The House on Widows Hill

by Simon R. Green

  ‘Oh, please,’ said Tom. ‘Don’t confuse my ghost-hunting skills with your mystic bullshit. I deal strictly in science.’

  ‘Right up to the point where it fails you,’ said Freddie.

  ‘Science hasn’t failed me!’ said Tom.

  ‘Then how do you explain all the weird stuff that’s happened?’ said Freddie. ‘The dark in the door, the stuffed animals that talked, the things in the mirror?’

  ‘It is possible that there are strong electromagnetic fields at work in this house,’ Tom said steadily. ‘Powerful enough to affect our minds and make us see things.’ He looked at the cabinet, with its closed doors. ‘What if … none of that actually happened? What if it was all just in our minds?’

  We all turned around to stare at the cabinet.

  ‘You mean, what we experienced was just a shared hallucination?’ said Lynn. ‘Is that even possible?’

  ‘It’s got to be more likely than a bunch of stuffed animals talking nonsense and then ripping the sawdust out of each other,’ said Tom.

  ‘All right,’ said Freddie. ‘If you’re so convinced, you go and open the cabinet doors and take a look. Show us what’s in there.’

  ‘Don’t do it, Tom,’ Lynn said quickly. ‘You can’t trust anything in this house.’

  ‘I’ll do it,’ I said. ‘This is one of the few things we can check for ourselves. If the stuffed animals aren’t actually damaged …’

  ‘But if the house has been making us see things, how can we trust anything we see?’ said Lynn.

  ‘Everything seems quiet for the moment,’ said Freddie. ‘If the house is busy recharging its batteries, I say let’s take advantage of it.’

  I looked at Penny, and for the first time she met my gaze and nodded slightly. I walked steadily over to the cabinet and reached for the handles.

  ‘Be careful, Ishmael!’ Lynn said suddenly. ‘Don’t let them get out!’

  I glanced back at her. ‘I think I can handle a few stuffed animals, even if they are still in a bad mood.’

  ‘They could bite!’ said Lynn.

  ‘They could try,’ I said. ‘But even then, it’s not like they’re going to give me rabies, is it?’

  I pulled the doors open and stepped back, so everyone could get a good view. All the shelves were empty. There wasn’t a single badly stuffed creature to be seen anywhere in the cabinet, and nothing to suggest they’d ever been there.

  ‘They can’t just have disappeared!’ said Freddie.

  ‘Unless they were never there,’ I said.

  ‘Maybe they were the ghosts of dead animals,’ said Lynn.

  ‘Ghosts don’t get themselves stuffed,’ said Freddie.

  ‘They only ever existed inside our minds,’ said Tom. ‘Just another trick the house has played on us.’

  ‘Or another attempt to communicate with us,’ said Penny. ‘Like the voice on your phone.’

  I closed the cabinet doors. ‘Tom, could you pull up the recording of us talking with the stuffed animals, so we can watch what really happened?’

  ‘Yes!’ Tom said immediately, pleased at having a straightforward problem to deal with. ‘I can do that! And my cameras don’t lie.’

  He settled down before his screen, grabbed his laptop and searched for the right sequence. The live camera feeds disappeared from the screen as everyone came over to join him. Even Arthur drifted in behind me, so he could peer over my shoulder. The recording showed our previous selves confronting a completely empty cabinet. We all appeared seriously spooked, but the only voices on the soundtrack were our own.

  ‘Show us the mirror sequence,’ said Freddie.

  Tom put that on the screen, and we all watched ourselves stare in horror at perfectly normal reflections.

  ‘How could we have been fooled so completely?’ said Penny.

  ‘It’s the house,’ said Lynn. ‘We see what it wants us to see.’

  ‘All because it wants to talk to us?’ said Freddie, frowning. ‘What does it have to say that could be so important? And why does it keep doing it the hard way?’

  ‘Perhaps because there isn’t an easy way,’ I said. ‘Tom, show us the door full of darkness, please.’

  We watched ourselves stare open-mouthed at a doorway full of perfectly normal hall light. Tom shut down the recording before we got to Arthur’s death, without having to be told, and we all looked at each other.

  ‘If the dark was a purely supernatural experience,’ Lynn said finally, ‘it might not show up on a recording.’

