What a Ghoul Wants (26 page)

There was also none of that musty old smell that comes with homes filled with the
furnishings of centuries past. Instead the air smelled clean and lemony, and each
wood surface gleamed with a polished sheen. I immediately loved the home. It was one
of those places that just welcomed you at every turn.

The dowager led us into a beautiful robin’s-egg-blue parlor with gold accents and
teal blue furnishings, and the moment I sat down on the sofa, I wanted to marry it.
I’d never sat on something so plush and comfortable.

Large windows allowed a good bit of the late-morning sun to warm the room, and as
we initially made small talk with the dowager—informing her of our backgrounds and
how we met and came to be in the cable TV business—I also warmed to the lovely woman
and wondered why I’d allowed the inspector’s words to shape my opinion of her before
meeting her.

After tea was served by a young woman in a traditional maid’s uniform, the countess
turned the conversation to Kidwellah Castle. “Now, you had asked about the history
of Kidwellah. The castle was built in the late thirteenth century and has a very rich
past—too much to go into for one sitting, so please tell me what era you’d most enjoy
hearing about and I’ll do my best to keep the history brief.”

Heath spoke up before I could. “We’d like to hear about the Grim Widow, ma’am. That
is, if you don’t mind sharing?”

That amused smile the dowager had worn since we first met widened and she actually
laughed. “Oh, of course you want to know about the Widow and her duke! It’s a sordid
tale, I assure you.”

The countess then recounted the story of the Grim Widow in much the same way as Arthur
had when we’d first asked him. Of course, the dowager’s account held a bit back in
that she didn’t mention the fact that the former Countess of Kidwellah had also murdered
a number of her husband’s friends and a house servant or two, but she did suggest
that the Widow had driven her husband mad and no one knew what had become of him.
It was speculated that he died somewhere out on the moors, or perhaps even drowned
himself in Lake Byrn y Bach.

When she’d finished, I took a deep breath and asked, “Ma’am, do you believe there’s
any truth to the rumors that the Widow is still murdering people?”

The dowager waved a dismissive hand. “Oh, pish!” she said. “Of course there’s no truth
to that. But if it will help bring the tourists to Kidwellah, then who am I to argue?”

I felt Heath sit back in surprise. I was pretty shocked too. “You don’t mind that
Kidwellah’s resident ghost has a murderous reputation?”

“Of course not!” she said with a light laugh. “It’s been very good for business, actually.
I cannot imagine why anyone would spend their holiday at a frightfully haunted castle,
but there are plenty of common folk in the world who seem more than willing to come
to my spooky little corner of Wales, and I for one am grateful.”

I looked again at the lavish surroundings. I couldn’t imagine the dowager was hard
up for money, so why would she encourage such rumors about her family’s heritage?

“You must think me rather vulgar,” she said when both Heath and I sat there a little
stunned by her admission.

“No,” I said quickly. “It’s just. . . surprising.”

“That I’d want to encourage a story like the Grim Widow’s ghost to entice tourists
to come stay at Kidwellah? My dear young lady, the high times of yesteryear’s aristocracy
have long gone by! Most of the landed gentry in this country have had to resort to
such measures as charging the general public admission for a guided tour of the family
home in order to save those estates from ruin. The farmers who once tilled our soils
and paid us rent have moved to the cities, and grand estates such as Kidwellah have
suffered greatly for it. I would do anything to save my family’s castle, and I am
not above turning Kidwellah into a tourist trap in order to keep it from being gobbled
up by the tax man and ultimately sold off piece by piece.”

“So sorry,” I said. “I hadn’t considered that. Still, ma’am, if you’ll pardon my intrusion
into your personal affairs, people are dying at Kidwellah Castle. It’s a very dangerous
place. Just in the last few days two men and one woman have been mur—”

“And their killer has been caught!” the dowager interrupted, and it was clear I’d
finally struck a chord.

“I don’t mean to argue with you,” I replied very gently. “But I have my doubts about
the man they’ve arrested.”

“Inspector Lumley told me he feels quite confident he’s arrested the right person,”
she countered. “He also believes this male model is responsible for the other two
deaths in recent days. A most unsettling thing to have hosted that murderer at Kidwellah,
but how was I to know he had such nefarious intentions?”

“Even if Franco did murder those people, ma’am, I still feel the moat is exceptionally
dangerous, and perhaps you might consider draining it?” I asked.

