SIX
Accusations, Denials and People Losing Their Heads
MacKay led the way, as usual, striding along. But his head was hanging down, staring at the floor rather than where he was going. He didn’t look like an old soldier any more, just an old man who’d been hit too hard and too often. I knew how he felt. It wasn’t enough that everyone in the house had some kind of alibi for Parker’s murder; now I had ghosts and walking dead men to consider, along with bodies that disappeared the moment you took your eyes off them.
MacKay stopped suddenly and raised his head. “Mr. Martin! This is MacKay. Do you hear me?”
“I’m right here,” said Martin. His voice seemed to come out of nowhere, as always. “I have all of you on my screen.”
“I am taking Mr. Jones and Miss Belcourt to join the two doctors in the lounge,” said MacKay.
“I know,” said Martin. “I was listening. Go ahead, don’t let me stop you.”
“I think you should come and join us,” said MacKay. “We have a great deal to discuss, and you need to be a part of those discussions.”
“You need me right where I am,” said Martin. “Sitting in front of these screens, watching everything. Standing guard over you.”
“Mr. Parker is dead,” said MacKay. “So is Mr. Baxter. Both of their bodies disappeared and you saw none of it.”
“That’s not fair!” said Martin. “It’s not my fault. I can only do what my equipment allows me to do.”
“Exactly,” said MacKay. “So come and join us in the lounge, Mr. Martin. That is not a request.”
There was a pause; and I did wonder for a moment whether Martin would defy MacKay, so he could stay in the one place he felt safe. But when Martin finally spoke again he sounded resigned, as if he’d known this was coming.
“Give me a few minutes to put the system on automatic. So at least whatever I miss will be recorded and I can study it later. I’ll catch up with you in the lounge. No, hold on—wait a minute! I knew there was something I wanted to ask you. There are guns in the Lodge. Right? Well, wouldn’t this be a really good time to break them out? So we can defend ourselves?”
“He has a point,” said Penny.
“There are guns,” said MacKay. “Securely locked up in the armoury. For emergencies only.”
“And this doesn’t qualify?” said Penny. “What are you waiting for, an attack on the Lodge by an army of flying monkeys?”
“I don’t think adding guns to an already dangerous situation is a good idea,” I said carefully. “People are nervous enough as it is without having them shooting at shadows. Or possibly each other.”
“If someone wants us dead, don’t we have the right to protect ourselves?” said Martin. “Or are we all supposed to hide behind you if things get bad? You’re the Big Bad Secret Agent, so you probably already have a gun. One of those special ones that can fire round corners, which you assemble out of six ordinary-looking objects.”
“I’m not that kind of secret agent,” I said. “And I don’t have guns of any kind. I prefer to work without them.”
“It’s a wonder to me you’re still among the living,” said Martin.
“He has a point,” said Penny. “Don’t you look at me like that, Ishmael. He does have a point!”
“Mr. Martin, you may be right,” MacKay said heavily. “But I am not yet ready to dispense deadly weapons to untrained people with unsteady hands. Come to the lounge and we will discuss the matter further.”
None of us had much to say as we made our way through the empty corridors of the house. The silence was oppressive, a nagging weight on nerves already stretched to their limits. It was like walking through a jungle where predators might be lurking around every corner or hiding in any shadow. I kept a careful watch on every door we approached, and my ears trained for anything to suggest we might be being followed. Penny kept trying to look in six different directions at once; not because she was frightened, but because she wanted to be ready if anything happened. The two murders hadn’t upset her; just made her more determined. The horrors she’d endured at Belcourt Manor, where she’d been forced to watch helplessly as her friends and family died, had given her a driving need to see the guilty punished. MacKay didn’t seem to give a damn about his surroundings. He just plodded along, lost in his own thoughts.
When we finally arrived at the lounge, I was surprised to find Martin already there waiting for us. Looking more out of place than ever in the old-fashioned corridors, with his grubby T-shirt and his baseball cap turned backwards. He gestured sullenly at the closed door.
“They won’t let me in,” he said loudly. “I knocked, announced myself properly and told them you were on your way, and they still wouldn’t open the door!”
“I will attend to this, Mr. Martin,” said MacKay. His back straightened with an audible snap as his military discipline reasserted itself, and he stepped forward to hammer on the door with his fist.
I looked thoughtfully at Martin. “How did you get here ahead of us?”
“I’ve been working in this dump for years,” said Martin. He smirked, almost proudly. “I like to go exploring during my off time and I’ve found all kinds of shortcuts. It’s not like there’s much else to do around here, after all, and we’re not allowed to go into town—in case any of the staff have a few drinks and start chatting to the locals about what really goes on here. Not that any of the locals would talk to us . . . Half the time it feels like we’re locked up along with the prisoners. And they get looked after better! You would not believe what gets brought in here to sweeten their natures and soften them up. Booze, drugs, women . . . Just for them! We never get a look in. If it wasn’t for my unlimited access to webcam girls and cute-cat videos, I’d have gone crazy long ago.”
“Hush, Mr. Martin!” said MacKay. He knocked again, the sound thunderously loud in the quiet. “This is MacKay! Open the door, Doctor Hayley, Doctor Doyle!”
“Go away!” said Hayley’s voice, from the other side of the door. “We’ve put up a barricade and we’re not taking it down. It’s not safe out there.”
“Not safe!” said Doyle’s voice.
“I know, dear, I’m telling them that.”
“Well, tell them to go away and stop bothering us.”
“I am, dear. You go and sit down and have a rest. You know your nerves aren’t good.”
I was tempted to smash the door in and kick their barricade aside; but I didn’t want anyone in the Lodge to know just how strong I was. I might need the element of surprise at some point. So I stepped in beside MacKay and nodded to him, and he stepped reluctantly aside.
“Doctor Hayley, this is Ishmael Jones,” I said loudly. “Please let us in. Things have changed and we need to discuss them.”
“What things?” said Hayley.
“Baxter has been murdered. And his body has disappeared into thin air, just like Parker’s.”
There was a long pause. I imagined Hayley and Doyle looking at each other, raising their eyebrows and shrugging a lot. Finally there was the sound of heavy furniture scraping across the floor, as the two of them laboriously dismantled their barricade. It took a while, but eventually the door opened. MacKay strode straight in, so quickly and authoritatively that Hayley and Doyle had to jump back out of his way. The shock of being so openly defied had brought MacKay’s military aspect back to the fore, and he seemed to have completely shrugged off his former malaise. Martin slouched in after him, hands deep in pockets, looking like he’d much rather be anywhere else. Preferably somewhere with a bar. Penny and I brought up the rear, and I closed the door carefully behind us. Hayley immediately came forward, pushing a heavy table ahead of her, but I stopped her with a raised hand.
