Cherringham--Ghost of a Chance Read online

  “Freddy,” said Basil, his voice hushed.

  If this was his trick, he was quite an actor.

  “Surprise, surprise,” said Mandy.

  “Bollocks,” said Crispin. “You made it say that!”

  “I did not!”

  “I must have quiet!” said Basil, his eyes darting across to the younger Myrtles. “I insist — there can be no chattering.”

  Sarah looked around the table. Everyone leaning forward, watching the glass intently.

  “Freddy,” said Basil. “We welcome you and thank you for coming to talk to us.”

  “Dear, oh dear,” said Stover.

  Basil ignored him. “May we ask you some questions?”

  The glass shot across to the “Yes”.

  “That is not me,” said Crispin.

  “And it’s not me either,” said Mandy.

  Sarah believed them.

  But then it must be Basil.

  But how?

  “Freddy,” said Basil. “Who made the chandelier fall?”

  The glass crossed the board. Sarah watched it spell out: I DID.

  She heard a gasp from someone at the table.

  “Why?” said Basil.

  Again the glass criss-crossed the letters.

  TO REVEAL THE TRUTH.

  “Oh, I give up!” said Mandy and Sarah watched her push the glass away and sit back in her chair. “This is all stuff and nonsense! You’re just moving the glass Crispin because you want to scare all the bloody guests away so you can knock the hotel down and start again — with you in charge!”

  “That is so not true! And anyway — what do you care about the bloody hotel, you couldn’t wait to leave—”

  “Nonsense,” said Mandy. “This place is my home and I care a damn sight more—”

  “Mandy, Crispin — please, please, remember we have a guest with us.”

  “Guest?” said Mandy.

  “Freddy — god rest his soul,” said Basil. “I implore you, make the circle again, there is much we must ask him.”

  “No way,” said Mandy. “Not with … him.”

  Sarah saw Jack lean forward.

  “Basil,” he said. “Mind if I make a suggestion? Why don’t you and I take the glass?”

  She watched Basil consider this. “Yes, it’s possible,” he said. “Preferable even. But who will speak with Freddy?”

  “I will,” said Sarah, and in the flickering candlelight she saw Jack smile at her.

  Believer or not, she had some questions for Freddy too!

  “Very well,” said Basil. “When you are ready, Jack.”

  Sarah saw Jack place his fingers on the glass. Then when Basil had done likewise, she took a deep breath and asked the first of the questions which she and Jack had rehearsed.

  “Freddy,” she said into thin air. “I have some more questions for you. Who broke the pitcher?”

  There was a pause — then she saw the glass move.

  Jack looked at her; his expression … it isn’t me!

  E-I-S-S.

  She looked at Jack. He hadn’t mentioned Eiss as a suspect. Maybe he’d changed his mind?

  But Jack’s face was blank.

  “Eiss,” she said, and she turned to the shape of Karl Eiss, just visible in the darkness by the camera. “So Mr. Eiss — were you up in the attic room before the Victorian Dinner?”

  “Well, okay,” came Eiss’s cheery voice. “Guilty as charged.”

  “But why?” she said.

  “Gotta confess — I wanted to see how Basil reacted when he wasn’t pulling all the strings. You were great by the way, Basil.”

  “Dear, oh dear,” said Basil.

  “Out of interest,” said Jack, “how did you do it? The fire escape doesn’t go that high.”

  “There’s a little door behind the wardrobe, leads to the servants’ staircase,” came Eiss’s voice. “Paddy told me about it — for fifty quid — isn’t that right Paddy?”

  “Something like that,” said Paddy from the seat next to Sarah.

  “You never told me, Stover,” said Crispin, leaning forward across Sarah to look at him.

  “Or me,” said Lawrence opposite.

  “None of your business,” said Paddy. “Can have my own secrets, can’t I?”

  “Let’s move on, shall we?” said Sarah.

