Ghostly Manners

by K. E. O'Connor

  “Why do you think that?” I asked. “Do you think staying in this house led to Beatrice’s death?”

  “In a way it did,” said Lady Galbraith. “She may have found a zest and an energy to carry on, rather than slowly decay in this old place.”

  “You were doing it to help Beatrice?”

  “Nobody else would,” said Lady Galbraith. “Although I found her trying at times, I still wanted the poor woman to have a better life. Stuck inside here, only her dogs for company, and her brother treating her like a china doll, she deserved more. But now she will never have that.”

  I was surprised by the sadness reverberating in Lady Galbraith’s voice. As twisted as it was, it did seem that, by throwing her sister out onto the street, she was trying to help her. “Shall I destroy the rest of these?” I pointed to the remaining solicitors’ letters.

  “Yes, if you would be so kind,” said Lady Galbraith. “I would not like Sylvester discovering them.”

  I nodded, before continuing to sort through the letters. Lady Galbraith’s motives were not pure, but she no longer seemed like a likely suspect in Beatrice’s death. By forcing her out of the house, she'd been trying to give her a better life. She wouldn't have killed Beatrice if she was attempting to help her.

  That left Sylvester, Douglas, Cecil, or my outside punt of the chauffeur, Karl, as suspects. I just needed to figure out who did it, why and how, and maybe Beatrice could get some peace.

  Chapter 13

  “I’m amazed you got through the ice lady’s defences.” Helen leaned back in her seat at the kitchen table. We had finished our evening meal, and I’d updated Helen about my interesting conversation with Lady Galbraith.

  “You were right; she’s not so cold,” I said. “I was surprised to find out she was planning to evict Beatrice, but when she explained why she’d wanted to do it, there was a twisted logic to it.”

  “And she likes Flipper.” Helen fed him a small piece of potato from the side of her plate. “She must be nice if she likes animals.”

  “Which leaves us with Douglas, Sylvester, and our own nasty tempered chauffeur, Karl, as suspects in Beatrice’s death.”

  “And not forgetting the doctor,” said Helen. “Cecil must still be in the frame for being incompetent.”

  “What do you think, Beatrice?” I looked over to where the ghost stood by the kitchen sink in her usual position, arms folded across her matronly bosom and a scowl on her face. “Do you think it was Karl?”

  Beatrice shook her head.

  “How about Mr Sleazebag, Douglas?” I asked.

  She shook her head again.

  “Or how about Cecil?” asked Helen, her gaze unfocused as she tried to spot Beatrice.

  “She’s shaking her head,” I said to Helen. “Which leaves us with Sylvester. Do you really think he hurt you?” I asked Beatrice.

  Before Beatrice could respond, the kitchen door opened. Zach stood there, a curious look on his face. “Who were you talking to?” His gaze was fixed on me.

  I pointed at Helen, realising we must have been overheard chatting to a ghost. “Just Helen and Flipper.”

  Zach walked into the kitchen and shut the door behind him. “It sounded as if you were having a conversation with Beatrice, which is impossible.”

  “It's rude to eavesdrop,” I said.

  Zach frowned. “I didn't mean to. But when I overheard part of your conversation I couldn't help myself.”

  “It doesn’t have to be impossible,” said Helen. “Why couldn't we be talking to Beatrice?”

  I shot her a glare. Nobody else knew about my ghost seeing abilities, and that was exactly how I wanted it to stay.

  “Care to explain that comment?” Zach still had his attention fixed on me, his dark hair a tangled mess around his face.

  “I was talking to Helen,” I stuttered. “There’s nobody else here I could be talking to.”

  “You should tell him,” said Helen. “He’ll understand. You said it yourself; he’s sensitive to this kind of thing.”

  “What kind of thing do you mean?” asked Zach.

  The dishes in the sink rattled on their own, and the lights flicked on and off several times, followed by an icy cold gust of wind that shot around the kitchen, lifting my hair from my shoulders.

  Zach’s eyes widened. “What just happened?”

