What a Ghoul Wants

by Victoria Laurie

  Gil rolled his eyes. “What do you need to know?”

  “I’m curious about this Desperate Duke character. I’m convinced it was his ghost I saw after I fell onto that strip of land outside the door I jumped from the other night, and the Widow was clearly wary of him. I think he’s someone we may want to make contact with and maybe even enlist to help us fight his widow. I’m still not sure if he was also the ghost I saw out on the moors from inside the castle, so I’d like it if you could confirm that the duke also haunts the moors. And I want to stick to the original plan we had to go in search of him first, before we tackle the Widow. Also, see if you can find any good deeds done by this man when he was alive. Maybe he wasn’t a total bastard and something you dig up will help us remind him of his humanity.”

  But Gil was already shaking his head. “M. J., you’ve already seen him once and that means you’re marked for death! How many times are you gonna tempt fate on this bust?”

  “I’m still alive, Gil, which means the legend is probably flawed. Besides, he helped me, which means in life he might have been a misogynist bastard, but in death he did a girl a great favor, and that has to count for something.” Gil continued to glare at me contemptuously, so I repeated firmly, “Just get me the research, will you?”

  He muttered something that I’m sure was unflattering to me, but he also tapped a few notes into his phone, so I didn’t make a big deal out of it. “Anything else?” he asked.

  “No. That should do it.”

  “What’re you and Heath going to do?” John asked.

  “We’re going to pay a house call,” I said.

  Heath looked at me curiously. “Who’re we going to see?”

  “The Dowager Countess Lydia Hathaway.”

  Several mouths fell open.

  “I don’t believe the dowager would be willing to meet with you without an appointment,” Michel said.

  “Maybe not. But we have to try. I don’t have a lot of confidence about our ability to shut the Widow down, and if we fail in that goal, then I think we’ll need a backup plan. Ideally, I’d like to see the castle closed and locked up tight, but I think I’d settle for having the moat drained. Either way, Kidwellah Castle shouldn’t be a vacation destination for anybody. And with three recent deaths on castle grounds, I can’t see how the dowager could reason otherwise.”

  “Good luck with that,” Gilley said, and not like he actually meant it.

  I gathered up my messenger bag and stood to end the meeting. “We’ll regroup back here at six for dinner, get some shut-eye for a few hours, then start filming around one a.m. If you run into any issues with your assignments, please call me on my cell.” And that’s when I remembered something else and I turned to Gil again, dreading that I had to ask him one more favor.

  “Oh come on!” he yelled, clearly reading my expression. “Pick on somebody else, would you?!”

  “Heath needs a new phone,” I said, ignoring the drama queen fit he was throwing, but conscious that the rest of the crew had paused to listen.

  Gilley glared at me. “Let him get it himself,” he snapped, clearly irritated that he’d been assigned so many tasks.

  “You have the crew’s cellular account info, Gil,” I reminded him. “It’s a lot easier if you handle it.”

  “I’ll go with you,” Michel said, and I could’ve hugged him, because Gilley immediately softened.

  “Yeah?”

  “Of course,” Michel said. “It’ll be our little date. You can convince me to get a mobile and I can keep you company.”

  I thought Gilley might float right out of his chair—he was so pleased—but then he remembered me and cut me another dark look. “You owe me.”

  I sighed. “Don’t I always?”

  Gil muttered again, but I could tell it was all an act. I turned my attention one last time to the crew. “Okay, everybody, you have your assignments. Let’s get to it!” With that, everyone scattered.

  Once we were back in the main hall, I asked Mr. Crunn to order me a taxi, and Heath and I waited out on the road, well away from the drawbridge. While we stood there, Heath turned back to stare at the castle. “What?” I asked him, wondering what he was looking at.

  “You’d never know it was such a terrible place in the light of day.”

