Mistletoe Mansion (26 page)

This was exciting! I’d have to change my Facebook status to: “Meeting totes real ghostbusters!”

‘Talking of the time,’ said Melissa, ‘I’ve just remembered a very important appointment. Sorry Mike, I’ll have to take a rain check on that game.’ She gave me one of her snowdrop white smiles. ‘I’ll see myself out. Good luck tonight.’

Mr Murphy stared after her. ‘Shame she had to go. Classy bird, that one.’

I sat down at the bar, desperate to quiz him. I didn’t have long to find out more about his true relationship with Walter.

‘Did you ever see her when you visited your uncle?’

He sat down next to me. ‘No, love. The old man and I didn’t hang around here much – we ate out at pubs or walked in the countryside.’

‘You must have been very fond of him.’ I said and wished Walter would leave off the cold air, which was freezing enough to let it snow indoors. He was obviously close and keen to hear every syllable that came out of his nephew’s mouth.

Mr Murphy nodded. ‘I wasn’t expecting to get such a large cut of his estate. But then we were family.’

‘Close, were you?’

‘The son he never had, reckon that’s how he thought of me.’ He shivered and rubbed his arms, as if he were outside. ‘We were always on the phone,’ he said, not catching my eye. ‘My mum and dad have passed on. He hadn’t got any other relatives.’ With a gasp, he jumped up and turned around. ‘I could have sworn someone just poked me…’ Nervously, he scrutinised the room. ‘Look, um, I’d better get going. Let me know how the investigations go. I’ll be on my mobile. I’m travelling back to Manchester this evening.’ He picked up his briefcase and hurried into the hallway, ‘I’ve just got one condition about tonight – Luke must be here. No offence, missy, but know I can trust him. He’s sorted out problem after problem at Mistletoe Mansion and will be able to show the investigators around properly. Aarggh!’ he jumped again before striding to the front door and yanking it open.

Walter! How could you torture your nephew like that? Clearly you and Mr Murphy weren’t as close as he suggested. A cold draught blew around my neck in agreement. So why, oh why, had Mike lied?

Chapter 20

‘What was that?’ said Luke, unlit torch in hand, as he rushed into the lounge. He’d just been playing darts with Jess in the Games Room, along to Terry’s Disco Anthems CD left from the hot tub party, at full blast. I jumped up from the armchair. The three of us were waiting for SpiritShooters to arrive. Concerned some mischievous ghost might again go for me, I brandished my torch like a knife.

‘Only kidding.’ Luke chuckled and collapsed onto the sofa.

‘Very funny,’ I sniffed. Damn. I’d broken my resolution to give him the silent treatment. I still hadn’t forgiven him for upsetting Adam yesterday. My inner toddler wanted to call him some stupid nickname – puke rhymed with Luke. Pukey Luke. Yes, I liked that. Pukey Luke with his stupid, cryptic comments like the one he threw at me yesterday, about not taking things personally. What could that mean?

Determined not to waste anymore of my brain power on him, I sat down and went over Mr Murphy’s visit again, still trying to work out why he’d bigged up his relationship with Walter. I glanced sideways at Luke, in his faded jeans and white shirt. He opened his mouth to speak but at that moment Jess came in. She offered us each a stick of gum. I took one. Pukey Luke declined.

‘Tell me again why Murphy wanted me here,’ he said and ran a hand over his unshaven chin.

‘He trusts you, apparently.’ I said, annoyed at a primeval urge in me to touch that bristly skin. Adam’s face was always as smooth as armpits after a good dose of Veet. ‘Plus you’ve got the key to those locked bedrooms.’

‘I’m surprised Murphy’s happy for them to look through all of Walter’s private stuff.’ He stood up. ‘I’d better go up and unlock them and check there’s at least walking room around all the boxes. Honestly. This is a complete waste of time. The Carmichaels lived here happily for years and never complained of mysterious ghouls, with raspy voices, grabbing them…’ He shook his head at me. ‘Are you sure you didn’t just… I don’t know, trip over Groucho and fall into that cupboard?’

‘No! Anyway, how do you explain that word scratched into the hallway desk?’

‘It could have been there before and no one noticed,’ he said. ‘You don’t need a degree to work that out.’

‘You don’t need a degree to do much, as far as I’m concerned,’ said Jess.

He shrugged. ‘Might get you a well-paid job.’

‘Yeah, so you can spend the rest of your life in debt to the State,’ she replied.

