The Haunting of the King's Head

by Amy Cross

  Above us, Bonnie paws at the edge of the hatch, as if she wants to come down.

  “I assume there's a story about the dog, by the way,” Dad adds.

  “Yep,” I reply.

  “Anything I should worry about?”

  “That depends how much you want to have a dog staying with us,” I say, as I wander over to one of the brick walls and touch the cold surface. “The book I'm reading says that no-one's properly mapped the route of all the tunnels,” I continue, “but they're supposed to link almost all the pubs in this part of town. All the pubs near the shore, at least. I guess they were all involved in the smuggling trade, even The King's Head.”

  I take a step back, and then I feel my foot catch against something on the ground. Looking down, I spot what looks like a piece of chalk. I reach down and pick it up, and that's when I realize that it's not chalk at all.

  “Dad?” I say cautiously. “Is this a piece of bone? Like, maybe from a finger?”

  He takes it from my hand and looks at it more closely, and it's quite telling that he doesn't immediately dismiss the idea.

  “It is a piece of bone, isn't it?” I continue.

  “It could be,” he replies, “but it's not necessarily human. It could be from anything.”

  “It's still freaky,” I mutter. “I read that smuggling wasn't exactly an easy lifestyle. A lot of people got murdered if they ended up making the wrong enemies.”

  “Now you're getting ahead of yourself just a little bit, Charley.”

  “I bet this tunnel runs straight to The Golden Bow,” I tell him. “It's going in the right direction. From there, it probably runs all the way to the pubs at the center of town.” I pause for a moment as I realize the enormity of what we've discovered. “These tunnels could run for miles and miles. They're almost like a whole extra town underneath Malmeston.”

  “Steady on,” Dad replies. “All I'm seeing is a section of an old tunnel, and it's been bricked up. It's little more than a basement these days.”

  “But -”

  “It's interesting, I'll grant you that,” he adds, “and maybe we can use it somehow.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “It's a unique feature,” he continues. “If I can think of some way to advertise what we've found here, we could maybe publicize the pub. I'll contact some of the local papers, and I'll see if they're interested in running a story. I'll show them this possible piece of bone, too. You know what they say, Charley. All publicity is good publicity.”

  “And I'll investigate a little more,” I tell him. “There might be other stuff down here.”

  “Let me take the lead on this one,” he adds. “Right now, I'm more concerned with the dog that's standing up there in the bar. Did you just bring some random stray home?”

  I try to think about how I'm going to explain the whole thing with Judith Sinclair and the body, but I've got an unfortunate feeling that Dad might not be too happy about what I've been up to.

  “Well,” I say finally, “it's a little complicated, and I really need you not to overreact until you've heard the whole story.”

  ***

  “He took that better than I thought he would,” I say to Bonnie as I set a bowl of food down and watch as she immediately starts scoffing it down. “Now I just need to work on making your temporary stay something more permanent. Would you like that?”

  I reach over and stroke her flank.

  “I'm really sorry about Judith,” I continue. “It must be hard for you, losing her like that. I promise I'll look after you, though. I'll do everything I can to make your life good here. I guess it'll just take some getting used to, but I reckon being a pub dog can't be all that bad. You might even like it, although we'll have to keep an eye on your weight. Pub dogs tend to be a little plump most of the time.”

  She ignores me, of course, and focuses entirely on her food.

  “Let me see if you like those treats I got for you,” I add, getting to my feet and heading into the kitchen. “Don't worry, Bonnie,” I call back to her, “I'm right here. I'm not going to go anywhere.”

  I head back out to her, only to find that her bowl is empty and she's wandered off.

  “Bonnie?” I say cautiously. “Where -”

  Before I can finish, I hear a loud thudding sound coming from the bar area. Confused, I head through to take a look, but there's still no sign of Bonnie. A moment later I hear her whimpering, however, and I look around until finally I realize that the sound is coming from down in the tunnel beneath the hatch, which Dad left open.

  “Please, no,” I say, heading over and looking down, only to see Bonnie's tail wagging as she digs at the ground. “How am I gonna get you out of there?”

  I try to think of a solution, but the only obvious answer is that I'll have to lift her out. That won't be easy, considering the fact that she's by no means a small dog. Then again, I really don't want to have to wait until Dad gets home, since I only just got done assuring him that Bonnie'll be no trouble and that I'll take care of her all by myself. I take a deep breath, and then I sit down and start lowering myself carefully into the tunnel.

  “Just so you know,” I gasp, as I jump down and land with a thump on the hard, rocky ground, “this is mildly annoying. Then again, Dad should definitely have closed this thing.”

  I head over to her and reach down to grab her by the collar, but then I see that she's digging furiously at the bottom of the brick wall. Not only that, but she's actually pushed some of the bricks loose, and when I kneel next to her I see that she's making real progress.

  “Let me help,” I say reaching past her and trying to move the bricks aside, only to find that a large section comes loose almost immediately.

  I pull a few more sections away, and finally I peer through into pitch darkness. After a moment I take my phone from my pocket and activate the flashlight app, and then I shine the light through and see another stretch of tunnel leading off into the distance.

