by Adam Croft
‘She seemed absolutely fine,’ her mother replied. ‘She was very excited about going to the concert, of course. She’d been wanting to see Alex Alvarez for ages, but this was his first UK tour so was the first chance she’d had. It was her birthday recently, her eighteenth, so she’d had a great time then. She’d just passed her driving test, too. She had absolutely nothing to be upset about. We bought her the concert tickets and the hotel room as a birthday treat.’
‘And she drove there with her friends, didn’t she?’ Hardwick asked, Katherine Gray nodding. ‘Was it her own car?’
‘Yes,’ she replied.
‘She bought it with her own money,’ Tony added. ‘Went out, got a job and saved up.’ Hardwick noted the glance that Tony and Katherine gave each other. It was a glance that said And that’s the way things are done in the real world, love.
‘So there was absolutely no sign that anything was bothering her at all?’ Hardwick asked, trying to lighten the atmosphere but failing miserably.
‘No, not at all,’ Katherine replied.
‘Would she have confided in you had she had something on her mind, do you think?’ Hardwick said.
‘Oh, I don’t know. Quite possibly not. You know what teenagers are like,’ she replied. ‘I should imagine they’ve got all sorts of secrets. I know I did at that age.’
‘Do you think she might have confided in a friend?’ Hardwick asked. ‘Is there one friend she felt particularly close to?’
‘Possibly. Her two closest friends, Rhiannon and Charlotte both went to the concert with her. I suppose if there was anything she had been worried or upset about, she’d’ve told them.’
Hardwick enquired as to Rhiannon and Charlotte’s surnames and addresses and noted them down.
‘And, of course, they would’ve seen her most recently, just before she... you know... so they might have a bit more of an idea,’ Katherine said.
Hardwick nodded. He always thought it odd how people were sometimes unwilling or unable to say ‘died’. It was particularly noticeable with suicides, with many people not liking the S-word. True enough, it had the connotations of crime, which was quite an undesirable and unfortunate thing. Committing suicide sounds more like a criminal act than the last resort of someone tortured and troubled to the depths of despair, to the point where they feel their only way out is to end their life. However, Hardwick was quite sure that in the cases of Elliot Carr and Kimberly Gray, a crime had indeed been committed. Not suicide, but murder.
‘And she’d been getting on well at work, had she?’ Hardwick asked.
‘Oh yes,’ Katherine said. ‘Just a part-time job, you know, but she’d been enjoying it. They were starting to increase her hours, as well, which was good. They said once she’d finished her exams they’d be willing to offer her a full-time place. I don’t know if she would have taken it or not. She’d spoken about perhaps taking a year or so to build up some money before going to university.’
‘Oh? What was she going to study?’ Kempston asked.
‘She wasn’t sure’, Katherine replied. ‘She’d thought about maybe doing psychology or even English Lit.’
Hardwick nodded. It had always riled him that tens of thousands of young people every year were shepherded out of school and into university for no good reason. Young people with no plans, landed with thirty-thousand pounds worth of debt and a degree they don’t know if they’ll ever use. And all so that the schools could say X% of our students go on to university.
‘And you mentioned that she had been working. What was she doing?’
‘She was working for an advertising company in town,’ Tony said. ‘Starting to build up a name for herself in the company, too.’
Hardwick left a couple of moments’ silence before changing the subject again. ‘This might sound a little odd, but did Kimberly ever mention seeing any news items about the death of a man called Elliot Carr?’
Kimberly’s parents looked at each other. ‘I don’t think so,’ her mother said. ‘The name doesn’t ring a bell anyway. Why?’
‘Because Elliot Carr also died at the Manor Hotel, just over a week ago. And the verdict was suicide then, too.’
‘But surely lots of people die in hotels,’ Tony interrupted. ‘Doesn’t mean anything, surely?’
‘Usually I’d agree with you. But there are a number of similarities between the deaths of your daughter and Elliot Carr.’
‘Such as?’
‘Such as the fact that they both died from hanging. In the same room. And both using dressing gown cords.’
