05 - Mistletoe and Murder (7 page)

Clara nodded and sat back in
her chair musing on the problem. Between the greedy Mr Mollinson and the
avaricious William Henry there was motive enough to perpetrate a crime, whether
that was scaring an old lady out of her home, or to her death.

“Clara, you really must solve
this before any harm comes to me.” Miss Sampford suddenly sounded very frail,
her pluck and strength had abruptly drained away.

“Miss Sampford, I shall not
allow any harm to befall you.” Clara swore, turning to the old woman and taking
her hand.

Miss Sampford squeezed her
fingers around Clara’s.

“I have been so scared.” She
said, a tremble in her voice.

“Well, I take no nonsense from
the living or the dead, so no more fears. I shall have this solved before
Christmas is out.”

Miss Sampford smiled.

“I am so jolly glad you came.”

“And what does this do?” Oliver
Bankes picked up a box that appeared to contain a pencil poised on a wire over
a sheet of paper.

“Really Mr Bankes, would you
mind not touching?” Andrews snatched the box from his hands, “It’s a vibration detector.
Self-built. When I wind it up and set it going the paper will slowly scroll
through, the hours are marked on the paper. If something, say footsteps, causes
a vibration near the device the pencil moves and draws on the paper. I can then
see at what time the vibrations were caused and the duration. See, your moving
of the box has caused it to draw here?”

Oliver noted a faint mark on
the paper.

“Do ghosts cause vibrations?”

“That is one of the questions
I am trying to answer. Here, just hold this.” Andrews dumped a large ball of fishing
twine into Oliver’s hands in the vain hope this might stop him from touching
anything else.

“What about the flour we
sprinkled on the back stairs?”

“To detect footprints. The
servants have been instructed to use the main stairs; therefore any footprints
that appear in the flour are clearly supernatural.”

“Or made by an intruder?”

Andrews gave a grumpy sigh.

“That too.” He conceded.

He stretched the fishing twine
across the threshold of the open library door.

“Is that to trip a ghost?” Oliver
asked.

“No, Mr Bankes, merely to
demonstrate if any physical being has entered the room.” Andrews said with
tetchy patience, “Now, if you would just turn off the wall lamps I would like
to observe the hallway in darkness.”

Oliver obeyed and the corridor
went pitch black. There was silence. As Oliver’s eyes adjusted to the dim light
he slowly made out the doorways along either side of the hall and the thin bars
of light creeping from under them.

“Interesting isn’t it Mr
Bankes? With all the doors closed the hall is almost without light and would be
challenging to negotiate.” Andrews lit a bull’s-eye lantern he had carried
upstairs and shone its bright beam over the walls, “I look for cracks in the
walls which might allow sound to travel from next door. Or any other natural
means for the phenomena.”

Andrews started up the hall.
Oliver crept behind him.

“Have you ever taken a
photograph of a ghost?” Oliver said, reaching out one hand to feel the wall and
keep his balance.

“No. I don’t think it is
possible.” Andrews snapped, he was shining the lantern at the door to the back
stairs.

“I brought my camera to try
and take a picture of the ghost.” Oliver replied mildly.

Andrews paused.

“You have a camera?”

“Yes.”

“A good one?”

“I am a photographer by
profession.” Oliver chuckled.

Andrews turned slowly,
blinding Oliver with lamplight.

“Could we rig your camera to
go off when someone walked into one of my wires?”

Oliver gave it some thought.

“Probably.”

Andrews shut down the lamp and
the world fell into darkness. Then he snapped on a wall lamp and Oliver blinked
furiously as he tried to restore his vision.

“Let’s try it. Fetch your
camera. If, as your friend Miss Fitzgerald insists, this ghost is of flesh and
blood, why don’t we set a trap?”

It was almost midnight by the
time Clara went up to bed. Miss Sampford had gone a little ahead of her, after
much reminiscing about her suffrage days. Clara had gone to check on Tommy
before mounting the stairs. She was confronted in the second floor corridor by
a web of wires and contraptions. She stared at it all for a moment before
moving a step forward and causing a bell to ring. Oliver and Andrews both
appeared from their rooms in an instant.

“Do be careful Miss
Fitzgerald!” Andrews rebuked Clara, “I have already had to tell Miss Sampford
about ringing my bell unnecessarily.”

“What is all this?” Clara
gestured to Andrews’ gadgets.

