A prized director can make a stunner of a movie in the Foreboding Castle Bed and Breakfast because its rooms are somewhat eerie. I meander from one room to the next on the first floor within the castle. Most of the rooms are on the smaller scale: ballroom, conservatory, a second sitting room, dining room, and the library. I feel as if I’m in the game Clue, walking from one room to the next, listening to the wind howl outside the castle’s stone walls, prepared to find a murdered victim upon my travels. Each room is decorated with tacky wallpaper and lacks furniture. They each look as if they are being moved in to, or out, minus the packed cardboard boxes here and there.
I meet Mrs. O’Donnell in the kitchen. She’s a plump, gray-haired Irish woman with somewhat violet-colored eyes. I can’t s