Neither of Kimberly’s parents spoke a word for a good twenty seconds. Hardwick opted not to speak either, giving them time to process this new information as he watched their faces carefully.
It was Katherine who finally broke the silence. ‘Do you... Do you think Kimberly might have been... killed?’
‘If I’m completely honest,’ Hardwick said, ‘I don’t know. As I said, there are some remarkable similarities between the two deaths. There could be any number of reasons for that, though.’
‘Such as?’
‘Well, you have to bear in mind that I’m not necessarily saying that this is what happened, but there have been instances in the past of young people taking their own lives in the same way as others have before, in so-called copycat suicides.’ Kimberly’s parents looked shocked and upset. ‘Of course, as I said I’m not saying that’s what happened in this case. It’s just one theory which could explain it. It could be a complete coincidence, too, although I personally think that’s unlikely. So I’m afraid I have to ask. Do you know of anyone who had fallen out with Kimberly? Perhaps someone who had a grudge of some sort?’
‘No, definitely not,’ Katherine said. ‘She had so many friends and was very popular. I can’t remember her ever even telling me about having an argument with anyone, let alone something like this.’
‘If... If she has been... murdered,’ Tony said, stuttering slightly, ‘do you think it might be one of these random killers? Maybe it’s just someone who kills people randomly because they enjoy it. You see it on the TV all the time.’
‘And I’m afraid that’s largely where it stays,’ Hardwick says. ‘That’s extraordinarily rare. On the whole, all killers have a reason for choosing the victims they choose. They need some sort of validation or justification in their mind for killing. It’s very rare for people to just kill indiscriminately. To be honest, the pure coincidence theory is probably more likely.’
‘But how can you just dismiss it like that?’ Tony asked. ‘If there’s even the slightest possibility that there’s a madman out there killing innocent people at random, shouldn’t you do something about it?’
‘That’s just the problem,’ Hardwick said. ‘Not only is it extremely unlikely, but it’d also be very difficult to find them unless they were already known to the police, as there would be very little, if anything, to connect them to the killings.’
Both Katherine and Tony were silent for a few moments before Katherine finally spoke, softly. ’So what you’re saying is that there’s no hope?’
‘No,’ Hardwick replied. ‘What I’m saying is that I’ll do everything I can to help you find out what happened to Kimberly. But it won’t be easy.’
29
Unable to concentrate on doing much else, Ellis had been back to the Manor Hotel to “get into the zone” as he called it. If he was being truthful to himself, he was still hugely intrigued by the paranormal theories surrounding the place.
He’d spoken to the hotel’s manager who’d told him that bookings had dropped off since the news had got out about the second suicide and the local newspaper, the Tollinghill Echo, had gone to press with a story theorising that the deaths were somehow linked and that there was some strange cultish effect going on locally. Unsurprisingly, the hotel’s manager wasn’t best pleased about this.
Fortunately for Ellis, though, he did understand the potential marketing angle for a supernatural theory. He knew from his predece
ssors just how valuable the story of the ghost at the Manor Hotel had been in people coming to stay at the hotel, and shortly after it was featured on the television in the mid-1990s, the hotel had been booked out solidly for the next six months. Unsurprisingly, then, he was particularly keen on Ellis’s idea that they should hold a paranormal investigation at the hotel.
Whereas across the pond in America a haunted house or hotel would be a huge downfall, with houses losing tens of thousands of dollars off their value if it’s suspected there’s a ghost, in the UK a good haunting could be a goldmine. It would certainly be a far better marketing angle than being the home of the country’s latest suicide cult, anyway. As such, the manager was keen that a paranormal investigation be carried out as soon as possible.
Ellis, too, was keen that things should get underway quickly, so he’d called the Shafford & District Paranormal Society from the hotel to see if they’d be interested. They’d said that they did an investigation at the hotel almost fifteen years ago and had been due to visit again soon, but with the story being in the news now would be the perfect time to set up an investigation.
