by K E O'Connor
Lady Galbraith looked at the papers one more time, before moving to the open fireplace, removing a match from the box on the mantelpiece, striking it, and setting light to the papers, dropping them into the empty hearth. Only when the pages had turned to charred embers did she turn and look at me. The expression in her eyes was not what I expected. They were clouded with regret.
Lady Galbraith shook her head gently and returned to her seat, slumping down as if the air had been extracted from her. “It is perhaps not one of my proudest moments, planning to have my sister-in-law removed from her family home.” Her fingers stroked through Flipper’s fur as he remained by her chair.
“Did you not get on with Beatrice?” I dared ask, knowing I was risking her wrath by doing so.
Lady Galbraith exhaled and shut her eyes for a few seconds. “There was nothing bad about my sister-in-law, but she was needy. I tolerated her because she had nowhere else to go. But she was a burden, needing to be taken care of and thought about. I wished she had simply gotten married and moved away. I’m sure Sylvester would have been happier with her not constantly around.”
“Is that why you decided to have her evicted?” I asked.
Lady Galbraith looked at me coldly, before her gaze dropped to Flipper’s head. “She always loved dogs. At one time, I believe she had six sleeping in her room. Over the years, they got old and sick, as animals tend to do. But she was always passionate about them. And although I complained about the noise and fur, I’d forgotten what it was like to have a dog in the household. I have missed it.”
“I saw one of Beatrice’s dogs in your kennels,” I said. “Perhaps you could let her back into the house?”
“No, you must be mistaken,” said Lady Galbraith. “The animals in the kennels belong to Douglas. They are hunting dogs, not meant to be inside.”
“I saw one that isn’t a hunting dog. She might be happier inside than stuck in a kennel on her own.”
“No, this house has no place for animals anymore,” said Lady Galbraith. “Dogs were Beatrice’s passion. Now she is gone, it doesn’t seem right to have them.”
I decided to try one last question and hoped it wouldn’t get me fired. “Is that why you wanted Beatrice to leave, because the dogs were annoying you?”
“It had nothing to do with her animals,” said Lady Galbraith. “It was time for Beatrice to make her own way in the world. Sometimes she wouldn’t leave the house for weeks, other than to walk her dogs. She never spoke to anybody. She was reclusive. It was not natural. Beatrice needed an incentive to stand on her own feet and see what the world had for her, before she became too old and set in her ways. Perhaps I went about it the wrong way, trying to force the issue. But as you saw from the date of those letters, I had them drawn up just before Beatrice died. She never knew what I had planned. It’s almost sad; perhaps, if I had evicted her, she might still be alive.”
“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.
“Expl
ain 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 opportunity 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 e
verything 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.