“No barricade for the moment, doctor. Just in case we feel the need to depart this room in a hurry.”
She looked at me suspiciously. “Why would we want to do that? Aren’t we safe in here?”
“I don’t know, doctor. But I’d rather have the option and not need it, than need it and not have it.”
She sniffed briefly, abandoned her table, and turned her scowl on MacKay. Doyle came over to stand beside her so he could join in the scowling. They clearly still considered MacKay to be their chief suspect as murderer. They had made a pretty good case. MacKay couldn’t have known that, but he did know a complete lack of trust when he saw it. He stared both the doctors down, unflinchingly, so they turned their glares on Martin. Who just dropped into the nearest chair and ignored them.
“Can we get on with this?” he said loudly. “There are far more important things I should be doing, some of them even work-related.”
“If you’re here,” said Doyle, “who’s minding the store? Anything could be going on out there and we wouldn’t know about it.”
“The computers are in charge,” said Martin. “The cameras are still watching and the microphones are still listening, so you’d better all be on your best behaviour. You never know what might end up on YouTube if you annoy me sufficiently.”
“The cameras haven’t done a particularly good job of protecting us so far, have they?” Penny said sweetly.
Martin pouted and sank sullenly down in his chair. When he wasn’t lording it over the rest of us with the borrowed authority his computers gave him, it was easy to forget how young he was. Away from the security centre and very much out of his element, he looked more than a bit twitchy. Hayley and Doyle gave up on their glaring, as it wasn’t getting them anywhere, and took up their usual positions sitting on the sofa. I couldn’t help noticing they’d put away all their handwritten notes before opening the door. MacKay sat down stiffly in a chair next to Martin, in a way that suggested relaxing was against his religion. I pulled up a comfortable armchair so I could sit facing Hayley and Doyle; and Penny arranged herself elegantly on the armrest, draping her arm across my shoulders to balance herself as she did so. I looked at MacKay, and he nodded to me, so I brought Hayley and Doyle up to speed on what had been happening. Hayley looked more and more interested, while Doyle looked increasingly distressed.
“I have come round to your way of thinking,” he said, the moment I stopped talking. “I believe we should all stay here in the lounge, with the door securely barricaded, and wait for reinforcements. Now Baxter is dead, that just proves the killer’s work isn’t done.”
“Do you really think it wise to remain cooped up in here, when one of us is almost certainly the murderer?” said MacKay.
Martin started to get up out of his chair, and then sat down again when MacKay looked at him. He scowled around him impartially, seeming even more twitchy.
“How long before the reinforcements get here?” I said.
“Maybe half an hour,” said Martin, not even glancing at his watch. “We can hold out that long, can’t we?”
“We’re not all here,” Hayley said suddenly. “Where’s Redd?”
“Gone off on his own,” I said.
“And you let him?” said Hayley.
“Baxter’s death upset him,” I said. “I would have had to wrestle him to the ground and sit on him to stop him, and I don’t think that would have improved his mood any. Did you happen to see where he went, Martin?”
“Upstairs,” Martin said immediately. “He didn’t look like he was in the mood for company. He seemed to be looking for something, but I couldn’t tell you what.”
After that we all just sat around for a while, looking at each other and trying not to appear too openly suspicious of anyone in particular. The mood in the room was distinctly cold and uncomfortable, with suspicious looks and heavy thoughts on all sides. I sat with Penny, Hayley with Doyle, and MacKay beside Martin. Three separate groups, ready to throw out accusations or defences at a moment’s notice.
“I want to go back to my screens,” Martin said finally. “At least I’d feel like I was doing something useful.” He glowered at MacKay. “You said you wanted me here so you could discuss things. Well, go on then, discuss.”
“We should pool whatever information we have,” MacKay said slowly. “In the hope someone will bring something new to the table. Perhaps you would care to start, Mr. Jones. You must have more experience of dealing with murders and mysteries than the rest of us.”
“This whole situation is one big mystery to me,” I said. “It’s been a difficult case, right from the start. Bodies that disappear, with no hard evidence, no clues and no clear motives. Without any of those traditional tools of the trade, any accusation is just guesswork. And all this ghost nonsense isn’t helping. It’s just getting in the way of working out what’s really going on.”
“Are we not supposed to talk about all the weird shit that’s been happening, then?” said Martin.
“Not if it gets in the way!” said Hayley. “What matters is identifying the killer before someone else dies.”
“Before he makes more ghosts,” said Martin. “Come on, people, feel the atmosphere. We’re practically hip-deep in ectoplasm!”
“Then why haven’t I met one?” I said. “I’ve seen two dead bodies and heard everything short of a spectral soft-shoe shuffle, but I haven’t seen anything even vaguely transparent.”
“What about the things I showed you on my screens?” said Martin.
“I haven’t seen anything in person,” I said.
“Are ghosts persons?” Penny said vaguely.
“They used to be,” said Doyle.
“Stop that!” I said.
“They’re probably scared of you,” said Martin. “Mister Big Bad Secret Agent.”
“If the ghosts are a part of what’s happening, we can’t just turn our back on them,” said Doyle.
“Of course not,” I said. “They might creep up on us.”
“Really not helping, Ishmael!” said Penny. She smiled encouragingly at Doyle. “Are you feeling better now?”
“Better than I was,” he said, smiling weakly in return. “I’m supposed to be the one who puts pressure on others. It never occurred to me how badly I might cope under pressure!”
“You’re doing fine, dear,” said Hayley.
“No, I’m not,” said Doyle. He didn’t even glance at Hayley. Instead, his attention fixed on Penny. “It’s all about inner resources, you see. You can be as brave as you like when an interrogation begins, but no one ever really knows their true mettle until it’s tested. That’s what Alice and I look for and play on. The hidden weaknesses that the subject doesn’t even know he has—till we find them and exploit them. Now someone is playing us, and it seems I am not the man I thought I was.”
“Stop it, Robbie!” said Hayley.
He finally turned to look at her. “I’m sorry, Alice, but once this is over I’m going back to my old university and taking up my previous position again if they’ll have me. Either way, I want nothing more to do with this appalling profession you brought me into. I’m leaving, with or without you.”
“Robbie, please. This is no time to be making life-changing decisions,” said Hayley.
“This is exactly the time,” said Doyle. “When you’re so scared, you can’t lie to yourself any more.”
“We will talk about this later, Robbie,” said Hayley.
“No, we’ll talk about it now,” said Doyle. “I was perfectly happy in my ivory tower until I met you. Because I wanted to be with you, I let you lead me out into the big wide world. But your world has been eating me alive from the inside . . . and I just can’t do this any more.”
