Cherringham--Ghost of a Chance Read Free Page B

waiting — nay demanding — that his murderer be unmasked so that he might pay for his crime!”
    Some gentle boos from the audience.
    And then the clock started its musical chime.
    “Midnight! The hour is nearly upon us!! Pray charge your glasses for our final toast!”
    He watched as they raced to fill the wine glasses, and quickly checked his watch again — the second hand clicking down to midnight with each chime of the clock on the mantelpiece.
    Ten seconds left.
    He could see they were ready.
    This thing has to be spot on to the second; you can’t argue with these damned digital timers …
    The climax to the whole evening!
    The toast to Freddy — and every candle in the place would be simultaneously blown out in an instant, leaving the most terrifying, total darkness.
    He ran down the seconds in his head.
    Five, four, three …
    “To Freddy!” he said, raising his glass high above his head, high towards the great chandelier.
    “To Freddy” called the guests, raising high their glasses too.
    Basil watched them tip back the wine.
    But as he did …
    Instead of the candles all blowing out — as they were supposed to — there came a dreadful tearing, creaking, groaning sound, right above their heads, a horrible sound, Basil thought …
    Like the jaws of hell themselves opening up …
    … and Basil watched as the chandelier — its hundreds of heavy, glass drops shimmering and sparkling in the light — fell from the ceiling and exploded on the table, shooting glass shards in all directions and scattering the horrified guests to the four corners of the room.

4. Express Checkout
    “Did Joan Buckland tell you what this was all about?”
    Jack smiled at Sarah and shook his head.
    “I'm afraid not. Just said it was ‘a mysterious, dangerous bit of business’. And that the owner of The Bell could use our services.”
    “Really? That’s all?” she said.
    Sarah liked the Bucklands — but they were certainly the epitome of village odd birds.
    One thing not so odd about them: they liked and respected Jack so much.
    “That’s it. She said something about a job for detectives and seeing things with fresh eyes.”
    “So, while the two of them might have their own theories on whatever happened, they would not, um, colour your perception?”
    Jack laughed. “Kinda like that. Must have been something they picked up from one of their favorite mystery series. I — for one — would have liked a heads- up.”
    They had told the receptionist at the desk of The Bell Hotel that they were here to meet Lawrence Myrtle, at his request.
    She invited them to take a seat near the fire. The chairs may be old, Sarah thought, but quite comfy. And with the fire crackling nearby on a chilly autumn afternoon, a good place for a read …
    Or — more likely with The Bell's clientele — a snooze.
    “Doesn't bother me much,” Jack said. “We’ll know soon enough and—”
    At that moment Sarah saw Myrtle, rather spry considering his age, bustle into the lobby area, speak to the receptionist, and then turn quickly to Jack and Sarah.
    “Mr. Brennan, Ms. Edwards, I can't thank you enough!”
    “Jack and Sarah,” Jack said standing up, extending a hand. Sarah followed suit.
    “Lawrence, please ! The Bucklands had nothing but high praise for the two of you. For your abilities to ‘solve the unsolvable’ is how they put it.”
    Jack shot a look at Sarah.
    “They really say that? Well, every mystery has a solution,” Jack said. “Just need to gather all the pieces.”
    That word — Sarah could see — had Lawrence looking away.
    Zoning out?
    Then he turned back to them. “Pieces, hmm. I assume the Bucklands told you what happened?”
    “Not at all,” Jack said.
    Lawrence’s eyes went wide with surprise.
    He then gestured to the chairs they had been sitting in while he went to a claw-footed sofa that faced them.
    “Well. Let me explain, shall I? It was last night. During our yearly “Victorian Halloween Dinner …”
    And