“Drain the moat?” she repeated, as if she couldn’t believe I’d suggested it. “What
is a grand castle like Kidwellah without its moat?! Just another castle in the countryside,
I say. No, no, no, Miss Holliday. I will never rob my castle of its most appealing
aspect.”

“Forgive me, ma’am,” Heath said, “but I very nearly drowned in that appealing aspect
two days ago.”

The dowager looked at him in surprise. “You were the young man that fell into the
water?”

“I didn’t exactly fall, ma’am. I was pulled in by the Grim Widow.”

Lady Hathaway put a hand to her mouth. “Where were you when this happened?” she asked.

“We were in a little tunnel leading from the main courtyard to the other side of the
moat,” Heath told her.

“Who the devil let you in there?” she demanded. “That area is restricted. Absolutely
no one outside of castle staff is allowed in there.”

I gulped, afraid we were about to get Mr. Crunn in trouble. “We found it ourselves,
ma’am, when we heard that the police had discovered Merrick Brown’s body.”

“The door was unlocked?” she pressed.

Heath and I exchanged an uncomfortable look. Either way we sliced it, we were about
to rat out Crunn. “It was locked, but then I tried the handle a second time and it
gave way. I believe the Widow unlocked it, as ghosts are known for tricks like that,”
I said.

Lady Hathaway narrowed her eyes at me, and I thought she could sniff out the lie,
but she didn’t press the point and shifted her gaze to Heath. “Well, you were in a
restricted area, Mr. Whitefeather. The castle is perfectly safe if you keep to those
areas designated for guests. I should think you would be mindful of that the next
time you two attempt to access locked doors.”

Heath nudged me with his knee. It was clear that the countess was in a state of total
denial about the dangers lurking in her family’s estate, and convincing her to shut
the doors of the castle, or even to drain the moat, was out of the question.

Somewhere in the background the dowager’s phone rang and after a moment her butler
appeared and said, “Ma’am, the telephone is for you.”

Heath and I stood up, knowing that was our cue to leave. “Thank you so much for your
time,” I said, feeling no real appreciation whatsoever. Still, I managed to tamp down
my anger and frustration with our host and move with Heath to the door.

“Do let me know when your little show will be airing!” the dowager called after us.
“I should hope it brings a good crowd of eager ghost-hunting tourists to Kidwellah’s
doors!”

I felt my stomach muscles clench and I had to clamp my jaws together to bite back
the remark threatening to bubble up and insult the Countess Lady Hathaway. I desperately
wanted to tell her off, but Heath’s gentle hand on my arm kept me on course, and we
made our way quickly out of the cottage.

After we’d gotten to the road, Heath wrapped his arm around my shoulder and pulled
me into his side for a hug. “I know you’re mad. . . .”

“That woman is so. . . so. . . stupid!” I snapped. “And all for the sake of the almighty
pound note! Keeping the doors of Kidwellah open so that even
more
people can drown in her moat?
Who
does that?”

“You know what this means, don’t you?”

I looked up at him, my rant temporarily sidetracked. “Means? No. What does it mean?”

“It means that we have no choice, Em. We’ve got to find a way to shut down the Widow.”

That sobered me, and all the anger I’d felt only a moment earlier evaporated at the
prospect of directly taking on a spook as powerful and deadly as the Widow. “Do you
have any ideas?” I asked him.

Heath scratched at the scruff on his chin. I noticed he hadn’t had a chance to shave
that morning. “Well, we’ll have to find her portal, free the prisoners, pack the opening
with magnets, and avoid getting killed in the process.”

I sighed. I knew he was just trying to lighten the mood with a little mocking humor.
“So you have no ideas—is that what you’re saying?”

“Not a one,” he admitted.

I sighed a second time. “I need to talk to your grandfather.”

Heath grinned. “He hasn’t been around much on this bust, has he?”

“Actually, he has. He helped me out the other night when I went looking for Gopher,
Meg, and Kim in the south wing. He kept me safe from the Widow for as long as he could,
in fact. I think he expended a ton of energy and he’s been recharging since then,
but I’ve really been feeling his absence. Maybe before I catch a few z’s tonight I’ll
call out to him and ask him to visit me in my dreams.”

“Man, I hope he can help us with some ideas about how to tackle this bust. What’s
your game plan for tonight’s hunt, by the way?”

“Well, assuming the girls manage to make us all vests, I thought we could set out
for the moors and possibly get some footage of the duke. . . .” My voice trailed off
as I realized something.

“What?” Heath asked.