“I did all of this for you,” said Hayley, “so we could have a good life together. Your work made our careers possible. You can’t just walk out on me, after everything I’ve done for you!”
“Yes,” said Doyle. “Look what you’ve made of me, Alice.”
He smiled at her sadly, while she looked at him with growing horror in her eyes.
I noticed Martin was looking at MacKay. It was obvious he didn’t like to see the old man appearing so tired and beaten down.
“Cheer up, MacKay!” he said loudly. “Look on the bright side, we’re not dead!”
“But my career is at an end,” MacKay said heavily. “Mr. Parker died while under my care. Mr. Baxter died while following my orders. No matter how this works out, our lords and masters will require my resignation. And without a job, I’m nothing. It’s all I’ve got.”
“I thought that, too,” Hayley said quietly. “The moment I heard Parker was dead, I thought whoever’s killed him has killed my career . . . Such a selfish thing to think, when someone has just died.”
“I thought I had some good years still left in me,” said MacKay. “But it seems I was wrong. I got old, and didn’t notice.”
And then he broke off, as the mobile phone in his jacket rang loudly. We all looked at him as he sat up straight in his chair, brought out his phone, and checked the caller’s ID.
“It is Mr. Redd,” he said. “Of course. Who else could it be?”
“I thought phones wouldn’t work inside the Lodge?” said Penny.
“Security phones are exempt,” said MacKay.
“Why is Redd calling you?” said Hayley.
“Because he is not with us, I suppose,” MacKay said dryly. He put the phone to his ear. “What is it, Mr. Redd?”
He listened for a while, nodding occasionally, then turned off his phone. He looked at it for a long moment before putting it away. He seemed oddly unsettled. As though the strange situation he was in had thrown him another unexpected curve.
“Mr. Redd says he knows who the murderer is. The only person it could be. He even knows how our killer is performing his nasty little tricks. But he isn’t prepared to name this person over the phone. He will only tell me face to face.”
“How many times do I have to tell you people?” I said loudly. “Breaking up the group and going off on your own is never going to end well! Look, if anyone is to go off and talk to Redd, it should be me. Because I have a much better chance of surviving whatever’s lying in wait out there.”
“Unfortunately, Mr. Redd was most emphatic,” said MacKay. “He will only talk to me. He says if he sees anyone else, he will disappear again. If there is even a chance Mr. Redd can name our killer, with hard proof to back him up, I have to listen. I have to do my job.”
“Of course you do,” said Martin. “I’ll go back to the centre, so I can follow you on my screens.”
MacKay paused, as he realized Hayley and Doyle were staring at him. “Is there a problem, doctors?”
“We don’t like the idea of you leaving,” Hayley said sharply. “Because as far as we’re concerned, you’re still our main suspect. Maybe you just want to talk to Redd alone so you can be sure of shutting him up.”
“Mr. Parker was in my care,” said MacKay, and his voice was a very cold thing. “Finding his murderer is my responsibility.”
“You did threaten to kill him yourself, once,” Penny said diffidently. “And offer to have Baxter and Redd beat him up.”
“That was part of the job then,” said MacKay. “My job now is to see him avenged. I have to prove myself worthy of my position. One last time.”
“You talk as though leaving your job would be the end of everything,” I said.
“It would be,” said MacKay.
“What about your family?” said Penny.
“The army was my family for many years,” said MacKay. “The only one I ever wanted. When they were forced to let me go, my old home turned out to be a place I no longer recognized, my blood relatives nothing but strangers. So I came here and made the Lodge my new home, and those who worked under me became the closest thing I have to a family. I should have gone with them when they left . . .”
And just like that, his relationship with Martin made a lot more sense. Their constant squabbling and then standing up for each other was typical father-and-son stuff, even if neither of them had ever openly admitted it to each other. Martin was already glaring at Hayley and Doyle.
“My screens showed MacKay was nowhere near Parker when he died.”
“But your systems are a mess,” said Hayley. “Your cameras come and go, your surveillance is full of holes . . .”
“I would have to say you make a much better suspect than me, Doctor Hayley,” MacKay said sharply. “You were failing to get anywhere in your interrogation. We all knew that. Mr. Parker diverted your attempts to get inside his head, with ridiculous ease. You have already admitted that a failure to break him could mean the end of your career. But if he was to die before he could be made to talk, then it couldn’t be your fault, could it?”
“Alice was with me, in our room, when Parker was killed,” said Doyle.
“But then you would say that, wouldn’t you?” said MacKay. “You would say anything for her, because she runs your life.”
“You are the only one with the means, opportunity and motive,” said Hayley.
“Hardly,” I said. “Given that we still don’t know how the murder was committed, or why.”
“Who do you think it is, Mr. MacKay?” said Penny.
“Much as I hate to point the finger at a man who is clearly suffering,” said MacKay, “I would have to say I have never been able to fathom Mr. Redd. A man who has always held his emotions very close to his chest, apart of course from his obvious devotion to Mr. Baxter . . . A man like that might be capable of anything. Especially if there was enough money involved.”
“And you still want to go up there and talk to him?” said Penny. “On your own?”
“That is why I have to talk to him,” said MacKay. “To hear what he has to say. It is always possible that he feels the need to make a confession.”
“But . . . unless you want us to believe there are two killers running around out there,” Penny said slowly, “that would have to mean Redd killed Baxter as well as Parker. And I don’t believe he would do that, no matter how much money was involved.”
“There’s always you,” Doyle said bluntly. Penny looked at him. “What?”
“Yes,” I said, “I would have to go along with that. What . . .?”
“We still don’t know why you’re here, really,” said Doyle, ignoring me to stare coolly at Penny. “Why would an Organization field agent like Jones, one of those who famously work alone, turn up here with a partner? Except, of course, he did work with the previous Colonel, on cases so special we’re not allowed to know the details. Are you here to do the things he can’t, Penny? Are you a specialist? A professional assassin, perhaps?”
“Who do you really work for, Penny?” said Hayley. “Not the Organization. We checked.”
“Why would I want to kill Parker?” said Penny. “Ishmael and I were sent here to keep him alive.”
“I don’t know,” said Doyle. “Why don’t you tell us?”
“Yes,” said Hayley. “Tell us everything about you and Ishmael Jones.”
They leaned forward, fixing her with their gaze, their voices suddenly compelling. But Penny just laughed in their faces.
“I don’t intimidate that easily,” she said dryly. “I used to work in publishing.”
“She was with me, in our room, when Parker died,” I said.
“But then you would say that, wouldn’t you?” said Hayley. “And you’re not above suspicion yourself, Ishmael. As more than one of us has already noted, Parker was perfectly fine until you arrived. You insisted on talking to him privately, against my wishes, and within a few hours he was dead. Coincidence? I don’t think so.”
