44 Gilmore Street

by Shani Struthers

  Immediately Kaylee was on the defensive. “You calling me a liar?”

  “A liar? No, no of course not.”

  “There is a ghost. Talk to it, that’s what you’re supposed to do isn’t it?”

  “There isn’t a ghost.”

  “There is.”

  The child continued sobbing.

  Oh for Christ’s sake, I could do without this!

  Thank goodness Theo or Ness weren’t here to catch her uncharitable thoughts. Perhaps she ought to show willing. Put on a show as it were – tune in for a few moments and then tell her again that there was nothing ‘intelligent’ to tune into. She pointed towards a chair. “Do you mind if I take a seat? I want to close my eyes and concentrate.”

  “What for?”

  She explained.

  “Be my guest,” the girl answered. Considering this was what she wanted, she seemed begrudging all of a sudden.

  The seat was as grubby as the flat’s occupants, with dried on jam stuck to one corner. Lowering herself she carefully avoided that patch. How she wished Kaylee would pick the baby up, do something to distract her at least. But she didn’t, she just stood there staring at Ruby. Doing her best under the circumstances, Ruby cleared her throat and closed her eyes – sitting perfectly still as she did so. Rather than connect, she remembered Cash’s constant worry about her carrying out initial surveys alone and how often she remonstrated with him about it. Right now though, she felt he had a point: a good one. Jed barring the doorway also sprung to mind. He’d been trying to stop her she realised. Somehow he’d sensed there was trouble waiting. She had to get out of here.

  Opening her eyes, she stood up.

  “Kaylee, there is nothing here, no ghost, nothing to connect to, nada. And I think you know that. Whatever your purpose is in getting me here, I’m not interested. I’m leaving now. Please don’t call the offices of Psychic Surveys again unless your problem is a genuine one.”

  The girl burst out laughing, but it wasn’t a pleasant sound.

  “Of course we’re not haunted, no one is, you nutter. Carl, get out here.”

  The bedroom door burst open and a young man, also in tracksuit bottoms and a grubby tee shirt, appeared. “Kay, I said get her to talk about the ‘ghost’ so we could quote her. Why’d you have to go and balls it up?”

  “Bitch is onto us in’t she? Just grab a few photos, that’ll have to do. The papers will still pay for ’em.”

  The papers would pay for photos of her? So that’s what this charade was all about? Like a geyser seeking release, anger exploded.

  “You bloody idiots! Are you seriously that desperate for money? If you are, here’s a tip, try getting a job. It’s the middle of the day, you should be working not lazing around here in this cesspit, ignoring that poor baby.”

  “That’s it, photograph her, Carl. And press the record button on your phone too, we can say how she swore at us in front of Madison.”

  Ruby felt like flying at the girl, at pulling her hair out, kicking her to the ground. How much she wanted to do that surprised even her. She had to struggle to remain in control, to clamp down on any more words that fought to surge upwards from deep within. Vile words. Profanities. The worst kind. She could almost feel sympathy for someone like Ben. But that’s what this was all about, Ben and the Gilmore case. That’s what had brought her to the attention of people such as this in the first place. She’d wished she’d never set foot in there as well as here. But she had. It was too late on both counts.

  Pushing past Carl, hurtling down the hallway, her hair flying behind her, she knew in the next set of press photos she’d look anything but normal.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Back at the office, Ruby was shaking so hard her teeth were chattering. Jed was looking up at her. The expression on his face wasn’t smug – although he had every right to feel that way – it was decidedly sympathetic.

  “I’m sorry,” she told him, when she’d calmed. “I’ll listen to you next time. I promise.” Blinking back tears, she added, “Thanks for trying to help.”

  Jed dropped to the floor and curled up.

  Placing her elbows on the table, Ruby let her head fall forward into her hands. Caught swearing in front of a child – even if it had only been ‘bloody’ – it was more ammunition against her. When she was a child and had told her best friend about her gift despite her grandmother advising her not to, she had been nicknamed Spooky Ruby. She had managed to turn the tables though and pointed out that it was Lisa who was weird for even suggesting such a thing. No longer best friends, she’d saved her own bacon at the expense of someone else’s – an act of survival. Would she survive what was happening now? Perhaps. If she solved the Gilmore case.