  “For goodness sake.” Helen slapped a hand on the wooden table top. “Beatrice Galbraith just happened. That’s who Lorna was talking to. She can see ghosts.”

  All eyes riveted to me, Flipper’s and Beatrice’s included, as they awaited my response.

  “Is this true?” asked Zach, after an uncomfortable few seconds of silence. “Do you think you can see ghosts?”

  “There’s nothing to think about,” said Helen. “She can see ghosts. It’s a fact. And they can see her too. And they can see you, and me, and Flipper. In fact, Flipper is sensitive to them as well. He senses when they are about to materialise and acts as an early warning system, so no one gets too spooked.”

  “Is this a joke?” Zach’s eyes narrowed.

  “Explain the flickering lights, rattling dishes, and cold wind?” I said to him with a sigh. Zach was going to think I had lost my mind.

  “A minor earthquake?” suggested Zach.

  “In Wiltshire?” I asked. “Do we get many of those around here?”

  “We might,” said Zach cautiously.

  “So the earthquake caused the gust of wind?” I looked over at Beatrice and gestured for her to do something else.

  Beatrice smiled before blinking out of sight. A second later, she appeared next to Zach and planted a quick kiss on his cheek.

  Zach jumped to one side, his hand on his face, where the icy cold lips of Beatrice had just been pressed.

  I could see Beatrice’s cheeks glowing from where I sat. “Thank you, Beatrice.” I looked over at Zach. “So, explain that?”

  His hand remained on his stubbled cheek, and he stroked the flesh with the tips of his fingers. “It felt like a piece of ice on my cheek.”

  “It was a ghost kiss,” I said to him. “Beatrice kissed you.”

  Helen grinned. “And everyone describes Beatrice as shy. She must like you, Zach.”

  Zach dropped his hand to his side, forehead wrinkled. “I’m not sure what I just experienced, but whatever you’re doing, you need to be careful.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  “This family is extremely rich, with connections everywhere. They wouldn’t think twice about crushing a staff member who causes them problems,” said Zach.

  “We aren’t causing them problems,” I said. “Beatrice still being around in ghost form is something we are trying to help with. We didn’t cause her to materialise. She must have been here ever since she died, or more likely, as we’re discovering, she was killed.”

  Zach scrubbed a hand across his face and slumped into the nearest seat by the table. “You’d better not be playing a game with the family. They are kind to people who play by their rules, but break them, and you will know about it. If this is some elaborate ruse to extort money out of them or get some fame, it won't work.”

  “We're not after money or fame.” Helen glared at Zach. “We're helping someone put right a wrong.”

  I studied Zach in silence. “You don’t seem surprised I’ve just said Beatrice was killed.”

  Zach rolled his shoulders and twisted his neck from side to side. “It’s not my place to pry, and I wasn’t here when she died, so all I have to go on are hearsay and rumors. But something doesn’t add up about her death.”

  “Do you think she was killed?”

  “It’s possible. She didn’t have any enemies that I know of, though,” said Zach.

  “Beatrice thinks Lord Galbraith killed her,” I said. “What do you think about that theory?”

  Zach shook his head. “I know Sylvester as well as any employee can know their boss. I don’t see him doing it. He liked his sister, and when he gets the op
portunity to talk about her, he speaks of Beatrice fondly. There is never any sign of guilt in his words.”

  “What about Karl?” asked Helen. “We saw him stealing from Lord Galbraith. Shows he's not got a good character. And he was rude to us when we first met him.”

  “That’s something you need to explain to me,” said Zach. “What were you doing in Lord Galbraith’s study that night?”

  “Looking for clues as to who may have killed Beatrice,” I said. “What are your thoughts on Karl? He doesn’t seem like a nice guy. And if he’s stealing, maybe he’d be willing to go a few steps further and do Beatrice in. She could have caught him stealing from her, and he had to make sure she was silenced before she went to the police.”

  “I’m not convinced by that theory,” said Zach. “He is mean, but a killer? His job here is too easy. Most of the time, Karl hangs around the garage, tinkering with his cars and sleeping. And as you saw, he’s onto quite a cushy number, being able to steal whatever he likes from Sylvester’s study and get away with it. This place keeps him on the straight and narrow.”

