Ghostly Images

by Peter Townsend

  His instinct was to lift her up and carry her. He was strong enough to do it without any problem, even on the very soft and powdery sand, but he realised the police would expect her body to remain at the scene.

  He thought it wise not to mention knowing Eleanor to either the couple or the police considering Mr and Mrs Jenkins dire opinion of the police and of Chief Constable Len Tanner in particular.

  David got to his feet. The couple had already started walking away. He caught up with them. The frail-looking man struggled to support his female companion. Incoherent mumbles came from her lips. When they finally reached the pier, David saw Ben Updike come out from the amusement arcade to smoke a cigarette.

  Ben looked up. “Is anything wrong, lad?” he asked David. “You look like you’ve seen a ruddy ghost.”

  “They just discovered a woman’s body.”

  “Is she…?”

  “She’s dead,” David confirmed.

  “Has she fallen from the cliffs?”

  David shook his head. “Someone has murdered her.”

  “Tanner usually has a cup of tea in Pier Café. I’ll go and get him.” Ben tossed his cigarette to the ground and ran.

  A few minutes later, David saw two police officers with Ben. David remembered Tanner from earlier in the year when he was investigating the trade in indecent photographs. David had also seen the younger officer who accompanied the chief now but couldn’t remember his name.

  The chief constable took some details from the couple and David and asked them to call in at the police station at eight that evening to give a full report.

  “Where’s the body?” Tanner asked, tugging at the chin strap of his helmet. “On second thought, you’d better come along and show us.”

  “The body is at the end of the beach on the rocks near Black Nab. We must hurry. The tide will be in soon.”

  They followed David as the wind increased. Now was the perfect time to do some swimming. He chastised himself for even thinking about it. Several minutes later, he pointed. “The body is just behind that large rock over there.”

  He watched grimly as the two officers approached Eleanor’s body. It was all too difficult to comprehend. He’d taken her photograph with the Tate camera. He didn’t need to take a positive print from the plate to verify the dark blemishes, over her neck, chest, and stomach.

  And now, four days later, she was dead.

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  Chapter 16

  Wednesday 29th August 1894

  BACK AT HIS LODGINGS after his interview with Tanner, David went to the window and drew the curtain open. The silhouette of the pier stood out against the glare of the lamps. Turning his head, he looked into the eerie darkness and Black Nab, where Eleanor’s body was found.

  For David, Whitby had become an ugly place. While Eleanor had done some work with Hood, it didn’t mark her out as a bad person. She was a kind woman who loved her mother and worked hard to earn money to help her cope with the ravages of illness.

  David’s head reeled in shock. He desperately wished he could believe in God and draw some comfort from that, but he could not believe in something so irrational. If only he could find some reassurance, even some flimsy, scientific theory that Eleanor was now in a better world. A place where there was no torment and misery.

  He drew the curtains closed once more. Now, he would have nightmares about discovering Eleanor’s body too. He clasped his hands over his head, pressing his thumbs gently against his temples.

  He’d taken photographs of Elizabeth and Eleanor, and now, they were both dead. That alone could make him a prime suspect. He’d made matters worse for himself by not being honest with the police.

  Hood came to mind. The dark cloak, penetrating black eyes, and the eerie tapping of his cane sent a shiver down David’s back. He decided to see Hood in the morning and end the association with him.

  After that, he wasn’t sure. But he knew the best thing to do would be to leave Whitby. Anywhere would do.

  THE NEXT MORNING, David collected John from his lodgings, and together, they visited Hood’s home in Wilson’s Yard. They climbed the uneven stone steps leading to a flimsy, wooden balcony and the two-storey house with its tiny windows.

  Percy opened the door. When they entered the drawing room, they stood in awe. Books in tall piles littered the floor; most had the unmistakable stamp of the Whitby Library on them. The stench of tobacco filled the air and snakes wriggled in jars and tanks above the two sideboards.

