The Bad Luck Lighthouse

by Nicki Thornton

  Partly to cover his own fears, Seth said loudly: ‘So, six people live here, including a small boy with a catapult. Alfie is Mina Mintencress’s younger brother, right?’ He was convinced there might still be traces of seaweed lodged in his ear.

  Celeste’s sigh of relief was immense when the electric lights blinked and decided to come back on.

  ‘He is just adorable. A bit too into his rocks, maybe. And his catapult. Living on an island is perfect for him. So free. He found a fossil yesterday. And Rendleton’s turning him into a really strong swimmer. This place has just been brilliant for him.’

  ‘Is he bothered by the stories of ghosts?’ asked Seth brightly, deciding he was keen to hear more about the ghost stories. He wasn’t sure he believed in ghosts, but not long ago he didn’t believe in magic either.

  ‘Ghosts! You get one broken ankle . . . one hand sprain . . . I mean, doors slam in the wind. Electrics are bound to be dodgy on an island. And all that food going missing? Lark eats like a horse, and like I said, I reckon that boat girl, Jo, stuffs her pockets when she thinks I’m not looking. They all need watching, the lot of them. Things were going fine. But when builders moved into the Sunrise Wing . . . well, we hit a snag or two. I reckon all it needs is someone to watch Rendleton, Lark and now Brockler for a bit, in secret, and find out who’s up to what and who’s lying.’

  Seth nodded and watched her flinch as the lightning and thunder struck again, barely a second apart.

  Celeste stuck out her tongue and very slowly finished cutting a single, wonky slice of bread with her soft hands and very long nails. Lunch might take a long time.

  ‘I guess working for Miss Mintencress is a nice job.’

  ‘Well, yes, but why do you say that? Most people just think she’s mad, buying this place.’

  To Seth, who had toiled all his life, it was obvious that Celeste’s job involved doing little hard work, however crazy her boss was. ‘Well, I guess you’ve never actually sliced bread before?’ he said.

  Celeste ducked at another flash of lightning, as a rumble of thunder rolled across the sky. She glanced up fearfully at the light in the centre of the kitchen as it fizzed again and they were suspended in near-darkness for a moment.

  ‘I’ve been with her for years. But it’s true, I’m more like her best friend than her maid.’

  Seth thought this explained a lot.

  ‘And who is Rendleton exactly? Not one of the family? He said he’s the manager.’

  ‘In charge of bookings, tours and marketing. Or so he says. I guess he’s pretty useful.’

  ‘Tours? For a hotel without guests?’

  She snorted. ‘Exactly. He’s mostly one of Lark’s ideas, which probably means she fancies him as a boyfriend.’

  ‘Well, I’m sorry to hear about all of it.’

  ‘Oh, we’ll get new builders. Ones that aren’t so stupid about ghosts.’

  ‘I meant sorry about Mina’s parents dying and the being lonely,’ said Seth. ‘And the arguing and staff leaving. But I see why she bought this place. I think it’s brilliant.’

  ‘You do?’

  Seth would have liked to say how strange but also nice it was to hear that someone who had plenty of money had chosen to buy and live in a hotel. He had spent ages working out how he could get away from the Last Chance Hotel, but now he wasn’t sure how he felt. Everything had become so tangled up with wanting to explore more of the magical world and all his unfinished business with Tiffany and the firefly cage. He wasn’t going to go into any of that with Celeste, though, so he just nodded.

  There was another terrific crash of thunder and lightning filled the room with a white glare. Celeste looked up, her dark eyes wide and fearful.

  ‘Now this Mr Pewter has just arrived,’ Celeste went on loudly, as if talking over the storm would stop her being afraid of it. ‘Everyone’s pretending he’s here because the wiring is dodgy, but I’m pretty sure he’s really here because of the supposed haunting. Hopefully he will tell everyone to stop being so stupid.’

  It was a relief to hear that Pewter was definitely here, but Seth’s mind was leaping along furiously– the inspector wasn’t a ghost-hunter; he investigated magical crime. Apart from the ghosts, the only other puzzle seemed to be a missing person who disappeared in mysterious circumstances years ago. How did that relate to strange happenings once a new owner took over? Where was the inspector?

