The House on Widows Hill

by Simon R. Green

  But I didn’t.

  Once it was over, and Arthur had died again, I told Tom to run the recording a second time, but it didn’t help. I even had Tom zoom in for a close up on Arthur’s face, so I could study him carefully as he died. I watched his jaw drop and his eyes widen, and then he just fell backwards. There wasn’t enough time for him to feel shock or pain or horror. I was pretty sure he was dead before he hit the floor. Freddie turned her face away, and I nodded for Tom to shut down the recording. The camera feeds filled the screen again, showing us staring at each other from four different angles.

  ‘I told you,’ Lynn said dully. ‘Arthur was killed by the dark. He saw something in it that we didn’t, and the sheer horror of it stopped his heart.’

  ‘He didn’t look scared to me,’ said Penny.

  ‘It could have been just a normal heart attack, I suppose,’ said Tom.

  ‘Of course it wasn’t a heart attack!’ said Freddie. ‘Not at his age!’

  ‘It must have been something like that!’ said Tom. ‘What else could it have been?’

  ‘It was the house,’ said Lynn.

  ‘Hold it!’ said Tom.

  All four camera feeds had cut out simultaneously, leaving nothing but a screen full of buzzing static. And then something started pinging loudly.

  ‘What is that?’ said Penny.

  ‘It’s the motion-trackers,’ said Tom, leaning in close to study the readings still running down the side of his screen. ‘But this can’t be right … The trackers are saying they’re picking up movements all over the house! You’d need an invading army to set off this many responses. And … wait a minute, wait a minute … All the environmental readings are off the scale!’

  And then the camera feeds returned, the readings settled down and the motion-trackers shut up.

  ‘What did you do, Tom?’ said Penny.

  ‘I didn’t do anything,’ he said numbly. He looked hurt that his precious instruments had turned on him.

  ‘What was the point of all that?’ said Freddie.

  ‘To send us a message?’ said Tom.

  ‘Like the voice on the phone,’ said Penny.

  ‘I was right,’ said Lynn. ‘This house is trying to talk to us.’

  ‘Or … someone in this house is messing with Tom’s equipment, to distract us,’ I said. ‘To keep us from noticing something else that’s going on.’

  ‘Like what?’ said Lynn.

  ‘I don’t know,’ I said reasonably. ‘I was distracted.’

  ‘If we can’t trust my instruments, then that means we’re not protected by them,’ said Tom.

  Freddie sniffed. ‘Like we ever were …’

  ‘We should just leave,’ Lynn said forcefully. ‘Do whatever it takes to get the hell out of Harrow House, while we still can.’

  Tom turned away from his screen and fished around in one of his suitcases. He finally produced a really big hammer – the kind you choose when you think a job might start fighting back.

  ‘I am going back down the hall to beat the shit out of the front door’s lock or its hinges, until something falls apart,’ he announced loudly. ‘Anyone who wants to come with me is welcome, as long as they stay out of my way.’

  ‘Sounds like a plan to me,’ said Freddie, heaving herself out of her chair with the light of battle in her eyes. ‘I have had enough of this house. It killed my Arthur.’

  Lynn got to her feet too, and then all three of them looked at Penny and me. I didn’t even try to argue with them. They were in no mood to listen, and I couldn’t be sure that they were wrong. This was the only place in the house where something bad had happened. Tom gestured at the barricaded door.

  ‘Are you going to move that chair or just stand there and sulk?’

  I hauled the chair away, opened the door and stood back. ‘Give it your best shot, Tom. Show that front door no mercy. If it doesn’t work out, you can always come back. I’ll keep a light burning.’

  Lynn looked at me incredulously. ‘You aren’t seriously thinking of staying here? After everything that’s happened?’

  ‘Because of everything that’s happened,’ I said. ‘I’m not leaving until I’ve got some answers.’

  ‘The house hates us and wants us dead,’ said Lynn. ‘What more do you need to know?’

  ‘It must be wonderful to be so sure of things,’ I said. ‘I haven’t been sure about anything that’s happened since we first set foot inside Harrow House.’

  ‘Arthur died,’ said Freddie. ‘You can be sure of that.’

