by Carrie Marsh
“Oh, it's Mrs. Poole! She's...gone funny.” The older woman explained.
“Funny.”
Laura met this remark with trepidation. In her experience of villages – which had, she reasoned, never included a village anywhere near as small as Millerfield – the term “funny” could mean anything from a bad cough to an epileptic fit, with every gradation of illness in between.
“Very funny indeed,” Mrs. Levit expanded. “...terrible funny, she is.” She shook her head.
“Oh.”
Wonderful, Laura thought. The cook has gone “very funny indeed”, something went missing from a guest's room, and we have an entire coach party arriving for lunch. And, why, she thought as they headed down the warren of corridors that joined kitchen to dining hall, is it down to me to fix it?
As they neared the kitchen, Laura's worst misgivings were realized. She could hear someone – Mrs. Poole, presumably – wailing loudly.
“I saw it! I did! It was there! Right there...” the voice exclaimed.
Oh, heck, Laura thought. Doing her best to look calm and collected, she walked through the doorway.
“What is it, Mrs. Poole?” She asked. “Did you see something awful?”
“Oh, yes!” The woman agreed. Her eyes were wide, and she pointed towards the cupboards behind Laura with a trembling finger. “I saw a ghost, Miss Howcroft! It was there, right there! As plain as day it was, and tall, and wispy, like, with no face to speak of! Oh...” she sat down and covered her face with her hands and wailed again.
“Oh. Hell.” Laura sighed. “There aren't such things as ghosts, Mrs. Poole. I assure you...”
“No! It was there! No ghosts, indeed!” She said scornfully. “Pah! I saw it!” she collapsed again into sobs.
“She'll have a nervous attack, she will,” one of her assistants said helpfully. “She's my granny. Happens all the time, nervous attacks...she's got a weak heart...”
Laura stared. “Well, in that case, shouldn't we call a doctor? He can do something...sedate her, maybe...”
Everyone's eyes lit up at the suggestion.
“Oh, yes...” Mrs. Poole's granddaughter breathed. “Would you call him on the office phone?”
Laura felt her heart sink. There was only one doctor: Doctor Lucas. The man with the mesmeric eyes whom she had insulted yesterday.
“Fine,” she said briskly. “I'll go right upstairs and call him.”
The doctor, it seemed, was on his way there anyway, to fetch his lunch. He answered his mobile in the traffic.
“Doctor Lucas. Can I help?”
“Maybe...” Laura said guardedly. “I'm calling from Woodend Cottage Hotel. We're having a problem with our cook. Can you come?”
At the mention of Woodend Cottage Hotel, the doctor's voice seemed to acquire a layer of ice.
“Mm,” he said briefly. “I'll be there in ten minutes.”
Ten minutes later, Laura was showing him down to the kitchen. As they walked, they conversed stiffly.
“When was this reported?”
“About twenty minutes ago, doctor...”
“Mm,” he replied, and Laura sensed a judgment there, a “why-didn't-you-call-sooner”. He looked up from his notebook. “And was there any attempt at sedation?”
“No, doctor. “
He scribbled something as they walked, then continued. “Any history of hallucinations? Mania?”
“Not that I know of, doctor...”
“In what state is the patient...?”
“Um...” Laura wasn't sure how to answer that. “She's very funny indeed, doctor,” she replied.
He looked into her eyes, and Laura saw a glimpse of humor there.
“She is, is she...?” he smiled.
“Absolutely.”
They both laughed.
When the doctor had calmed the patient, and left her with some sedatives, Laura led him upstairs.
“Thank you, doctor,” she said gratefully.
“It's my job,” he said briefly.
“Are you staying for lunch?” Laura asked.
“Mm...” he checked his watch. “I can't. I'm on call in ten minutes.”
“Very well,” Laura agreed. “See you tomorrow.”
“Probably.”
The doctor walked out, leaving Laura feeling strangely bereft. Her reverie was interrupted by Janet, hands flapping with agitation.
“Laura!” “Mm?”
