't worry, that washes off."

...

Several minutes later, the Inn was shaking at rattling as if a stampede of animals was running through it. Guests had gathered in the lobby, confused and annoyed by the disturbance.

The receptionist was quick to call the police. "Hello, is this the police department? Yeah, this is Jennifer Nussbaum at the Inn at Apple Hollow. I need to report a guest..."