Cherringham--Scared to Death Read online

  Jack vaguely remembered the name.

  “Yeah. Lost City of Doom?”

  “Very good,” said Basil. “You do know your movies.”

  “Sign of a wasted youth.”

  “Not at all. Sign of an open mind.”

  Jack turned back to the pipes.

  How come the water ran clear, then later turned red? He couldn’t figure it out.

  He followed the water pipes up from the bath, into a boxed-in section of tiles.

  Then he noticed — the grouting had disappeared along the edge of the boxing. All crumbled.

  “When the police came round, did they check this out?” he said, turning to Basil.

  “Good Lord no,” said Basil. “The lad just asked some silly questions, made a few notes and told us not to worry. Most likely just a prank, he said. No harm done.” Basil shook his head. “Stop imagining things — that’s what he really wanted to say, I’m sure of it.”

  Jack nodded, then took out his clasp knife.

  “May I?” he said, pointing to the tiles.

  “Be my guest. How exciting — watching a real detective at work!”

  And Jack eased the knife into the gap between the tiles.

  *

  Sarah stood in the dark attic bedroom and waited while Karina opened the shutters.

  As the weak afternoon light filtered into the room, she could see now why Basil and Alyssia had been so frightened.

  A hangman’s noose, made from thick rope, perfectly knotted, hung from a beam. Even with the window shut, it swayed gently in this draughty attic.

  “So, this was it?” said Sarah. “Nobody’s moved it? No note? No explanation? Just the noose?”

  “What you see is what you get,” said Karina.

  Then she pulled out a pack of cigarettes from her handbag and took out a cigarette and lighter.

  “You mind?”

  Sarah shrugged.

  It wasn’t her house to make the rules.

  She watched as Karina lit her cigarette, then opened the attic window, and leaned against it, the smoke spiralling out into the cold afternoon air.

  “This was a week ago, yes?”

  “More or less.”

  “And who found it?”

  “Um — I did actually.”

  Sarah guessed that this was Karina’s secret smoking room.

  “Ah.”

  “Yes, ah,” said Karina. “Thirty years old but scared Mummy will catch me smoking. Sad aren’t I?”

  Sarah had to wonder … Did Karina escape up here … to indulge in other things?

  “Does anyone else use this room?” said Sarah, ignoring Karina’s comment.

  “Doubt it,” said Karina with a shrug. “I mean — it’s bloody miserable up here isn’t it?”

  “So, whoever did this, they would know that you came up here regularly to smoke — that you would find it?”

  Sarah saw Karina frown.

  “Hmm, you’re right. Bloody hell — do you think this was meant to frighten me?”

  “Did it?”

  “You must be joking. I spent my life — when not at the blessed boarding school — putting up with Daddy’s horror nonsense. Bit of rope doesn’t scare me.”

  “But it scared Basil and Alyssia.”

  “You heard him. Daddy thinks the spirit world wants revenge. Mummy likes to make a drama out of everything.”

  “What about Gordon?” said Sarah. “How did he react?”

  “That loser? I don’t know. I didn’t ask him.”

  “Does he come up here to smoke too?”

  “How the hell should I know?”

  “He’s staying at the house. I assume you know a little bit about him.”

  “Some,” said Karina, with a shrug. “’Spose. Know he likes his drink. Know he needs the money Daddy fronts him, all for the work on this book.”

  “But, I imagine he’s quite useful to have around?”

  “How so?”

  “He was pretty keen on dealing with those journalists at the gate. Even got into a fight. McCloud did you all a favour there, trying to get rid of them.”

  “God, you sure you’re good at this? You really don’t know much at all, do you?” said Karina. “The only reason he did that was because he’s got an exclusive media deal with Daddy and he didn’t want those bastards stealing his story before the book comes out.”

  Interesting, thought Sarah. She doesn’t seem like a big fan of Gordon — but that look between them earlier told a different story.

  “What about the skulls? Who found those?”