  ‘Want to lay the table?’ he said, thinking he really should focus on his work for now. As Rendleton had said, there was a ton of work to do and no one seemed to be doing very much.

  ‘In the dining room?’ asked Celeste uncertainly. She headed over to the sink where plates and cups were stacked and moved them around busily. ‘Isn’t it safer down here in the basement?’

  There was another resounding crash of thunder accompanied by a splatter of rain against the back door that sounded like someone was throwing stones. A cup slipped out of Celeste’s grasp, splashing her delicate blue ballet shoes. Seth caught it before it shattered on the stone floor.

  ‘Have you got some better shoes for the kitchen?’ he suggested. ‘Don’t want these to get ruined.’

  ‘Do you know, I probably have.’

  She sloped off through a door that led to the purple corridor and the staff rooms and returned wearing a pair of clumpy shoes.

  ‘Look!’ she said, kicking her feet giddily. ‘Are these the sort of things you meant?’

  ‘You really are the strangest maid I have ever come across,’ Seth joked. Another crash sounded from on high – but Seth wasn’t convinced this one was thunder. ‘I think that crash came from inside.’

  Even as he said the words, they lost the lights for a third time and for a few seconds were left with just the eerily playing light of the candles and the dancing shadows flickering in the corners.

  When the lights came back on, they were accompanied by an ear-splitting scream.

  8. Something Nasty in the BaTh Tub

  ‘ Someone doesn’t like storms,’ commented Seth as the lights flickered madly.

  But Celeste rushed towards the stairs, her eyes panicked. ‘Was that Alfie?’

  Seth followed her into the extravagant entrance hall. ‘Perhaps you should wait here,’ he said, trying to sound much braver than he felt. His mind was galloping with the talk of ghosts, cursed villages and mysterious deaths, not to mention his magic troubles back at his own hotel. And now a scream.

  ‘Why? What do you think has happened?’

  ‘Let me go and check.’ Seth swallowed his fear and ran up the spiral stairs, looking around for the source of the scream.

  He passed two closed doors on the first floor, reached the top floor and peeked through an open door, not liking to intrude.

  The bedroom wasn’t large, but had been decorated in the same lavish style as the entrance hall. There was a four-poster bed made of a reflective metal, festooned with frilly lilac pillows and drapes tied back with huge glossy bows. The same wallpaper of soaring seagulls complemented the huge windows surrounding them. This must be the room that had once housed the light.

  The view of the storm was bewitching. He could instantly see that it would be stunningly beautiful here in the summer, but now it would appeal to anyone who loved to watch the savagery of wild weather. The sky was hard to take your eyes from. A mass of flashing light and rolling clouds over a grey and angry boiling sea.

  ‘Who are you?’ Standing by an inner door with her fists clenched stood a teenage girl, dressed in a purple-striped shirt tucked into tight black trousers. She looked at Seth suspiciously through eyes heavy with black make-up. She had a luxurious mane of long, brown curly hair and a cross expression.

  ‘Er, is everyone all right? I’m the new kitchen boy. Just arrived. Someone screamed.’

  ‘That was me,’ said the man standing alongside her. He was in his thirties, well-groomed with oiledback dark hair. He was wearing a stiff white shirt and well-tailored trousers. Brockler, the blood-sucking lawyer, Seth g
uessed.

  He was fiddling with a sleek, expensive-looking watch on his wrist. ‘The lights going out. All that lightning.’ He shuddered. ‘And Miss Sunrise and I have been trying to reach Mina.’ His soulful eyes stood out, worried and watchful in his delicate face. ‘She’s locked in the bathroom.’

  ‘She hates storms,’ said Lark.

  Brockler stared at the sturdy door as if just being angry with it would make it open.

  Seth crossed the room and asked if was all right to look though the keyhole. ‘Key’s in the lock, sir.’ He gave a sharp rap. ‘Miss Mintencress, it’s Seth, the new kitchen boy. We’re worried about you. Can you let us know you’re all right?’

  There was silence.

  ‘We have tried that,’ snapped Lark.

