‘Just so,’ replied Twister having, evidently, no sense of humour. ‘Shall we go inside?’
The interior was so gloomy from the general accumulated grime on the window panes that it rather gave the effect of being underwater.
‘Can we put on some lights?’ asked Garden, looking about him dubiously.
‘Only if there were an electricity supply, Mr Garden. I fear the supply has been cut off these many a long year.’ Great!
In some internal hallways and corridors it was necessary for them to put a hand to one of the walls to feel their way along, so dark was it. ‘Is it possible to get the supply restored for the thirty-first?’ asked Holmes, a note of hope in his voice.
‘I fear not. The wires are in too distressed a state for that to be safe. I’m afraid you will have to manage with torches or camping lanterns.’
‘I’m sure we shall manage it,’ said Garden with a confidence he didn’t feel. The atmosphere was damp and choked with disturbed dust, and he felt that this truly was a house that deserved its reputation as a place haunted. Curtains hung in rags from the windows, carpets were moth-eaten and full of holes, cobwebs hung down as traps for the unobservant, and every door creaked.
Holmes, who brought up the rear, suddenly squealed and uttered, ‘Oh, dear God!’
‘What is it? Unexpected cobweb?’ asked Garden with a grin.
‘Ruddy spider: actually landed on my face. Ugh! Get off, you foul thing.’ Holmes was slapping furiously at his person, trying to ascertain whether the creature had actually gone, or was lurking somewhere else about his clothing.
‘You’re surely not frightened by insects, Mr Holmes?’ asked Twister.
‘Only of the eight-legged arachnid variety,’ he replied, his face a mask of horror as he looked up to check whether anything else octoped lurked there.
It seemed like days had passed during their tour round the rambling maze of the house, and it was with great relief that they emerged into daylight again after about thirty minutes. ‘How many bedrooms does that place have?’ asked Holmes, desperately trying to look interested rather than whey-faced and thoroughly unsettled.
‘Don’t actually know,’ admitted Twister. ‘I’ve always stopped counting at twenty on the first floor, then there are all those attic rooms that used to house the staff.’
‘It’s bloody enormous,’ was Garden’s first verbal reaction. ‘How are we supposed to know where to ghost-hunt?’
‘I should station yourselves in the first floor bedrooms on the east side,’ suggested their client.
‘But …’
‘It’s alright, Holmes, I’ve always got a compass in the car, but perhaps Mr Twister could indicate the side of the house where we should station ourselves, by pointing.’
‘Up there.’ Mr Twister did so.
‘So, now we know. We shall be here at dusk on the thirty-first. Thank you for your business,’ Garden ended the visit, and they went their separate ways, Mr Twister having handed over the keys of the property.
Chapter Three
Holmes made an early lunch of soup and a soft bread roll in a nearby café, then returned to the office to brush his teeth, producing a toothbrush and a tube of paste from his briefcase. ‘Here are the keys to the apartment, Garden. I’m depending on you to get Colin comfortably settled after his surgical ordeal this morning.’
‘I’m sure he’ll be suitably sleepy when I’ve let him out of his cat-box,’ replied Garden, quite nonchalant about his coming good deed. He left his mother in sole charge of the business when he left the office, saying that he shouldn’t be too long, and she could always contact him on his mobile if anything important came up.
Colin was waiting for him, absolutely zonko in his plastic conveyance when Garden turned up to collect him. ‘I have a word of caution,’ the vet said before he could leave the practice. ‘Some animals can be quite disorientated when they come round from a general anaesthetic, and he’s now loaded with painkillers and antibiotics. You really ought to stay with him until he is fully conscious again, so that he doesn’t get too anxious.
This declaration left Garden feeling anxious himself but he dutifully carried the rather heavy cat-box out and put it on the back seat of his car before driving towards Holmes’ apartment.
On entering, he put the plastic box on the floor and opened the end so that Colin could exit it on waking. He then went to the kitchen to make himself some coffee, knowing that Holmes always had some nice Columbian in his kitchen. A little rummaging even produced a mug, instead of one of the dainty cups and saucers the owner usually used.