  “Dunno,” said Karina. “I was in London. At a party.”

  “Can you show me where they were?”

  She watched Karina roll her eyes, then flick the cigarette out of the window.

  “Look. Don’t know why you’re all wasting your time on this crap. It’s just some stupid geek trying to get off on frightening Daddy.”

  She shut the window then brushed past Sarah to the door.

  “Well, come on then, I haven’t got all day.”

  Charming, thought Sarah, and followed her down the attic stairs.

  *

  “Take a look, Mr Coates,” said Jack, stepping back from the pipework.

  “Basil, m’boy. Please …”

  He watched Basil shuffle forward to the tiled wall.

  “I don’t understand,” he said. “Exactly what am I supposed to be looking at?”

  Jack put his hand on the water pipes.

  “You see here? Somebody’s taken out a section of pipe — and replaced it. Different colour — see? In there, I imagine, is some kind of valve and a plug with dye in it. Probably designed so that the water runs for a while, dissolves the cap, then releases the dye.”

  “Good Lord.”

  “We can get it checked out. Pretty sophisticated,” said Jack. “To be honest, not what I was expecting. Took some skill to set that up.”

  “Very clever.”

  Jack washed his hands and wiped them on a towel, then turned to Basil.

  “You know the kind of person who’d be able to make something like that?”

  He watched Basil shake his head. “Plumber maybe?”

  “Maybe. But you had a film where that happened, yes? And in a film, a special effects guy,” said Jack, “or maybe a good prop man, could easily set it up, hmm?”

  “Ah, yes. I see what you mean.”

  “You think of anybody from your past who might have a grudge?”

  Basil laughed. “Good God, man — I haven’t made a film in thirty years! Nobody holds a grudge that long!”

  Jack watched him carefully. He seemed to be telling the truth. But Basil Coates was a good actor — was he a good liar too?

  Whoever turned that bath red had put some serious time and effort into the stunt.

  But for what? Why?

  One thing was clear. This was no casual bit of pranking. Somebody was working damned hard to frighten the Coates family.

  And frightening people — in Jack’s experience — could easily turn to doing them harm.

  *

  Sarah stepped out onto the terrace at the back of the mansion.

  In the grey late-afternoon light, the view across the ragged grass to distant hills seemed ever more gloomy.

  She turned to Karina, who stood in the kitchen doorway, a coat draped over her shoulders.

  “So where were those skulls?” said Sarah.

  “Down there somewhere, I think, on the lower terrace,” said Karina, pointing to a paved area down some steps. “Look — do you mind? I’ve got to make a phone call.” A quick smile. “You’ll see them. They are skulls after all.”

  And with that, she disappeared back into the house.

  Great, thought Sarah. Thanks for the help.

  She walked across to the steps that led down to the lower terrace.

  She knew the skulls had been taken away, but she wondered if there was any other evidence that might have been missed by Alan.

  S
ure enough, there were marks on the old quarry stone tiles of the terrace: five distinct patches of red.

  What was it? Paint? The dye that had been used in the bath?

  She picked up an old stick, blown by the autumn winds onto the terrace, and used it to mark lines connecting the red marks on the stone. Then she stepped back to see the shape.

  “A pentagram, for sure,” came a man’s voice from behind her.

  She turned, startled, to see a tall elderly man in a long black woollen coat, red scarf neatly tied, hands and face tanned as if he spent more time in warmer climes than the Cotswolds.

  Something familiar about him … A face from the village perhaps?

  “Yes, the ancient sign of the occult, Satanism, black magic,” the man continued, drawing closer, his eyes locked on hers, his voice low. “Though it was of course our old friend Aleister Crowley who popularised it and brought it into the public imagination …”

  “So, what does it mean?” said Sarah, transfixed.

  “Oh, the pentagram can mean many things,” he said, “depending, even, upon which way up it is. In this case, of course, that is decided by your own position here on the terrace. However, I would venture to suggest that the inclusion of human skulls renders the more benign interpretation of the symbol somewhat … unlikely.”