  Grabbing her phone, she was about to text Theo to ask if she’d found anything of use regarding Ben, when she heard her call up the stairs.

  “Yoo-hoo, darling. Only me.”

  Ruby had never been so glad to hear her.

  Theo bustled into the room, a big smile on her face. Hope dared to surge in Ruby. She wouldn’t be smiling if her trip to Southern Rail’s Brighton office had proved fruitless would she?

  “Theo—”

  Before she could answer there was more movement on the landing outside and then Corinna appeared, followed by Ness. Both of them, Ruby was glad to note, also looking pleased. Putting the Grant episode behind her for now, she concentrated instead on what they had to say.

  “Amazing really, what you can achieve in person, as opposed to on the phone. I simply fixed that nice man in the rail office with my most charming of smiles and he crumpled, said he’d ask around immediately regarding Ben, and he did. Just like that,” Theo clicked her fingers as she said it.

  Ruby could well imagine what had really happened. Theo had squared her shoulders, thrown her head back and stood there as though she owned the world – believing she actually did and convincing the man in front of her too.

  “So,” Ruby prompted, eager to hear the next instalment, “he asked around and someone came forward?”

  “They did,” Corinna took up the story, settling herself into one of the chairs around the meeting table and swigging from a plastic bottle of cola. “Benjamin worked on the railways all his life, nothing high-powered, he was part of a maintenance team. He loved the trains apparently; they were his passion. The man who knew him thought they might be his only passion.”

  Ruby frowned. “Sorry? I don’t understand.”

  “You guessed Ben might have Asperger’s, well the man we talked to, Will, he swore one hundred percent that was the case. Will’s an old guy too, he’s in his late sixties and fighting off retirement for as long as he can, said he’s dreading it.” Corinna paused to swig further. “Said he wants to work forever.”

  “How long did Will work with Ben?” Ruby asked.

  “Just a few years,” answered Theo, “but he didn’t have a bad word to say about him. Said he was an amiable enough fellow, very shy but good at what he did. Meticulous even. Kept himself to himself, as we know was his preference but he wasn’t bothersome in any way. Never upset anyone or got into trouble with the bosses, always punctual, that sort of thing. Never took a day ill, despite the fact he was getting on. He was asked to works dos every now and then but never went. Preferred to go home and watch the telly.”

  “So much so he died in front of it,” remarked Ruby.

  “If only we could say he died happy,” Theo countered.

  There was a brief moment of silence in which Ruby considered telling them about what had just happened to her but quickly, before her thoughts could be detected, she changed her mind. Right now she wanted to focus on what was being said about Ben, to feel as if she was getting somewhere.

  “Did Will mention anything else significant?”

  “Yes he did actually. It turns out Will has a nephew who’s on the spectrum too and he made a very good point. People with Asperger’s or any form of autism are no more likely to commit acts of violence than people
who don’t have the condition. Sure enough, there might be problems with anxiety and relationships, but that doesn’t necessarily translate into violence, why should it? He says he’s sick of the bad press autistic people get because they’re different. Something we can understand.”

  Ness was nodding in agreement. “I managed to speak to a few people who ‘knew’ Ben too, most notably the woman who runs the corner shop. She told me he was a frequent visitor; that he popped in almost every day to get his paper and a Mars Bar. She said he never spoke to her, never even really looked her in the eye but he always smiled as he handed over his money.”

  “Never looked her in the eye?” Ruby queried.

