05 - Mistletoe and Murder (16 page)

Clara was going to her room for a
cardigan – she felt very cold – when she bumped into Oliver in the corridor. He
was studying the big camera he had left set up ready to take a picture of the
ghost. He looked up at Clara as she entered.

“I can’t understand why it
didn’t go off.” He motioned to the camera, “Or rather I can understand it, I
just can’t figure out how it happened.”

Clara came over.

“How was it supposed to work?”
She asked.

“Well, here is this cord,
which is connected to the lens cap. When the cord is pulled the lens cap is
jolted off and the camera can take a long exposure in the low light. To trigger
the cord, it is attached to a tripwire of Andrews’ design. Theoretically anyone
snapping the tripwire would jerk the cord and remove the lens cap. We tested it
countless times yesterday and it worked every time. Which is why I couldn’t
fathom that I had no picture this morning. Even if the ghost had not triggered
it, Jones surely would have. So that is why I took a closer look.”

Oliver pointed to the cord
hanging from the lens cap. Clara followed his finger, tracing the cord with her
eyes until she saw what had confused him so.

“It’s been cut.” She said.

“Precisely. It’s been
sabotaged.”

“Hmm.” Clara smiled, “If ever
I needed proof to demonstrate this ghost was a real person, here it is.”

“You think the ghost, or
rather the person pretending to be the ghost, did this?”

“I would say more likely our
ghost has an accomplice. This is intriguing. But who might it be?”

Oliver was still staring
glumly at the camera cord.

“That puts paid to
photographing a real ghost then.” He sighed, “Even if I set it up without the
camera being sabotaged, I’ll only get a picture of a living person.”

“Sorry to disappoint.” Clara
stared at his sad face and felt it summed up the feelings in the household, and
that would just not do, especially at Christmas, “Look here Oliver, this whole
house is down in the dumps. What do you say we attempt to give it a bit of
Christmas cheer?”

Oliver looked at her
curiously.

“I’m sure there are still some
shops open. We’ll get some holly and a wreath or two, and a tree. How can a
house not have a tree at Christmas?” Clara was getting into full swing, “It’s
no good us all sitting around moping, particularly Miss Sampford, she looks
quite frail suddenly. All this bad business has disturbed her and she needs
something to brighten her up, else the ghost may just achieve its end after
all.”

“All right, you have me
convinced.” Oliver grinned.

“Good, you round up Tommy,
I’ll find Annie and we’ll make a party of it.”

She ushered Oliver off to the
stairs and followed behind, feeling for the first time that week that she was
taking charge of matters. Just as she was feeling quite jolly a sneeze overtook
her and she had to blow her nose hard into her hanky. Damn cold, she puttered
to herself, as she hastened downstairs.

~~*~~

It was just on midday when
Miss Sampford opened her front door and was greeted with an array of green and
red. Holly garlands decorated the bannisters of the stairs and mistletoe hung
down from the lamp in the ceiling. Paper chains in rich gold and red shiny
paper hung over the picture frames and a merry looking Father Christmas made of
wax and dressed in real velvet stood on the hall stand. He beamed at Miss
Sampford as his great sack of presents hung over his shoulder.

Humphry was standing in the
centre of it all wearing a paper crown. Miss Sampford stared at him aghast.

“Your coat madam?” Humphry
held out his arms to receive her outer wear.

“What do you have on your
head, Humphry?” Miss Sampford asked, stifling a giggle.

“Miss Fitzgerald insisted.”
Humphry frowned, “Should I remove it?”

“No, it rather suits you.”
Miss Sampford handed him her coat, “Where is everyone?”

“In the dining room, madam.”

Miss Sampford opened the door
to her dining room and received her second surprise. A fire blazed heartily in
the hearth, hanging above it were a series of stockings and more holly. In fact
holly garlands decorated the entire room; around the mirror and paintings,
sitting on the windowsills, there were even sprigs on the table, tucked among
Christmas crackers and tiny golden reindeer that were frolicking among the
cutlery. Yet, most impressive of all, was the huge fir tree sitting in the
corner. It was adorned with candles and huge glass baubles, and right at the
top an angel dressed in ivory silk. Miss Sampford stared and stared but she
could not quite take in the sight of all the decorations.

