Characters in 1408

And leaving Celeste Romandeau aside, what about the natural deaths in 1408? The so-called natural deaths?” “How many have there been?”

These were the spook wars, where Michael Enslin had always come off the winner. As for Donald Enslin . . . “My brother was actually eaten by wolves one winter on the Connecticut Turnpike,” he said, then laughed and pushed STOP.

Why, Eugene Rilsby could have bowled his severed head all the way down the front hall of his home, and you wouldn’t have heard a thing!”

A man hanged himself in the closet in 1970—” “Henry Storkin,” Mike said. “That one was probably accidental . . . erotic asphyxia.” “Perhaps.

You know the history of the room, beginning with the suicide of its first occupant.” Mike did. Kevin O’Malley, a sewing machine salesman, had taken his life on October 13, 1910, a leaper who had left a wife and seven children behind.

I was curious, that’s all. I sent Marcel—he’s the concierge on days—out to get them two days ago, when you first appeared with your . . . request.” “It was a demand, not a request.

II The most interesting artifact left in the wake of Michael Enslin’s brief stay (it lasted about seventy minutes) in room 1408 was the eleven minutes of recorded tape in his minicorder, which was charred a …

There was a heating problem on that floor three years ago, and Mr. Neal, the head maintenance engineer at that time, had to go into several of the rooms to check the heating units. 1408 was one of them.

… Mike Enslin was still in the revolving door when he saw Olin, the manager of the Hotel Dolphin, sitting in one of the overstuffed lobby chairs. Mike’s heart sank. Maybe I should have brought the …

Olin smiled a little. “I’d say you’re a bit of a special problem, Mr. Enslin. You and your Mr. Robertson and all your threats.” Mike felt nettled all over again. He had made no threats, unless Robertson himself was a threat.

“That one was probably accidental . . . erotic asphyxia.” “Perhaps. There was also Randolph Hyde, who slit his wrists, and then cut off his genitals for good measure while he was bleeding to death. That one wasn’t erotic asphyxiation.

“What?” “She went blind. Rommie Van Gelder, that was. She was dusting the top of the television, and all at once she began to scream. I asked her what was wrong.

Rufus Dearborn, who was staying that night in room 1414, up near the elevators, was a salesman for the Singer Sewing Machine Company, in town from Texas …

… in the hospital, a man named Olin—the manager of the goddamned hotel, if you please—came and asked Sam Farrell if he could listen to that tape. Farrell said no, he couldn’t; what Olin could do was take himself on out of the agent’s office at a rapid …

“You’re not going to tell me this Veronique’s sister died in the room, are you?” “No, not at all,” Olin said. “She left service here around 1988, suffering from ill health.