  Behind them, two others raced into the room. First, a small boy with dark hair and a telltale catapult in his back pocket. Seth unconsciously narrowed his eyes at Alfie and checked his ear for more seaweed. Rendleton had arrived too. The one person Seth really hoped would appear was Inspector Pewter. Why had he not come running at the scream?

  ‘What’s going on?’ Rendleton demanded.

  ‘We’re worried about Mina,’ snapped Brockler. ‘Something must have happened. I tried to bust in there,’ he wiped his long and delicate hands gracefully across his brow, ‘but I couldn’t shift that door an inch.’

  Another brilliant fork tore the dark sky outside.

  ‘Could she have been,’ began Lark nervously, ‘struck by lightning?’

  ‘Perhaps, Lark, you might want to take Alf downstairs,’ suggested Rendleton. He rapped his knuckles boldly on the door and called loudly, ‘Mina? Miss Mintencress?’

  Even his voice could hardly be heard above the howl of the wind. Rain hurtled at the windows as if trying to break through.

  ‘Lark, what’s happened to Mina?’ asked Alfie.

  Lark seized his hand and spoke in a comforting tone, too low for Seth to make out. He couldn’t help but fear Brockler was right. Why wasn’t Mina answering? Something must have happened to her.

  ‘She wouldn’t want to be alone in a storm,’ Brockler said, his big dark eyes standing out as he fixed them all with a worried glance, as if challenging them to contradict him.

  ‘I could have a shot at it,’ said Rendleton, sizing up the door. ‘First, mate, it’s not like we didn’t all hear you arguing earlier. I’d look a right idiot busting into her bathroom if she’s just trying to wind you up.’

  Brockler looked annoyed and drew himself up, although he was almost a head shorter than Rendleton. ‘She can’t really be taking yet another bath. I instruct you to break the door down.’

  Rendleton put his shoulder to it, and Seth did his best to help. Eventually there was a loud crack, the splintering of wood, and the door fell inwards. Rendleton staggered into the bathroom, followed by Brockler. Seth slipped in behind as a flash of lightning lit up the big picture windows like floodlights, showing waves that looked as if they were clawing their way up the side of the building.

  An enormous white bath with a curling top, elaborate taps and ornate gold clawed feet, was elevated in the centre of the room. From its raised position you could admire the magnificent sea view while bathing.

  Another flash of lightning showed something else very clearly.

  In the bath was a young woman. She was completely immersed under foamy, bubbly water. Pretty much all you could see was her dark hair billowing out around her like a mermaid’s. Only she wasn’t a mermaid. Her face was distorted and unnaturally bloated.

  And there was no doubt at all that she was dead.

  9. A Dreadful Accident

  Seth’s thoughts flew to Celeste, then shrunk from the fact that someone was going to have to break the news . . . and it was probably going to be him. She’d told him how she and Mina were more like best friends.

  Another flash of lightning exploded into the high room, along with another crash of thunder that sounded like a car wreck in the sky. All three of them flinched. Seth felt himself duck, the lightning spot-lighting just how enormous the waves had grown.

  Brockler had slumped in an uncomfortable-looking gold chair in the far corner of the bathroom and put his head in his hands. He looked shocked and broken.

  ‘A terrible, terrible thing,’ Rendleton muttered, looking out of the window rather than at the dead girl, a puzzled look on his face. ‘How could it have happened? She fall asleep – or what? She stand up to get a look at the storm and slipped? Or . . . what are we looking at here?’

  Brockler stood. ‘What are you saying?’ he sneered. ‘That this was the work of the ghost?’

  ‘Nope, I’m not saying it’s the ruddy ghost. But how did it happen? It’s not like we don’t know how you lot have been at each other’s throats . . .’

  It was easy to see what the manager was implying. Seth already understood that the place was a cloud of disagreements and difficulties, and now Mina Mintencress was dead.

  Seth felt even more anxious – where was Pewter? The lighthouse shook as another clap of thunder rocked it, and he listened to Brockler and Rendleton discussing what to do.

