Cherringham--Ghost of a Chance by Neil Richards Read Free Book Online

your Halloween Dinner?”
    “What do you mean? That was an accident, surely …”
    “I doubt that,” said Jack.
    “You’re sure?”
    “I don’t have the luxury of forensics,” said Jack. “But I’ve seen plenty of accidents in the line of duty, Mr. Myrtle. And that was no accident. It was deliberate. Check the nuts, the plate on the ceiling …”
    “But that’s horrible,” said Crispin. “Someone could have been badly hurt.”
    “Someone could have been killed.”
    “God.”
    Jack watched as Crispin seemed to take this in.
    “What should I do?”
    “Go to the police?”
    “No, no, no. Publicity would be dreadful. It would kill this old place.”
    “Your call.”
    “And what if I asked you to carry on?”
    “Like I said, we’ve been dealing with your father.”
    Then Crispin looked around quickly, as if to check nobody could overhear him, and moved closer to Jack.
    “You see, the thing is, Mr. Brennan … dad’s not entirely … reliable.”
    “Seems pretty on the ball to me.”
    “He has his good days and he has his off days,” said Crispin. “Stress is not good for him.”
    Jack leaned a bit closer. “What are you trying to say Mr. Myrtle?”
    “I’m just thinking. In the circumstances. Perhaps you should report directly to me?”
    “Sorry,” said Jack. “Not unless your father tells me to.”
    Jack stared at Crispin Myrtle.
    Gotta say this about the guy — he doesn’t give up easy, thought Jack.
    “All right,” said Crispin. “Here’s what I’ll do. How about — you and your partner — what’s her name? Ms. Edwards? You come to dinner tonight here, with me and dad. On the house. And amongst us — we sort it all out then.”
    Jack paused.
    Dinner at The Bell was hardly a treat. And for all his change of heart, Crispin could be up to something.
    But a dinner could be useful.
    “Okay,” he said. “I’ll call Sarah.”
    “Terrific,” said Crispin with a grin. “Eight o’clock?”
    Jack nodded.
    Crispin offered his hand and Jack reached out slowly and shook it. Then he watched as the manager turned and went back up the steps two at a time and disappeared into the hotel.
    Jack had a pretty good idea that Crispin Myrtle believed he’d just neutralised a threat.
    But why should Jack and Sarah be seen as a threat to him?
    Things were not adding up.
    Jack pulled his jacket tight as a gust of wind blew a flurry of leaves across the gravel forecourt of the hotel. It had started to rain.
    He looked around the deserted grounds — lawns, a pond, oak trees and willows.
    Quite a bit of real estate — and bang in the middle of the village.
    But currently a real money pit — that was for sure. He took in the house with its cracked guttering, peeling paintwork, weathered stone.
    An old iron fire escape wound its way round to the side of the house, its ugly walkways reaching out to the higher bedrooms.
    As Jack followed its path along the side of the house — a movement in one of the top windows drew his eye.
    A face stared down at him, pressed against the misted glass — then it was gone.
    Was that a bedroom window?
    No, it was one of the attic rooms.
    Jack counted the windows: one, two, three …
    There was no doubt about it.
    The window belonged to Freddy’s room.
    *
    “Enjoy,” said the teenage waiter grimly as he placed the dinner plates in front of Jack and Sarah.
    Sarah smiled at the pink-faced young man.
    She recognised him as one of her daughter Chloe’s classmates from Cherringham School — but she hadn’t acknowledged him.
    And he hadn’t acknowledged her.
    Village life, she thought . Nothing more embarrassing than a friend’s mum spotting you out in the real world.
    She watched Jack cut into his steak and take a mouthful.
    “I would have brought a doggy bag,” he said, chewing slowly. “But Riley wouldn’t have thanked me for it. Tad tough …”
    “That bad?” she said, cutting through the damp crust of her own steak and kidney pie.
    “Steak’s usually the