“Tests for the ghost.” Oliver
said calmly, coming forward into the hall, “Here, I’ll show you the safe
passage through.”

He helped Clara to avoid setting
off anymore wires in the approach to her room. She felt as though she was
performing some strange dance as she tiptoed around small boxes, dodged
tripwires and squeezed around Oliver’s camera. When she reached the door of her
room she looked back at the maze she had just negotiated.

“I can only hope our ghost is
light on his or her feet, else we will all be disturbed by the commotion.”

“I would expect such cynicism
off a sceptic.” Andrews snorted, “How many ghosts have you encountered before,
may I ask?”

“I may safely say, none.”

“Precisely, so do not impugn
my methods. I have been doing this for twenty years and I have seen things that
would have you screaming for your mother.”

“Really?” Clara said archly
raising one eyebrow, “I am not inclined towards screaming.”

“Maybe after tonight you will
be.” Andrews said firmly.

Clara merely smiled.

“We shall see. Good night all,
the witching hour is nearly upon us and I would not wish to deter our ghost by
staying up too late.” Clara gave a nod to Oliver and then entered her bedroom.

There was a fire crackling in
the grate and a hot water bottle in the bed. Annie was sitting in her dressing
gown on a stool before the fire, a Bible in one hand and a large spoon in the
other.

“The Bible I can understand.”
Clara said as she flopped down onto the bed, “But the spoon?”

“It’s silver, biggest bit of
silver Mrs James had. I promised on my life I would bring it back safe in the
morning. You ward off all manner of supernatural evils with silver, it’s
well-known.” Annie looked at the spoon she held poised upright in her hand,
“Actually it’s silver plated, but I think that still counts.”

“Are you anticipating the
ghost coming after us in our beds?” Clara asked as seriously as she could
manage, the image of Annie brandishing a silver spoon with such a determined
look on her face was almost too much to bear.

“I ain’t taking any chances.”
Annie said staunchly.

“And do you intend to sit on
that stool all night?”

“No.” Annie reluctantly
admitted, “I was just waiting for you.”

“Go to bed now Annie, I’ll
guard the door.” Clara assured her, “And don’t be afraid of ghosts, all of this
can be explained by some purely natural cause.”

“Yes, but Flo told me about
the grave the workers came across at the bottom of the garden!”

“I know, but that is just a
rumour. Anyway, as a good Christian you should be comforted by the knowledge
that spirits don’t remain forever stuck in their graves, but go up to Heaven or
down to Hell, depending on their moral outlook. So there can’t possibly be such
a thing as ghosts.”

The spoon sagged in Annie’s
hand.

“That is true.” She said
thoughtfully, “Reverend Bates says the spirit departs within the first hour of
death.”

“Well, there you go.”

“But then why do people say
they have seen ghosts?”

“Oh, for lots of reasons.”
Clara shrugged, “For attention, for mischief or just because they have mistaken
something natural for a ghost.”

Annie considered this a while
longer.

“All right then, I’ll go to
bed. But shout if you need anything.”

“I will indeed.”

Annie went off to the dressing
room and lightly pulled the door to. Clara rested a moment then rose and
dragged off her clothes, sleep already summoning her. She drew on a nightgown,
turned off the light and slipped under the bed covers, resting her feet on the
warm stone of the hot water bottle. It was not long before she had drifted off.

It must have been around two
o’clock she heard a bell ring distantly. It was too soft a sound to truly rouse
her from sleep, but then there was a crash, a burst of light and a loud thud. Clara
sprang from her bed, just as Annie came racing through from the dressing room.

“What is it?” The maid cried.

“Go grab your spoon.” Clara
said in jest and Annie raced off.

Clara rolled her eyes,
reprimanding herself for being so flippant. Then she grabbed her dressing gown
and hurried out into the hall. She found Oliver leaning over the prone figure
of Elijah Sampford, while Miss Sampford peered out from her doorway. Mr Andrews
was looking even grumpier than normal, having had to fight his way past Oliver’s
camera which had fallen in front of his door. Clara stared around the hallway;
there was no sign of a ghost.

“What happened?” She came up
behind Oliver.

“Mr Sampford set off
everything!” Andrews yelled, pointing a finger at Elijah on the floor.

“I thought I heard a bell.”
Elijah groaned, rubbing his head, his feet were still tangled in fishing wire,
“I came out to see what it was and I stumbled in the dark, then there was this
flash…”

“He set off my camera.” Oliver
explained, “Unfortunately he also fell over it and smashed the glass plate.”