  ‘And I have no intention of joining him,’ said Tom. ‘I’ll be back for my stuff in the morning. When it’s light.’

  He strode out into the hall, hefting his hammer, with Lynn and Freddie right behind him. Penny and I stood together in the doorway to watch them go. There was a new confidence in Tom’s stride now that he had something useful to do. Lynn and Freddie just seemed pleased that someone had made a decision.

  ‘You’d better go after them,’ I said to Penny.

  ‘Why?’ said Penny. ‘They look as if they know what they’re doing.’

  ‘I don’t think Malcolm Welles would have put his trust in the kind of door that could be defeated by something as simple as a hammer,’ I said. ‘So stand back, watch and listen. Just in case one of them says something interesting when it all goes wrong.’

  ‘You are so sharp you’ll cut yourself one of these days,’ said Penny. ‘Or, more probably, someone else. What am I supposed to be listening for?’

  ‘I think you’ll know it when you hear it,’ I said. ‘While you’re gone, I’ll give this room a good going over. A man died here, and I want to know why.’

  ‘Of course you do,’ said Penny. ‘You always feel responsible when someone dies on your watch. Even when it’s obviously not your fault.’

  She kissed me quickly and set off down the hall.

  Left alone in the room, I looked under every chair, checked every piece of furniture, and even took a quick peek behind all the paintings, very definitely including the portrait of Malcolm Welles. Finally, I tested the nailed-shut window with my more-than-human strength. The nails made awful straining sounds in the heavy wooden frame, but they wouldn’t budge. I went back to where we’d held the seance, and knelt down next to where Arthur’s body had been. There wasn’t a single drop of blood on the bare floorboards, but I could still smell his death on the air. And that was when Arthur appeared before me, standing on the spot where he’d died. I stood up quickly and stared at him, and he glared right back at me.

  ‘What the hell just happened?’ he said heatedly.

  It took me a moment before I could say anything. ‘Damned if I know. Arthur … is that you?’

  ‘Of course it’s me!’

  Arthur looked round the room, while I studied him carefully. He looked perfectly normal, completely solid and very real. Except I couldn’t hear his heartbeat or his breathing, and his clothes didn’t rustle when he moved. And he had no scent. He turned around suddenly and caught me looking at him.

  ‘What is the matter with you?’ he said sharply. ‘Why are you looking at me like I owe you money?’

  ‘I think it’s more a question of what’s the matter with you?’ I said. ‘I hate to be the one to break it to you, Arthur, but you are quite definitely dead. We all saw you die, right where you’re standing. Freddie and I had to carry your body to another room, because it was upsetting the others.’

  ‘I died?’ said Arthur. He sounded more puzzled than upset. ‘I felt this sudden pain in my chest and I couldn’t seem to get my breath, and then … I died?’

  ‘I’m afraid so,’ I said. ‘I checked you over very carefully; you had no vital signs at all.’

  ‘Are you telling me I’m a ghost?’ said Arthur. ‘That I’m the one haunting Harrow House?’

  ‘Looks like it,’ I said. ‘Loath though I am to admit it. I don’t believe in ghosts.’

  ‘Neither do I,’ said Arthur. He looked at me closely. ‘Are you all right
? Only you’ve gone a bit pale.’

  ‘I think I’m in shock.’

  ‘Well, don’t have a heart attack, or there’ll be two of us standing here wondering why we’re not breathing.’

  I prodded him in the chest with a finger and my hand just kept on going, sinking into his chest until it disappeared up to the wrist. Arthur didn’t move, staring down at my arm. I couldn’t feel anything, so I waved my hand back and forth through his body without meeting any resistance. I pulled my hand out and looked at it.

  ‘Are you quite finished?’ Arthur said coldly.

  ‘Yes,’ I said.

  ‘Convinced?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Then don’t ever do that again.’

  ‘Sorry,’ I said.

  ‘So … I really am dead.’ Arthur shook his head slowly. ‘I’m dead, and I’m a ghost. Definitely not what I expected when I allowed myself to be bullied into visiting Harrow House at last. I can’t be dead … I’m too young to be dead!’ He glared at me. ‘How did this happen?’