  Hood was sitting and puffing on his pipe and glanced up as if he’d been expecting them to visit. David got straight to the point. “We cannot work for you any longer.”

  Hood grinned. “As Confucius once said, ‘the scholar does not consider gold and jade to be precious treasures...but loyalty and good faith.’ I have treated you well, and in return, you are ungrateful. No. You cannot leave my employ.”

  “We have to,” said John. “You can easily replace us.”

  Hood shrugged and blew out a cloud of pungent smoke.

  “We will pay you back,” said David.

  Hood sucked smoke from his pipe and slowly exhaled. “I fail to see how if you have no employment.”

  “We have to leave Whitby,” insisted David.

  “What about you, John? Do you have to leave Whitby?” Hood placed his pipe down and stood. He approached John, stopping inches away from him.

  John held his hands together and worried his fingernails. “I-I never wanted to work for you.”

  Hood collected his cane resting against the side of his chair. He twisted the handle and removed the sword within and brandished the sword inches away from David and John’s faces. Both men tried to make for the door, but Percy stood there, knife in hand.

  “Let me demonstrate the consequences of disloyalty, sirs.” A wicked smile came to Hood’s lips. “In these tanks and jars are some harmless snakes. But there are deadly snakes as well.” John took a step backwards. “Would you like to go and pick up a snake, John?”

  “No!”

  “I thought you were a man of strength, but you have the firmness of jelly.”

  John closed his eyes in revulsion. “I hate snakes.”

  Hood shook his head and opened the side panel on the tank that said DOOM VIPER and took out the snake. “It is a beautiful creature, sir.” He stroked it for a moment and tenderly returned it to the tank. “Choose a tank or jar, and I will put my hand inside.”

  “You’re joking!” said John in awe.

  Hood smiled again. “I do not joke. Percy can verify to that fact.”

  John pointed to one of the tanks. “That tank on the left...the Mexican Death Snake.”

  Hood rested his hand on the sliding panel on the tank. “This is your last chance to show that you are a man and not a gutless little coward.”

  “You’re only saying that because you know there’s a poisonous snake inside,” insisted John.

  Hood put his hand inside and removed the snake, resting the green-and- yellow flecked reptile gently in his hands. “Perfectly harmless, as you can see.” He put the snake back.

  “I bet the Chief Constable snake in the other tank is harmless as well.”

  Hood sent him a withering glare. “You are welcome to put your hand inside the tank if that is what you believe.”

  John did not reply, and Hood smiled. “Percy!” he shouted. Percy entered the room carrying a small white rabbit. He opened the sliding panel and pushed the rabbit inside with the Chief Constable.

  The white rabbit scurried around the tank where a brown snake lay in the corner. The rabbit stopped and trained its eyes on David and John briefly before playfully rolling over on its back. The rabbit continued to run and roll around until it caught sight of the snake. It sat on its hind legs, staring at the snake as it slithered near. The rabbit’s front legs trembled.

  The snake’s head jolted up from the floor of the cage and lunged at the neck of the rabbit. The rabbit darted to the
other end of the tank, but the snake took a further lunge at the rabbit’s belly.

  David thought the rabbit might be unharmed as it ran around the tank, but suddenly the rabbit looked at him and stopped running. It began to shake. The rabbit started running again, until it hit one end of the tank, making a thumping sound. It clambered to its feet, still shaking. It glanced at David one final time and then fell over on its side.

  Percy opened the cage and removed the dead rabbit with a pole. He tossed the corpse and it landed at David’s feet. “You can have rabbit stew tonight if you’re hungry.”

  David’s stomach heaved and a sick, bitter taste rose in his throat. He reached for a handkerchief and brought this to his mouth. He glanced at John who had turned away and was biting his nails.

  “Loyalty, sirs,” said Hood. “Is that too much to expect?”

  “Do you expect us to be working for you until we’re old and grey?” argued David.