There was a long pause, as we all looked at each other.
“You have been very quiet, Mr. Martin,” MacKay said finally. “You’ve seen more of what’s happened than all of us put together. What do you believe is going on here?”
“I’m not going to say anything,” said Martin. “You’d only laugh at me.”
“I think I can quite definitely assure you that none of us are in a laughing mood, Mr. Martin,” said MacKay. “If you have a theory of your own, I am sure we would all like to hear it.”
“I think Parker’s presence here did something to this house,” Martin said steadily. “Something to wake the sleeping spirits of Ringstone Lodge. Until he came here, the old ghosts were quiet. But within hours of his arrival, all kinds of strange things began happening. I saw things, heard things, even managed to record some of them . . . I believe there was a power in Parker, something he acquired while operating in the darker corners of the world. I think he found something old and terrible, and made it a part of himself. He couldn’t be killed, they said. What’s a knife in the chest, to a man like that? And now he’s out there, walking the corridors, looking to take his revenge on the people who locked him up and tried to kill him. Dead or alive, he walks . . . surrounded by spirits of the past, called up again by his power. The dead do not rest easily in Ringstone Lodge. They never have.”
There was another long pause, and then Penny turned to Hayley.
“Didn’t you say earlier that you had some sedatives on you? I think someone here could use several.”
“Let me see what I’ve got,” said Hayley.
Martin scowled at MacKay. “See? I told you. No one likes to hear things they don’t want to be true.”
But as I looked round the room, it seemed to me they were all ready to believe at least some of what Martin was saying. Apparently I was the only one left who wasn’t prepared to believe ghosts had anything to do with what was happening at Ringstone Lodge.
“Oh, Ishmael . . .” said Penny. “I hate to be the bearer of bad tidings, but I think we’ve all missed something. Look at the bay window.”
We all turned to take in the massive window at the far end of the lounge. Outside, there was nothing but the night. Just darkness, pressing up against the glass. I looked at Penny.
“What am I missing?” I said. “It’s just night out there.”
“But that’s the point!” said Penny. “We shouldn’t be able to see the darkness. The windows are supposed to be covered by steel shutters!”
We were all up out of our chairs in a hurry, standing together, staring at the bay window. The night stared back, giving nothing away. How could I have missed something so blatantly obvious? Because so much had been happening? Or because I’d wasted so much of my time and attention on stupid ghost stories? MacKay rounded on Martin.
“Why isn’t that window sealed?”
“I don’t know!” said Martin. “It’s supposed to be. According to my computers, all the shutters came down simultaneously the moment I hit lockdown. What was I supposed to do, go round the house checking every single window? Look, I need to get back to the security centre. Figure out what’s gone wrong.”
“And now someone else wants to go off on their own,” I said. “It’s like being surrounded by lemmings.”
“We have to check,” said MacKay. “Because if the computers were wrong about this, what else might they be wrong about?”
“Then we should all go, as a group,” I said.
“Can’t be soon enough for me,” said Penny. “I’ll never feel safe in this room again, with that window open to the world. Anyone could get in.”
“Or out,” I said. “Anyone could enter or leave through that window, as often as they pleased . . .”
“Do we have a clue, at long last?” said Penny.
“Do you know, I think we do,” I said.
“I love clues!” said Penny.
Hurrying back through the house to the security centre, I allowed MacKay to take the lead again, so I could hang back and keep a watchful eye on our surroundings. I didn’t trust any part of Ringstone Lodge, and I reckoned I’d had enough surprises for one day. But when we got back to the security centre, the heavy steel door was standing wide open, leaving all the equipment unguarded. I thought MacKay was going to have an apoplectic fit, right there on the spot.
“I cannot believe you left the door unlocked, Mr. Martin!”
“But I didn’t!” said Martin, staring at the gaping door with horrified fascination. “I always lock the place up when I leave, you know that.”
We all peered into the dimly lit interior, but none of us took a step forward. In the end, MacKay lifted his chin and strode into the security centre in a way that suggested he was more than ready to kick the crap out of any intruder he encountered. But he was only gone for a moment before he was back out again, shaking his head.
“No one’s there. It’s safe for you to go in.”
Martin ran past him, and we all followed after. Penny leaned in close beside me to murmur in my ear.
“Shame on you, Ishmael. Letting an old man like that take all the risks.”
“An old soldier like MacKay?” I said. “I’d back him against anyone dumb enough to still be there.”
“If it had been me, I would have left a booby trap or two behind,” Penny said demurely.
“Same here,” I said. “But if there had been any, MacKay would have seen them.”
“You can be very cold-blooded on occasion, Ishmael.”
“Just practical,” I said.
Once inside we all crowded together, partly for mutual support but mostly because the space was so limited and we were all afraid to touch anything in case we broke it. The room seemed entirely undamaged, with nothing obviously missing. Martin had already planted himself on his swivel chair, his fingers flying across the keyboard on his lap as he checked whether the intruder had planted anything nasty in his systems. MacKay carefully studied a screen at the far end of the room.
“Lockdown has not been raised or tampered with,” he said finally. “The Lodge is still secure.”
“Apart from the lounge window,” I said.
“Mr. Martin?” said Mackay.
“I’m working on it!” said Martin, scowling fiercely at the screens around him. “Otherwise, everything’s working normally.”
“Working normally?” said Penny. “That doesn’t actually impress me much. There are undoubtedly moles out there in the grounds wearing heavy sunglasses who see more of what’s going on than you do.”
“Bit harsh,” I murmured.
“Well . . .” said Penny.
Martin looked like he wanted to say something harsh in reply, but then he caught my eye and didn’t.
“If you locked the door when you left,” Hayley said slowly to Martin, “who opened it? Who else knows the combination?”
“Only MacKay,” said Martin. “And we were both with you in the lounge.”
“So how did they get in?” said Penny.
“Ghosts?” said Doyle. But even he didn’t sound too convinced.
“This is all just distraction,” I said firmly. “There’s been too much of that already. Check your cameras, Martin. Where is Redd, right now?”
Martin stabbed a finger at one particular screen, showing Redd standing alone on the top floor right next to the room Penny and I had been given. The door was open, as though he might have been inside and just come out again.
“What’s he doing in our room?” Penny said loudly.
“He must have some reason to be there,” said Hayley.
“Is there anything you want to tell us, Mr. Jones, Miss Belcourt?” said MacKay. “Is there perhaps something in your room Mr. Redd might have discovered that we ought to know about?”
“No,” I said.
“Then why is Redd there?” Hayley said accusingly.
“Don’t you snap at me,” I said.
“Redd claimed he had evidence as to who the killer was,” said Doyle. “He must have got it from somewhere.”
