Ash (3 page)

‘Below?’

‘Some of our medical facilities extend to the castle’s basement area. A long time ago, these rooms were cells –
oubliettes
, they used to be called – but of course now they’ve been converted into very comfortable suites.’

‘Okay.’ The word was drawn out, as if Ash were considering the information. ‘So for one night the castle had a blackout. Obviously, there’s something more you want to tell me.’

‘Oh, believe me, Mr Ash, there’s much more to be told. I want to proceed with the incidents in the order they transpired.’

Noting that her investigator still looked worse for wear, Kate broke in, turning to the prospective client first. ‘I’m sure you’d like more coffee, Simon.’

Ash guessed the coffee was really meant for him. Did he honestly look that bad this morning?

Maseby declined the offer, but Ash nodded his head gratefully. ‘Yeah, I could use a refresher. You know I’m not at my best this time of day.’

He meant the last remark as a self-deprecatory comment, but Kate didn’t smile. Instead, she pushed a button on the desk’s intercom and spoke to her secretary.

What Ash really needed was a cigarette, but ridiculously that would be illegal now that smoking in offices, restaurants, pubs and theatres was banned. The lack left him a little shaky at times. Like now, even though he’d made the decision that tomorrow he would give them up.

Releasing the button, Kate said to her old friend, ‘Please continue, Simon.’

Maseby’s appraising eyes suggested he knew the coffee was a lifebelt thrown to this unshaven, tousle-haired individual she claimed was the Institute’s best psychic investigator. But Kate really wouldn’t have recommended Ash if she had any doubts about his ability.

‘Now we think,’ Maseby said as he gave a small tug at the trouser leg stretched too tightly over his knee, ‘that was the beginning of it all. You see, the same thing happened over the following two nights, even though the castle’s electrical circuits had been tested and the generators checked. No malfunctions were found in any of the systems.

‘Three nights in all, Mr Ash. Now tell me nothing unnatural is going on at Comraich.’

Ash gave him a humourless grin of repentance. ‘You’re right. If it happened three nights running, then I’d be concerned.’

‘And on the third night, a terrible stench came with the darkness, as if the air itself had been contaminated. Some of the guests, as well as members of staff, became nauseous because of it. Even when the lights returned and the fires regained their heat, the putrid odour lingered so that windows had to be opened to let the sea wind sweep through and cleanse the place of its stench.’

‘I admit, it’s puzzling,’ commented Ash, ‘but it isn’t necessarily proof of a haunting.’

The office’s side door opened and a young man entered carrying a tray bearing two cups and saucers, a tiny jug of milk and a cafetière. He gave Ash a quick nod hello and settled the tray on Kate’s desk where she’d cleared a space.

‘Thank you, Tom.’ She passed the used cups to her PA and he left the room, heeling the connecting door shut behind him.

Ash gratefully accepted his coffee and burned his top lip taking a sip too soon. Nevertheless, he took another sip, the heat and caffeine working its way into his system. He picked up from where the conversation had left off. ‘I assume the castle drains were inspected as well as the electrical circuits?’

Maseby was emphatic. ‘Everything that could be checked
was
checked. No fault was found in either utility. There was nothing to explain the stench, and the castle’s wiring was functioning properly.’

He lowered his voice, controlling his sudden exasperation. The investigator was meant to pose questions and hopefully
rationalize
what he heard. When neither happened, Maseby ploughed on. ‘I was called up to Comraich and I witnessed the next incident myself.’

Ash froze with his cup halfway to his lips. He was interested in hearing Maseby’s personal viewpoint on what was happening in the Scottish castle and whether or not it could be defined as a ‘haunting’.

Kate studied Ash’s face, waiting for some kind of reaction. But, as always, the investigator gave nothing away.