  “If you call stealing and being a mean thug straight and narrow,” muttered Helen.

  “So if you don’t think it was Karl, and we’ve also ruled out Lady Galbraith and the mistress, that leaves us with Douglas.”

  “Also Cecil,” said Helen. “We need to do some more investigating into those two, see if they had a grudge against Beatrice.”

  “Well, we know Douglas doesn’t want anything looked into,” I said. “He was less than charming to me when he realised I’d been asking questions about Beatrice. Told me to keep my nose out or there’d be trouble.”

  “He did?” Zach’s face dropped into a frown. “Did he hurt you?”

  “No, nothing like that,” I said. “And even though you don't believe me about Beatrice’s ghost, she saved the day and got rid of him for me.”

  Zach blinked a few times, his gaze shifting around the kitchen. “That was kind of her.”

  “Ghosts can be helpful,” I said. “The ones I meet simply need some help or closure before they move on to wherever it is they go.”

  “Let’s assume for a second, I do believe you see ghosts,” said Zach. “And let’s assume the ghost of Beatrice Galbraith is in this kitchen with us, right now.”

  “Your assumptions would be correct,” I said.

  Zach shot me a caustic look. “What’s to say she isn’t here because this is the only home she knows? Maybe ghosts stay where they lived when they were alive. You may not even have a case to solve.”

  Before I could answer, Beatrice flashed in front of me, her image bright. She gestured out into the hallway, a look of alarm on her face. “Beatrice seems unhappy,” I said.

  The sound of a door slamming along the hallway made me jump, and when I strained to hear, the sound of furniture being moved around could be detected.

  Beatrice rattled the dishes in the sink so hard an edge chipped off one of them.

  “Something bad is happening.” I pushed away from the table and hurried out of the kitchen, the others behind me. “Let’s see what’s going on.”

  Chapter 14

  As we dashed along the hallway, the noises became clearer, and I recognised Lord Galbraith’s voice.

  I paused at the bottom of the stairs. “It’s coming from up there.” I pointed over our heads.

  “That might be Beatrice’s old room,” said Zach. “She had the room next to the stairs. She liked to be close to the exit in case one of her dogs needed to go out at night. That way, she could get in and out without disturbing anybody.”

  There was a loud thud from over our heads. “Let’s see what they’re up to.” I led the way up the stairs and turned right, stopping at the open door of one of the bedrooms. Inside, Lord Galbraith stood with his hands folded in front of him as Douglas stalked about the room opening and closing cabinet drawers and looking into wardrobes.

  “I’m telling you, this is the ideal spot,” said Douglas. “Get rid of this musty old furniture and bring in some modern pieces, and it will be ideal for me.” His gaze shifted to the door and a frown appeared on his face.

  Lord Galbraith turned towards the door and smiled when he saw us. “I hope we weren’t making too much noise for you. Douglas insisted on inspecting this room.”

  “It’s going to be my new study.” Douglas continued his investigation of one of the cabinets. “You get the best light in here, and the room hasn’t been used for years.”

  “This used to be Beatrice’s room,” said Lord Galbraith. “I haven’t wanted to do anything with it since she died. But Douglas could be right; it is time to move on. I can’t even remember the last time I opened the door. It is wasted space.”

  “Perhaps we can help,” I offered. “I could clear out the cabinets and wardrobes and make it easier for them to be moved. I can even arrange for a removal company to come and take away the pieces you no longer need.”

  Douglas squinted at me for a few seconds before shrugging his shoulders. “That would be good. The sooner we get this old junk out, the better. I like clean lines and everything to be white.”

  I noticed Lord Galbraith shudder at those words. Douglas’s idea of furnishings didn’t meet my standards, either. I preferred chintzy little pieces and up cycled antiques.

  “That would be very kind of you, my dear,” said Lord Galbraith. “So long as it doesn’t interfere with the work I need completed, you are most welcome to assist.”