“Do you approve?” Clara asked
a tad nervously, coming alongside Miss Sampford, “I rather took it upon myself
to make everything a bit more festive.”

“Bless you.” Miss Sampford
said in a hushed tone. She pressed a hand to her lips as a small sob threatened
to slip out, “Thank you Clara.”

“No ghost is going to stop us
enjoying Christmas.” Clara winked at her.

Miss Sampford had to blink
back tears.

“Now, I suggest we sit down
for I know Mrs James has been working hard downstairs.” Clara showed Miss
Sampford to her seat and soon everyone was at the table, including Bridget
Harper and Captain Adams. Clara felt it best everyone be present, which had
meant insisting Amelia be coaxed out of her room by Elijah. She was sitting at
her place looking very morose, but how else was one supposed to look after
losing one’s husband?

“You do have a flare for
surprises Miss Fitzgerald.” Edward Sampford said as he took his seat beside his
wife, “It does look very nice, mind you.”

“I made the paper chains.” Elijah
grinned at them all, “And mother said I learned nothing at university.”

Humphry went about the table
offering wine to the guests. A few moments later a bell rang and he hurried to
open the dining room doors. There stood Mrs James proudly bearing a huge turkey
on a platter. She was also wearing a paper crown. Behind her came Jane and Flo,
each with serving bowls full of vegetables and stuffing balls. Mrs James set
her turkey on the table and hurried to fetch the gravy while Humphry carved. Tommy
started up a rousing rendition of Good King Wenceslas and soon most were
joining in. By the time they had settled again each had a plate laden with
food.

“I must say, this is one of
the nicer Christmas days I have spent in a long time.” Andrews said as he
sliced into a roast parsnip, “Despite the events of last night.”

A pall fell over the meal at
the reminder of Simon Jones.

“Did he have family?” Miss
Sampford asked with apprehension.

“No, he was a bachelor like
myself.” Andrews answered, “I suppose that was why we were able to devote so
much energy to the pursuit of ghosts. Neither of us had any other constraints
on our time.”

“Does no one care about
William Henry?” Amelia suddenly burst into the discussion, her face reddened
with emotion, her lip trembling, “He was
my
family.”

“Yes, my dear, we don’t mean
to dismiss your loss.” Hilda Sampford stretched her hand out to Amelia, “We are
just trying to make the best of things.”

“Best? There is no ‘best’. And
that poor man last night.” Amelia dug in a pocket for a handkerchief and dabbed
at her eyes, “Something hideous is in this house.”

“I am beginning to think it
might be an Elemental.” Andrews interjected, completely missing the tension
suddenly fallen upon the table, “It would explain a lot.”

“And what is an ‘Elemental’?”
Edward Sampford politely asked.

“An exact definition is hard
to give, but many feel they are ancient forces, perhaps associated with the
nature spirts our ancestors believed in. They have never existed as a person;
rather they are a force or energy, stirred up usually by human activity. They
can be harmless if left undisturbed, but aggressive when challenged.”

“And they are dangerous?”

“Generally, yes.” Andrews
stated very matter-of-factly, “They can even be considered evil, but usually
they will just wander about harming no one unless someone gets in their way.”

“But, why does it keep trying
to get into my room?” Miss Sampford said suddenly, “I am certain it has tried
on more than one occasion. It is almost beyond what my nerves can bear.”

“The whims of an Elemental are
difficult to understand. Your room may just happen to be on the route it
chooses to walk.”

Clara found all her attention
focused on Miss Sampford. The woman who, for a brief moment, had seemed lifted
from her fears suddenly seemed to have shrunk and gone an awful grey colour.
She no longer ate her food with pleasure, but picked at it miserably.

“Might I make a suggestion?”
Clara asked.

“Go ahead,” Miss Sampford
answered quietly.

“Well, supposing we change
bedrooms you and I. Your room is nearest the back stairs, mine is furthest
away. I would be intrigued to see an Elemental, while you would be much happier
in a non-haunted room.”

“Thank you Clara, but I
couldn’t possibly impose.”