  She waited for the muttering around the table to stop, then, with the slightest of winks to Jack, asked her next question. “Freddy,” she said. “Who appeared in the mist?”

  She watched as the glass shot back and forth across the table. Jack had had a good idea who was responsible for the ghostly apparition the night before. Now to see if he was right …

  She spelt out the letters: “S-T-O-V-E-R. So, Paddy — what do you say?”

  “Fair cop,” he said. “But there’s no laws broken. Nobody hurt.” He put on a smarmy sile, “Just a lark, eh? Like all this nonsense—”

  “Not sure the lady you frightened would agree with you there, Paddy,” said Jack.

  “She got a free dinner last night,” said Paddy with a shrug. “Can’t be bad.”

  As compensation or punishment? thought Sarah.

  “But why did you do it, Paddy?” said Lawrence.

  “Crispin asked me to. Gave me fifty quid, didn’t he.”

  “Oh really?” said Sarah, turning to look at Crispin. “Why?”

  “Keep the bloody ghost theme going. Thought we needed a proper sighting. Bit more dramatic for the guests, you know? Got to do something to keep this place booked and running!”

  “Nonsense,” said Lawrence. “Rubbish! I know why you did it young man — because you want to knock this place down and scaring off the customers is the best way to do it!”

  “That’s not true, Dad!”

  “It is,” said Mandy.

  Sarah looked across at Jack. The séance seemed to be working very nicely indeed.

  “Quiet please,” she said. Then Sarah waited again for all the grumbling to die down. “Freddy, thank you for answering our questions. May we ask a few more?”

  The glass shot across to “Yes” then returned to the centre.

  Freddy was certainly a talkative spirit.

  Or rather … Jack was doing a great job of steering the glass to answers that had everyone at each other’s throats!

  “What is going to happen to the hotel?” said Sarah.

  “Er, best you didn’t ask that, Miss …” said Lawrence. “You see—”

  But the glass started to move.

  “HOTEL … BEING … SOLD …” spelt out Sarah. “Who to?”

  “I-N-T-E-R-G-L-O-B-A-L,” she read.

  “Interglobal,” said Crispin. “Who the hell are they?”

  And before Sarah could ask the question, the glass raced across the table, as if in a hurry to answer the question.

  “M-A-N-D-Y,” read out Crispin aloud, his voice quavering. “Mandy? What does that mean? Dad?”

  “It means, dear boy, that I have decided to sell my share in The Bell to your sister,” said Lawrence.

  “No!” said Crispin, getting to his feet. “But you said you were coming in with me!”

  Sarah watched in surprise as he reached across and swept the Ouija board off the table.

  The glass spun into the air and crashed on the ground.

  The candles scattered and went out.

  *

  And then — in the near darkness — a cold wind seemed to come from nowhere that blew clouds of soot from the fireplace across the table, and smashed open the shutters and the windows too, the glass exploding into the empty space of the room behind them all.

  As the air filled with screams and people scattered, Sarah pushed her chair to one side and dived for the cover of the table, dimly aware of Jack’s arms reaching for her as an icy gale blew through the whole room, the roaring fire extinguished by it as everything went dark.

  16. A Message From the Other Side

  Jack let Sarah go, and then backing away he stood up.
>
  The wind had come in like a roar, killing the candles and the blazing fireplace.

  But now all was quiet.

  He took his cell phone out and put on the light.

  Placing it on the table in front of him, the light shot right up to his face.

  Has to look spooky, he thought.

  Everyone else was in darkness. But no one had tried to scramble out of the room: one by one he watched them getting to their feet, dusting themselves off.

  “Everyone okay?” he said.

  He could see the dark outline of people righting chairs, returning to the table.

  “That … was bloody weird,” Paddy said, pointing out the obvious.

  “Can't we put some damn lights on?” Mandy said.

  But Crispin already started using his cigarette lighter to get a few candles back on.

  Jack saw Lawrence Myrtle wiping his face with a handkerchief. “Good Lord,” he said. “Extraordinary. Was it something I said, do you think?”