  I had to raise an eyebrow at that. ‘Don’t you know?’

  ‘No! One moment I was sitting there in the circle, trying to work out what’s up with the darkness in the doorway, then the lights go out, and the next thing I know I’m standing here looking at you. Wait a minute … You just said you moved my body. What was wrong with it?’

  ‘The smell was starting to upset the others,’ I said as kindly as I could.

  ‘Typical,’ said Arthur. ‘Even when I’m dead, I don’t get any respect.’

  ‘I can show you where we put you,’ I said. ‘If you want.’

  ‘No,’ Arthur said quickly. ‘I don’t think I’m ready to see that yet. Was I … disfigured?’

  ‘Not in the least,’ I said. ‘You just collapsed and died. The others think it might have been a heart attack.’

  ‘Are they crazy? I’m young! Young! I go running every weekend!’ He stopped suddenly and looked at me narrowly. ‘You don’t think that it was a heart attack, do you?’

  ‘I think it’s far more likely you were murdered,’ I said steadily. ‘Though I’m still working on the how, why and who.’

  ‘Maybe that’s why I’ve come back as a ghost,’ said Arthur. ‘OK, I feel weird, saying that out loud. I really can’t get my head around the idea that I’m dead, and I’m still here.’

  ‘I can understand that,’ I said. ‘I really don’t believe in ghosts.’

  He glared at me. ‘You even try to wave your arm through me again and I will poltergeist your arse through a wall.’

  ‘You can do that?’ I said.

  ‘You want to find out the hard way?’

  ‘Not really,’ I said. ‘All right, you’re a ghost. Where do we go from here?’

  ‘Beats the hell out of me,’ said Arthur. ‘Are you positive I was murdered?’

  ‘I don’t have any hard evidence,’ I said. ‘I suppose it could have been natural causes, or some phenomenon in the house that we don’t properly understand yet, or …’

  ‘You don’t sound very sure of anything!’

  ‘I’m not,’ I said. ‘I’m having to make major adjustments in my thinking just to talk to you without losing my cool big time. I’ve seen all kinds of weird stuff before, but …’

  ‘What kind of weird stuff?’ Arthur said immediately.

  ‘Vampires, werewolves, psychic assassins …’

  ‘Seriously?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Damn! The biggest story of my life – and I’m too dead to do anything about it.’ Arthur fumed for a moment and then shrugged unhappily. ‘You’re not the only one who’s having problems dealing with this. I have just realized that I can’t feel the floor under my feet, and that is seriously weirding me out. I’m dead, and I’m a ghost … I suppose I’m going to have to start giving some serious thought to the afterlife now. Heaven and Hell, and all that. I know it’s a bit late, but I always thought I’d have more time to make up my mind. I’m only twenty-five! I mean, I was. And now I’ll never be twenty-six. All the things I was going to do …’

  For a moment I thought he might fall apart, and I had no idea what I could say that would help, but somehow he found the strength to carry on. I was impressed. I wasn’t sure I could have done the same, in his circumstances. He looked at me thoughtfully.

  ‘Do you have any idea who might have killed me?’

  ‘Almost certainly one of the people sitting in the seance with you,’ I said. ‘If only because they had the best opportunity. Though we have been arguing about whether there might be other people hiding somewhere else in the house …’

  Arthur actually brightened up a little. ‘The treasure! They could be looking for the hidden treasure!’

  ‘That is traditional in a situation like this,’ I said. ‘Are you saying there really is treasure?’

  Arthur nodded quickly. ‘Could be … There are all kinds of stories about what happened to Malcolm Welles’s fortune. It disappeared the same time he did. Certainly none of it ever ended up with my side of the family. There was a lot of gossip at the time that he’d left something valuable in the house. My ancestors practically tore the place apart looking for it. Treasure-hunting was about the only thing that could make people strong enough to stand being in this house for a while. But no one ever found anything, so eventually they just gave up.

  ‘Professional treasure-hunters took it in turns to break into the house after that, to look for themselves, but they never found anything either. Some of them came stumbling out half mad, and some never came out at all. Word got around, and the criminal types decided there were safer ways to get rich quick. No one’s even tried to dig up the grounds for decades. But perhaps there really is a treasure here, after all! Didn’t Freddie say something about ghosts coming back to reveal where treasures were hidden, as well as to complain about being murdered?’