“Well, he didn’t get it from our room!” said Penny. She stopped and looked at me. “Did we lock our room after we left?”
“Yes,” I said. “But then locks don’t seem to mean much in this house. So, did Redd unlock it? Or did someone else do it for him? And if I hear an answer that in any way contains the word ghosts, I will take a firm hold of that person and show them how to pass through a wall the hard way.”
“I cannot keep Mr. Redd waiting much longer,” said MacKay. “He might become impatient and disappear back into the house.”
“I still say talking to him alone is risky,” I said. “Why would he want to talk to you, in particular?”
“Call ahead first,” said Penny. “Tell him you’re on your way, Mr. MacKay, so he won’t get twitchy when he hears footsteps coming. And then while you’ve got him, try a few pertinent questions. This whole thing feels like a trap to me.”
“You are of course entirely right, miss,” said MacKay. “But the best way to walk out of a trap is to know you’re walking into one.”
He got out his phone and called Redd, but the man on the screen didn’t react. MacKay put the phone away.
“Mr. Redd must have turned his phone off to avoid having to answer any awkward questions.”
“Hold it,” I said. “Everything in the Lodge is overheard and recorded. And Redd knows that. So why is he insisting on talking to you alone, when he must know we’ll hear every word?”
“I must be sure to ask him that,” said MacKay. “And now, I think it is time for me to be on my way.”
“I’ll be following you every step of the way on my screens,” said Martin. “You won’t be alone for a moment.”
“That is reassuring indeed, Mr. Martin,” MacKay said gravely.
“If it does all go wrong, don’t be afraid to shout,” I said. “Even a trained soldier can be caught off guard. I can be with you in a few moments.”
“I do not believe I have anything to fear from Mr. Redd,” said MacKay.
“Don’t you?” I said. “After you nearly broke his arm to make him behave?”
MacKay allowed himself one of his small smiles. “Mr. Redd is just a hired security man. I was a professional soldier in a Scottish Highland Regiment. I believe I can handle Mr. Redd, if I have to.”
He nodded to all of us, and then marched out of the security centre like an old soldier who’d just caught a whiff of cordite in the air. He might have doubts about his job, but not his abilities. We watched MacKay reach the foot of the stairs and then proceed up them slowly and steadily. On another screen, Redd was still standing by the open bedroom door. Penny pressed in close beside me.
“Do you suppose he’s been searching our room?” she said quietly. “Opening our bags, and going through our things?”
“Let him,” I said. “It’s not as if he’d find anything.”
“But he might have been touching my personal things!”
“I doubt whether he’s that interested in female underwear,” I said. I looked at Redd for a long moment. “He’s standing very still, isn’t he? You’d expect him to be more nervous, up there on his own.”
MacKay appeared on a new screen as he reached the top of the stairs. He stopped there for a moment, staring thoughtfully down the corridor, before starting forward. Then every single screen in the centre went blank. Martin swore harshly, and worked frantically at his keyboard.
“Do something!” said Hayley. “Get him back. We need to know what’s going on. Anything could be happening up there!”
“I know!” said Martin. “I’m trying!” But nothing he did seemed to work. In the end he grabbed hold of his keyboard with both hands and shook it in sheer frustration. “It’s not responding! There’s nothing I can do!” He looked at the blank screens. “I promised I’d watch over him.”
“Go, Ishmael!” said Penny.
I raced out of the security centre, followed by Penny and then Hayley and Doyle. I soon left them behind as I sprinted across the entrance hall, reached the stairs and pounded up them two steps at a time. I was at the top before the others had even reached the bottom. I stood there looking down the long corridor, not even breathing hard. There was no sign of Redd anywhere, or MacKay. I strained my ears for the slightest sound, but there was nothing. I called out to MacKay. My voice fell flat in the quiet, and there was no response. I called out to Redd. Still nothing. Where were they? What were they doing? They had to know I was there.
“Martin?” I said. “Can you hear me?”
“Yes,” he said immediately, his voice coming out of nowhere. “I’ve got sound back, but no vision. I’m still working on that. What can you see?”
“Just an empty corridor,” I said. “Tell the others to stay where they are. I don’t want anyone coming up here until I’m sure it’s safe.”
“Got it,” said Martin. I heard his voice again, at the foot of the stairs, telling the others what I’d just told him. No one argued. I moved over to the nearest door and tried the handle. It was locked. I kicked the door in. The locked shattered and the door flew open, almost tearing itself off its hinges. I stepped inside the room and looked around, but there was nothing to suggest it had seen any recent use. I came back out, walked over to the door opposite and kicked that in. Another empty room. I went back out into the corridor, and considered my options.
“It’s Parker!” Martin’s voice said suddenly. “Some of my screens just started working and I can see Parker. He’s there, with you!”
“Where?” I said, looking up the corridor and then back at the stairs. “I don’t see him anywhere.”
“He just went into your room,” said Martin. “Hurry!”
I sprinted along the corridor, not caring that Martin could see how fast I was moving. It only took me a few moments to reach the far end. The door to our room was still standing open. I rushed in. The lights were on, but no one was there.
“I’ve got him!” Martin said excitedly. “I can see him again. He’s right at the top of the stairs.”
“What? How is that even possible?” I said. “There’s no way he could have got past me.”
“I don’t know!” said Martin. “But he’s there, I can see him. And he’s starting down the stairs, towards the others.”
Towards Penny . . .
I ran out of the room and raced down the corridor. I couldn’t see anyone ahead of me. I charged down the stairs, but when I finally reached the bottom and lurched to a halt only Penny and Hayley and Doyle were there waiting for me. Looking surprised, and more than a little startled at the speed of my return.
“What happened?” said Penny. “We heard you crashing about upstairs, but Martin said you wanted us to stay here.”
“Didn’t you see him?” I said.
“See who?” said Penny.
“Parker!” I said. “Martin caught him on his screens, coming down the stairs ahead of me.”
They all looked at each other, and then at me.
“No one’s come down these stairs since you went up them,” Doyle said carefully. “We haven’t seen anyone.”
“I saw him!” said Martin’s voice. “I did! Or at least, I thought I did. I mean, I saw someone and I think it was Parker. Are you sure you didn’t see anything, Ishmael? You must have been right behind him.”
“Nothing,” I said.
“He couldn’t have just disappeared between the top of the stairs and the bottom,” said Penny. “Could he?”
“Unless he’s a ghost, now,” said Doyle.
“First he’s a walking dead man,” I said. “And now he’s a ghost!”
“But he couldn’t have disappeared between the top and bottom of the stairs!” said Penny. “That’s impossible!”
“You’re right,” I said. And I frowned, thinking.
