Ghostly Manners

by K. E. O'Connor

  “Okay, but I still don’t understand why any of this matters.”

  “There is a stipulation in Beatrice’s will regarding the cause of her death,” said Douglas. “It would seem the old girl was a little more paranoid than she needed to be. There is a caveat in her will stating that, if she died unnaturally, her fortune went to a number of animal charities.”

  I raised my eyebrows. “You mean, if Beatrice was killed for her money, you wouldn’t get anything?”

  “Exactly that.” Douglas shrugged. “I believe she got the idea into her head that someone was out to get her. That her money was more important to us than her wellbeing. Can you imagine such a thing?”

  I could. It was easy to imagine Douglas conniving with someone to end Beatrice’s life so he could get his grubby fingers on her money and no doubt squander it as quickly as possible. “So you actually wanted Beatrice to stay alive and not die?”

  “Quite the contrary,” said Douglas. “The sooner she died the better, as far as I was concerned. It meant I could get my hands on her money and begin to enjoy my life, rather than being beholden to my idiot relatives.”

  “And I’m sure it’s beneath you to go out and earn your own money?”

  Douglas snorted a laugh. “The aristocracy do not work.”

  I shook my head. Douglas was not aristocracy. “Are you saying you did harm Beatrice to get her money?”

  “I had nothing to do with her death,” said Douglas. “But if your prying uncovers that somebody else did kill her, that would mean my fortune would be taken away and given to the three-legged, one-eyed mutts in the animal shelter. That is unacceptable.”

  I couldn’t help but smile. It sounded like the perfect way to share out Beatrice’s wealth, especially if it meant Douglas didn’t get anything.

  “So, a word of advice.” Douglas reached forward and squeezed my shoulder. “Stop prying into things that aren’t your concern. Beatrice is dead; she is in the ground, rotting away quite happily. Her inheritance has been given to the people who deserve it, and that is an end to the matter. Stop looking for problems where there aren’t any, especially when your meddling could impact negatively on my fortune. Do we understand each other?”

  I tried to shake his hand from my shoulder but he held on, my flesh protesting underneath his fingers. “Surely you would want Beatrice’s last requests carried out properly?”

  “Not at my expense, I wouldn’t,” said Douglas. “Leave this alone.”

  Icy tendrils snaked over my flesh, and I saw Douglas shudder. It seemed we were no longer alone, and for that, I was grateful.

  The lights in the hallway blinked out, and I heard Douglas yelp in the darkness and let go of my shoulder. When the lights flicked back on, Douglas was several feet away from me, rubbing the back of his head.

  “What on earth just happened?” He glared at me. “Did you strike me?”

  “I was nowhere near you, as you can see,” I said. “The lights went out, and I stayed here. What happened to you?”

  “It felt as if somebody dumped a bucket of iced water over me and then thumped me in the back of the head with their fist.”

  I spotted the vague outline of Beatrice next to Douglas. Her actions would have taken most of her energy, but I was pleased she’d come to my rescue. Douglas was a sleaze, and for a few seconds, I’d been worried.

  “There’s nobody else in the hallway,” I said to him. “You must have made a mistake.”

  Douglas looked around him and returned to glaring at me. “Whatever happened, I’m holding you responsible.” He pointed a shaking finger at me. “Don’t forget what I’ve told you. Keep your nose out of family business.” Another few seconds of glaring, and he turned and stomped down the hall.

  “Thanks for that, Beatrice,” I whispered. “Douglas isn't a nice guy.”

  Her vague, wispy outline shimmered, and I thought I spotted her nodding her head.

  Was Douglas mean enough to plot Beatrice’s murder and make it look like a natural death? Was he so mean he would kill a family member to get hold of her money?

  From his behavior towards me, I figured he might.

  Chapter 9

  The next day, I had breakfast with only Flipper for company, and spent a couple of hours continuing with the filing Lord Galbraith had left me.

  I was just thinking about taking a break when the study door opened and Lord Galbraith walked through. He pulled up short and stared at me as if he’d never seen me before in his life.

