by Raquel Lyon
“Ah, Piper. I’ve been expecting you,” he said, standing up with his hand outstretched.
Piper shook it lightly. “You have?”
“Yes. Yes. Do sit down,” he said, motioning to the large leather chair beside her before resuming his own seat. “As you know, your father and I were great friends...” Piper had never met the grey-haired gentleman before, and knew nothing of any great friendship, but allowed him to continue uninterrupted. “Naturally, you would come to me in his absence. What is it? A spot of DIY? Some fatherly advice? Not sure how much use I’ll be with that, having had no children of my own, but I’m willing to give it a shot.”
“Oh, no. It’s nothing like that,” Piper said, studying the manager’s pockmarked face—clearly the result of some acne-troubled, teenage years—puzzled as to why her father had kept this friend a secret.
“Perhaps you know he came to see me before he went away?”
“Actually, no. How come you knew he was going away when I didn’t? Did he say where he was going? Did he say how long he’d be?”
“My dear girl, calm yourself. No, I did not know. He told me nothing. He merely came to talk to me about his affairs—although I have to say, he was a touch out of character.”
“In what way?”
“He appeared troubled. He wanted to ensure you would be provided for in the event of his death.”
Piper shivered in the warmth of the office. Her father was not dead. She would know if he was. She’d be able to feel it. “H-his death?”
“Yes. Silly, really. The man was... is as strong as an ox, swims two lengths of the pool without taking a breath, you know.” He shook his head. “Haven’t beaten him yet. I swear he must have gills under that beard of his,” he said, tapping the end of his pen on the leather-topped desk between them.
“What did he say... at your meeting?”
“Unfortunately, my role prohibits me from divulging the full details. All I can say is he left a couple of items in our care.”
“Can I see them?”
“Alas, they are locked in a safety deposit box.”
“But you could open it.”
“This may be a small, independent bank, but we pride ourselves on the very best security. Two keys are needed to open each box. The bank possesses only one of them.”
“But he’s my father, and he’s missing.”
“If he had entrusted you with his key, that would be a different matter, but without it, I am afraid there is nothing I can do.”
“But there might be a clue to his whereabouts, or something of value for me in there. The shop isn’t making much money, and I don’t know what to do. That’s why I’m here.”
“Are you not getting by on your monthly allowance?”
“What monthly allowance?”
“The one your father has been paying into your account for some years.”
“You must be mistaken. My father paid me in cash for helping out in the shop. I have no account, and no way to pay the household bills.”
“I believe I am safe in saying that you have no need to worry there. I happen to know the account those expenses are deducted from has a separate income.”
“Really? Where from?”
“Confidentiality, my dear, confidentiality.”
Piper let out a frustrated sigh. “So... this account I’m supposed to have money in... How do I access it?”
“You mean your father never gave you the passbook?”
Her head shook. “No. Weren’t you listening? I know nothing about it.”
“Hmm.” He tapped on a nearby keyboard. “That is very strange. However, it is your account, and legally, you have access to it. Let me see if I can get another book issued. It might take a few days to arrive, but then you should be all set.” With a flourishing press of the enter key, he sat back and smiled. “There. Can’t have you fretting over a small thing like money when you have bigger things to worry about, now can we?” A box on his desk buzzed, and he stood up, clearly indicating their time together was at an end. “I’m sorry. My one o’clock is here. Are you sure I can’t help you out with a leaky pipe or such like?”
“If I spring a leak, I’ll let you know.”
“Yes. Yes. Do that.” He started to open the door but paused. “And Piper...”
“Yes?”
“Your father is a good man. He loves you, and he has always had your best interests at heart. Wherever he is, I know he is thinking of you. He always boasted of how bright you are...” He ran the back of his fingers down the sleeve of her beloved jacket. “Nice hide. Mrs Huckabee is an expert when it comes to the care of such specialist items. You could do worse than pay her a visit.”
Piper left the bank more confused than ever. Admittedly, she’d never shown much interest in how her father spent his free time. She had always been too busy with homework and friends and well... just being a teenager. But she was starting to think she should have paid more attention. There were too many unanswered questions.
During the afternoon, she stared at the same line of her work repeatedly, her mind chewing over the bank manager’s words instead of concocting its own to add to her assignment. Why would her father open an account in her name and never tell her about it? And where was the separate income paying the bills coming from? Was he involved in some kind of criminal activity and laundering the proceeds through her? How would that make him a good man who loved her? Perhaps he’d been caught? No, he couldn’t be in prison; Detective Newton would have told her.
By the time daylight began to fade, Piper’s head was spinning. Unable to concentrate on her studies, she gathered up her books to put them back in her bag and nudged her pen to the floor in the process. It rolled under the counter. She bent down to retrieve it and knocked over the stool with shock as she stood back up.
She wasn’t alone.
Chapter Seven
WHERE HAD HE COME FROM? Piper hadn’t heard the bell jingle. Her brain must be so befuddled it had made her deaf too.