  “I expect your gratitude. I have been generous not only to you but also to Mr and Mrs Jenkins. I stopped their blackmailer Reginald Swan from making any further demands and ensured that Arnold Bailey would do the same.”

  David shook his head. “I don’t believe you.”

  “Mrs Jenkins came to me for help. Naturally, when I found out that she detested Chief Constable Tanner, I was happy to assist...for no fee.”

  “What did you do to Swan?” asked David.

  Hood smiled knowingly at his henchman who returned it with a wide grin. “Percy and I convinced Swan of the error of his ways and took fifteen pounds from him for our troubles, confident that he would never blackmail Mrs Jenkins any further.”

  “You can’t have done anything about Bailey,” David said. “Noel Inman took revenge on him.”

  “You are wrong, sir. I visited Bailey’s studio in Ruswarp with Percy to persuade him to leave the area. We—encouraged—him to draft a letter taking full responsibility for the lewd photographs. His reluctance prompted us to remove three of his teeth from his gums with a pair of pliers. Apart from extracting his teeth, we extracted other information from him. ”

  “What information?” snarled David.

  “Bailey not only had to leave Blackpool for taking lewd photographs there, but he had incensed Noel Inman, a Methodist minister. Bailey had taken nude photographs of Inman’s fourteen-year-old daughter. He had also made her pregnant. Bailey was sure that Inman had set fire to his studio in Staithes. We were going to escort Bailey to the train station a couple of days later, but you know what happened next.”

  David nodded. Inman admitted to the police that he’d murdered Bailey by setting fire to his studio in Ruswarp. He also admitted to setting the fire in Staithes. Inman didn’t stand trial but is being detained indefinitely at the Danby asylum.

  “We still don’t want to work for you,” insisted David.

  “Nonsense!” said Hood. “See how you feel a few months from now. But I warn you…” He pointed his cane at them. “Do not leave Whitby. I have spies in the railway office, contacts in London, and all the towns in Britain. If you were to leave...the odious Mr Tanner might get to know something.”

  “Like what?” David asked.

  “When you had your friendly chat with the chief constable last night, I bet you did not tell him about your meeting with Eleanor. Did you?”

  All David could do was shrug, a small movement, almost a flinch.

  “I know that you visited Lythe Castle the Friday prior to the tour. I saw the flash from your lighting equipment. You spoke to Eleanor. She denied it, of course, but it was obvious you had been there.” He smiled coldly, showing off his amazingly white, even teeth. “Are you mulling over how I know that you did not tell Tanner about seeing Eleanor?”

  David swallowed hard and nodded.

  Hood smirked but did not answer.

  “Did you kill Eleanor?” David wanted to turn the tables on Hood and make him squirm.

  Hood’s red eyelids twitched. “Why on earth would I do that?”

  “She was leaving Whitby—permanently.”

  “Ridiculous! She would have returned to Whitby after a few weeks. Percy would have gone to see her if she stayed away too long. With a little gentle persuasion, she would have returned to Whitby.”

  Hood glanced at the clock. “You need to hurry back to the studio. You have four assignments today. The details are in the envelope with ten shillings to share between you.” He took out an envelope from his pocket and gave it to David. “I was going to deduct wages in view of your bad manners to Samuel West, but in the sad circumstances of Eleanor’s death, I feel it is no longer fitting.”

  David and John quickly left. Hood’s laughter followed them.

  “Go now, my little white rabbits! Run!”

  DAVID AND JOHN LEFT WILSON’S YARD and made their way back to the studio.

  “We’ll have to carry on working for Hood until we can make plans to leave,” said David, clenching his fist.

  “But he’s got contacts all over the country,” moaned John. “Why did you get us mixed up with him in the first place? What are we going to do?”

  David patted John on the back. “I’m sorry, John. I think we might need to look for work in Canada, New Zealand, Australia, or America, even though it means never seeing Mrs Jenkins again.”

  “Or Laura,” added John. He bit at his thumbnail.