  “That’s right, but if he was on the spectrum, that’s a common enough thing to do, or rather not do.” Clearing her throat, she continued. “There was someone else too, a chap who lives in one of the streets nearby. I think perhaps their daily visits to the corner shop coincided, as he only ever bumped into Ben on the street. But apparently they’d nod at each other, exchange a ‘how do you do?’ This chap, Duncan, was annoyed actually with the intimation that it’s Ben dwelling in Gilmore Street still. ‘He seemed like a decent sort,’ he said. ‘Not likely to cause any trouble, this side or the other.’ Told me that Psychic Surveys was slandering his good name. Said he’d be turning in his grave if he knew.” Ness laughed, a sound Ruby wished she heard more often. “I was tempted to say ‘that might well be the case, if he was in it.’” She grew serious again. “I refrained of course. Pointed out that it wasn’t strictly us doing the slandering, that it was the press.”

  “And what did he say to that?” enquired Ruby.

  “Said we were both as bad as each other.”

  Ruby sat back in her chair and sighed. “No surprise there then. So, the general consensus is that Ben’s a nice guy, harmless, no threat to anyone. Similar to what we know already, from what Delia told us.”

  “It does seem to concur,” agreed Theo. “I know I’m repeating myself, but people wear masks. They rarely show the world their true colours.”

  Ness spoke again. “I’d be inclined to think the same, but for a third person I spoke to, the landlord of The Evening Star on Surrey Street, which is about a five minute walk from Gilmore Street. As well as chocolate, Ben also liked the occasional pint and it’s there that he went to get it.”

  “So the Landlord was singing his praises too?” Ruby couldn’t help it she was growing disheartened again.

  “He was,” answered Ness, “told me he sat at the end of the bar, never actively engaged in conversation but was pleasant enough when spoken too, smiled a lot, even if it was into the distance he was smiling. But something else happened, something far more interesting.”

  “What?” A little spark caught light inside Ruby.

  “Well,” Ness, normally so composed, looked excited too, her dark eyes lively. “It was a winter’s evening, Ben had popped into the pub, first time he’d done so in a while apparently, but he ordered his drink and sat in his usual spot. After he’d finished, he placed his pint down on the table and made his way home. The thing is, he’d left his scarf at the bar. The Landlord, Rob, decided to go after him, as it was a quiet night and he wasn’t the only member of staff on duty.” Ness paused. “He seems like a kind man does Rob, the sort that wouldn’t want an old man to be without his scarf in cold weather. Ben was quite far ahead but Rob hurried after him, caught up with him at the entrance to his house on Gilmore Street, just as he was opening the door, as he was going in. ‘I’ve got your scarf,’ he said, holding it aloft. Ben seemed initially frightened by his sudden appearance but then relaxed when he saw who it was. As Rob put it, he sort of barged his way into Ben’s house, didn’t give him a chance to close the door on him. He wanted to check the old man was okay you know? He worried about him.”

  Corinna’s eyes widened. “Was it awful inside? A hovel?”

  “I asked that. He said it was old-fashioned but it was homely enough.”

  “Samantha said the work they had to do to it after buying it at auction was extensive,” Ruby highlighted.

  “Yes, I’m sure it was,” Ness replied, “but according to Rob the décor wasn’t really a concern, not at all. It was the atmosphere that was.”

  “The atmosphere?” Theo raised an eyebrow.

  “Yes, they went through to the kitchen, Ben took the scarf from him, still avoiding eye contact and placed it on the table, thanking him. Rob said he felt nervous, as if there was someone else in the house with them. He said he’d felt it in the hallway but in the kitchen it was intense. Again, worried for Ben, he asked him if he was all right, whether there was anything more he could do for him. Ben shook his head and said no. Rob was really reluctant to leave and Ben must have picked up on this. He told him to go, said he’d be all right, that he was perfectly safe. Thinking it was odd he’d used the word ‘safe’ Rob asked if he lived alone. Ben wouldn’t answer, just repeated he was safe. Started to get a bit agitated. Rob noticed and did as he wanted, turned to leave but at the door he hesitated again, reiterated that Ben was to let him know if he did need anything. To which Ben replied, ‘It’s fine, we don’t.’”

  “We?” queried Ruby.