‘Friends of mine, neighbours, a few years older, I watched them all leave uni with a loan, unable to get a job because of the recession. Then I met Adam…’ I shrugged. ‘He agreed with me that it was a waste of time.’

‘And you’re happy with your job, Jess?’ said Luke.

I smiled. ‘Jess was always going to work in a garden centre. As far back as I can remember, you had your own vegetable patch, didn’t you?’

She blushed.

‘Remember when we all took sunflower seeds home to grow in Juniors? Yours grew into giants. My seedlings shrivelled and died.’

‘I want to do a landscaping course one day,’ she said.

‘Sounds sensible,’ said Luke, on his way out of the room. ‘A gardening friend of mine did. I can get details of it if you want.’

Jess and I raised our eyebrows at each other. There was his helpful side again. I was tempted to say something sarcastic when the doorbell rang. I smoothed down my top, which had a sequinned skull on the front – a suitable choice for the imminent spook-chasing evening. What would these SpiritShooters be wearing? A smart, special ghost-repelling uniform made from high tech material that protected them from being possessed? I couldn’t wait to take a look at their equipment. Be careful not to get caught, I said to Walter, in my head. Otherwise you’ll be banished to those Pearly Gates, leaving behind your unfinished business.

Followed by Jess, I went into the hallway and opened the front door. I could have jumped up and down as delicate flakes of snow now tumbled to the ground! Under the porch light stood three people in thick anoraks, carrying rucksacks and sleeping bags. Hitchhikers, perhaps, who’d got lost and were wondering if they could camp in the garden, before a potential blizzard.

‘Sorry, this is private property,’ I gushed. ‘You could try pitching your tents on Harpenden Common.’

The youngish man in smart trousers, raised his eyebrows at the blonde lady in, ooh, her forties. An older man, in creased beige chinos, leant forward and held out his hand.

‘Mike Murphy called us,’ he said. ‘SpiritShooters at your service.’

‘Oh. I thought you’d be wearing… um…’ I stuttered.

The younger man in the suit grinned. ‘Alien-looking protective space suits, or dark glasses like Will Smith in Men In Black?’

I smiled sheepishly.

‘You must be one of the housesitters?’ said the older man.

‘Yes. I’m Kimmy. This is my colleague, Jess.’

‘Age, please?’ he said and got out a notebook. ‘Nationality? Marital Status?’

‘Doug!’ said the woman and shook her head. ‘He’s a retired police officer, in case you hadn’t noticed. I’m Barbara, a medium and psychic.’

Talk about top-to-tail in conservative clothes, with her sensible skirt and shoes. She could have at least spiced things up by carrying a crystal ball or wearing some exotic turban.

‘And this is Rob.’ Doug pointed to the younger man who stepped forward and smiled.

‘I’m a private detective,’ said Rob. ‘More to the point, I’m the team sceptic.’

‘The team sceptic?’ said Luke, coming down the stairs. He beckoned to the three of them to come in. ‘I’m Luke by the way – a friend of the owner.’

The three investigators entered the hallway and put down their rucksacks. I closed the front door and indicated to them to hang their anoraks on the coatstand.

‘Yup, cynical as they come, that’s me,’ said Rob. ‘You won’t catch me talking of spirits stuck in limbo or lost souls tormenting the living. I deal with facts and proof. I’m the voice of reason.’

‘Luke’s our sceptic.’ I said. ‘He thinks all of this is complete nonsense.’

Doug, the retired policeman, licked his pencil. ‘I’ll need dates, times of strange occurrences – witness statements, perhaps fingerprints…’

They picked up their bags and Jess and Luke led our spooky guests into the lounge whilst I headed into the kitchen. Pity I hadn’t had time to bake, I’d been too busy tidying up for the viewing tomorrow. I knew some great Halloween recipes and cupcakes topped with devils and gravestones would have created an awesome atmosphere.

By the time I arrived in the lounge with coffees – okay, I admit to first of all standing by the back patio windows for ten minutes, barely containing my childlike glee at the parachuting snowflakes – Doug was talking intently with Jess and, by the looks of it, had already written several pages of notes. Barbara wandered around the lounge, picking up various ornaments and running her hand along furniture. Rob chatted to Luke, both of them shaking their heads and tutting. Their conversation stopped when I handed them mugs.

‘Kimmy…’ said Rob and stood up. He swaggered up and down the room for a moment before taking a swig of his coffee. ‘Tell me precisely… What have you seen that offers up proof of a ghost?’

I chewed gum for a moment. Don’t let slip about Walter, the White Christmas music or low thuds. I didn’t want him exiled to the edge of eternity or imprisoned in some airless jar or whatever these investigators might do. No, it was the violent spirit that I wanted them to get rid of.