  “When the spirit world is offended, you will always feel its power,” said Basil.

  Jack watched as Sarah went over to the shattered windows and closed them, then folded the shutters across too.

  “Not for nothing Cherringham’s known as the windy village,” she said, returning to the table and giving him a knowing nod.

  Calm as ever, thought Jack.

  “That was quite a show, Basil,” said Eiss, tending to his camera. “Wind blew the damned thing right over.”

  “We’re not going to need that any more tonight,” said Jack. “This séance is over — don’t you think, Basil?”

  “I fear so,” said Basil. “When the ring is broken, the connection to the spirit world is lost.”

  “About bloody time too,” said Crispin, heading over to the main light switches. “There’s enough dirty linen been washed here tonight — you satisfied, Brennan?”

  “I certainly am,” said Mandy. “Saves me having to tell you about the hotel.”

  Jack watched Crispin flick the switches and the room filled with harsh electric light.

  Jack looked around: there were still chairs spilled on the floor and there was soot everywhere. Mandy was helping her father to his feet.

  Basil looked like he’d been through an ink-filled car wash.

  Stover stood with his arms folded — doubtless thinking about the mess he was going to have to clear up by morning.

  Sarah seemed to have escaped the clouds of soot — but he could see something was bothering her. She stood, motionless at the side of the table facing the fireplace.

  He followed her gaze, to the gilt mirror.

  Where he could see words written in soot upon the glass. Written carefully, as if a finger had been daubed in the soot, and each letter, slowly, perfectly formed.

  What the …?

  He knew for an absolute fact that nobody had gone over to the fire — and certainly nobody had had the time to write a message.

  “Good Lord,” said Basil, joining him.

  “What the hell?” said Crispin.

  Jack stepped closer to the mirror and read the words out loud.

  “Read the letter.”

  “What does it mean, Basil?” said Lawrence.

  “I’ve no idea,” said Basil.

  Jack turned and faced the others.

  “Well, I think I do,” he said.

  Then he reached inside his jacket pocket, took out the plastic bag that Todd had given him and removed the tattered envelope.

  Jack slipped the letter out of the envelope.

  “My friend Todd found this when he was working on the chandelier. It must have been hidden in the floorboard above.”

  Jack looked at the others.

  A lot of secrets had just exploded in the room.

  Crispin was probably already planning how he was going to stop the sale.

  Ton of legal battles ahead …

  But Jack knew this was important.

  If Freddy existed — he thought — he would want to end the evening this way.

  With the truth.

  *

  “My dearest Emily,” Jack started. “I write in haste! The Colonel has made threats against my life if I ever have contact with you again.”

  “Emily? Emily Allsop?” Lawrence said.

  Jack nodded.

  Sarah looked across at the painting of the original owners on the far wall … Colonel Allsop, his wife — the age difference obvious.

  Jack continued.

  “But I don't care. Our love is stronger than any threats. We shall run away, you and I, and be together forever. Meet me tonight at the stone circle on Mabbs Hill. We shall leave this dreary village of Cherringham. I will wait for you, my sweet Emily!”

  “Someone was planning to run off with the Colonel's wife?” Basil said.

  Sarah already figured out the next part.

  “Not someone, Basil. This letter, is signed … ‘your beloved Freddy’.”

  And then, again the windows blew open — only this time the wind felt warm to Sarah, the breeze gentle.

  Sure I shut those, she thought. Maybe the catch is broken …

  “But the letter? It must mean …” Crispin asked … “Emily never met Freddy, never ran away …?”

  “No. Because I imagine Colonel Allsop intercepted it. Fact, I bet he met Freddy on top of that hill. Knowing how handy the good Colonel was with a gun, I would guess if we did enough excavation up there we’d find Freddy’s body.”

  Another gentle breeze.

  Why gentle? Sarah thought.

  Then … an answer.

  If she believed it.

  If she could believe it …

  The truth had come out. Freddy’s story, the secret of his murder. And the story of his great love.

