In the villa converted into a small guesthouse, the room at the end of the hall was never rented. Alma received the keys to every other door and a thin folder of rules. The owner said family belongings were stored behind the locked door. He mentioned his former wife only when explaining why something was missing from the house. Supposedly, she had left with someone else's money and someone else's husband.
On the first night, an old wall bell rang. The number of the locked room lit up on the panel behind reception. Alma knocked. Nothing. The following evening, it happened again, exactly when she moved the umbrella stand to mop the floor. The owner laughed and said old houses demanded attention. She found it strange that he still refused to call an electrician.
The next morning, while replacing a faded picture frame behind the stand, she found a recess containing a small recorder and a wire from the old call system. The batteries had long since weakened, but the device still worked when plugged into its charger. She did not play it immediately. On the back was the name of the woman people in the house spoke about in whispers. Alma found her number on an old contract in the folder and asked whether she wanted to collect the device.
A neatly dressed woman in a gray scarf arrived, visibly tired of explaining who she was. Her name was Vera. She had been recording a furniture inventory when her husband came home with a proposal to transfer his debt into her name. Their conversation could be heard in the background. She had refused, and after the divorce he began telling guests and acquaintances about her supposed affair. She had hidden the device while packing, expecting to return soon.
Alma offered to send her a copy. Vera wanted the original and a bill for a night's stay. She would remain until she collected her books, she said. When the owner arrived, they met him in the lobby with an inventory and his earlier message saying the room was empty. There was no dramatic exposure before the guests. Vera had already arranged an appointment with a lawyer, and Alma refused to repeat a story she could not verify.
A few weeks later, the owner corrected his claims to the people he had told, accompanied by a written apology. Vera collected her books and the round table where she had once translated novels. Alma stayed to run the guesthouse, now with a clear contract. The electrician discovered that the stand was pressing against an exposed contact in the old bell system. When he finished, the hallway fell quiet. The locked room received a new key, and all that remained inside was the smell of fresh paint.