‘On several occasions the house has filled with smoke,’ I said.

‘Luke says you called him over but he never found hard evidence of anything strange. Perhaps it was neighbours, burning rubbish in their garden, on the sly?’

‘In the middle of the night?’

‘Well, they’d need to be discreet as this neighbourhood is in a smoke-free zone,’ said Rob. ‘Or could it have been your breath, as you exhaled? It’s been extremely cold lately…’

‘I’d need a mouth the size of a foghorn to create that much white air.’ I evil-eyed Luke, daring him to make some insulting comment.

‘You also believe it made physical contact, on several occasions?’ Rob raised his eyebrows.

I sat down on one of the sage green armchairs. ‘Yes, in the bedroom. Then, last night, it pushed me into the downstairs cupboard. I’ve got a massive bruise, to prove it.’

Luke’s brow furrowed at that comment, almost as if he was concerned.

A smirk crept over Rob’s face. ‘But what about in the garden? Didn’t you think something had grabbed your foot?’

I glared at Luke. Why should it surprise me that he’d tell Rob about the hose and embarrass me like that?

‘Wasn’t your foot tangled up in garden equipment?’ continued Rob.

‘So?’ I muttered.

‘All I’m saying is, you wouldn’t be the first person to mistake something perfectly earthly and rational, for something supernatural.’

‘How well do you all know Mr Murphy?’ asked Doug.

‘Luke probably knows him best,’ I said.

Luke shrugged, ‘Seems like an okay bloke. Walter liked him.’

‘Terry next door says the uncle and nephew seemed to be quite close at the end,’ I added. ‘But I’m not convinced – I’m surprised Mr Carmichael left him the house.’

‘Why?’ said Luke, with an intent gaze.

‘He never really visited until the last few months. Just seems a bit odd.’

‘Do people know the nephew well around here?’ said Doug. ‘Is there anyone who might hold a grudge and not want the property to sell?’

We all shook our heads.

Jess wiped her nose. ‘As Mr Murphy might have mentioned to you, he lives in Manchester.’

‘What about the agency trying to sell this place for him,’ continued the retired policeman. ‘Perhaps you could give me their number. Could be someone trying to ruin their reputation.’

‘Or,’ said Barbara, in a soft voice, ‘there could be a spirit here, angry and confused, trying to make their voice heard…’ She smiled at me. ‘Think about your senses, dear girls. Since living here, what have you smelt, felt, heard?’

Cold air when Walter was around. His music, that made me feel relaxed and happy… But all of that was my little secret.

‘Scared to death.’ I said, ‘what with lights going out and doors suddenly locking. Plus the smoke… It has a sweet smell.’

‘Sometimes a loud wind blows, but you don’t feel anything with it,’ said Jess. ‘And once Kimmy saw a strange face at the front window.’

‘Probably the moon’s reflection,’ said Rob. ‘Happens all the time.’ He rubbed his hands together and glanced at his colleagues. ‘I don’t think we’ll be here long tonight. Let’s get this show on the road.’

But by the mantelpiece, Barbara had picked up the photo of Walter and Lily holding hands. For the first time I noticed the psychic’s long, painted nails and as for her rings! Each finger bore a different jewel – a silver band punctuated with amethysts, a gold ring bearing a large green gem… Clearly she didn’t read Cut-Above-Couture. Didn’t everyone know, not to mix metals? She gazed at the photo for a few seconds before closing her eyes tight. Everyone stared at her for what seemed like hours, then she finally opened her eyes again.

‘Ready, Doug?’ she said, in her soft voice.

‘Uh huh.’ He skimmed through his notes.

Rob pulled open his rucksack and took out some talcum powder. ‘Show me this desk with the scratch.’

We led him into the hallway. Barbara and Doug followed. Rob ran his finger over the scratched word,
LEAVE
. Then he took a piece of paper from the letter rack and picked up a pen we’d left there. He searched in his pocket for a moment and brought out a ten pence coin, which he placed in the middle of the piece of paper. He drew around it, then sprinkled talc all over the floor and far around the desk.

‘No one tread on the talc or come near this area,’ he said. ‘We’ll see at the end whether the coin has been moved. And if there are footsteps printed in the talc around it – that’ll give us a clue of what we’re dealing with.’

‘How?’ I said.

‘If the person…’ he glanced at Barbara and sighed, ‘… or
being
that’s moved the coin is a man, woman or child.’