  ‘She did,’ I said.

  ‘So just by being here I’m covering all the usual bases.’ Arthur stopped and met my gaze steadily. ‘How is Freddie? How is she handling my being dead?’

  ‘She’s upset,’ I said carefully. ‘But she’s coping.’

  ‘Good. I liked her. It might have become more than that, but now I suppose I’ll never know …’

  ‘Concentrate on what’s in front of you,’ I said kindly. ‘Help me out here, Arthur. Do you have any enemies?’

  He looked at me pityingly. ‘I’m a reporter. But I never wrote anything important enough for anyone to want me dead. I always hoped I would, but that’s not going to happen now. All I have left is to find out who killed me. One last story to investigate, even if I’ll never get to write it.’

  ‘I could always find you a ghost writer,’ I said.

  Arthur glowered at me. ‘Really not in the mood for humour, right now.’

  ‘Oh, you’d be surprised at what’s possible,’ I said. ‘Penny and I have a lot of experience when it comes to the stranger areas of the world.’

  ‘I remember. Vampires and werewolves and psychics – oh, my. I always knew there was something weird about you two. What are you, exactly? Some kind of undercover agents?’

  ‘Something like that,’ I said.

  ‘I knew it! Who do you work for? Would I have heard of them?’

  I had to smile. ‘Even dead, you’re still thinking like a reporter.’

  ‘Of course,’ he said. ‘When everything else has been taken from you, you can still cling to the truth.’

  ‘The truth is the one thing that always matters,’ I said.

  ‘All right, then, give me the facts. Who are you, what are you, and what are you really doing here?’

  ‘Sorry,’ I said. ‘I can’t tell you any of that.’

  ‘Why not?’ said Arthur. ‘I’m dead! Who am I going to tell?’

  ‘I can hear you,’ I said. ‘So maybe others can, too.’ I decided he needed distracting. ‘How does it feel, being a ghost?’

  He took a moment to think about it. ‘I feel … surprisingly calm.
I should be crying my eyes out, or raging at the heavens over the injustice of it all, but I’m not.’

  ‘Probably just as well,’ I said.

  And then we both looked round as we heard people coming back down the hall. Going by their angry voices, it was a case of door one, hammer nil.

  ‘I don’t think I want to meet the others just yet,’ said Arthur. ‘I’m not ready for that.’

  He disappeared. I blinked a few times and then swept my arm through the space where he’d been standing.

  ‘I told you not to do that!’ said Arthur’s voice.

  ‘You’re still here?’ I said.

  ‘In spirit. But don’t tell the others that I’m here.’

  ‘Are you sure?’ I said. ‘I think it might help Freddie to know that you’re still around.’

  ‘Especially not her.’ Arthur’s voice was suddenly tired. ‘I don’t want her reminded of what we might have had. If the universe had been kinder. Look, you said it yourself. Someone in this group of ghost-botherers killed me. Let whoever it is think they got away with it, for the moment. If they relax, they might say something incriminating. That’s how most murderers get caught, isn’t it?’

  ‘Usually,’ I said. ‘But there’s not much usual about this case.’ A thought struck me. ‘Now that you’re a ghost, can you see any other ghosts?’

  ‘I haven’t looked,’ said Arthur’s voice. ‘And I don’t think I want to. Just the idea gives me the creeps.’

  ‘But you’re dead! What have you got to be worried about?’

  ‘I don’t know! And I don’t want to find out. Stick to solving my murder, Ishmael.’

  ‘All right,’ I said. ‘How about this? I’ll gather everyone together, and you appear before them. That might be enough to make someone confess.’

  Arthur’s voice sounded tempted. ‘Yeah, I could point a finger and demand vengeance in a spooky voice … But I really don’t think that would work. I have this feeling that none of them would be able to see me.’

  ‘Lynn should be able to,’ I said. ‘Ghosts are her bread and butter.’

  ‘Oh, please!’ said Arthur. ‘She’s about as real as a six-pound note.’