Walking back into the living room, he noticed that Colin was stirring, and trying to stand up. The cat got his front legs out of the cat-box and promptly fell over. Garden chuckled quietly to himself. The cat made another attempt to get out of his temporary sleeping quarters, and this time made it to the hearthrug where he promptly collapsed again.
‘Not such a big boy now, are you?’ said Garden, with a smile.
Colin looked around, being for the first time conscious of the fact that he had company, and he glared. Garden slowly approached one of the Chesterfield sofas, with the object of settling himself down with his coffee until Colin had completely recovered, then high-tailing it out of here.
Colin wobbled uncertainly to his feet again and turned in Garden’s direction, commencing to hiss. Garden held his nerve, as the vet had said, he might be quite groggy when he woke up.
Colin started to growl deep in his throat, something which Garden didn’t realise a cat could do. The cat, looking inebriated, staggered a few steps towards the figure of Garden, who was not quite at the sofa yet, but frozen to the spot with trepidation.
‘There’s a nice kitty, Colin. It’s only your Uncle John come to visit you,’ declared Garden in soothing tones. The sound of his voice was like a red rag to a bull, and Colin showed his teeth, then hissed ferociously. With a howl of indignation at the presence of such a person in his territory, the feline launched himself at his cat-sitter.
Still being slightly under the influence of the anaesthetic, the cat missed, but Garden, considering that cowardice was the better part of self-preservation, dropped his mug of coffee in fright and fled from the room, slamming the door behind him.
Hastily scribbling a note which he left on the hall table, informing the owner of the property that he had spilled a cup of coffee in his living room, Garden fled to his car, his legs shaking. If Colin had really still been affected, all it had done was to make him more vociferous in his true feelings for his owner’s business partner. The last thing he heard was a howl of fury and the sound of the cat hurling himself against the firmly closed door.
He hadn’t really registered it until now, but the vet had had a few sticking plasters on his hands, and he would bet good money that his injuries were down to Holmes’ beloved Colin. And he wouldn’t go back into that room for all the tea in China. Holmes was a truly deluded man if he thought Colin was such a cuddle-bunny.
Chapter Four
The next morning, Holmes bustled in, very bristly about the coffee that had been spilled on his floorboards and precious rug. ‘Took me ages to get it out, and I can still see where it was, if I look carefully,’ he moaned at Garden. ‘And you got a mug out of my kitchen cupboard. I thought I’d got that well hidden away. I usually only use it for cocoa. Whatever came over you, man?’
‘How is Colin?’ asked Garden, trying to change the subject.
‘I found him soundly asleep on the chair. I checked his dressing, and he hadn’t been chewing it: in the main, he just ignores it, which is good news as his stitches will need time to heal.’ Suddenly becoming aware that he had been bamboozled, Holmes returned to the previous subject.
‘You left me a note that you had spilled some coffee, but why the dickens didn’t you clear it up before you left? Most unmannerly.’
‘You don’t know what that animal was like when he woke up,’ Garden said in his own defence.
‘That
animal? That’s my Colin that you’re talking about. He’s a very friendly cat.’
‘Look here, Holmes; the vet said he might act strangely when he came round, and when he did wake up, he was absolutely wild.’
‘I can hardly believe it. What did he do?’
‘Well, he fell over a few times trying to find all four of his legs at the same time.’
‘My poor baby!’
‘Then, he started hissing and growling, then he just flew at me. Fortunately, as he wasn’t quite himself, he missed, I dropped my coffee, and ran out of the room, shutting the door behind me. He even threw himself at the door after I shut it.’
‘Garden, you obviously don’t understand that cat. And I truly believe you suffer from hallucinations. Hrmph!’
Garden let this go and went off to put on the kettle; normally his mother’s job, but he didn’t fancy an argument with his partner so early in the day. When he had distributed the cups of coffee, he went to his desk and asked in a conciliatory way how Holmes’ tooth was.