  “Miss Shadow! How are things going?” He strode over to the desk and peered at the paperwork in front of me.

  “I’ve been creating your new filing system, Lord Galbraith,” I said. “I wanted to get a head start before we got to work on any dictation you may have for me.”

  “Yes, my apologies for being absent yesterday. I had a bit of business in town and was then called away to an old drinking buddy at an estate a few miles away. I stayed the night, having gotten a bit tipsy on his homemade sloe gin.” He pulled out a chair by the desk and slumped into it. “Actually, my head is still a bit soft after that encounter. I often forget I am not the young man I used to be. Alcohol has a rather nasty effect on me these days.”

  A fondness for alcohol seemed to run in the family. “Is there anything in particular you want me to focus on today?”

  “Yes, I have plenty of letters to dictate. Finish what you’re doing, and we will get to work on that.”

  “Not a problem.” I was grateful to have a break from the filing.

  Twenty minutes later, I was settled in front of Lord Galbraith’s computer, document open, and ready for him to begin his dictation.

  Lord Galbraith leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes. “The first letter is to Baron Charles Windsor, on the matter of the sale of fourteen Park Avenue.”

  I focused on the screen, fingers dashing across the keyboard as Lord Galbraith dictated. It wasn’t an exciting topic, but it was something different, and it was nice to have company in the study.

  Three hours of dictation later, my fingers ached and my head pounded from staring at the screen for so long. On several occasions, though, Lord Galbraith had dozed off, and that had given me some respite. I’d completed ten long letters, printed out the first drafts for Lord Galbraith to read, and just needed to make the changes before I caught the last post.

  Lord Galbraith clapped his hands together. “We need a break. Time for tea and some of those sweet fancies.”

  “I can get them.” I was eager to get out of my seat and stretch my legs.

  “No need.” Lord Galbraith tugged on a red cord in the corner of the study. “Gladys is in today. She can sort out the tea and cakes. You haven’t met her, yet, have you?”

  “Not yet,” I said. “She cleans and disappears before I get up.”

  “I’ve changed her working hours so she will be around more,” said Lord Galbraith. “And I am also looking into employing a new cook. The food the catering company provides is good quality, but it’s hard to get them to be exacting and create the food I enjoy. Plus, I do miss the enticing smells from the kitchen. It seems to make the house homelier when there’s someone down there baking bread, making cakes, and looking after the whole family. Although my dear wife is not so keen.”

  “If you want me to, I can place an advertisement for a new cook,” I said.

  “Yes, what an excellent idea,” said Lord Galbraith. “I had better check with my darling wife before we go ahead with an advertisement, though. She doesn’t seem to like any of the cooks I employ. The last one had some issues with cleanliness that are best left unsaid. But I think a new cook would be ideal.”

  The door to the study received a sharp rap before it was pushed open, and a tall, middle-aged woman, with dark hair shot through with grey stood before us. “You called, Lord Galbraith?”

  “Gladys, do come in for a moment,” said Lord Galbraith. “You have yet to meet my new assistant, Miss Lorna Shadow.”

  I shook hands wi
th Gladys, getting a sense there was strength behind her firm handshake. “Nice to meet you.”

  “Likewise. I haven’t been around much recently, but that’s going to change now Lord Galbraith has increased my hours.” She shot him a grateful smile.

  “Yes, Gladys will be doing the cleaning and some of the basic domestic servants’ work,” said Lord Galbraith.

  I smiled at Gladys and saw her discreetly shake her head. “Yes, I can do the fetching and carrying, just as much as I can wave a duster around,” she said before turning her attention to Lord Galbraith. “What can I get for you?”

  “A large pot of tea and some of those fancy cakes would be perfect,” said Lord Galbraith.

  “Let me give you a hand.” I hopped up from my seat. Gladys had been working for the Galbraiths for years, and she might have some useful insights into what happened to Beatrice.

  “I can manage the tea making duties,” said Gladys sharply, her dark eyes narrowing.

  “I’m sure you make an excellent pot of tea,” I said. “But I'd like to stretch my legs.”