“For goodness’ sake. Quit with the sneaking,” she said, narrowing her eyes at her unwelcome visitor. She had hoped never to see him again and wasn’t in the mood for further interrogation.
Lambert smiled. “I did say I would call.”
“I remember,” she said. “But I told you who sold me the box, so I didn’t realise you were serious.”
“Unfortunately, I have no choice in the matter.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Wherever the box goes, I go. The box is here, therefore I am here.” He gripped the edge of the counter and his eyes flicked to the box on the shelf behind Piper’s head.
What a freak, Piper thought. Everything about him, from the way he was acting to how he was dressed in exactly the same strange clothes as he had been the previous day, made Piper uneasy, especially his creepy eyes. Whoever he was, she wanted to be rid of him. “I’m beginning to think you have an unhealthy attachment to that box.”
“You are correct in your assumption.”
“And you talk weird.”
“Where I come from, your turn of phrase would be seen as unusual.”
“Where is that, exactly?”
“A very long way from here, I fear.”
“Humour me.”
He turned and ran a finger along a nearby display cabinet. “You would not believe me,” he said, weaving a path through the various items of furniture until he disappeared from sight behind a mahogany tallboy.
Piper followed. She usually left customers alone to browse, but she didn’t trust this boy not to fill his pockets with anything worth the cost of a burger. “Why? Are you from Mars or something?” It wouldn’t have surprised her if he’d said yes. There was definitely something alien in those eyes. When she rounded the tallboy, he wasn’t there. Continuing on her way back to the counter, she found him leaning against the display case with a self-assured smile.
“I understand that planet to be uninhabited,” he said.
; “It doesn’t have to be Mars.”
“Do I look as if I hail from another planet?”
“How would I know? People can only guess what aliens look like.”
“It is my assumption,” he said, turning and inclining his head towards the cabinet, “that my home is not as much of a mystery to you as it should be.”
“Oh, believe me, I find everything about you a total mystery,” Piper said, studying him as he squinted through the glass to the items on the shelf below.
“This cabinet, for instance, holds many intriguing items: an incense bowl, a copy of Castalia’s Incantations—”
“That’s my father’s personal collection. I’m afraid nothing in there is for sale.”
“It pleases me to hear that. I am a firm believer that artefacts, such as this impressive hunting knife, should remain as close to their origin as possible.” He bent further to study a group of colourful crystals on the next shelf. “And his collection of geodes is very similar to my own. I harvested every one of them from our lands.”
“It’s just a bunch of rocks. You can buy them anywhere.”
“That may be,” he said, straightening up and walking back to the counter where Piper had resumed her perch on the stool, “but if I am not mistaken, the rocks in a ring such as the one on your left index finger could not be so easily procured.”
Piper withdrew her hand and placed it in her lap, fearful of his scrutiny. The ring had been her mother’s, and despite being abandoned by her, many years ago, Piper thought the ring was pretty. She wasn’t about to let it be stolen from her. “I’d like you to leave now... whatever your name is.”
“Lambert. And yours would be...?”
Piper considered lying, but in a small town, there wasn’t much point. If he wanted to know her name, it wouldn’t take too much asking around to discover it. “Piper.”
“Please forgive my manners, Piper. I should have introduced myself sooner. Being away from society has allowed its formalities to slip my mind.” Once again, his eyes left her face to glance at the box. “But you are correct in saying it is time for me to leave. I thank you for a truly enlightening meeting and shall look forward to our next.”
Piper let out a long breath as the bell rang out loud and clear this time, hoping their next meeting would be a long time off and preferably not at all. A draft tickled the back of her neck. She rubbed it away and turned to look at the box, staring at it for more than a minute before making her decision. Tentatively lifting it from the shelf, she took it over to the cabinet, placed it between a clay goblet and a rather ugly looking statue, and secured the door, satisfied she’d made the right choice. She might not have paid the earth for it, but if he thought he was going to stick it up that tasteless shirt of his when her back was turned, he could think again.
She was about to lock up for the day when the bell rang once more.
“Hello, Piper.”
“Oh. Hi, Beth.”
Beth looked around as she walked. “Cool place,” she said, before stopping at a small table hosting an Art Deco cat figure.
“Thanks. Can I interest you in anything?” Piper asked hopefully.
“Yes. Joining us for dinner,” Beth chirped.
“Dinner?”
Beth bent to look at the cat, alternating her concentration between each one of its eyes in turn. “At the Towers.”
“Oh. Um...”
“I was telling Sophie all about you today, and she’s dying to meet you.” She gave the cat one last stare, shrugged, and straightened up.
“I-I don’t think so,” Piper said.
“Do you have a better offer?”
“It’s very generous of you, but—”
“Nonsense. Besides, I’ve already said you’d come, and you wouldn’t want to make me out to be a liar, would you?”
“Well, no—”
“Good. That’s settled then. Get your glad rags on. I’ll be back in an hour to pick you up,” she added as she left.