“Ishmael!” said Hayley. “What happened up there?”
“I didn’t see any sign of Redd or MacKay,” I said. “And they couldn’t have come down these stairs without you or me seeing them. So where did they go? All the rooms on that floor are locked, and the stairs are the only way down.”
“If anyone’s got a key to those rooms, it would be MacKay,” said Penny. “Did you check all the doors?”
“No,” I said. “I got distracted, chasing after people who weren’t there.”
“He was there,” Martin said sulkily. “Hold it! Some more of my screens just came back. I can see inside all the rooms on the top floor, and there’s no one in any of them.”
“We were talking earlier about hidden passageways,” said Penny. “Concealed doors and sliding panels in the walls. MacKay sent Redd and Baxter up to the top floor to look for them, earlier on. Maybe Redd found one and used it to hustle MacKay away.”
“Why would he want to do that?” said Doyle.
“If we’re lucky, he just wanted to show MacKay how the murderer could be moving around and avoiding us,” I said. “Hidden passageways would go a long way to explaining how our killer can appear and disappear so easily. And since the secret corridors would be the only place in the Lodge not covered by the surveillance systems, they would be the one place where Redd and MacKay could safely hold a private conversation.”
“And if we’re not lucky?” said Hayley.
“Do you really need me to say it?” I said. “Apparently you do. All right then, my apologies in advance to those of a delicate sensibility. A hidden passageway would be the perfect place to kill someone without being seen and then hide the bodies. Parker and Baxter’s bodies may already be in there.”
“But I saw Parker!” said Martin.
“You saw somebody,” I said.
Interesting changes took place in the faces before me. Some of the tension dropped away, as they realized hidden doors and secret tunnels went a long way towards excluding ghosts as a viable explanation. Penny smiled brightly, Hayley nodded thoughtfully, and Doyle began to breathe more easily. Of course, that still didn’t explain how anyone could disappear between the top and bottom of a staircase. I was still working on that one.
“The whole Lodge could be riddled with secret passages,” said Doyle. “Didn’t some old houses actually have hollow walls, for smugglers and the like?”
“There was no mention of that in the official family history of Ringstone Lodge,” said Hayley.
We all looked at her.
“I didn’t know there was one,” I said.
“There’s a copy in the library here,” said Hayley. “Privately published. MacKay mentioned it. I made a point of reading it as soon as I arrived. I like to know as much as possible about any new place I have to work in.”
Doyle looked at her. “You never told me . . . Did this official history mention the family ghosts as well?”
“Yes,” said Hayley. “Which is why I didn’t tell you. You’ve always had a thing about ghosts.”
“You should have told me!” said Doyle.
“What do we do now?” Penny said briskly. “Go looking for Redd and MacKay? Tap on the walls and kick the panelling?”
“Martin!” I said loudly. “Are you seeing Redd and MacKay anywhere?”
“Not so far,” said Martin. “But a lot of my screens are still down. I need more time.”
“How much time do we have before the reinforcements get here?” said Doyle.
“Not long now,” said Martin. “Doctor Hayley . . . Could you please come back here and join me in the centre? Something has just come up on one of my screens, and I’d value your opinion.”
“What is it?” said Hayley.
“Complicated . . .” said Martin. “You need to see this for yourself.”
“Oh, very well,” said Hayley.
She started off, and then stopped and looked back as she realized Doyle wasn’t going with her. She looked at him inquiringly, and he shook his head.
“I think I’ve spent long enough following you around, Alice.”
She reacted sharply, as though he’d slapped her. And then her head came up and she turned away, the set of her shoulders making it clear she wasn’t prepared to beg. She strode off, not looking back once. I had intended to go with her, to see what Martin had discovered; but that would have meant leaving Penny alone with Doyle, and I didn’t want her out of my sight. She liked to think she could look after herself, and most of the time she could. But I didn’t trust this house. Or any of the people in it. So the three of us stood together, at the foot of the stairs. Nobody seemed to want to say anything. Finally, Doyle turned to Penny.
“You’re not a professional assassin, are you?”
“No,” said Penny. “Not even a little bit.”
“I didn’t really think so,” said Doyle. “It’s just . . . when you’re desperate for answers, you can find yourself clasping at some pretty unlikely straws.”
“How long have you and Alice been together?” said Penny.
“Almost fifteen years. She found me in my academic hiding place and brought me out into the world. Showed me places and people I’d never even dreamed of. I’d thought I would be alone forever, but she freed me from the prison I’d made of my life. And for that kindness I would have followed her anywhere.”
“What did you do, before?” I said.
“Linguistics,” he said. “All very theoretical, nothing to do with the real world. Or so I thought. But Alice saw a value in my work . . . a chance to do something with it that mattered. The things we persuaded people to say saved lives and put an end to all kinds of evils. Or so we were told. It’s taken me till now to understand the kind of person the job made me into.”
“Sorry to interrupt,” said Martin’s voice, “but is Doctor Hayley still there with you? I’ve only got sound in the entrance hall.”
“No,” I said. “She left a while back. She should have reached you by now.”
“That’s what I thought,” said Martin. “But she isn’t here. And she could hardly have got lost along the way . . . I’m looking at what screens I’ve got, and I’m not seeing her anywhere.”
A horrible suspicion was growing in Doyle’s face. I started to say something reassuring, but he stopped me with a sharp gesture.
“Something’s wrong,” he said. “Something’s happened to her.”
“Let’s go to the security centre,” I said. “She might have stopped along the way to look at something.”
I didn’t believe that for one moment, but I didn’t want him panicking. He nodded quickly, and Penny and I walked him back through the entrance hall. There was no sign of Hayley anywhere; but on the other hand, there were no signs of violence or an abduction. When we finally reached the security centre, Martin already had the door opening for us—a sign of how worried he was. He looked at me inquiringly as we walked in, and I shook my head. Martin sat back in his chair and looked quickly around the various screens. Almost a third of them were still blank.
“I’ve got the microphones open,” he said. “But I’m not hearing her voice, or any signs of movement. I’ve called out to her, but if she can hear me she isn’t answering.”
“Then where is she?” said Doyle.
He didn’t wait for an answer, just turned suddenly and strode out of the security centre. He called out Hayley’s name, increasingly loudly, to no response. Penny and I looked at each other, and went after him. We found him standing at the foot of the stairs, murmuring her name over and over. He turned to look at us, his eyes full of tears.
“I should have gone with her,” he said. “But I wanted to hurt her, to make a point. I sent her away and now they’ve taken her.”
“Who’s taken her?” I said.
“The ghosts . . .” said Doyle. He turned away and screamed up the empty stairs, “Give her back to me!”