  Gladys gave a shrug. “Very well.”

  I followed her out of the study and along the corridor to the kitchen. “I hope you don’t mind me tagging along. When Lord Galbraith gets into the flow of his dictation, he doesn’t seem to remember things like comfort breaks.”

  Gladys nodded. “It’s okay. But I want to make sure he sees me as useful and as indispensable as possible. Jobs around here aren’t plentiful, and the new hours he’s given me will be incredibly handy.”

  “Please don’t think I’m trying to take over your job.” I watched as Gladys arranged the mugs and cake on a tray with expert precision. “I can just about boil an egg and leave all the cooking to my friend, Helen. She is Lady Galbraith’s new seamstress.”

  “Yes, I’ve seen her about early in the morning hurrying to her ladyship’s room,” said Gladys.

  “How long have you worked for the family?” I asked.

  “Almost ten years,” said Gladys. “I returned to the village to care for my elderly mother, and when she died, I decided I wanted to stay. But old houses are expensive to run, and Lord Galbraith was kind enough to give me this cleaning job.” She glanced up at me. “The money covers the bills in the cottage I live in, but not much else. The whole place needs work. And with these increased hours, I’ll be able to get some new heating in before winter.”

  “You must have known Beatrice Galbraith. We were talking about her over dinner the other night.”

  “Yes, I was here when Beatrice was alive.” Gladys poured boiling water into a pretty patterned floral teapot.

  “It was sad what happened to her,” I said.

  “Very sad,” said Gladys. “She is buried in the grounds here.”

  I looked up in surprise. “Can you do that?” The thought of a dead body buried in the garden unsettled me.

  “Yes, it’s perfectly legal. You need to get permission, but providing you’re burying the body on privately owned land, it isn’t a problem,” said Gladys. “In fact, she specifically requested to be buried in the pet cemetery.”

  “There’s an animal graveyard in the garden?”

  “Yes, haven’t you found it yet?” asked Gladys with a smile. “It’s quite sweet really. Some of them even have their own little headstones telling you their name and how old they were when they died and what a beloved pet they were. The house has been much quieter since Beatrice died. She was always the one who wanted animals in the household. At one point, I think she had five or six dogs. Lord Galbraith is rather fond of them as well.”

  “Perhaps Beatrice wanted to be buried close to her animal companions?”

  “She may have,” said Gladys. “She loved her pets.”

  “Did you think there was anything strange about the way Beatrice died?” I decided to test the water and see how Gladys reacted to being questioned.

  “It was strange the poor lady was found dead outside in her nightwear,” said Gladys. “Not the most dignified way to go. I imagine, if she’s looking down on us, she would be mortified she’d been discovered in such a fashion. Beatrice was a very proper lady. Some might say old fashioned, but she had good qualities about her.”

  “And there was an inquest and an autopsy completed to make sure her death was by natural causes?” I wanted to double check the information I’d gotten from Cecil was correct. He didn’t strike me as the most reliable of witnesses.

  “From what I know of it.” Gladys gave me a curious look. “What interest have you in Beatrice?”

  “It strikes me as sad that such a nice sounding lady died in such a manner.” I shrugged and tried to appear nonchalant. “Call me nosy if you like.”

  “You can check out the pet cemetery and her grave if you want to.” Gladys lifted the full tray and gestured at the door for me to open it. “If you go past the compost heap and walk for about half a mile, the pet cemetery is on your right-hand side, surrounded by willow trees. There’s a small lake not too far away as well.”

  “I might just do that.” I propped the door open for Gladys to walk through.

  “Some people are into that sort of thing, wandering about the tombstones. Seems a bit morbid to me,” said Gladys. “I’m sure the family won’t mind, though. I don’t think any of them go down there, so they won’t even know if you have a look.”

  I returned to the study with Gladys and settled back in my seat as she served the tea and cakes. Although the cakes were tiny, no more than a mouthful, they were delightful examples of all my favorite cakes; there was a miniature Victoria sandwich, a coffee and walnut cake, and a tiny bite of rich, moist fruitcake. I could have had several rounds of them, especially since Flipper had scoffed his fair share of my cakes. Every time he turned his sad looking eyes on me, he got a little treat.