  I looked back too. But I wasn’t fooled. I’d seen way too much in the past few days to ever think of it as anything but an awful place. I turned away without comment and stared instead out at the moors. To my eye, the rolling hills and lush green grasses were far more picturesque. The taxi didn’t take long to reach us, and I couldn’t help but notice how the driver looked a bit relieved that we met him out in front of the castle so that he didn’t have to drive across the bridge. Once we were seated, I said, “Do you happen to know where the Dowager Countess Hathaway lives?”

  In the rearview mirror, his eyes grew wide. “I do, ma’am, yes.”

  “Can you please take us to her home?”

  The driver shifted in his seat. “Pardon my asking, ma’am, but do you happen to have an appointment to see the countess? And I’m only asking because without one, you’re not gettin’ an audience with the likes of ’er.”

  “Well then,” I said, unperturbed, “we’ll ring her bell, make our inquiries, and ask you to wait for us should we get turned away, if that’s all right by you?”

  The driver mumbled something that sounded an awful lot like “It’s your funeral,” but he didn’t try to talk me out of going.

  We drove in silence the fairly short distance to a large redbrick home that sat atop a hill overlooking Lake Byrn y Bach. When I realized how close the house was, I felt a blush touch my cheeks. If we’d only asked Arthur for directions, Heath and I could easily have walked.

  We got out and I paid the driver, thanking him and letting him know that we would find our own way back to the castle. He smiled and winked at me, knowing he’d just taken another American for a few pound notes she could easily have kept.

  Heath and I approached the front drive a bit warily. I had no idea what the dowager was going to be like, or if she would even see me, but I had a compelling urge to talk to her, and I don’t usually ignore my own intuition.

  At the front door I let Heath press the bell. It gonged with a somber tone. A few moments later the door was opened by an elegantly dressed gentleman, tall and imposing, with silver hair, a long hooked nose, very erect posture, and a clear disdain for the appearance of strangers on the dowager’s doorstep. “Yes?” he said, in that way that suggested his next comment would be “No thank you, good day.”

  For a second, I had no idea what to say, but then I just blurted out a partial truth. “Hello, sir, my name is M. J. Holliday and this is my associate Heath Whitefeather. As you can probably tell from our accents, we’re from America, and we’re currently staying at Kidwellah Castle filming for a television show we’re featured in, and I was wondering if the Lady Hathaway might perhaps be able to give us some history on Kidwellah—if it’s not too much of an imposition, that is.”

  The man at the door stared down his hooked nose at me as if he could barely fathom the audacity of such a bold request, and just as he opened his mouth to speak, from somewhere inside we heard, “Fredrick? Who is it?”

  Into view came a woman perhaps in her early to mid-seventies, smartly dressed in fine silk and cashmere and with perfect ash-blond hair cut to just under her chin. “Hello,” she said cordially.

  “These are two Americans, my lady,” the butler said with a slight bow.

  “Oh?” she replied, her eyes alight with interest. “Are you here on holiday?”

  “No, ma’am,” I said, wondering if it was correct to address the countess as “ma’am.” “We’re here on business. We’re filming a television show at Kidwellah Castle.”

&n
bsp; The countess stepped forward. “Oh, yes! I had heard you were coming to investigate my beloved Kidwellah. How are you enjoying your stay?”

  Her question took me by surprise. Surely she’d heard about the tragic happenings of the last few days. “It’s been. . . eventful, ma’am.”

  The half smile she’d worn since making her appearance never wavered, and I didn’t quite know what to make of that, but I really wanted to have a chat with this woman, so while the opportunity presented itself, I took it. “I hope you’ll forgive our unannounced intrusion, ma’am, but our producer told us this morning to call on you and beg an audience. You see, we have very little background on Kidwellah, and he thought it might be a good idea to ask you about it. I mean, no one could be a better resource for the castle’s history than its owner, right?”

  Out of the corner of my eye I saw the butler subtly roll his eyes. He didn’t care for my informalities one little bit, but either the countess forgave me my ignorance or she had nothing better to do that morning. “Would you and your gentleman friend like to join me for a spot of tea?” she asked.