“Why didn’t you stay in your
room as instructed?” Andrews cried out in frustration.

“I heard a bell.” Elijah
repeated weakly.

“Actually, I heard a bell
too.” Clara intervened.

Andrews was distracted from
his tirade.

“Roughly Miss Fitzgerald,
which direction did the sound come from? To the left of your room or to the
right?” He asked.

Clara had to think about this
as the noise had been barely noticeable and she would have discarded it for a
dream, had Elijah not heard it also.

“I suppose, it seemed to come
from the left of my room.”

“Would you concur with that Mr
Sampford?”

Elijah had sat up and was in
the process of untangling his slippers from the fishing line.

“Yes, I think that is fair to
say.” He looked up.

“I set a bell by the back
stairs.” Andrews spryly leapt over Elijah and headed for the door at the end of
the corridor.

He pulled open the door and
peered onto the staircase.

“Footprints!”

Clara hurried to join him,
followed by Oliver.

“So we have had a living intruder!”
Clara declared.

“Not necessarily Miss
Fitzgerald! Your ignorance shows yet again!” Andrews was most gleeful, “It is a
known fact that ghosts can leave footprints! Look how they seem to begin just
here, as if the spirit came from downstairs. Yet we know everyone was
upstairs!”

“But you can’t deny a person
could have made these prints just as easily.” Clara argued.

“And how did they get in?”
Andrews snapped back.

“I haven’t determined that
yet.”

“You are clutching at straws,
Miss Fitzgerald, just because you refuse to believe in ghosts!”

“And you refuse to accept what
is before your eyes. Living people make footprints and ring bells!”

“Then why did Mr Sampford not
catch this living ghost?” Andrews demanded.

“Who knows how long it took
him to climb out of his bed, don a dressing gown and dash out here. A living
intruder would very likely have bolted as soon as they heard the bell. For that
matter, why did he not see a spirit, if that is what caused the noise? Surely a
spectre would not be perturbed at the sound of a bell?”

“Actually,” Elijah broke into
the argument, his grin slowly returning even if his head did pound, “I think I
did see something.”

“Why didn’t you say before?”
Andrews jumped back towards the lad, “What did you see?”

“Well the hall was rather dark
and I hadn’t switched on any lights, but in the moment I triggered the camera
and the flash went off, I was looking to my left and in the flare of light I
thought I saw a cloaked figure.”

“Which then vanished!” Andrews
declared triumphantly.

“Or ran up the stairs.” Clara
replied.

“Then why don’t we interview
the servants and see if any of them were prowling about?” Andrews was quite
belligerent by now, “But first I want Mr Bankes to take a photograph of those
footprints.”

“At least on that I concur,
they are evidence.”

Andrews gave Clara a scowl.
Twenty minutes later the pair had tramped up to the attic and disturbed the
servants from their slumber. Miss Sampford was not pleased about the matter as
she didn’t need her cook or maids further spooked. But Andrews had insisted and
Clara had to agree; the sooner it was clarified that none of the servants had
gone downstairs, the sooner they could get on with looking for the real
criminal.

Around half past two in the
morning Mrs James and the two maids were all gathered into Mr Humphry’s room
for an interview. Mr Humphry happened to have the biggest sleeping quarters and
it seemed appropriate, as he was the head of the servants, that it should be
his room in which the matter was dealt with. Clara started the conversation.

“There has been quite a
commotion downstairs. Now, we just want to know if anyone has been past the
second floor using the back stairs in the last few hours.”

“Is Miss Sampford all right?”
Mrs James asked instantly.

“She is fine. Mr Sampford
heard something and tripped over a camera when investigating.” Clara avoided
details.

“Heard something?” Mrs James
went pale, “The ghost?”

“If Mr Sampford had not
smashed the camera we might have been able to tell.” Andrews said gruffly,
“Now, can you answer the question?”

“I haven’t left my bed.” Mrs
James assured them, “Does Mr Sampford need anything? Is he hurt?”

“Only his pride.” Andrews
grumbled, “What about you?”

He pointed a finger at Flo.

“I never leave my room at
night, just in case.” She said immediately.

“And you?” The pointing finger
turned on Jane.

The girl, a little younger
than Flo, was trembling slightly.

“If someone went downstairs,”
She said in a quavering voice, “Would they be in a lot of trouble?”