“The coach party is here! All fifty of them...and they're all staying for lunch!” “Okay,” Laura said, and shrugged. “We can do it. Cook's fine.” “Oh!” Janet breathed. “Ta, Laura! How did you do it?”
Laura smiled smugly. “Magic,” she replied.
Janet gave her an odd look, then grinned.
“You're foreign, but I like you.” she smiled.
Laura sat down at the desk feeling quite proud.
CHAPTER FOUR
MORE MYSTERIOUS
The morning sat lightly on the countryside, and the fields smelled of fresh dew and summer roses. Laura found herself feeling lighter than she had for weeks, since before the move to Millerfield.
This whole place isn't so bad, she thought, looking up at the Woodend Cottage Hotel – its quaint thatched roof, the lantern above the door, window-boxes filled with geraniums.
And Monty was enjoying it, which was a big bonus. He had caught a rat the previous day, and proudly told her the story – something which made her feel queasy, but it was good he was settling in. So was she.
“Good morning,” she sang out as she entered the hotel.
“Morning, Laura,” Janet greeted her.
She took up her station behind the desk and readied herself for the day.
“Miss.?” A youth of about eighteen appeared at Laura's counter, just before lunch. He was roughly-dressed, his hair a thick, unruly mess of curls. He looked like a farm-hand.
“Can I help you?”
“I'm Mrs. Poole's grandson,” he explained shyly, “and granny wanted to thank you for takin' care of her yesterday. She sent you this, and she also says she's sorry she can't be in. Rebecca is taking over for her.” He reached into his knapsack and produced a bottle of preserved cherries.
“Oh!” Laura exclaimed. She was truly touched. “Thank you.”
“No worries, Miss,” he said, blushing pink.
“Thank your granny for me, too,” Laura added as he turned to leave. “How is she doing?”
“She's well, Miss,” the youth replied.”Restin' at home, like the doctor did say she should.” Then his face darkened. “But I do think there's something funny going around the village, so I do...”
“Funny?” Laura was instantly alert.
“Well,” he leaned over, conspiratorial. “My boss, Farmer Hogarth – he had a funny turn yesterday, too!”
“A funny turn.”
“Yeah!” The youth enthused. “He also thought he saw something! In the sheds, down at the end of the field...”
“He saw something.”
“Yeah! A ghost. Just like Granny thought she saw!” he said darkly.
“Oh.” Laura swallowed. That was odd. Farmer Hogarth owned the last farm in the village – a rambling plot on the edge of the woods, separating the woodland from the main road. How could he have seen the same thing Mrs. Poole had seen? And why?
“Well, I'd best head back there now,” the youth said amiably, “be seein' you!”
“Thanks!” Laura called after him. “Be seeing you, too.” She frowned, perplexed.
Two people in the village – on opposite sides of the village – saw the same ghost, on the same day? That was odd.
“Is there a disease that makes people hallucinate?” she asked herself aloud.
The thought was disconcerting, and the fact that Mrs. Poole was the restaurant chef made it even more so. If she was ill, by tomorrow half the village could be afflicted! Farmer Hogarth did eat at the hotel yesterday, too...
Doctor Lucas was sitting at his usual table, she noticed.
She felt too shy to ask him, and decided to Google it instead.
She opened the first article – she noticed there were a quarter of a million of them – and started reading.
“Miss Howcroft?”
Laura jumped.
“I want to settle my tab,” Dr. Lucas asked pleasantly.
“Oh, doctor!” Laura smiled. “Of course...”
“Are you reading WebMD?” he asked, as she closed the browser.
“No...yes,” Laura stammered, feeling like a shy teenager.
“Could I ask what you were looking for?” Dr. Lucas asked. He seemed interested.
“Nothing, really...”
“I'm a doctor – I don't get shocked. Or embarrassed.” Dr. Lucas smiled.
“Well...” Laura swallowed. “It wasn't for me – I was just wondering: Is there an illness that makes people see things? Hallucinate, I mean.”
“Why?” The doctor's voice was instantly alert, and Laura felt embarrassed to have asked.