‘Just a filling, fortunately.’ Holmes was still feeling a bit tetchy.
‘How about we both try to draw a plan of that house from memory? I know it’s a long shot, but if we get the general run of the rooms, it might help us on our mission.’
Holmes brightened up at this suggestion, and they both set to, to reproduce as much as they could of floor plans for the property in which they would be spending the night on the thirty-first. As they were about this task, they heard someone enter the front office and ask if they stocked Hallowe’en decorations, and Shirley’s patient explanation that they were not in the business of selling such fripperies. ‘That’s the third one this week,’ declared Holmes. ‘Why can’t they read the sign on the window properly? I’ve had the thing re-done.’
‘Maybe we should have some cards from an optician’s on our counter. We could have a reciprocal agreement. Anyone who moans whilst having their eyes tested about some niggling problem that needs looking into, the optician could give them one of our cards, and when someone comes in here for decorating or garden materials, we could give them one of his.’
‘Sort of, cross-seed, you mean?’
‘Exactly.’
‘Not a bad idea.’ Holmes contentedly returned to his plan, his tongue sticking out of the corner of his mouth in concentration.
At the end of this mapping task, they both felt pretty pleased with their efforts but, on comparison, their plans were totally different to each other’s. ‘Holmes, you’ve got the morning room opening off the drawing room, and it’s off the hall.’
‘No it isn’t. I distinctly remember walking through the drawing room to get to the morning room,’ replied Holmes indignantly.
‘You did, but there are adjoining doors from one to the other, apart from the entrance from the hall. And you’ve got the stairs coming up in the wrong place and have missed out two or three bedrooms on the first floor. And both of the bathrooms.’
‘I didn’t actually see any bathrooms.’
‘That’s because you were too busy disentangling yourself from that spider and looking to see if there were any more lurking in the vicinity.’
‘Truce. Truth to tell, I’m not very good at maps and plans and things like that. Let me look at yours more closely.’ Taking Garden’s plan, Holmes perused it earnestly and finally sighed. ‘This looks very like what we walked round. I suggest we use this one.’
‘It won’t be long before we’re back there and actually using this to help us navigate. Now, what do we need in the way of equipment?
‘Compass, just in case,’ suggested Holmes.
‘For indoors?’ queried Garden.
‘I get very easily lost with twisty, turny staircases, and I remember, as a child, I had to be led out of the maze at Hampton court, in tears. I missed the best of the trip because I couldn’t get out of the dratted thing, then, when they counted heads to get back in the coach, they realised I was missing and sent out a search party.’
‘Compass. Check,’ intoned Garden.
‘We’ll need a good supply of lamps. I’ve got a couple of Gaz lamps.’
‘So has Mother. And we could bring plenty of candles and torches. I expect we’ll need sandwiches and flasks as well, if we’re going to be there all night.’
‘Good idea. And a book.’
‘And toilet paper,’ added Garden firmly, for he had been caught out on this one in several locations. ‘The facilities might be available, but the necessary paper wasn’t.’
‘Why?’
‘I’d rather not say but, believe you me, we’ll need it.’
Holmes suddenly twigged to what Garden was suggesting, and coughed to cover his embarrassment.
‘Now, what will we need in the way of technical equipment? We’ll need a means of recording anything that we hear. We’ll need torches to shine on anything dodgy, and we’ll need cameras, and telephones,’ said Garden.
‘Won’t that all be a bit bulky?’
‘Not at all. We’ve got them all-in-one in our mobile phones.’
‘Good thinking, John H. Good thinking.’
‘What about a duvet or eiderdown to keep warm? The evenings are getting a little chilly, and the nights even more so.’
‘Good grief, we shall need a removal van if you think of anything else. We must just dress properly for the occasion: woolly hats, gloves, scarves and a decent wool overcoat.’
‘Appropriate clothing,’ droned Garden. ‘Check.’
‘I hope you’re making a list.’
‘Of course I am.’