  ‘If you can’t record it, it didn’t really happen,’ said Tom.

  ‘You’re not listening to me!’ said Lynn. ‘This house can put things in our heads. The experience is real, even if what we see isn’t!’

  ‘OK …’ said Penny. ‘That is a seriously creepy thought. Even more than a house full of ghosts.’

  ‘Tom?’ I said. ‘You are frowning so hard you’ll break something in a minute. What’s wrong?’

  ‘If there were any serious electromagnetic fields operating in this house, powerful enough to affect the human brain, I’d expect my sensors to have picked them up,’ Tom said slowly. ‘And my readings aren’t showing anything like that. I suppose it could be some unknown form of energy …’

  ‘You mean magic?’ said Lynn.

  Tom looked at her.

  ‘How does any of this help decide which one of us killed Arthur?’ Freddie said doggedly.

  ‘If the house has been messing with our senses, who knows what evidence we might have missed?’ said Tom.

  ‘We were all holding hands when Arthur died,’ Lynn said stubbornly. ‘I don’t see how we could be fooled about something as basic as that.’

  ‘We could, if that was what the house wanted,’ said Freddie.

  ‘Then how can we be sure Arthur really is dead?’ Tom said suddenly.

  There was a sudden flare of hope in Freddie’s eyes, but it died just as quickly.

  ‘No,’ she said. ‘I felt his dead weight in my hands when I carried him out. I had to turn my face away from the smell of his death.’

  ‘I am so sorry, Freddie,’ Arthur said quietly. ‘You should never have had to go through something like that.’

  ‘Arthur was murdered,’ Freddie said flatly. ‘Either by something in this house or by one of us.’

  ‘If anyone had done anything to Arthur, we would have seen it on the recording,’ said Tom.

  ‘Not if the killer was really good at sleight of hand,’ I said. ‘What if someone jabbed him surreptitiously with a needle? We wouldn’t have spotted that.’

  ‘We were all holding hands!’ Lynn said loudly. ‘You all saw it on the recording! Nobody let go until he fell backwards, already dying! Arthur couldn’t have been killed by one of us, because none of us could possibly have done it.’

  ‘Just because you don’t want something to be true doesn’t mean it can’t be,’ said Freddie. ‘And there is one very suspicious person in this room … Ishmael Jones!’

  ‘And the girl!’ said Tom.

  ‘What?’ Penny said dangerously. ‘Tell me you did not just refer to me as “the girl”! I am Ishmael’s partner! Or, at least, I was. It’s complicated.’

  ‘We don’t know anything for certain about you or Ishmael,’ Freddie said accusingly. ‘Everyone else has a clear and obvious reason to be here. We all have established reputations in our chosen fields – as a psychic, a local historian, a ghost-chaser. But you two just turned up out of nowhere claiming to be security, whatever that means. You claim to be representing the buyer of this house, but you haven’t offered any evidence to back that up. Do you honestly expect us to just take your word for it? You could be anybody!’

  Lynn and Tom moved quickly to stand with Freddie. To show their support, or because there’s safety in numbers. They all stared challengingly at me and Penny. I stared calmly back.

  ‘I’m the only one who seems convinced there is a killer,’ I said.

  ‘What better way to divert our suspicions?’ said
Freddie.

  ‘I always knew there was something strange about you, Ishmael,’ said Lynn.

  ‘Maybe they’re really here for the treasure,’ said Tom.

  ‘Or they’re in league with whatever’s in the house,’ said Freddie. ‘None of the weird stuff started happening until they turned up.’

  ‘If we had come here intending to kill Arthur,’ I said patiently, ‘we wouldn’t have done it in front of a whole crowd of witnesses, would we?’

  ‘Murderers really don’t like to stand out and be noticed,’ said Penny. ‘In our experience.’

  ‘Whatever that is,’ Freddie said darkly.

  ‘If you don’t have anything to hide, why don’t you tell us what you and Ishmael were quarrelling about?’ said Tom. ‘Why you suddenly stopped talking to each other?’

  ‘I forgot her birthday,’ I said.

  ‘Even after I reminded him,’ said Penny, not missing a beat.

  ‘Ah,’ said Tom. ‘Yes … that would do it.’

  ‘You believe them?’ said Freddie.