  “Meaning?”

  “The sign is one of perversion and evil. It invites the Devil himself into this house. According to occult lore, it is not something to be trifled with, as you will know if you have read your Faust.”

  The man now stood just a couple of feet from Sarah. She could see he wasn’t joking. This — for him — was serious.

  But, then, as if he had enjoyed the effect he was having, he smiled and winked: “And if you believe that, you’ll believe anything. My name is Val Rayment by the way. And you are?”

  “Sarah Edwards,” said Sarah, grinning as well, the spell broken.

  “Aha — one of the brave investigators! Or foolhardy perhaps!”

  “Perhaps …”

  “And have you found out whodunit? Let me see now, who are the suspects?”

  Sarah watched him stroll across the terrace, seizing it as a stage, and he the lone actor upon it.

  “Basil perhaps — oh he’s a wily old goat for sure. Or could it be Alyssia — the temptress, the still-alluring beauty? Let’s not forget Karina — the dazzling young heiress? Or how about Gordon — our mysterious and learned house-guest?”

  Then he turned to her. “Maybe even the venerable Mrs Foy?”

  “Who do you think?”

  “Me? No butler here, so I’m going with the classic choice. I’d put my money on Maud, the bumbling housekeeper. Oh, she’s a deep one, I’m sure of it! And who knows what old Basil has promised her — in exchange for her loyalty, hmm?”

  Sarah laughed.

  “You’ve forgotten the most obvious one, haven’t you?” she said.

  “Being?” said Val, coming back closer to her. His eyes bright blue against his olive skin.

  “The mysterious stranger in the garden.”

  “Aha! Touché! You have me!” said Val. “The game’s up!”

  Sarah watched him make a mock escape across the terrace — then he turned.

  “But seriously …”

  He came back to her.

  “I shouldn’t mock this, or any of them,” he said. “I know Basil’s pretty upset. We were supposed to chat about his book today — the early days at Anvil. That is clearly beyond him for now. And Alyssia. She does care for the old devil. Do you think you and your American friend can solve this?”

  “I hope so,” said Sarah, shrugging. “Before anything else happens …”

  And as she said those words, she heard a scream from inside the house.

  A woman’s scream. Then another. And the chaotic sound of doors slamming, people running, and voices shouting in fear and alarm.

  “My dear,” said Val. “It sounds as if it already has.”

  And the two of them turned to face the house.

  6. A House of More Horrors

  Sarah ran from the terrace, leaving Val behind, to where she heard shouts and yelling coming from inside the house.

  Once through the French windows, she had to push past a crowd of reporters and “the curious” who had somehow got into the house and were now all crammed inside, drawn by the screams.

  She had a thought: Jack’s in here somewhere. Something’s happened?

  Pranks turned dangerous?

  “Excuse me,” she said, roughly pushing into the crowd. People seemed glued to their spots, wanting to be there to see, but also — apparently — not wanting to get too close.

  When she got to the front she saw Alyssia and Karina hugging each other, as if recoiling. And Basil, his arms outstretched, pointing, hands waving in the air as if they simply couldn’t stay still due to fright.

  And then, a few feet away, Jack.

  “It’s in there!” Basil said loudly. “Just inside.”

  Loud enough that his impromptu audience could hear every word clearly.

  Sarah had no choice. She turned to a woman next to her. No reporter, but a matronly type, handbag clutched, drawn by curiosity and now standing — uninvited of course — in the Hill House hallway.

  “What’s in there?” Sarah asked.

  And then the woman turned as if that was the most idiotic question ever, lips pursed, eyes wide.

  The woman could barely get the word out.

  “The snake!”

  And, for a second, Sarah had to wonder: Some little garden snake wanders in from the garden, and creates all this …

  Tumult?

  But then she saw Jack turn, look at her. His face grim.

  Maybe … not a little garden snake.