  “Consider what he would do to us or anyone we know. We have no other option but to get as far away from Hood as possible.” David had bitten his tongue when John had brought Laura to the theatre and escorted her home. The last thing either of them needed was anything else tying them to Whitby.

  “Eleanor, your chocolate-eating ghost, was real after all. Why didn’t you tell the police that you saw her at the castle?”

  “I should have been honest, but Mr and Mrs Jenkins have said they are not to be trusted.”

  John sighed. “What’s in the envelope?”

  David spied a bench and they went and sat on it. He ripped the envelope open and handed the ten shillings to John and studied the instructions Hood had given him. There were a lot of them.

  “They are all portraits. Charity Baxter needs to see the image of her late sister. Brenda Miller hopes to see the image of her father. Orson Snaith is desperate to see his son. Two Spiritualists want to see the image of their friend. Mr and Mrs Linfold, a recently married couple, hope to see a white glow around both their hearts to signify a long and happy life together.”

  “Apart from the Linfolds, does Hood say what the people looked like?”

  “There are only brief details. Hood says that the files might have a photograph of Brenda Miller’s father. ”

  That afternoon, they took the photographs and processed the plates. David took the photographs with the Tate camera with a one-second exposure each time. He also prepared the chemicals for the darkroom. John developed the plates in the conventional way without any trickery.

  After this was done, David and John worked together on the next stage in the process—faking the images. David found a photograph of Mr Miller taken some years earlier by Marsh. They superimposed this image at the side of the photograph of his daughter.

  While the prints were still damp, John picked up a magnifying glass to check their quality. “I can see tiny white dots on the image of the two Spiritualists. If you join the dots, they form the image of a human face.” John passed the magnifying glass and print to David so he could study the image.

  David shook his head dismissively. “I can’t see anything unusual.”

  “I still think the camera has psychic powers.”

  “Based on the evidence of a few meaningless dots? There’s nothing odd on the glass plates of Baxter, Miller, and the Linfold couple. Is there?”

  “But there was with Elizabeth Betts.”

  “This is tiresome, John. We’ve been through all of the scientific explanations already.”

  John glared at David. “Science has the answer to everything for you. Why d
o you dismiss the paranormal? Don’t you have any faith in anything else, apart from science?”

  David folded his arms. “Like God, the afterlife, and other silly fairy stories?”

  “I have faith in God,” said John, wagging his finger. “I’ll be reunited with my parents in the next life. You may not believe in this, but plenty of other people do.”

  David took a deep breath. He didn’t need an argument with John to add to his headache. “John, science has all the answers, not primitive faith and superstition.”

  Chapter 17

  Thursday 30th August 1894

  HOOD SANK BACK IN HIS CHAIR and sipped whisky from his glass. At intervals, he glanced across to his tank labelled DOOM VIPER. Across from him sat Percy.

  “Aren’t you being too generous with the lads?” asked Percy.

  “David and John will soon fall into line. Ten shillings for a day’s work might seem a lot of money to give them, but I am making a net profit of ten pounds just for today. The noose effect on Silas will get me four guineas alone from Samuel West.”

  Percy stroked his finger across the rim of his empty glass. “We need to keep a close eye on them, especially David.”

  Hood nodded. “For the next few days.”

  Percy brought the knife out from his pocket and stroked the blade before returning it. “With pleasure.”

  “When are we getting the contraband from The Tempest?”

  Percy reached in his pocket and brought out a scrap of paper and read it. “On Friday. She docks at about two o’clock.”

  “Good.” Hood was glad he’d taught Percy to read and write. Percy had been a reluctant pupil, but it proved good for business despite his never showing the slightest inclination to read any of the books Hood had littering his home. He sometimes wished he’d inspired Percy to groom instead. There were traces of food in Percy’s bushy beard. Breadcrumbs. Hood always preferred to be clean-shaven.

  “Do you know why I like you, Percy?”

  Percy whipped out his knife in a flash. “’Cos I’m handy with me knife.”