“Mrs. Poole, our cook you treated yesterday: Remember she thought she saw a ghost? Now her grandson tells me Farmer Hogarth saw the same ghost, and...I was just wondering...” Laura dried up.
“He did?” Dr. Lucas raised a brow. “That is strange. Very strange...”
“I thought so, too,” Laura agreed.
“Hogarth Place is on the other side of the village...”
“Mm,” Laura agreed. “It's odd.”
“Very odd,” the doctor commented. “Now, I don't think either of them has an illness – sharing a hallucination is extremely unlikely – but, would you keep quiet about this?” he leaned across the counter, intently. “If it spreads, the whole village will be seeing it!” he added, laughing.
Laura grinned, despite herself. He had such a boyish smile. It took years off him, she thought. He could be a naughty teenager, when he grinned like that...
“Miss Howcroft?” He was looking at her expectantly.
“Mm? Oh!” Laura blushed. “Your bill. Here you are, doctor.”
“Thank you,” he said absently, and perused it, then reached into his pocket for his card.
“Thanks,” Laura said, and reached for the card. When she passed it back, their fingers touched. Laura felt the contact like electricity, and knew her cheeks were flushed.
“Thank you, Miss Hogarth,” the doctor agreed, smiling. “Now that I am settled for last month, I can at least eat here again tomorrow.”
Having said this, he walked casually to the door.
Laura stared after him, feeling alight with emotions.
He would be there for lunch tomorrow. Was that meant to mean something?
Humming softly to herself, she turned back to her work.
CHAPTER FIVE
SHOCK
“Laura...Laura!”
The phone against Laura's ear felt cold. She was not surprised. It was five a.m., and the nights were still icy.
“Yes...?” she asked tiredly.
“It's me! Janet,” the voice said urgently. “I'm at the hotel. You have to come quickly. Please...”
“Slow down, Janet,” Laura said, worried. “What's the matter? Why are you at work at five a.m.?”
“I got called here by Chelsea...it's terrible...oh!”
“Please,” Laura said through gritted teeth, “be a bit more specific. What is terrible?”
“The body!” Janet said.
Laura stared.
“Please come?” Janet asked.
“Of course,” Laura agreed. She put the phone down and sat up in bed, paralyzed.
The body.
Was Janet also seeing things?
“Only one way to find out...” Laura sighed. She swung her legs out of the bed and reached for her clothes.
As she walked down the street, coat pulled tight against the cold, she realized something was very badly wrong. She could hear sirens, and, up ahead, see the blue lights of police cars, winking laconically in the night.
“Oh, hell...” she muttered.
As she neared the place, she saw a small crowd around the steps. Looking up, she noticed Janet, coming out of the door with some policemen.
“Janet!”
“Laura...oh, thank Goodness...”
The two women embraced, and Janet pulled her to the edge of the small crowd.
“What is it?”
“It's Mr. Ramley. He's dead...”
“Oh...” Laura put her hand over her mouth. She remembered Mr. Ramley – he stood out for the same reason she did. He was also a “foreigner”; a businessman, newly down from London.
“Chelsea found him when she came in this morning to clean the restaurant. He was sitting at the table...oh...” Janet covered her eyes with her hand.
“In the restaurant?”
“Yes!” Janet said. “In the table by the window, just sitting there, like he was asleep, only...he looked dead, Laura. I can't explain it...” Janet shuddered.
Laura swallowed hard. It was her third day at work, and a man had been found dead, in the restaurant she managed! It was terrible.
“He had been there all night?” she asked cautiously.
“He must have been!” Janet said distractedly. “I didn't touch him, but Chelsea did, and she said he was cold...”
“Chelsea. Is she okay?” Laura asked. “It must have been a terrible shock...”
“She's in there now. Dr. Lucas is with her...” Janet waved a hand at the hotel door, where two policemen stood, observing who went in and out.
“Can we go inside?” Laura asked. It was cold outside, and, besides, she wanted to talk to Dr. Lucas. If anyone could make sense out of this, Laura reasoned, it was him.