  Though the crowd seemed locked in their positions, Sarah slowly walked beside Jack.

  Basil meanwhile kept up his keening, horrified noises, now with his arms tight around both his daughter and wife, but also gazing out at the crowd.

  “The biggest snake I’ve ever seen!”

  Sarah said her next words slowly.

  “Jack — what do we do?”

  “Already called Alan. Guess you must have some kind of wild animal control here. But think — I better take a look.”

  Instinctively her hand went to Jack’s arm.

  “D-don’t you think we should just wait?” She looked around at the crowd. “Maybe get all these people out of here?”

  “Maybe. But—”

  Basil released his sheltering hug of Alyssia and Karina and took a step towards Jack.

  “What if there are more snakes, maybe all around the house!”

  This brought the appropriate reaction from the crowd. Gasps, even a few moans.

  Sarah even saw a few people at the back of the group, melt to the doorway, and then disappear.

  Enough for them.

  Jack turned to Sarah.

  “I better take a look.”

  Sarah had to ask. “You’ve done this before?”

  He smiled at that. “Not exactly. Similar, yes. But, well, not precisely this scenario.”

  And he took a step towards the open double doorway leading into the great entrance hall.

  *

  Jack had hoped to enter the room alone, but he should have guessed that Sarah would follow.

  He stepped slowly, carefully.

  In truth, he didn’t know much about interacting with wild animals, except he guessed it was good to be slow, steady.

  You don’t want to startle anything.

  And then, behind Sarah, a few more brave news people, cameras running, and also a few people from the village.

  All they needed were pitchforks, and the movie scene would be complete.

  “Jack — be careful,” Sarah said, just steps away.

  A nod.

  And he looked around the room. Small, sputtering fire in the fireplace. The room quiet. The grandfather clock ticking, making the most noise in the room.
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br />   Even the crowd of reporters and residents had grown deathly quiet.

  Jack kept looking.

  The snake could be anywhere. Behind the massive sofa, curled up behind a chair, maybe hidden by drapes.

  Snakes were good at hiding, weren’t they?

  Basil had entered. Having raised the alarm, he now came close as well, shoulder to shoulder with Sarah.

  Something about that … interesting, Jack thought.

  But as Jack kept scanning the room, he saw no snake. No movement. And, with a look at Basil, had to wonder.

  Was he at an age where maybe … you imagine things?

  Jack said the words gently.

  “Basil … where exactly did you see the snake?”

  And, as Basil scanned the room, he, too, seemed confused, his head craning left, then right.

  “B-by the book case … then it started moving. Right towards me …”

  The brave lot who came in with Jack made a noise at that.

  “Well,” Jack said, “I don’t—”

  At which point the bald-headed guy who previously wanted a piece of Gordon McCloud when they tussled at the gate, now barged forward, pointed up to the ceiling, and bellowed: “There it is! I see it!”

  *

  Sarah stood at Jack’s shoulder as they both looked up to where the bald man had pointed.

  And even before she saw it, her skin sprouted icy goosebumps.

  A snake.

  This snake — grey, shiny skin coiled around the glass tear drops of the great ceiling light — had to be …

  Six feet … seven feet …

  Eight feet long.

  The words escaped of their own accord.

  “God, Jack.”

  For a moment, no one in the room moved. But it took only seconds for most of “the curious” and the reporters to back away, putting a good deal of space between them and the snake.

  Sarah took a step backwards too.

  But Jack didn’t. Instead, she saw him scanning the room, craning left and right.

  The snake, meanwhile, seemed to have noticed it had an audience, and its triangular head reared up, touching the ceiling, tongue flicking, eyes on the crowd.

  Then, it started to descend from its coiled perch around the light.

  It lowered its arrow-shaped head as if taking aim, its body extending, and Sarah could see it rippling as it slowly uncoiled from the rattling chandelier

  She reached out; grabbed Jack’s arm. “Jack — back up!”