Cherringham--Ghost of a Chance Read Online Free PDF Page A

Should be awake. He called for some tea to be brought up just a while ago.”
    “We’ll find it. And check back with you later.”
    Lawrence again clapped his hands together as if — after the great accident — all the pieces were falling into place.
    Unlike the shards of crystal swept up and dumped outside.
    Jack nodded, and he walked with Sarah to the great staircase leading to the first floor.
    *
    Midway up the stairs, Jack touched Sarah's arm and nodded to a large, dark painting of a gaunt middle-aged man, dressed in hunting garb, rifle lowered, the bloodied body of a magnificent tiger at his feet.
    Behind the man, obedient Indian-looking servants hovered in the shadows.
    Despite their master’s apparent success, they didn't seem too happy.
    “Some cheery paintings in this place, hum?” he said to her.
    “It's not a Novotel, that’s for sure. Those detective instincts telling you anything, Jack?”
    They had stopped midway up the grand staircase, on a landing where the stairs turned left and continued up to the guest rooms above.
    “Yes. And no. But I sense that Lawrence is worried. Like maybe he knows something that he hasn't shared.”
    Sarah smiled. “But will?”
    “One can hope. We’ll know more after we talk to Basil.”
    “Anything in particular you want me to pay attention to?”
    Jack looked away.
    With a nod he signalled that they should continue up the stairs, taking the steps slowly.
    “Yeah. Press him on what he’s about. These ‘haunted evenings’. Act interested. Does he believe in this stuff? Does he believe in something beyond the smoke and mirrors he uses to make a living? He's been coming here for years. This time, people nearly got seriously hurt.”
    “Be good to know what he thinks.”
    “Exactly.”
    They reached the upper floor and walked down a gloomy hallway toward room number 6, the maroon rug looking blackish in the dark with more grim paintings lining the walls.
    “Here we go …” said Jack.
    And he knocked.

6. Presenting Basil Whistlethwaite
    The man who opened the door turned his head like a lighthouse beam, looking from Jack to Sarah and back again.
    Tall, hair as white as snow, a perfectly curled handlebar moustache.
    Certainly looks the part, Sarah thought.
    “Yes, can I—?”
    Sarah smiled, taking the lead.
    “Mr. Whistlethwaite, we’ve been asked to look into what happened last night.”
    The man rolled his eyes.
    “What a fiasco!”
    “Right. Could we chat a bit?”
    Now Basil looked past Sarah, right at Jack, standing just behind her.
    “Are you the police?”
    She looked back and saw Jack smile. “No, Mr. Whistlethwaite — just friends of the hotel. I’m Jack, this is Sarah,” he said.
    “An American?”
    A yank in the house! Basil sounded shocked.
    “Guilty as charged,” Jack said. “So a few moments?”
    Then the man who claimed to commune with the non-living slowly opened the door.
    “For Lawrence and his hotel … of course.”
    He actually did a slight bow as the door opened, and they walked into the room.
    *
    Sarah had started by asking Basil his recollections of the moment the great chandelier fell.
    And it appeared that Basil — as he insisted they call him — noticed nothing untoward.
    “And all the other things that happened, the haunting effects — I imagine you arranged them, set some of those—”
    Jack had made the question seem innocent. Just curious about how such ghostly things happen.
    “I'm afraid I'm not in the habit of revealing, um, trade secrets.”
    “It will go no further than us, Basil,” Sarah said.
    Basil nodded. “Well then, yes. I always like to ‘season the pot’, as it were, when attempting to reach the non-living. Seems they like that ambience of fear, of concern.”
    “You are a believer then?” Jacks aid.
    Basil nodded. “ Absolutely . I mean, how could I do this if I didn't? But here’s the thing: ghosts, poltergeists, whatever you call them — they are generally benevolent. I’ve been