‘We’ve got to strike while the iron’s hot,’ the society’s president, Robin Joyce, had said. ‘The fact of the matter is, if the last death was only a couple of days ago, the activity in the area will probably still be pretty high. Unsurprisingly, there’s a lot of residual energy left when someone dies, particularly if it was a violent death. If we’re going to see any activity, it’ll be now.’
Even Ellis was surprised at just how quickly they’d sprung into action, with an investigation planned for that same evening. Robin had told him that paranormal activity often comes in waves, and if the deaths at the hotel had been paranormal in their origins then that would indicate that they were currently riding the crest of a wave and needed to get in fast.
30
After leaving Kimberly’s parents’ house, Hardwick had called Kimberly’s friends, Rhiannon and Charlotte, and asked them to meet him at a local coffee shop.
Hardwick arrived before them, and was already sipping on his strong black coffee when he saw the two girls walking arm-in-arm through the automatic sliding doors. He stood and extended his hand to greet them.
‘Kempston Hardwick. You must be Rhiannon and Charlotte,’ he said, knowing damn well that they were as he’d looked them up on Facebook so he’d recognise them when they arrived.
‘Yes, hi,’ said Rhiannon. ‘I was going to ask if you wanted us to get you a coffee, but I see you’ve already got one.’
‘Yes, I have, thank you,’ Hardwick replied, turning back to his notepad.
‘We'll... go and get our own, then, shall we?’ Charlotte said, probing.
‘Okay, yes,’ Hardwick replied.
Rhiannon muttered something under her breath as the pair went to order their drinks before joining Hardwick back at his table. He was scribbling furiously in his notebook, which he snapped shut once he’d realised Rhiannon and Charlotte were back at the table.
‘Do we have to give another formal statement or something?’ Charlotte asked. ‘Only we’ve already done two. One up in South Heath and another one here.’
‘Oh no, nothing like that,’ Hardwick replied, trying to force a smile. ‘Just a couple of questions to tie up loose ends, you know. To try and find some closure for the family.’
‘I understand. Her parents seem really cut up about it,’ Rhiannon said, noticing Hardwick’s raised eyebrow. ‘Well, obviously her mum is her mum. She’s always been like that, but believe me she’s gutted. She just puts on a brave face and tries to get on with things. Not always the best way, though, is it? I mean, you’ve got to grieve at some point, haven’t you?’
‘Indeed,’ Hardwick replied. ‘How long had you both known Kimberly? Long enough to get to know her parents, I see.’
‘Oh yes. Yeah, we’ve been at school together for years. Since juniors for me, and Charlotte joined us at secondary.’
‘Have you always been close?’ Hardwick asked.
‘Yeah, really close,’ Rhiannon said, tears starting to form in her eyes. ‘We used to tell each other everything.’
‘So you would’ve known if something had been on her mind in the days and weeks leading up to her death?’ Hardwick asked. ‘Something which would’ve made her want to take her own life.’
‘Definitely. She would’ve told me. But there was nothing. She’d just turned eighteen, passed her driving test and we’d just seen Alex Alvarez. I’d never seen her so happy. But you never know, do you?’
‘Very true,’ Hardwick said, quickly running out of angles of attack. ‘Now, this might sound a little bit odd to you, but please humour me. Were either of you, or Kimberly, aware of rumours or stories that the Manor Hotel was haunted?’
Rhiannon let out an involuntary laugh. ‘Are you serious? To answer your question, no, we weren’t, but what has that got to do with anything?’
‘Are you seriously suggesting that a ghost killed Kimberly or something? Because if you are, I want to have a word with your superior. You must be mad.’
‘No no,’ Hardwick said. ‘I think you’ve got it all wrong, I—‘
‘Your lot just don’t want to know,’ Charlotte said. ‘You’ll come up with any excuse just to get the paperwork shoved through more quickly. Whatever the easiest option is. Suicide, accident and now killer ghosts, for Christ’s sake. They keep saying that there was probably something she just didn’t want to tell us. But we know that’s not true. Kimberly never hid anything from us.’