  “We can make a start this evening,” I said to him. “I have finished my work with Lady Galbraith.”

  “Excellent idea,” said Douglas. “Empty everything out of the wardrobes and cupboards. If anything looks valuable, put it to one side, and we will see if we can make a bit of cash.”

  “Now, Douglas.” Lord Galbraith’s smile faded. “These are my sister’s things. I do not want them sold for profit.”

  “I was only thinking of you.” Douglas sniffed. “I wouldn’t keep the money. Perhaps the old girl would like her things auctioned off.”

  “If you did that, you might consider giving the money to one of the animal charities Beatrice supported,” I said, suppressing a smile as Douglas glared at me.

  “Waste of money,” said Douglas. “She was always bleating on about some lost cause that needed help.”

  “I think that is a fine idea,” said Lord Galbraith. “Let us leave the arrangements in Miss Shadow’s capable hands for now.” He ushered Douglas out of the room. “Do come to see me if you have any questions, my dear.”

  “Will do,” I said.

  We all watched Lord Galbraith and Douglas walk down the staircase.

  “Beatrice’s old room,” whispered Helen. “This could be just what we need. I bet there are all sorts of clues in here.”

  Zach peered into the room. “I suspect all you’ll find is a lot of dust bunnies and a few spiders.”

  “I’m not worried about spiders,” said Helen. “Flipper always gobbles them up. He loves the fat bodied ones.”

  I repressed a shudder. Flipper did enjoy hunting and eating spiders. I should be grateful, it meant there was less chance of them running across me in bed at night.

  “It won’t do any harm to take a look, though.” Helen turned to me. “What do you think?”

  “Yes, let’s take a look around.” I looked at Zach. “Are you joining us?”

  “I’ve got some work outside to finish,” said Zach. “But let me know if you find anything useful. And if you need a hand moving any of the heavy stuff, give me a shout, and I’ll come and help.”

  “Okay, thanks.” I felt a twinge of disappointment that he couldn’t spend any more time with me.

  Zach took hold of my arm gently. “And do be careful. I know you believe what you’re seeing is true, and I understand you want to help Beatrice. Don’t do it at the expense of your own safety. And just remember what I said; this family is a powerful one. If they think you are meddling for the wrong reasons, you are going to find yo
urself in trouble.”

  I nodded, watching his lean frame descend the stairs and turn the corner.

  “I think you have a fan,” said Helen.

  “I don’t know what you mean.” My gaze was still on Zach.

  “You have the hots for the gardener.”

  I grinned at Helen. “Whatever makes you think that?”

  She laughed. “Stop leering at your new crush. Let’s get searching for clues.” Helen strode into the room with Flipper by her side and pulled open a drawer on one of the cabinets.

  Zach’s words of warning played through my mind. I was being paranoid. There was nothing wrong with helping Beatrice. And if she had been killed, then she deserved justice. And I would be careful. Besides, what would the Galbraiths do? Tie me up in the cellar and leave me to rot?

  A shudder ran through me, before I walked into the bedroom and shut the door.

  ***

  Three hours later, I was covered in dust and old cobwebs. Flipper had eaten eight spiders and was dozing on the carpet by the door.

  “If this search has shown us anything,” said Helen, “it’s that Beatrice loved her dogs.”

  I glanced over at the piles of photograph albums and framed images, all with dogs on them. There wasn’t a family member in any of her shots. “I don’t hold that against her. She was devoted to her dogs and seems to have loved them more than anything else. I can understand why.” I gazed affectionately at Flipper, who gave a loud snort in his sleep.

  “But no secret letters or journals to give us any clues about who wanted to kill her.” Helen joined me on the floor and rested her back against the wall, drawing her knees up to her chest.

  “Nothing incriminating at all,” I said. “She really did live an uncomplicated life. I quite envy her; nothing to stress about, simply immersing herself in something she enjoyed and forgetting about everything else.”

  “She must have gotten involved in something else, though,” said Helen. “Otherwise she’d still be here. You don’t kill a person for no reason.”