“You know what’s funny? We’ve heard that the Widow drove her husband mad, then he
wandered off and likely drowned, but he’s the only one of her victims we’ve encountered
so far that’s not chained to her. I wonder why that is.”

“Because he died before her,” Heath said simply. “If the duke became a ghost before
the Widow, he would have had time to adjust to his new state of existence, and would
have not been influenced by her ghost after she died.”

“Of course,” I said. “That’s why he was able to stare her down when he stood next
to me on that little strip outside the south wing. He’s got her number, which is why
I really want to find him and talk to him. He might be able to help us.”

The castle came into view just then and we both paused along the road to stare at
it. “Run all that by Gramps, though,” Heath cautioned after a moment of silence. “Also,
tell him thanks for the other day. Now that I’m back hanging out with you, I remember
why I like this plane so much.”

I took up his hand and said, “Count on it, sweetie, and, from my heart, thanks for
coming back to me.”

Chapter 11

Heath and I scouted the moors for an hour, trying to map out where we wanted to shoot
and what physical objects to watch out for in the dark. Once we’d settled on a section
of the moors close to the south end of the castle, we headed back to the bus stop,
caught a ride into town, ate a quick lunch, then got back to check in with Gopher
and the rest of the crew.

Our illustrious producer started yelling the moment he heard where we’d been earlier
that morning.
“What do you mean, you sat down with the dowager of Penbigh and didn’t get it on film?!
How could you let an opportunity like that go by without even thinking about capturing
it?!”

I stared at him through half-lowered lids. “It’s not like we carry a camera with us
everywhere we go, Gopher.”

Gopher reached out and grabbed my wrist. As he lifted it up dramatically, I realized
I was holding my iPhone. . . the one with the built-in video recorder. I yanked my
wrist out of his grasp. “I didn’t think about documenting it,” I admitted.

“The dowager probably wasn’t gonna let us record her comments anyway, Gopher,” Heath
said.

“You could’ve at least asked,” he growled. Then he motioned for us to follow him and
we did, walking the now familiar path into the dining hall. Immediately I realized
that most of the section in the back had been converted to Gopher’s new command post.
On the large round table he’d piled up all our ghost-hunting equipment—save for Gilley’s
monitoring computer and additional view screen—and on the wall he’d posted a whole
series of notes that listed things we had, things we needed, shots to consider, and
a rough outline of the storyboard for the movie.

As we walked to the table, I noticed the stiff set to Gopher’s shoulders. It’d been
a long time since he’d done a movie, I knew, and maybe all this pressure from Chris
at the network was starting to weigh heavily on him.

“Here,” he said when we reached the table. I took what he’d picked up and was now
handing to me. It was a small digital camera—brand-new, I noticed, a rarity on our
shoots.

“Thanks,” I said, eyeing the object moodily. “But why don’t I just use my iPhone?”

Gopher answered me while fiddling with several other gadgets. “Because the quality
on the one I just gave you is much better and it’s equipped with night vision.”

“Really?” Heath said, taking one for himself. “But it’s so little.”

“It’s cutting-edge,” Gopher explained. “We’ve got the budget for it now, so I figured
it was okay to splurge a little.”

“How’d you get it here so fast?”

“The manufacturer is in Britain. I ordered these late yesterday express delivery.
They came in about an hour ago. The whole crew should have one, and from here on out
I want
everything
on film.” I couldn’t ignore the stink-eye accompanying that last remark.

“Noted,” I said drily. I had no intention of walking around stupidly with my camera
on, but when Gopher was in one of his moods, I’d learned it was best not to argue.

Next, Gopher handed me a small object that looked very much like a Nano iPod. “That’s
your new electrostatic meter,” he said before picking up a third object, which looked
a bit clunky. “That’s a full-spectrum HD video recorder. It’s got an infrared sensor
on both sides of it, which should allow you to see any spook even if they aren’t in
full form.”

Heath reached out and took the camera from Gopher. “No way,” he said with obvious
admiration. “I read about these. The theory goes that spooks kick out a lot of infrared
light even when they’re powered down.”

“That’ll be good out on the moors,” I said, thinking the duke wasn’t likely to be
as powerful as the Widow, and therefore less likely to hold a full form as he wandered
the moors. Maybe we could find him more readily by using this newest gizmo. “And speaking
of gadgets, has anyone seen Gil?”

“He and Michel went into town a while ago,” Gopher told me.