  “I’m going to take a short stroll,” said Lord Galbraith. “I won’t be long. I’ve made some changes to the letters you’ve done. Get those sorted and we can continue when I return.”

  I waited for Lord Galbraith to leave and then slid a file out from the desk drawer. I’d noticed it yesterday when I’d been arranging the filing system, but hadn’t had an opportunity to read through it without being disturbed. “Keep an eye on the door for me, Flipper. This looks interesting.”

  Flipper obediently walked over to the door and stationed himself in front of it.

  The folder in my hands had the words Beatrice Galbraith printed across the front in black pen. I opened the file and discovered some newspaper clippings about Beatrice. Most of them involved her winning dog show competitions, and there were several black and white photographs of her kneeling next to a variety of dogs, a shy smile on her face.

  There were also several clippings detailing her death. I scanned the articles and saw no comment had been made by the family about Beatrice’s demise. The facts in the articles were bland and unhelpful.

  Underneath the newspaper clippings was a report from Cecil about her death. I scanned through it, but couldn’t see anything of value. The cause of death was listed as heart failure.

  Flipper started whining and pacing, and I shut the folder quickly and shoved it in the drawer. A few seconds later, a cold draft flew past my face and some papers fluttered on the desk. It seemed as if Beatrice was watching out for me as well, making sure I wasn’t caught doing something I shouldn’t.

  The study door opened and Lord Galbraith returned. “How are you getting on with those letters?”

  I looked at the discarded pile of letters I should have been altering and gave him my brightest smile. “Almost done.”

  ***

  I grabbed a late dinner with Helen, and we sat at the kitchen table, enjoying a bowl of tomato soup and some freshly made bread that had arrived from the village bakery.

  “Any updates from our friendly neighborhood ghost?” Helen dipped a piece of bread into her soup.

  “I found a file in Lord Galbraith’s office. There were newspaper clippings about his sister, but
it didn’t provide much information that we don’t already know,” I said. “There was also a report and a death certificate signed by Cecil, stating the cause of death as heart failure.”

  “Is Beatrice still pointing her ghostly finger at her brother as the only suspect?”

  “No one else seems to be considered a suspect by her. I did find out from the cleaner, Gladys, that Beatrice’s body is buried in the grounds.”

  “They have a graveyard in the garden?” Helen’s eyes widened in surprise.

  “Yes. It is a bit strange to be buried in your back garden. Perhaps the site has been disturbed or she’s changed her mind and wants to be moved. That could be the real reason for her ghost being around, and Beatrice has simply gotten confused.”

  Helen shuddered. “I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep knowing there’s a dead body not far from me.”

  “There’s also an assortment of deceased pets there too,” I said. “Someone in the household set up a pet cemetery.”

  “Now, you’re really going to give me nightmares,” said Helen. “Isn’t there a horror novel about a pet cemetery?”

  I nodded. “I think it’s sweet, having a burial site for your beloved pets. I hate to think of what it will be like when Flipper dies, but I will find a way to keep his memory with me.” I stroked my hand across his warm fur, his head in its usual position on my knee.

  “So long as you don’t decide to go around wearing some of his bones as a necklace. I’m fine with anything else.”

  “Even having him stuffed and sat on the back seat of my car?”

  “No! That’s horrible,” said Helen.

  I looked down at Flipper and patted his head. “Nothing so macabre, but it would be nice to have a permanent memorial for him.” I felt tears in my eyes and blinked them away. Flipper was a wonder dog. He was going to live forever.

  “So, we have Lord Galbraith as a suspect, which I’m still not convinced about,” said Helen. “But if it’s not him, then who else is on the suspect list for Beatrice’s possible murder?”

  “I favor the cousin,” I said. I’d told Helen about his intimidating behavior last night. “Douglas has a vested interest in making sure things don’t change, so there’s no risk he will lose his inheritance. He could have staged Beatrice’s death as an accident and is getting worried someone is going to uncover the truth.”