  Rendleton was insisting that there was something deeply suspicious about the death coming after a spate of ill fortune, accidents and arguments, and Seth couldn’t help thinking he was right. He knew that MagiCon had already thought the place worth looking into. And now the millionairess Mina Mintencress had died alone in a locked room . . . Seth could not help but remember he had so recently been involved in something similar. Someone had died, and that locked-room mystery had come so close to ending with him being arrested for murder. Well, if there was anything at all suspicious about this death, Seth was determined that this time the blame would not fall on him. But what exactly had happened here?

  He knew he shouldn’t leave it any longer to break the news to Celeste, and someone would have to tell Lark and Alfie, but Seth wavered. He stood in the middle of the tragedy, taking in the smell – damp with a tang of sour grapefruit; a sharp, unpleasant aroma from the shroud of bubbles lingering in the bath – and listening to Brockler and Rendleton carry on their low-level argument.

  ‘Even if you call the police, the waves are the size of houses. They’ll not get through until morning,’ pointed out Brockler in his posh voice. ‘And what are you going to tell them – blame it on the ghosts? And we can’t leave her here.’

  ‘I’ll move her to the cellar.’ Rendleton bravely plunged his hands into the water and pulled out the plug; the foamy water started to gurgle away, allowing him to cover the body with towels and finally shoulder the bundle.

  Brockler stood shakily, saying something about talking to Lark. He stared wordlessly at the empty tub. Another flash of lightning filled the room and his eyes widened. With a cry, he lunged into the bathtub and scooped up something up from the bottom before it drained away. Brockler stared at what he held in his hand, shaking off the clinging bubbles. Some sort of pendant on a leather cord.

  ‘She loved this!’ he cried. Brockler held it in his hands for a moment then tucked it in his pocket.

  It struck Seth as a strange sort of jewel for a rich person to wear. From the quick glance he’d managed, it seemed plain, made out of a material like stone or wood, and not even a gold chain. A carved figure, Seth thought, with two small red gems for eyes.

  Before Rendleton started down the stairs, Seth raced past him, needing to make sure Celeste was out of the way before the unfortunate burden made its way to the cellar.

  When he reached the kitchen, Celeste was busy humming a little song. ‘Look, I’ve done sandwiches.’ She looked up proudly from a small pile of badly cut bread. Her smile faded the instant she saw Seth’s face. ‘What’s up? That scream – is Alfie all right?’

  ‘Alfie is fine; the scream wasn’t him.’ Seth paused. ‘Celeste, there’s been a terrible accident. It’s Mina, she’s—’

  ‘Accident? I only just left her.’

  ‘I’m so sorry. There’s no easy way to tell yo
u this. She drowned in her bath. She’s – I’m afraid she’s dead.’

  Celeste’s eyelids fluttered, then her body simply crumpled, and only Seth rushing forward to catch her stopped her falling to the floor.

  He tried to steer her to her room. Luckily she was only out for seconds, but she still leaned heavily on Seth as he led her down the short purple corridor to the staff bedrooms.

  She seemed bewildered, not even sure which was hers, but the second room along contained a narrow bed and white coverlet and a selection of cosmetic bottles and jars arranged on a practical and sturdy chest of drawers. A similar outfit to the one Celeste was wearing hung on the outside of the wardrobe door.

  ‘We’ve had so many accidents,’ whispered Celeste, her eyes big and full of panic. ‘She knew . . . she thought . . .’

  Seth eased her on to the bed, squeezed her hand and said he was off to make everyone tea. But he had only just put the tea on to brew when there came a hammering on the outside door.

  How could anyone be outside? No one could have reached the island in this storm.

  Seth flung open the door and the wind rushed in first, followed by a dishevelled figure who staggered inside, rain running off him in rivers, his silvery hair as wet as if he was a creature from the sea. In his arms a black shape wriggled.

  ‘Inspector Pewter!’ cried Seth.

  He slammed the door and the black shape the inspector was clasping squirmed again, revealing bedraggled fur. Nightshade leapt out of Inspector Pewter’s grasp and landed on the floor with a damp plop and a hiss.

  ‘Wretched cat,’ growled Pewter, taking off his round glasses and giving them a wipe before squeezing water out of his hair. ‘And Seth – aren’t you just full of surprises?’