The Apparition - An Andromache Jones Mystery

by Sammi Cox

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  Mac drove into Steping town centre. In truth, she was driving around aimlessly, as she thought about what they could do now. It was obvious that the energy in the house was strong. If it wasn't it wouldn't have been able to do so much damage in so little time.

  If only we could work out what it is she thinks Jean has, Mac said silently to herself. That would be the quickest and surest way of sending the ghost back to the other realms and ridding the house of the haunting.

  'Pull over there,' Jean said pointing to a coffee shop. 'I need caffeine.'

  'I am not sure you do,' Mac commented. Jean was already extremely wound up. However, Mac was silenced by the look Jean gave her, and decided it was best not to pursue the matter.

  While Jean ran over to get them a hot drink each, Mac looked over the handful of papers she had scooped up as they had fled the house.

  The first page was a letter from a 'Rosalind' to a 'Charles'. It spoke of their love for one another and the hopes she had for their future. It was dated 1876.

  The next sheet of paper was another letter, dated 1877. This one was written by Charles and addressed to Rosalind and it spoke of an argument. An engagement ring that had been purchased and duly offered to Rosalind was considered by the bride-to-be far too expensive. She would have been much happier with a token that had cost less if it meant that they could marry all the sooner. However, Charles had believed that it was perfect for her, and that anything less would have meant that her father might not have agreed to the match. He loved her and that ring symbolised how much. They only had to wait until the following year for the wedding.

  The final thing Mac had to look at was an old photograph. In the centre was a man in his early thirties, seated on a high-backed chair. He was dressed formally but Mac could see how handsome he was. Behind the man, standing a little to his right was a beautiful woman, younger than him, perhaps twenty-one or twenty-two. A ribbon choker from which a locket dangled rested around her neck and her hair was pinned up, except for a few curls gracing either side of her face. She was wearing a high-necked blouse and lace collar. The lady's hand, showing off a beautiful ring, was resting on the seated gentleman's shoulder. Mac's eye was instinctively drawn to the items of jewellery she was wearing. Somehow, there was a feeling of familiarity about one of them.

  Turning the photo over, Mac read the inscription.

  Charles and Rosalind Colebridge, 1878.

  The hand was elegant and flowing. As she held the photograph and letters, she closed her eyes. Yep, the energy at the house definitely belongs to Rosalind, Mac concluded. There was no mistaking the sheer determination and force of will, which, under any other circumstances might have been better described as passion.

  Opening her eyes again, she studied the photograph closely as she tried to bring together what she had seen of the ghost in the library with what was staring back at her from the photograph. They were so different and yet, now she knew who it was, so similar.

  'One hot chocolate, one mocha, and a box full of cakes,' Jean said, opening the passenger side door and passing over her food order for Mac to hold while she climbed in. Once she was in her seat, Mac passed it all back, so Jean could determine what was what. As she did so, Mac explained what she had learnt from the papers.

  'So it's Rosalind Colebridge who wants to kill me. We have managed to put a name to the ghostly face. How does that help us?' Jean asked handing over Mac's paper cup-encased hot chocolate. As Mac went to take it off her, the light from the street lamp above the car made the jewellery on Jean's hand sparkle.

  'Where did you get this ring?' Mac exclaimed taking her hand to show her which one she meant. 'It's the same as the one Rosalind is wearing in this photograph. Look!' Mac thrust the black and white image in front of Jean.

  'Umm...' Jean looked down at the silver filigree and blue sapphire ring.

  'Didn't you say you found it in the process of moving home?'

  'Yes...Oh, how could I have been so stupid?'

  'Where exactly did you find it?'

  'You know I told you about the day when the removal van was coming to deliver all my stuff? The day I got to the house really early in the morning so I could clear one of the downstairs rooms?'

  'Yes...'

  Jean stared at the ring on her finger as she offered up her explanation. 'Yes, well, I came across a box of old rubbish. But in the light of the torch, the ring sparkled. I fished it out...and have been wearing it ever since.'

  'If I am right, this ring is Rosalind's engagement ring.'

  'No wonder she is angry with me.'

  'To be honest, it's not your fault. It was in the house when you bought, so legally the ring is now yours.'

  'I can hear a 'but' in your voice.'

  'What would you rather have...a ghost-free house and no ring, or -'

  'The ring and complete terror until the day I manage to persuade some fool to buy the accursed building off me? I think we know the answer to that question, Miss Jones.'

  Chapter Ten: Visiting the Dead