I had hoped the idea of secret passageways might distract him from his fixation with ghosts, but clearly it hadn’t taken. All his poise and self-confidence were gone again. His face was unhealthily pale, his chest heaved as he tried to get his breath, and his hands were trembling.
“She could have found one of the hidden doors,” said Penny, “and gone through to see where it led. That is the kind of thing she’d do, isn’t it?”
Doyle just shook his head miserably, refusing to be comforted.
I raised my voice. “Martin! Hayley said she found the official history of Ringstone Lodge in the library. Do you know where the library is?”
“Of course,” said Martin. “I’ve spent some time there. Did I mention how starved we are for entertainment in this dump?”
He gave me directions. I turned to Doyle.
“Come with us to the library,” I said. “There’s bound to be something in the official history about hidden doors.”
“The Lodge is full of secrets,” said Doyle. “Bad things have happened in this house, and I think some of them are still happening. We should never have come here.”
The library turned out to be little more than a simple reading room with packed bookshelves and a few comfortable chairs. Very civilized and very quiet, an oasis of peace in a busy house. With just the one small window, covered by a steel shutter. The light was bright and cheerful. I parked Doyle in one of the chairs and looked around the shelves.
“Martin! Where can we find this family history? What’s it called?”
“Beats me,” said Martin. “I can’t even remember the author’s name. It was all a bit dry and dull, as I recall. But it is there, somewhere.”
“Terrific,” said Penny, revolving slowly in the middle of the room so she could take in all the shelves. “Where do we start?”
“You take one side of the door and work your way round the room,” I said. “I’ll start from the other and we’ll meet up in the middle.”
Penny looked to Doyle to ask if he wanted to help her. But he was sitting slumped in his chair, lost in his own miserable thoughts.
Most of the books turned out to be the usual suspects; neat leather-bound volumes of Dickens and Trollope, and assorted paperback editions of Agatha Christie and Dick Francis. The kind of books you order by the yard to fill up shelves. Along with a sprinkling of local histories, and a small collection of quite specialized erotica. In the end, Penny found the family history first. Under “R,” for Ringstone Lodge. She brought the book triumphantly over to the single reading table, and the two of us studied it carefully. A large square edition, with good paper and binding and a really ugly typeface. Old enough to predate desktop publishing, it was probably a vanity-press production. The History of Ringstone Lodge covered several hundred years in barely two hundred pages. Penny found the index, which took her straight to the story of the Ringstone Witch—the woman who lay buried out back under the ominous tombstone.
“Her name was Hettie Longthorne,” said Penny, glancing quickly through the account. “Accused of placing a murrain on the surrounding lands, so that all young things died and the crops withered in the fields. When she refused to remove it, or more likely said she couldn’t, they hanged her.”
“But what’s her connection with the Lodge?” I said. “Why is she buried here, with such a high-born family?”
“If I’m reading between the lines correctly,” said Penny, “I’d say Hettie must have been born on the wrong side of the blanket and never acknowledged. Not welcome at the big house during her life, but buried here afterwards because the family felt guilty over not speaking up for her.”
“Would explain why they felt a need to put that inscription on her tombstone,” I said. “God Grant She Rest Easily.”
“Supporting an accused witch at her trial would not have been a wise or safe thing to do in those days,” said Penny.
“Did the murrain disappear, after she was hanged?” I said.
“Doesn’t say,” said Penny. She shot me a look. “You don’t believe in ghosts, but you do believe in witches?”
“Not necessarily,” I said. “Is there a picture of this Hettie Longthorne?”
“Just an old woodcut from a local broadsheet published at the time,” said Penny.
I leaned in beside her for a look. The illustration showed a tall slender figure in a long black robe. Something in the way the figure stood made me think she would have been quite young. Not a crone in a witch’s hat with a bubbling cauldron and a black cat. Just a young woman who stood accused. Perhaps because she was different.
“What does the book have to say about ghosts?” said Doyle.
Penny and I jumped, just a bit. Doyle had been quiet for so long we’d forgotten about him. He’d sunk right down in the big chair, as though all the strength had gone out of him. He looked lost without Alice to tell him what to do. There was nothing I could say to him. I liked to think Hayley was still out there somewhere, perhaps stumbling along some dark and cobwebbed secret corridor searching for an exit. Though that didn’t seem likely. More likely she was just another dead body waiting to be found. But of course I couldn’t say that to Doyle, so I nodded to Penny and she turned to the index again. And sure enough, there was a whole chapter on the ghosts of Ringstone Lodge.
Penny and I glanced quickly through it, summarizing aloud for Doyle’s benefit. There were any number of reported sightings down the years, but nothing out of the ordinary. A lady in white and a phantom monk, a skull that was supposed to scream on significant occasions, and a bloodstain on an old stone floor that couldn’t be cleaned away. All a bit generic, really, the kind of stories that accumulate around any ancient house. To raise a chill on a winter evening round the fire, or just so there was something to tell the tourists on open days.
“Martin thought Parker brought some kind of evil power with him,” I said finally. “To disturb and raise up the Ringstone ghosts. But there’s nothing here worth raising up. And I have to say, I never heard of Parker acquiring any kind of power out in the field. We might have worked in some similar areas, but he was basically just a spy. Stealing and selling information, and disposing of people with a price on their head.”
“Maybe he stole the wrong kind of information,” said Penny. “Or made some kind of deal to become unkillable.”
“No such thing,” I said. “No . . . I would have heard something, if Parker had that kind of power. You know how people in our line of work love to gossip. Is there anything in the book about the Lodge’s ghosts terrorizing people recently?”
Penny leafed quickly through the pages. I shot another glance at Doyle. He really wasn’t looking good, but then he’d been up and down a lot in the last few hours. He didn’t have the constitution for this kind of work, or this kind of world. He’d bounced back before, but that had been with Hayley’s help. I’d hoped bringing Doyle to the library with us might help him focus. But instead, he looked . . . haunted.
“Maybe the ghosts have come under Parker’s power,” Doyle said slowly, not looking up.
“What power?” I said, trying hard not to sound impatient with him. “If he’d had anything, the Organization would know and they would have told me. And MacKay, so he could oversee whatever precautions were necessary to hold Parker securely.”
“There’s nothing in the family history about ghosts acting up in modern times,” said Penny. “It’s all vague sightings, spooky old stories, and dire warnings about the perils of modernization.”
“Try the index again,” I said. “See if there’s anything on hidden doors or secret passageways.”
Penny sighed loudly, just to make it clear she wasn’t my servant, and turned to the back of the book again.
“Someone is trying to distract us from the real problem,” I said. “Parker’s murder. Everything that’s happened before and since is only important if it ties in to that.”