  “Wow,” I whisper, as I realize that we can gain access to the whole network, “good job, Bonnie.”

  Getting to my feet, I bring up Dad's number so I can let him know. Of course, I don't have any signal down here in the tunnel, so I figure I'll have to get Bonnie up first.

  “Okay,” I say, turning to her, “we -”

  Before I can finish, I see her hind legs and tail disappearing through the gap in the wall.

  “No!” I gasp, but I'm too late.

  I drop to my knees and shine the light along the tunnel, just in time to see that Bonnie's happily scurrying off into the distance.

  “Stop!” I yell, panicking as she vanishes into the darkness ahead. “I mean, stay! Bonnie, halt! Heel! Don't keep going!”

  She's gone, however, and I realize with a sigh that I'm going to have to go after her. I pull some more of the bricks aside and crawl through the gap, and then I find that the tunnel is tall enough for me to stand up. I shine the flashlight around the cold, narrow space, and I realize that I'll be fine just so long as I just go in a straight line and remember the way back. If there are any junctions or complicated routes, I'll have to return to the pub and then use food to lure Bonnie home.

  I start making my way forward, shining the light around so that I don't get confused by any unexpected turnings.

  “Bonnie!” I call out, my voice echoing all around, “come back! Seriously, Bonnie, where are you? Bonnie!”

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Muriel Hyde

  1910...

  “Elsa? What are you doing?”

  As the loud banging sound continues, filling the entire pub, I hurry down the stairs and go through to the bar, where I see to my astonishment that the hatch is open. I make my way to the edge and look down, and sure enough Elsa is scrabbling about in the darkness, running her hands against the walls of the old tunnel. After a moment she takes a knife and tries to chisel away some of the stone.

  “What are you doing?” I ask.

  “Finding your money!” she sne
ers.

  “It's not down there!”

  “That's exactly what you'd say if I was getting close,” she replies, sounding a little breathless as she continues to check the walls. It's as if she thinks she'll suddenly uncover some kind of hidden alcove. “I know it's in the pub somewhere, Muriel. I just want a share and then I'll be on my way and you'll never have to put up with me again!”

  Glancing past the bar, I see that the wall panel is undisturbed. Elsa has not found where I keep the money, at least not yet, but I can't count on that remaining the case for long. She's a smart woman, and it's something of a miracle that she has not managed to locate and open the panel. If I do not hinder her search, she will surely get to the money eventually.

  “You could save us both a lot of time, you know,” she continues. “You know you owe me. Your money -”

  “It's not my money!” I tell her. “It was given to me by Mr. Foster for a specific purpose and -”

  “I'm your own flesh and blood,” she says, cutting me off. “Even if you don't care about me, Muriel, do you not think about your poor nephew? We're your family, yet you see fit to abandon us to poverty!”

  “This is foolishness,” I reply taking a step back and putting a hand on the side of my head. I feel as if my mind is fit to burst at any moment, and I believe I am becoming a little dizzy. “I can't take much more.”

  “What is this place down here, anyway?” Elsa calls up to me.

  “Old smuggling tunnels,” I reply, although I do not know why I am bothering.

  “I see you've had the end bricked up,” she says. “I bet that's not made you very popular around here. Old Mr. Hayes told me that you'd been rather difficult to work with. Let me guess, did you get all high and mighty on the subject? Did you refuse to even let your pub be used?”

  “Will you please get out of there?” I ask. “I assure you, you will find absolutely nothing, you're wasting both -”

  Suddenly Elsa lets out a cry. I hurry back to the edge of the hatch and look down, and I see that she's clutching her right hand as blood dribbles down onto the floor.

  “What happened?” I ask.

  “My finger!” she gasps. “I fell against the knife!”

  Before I can reply, I realize that I can see what appears to be the tip of her finger resting on the floor. I step back again, horrified by what has happened, as I hear Elsa cursing me down below. She seems to be getting increasingly angry and distressed, almost as if she's starting to lose control, and all I can think right now is that I need to get her out of The King's Head before she tears the whole pub apart.

  A moment later, Elsa climbs inelegantly out of the hatch, and I see that indeed the tip of her right index finger has been cut away.

  “Why are you doing this to me?” she screams, jabbing at me with her injured hand, splashing blood against my face. “Give me some of that money, Muriel, and you'll never see me again! But I swear, if you don't give me anything, I will never leave you alone! I'll make sure that everyone knows all about you, whether it's the truth or the lies! If you think things are bad now, wait until I'm done dragging your name through the mud! No-one'll ever set foot in this wretched pub again! You'll be lucky if they don't burn it down with you still inside!”

  “Get out!” I say firmly.

  “Or what?”

  “Or...”

  “Or I'll make you pay!” Lunging at her, I grab her by the throat and press her against the wall. For a few seconds I am utterly overcome by a sense of anger, and all I can think is that I must squeeze the life out of this shrew's vile body. I squeeze tighter and tighter, ignoring her attempts to push me away.

  Finally I feel her body beginning to fall limp. She lets out a pained gasp, as if the life-force itself is leaving her body, and she places a hand on my shoulder. I look into her eyes, and I see her fading away. I need only to wait a few more seconds and she will be dead.