‘On this occasion,’ Maseby was continuing, ‘the castle’s CEO, Sir Victor Haelstrom, and I were in his ground-floor office when we heard a terrible racket coming from next door, where his secretarial staff are. It sounded like somebody was trying to wreck the place. There were bangs and crashes and one of the women was screaming. We rushed through the connecting door and we both ducked instinctively as a chair came flying towards our heads. Fortunately it missed, but the sight that we came upon was alarming to say the least. The three typists and Sir Victor’s PA – it was she who was screaming – were huddled together in a corner of the room, while the general manager Andrew Derriman was sprawled on the floor, blood spilling from a wound to his head. He was trying to rise but every time he was on one knee, a heavy piece of furniture skimmed across the room as though purposely aimed at him. He was knocked down again and again. Furthermore there were some black orbs flying around the room. Where they came from we’re not sure. They’re not part of the office furniture.’

Kate and Ash glanced at each other.

‘Paintings and photographs were dropping from the walls as if caused by a seismic shock. A computer on another desk kept switching itself on and off, even though its plug had been yanked from the wall socket. The fax machine was spewing out plain paper and, even when emptied, the mechanical process continued. It was the same with the copier, light constantly flashing on and off.’

‘Poltergeists?’ Ash aimed the suggestion at Kate, who shook her head.

‘There’s more to tell,’ she said quietly.

Maseby took his cue. ‘I stayed on at Comraich for a further week, just to be around should there be any more incidents. There weren’t. Everything became normal again, so I left, only to be called back the very next week. The lights had begun dimming again, but this time it was different.’

‘In what way?’ Ash enquired.

‘This time the lights, having almost faded to darkness, suddenly grew bright, then brighter, until it was impossible to look at them for more than a split second. In less than a minute the lights radiated so much power that the bulbs began to pop, showering the people below with fragments of hot glass.’

Ash frowned. ‘Anyone badly hurt?’

‘Some of the clients and a couple of maids suffered minor cuts to their faces, but no one was seriously injured. It was a miracle no one was blinded; they had instinctively closed their eyes when the bulbs exploded.’

‘I’ve already suggested to Simon,’ said Kate, ‘that it might be a paranormal storm, with so many bizarre episodes happening one after the other.’

‘Possibly. But what instigated it if that were the case?’ Ash looked to Maseby for an answer.

‘I have no idea, and I’m surprised you’d think I would know. Nothing’s changed at Comraich Castle recently, and there haven’t been any new guests for quite some time.’ He avoided Ash’s eyes. ‘Except for one,’ he finished quietly.

‘Has anyone – residents or staff – witnessed manifestations of any kind, aside from those that you’ve mentioned?’

‘Ghosts, you mean.’

‘Not necessarily. It could be anything from a floating mist inside the building to noises, banging, knocking, tapping, voices. Hazy, or even solid, figures that suddenly appear and then disappear, or pass through walls, or float up or down rooms or corridors. Shouts, screams. Disembodied hands, heads, and torsos. There can be any manner of anomalous disturbances created by other-worldly influences. But what I really want to know is, has anybody at Comraich Castle actually encountered the spirit of someone supposedly dead?’

Maseby considered the question for a few moments. ‘It seems not,’ he said at last. ‘But I myself have definitely felt cold spots, especially in the rooms and passageways beneath the castle.’

‘Old dungeons?’

‘As I told you before, old dungeons converted into comfortable quarters for some of our guests. We also have medical facilities down there.’

Ash regarded him curiously.

Maseby explained. ‘Several of our guests are not quite sound of mind, and we tend to keep them apart from our other residents. But getting back to the point: yes, I have experienced so-called cold spots in areas below ground and that doesn’t surprise me, because the castle is built on top of a promontory over the sea, and there is supposed to be a network of tunnels leading down to caves on the shoreline.’

‘Okay, so that’s easily explained. There can be any number of reasons for cold zones in the main part of buildings. A lot of structures, particularly
ancient
ones, and especially stone-built castles, have perfectly natural cold spots caused by draughts through the cracks in the masonry, or poor joints and crooked doors, gaps in the flooring, bricked-up chimneys or those still open, worn woodwork around windows, and leaky roofs. The list goes on.’

‘I understand that. But in one or two, there . . .’ Maseby considered his own words. ‘Well, there is a . . .’ Now he shook his head, a pragmatist searching for a way to describe the improbable. ‘I suppose you might call it an “atmosphere”.’

‘A presence?’ Kate prompted.

‘I’m not sure. Something even more intangible than that. It left me feeling very uneasy, you know, like icy spiders’ legs down the spine.’