Hardwick sighed before he spoke. It wasn’t often he did this unless he had to, but he felt it would be beneficial in this instance. ‘I’m not actually a police officer. And no, I’m not a journalist or anything like that. I am investigating Kimberly’s death, just like I said. I’m a private investigator. And before you close ranks, I just want you to know that I’m on your side here. Like you said, the police just aren’t interested. They’re convinced that Kimberly’s death was a suicide, but I know — just as you do — that it wasn’t. Now, I promise I’ll get to the bottom of what happened that night at the Manor Hotel. But I can only do that if you’ll help me.’
There was a few moments’ silence before Rhiannon and Charlotte both looked at each other without saying any words, in the way only old and close friends could.
‘Yes,’ Rhiannon said, nodding. ‘We’ll help you.’
31
Having looked up a contact for the South Heath Local History Society, Ellis had called and arranged to meet a man called Graham Simpson, who told him he knew quite a lot about the hauntings at the Manor Hotel and could meet him late that afternoon at the Freemason’s Arms in Tollinghill. That would give him plenty of time to get back down to South Heath in time for the paranormal investigation.
Ellis ordered a pint of his favourite beer, Pheasant Plucker, and sat down at a small table near the front window. Fortunately for him, Graham Simpson’s photo was on the South Heath Local History Society website, so he hoped he would recognise him when he arrived.
Just a few minutes later, Graham Simpson did arrive and Ellis did recognise him. The man’s bushy white moustache curled upwards as he smiled and shook Ellis’s hand. Once Ellis had bought him a drink, he sat down and launched straight into what he knew about the odd goings-on at the Manor Hotel.
‘It really is quite a spooky story,’ Graham said. ‘In fact, ITV featured it on one of their paranormal programmes nearly twenty years ago. They even had interviews with the people who’d seen and heard things, which always lends a little more credibility to the reports. Usually it’s just a case of a bloke in a pub telling someone that they heard something from someone else. That’s how these things get blown out of proportion. But with the Manor Hotel, we have the benefit of knowing exactly who saw what and when.’
Ellis leaned in a little closer, sensing that Graham Simpson’s intellect and local knowledge could be very handy indeed.
‘Now, the Manor Hotel — or South Heath Manor
as it was called before it was a hotel — was built in the early 1800s as a private house for a chap called John Moreton. After he died, it passed down through the family until it was sold in the 1990s, when it became a hotel.’
‘It’d stayed in the family all that time?’ Ellis asked.
‘Absolutely. Big houses like that nowadays are far too expensive to keep running. That’s why so many become hotels or end up going to English Heritage. Now, the story behind the hauntings is linked to the early 1900s. What do you know so far?’
‘Something about an elderly housekeeper who was accused of poisoning a child. Is that right?’ Ellis asked, feeling proud of himself as Graham nodded.
‘Yep, that’s about it. The woman was called Mrs Fletcher. There’s a record of her on one of the censuses, and then on the next one she’s just not there. Her death certificate shows that she didn’t die for a little while, so the presumption is that she was sacked. Now, this is where the story ties in. As you say, the rumour was that she had been trying to poison one of the children in the household and was sacked for it. In between the census that shows Mrs Fletcher living at South Heath Manor and the one that doesn’t, there is indeed a record of a child dying at the manor. Their infant son, George. So although there’s not a complete paper trail, it does seem that the rumours fit around what we do know as facts.’
‘So you’re comfortable enough from your own research to say that it actually happened?’ Ellis asked, before taking a sip of his beer.
‘Well, don’t quote me on that. But it’s one of the stronger cases of local legend, let’s put it that way. Now, when the manor was converted into a hotel, that’s when things started to go a bit odd. As you might know, in manor houses the housekeepers tended to live on the very top floor. That’s the area where the storage room now is at the hotel and where the two people died recently. That room was only revealed to exist when the builders came in to renovate for the hotel firm. The timelines indicate that the room was bricked up after Mrs Fletcher left but before the manor became a hotel. I wouldn’t be surprised if, after Mrs Fletcher died, phenomena at the manor meant that someone bricked up the room in order to stop her spirit from wandering. If you believe in that sort of thing, that is.’