  “That’s right, we,” confirmed Ness. “Realising there was no more he could do, Rob left. Ben never really came to the pub again, not whilst Rob was working a shift anyway, and it wasn’t long after that that he died. Rob’s been wondering about going to the South Coast Times with his story.”

  Ruby drew a breath inwards. “You advised him against that, didn’t you?”

  “I did and he agreed. He’s no fan of the media either.”

  That was a relief at least. As she mulled over Ness’s words, something Delia said came to mind during their first meeting with her. She was telling them about Ben too, about her conversations with him, how she’d come right out and asked the old man if he was lonely. Leaning forward, she reminded Ness and enlightened the others about this particular snippet of conversation. “He said he wasn’t lonely and he looked directly at her when he said it, which as we know, is something Ben didn’t do very often, almost as if he was pressing the point home.” She sat back in her chair and agitated at her lip. Looking at Ness, at all of them, she said, “Damn it, you know what I think don’t you?”

  Although all three nodded it was Ness who spoke.

  “It’s not him, is it? It’s not Ben that’s haunting Gilmore Street.”

  “We’ve been barking up the wrong tree all along. Cash was right. He said it might be someone else and I just brushed his suggestion aside.” Ruby’s groan was audible. “Oh God, he’s never going to let me live this down!”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Theo clapped her hands together.

  “Regarding Cash, dear girl, bite the bullet and give credit where credit’s due. As for you Ness, good work. Really good work.”

  “I thought so,” Ness replied pretending at smugness.

  Corinna, on the other hand, looked decidedly perplexed. “But if it’s not Ben, who is it? Who else died at the house?”

  “That’s what we have to find out.” Turning to Ness, Theo asked if she could possibly bother her police contact again about the matter. East Sussex Record Office, The Keep, would be closed by now and, although it was open on Saturdays, they might be able to find out something tonight. All of them felt impatient to do so.

  “I can, he’s erm… very approachable is Lee.”

  “Oh, is he now?” Theo shot back. “I take it you mean in all respects?”

  Theo was well known for her gentle teasing of Ness – sometimes Ness took it in the vein it was meant – affectionately – at other times it irritated her. Thankfully, what she’d found out had put them all in a good mood, so she simply smiled in response before rising from her chair. “I’ll go and call him.”

  Whilst she did, Ruby turned to her computer and typed in 44 Gilmore Street, clicking on the ‘Brighton History’ site to find out when the street had been developed. Fo
rmerly known as Upper Trafalgar Street, it dated back to the mid 1850’s, something she suspected if it was intended to house railway workers – Brighton Station had been built in 1840, a decade earlier.

  “That’s a lot of history,” she muttered. Unfortunately.

  Ness returned a few minutes later. “We’ll have to wait a while but Lee’s agreed to do his best. We have to remember though, computerised police records only go back to the seventies and from the quick scan he managed to do whilst I was talking to him, there’s no evidence of any ‘foul play’ having taken place at that address. In fact, there’s nothing at that address at all.”

  “The seventies?” Ruby queried. “Ben’s been there since the late sixties, so we need to go much further back than the seventies. I suspect trawling through the archives in the police vaults is too much of an ask isn’t it?”

  Ness nodded. “Lee’s a very busy man and well... that could take a lifetime.”

  “Yeah, yeah, I know it could.”

  “Let’s sleep on it tonight,” Theo advised. “Combine Lee’s efforts with a trip to The Keep tomorrow. You never know we might find something of interest.”

  The emphasis Theo put on the word ‘might’ escaped no one.

  London and Brighton Railway had indeed built and owned the houses in Gilmore Street and thereabouts for railway workers up until nationalisation in the late 1940s. Records at The Keep were nothing if not expansive, including a general guide to tracing the history of a house, which they were all advised to read before making a start. The sentence ‘Remember that if you live in a town it is more difficult to trace the history of your house’ did nothing to inspire confidence. Even so, one of the assistants there, Sylvia, assured them they should be able to find names of families who’d lived there through the ages, even those who were tenants not owners, by cross-referencing a combination of trade directories, census returns and electoral registers. The task seemed a daunting one.