‘Just a feeling, though,’ said Ash. ‘You didn’t actually see anything odd, anything out of place?’

Maseby bit down on his lower lip like a child thinking on a problem. ‘No. No I didn’t. But others have.’

Both Kate and Ash straightened a little, as if suddenly more alert.

‘You didn’t tell me, Simon,’ Kate reproved him.

‘I was about to when Mr Ash arrived. Besides, I haven’t given it much credence. The eyewitness is – how should I put it? – uh, a less than reliable witness at present.’

‘In what way?’ Ash enquired.

‘If I’m to answer that, I must remind you yet again that this is all highly confidential.’

Although intrigued by the man’s caution, Ash nodded agreement. ‘That’s already understood.’

‘I mentioned Comraich has lower-level units for certain guests who necessarily have to be segregated from the rest of the residents for a while. Their mental state is too delicate to have them mix with others in the castle. It was one such confined person who claimed to have been visited by a ghost in his room for several nights running.’

‘If by less than reliable you mean this person is insane, he might even be seeing pink elephants dancing on the ceiling.’

Maseby made it clear from his expression that he didn’t appreciate the flippancy, even though Ash hadn’t meant his comment to be taken that way. If someone was crazy, then obviously they might imagine crazy things.

‘Can you let me have his name for my notes?’ Ash reached for the microcassette player he always kept handy in his jacket pocket. ‘And can I record this conversation?’

Maseby seemed to bridle, as if both requests were an impertinence.

‘There will be no record of our conversation. Even if you accept the assignment – which I gather you will by those two questions – nothing is to be put down on tape.’

‘I’ll need to use it when I begin my investigation.’

‘I understand that. But Kate and I have agreed all such recordings will be the property of the organization I represent. That will also include written reports.’

Ash stared at Kate in amazement, as if she’d made a false promise to this irritating friend of hers.

‘Simon is correct,’ she concurred. ‘We won’t even keep a written report for our own files.’

‘But that can’t be right,’ Ash protested. ‘It’s not what the Institute is about.’

‘Must we go through all this again?’ Maseby had directed his impatience towards Kate.

She sighed. Before Ash’s arrival, the meeting with Simon had stalled precisely on this point. The Institute documented
every
investigation, whether successful or not, but her old friend had eventually persuaded her that this must be an exception, and with further revelations she understood why. Besides, the reward for the venture, satisfactory or not, really was
too
good to be dismissed.

She addressed her senior investigator, her voice as firm as her expression. ‘David, once the investigation is underway you’ll understand why the secrecy. I can assure you, when you visit Comraich Castle, you’ll be told everything you need to know. Isn’t that right, Simon?’

Ash wondered why Kate appeared to need further assurances from Maseby.

‘Absolutely.’ Maseby tentatively clasped his hands together as if a deal had already been struck.

Slipping the microcassette player back into his pocket, Ash gave a short nod of his head. ‘All right, no names for now and all notes and reports to be handed over to you, Mr Maseby.’

‘Please, call me Simon.’ The smart-suited consultant seemed satisfied.

Ash didn’t accept the familiarity. ‘So, Mr Maseby, this unnamed guest kept in the rooms below ground claims he saw a ghost several nights running?’

‘That’s right.’

‘And he still maintains it’s true. I assume he was thoroughly questioned after each occasion?’

‘He was indeed.’

‘Obviously I’ll have to talk to him myself.’

‘Unfortunately, he is no longer capable of answering questions.’

Once more Ash raised his eyebrows. His next question was deliberately blunt. ‘He’s out of his head? Have these alleged hauntings tipped him over the edge or was he already insane?’

‘It’s even more serious than that,’ the reply came back instantly. ‘The poor man has been physically injured and is now in a catatonic state of shock.’

‘Are you saying he has self-harmed?’ asked Kate. She and Ash had shared glances.

‘If only it were that simple.’ Maseby slowly shook his head as if from sadness. ‘His injuries are not of his own making. There’s the mystery, you see.’

He held up a hand, palm forward, to ward off further questions. ‘Let me elucidate –
if
I can.’

Ash leaned back in his chair and said nothing. Kate, too, kept silent.