Shirley Garden, their receptionist/secretary waltzed in as they were about their listing activity and declared that she had completed the window decorations to her satisfaction, and she urged them to come with her to see what she had done. ‘I took the money out of petty cash,’ she informed them as they went into the front office.
Holmes took one look at the black cut-out witches on their broomsticks, the black cats, the bats and the pumpkin head glowing eerily behind a curtain that Shirley had stood on a chair to pin up, turned purple, and walked off without a word. He was too cross to talk.
‘We had to make some sort of an effort, not just to attract people to the window, but because you actually have a case connected with Hallowe’en,’ she explained.
‘And just how many more people are we going to have coming here in search of similar decorations now that you’ve done that. As Ebenezer Scrooge once said, “I shall retire to Bedlam”.’ Evidently, Holmes had recovered his ability to speak.
Chapter Five
They left the office closed during the day of the thirty-first at Holmes’ behest, as he didn’t want them to be bedevilled by children in horror fancy-dress coming round begging for rewards, not for doing something, but for not doing anything.
All three of them met in the rear office about an hour before dusk, the men to gather together all their equipment, Shirley to provide them both with a feast of sandwiches and cake. ‘I’m going to take my sturdy old cassette recorder,’ announced Holmes. ‘I stocked up on blank cassettes before they became unavailable, and I’ve got four new ones here. We could leave it running in the hall to catch any sound that emanates from down there, if we’re going up to those bedrooms.’
‘How long are they?’ asked Garden in concern.
‘They’re C120s.’
‘So we’ll have to keep coming downstairs to change them over, or put in a new one.’
‘I must admit. I hadn’t thought of that; but I don’t see that it’ll be a bother,’ countered Holmes.
‘It will be if there’s something afoot down there. Would you fancy going on your own if there’s wailing and the clanking of chains?’
‘We’d go together.’
‘Then I’ll just fetch my baseball bat from upstairs: an unwanted gift that I knew would come in handy someday.’
‘You’ve got a baseball bat?’
‘Yep.’
‘Good luck, my brave ghost-hun
ters,’ Shirley bade them, as they loaded all the things they needed into their cars.
Garden was the last to leave the office, determinedly clutching his precious toilet roll in one hand and his baseball bat in the other.
The light was definitely failing as they reached the house, and it looked even more menacing than it had done on their last visit. Some of the windows seemed to be eyes, watching their every movement, as they unloaded their equipment. After all, an uninhabited house during the hours of darkness has almost a duty to emanate a sinister and malign ambience. Its very existence hints at threats and danger, and chills ordinary mortal blood to the marrow.
With a deep breath to summon courage, Holmes said, ‘We’ll put everything in the hall, then we’ll take it upstairs from there, after I’ve set my cassette to record. And we’ll stick together. If anything happens, it will need more than one witness for it to have a chance of being believed.’ Garden smiled in the gloom, sensing that this was more a mild act of cowardice than an attempt at efficiency.
It took them two trips upstairs carrying lamps, candles, duvets, sandwiches, and flasks, but eventually Holmes declared that they would ‘bivvy’ in the middle bedroom on the east side. It was a large room in which there still existed a musty old double bed and two stout armchairs. ‘At least we can take our ease while we watch and wait,’ he said.
They opted for first choice to use the armchairs, both of them thinking that it would be rather improper for both of them to stretch out on the bed together, but Garden had the feeling that, in the middle of the night, they may have to amalgamate their bedcovers into one space for maximum warmth. For now, he kept his mouth shut. Necessity is the mother not only of invention, but also of un-convention.
As Holmes lit the camping lamps, Garden made so bold as to point out that the morning room did, indeed, have an entrance from the vestibule, but Holmes only grunted in reply, obviously not about to dignify this undoubtedly true statement with a reply. Instead, he said, ‘Shall we grab a bite to eat? Shirley has labelled the sandwiches, and we’ve got cheese and pickle and ham and tomato. She’s also done a flask of tea and one of coffee.’
The Bookcase of Sherman Holmes: A Holmes and Garden Anthology Page 11