  “Yes, please!” I said with great relief as the butler stepped to the side and opened the door wide to allow us entrance.

  Both Heath and I formally introduced ourselves and followed Lady Hathaway a little deeper into the beautiful home. I knew that her house had been described by the taxi driver as a “cottage,” but it was by no means modest. However, it was quite cozy.

  By the look of it, the dowager’s home was at least five thousand square feet, with large airy rooms adorned in the most beautiful fabrics and rich array of colors. A lovely collection of artwork graced nearly every wall, and fine antique furnishings completed the setting.

  There was also none of that musty old smell that comes with homes filled with the furnishings of centuries past. Instead the air smelled clean and lemony, and each wood surface gleamed with a polished sheen. I immediately loved the home. It was one of those places that just welcomed you at every turn.

  The dowager led us into a beautiful robin’s-egg-blue parlor with gold accents and teal blue furnishings, and the moment I sat down on the sofa, I wanted to marry it. I’d never sat on something so plush and comfortable.

  Large windows allowed a good bit of the late-morning sun to warm the room, and as we initially made small talk with the dowager—informing her of our backgrounds and how we met and came to be in the cable TV business—I also warmed to the lovely woman and wondered why I’d allowed the inspector’s words to shape my opinion of her before meeting her.

  After tea was served by a young woman in a traditional maid’s uniform, the countess turned the conversation to Kidwellah Castle. “Now, you had asked about the history of Kidwellah. The castle was built in the late thirteenth century and has a very rich past—too much to go into for one sitting, so please tell me what era you’d most enjoy hearing about and I’ll do my best to keep the history brief.”

  Heath spoke up before I could. “We’d like to hear about the Grim Widow, ma’am. That is, if you don’t mind sharing?”

  That amused smile the dowager had worn since we first met widened and she actually laughed. “Oh, of course you want to know about the Widow and her duke! It’s a sordid tale, I assure you.”

  The countess then recounted the story of the Grim Widow in much the same way as Arthur had when we’d first asked him. Of course, the dowager’s account held a bit back in that she didn’t mention the fact that the former Countess of Kidwellah had also murdered a number of her husband’s friends and a house servant or two, but she did suggest that the Widow had driven her husband mad and no one knew what had become of him. It was speculated that he died somewhere out on the moors, or perhaps even drowned himself in Lake Byrn y Bach.

  When she’d finished, I took a deep breath and asked, “Ma’am, do you believe there’s any truth to the rumors that the Widow is still murdering people?”

  The dowager waved a dismissive hand. “Oh, pish!” she said. “Of course there’s no truth to that. But if it will help bring the tourists to Kidwellah, then who am I to argue?”

  I felt Heath sit back in surprise. I was pretty shocked too. “You don’t mind that Kidwellah’s resident ghost has a murderous reputation?”

  “Of course not!” she said with a light laugh. “It’s been very good for business, actually. I cannot imagine why anyone would spend their holiday at a frightfully haunted castle, but there are plenty of common folk in the world who seem more than willing to come to my spooky little corner of Wales, and I for one am grateful.”

  I looked again at the lavish surroundings. I couldn’t imagine the dowager was hard up for money, so why would she encourage such rumors about her family’s heritage?

  “You must think me rather vulgar,” she said when both Heath and I sat there a little stunned by her admission.

  “No,” I said quickly. “It’s just. . . surprising.”

  “That I’d want to encourage a story like the Grim Widow’s ghost to entice tourists to come stay at Kidwellah? My dear young lady, the high times of yesteryear’s aristocracy have long gone by! Most of the landed gentry in this country have had to resort to such measures as charging the general public admission for a guided tour of the family home in order to save those estates from ruin. The farmers who once tilled our soils and paid us rent have moved to the cities, and grand estates such as Kidwellah have suffered greatly for it. I would do anything to save my family’s castle, and I am not above turning Kidwellah into a tourist trap in order to keep it from being gobbled up by the tax man and ultimately sold off piece by piece.”