Fifty minutes later, Piper stared at her reflection, trying to decide whether the outfit she’d chosen to wear counted as glad rags. Usually a jeans girl, she’d tried to make an effort, but her options were limited. She hoped the layered skirt and tank top were suitable for such a stately venue. After adding her denim jacket and a pair of cowboy boots, she fluffed her hair and pinched her cheeks to bring colour to them, but there was something missing.
In her parent’s room, she lifted the lid to her mother’s jewellery box, knowing exactly what she sought. The green beads brought out the colour of her eyes and the strand was the perfect length to fall just below her medallion.
Closing the lid, she noticed her fingerprints in the layer of dust covering the surface. She hadn’t run a cloth or vacuum around the room in months, but the housework would have to wait. A knock on the door told her that her ride was here.
Chapter Eight
IT DIDN’T TAKE LONG for Beth’s car to navigate the winding country roads on the edge of town and turn onto Lovell Towers’ driveway. Piper had heard all about the old manor house, and had even seen a couple of pictures of it in a batch of local history books her father had acquired one day, but she had never seen it in the flesh. Its high, stone walls and impressive architecture certainly cemented its reputation as the go-to haunted house for many a ghost story shared during girlie-sleepovers.
As they pulled to a stop beside a set of stone steps and got out of the car, Beth turned to Piper and noted her leery surveillance of the structure’s many windows and turreted roofline. “What do you think?” she asked.
“I can understand why people tell spooky stories about this place,” Piper said.
“They’re probably all true,” Beth said, “but there’s no need to be scared.”
Piper followed Beth as she entered through the imposing bulk of the wooden front door without bothering to knock. “I’m not. I don’t believe in things that go bump in the night.”
“Not many people do until they experience something to change their mind, but let me tell you, this house has plenty of bumps. Whistling drafts and creaking woodwork are pretty much a given for a building of this age.”
Piper laughed nervously as she looked around, taking in every part of the vast entrance hall. A large staircase dominated the central space and split halfway up to continue its journey up either side to the first floor. There was a corridor to her left, and another one that led down the right-hand side of the staircase, with a door located at the beginning of the wall. “I thought you were about to tell me it was haunted by a noisy ghost.”
“No. Jo’s pretty quiet,” Beth said dismissively, heading through the door.
“Jo?”
“Sebastian’s grandfather.” Her shoulders fell. “Damn, I thought Sophie would be in here. She must be in the kitchen.”
“Who’s Sebastian?” Piper asked, finding herself in a beautifully decorated living room. Her father would have loved it: everything from the Jacobean coffee table standing next to a Queen Anne armchair to the Ming vase filled with tall stalks of fragrant lilies oozed quality and taste.
“Sophie’s husband. I told you about him, didn’t I?”
“Not his name.”
“Oh. Well, there’s a photo of him on the sideboard over there. He’s quite dishy, if you’re into the blond-and-broody type, and I believe he’s taking time out of his busy schedule to join us for dinner tonight, so you’ll actually get to meet him,” she said, poking her head back around the door and then shouting, “Soph! We’re here!”
“I’m sorry. I’m confused,” Piper said. “We were talking about ghosts and then you suddenly changed the subject and started telling me about your friend’s family.”
“I didn’t change the subject, you did.”
“How?”
Beth poured two measures of dark liquid from a decanter on the sideboard. “You asked about Sebastian.”
“You mentioned his grandfather first.”
“Yes, but that wasn’t a change
of subject,” she said, handing one of the glasses to Piper.
“Thanks,” Piper said, staring at the liquid, trying to decide what it was, “but I’m not following.”
“Sebastian’s grandfather, Jo, is dead. He’s the ghost.”
“Oh. Okay, I get it. You’re having fun with me. I’m sorry I didn’t get the joke.”
“Who’s joking? I can call him if you like—see if he’ll show himself. He might not, though.” She leaned in and talked from the corner of her mouth. “He can be a bit of a grumpy sod about new people.”
Piper was about to say how convenient she thought that to be when their conversation was brought to an abrupt end by the appearance of a woman with flowing auburn hair. “Hi. You must be Piper. I’m Sophie,” the woman said, bringing the savoury aroma of cooking into the room with her. “I hope you’re hungry. It’s not often we have guests to dinner, and I’m afraid I’ve gone a bit overboard with the food.” The aroma reached Piper’s stomach, and it gave an audible rumble. Sophie’s face creased to a smile. “I’ll take that as a yes,” she said.
Piper followed the women’s lead and took a seat on the sofa while her eyes roamed the room and tried to take everything in. They landed on a silver snuff box on the coffee table, and she was contemplating whether it was eighteenth or nineteenth century in style when Beth spoke.
“I didn’t invite you here to appraise the antiques, Piper.”
“Then why did you?” Beth seemed a friendly enough woman, but Piper had no idea why she was so insistent upon getting to know her. She was a nobody, a tragic case in some people’s eyes, but that didn’t mean she needed to be pitied. “Honestly, I’ve been trying to figure that out all the way here.”
“I know what Sophie went through when she lost both of her parents at your age,” Beth said. “I thought you could use another friend. You don’t have to go through this alone.”
“That’s very thoughtful, but I’ve managed so far.”