“We can try...” Janet shrugged. They walked up the stone steps.
“I.D.?” The policeman on Laura's right asked.
“Here...” Laura passed it over.
“Your purpose here?”
“I work here,” Laura explained.
“You aren't on the list of employees here...” the policeman said sternly.
Laura heard someone hiss in a breath behind her. She turned around and caught some of the assembled crowd of villagers staring at her.
“I'm new here,” she explained hollowly, turning back to the policeman who still held her I.D. book.
“Yes, officer! She started on Monday!” Janet said stoutly. “She's with me, and I'm going to vouch for her.”
“Very well,” the policeman said, sounding skeptical. He wrote something down in his notebook, then passed Laura her I.D. book. Laura shivered.
Inside, she turned to Janet. “They think it's me, don't they?”
“No...” Janet said reassuringly. “I'm sure it's just standard practice...”
Laura swallowed hard.
As she walked through the lobby doors, that had only recently become familiar, she noticed a cleaner looking at her with open hostility.
“You're wrong, Janet,” she whispered under her breath, “they do think so.”
She was the Foreigner. Suspect number one.
CHAPTER SIX
SUSPECT
The blue light from the police cars winked slowly across the scene, blinking at regular intervals through the vast window separating the restaurant from the fields.
Mr. Ramley sat in the chair by the window.
He was slumped slightly forward, and it would have been easy to think he slept, except that his eyes were open, staring fixedly ahead.
“Oh,” Laura said faintly.
She had, she realized, never seen a body before. She had had no idea what to expect. She understood, then, what Janet meant: He looked dead.
“Miss Howcroft?”
“Doctor Lucas,” Laura said, voice strained.
Doctor Lucas stood beside the body, wearing latex gloves. He looked entirely unperturbed. Laura, standing in the doorway, the closest to the dining-room she was allowed by the police, watched, horrified. He drew up a syringe of the man's blood from the vein of the forearm and when he had finished,
he placed the vial, very carefully, into a cooler-box.
He walked away from the seat, then, and took off his gloves, dumping them and the syringe into a yellow plastic bag marked: “bio-hazard”. He walked over to the door, face blank and serene.
“Blood for analysis. Best to take it out now.” He sighed.
Laura, looking closely, noticed how tired he looked, his eyes ringed with dark patches the color of a bruise.
“I guess so,” Laura said, and shrugged. She knew nothing of these matters. Doctor Lucas walked out of the room, carrying his bag, and nodded to the police who waited at the doorway.
“I'm finished. You can go in, now.”
He walked with Laura to the reception area. It was strange, Laura thought, but he seemed to want company. She stood with him at the desk. He leaned on it and ran his fingers through his hair, exhausted.
“This is a mess,” he said, wearily.
“It is?”
“A London businessman, coming down here and being murdered in our village?” The doctor laughed, mirthlessly. “It's going to be all over the press.”
“I guess,” Laura said again, and swallowed hard.
“It is.” the doctor affirmed. “And people aren't going to be too happy about it. You've seen how jumpy the locals can be...” he added, and grinned at her.
“Yes...” Laura agreed slowly. That was what was bothering her. Even standing here at the desk, with Dr. Lucas, she could see two of the hotel staff, looking across at her and whispering. When they caught her looking, they both stared, pointedly. Then they moved off, continuing to talk, loudly, about something else. “Doctor...” she said slowly.
“Yes?” Doctor Lucas asked, still sitting behind the desk, head in his hands.
“They think I did it.”
“What?” Doctor Lucas looked up, straight into her eyes. “No, lass,” he said, reassuring. “I'm sure they don't...” “They do!” Laura blurted out. She felt terrible, burdening the man when he already had so much to concern him. But she could not stop herself. The sudden hostility was scaring her.
“They might,” the doctor conceded. “You are new, here, after all.” He chuckled. “I remember when I was new here...if old Dr. Price hadn't given me a personal introduction to all the patients, they wouldn't have trusted me to make tea!”