I remembered that I’d asked Gil to get Heath a new cell phone, but I didn’t think
it would take this long. I glanced at my watch and asked, “How long ago, Gopher? Do
you remember?”

He shrugged. “Right after the meeting, I think.”

I felt my jaw clench. That was several hours before. “He should’ve been back by now.
I assigned him a ton of research I need by tonight.”

Gopher looked at me critically. “And you thought he’d listen?”

I growled low in my throat and marched away from the table, intent on finding Gilley
and knocking some sense into him. Preferably with a large heavy object.

Heath came to my side, still carrying the full-spectrum camera. “This thing is too
cool.”

“You’ll keep saying that until the Widow fills the screen.”

“Good point,” he said. “You heading out to have a talk with our little buddy?”

“No.”

“No?”

“I’m going to kill Gil.”

Heath chuckled. “Well, Uma, it’s a good thing I’m coming along, then.”

We spent the next two hours looking for Gilley and Michel. Heath and I rode the bus
back into town, and searched all the cellular stores (okay, so there were only two,
but they were at opposite ends of town). We checked the restaurants, library, park.
No sign of them. All the while I repeatedly texted and called Gilley, with no reply,
and as the time went by without a hint of either of them, I could feel a tightening
in my chest and my worst fears about Gilley’s well-being began filling my mind. At
last, Heath and I went back to the castle, and as we got off the bus, I saw a taxi
pull up, and Gil and Michel got out, giggling and nudging each other playfully.

After closing the car door, Gilley tapped at his phone dramatically, placed it to
his ear, and waved at Michel, when the shiny new phone he was carrying began to ring.

I balled my hands into fists as I began to make my way to the pair. Meanwhile Michel
put the phone to his ear and said, “Hello?”

In an awful upper-crust English accent, Gil said, “Collect call from London, Michel.
Will you accept the charges?”

Michel laughed and said, “No!”

To which Gilley replied, “Very well! The queen will call back!”

Both of them dissolved into a fit of giggles and were I not so furious, I might have
found them funny too. “Gilley!” I yelled, and both he and Michel jumped, their giggling
coming to an abrupt end.

“Uh-oh,” Gil muttered as he spun around to see me. “Hey, M. J.! I got Heath his cell
phone.” He dug into his pocket and pulled out another phone, which he meekly offered
up to me.

By now I was so mad I couldn’t even form a sentence. “You. . . I. . . told. . .
research
!”

Gilley sighed. Knowing he was in trouble, he adopted a completely different attitude.
Disdain. “Shrieking like that isn’t a good look for you, honey.”

For a second I saw red and I flew at Gilley, ready to thump him but good. Heath caught
me around the waist and turned with me in a half circle until I stopped clawing the
air and threatening to cause Gil great bodily harm.

When I’d regained my composure (translation: when I’d stopped frothing at the mouth),
Heath turned me back to face the two truants and this time I noticed that Gil appeared
a little less confident about being in my presence.

“It took forever to get the phones,” he said lamely.

I didn’t even bother to answer. I just glared at him. For all I was worth.

“Okay, okay!” Gil finally said. “I’ll head in and get you your precious research!”

“I want it by tonight!” I yelled as he and Michel hurried to get away from me.

After they’d gone on ahead, Heath’s soft laughter filled my ears. Finally feeling
the relief of discovering that Gilley was okay and letting go of some of my anger,
I couldn’t help but smile too. “Not too loud or you’ll encourage him,” I said to Heath.

“Oh, I think he’s way past needing encouragement, Em.”

“The little bugger,” I grumbled. “He has some nerve giving me that attitude. Not a
good look for me. . . can you believe he said that?”

“Well, you did kind of embarrass him in front of Michel,” Heath said gently. “And
Gilley definitely has a thing for the photographer.”

“Damn,” I said.

“What?”

“You’re making me feel bad about yelling at him.”

“Oh, you had every right to yell, babe. I mean—he had it coming.”

“Yeah,” I said, feeling considerably less guilty now that Heath reminded me of that.

Just then we saw Michel spin around and hurry back up the path to us. “I almost forgot
to ask. Did you want me to e-mail you the photos I took? Or should I just send them
to Gopher?”

That came as a surprise. “You already took the photos of the castle?”

Michel nodded. “Before we went into town. It didn’t take long.”

“Did you wear a vest?” I asked, seeing that he had nothing more protective on than
a light coat.

“Gilley wore his sweatshirt and stuck close to me. We never came into danger.”

