To Stella’s astonishment, inside the garage sat the family’s beautiful Rolls Royce. Except it wasn’t beautiful any more. The car was now a jumble of broken glass and twisted metal. The windscreen was smashed, and the bonnet had been squashed to pieces.
The silver-lady statuette that stood proudly above the engine on all Rolls Royces was bent over to one side. In the months since the accident the car had become coated in a thick layer of dust. A spider had even spun a cobweb in one of the broken windows.
Stella wept a river of tears upon seeing the car like this. It made everything real. There really had been a horrific car crash, and judging by the extent of the damage Stella was extremely lucky to be alive. Anyone sitting on the front seats would have been killed in an instant.
“I’m so sorry, m’lady,” whispered Soot. Spotting an oily rag on the floor, he bent down to pick it up. “’Ere, wipe yer eyes on this. I know it’s not one of yer posh lacy ’andkerchiefs, but it’s the best I can do.”
Stella was touched by his kindness, and took it with a smile. “Maybe I was wrong to doubt my aunt, she must be telling the truth about the accident,” said the girl. She sniffed as she wiped her face, which was now a mess of tears, coal and soot.
“Why lock ya down in the coal cellar if the old witch has nuffink to hide?”
“She said it was for my own good,” reasoned Stella. “So I wouldn’t try running away again in the middle of the night.”
The ghost shook his head. “It smells very fishy to me, m’lady. Now fink. Can ya ’member anyfink about the crash?” he asked. “Anyfink at all?”
The girl searched her mind. “It’s all such a blur.”
“Anyfink?” insisted Soot. “Don’t have to be summink big. Anyfink. Summink small might give us a great big clue to solvin’ the case.” The ghost was really sounding like a detective now.
Stella thought for a moment, before retracing the events of that day in her mind. “Papa and Mama and I were going to motor down to London. Papa had to go to the bank again. You see my aunt had got us all into terrible debt, and Papa is…” The girl stopped herself for a moment as Soot offered her a supportive smile. “I mean Papa was so charming and clever he always managed to persuade the bank manager to let us keep Saxby Hall. And Mama knew I wanted to see Buckingham Place where the King lives. We never had any money to go inside anywhere. But I didn’t mind. I loved my mama so much it never mattered what we did, just as long as we were together, my arm tucked into hers.”
“Yer old ma must ’ave been a very special lady,” murmured Soot.
For a moment the pair stood in the garage in a sad silence, as the sound of a snowstorm swirled outside.
“She was,” Stella agreed eventually. She’d never have thought that the former Lady Saxby would be described as ‘yer old ma’, but she knew Soot meant it nicely.
“Wot about yer aunt? Did she come wiv ya?” asked the boy.
The girl shook her head. “Papa asked her if she wanted to come, but she said no. Sometimes she would want a ride into London to buy toys for her pet owl to rip to shreds, but not that day.”
“That bird gives me the willies!” exclaimed Soot. “He’s ’ad a good peck at me over the years. Chased me up chimneys quite a few times.”
“They say animals can sense ghosts,” said Stella.
“It’s more than sense, m’lady. He can see me as clear as day. All animals can. So why didn’t yer aunt come too?”
“Oh yes. Well Alberta was very sure she wanted to stay at home.”
“Interestink. Very interestink.” The ghost was rubbing his chin now, taking to this sleuthing role perfectly. “So do ya ’member anything at all about the crash?”
“No,” replied the girl. “Nothing at all. The last thing I recall was feeling very ill and passing out on the back seat of the Rolls.”
The ghost had been pacing up and down the garage, but now stopped dead still. This sounded like an important clue. “Ill, m’lady?”
“Yes, I was feeling sick, and I was sweating even though it was a cold day.”
“Go on.”
“As we motored into town I kept on closing my eyes. The last time I closed them, that’s when the Rolls must have crashed.”
“Wot about yer ma and pa?”
The girl’s mind was racing. It was all coming back to her. “Mama told me she didn’t feel well either, but she knew that Papa’s meeting with the bank manager was very important. He had to save Saxby Hall. She didn’t want him to have to turn back for her.”
Soot was convinced they were on to something now. “Wot about yer pa?”
“I don’t know,” replied the girl with a sigh. “If he wasn’t feeling well, he hid it. But that’s what Papa was like. He always kept a stiff upper lip.”
The ghost began pacing up and down again, trying to put all the pieces of the puzzle together. “If yer old man was feelin’ ill too, that could explain the crash.”
“I know,” agreed the girl. “Sitting on the back seat I kept feeling like I was blacking out.”
“Wot could make ya all ill like that?” said Soot, almost to himself. “Was there a funny smell of anyfink in the car?”
“A funny smell? Like what?”
“Dunno. Fumes from the exhaust maybe? That could make you all feel ill.”
“No.” The girl was certain of that. “There was never anything wrong with the car. It was Papa’s pride and joy. He always kept the Rolls in mint condition. The engine purred like a cat when he drove it.”
“Then if it’s not the car,” muttered the ghost, “there must be summink else. Did ya all ’ave anyfink strange to eat dat mornin’?”
“No. Mama cooked us boiled eggs with soldiers. We had that for breakfast every day.” Suddenly Stella remembered something. “But…”
“Yeah?” The ghost seized upon this.
“Well, Aunt Alberta made us all a pot of tea that morning.”
“A pot of tea?”
“Yes. And she never made us tea. She would never normally do anything like that for us ever. That’s why I remembered it. And I remember saying to Mama that the tea tasted funny…”
“Funny?”
“Well, I mean funny peculiar. Strange. But Mama told me to drink it up, so as not to be rude to Alberta. I couldn’t stomach it though, so when nobody was looking I poured my cup out into a plant pot.”
“Wot did it taste like, m’lady?” asked Soot.
Stella was desperately trying to remember. “I must have only had a mouthful. Bitter somehow. I put lashings of milk and sugar in my tea, but it definitely had a bitter aftertaste.”
“Did yer aunt ’ave any of her tea?”
“No. No. She didn’t.” Stella was sure of it. “Aunt Alberta poured out a cup from the pot for herself, but she never had a sip.”
“Did yer ma and pa fink it tasted funny too?”
“Well, if they did they were too polite to say so in front of her,” replied Stella. “But I noticed them both grimace when they drank it.” Suddenly a thought raced across her mind like a bolt of lightning. “Alberta must have laced the tea with…”
The pair looked at each other and spoke at the same time.
“POISON!”