  A hundred years later.

  She guessed — in ghostly terms — Freddy might be free to leave.

  Wasn’t that the way it worked?

  Or maybe, Sarah thought, looking at Jack who now seemed more magician than detective — Freddy just might want to stick around to see what happens to the old place?

  “It all makes sense,” Lawrence said, standing up.

  “Suzie,” Jack said loudly. “You can open the door now.”

  He turned back to the Myrtles.

  “Don't think Freddy is interested in which one of you gets to run this place. And for that matter …”

  Jack walked over to Sarah.

  “Neither am I.”

  And with a wave at Eiss and his camera, Jack led Sarah out to the hotel lobby, past a wide-eyed Suzie who — though she had not been in the room — would have quite a tale to tell all her friends.

  *

  When Sarah got outside, standing next to her car, she pressed the button to unlock it, and then turned to Jack.

  But she didn’t get in.

  “So tell me, Jack. Just between us. You ‘steered’ that glass to get those answers out. I mean, after you somehow figured out who did what. Right?”

  Jack smiled, then looked away.

  As if he was pondering what answer he would give.

  “Wish I could say that was true …”

  “Jack. Come on! You're not telling me that the ghost of Freddy spelled out all those answers?”

  Jack shook his head.

  “You do know I was brought up a Catholic, right? Big believers in an after-life, angels, demons, and heaven and hell. So back in the day … ghosts were not much of a stretch.”

  “In that day. But now?”

  “So, I’ll tell you this. Could I have possibly had those answers in mind? Or maybe Basil? And did we subconsciously push around that glass …”

  He took a breath. The night had turned chilly. Winter was waiting in the wings.

  “Could be.”

  “Had to be,” Sarah said.

  “And the windows? The shutters blowing open?”

  “It’s a windy night,” said Sarah. “What’s to stop Basil having a friend outside? You heard Stover �
�� fifty quid seems to be the going rate.”

  “Maybe,” said Jack. “How about the message on the mirror? The letter?”

  “Magician’s tricks. The message is already written — the soot just sticks to it.”

  “Okay …” he said.

  But then he leaned a bit closer to Sarah.

  That move … signalling something serious.

  Even made her hold her breath.

  “But I swear — all I did was put my fingers on the glass.”

  “And Freddy did the rest?”

  And Jack laughed at that. “Maybe. Why not? Your land is filled with ghosts, hmm? All those dead kings and queens …”

  Sarah turned to look at the Bell Hotel that — one way or the other — would soon be undergoing a transformation.

  Then back to Jack.

  “And the chandelier crashing?”

  “No sign of any tampering at all, Sarah.” He grinned. “No human tampering, that is … If Freddy wanted the truth out, wanted that letter found — well …”

  “On the other hand — Eiss is quite the pro. Easy enough to lift a floorboard then make it look like it’s not been touched.”

  “True enough,” said Jack. “And he could have forged the letter and put it in the trash. Maybe even in cahoots with Basil? It’s all possible, Sarah …”

  She could see that Jack wasn’t really persuaded.

  “You know, it’s almost late enough … that I could almost believe you. Believe in Freddy.”

  “Almost …”

  And she had to laugh.

  Then she opened the door to her Rav-4.

  “I will have more questions for you, Mr. Brennan. How about dinner this weekend, my place? The kids would love a visit. Usual pasta, I’m afraid …”

  “Sounds perfect, counsellor. And I’ll be ready for your questions … with, as the line goes … a nice chianti.”

  Before she climbed into the car, Sarah paused.

  "Jack, we didn't really solve this mystery — did we? That’s a first.”

  "Back in NYC, oh that happened a lot. And this being unsolved … feels kinda right to me.”

  “We did solve one crime though.”

  “So we did. Colonel Allsop — with the knife — in the attic!”

  They laughed together, and still laughing, Sarah got into her chilly car, started it up … and waved to Jack, standing there.