“Ah. . . ,” I said, at a loss for words. “I guess you can e-mail the photos to both
me and Gopher. Gilley’s got the addresses.”

Michel nodded and was off again to Gilley’s side. As I stared at them and the way
they so easily fell into step together, I wondered if Gil had at last met someone
special. I hoped so. He’d been having a hell of a dry spell for nearly a year and
a half now. And as long as I’d known him, Gil had never before had a dry spell longer
than a month or two.

“They make a good pair,” Heath said.

I bumped him playfully with my shoulder. “You softy.”

He looped his arm around me. “It’d be nice to see Gil have someone special in his
life. I think it’s been hard on him being our third wheel all this time.”

“Yeah. You’re right. It would be good for Gil. Just as long as he doesn’t get too
distracted from his job.”

Heath chuckled. “You say that like you actually believe he won’t.”

I grinned. “Wishful thinking. Come on, let’s check in with the girls and see how the
vests are coming along.”

Once we were back at the castle, I went up to Meg and Kim’s room to check on their
progress, while Heath went in search of Gilley to retrieve the cell phone we’d both
forgotten to take from him. To my surprise and relief Meg and Kim had completed five
of the eight vests we’d need. “That one’s yours,” Kim said. “But there’s a problem.”

“What’s that?” I asked, picking up the heavy garment and trying it on. Once I had
it zipped, it really wasn’t uncomfortable or overly heavy.

“We’re running out of magnets. I figure we’ll only have enough for six vests.”

“Gil’s got some reserves,” I suggested, remembering the packs of magnets he’d stuffed
his pockets with on the night he’d given me his sweatshirt. I knew he’d added many
of those to the sweatshirt once he’d gotten it back, but still, he had to have a lot
left over.

“He already gave us all his extras,” Kim said.

My brow furrowed. “When?” I knew Kim and Meg had left the meeting early, and Gopher
had said that Gil and Michel had gone into town right after the meeting.

“We bumped into him when he and Michel were coming in from taking some photos of the
castle. He told us he had a few packets we could use upstairs, which was good, because
we really underestimated the number of magnets we’d need per vest. We’ve already used
all of Gilley’s extra packs up, and the ones we bought this morning.”

I looked at my watch. It was already quarter to five and we’d never have time to make
a third trip to town and try to hunt for more magnets before the night’s shoot. “Crap.
Okay, so Gil can just wear his sweatshirt until we get more magnets tomorrow.”

“But that still leaves one person without protection.”

“I know,” I said, trying to think through the issue. The problem was that anyone out
in the field tonight would absolutely need a vest.

“We could undo some of the ones we’ve finished and take out a few magnets here and
there,” Kim suggested.

“How many magnets have you put in each vest?” I asked. My own vest felt packed with
a small stack of magnets in each quilt.

“Fifty. We doubled up in a few places because we wanted to make sure we’re all protected.”

I tapped my lip, still calculating in my head. “Gilley’s sweatshirt had at least that
many and the Widow still hit me pretty hard when I encountered her. No. . . don’t
take out any from the ones that are done. Someone’s going to have to stay behind tonight.”

“Who?” they asked in unison.

“Someone who’s not going to like it,” I muttered. I didn’t want to tell them before
I’d had a chance to talk with my chosen person. “Listen, you two keep up the great
work. We’re all heading to dinner in about an hour. Do you think you can finish the
last vest before then?”

Kim held up the garment she was working on. “It’s almost there, M. J.”

“Awesome. You guys rock. I’ll send John up to help you carry these down and we’ll
hand them out at dinner, but I’ll take mine and Heath’s for now.” With that, I bid
them adieu and headed back downstairs to the dining hall.

I found Gopher on the phone, pacing back and forth. He wasn’t talking much, but he
was absently nodding his head. I had a feeling Chris was on the other end of the line.
“Yeah, buddy, I know,” Gopher said while I waited patiently for him to end the call.
“We’ll work on getting more of her on film. I think we’re going back into that wing
tonight or tomorrow.” There was a pause, then, “Okay, you got it. We’ll definitely
go there tonight.”

My left eyebrow arched. There was
no way
we were going back into the Widow’s wing tonight. I didn’t feel prepared and I knew
the crew would be on edge until we’d at least done some preliminary shooting as a
group.

Once Gopher hung up, I first confronted him about what he’d just agreed to. “We’re
not going hunting for the Widow tonight, Gopher.”

My producer set his phone down and pinched the bridge of his nose. “M. J., please. . .
not now. I’ve got a killer headache.”