  Tom shrugged helplessly. ‘They’re not acting like killers.’

  ‘Killers rarely do,’ said Freddie. ‘In my experience.’

  ‘Which is?’ I said politely.

  ‘Far too much television, probably,’ said Lynn.

  ‘I watch a lot of cop shows,’ said Tom. ‘For a murder, they always say you need to establish motive, means and opportunity. So, let’s start with motive. Which one of us could have had a reason to want Arthur dead?’

  ‘He was very irritating,’ said Lynn.

  ‘He was a reporter,’ said Freddie.

  ‘But none of us had even met Arthur before tonight,’ said Lynn. ‘Unless someone has been keeping it to themselves …’

  There was a general shaking of heads.

  ‘I think Arthur would have mentioned that,’ said Tom.

  ‘And he was very emphatic that he only came here because his editor insisted,’ said Penny.

  ‘We all have our own reasons for being here,’ said Lynn.

  ‘Very different reasons,’ said Tom.

  ‘The only thing we all have in common is Harrow House,’ said Freddie.

  ‘Not just the house,’ said Tom. ‘We’re all fascinated by the mystery of why so many strange things have happened here. Arthur said he’d done a lot of research on the subject; perhaps he uncovered something that someone else didn’t want revealed.’

  ‘Oh, he’s good,’ said Arthur.

  ‘What if he did?’ said Lynn. ‘There have been any number of books written about the strange history of Harrow House. And a television documentary. What could Arthur have dug up that everyone else missed?’

  ‘Perhaps something only his family knew, which they didn’t want made public,’ said Tom. ‘Things they were ready to tell him that they could never reveal to anyone else. What if someone in his family was worried we might uncover something that would damage their reputation?’

  ‘This is such bullshit,’ said Arthur. ‘My family doesn’t know anything, because they don’t want to know anything. And we haven’t had a reputation worth speaking of in generations.’

  ‘Hush,’ I said.

  ‘Stop telling me to hush! I’m supposed to be your partner!’

  ‘Then be helpful, and hush,’ I said.

  ‘I’m going off you.’

  ‘Arthur could have been sent here with instructions to protect his family’s reputation at all costs,’ said Tom.

  ‘What reputation?’ said Freddie. ‘Everyone knows old Malcolm Welles was a monster. Or kept a monster in his cellar. Or something like that.’

  ‘I’m not sure where this is going,’ said Penny. ‘Are you suggesting Arthur had a reason to kill one of us, and that the murderer acted out of self-defence?’

  ‘It doesn’t sound very likely, does it?’ said Tom.

  ‘So we’re back to someone who came here intending to murder Arthur,’ said Freddie. ‘But killing him in plain sight, in such an impossible manner, would take a lot of advance planning, wouldn’t it?’

  ‘Good point,’ I said. ‘But try this one on for size … Each one of you had a vested interest in the haunting of Harrow House turning out to be real. What if Arthur could have proved that it wasn’t?’

  ‘I didn’t have any proof that it wasn’t,’ said Arthur.

  ‘You all had something to lose,’ I said, ignoring Arthur. ‘If you spent the night in the most haunted house in Bath, and then had to admit in the morning that nothing happened, what would that do to your reputations? What better way to add to the mystery of Harrow House than to set up an impossible murder?’

  ‘That makes no sense at all,’ said Tom.

  ‘Damn right!’ said Freddie. ‘We’ve experienced all kinds of strange stuff, and been made to see things that weren’t actually there, by a force none of us understands. We didn’t need to add anything; Harrow House is weird enough as it is.’

  ‘Ah, well,’ I said, ‘it was just a theory. No doubt we’ll work our way through a whole lot more before morning.’

  ‘But you do accept that supernatural events have occurred in this house tonight?’ said Freddie.

  I was careful not to look at Arthur.

  ‘Something is definitely going on here,’ I said. ‘But there’s no hard evidence yet as to what it might be.’

  Freddie snorted loudly. ‘You’re as bad as Tom. You want to fit everything into neat little boxes and nail down the lids. Science doesn’t have all the answers. Neither does magic, but at least we’re honest about it.’

  ‘I don’t need all the answers,’ I said. ‘Just a few would do.’

