Sherwin drags Dean's duffel up the stairs and over towards Room 237 as the boys trail behind him, listening as the bellman offers a brief history of The Pierpont. While we do learn he refers to the owner most respectfully as "Miss Susan," there's not much else to bother with at the moment, though Sherwin does note he "practically grew up" in the place, as he followed his parents into service at the inn many, many years ago. He escorts the boys to their room, and after a bit of purportedly comical business over the tip with Dean, he leaves them alone so Sam might review their research to date while Dean mocks the dÃ©cor -- specifically what appears to be a 100-year-old wedding dress affixed to one of the walls. "That's normal," Dean scoffs before wondering, "Why the hell would anyone stay here? I'm amazed they kept in business this long." Sam ignores him to review the facts: "Victim number one, Joan Edison, 43 years old, a realtor handling the sale of the hotel, and victim number two was Larry Williams, moving some stuff out to Goodwill." Our Intrepid Heroes quickly notice that the relevant connection between the two involves their respective roles in "shutting the place down," and suppose that someone who doesn't want to leave is using hoodoo to fight back. They quickly absolve Susan of responsibility, as she is, after all, the person who's selling the place. Sherwin briefly falls under Dean's suspicions, but Sam's finely tuned Spidey-sense makes him shake his shaggy mane at the very idea. Or something like that. Dean shrugs his shoulders around and changes the subject to note, "Of course, the more troubling question is why do these people assume we're gay?" Sam, never raising his eyes from his research, blandly offers, "Well, you are kind of butch -- probably think you're overcompensating." And I have no desire to deal with that at all, so let's skip ahead to the next scene, shall we? "Capital idea!" Raoul agrees, for some reason affecting his speech with archaic exclamations. "I'm bored, darling," Raoul sighs by way of response. "What happened to the gore?" What, indeed?
We're treated to a slow-moving, low-angled tracking shot down the second floor's hallway as Sam and Dean snoop around the place. Sam pauses to lift a vase from a table of knick-knacks and spies another five-spot on the interior of the thing, right below the rim. The boys exchange knowing looks for a moment before Dean edges over to a door marked "PRIVATE." Miss Susan answers when he knocks, and both the audience and Our Intrepid Heroes get an eyeful of the antique porcelain dolls occupying every available surface of the room behind her. After a bit of supposedly funny business wherein Dean talks their way into Miss Susan's personal quarters by convincing her that Sam's an antique doll freak, the boys enter and subtly scour the place for clues. Miss Susan notes the dolls are all family heirlooms while Sam wows about the massive and meticulously detailed dollhouse. Soon enough, he fumbles across the burn-victim sailor from the opening sequence, still lying at the foot of the dollhouse's main stairs. "His head got twisted around," Sam hmmms aloud, hoisting the creepy little thing into the air so Dean might get a gander. "What happened to it?"" Sam asks. "Tyler, probably," Miss Susan replies, just as the creepy moppet in question comes a-scampering into the room with, "Mommy! Maggie's being mean!" "Tell her I said to be nice, okay?" Miss Susan instructs with a subtly patronizing roll of her eyes. Sam leaps at the opportunity to pump the kid for information and, in the guise of the doll expert he's supposed to be at the moment, asks Tyler what happened to the burn-victim sailor. Tyler truthfully replies she hasn't the faintest, and denies that either she or Maggie would ever willingly break one of the dolls, as such an action would upset "Grandma Rose." All of the dolls belong to her, you see. "And where's Grandma Rose now?" Dean leads. As Tyler answers, "Up in her room," the camera pans in on an empty-faced brunette doll slouched to its right on one of the shelves before cross-fading to take in a wheelchair-bound ancient slouched in the darkness of the inn's attic, silhouetted against the dying afternoon light streaming in through the dormers at the far side of the room. "I'd really like to talk to Rose about her incredible dolls," Sam's voice begins as the camera continues its silent journey across the attic floor towards the woman in the wheelchair. The shot abruptly snaps back to Miss Susan's hard face as she just as abruptly shuts Sam down with, "No!" Both boys flinch visibly at the sharp response. "I mean," Miss Susan flusters, softening her tone, "I'm afraid that's impossible -- my mother's been very sick, and she's not taking any visitors." The camera then jumps down to poor little Tyler, who looks woebegone at the mention of her beloved grandmother's illness. "IT'S AN ACT!" Raoul shrieks, eager to jump-start any sort of excitement at all. "She's killing them all! Be mindful of the supremely foul wickedness of the preadolescent, boys! THEY'LL STOP AT NOTHING TO GET WHAT THEY WANT, DO YOU HEAR ME?! NOTHING!" I don't think it's working, Raoul. "Eh," Raoul sighs, settling back into his overstuffed armchair. "It was worth a shot."