  “So sorry,” I said. “I hadn’t considered that. Still, ma’am, if you’ll pardon my intrusion into your personal affairs, people are dying at Kidwellah Castle. It’s a very dangerous place. Just in the last few days two men and one woman have been mur—”

  “And their killer has been caught!” the dowager interrupted, and it was clear I’d finally struck a chord.

  “I don’t mean to argue with you,” I replied very gently. “But I have my doubts about the man they’ve arrested.”

  “Inspector Lumley told me he feels quite confident he’s arrested the right person,” she countered. “He also believes this male model is responsible for the other two deaths in recent days. A most unsettling thing to have hosted that murderer at Kidwellah, but how was I to know he had such nefarious intentions?”

  “Even if Franco did murder those people, ma’am, I still feel the moat is exceptionally dangerous, and perhaps you might consider draining it?” I asked.

  “Drain the moat?” she repeated, as if she couldn’t believe I’d suggested it. “What is a grand castle like Kidwellah without its moat?! Just another castle in the countryside, I say. No, no, no, Miss Holliday. I will never rob my castle of its most appealing aspect.”

  “Forgive me, ma’am,” Heath said, “but I very nearly drowned in that appealing aspect two days ago.”

  The dowager looked at him in surprise. “You were the young man that fell into the water?”

  “I didn’t exactly fall, ma’am. I was pulled in by the Grim Widow.”

  Lady Hathaway put a hand to her mouth. “Where were you when this happened?” she asked.

  “We were in a little tunnel leading from the main courtyard to the other side of the moat,” Heath told her.

  “Who the devil let you in there?” she demanded. “That area is restricted. Absolutely no one outside of castle staff is allowed in there.”

  I gulped, afraid we were about to get Mr. Crunn in trouble. “We found it ourselves, ma’am, when we heard that the police had discovered Merrick Brown’s body.”

  “The door was unlocked?” she pressed.

  Heath and I exchanged an uncomfortable look. Either way we sliced it, we were about to rat out Crunn. “It was locked, but
then I tried the handle a second time and it gave way. I believe the Widow unlocked it, as ghosts are known for tricks like that,” I said.

  Lady Hathaway narrowed her eyes at me, and I thought she could sniff out the lie, but she didn’t press the point and shifted her gaze to Heath. “Well, you were in a restricted area, Mr. Whitefeather. The castle is perfectly safe if you keep to those areas designated for guests. I should think you would be mindful of that the next time you two attempt to access locked doors.”

  Heath nudged me with his knee. It was clear that the countess was in a state of total denial about the dangers lurking in her family’s estate, and convincing her to shut the doors of the castle, or even to drain the moat, was out of the question.

  Somewhere in the background the dowager’s phone rang and after a moment her butler appeared and said, “Ma’am, the telephone is for you.”

  Heath and I stood up, knowing that was our cue to leave. “Thank you so much for your time,” I said, feeling no real appreciation whatsoever. Still, I managed to tamp down my anger and frustration with our host and move with Heath to the door.

  “Do let me know when your little show will be airing!” the dowager called after us. “I should hope it brings a good crowd of eager ghost-hunting tourists to Kidwellah’s doors!”

  I felt my stomach muscles clench and I had to clamp my jaws together to bite back the remark threatening to bubble up and insult the Countess Lady Hathaway. I desperately wanted to tell her off, but Heath’s gentle hand on my arm kept me on course, and we made our way quickly out of the cottage.

  After we’d gotten to the road, Heath wrapped his arm around my shoulder and pulled me into his side for a hug. “I know you’re mad. . . .”

  “That woman is so. . . so. . . stupid!” I snapped. “And all for the sake of the almighty pound note! Keeping the doors of Kidwellah open so that even more people can drown in her moat? Who does that?”

  “You know what this means, don’t you?”

  I looked up at him, my rant temporarily sidetracked. “Means? No. What does it mean?”