  ‘If we can’t come up with a motive,’ said Tom, ‘maybe we’ll have better luck with opportunity. We were all right there with Arthur when he died, and some of us were closer than others.’

  ‘Why are you looking at me?’ said Lynn. ‘Arthur was holding my hand when he died, and Ishmael had hold of my other hand. There was no way I could have done anything!’

  ‘None of us could,’ said Freddie.

  ‘But no one else could have got to him,’ said Tom. He frowned, thinking hard. ‘We were all concentrating on the darkness in the doorway … Could someone have set that up to make sure we wouldn’t see exactly how Arthur died?’

  I raised a mental eyebrow at that. Why would Tom ask the question when he was the only one with the scientific background to arrange such a thing?

  ‘It’s clear from your recording that the dark was just the house messing with our heads,’ said Freddie. ‘Or are you suggesting the house is connected to the killer in some way?’

  ‘Give me time,’ said Tom. ‘It’s just a theory …’

  ‘The dark only distracted us for a few moments,’ said Lynn. ‘How could anyone have killed Arthur that quickly? I still say he died of fright. He simply didn’t have our experience when the moment came to face the unknown.’

  ‘I was not scared!’ Arthur said loudly. ‘I was just interested! I know … hush.’

  ‘So we can’t prove opportunity,’ Tom said heavily. ‘That just leaves method. How could Arthur have been killed?’

  He looked around hopefully, but no one had anything to offer. Lynn looked coldly at me.

  ‘You’re hiding something, Ishmael. I can tell.’

  ‘You don’t have to be psychic to guess that,’ I said easily. ‘But it’s nothing to do with Arthur’s death. Penny and I were sent here by a private security operation, in case someone was trying to use this house’s reputation to embarrass our client, the prospective buyer.’

  Lynn shook her head. She had that strange fey look in her eyes again.

  ‘There’s something out of the ordinary about you,’ she said slowly, almost dreamily. ‘As though there’s more to you than the rest of us.’

  ‘I said that!’ said Freddie.

  ‘But what does it mean?’ said Tom.

  Lynn fixed me with her unblinking gaze. Her eyes were very bright, in their dark bed of mascara. ‘Ishmael isn�
��t just Ishmael. There’s someone else, looking out from behind his eyes …’

  ‘OK …’ said Freddie. ‘Someone needs a time-out and a lie down with a cold cloth over their eyes.’

  ‘I suggest we all take a break,’ I said. ‘And give some serious thought to what we’ve been discussing.’

  Everyone settled back down in their chairs, intent on their own thoughts. No one looked obviously guilty, or even particularly innocent. I looked hopefully at Penny, sitting stiffly in the chair furthest from me, but she was still refusing to make eye contact. I turned to Arthur.

  ‘Don’t look at me,’ he said immediately. ‘I’m as baffled by what’s going on as the rest of you.’

  ‘You’ve been watching their auras,’ I said. ‘Was anyone lying?’

  ‘Not as such,’ said Arthur. ‘It was more like they were all choosing their words really carefully, so they wouldn’t have to lie. If you want my opinion, every single one of them looks guilty as hell. Though that could just be me. Ever since I was murdered, I’ve not been in the most generous of moods.’

  ‘Were you ever?’ I said.

  ‘Leave me alone. I’m dead. I’m allowed to be grumpy.’

  ‘Don’t you want to help find your killer?’

  ‘You know I do!’ Arthur kicked a chair in his frustration, and then swore viciously as his foot sailed right through it. ‘But this kind of thing isn’t what I do! I’m a journalist, not a detective. Or at least I was. I was a lot of things that I’ll never be again. I used to be all about doing the research and talking to the right people, and then putting the pieces together until I had a story, but we don’t have the time or the resources for that. I’m not much use to you as a partner, am I?’ He sighed heavily, which was actually quite disturbing from someone who didn’t need to breathe. ‘Look … Ishmael … go and make up with Penny. You need her.’

  I looked at Penny. It seemed like a very long way to the other side of the room.

  ‘She feels bad about being apart from you,’ Arthur said quietly. ‘I don’t need to read her aura to know that. I lost my chance with Freddie; don’t you make the same mistake.’

  I nodded, and walked steadily over to stand before Penny. She looked right through me.

  ‘Penny?’ I said. ‘We need to talk.’