“Nonsense.” Clara insisted,
“It will be my pleasure. You need a good night’s sleep and I am perfectly
capable of fending off a ghost.”

“I would warn you, Elementals
are dangerous.” Andrews piped up. Clara ignored him.

“Well Miss Sampford?”

“It would be good to have a
restful night.” Miss Sampford agreed slowly, “But I would be mortified if
anything were to happen to you Clara.”

“Nothing will happen to me, of
that I am certain.” Clara smiled, “So it is agreed, we switch rooms?”

A little bit of colour
returned to Miss Sampford’s face.

“That sounds most agreeable.”

At that moment the dining room
doors burst open and Mrs James walked in bearing aloft a Christmas pudding
haloed in whisky-fuelled flames. It was the biggest pudding Clara had seen in
some time and there was a huge jug of brandy sauce to accompany it. Oliver
grabbed a cracker off the table and waved it at Tommy. Tommy took the end and
pulled, there was a bang and the guests cheered. Soon nearly everyone was
pulling at their crackers and the room filled with booms and the strangely
sulphuric smell of the explosive strip.

Clara nearly choked herself on
her portion of Christmas pudding and spat out a small silver farthing. She
examined it in the palm of her hand.

“It’s good luck to find it.”
Miss Sampford smiled at her.

Clara had the overwhelming
desire to hug the woman and tell her everything was going to be all right.
Instead she put down the coin and smiled back. She would solve this mystery
come what may.

After dinner the guests
retired to the drawing room, where most either fell asleep in their chairs or
smoked. Amelia disappeared to her room once more, not that anyone really
noticed her going. Clara took Miss Sampford to one side so they could speak
privately.

“I have a plan, Miss Sampford.
Actually, I have already put it into action.”

“Really?” Miss Sampford asked
eagerly.

“I suggested we switch rooms
over the dinner table so everyone would hear. You see, I am confident this
ghost has an accomplice within your household, but rooting them out is more
problematic.”

“One of my guests?”

“I think so, but I can’t be
absolutely certain without laying a trap or two.”

“And this is why you suggested
switching rooms?” Miss Sampford clarified.

“Yes, you see, by saying about
us switching rooms out loud, if there is an accomplice in this house they now
know you will not be in your own room tonight. If the ghost, therefore, wishes
to seek you out, they must go to a different room and if they do that then once
and for all we know this ghost is a living person who had an accomplice sitting
around the dinner table.”

“And if they don’t, if they
still come to my old room you will be convinced they are a ghost?”

“Or that their accomplice was
not at dinner. Do you understand my logic?”

“I do, but should you be right
about this ghost being a living person I will still be in danger?” Miss
Sampford went pale.

“Absolutely not.” Clara
assured her, “Because we are not actually going to change rooms, only appear
to. You will sleep in your own room and Annie will stay with you. In that way
you only have to fear a silly old ghost. On the other hand I will be ready and
waiting for any person headed your way.”

“It’s all so risky Clara.”

“Don’t worry about me. It is
you I am concerned with. We have had two deaths in this household in the space
of two days. I don’t intend to let this mischief continue.”

Miss Sampford suddenly felt a
tad faint and had to lean back against an occasional table to keep her balance.

“I just don’t understand why
this ghost continues to haunt my home with everyone around. If it is a living
person, surely they would have the sense to avoid the house while I have ghost
hunters and detectives in residence?”

“But then we would know at
once that the ghost
was
a real person. If we accept such a thing as
ghosts, we should also accept that they have no interest or concerns about
ghost hunters or the like. Should your ghost suddenly vanish with the arrival
of people, then that would imply it had some sort of consciousness and did not
want to be seen. And only living, breathing people react in such ways. Whoever
is behind this crime does not want people to start imagining the ghost is a
fabrication, it scuppers their entire plan, whether that be to scare you from
your home or worse. Therefore they
have
to keep putting on the
performance, or else raise suspicions that the ghost isn’t genuine.”

“That is surely so risky?”
Miss Sampford said.

“Yes, but supposing they could
convinced Mr Andrews there really was a ghost. Then it would be fixed in
peoples’ minds that the property was haunted and should anything happen to you
it might be looked upon as the actions of a ghost rather than a living
murderer.”