  And then, seeing my hate-filled face reflected in several bottles on the shelf nearby, I let go of Elsa's throat and take a step back.

  Gasping for air, she falls down and slams against the floor.

  I bump against the bar, overwhelmed by the realization that I just came within a few seconds of murdering my own sister. It was as if sheer, burning anger filled my body and forced me to act, and it took so long for me to regain control of my senses. Never before have I felt such hatred for another human being, and I close my eyes as I try to bring some kind of order and calm back to my mind. When I open my eyes again, I look at the bottles and this time I see my face filled with shock and fear.

  “You almost killed me!” Elsa gurgles, struggling back up from the floor. “You almost throttled the life right out of me!”

  “I'm sorry,” I stammer, horrified at the thought that I almost became a murderer. “Elsa, forgive me, I'm so sorry...”

  “There'll be marks!” she hisses. “I won't have any trouble getting anyone to believe what you just did. I think you'd better think fast, Muriel. Do you want me running around town, half-strangled and with part of my finger missing? Why, those who doubt your guilt will be won over for sure, and those who already hate you will begin to think that you're some kind of demon! What kind of woman attacks her own sister in cold blood like that, anyway?”

  “You have to leave now,” I tell her.

  “Leave? I'm telling you, I -”

  “Leave!”

  Feeling the anger bubbling up again, I grab her by the arm and pull her around the bar. She struggles wildly, but I manage to get the door open and I thrust her outside with such force that she trips on the steps and falls down. As she does so, she lets out the most terrible squawking sound, as if she is being assailed by a whole gang of monsters.

  “Don't come back,” I tell her. “Not ever. If you do, I shan't let you inside. Tell people whatever you want to tell them, see if I care. But you must never, ever darken this door again.”

  With that, I slam the door shut, and then I slide the bolt across before dropping to the floor in a flood of tears. For all her faults and vindictiveness, Elsa is my sister and somehow I still love her a great deal. Yet I fear now that I cannot control myself around her. I almost murdered her, and I cannot trust that I will not finish the job if she angers me again. It is for her sake as well as mine, therefore, that I must make sure that I never see her again. Even as I hear her stumbling away from the pub, I feel an aching sadness in my chest as I realize that I can never again trust myself around people.

  I am a monster.

  Chapter Forty-Five

  Charley Lucas

  Today...

  I'm such an idiot.

  Twenty minutes after starting to make my way along the tunnel, I'm still shuffling forward and still calling Bonnie's name, and I'm starting to worry that she might have already gone too far for me to find her. What if she's trapped down here forever? I've been looking after her for less than a day and I've already managed to lose her.

  Way to go, Charley.

  “Bonnie!” I hiss, even though I know she's probably way too far off to hear me now. “This is getting ridiculous! Why do you even want to be down here, anyway? It's so cold! Crazy dog.”

  I'm starting to think that this approach to finding Bonnie is going to be pretty hopeless, and that a better option might be to go back to my other plan. If I got some sausages from town, I'm sure Bonnie would pick up the smell and come straight back to the pub. Sure, she might be excited about running around down here right now, but give it a few hours and the appeal's sure to wear off.

  Ahead, I see another partial brick wall, although this one only covers about half the opening. As I get closer and squeeze through, however, I realize I can hear voices up ahead, and I stop just as I find myself entering what seems to be another opening beneath another hatch. I think I might have found my way to the basement beneath The Golden Bow.

  “That's the problem, though,” a man is saying somewhere above me, presumably in the main bar area, “he's not doing badly at all. I've been past
the place in the evenings, and sometimes it's packed!”

  “That's just a temporary surge in interest,” another voice says, and I realize that this sounds very much like Gary Hayes from the brewery. “People are curious, but they'll get over that soon enough. They have a kind of morbid curiosity about The King's Head but soon that'll all fade away. Besides, I've accelerated our plans, and this time there'll be no campaign groups around to save the place.”

  “You seem rattled today,” the other man replies. “What happened?”

  “Let's just say that I've seen the need to deal with The King's Head on a more permanent basis. Keeping things bottled up in that place just didn't work. It's time for a scorched-earth policy. Muriel bloody Hyde has screwed my family's brewery over for the last time.”

  I creep toward a crack in the floor, and then I carefully step up onto a ledge. When I look through the crack, I can just about make out Gary Hayes standing next to the bar in The Golden Bow with the landlord.

  “Muriel Hyde's been dead for a century,” the landlord points out. “You're not starting to believe the ghost stories, are you?”

  There's an uncomfortable silence, as I realize that these people seem to have been planning to sabotage Dad right from the start. I feel a rush of anger, but I also know that I have to stay quiet at all costs. I need to find out as much as I can about their plan, and I need to make sure that they don't realize they've been overheard.

  “Do you know what it's like to live in fear?” Hayes asks finally. “Every second of every day, you're terrified that your whole world is going to come falling down all around you. That's how it's been for my family over the years, but not anymore. Once that pub is out of the way, and once Muriel's laid to rest forever, we can focus exclusively on the future. There's just one more thing I need to deal with first.”

  “When will that Lucas guy and his kid be kicked out?”

  “Soon.”