Penny closed the book with a snap. “Nothing on sliding panels, priest holes, or smugglers’ storerooms. Of course, it could be that the family kept such things to themselves, because they felt it was no one else’s business.”
“Where’s Alice?” said Doyle. “I want Alice.”
“Don’t worry, Robbie,” said Penny. “We’ll find her for you.”
“Don’t call me that,” he said. “Only she calls me that.”
Penny and I exchanged looks. The man was falling apart right in front of us, but short of finding Hayley I didn’t see what else we could do for him. Penny put the family history back on the shelf and looked at me thoughtfully.
“You keep saying we’re being distracted. From what exactly?”
“From the facts of the case,” I said. “Parker was murdered inside a locked room while under electronic surveillance. Everything that’s happened since has been designed to keep us from thinking about that. If we could solve the mystery of Parker’s murder, I’m convinced everything else would just fall into place.”
Doyle stirred in his chair, and looked directly at me for the first time. “Are you saying Baxter’s death and the disappearance of Redd and MacKay and my Alice are just . . . collateral damage? That they don’t matter in your great scheme of things?”
“Of course they matter,” I said. “It’s just . . .”
Doyle surged up out of his chair. “You worry about your theories. I’m going to look for Alice. Because somebody has to.”
He strode out of the library, and Penny and I had no choice except to hurry out after him.
But once we were on the other side of the door, Doyle didn’t seem to know what to do or where to go. So I led the way back to the security centre, hoping Martin might have his screens working properly again. Doyle said nothing as we moved quickly through the empty corridors, his eyes lost and unbearably sad. We passed by the foot of the stairs leading up to the next floor, and came to a sudden halt. Because there on the bottom step, set carefully side by side, were two severed heads. Hayley and Redd. His face looked resigned; Hayley’s looked quietly betrayed. Their unblinking eyes stared out across the entrance hall. Even as the anger hit me, I couldn’t help noticing how cleanly the severing cuts had been made, to allow the heads to rest neatly on the step. Someone had taken their time because they wanted to make an impression. And a statement.
Doyle sank to his knees facing Hayley’s head and sobbed like a small child. Penny put a comforting hand on his shoulder, but he didn’t even know she was there. Penny studied the two severed heads with cold, furious outrage, her lips pressed tightly together. Angry not just because these people had been murdered, but at what had been done to them. Turning horror and loss into a sideshow attraction. Penny was never more angry than when she was angry on someone else’s behalf.
I was angry because this proved I’d been right all along. This wasn’t the work of a ghost, or any malevolent spirit of the night. Someone was playing games with us.
“It seems our killer has found another use for his knife,” I said, thinking out loud. “He’s escalating, piling horror upon horror, to keep us from thinking straight. It’s just more distraction. But why? What is it that he’s so desperate to keep us from seeing?”
“I can’t believe how quickly this has all happened,” said Penny. “So many deaths in just a few hours . . . We were only talking to Hayley and Redd a short time ago.”
“This is no simple stabbing,” I said. “This took time and effort. Our killer has tried everything he could think of to scare us. Ghosts and disappearances and mysteries . . . and now he’s gone for the gore.”
“Concentrate, Ishmael,” Penny said sharply. “What do we do? Where do we go from here?”
“Our choice of suspects is shrinking,” I said slowly. “We know it isn’t us, and Doyle was in the library with us when all this was happening. So who does that leave? MacKay . . . and Martin.”
“Unless there is someone else in the house with us,” said Penny. “Martin saw someone on his screens. Remember?”
“Yes,” I said. “I remember.”
“MacKay’s been missing for some time,” said Penny. “More than enough to do something like this. And he was going to meet Redd.”
“Although Martin is supposed to have been in the security centre all this time,” I said, “he could have left while we were in the library . . .”
“But both MacKay and Martin have alibis for Parker’s murder,” said Penny.
“Yes,” I said. “Annoying, that. But then I’ve never had much time for alibis. Far too easy to fake, for any number of reasons.”
“What if Parker really has come back from the dead and is walking around the Lodge looking for revenge?” Penny said stubbornly. “Maybe that’s why he insisted on being brought here. For a chance to kill all of us. We have to consider the possibility, Ishmael, after everything we’ve experienced . . .”
“It is a possibility,” I said. “But not a good one. No, Penny, keep it simple. Someone in this house killed Parker for their own personal reasons. And they’re still here, even though they could have got out at any time through the unguarded window in the lounge. So our killer must have stayed on for a reason. Because he has unfinished business . . .”
“Such as?” said Penny.
“He wants us all dead,” I said. “So that when the reinforcements finally arrive there will be no surviving witnesses left to point the finger. He wants to vanish, leaving a mystery behind.”
Penny shuddered briefly, remembering. “How much longer is it till the reinforcements get here?”
I checked my watch and frowned. “It’s been well over an hour since Martin placed his emergency call. They should have been hammering on the door by now.” I raised my voice. “Martin! Can you hear me?”
We waited, but there was no reply.
“His systems must be down again,” I said. “We’d better go brace him in his hidey-hole and have him contact Headquarters again. See what’s happening.”
“No one’s attacked us yet,” said Penny. “If it should turn out to be the unkillable Parker, could you take him? I mean, I know you’re good, but . . .”
“It’s not him,” I said. “But if it was . . . I’m better than good. I’d rip his head off his shoulders and bounce it up and down the hall like a basketball. See how he’d manage then. But it seems to me there’s something distinctly sneaky about our killer. An undead, unkillable Parker wouldn’t need to hide, would he? The real killer has been taking down people who didn’t even try to defend themselves. Because they saw no reason to, until it was too late. And let us remember, these were all naturally suspicious people.”
“So what do you think is going on?” said Penny. “I mean, really going on?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “I hate being in situations I don’t understand. And I’m no nearer understanding why people are dying in Ringstone Lodge than when all this started.”
I stepped forward to look at the severed heads more closely. Penny came round the other side of the quietly crying Doyle, so she could look too. We weren’t being heartless, just focused.
“Where are the bodies?” I said finally. “Redd and Hayley weren’t killed here, or there’d be blood all over the place. And I would have heard or smelled something while that was happening.”
“Not in front of Doyle,” murmured Penny.
“I don’t think he’s hearing anything much at the moment,” I said.
And then Penny and I both looked up sharply, as we heard footsteps coming down the stairs. Heading straight for us. We stumbled back and looked up the stairs, and there was MacKay. Descending the steps with a cold, grim face and a gun in his hand. The gun was aimed unwaveringly at me. I stood very still, watching him carefully. MacKay finally came to a halt just a few steps above the two severed heads, and fixed me with a gaze as assured and implacable as a hanging judge’s.
“It’s you,” he said. “You’re the killer, Mr. Jones. And I will see you dead for what you have done here.”