It was the morning after the case before. A politician had been murdered in a toilet locked from the inside, on a moving train, and the suspects involved too many people with secrets and a psychic assassin who wasn’t even there. Business as usual, in my line of work. Penny and I found the killer, and handed him over to the authorities when the train arrived at Bath, but by then it was too late to get a train back to London, so we had to spend the night at a hotel.
The Celtic Crown Hotel must have known better days, but I would have been hard pressed to say when. Still, when you arrive around midnight without a reservation or luggage, you have to take what you can get.
Penny and I slept in so late the next morning that when we finally went down for breakfast, the dining area was completely deserted. The staff apparently had more important things to do than wait on us, or even look in occasionally to make sure we weren’t stealing the cutlery, so Penny and I just helped ourselves to whatever was left on the hotplates.
I rarely feel up to anything more daunting than a cup of exceedingly black coffee first thing, and I watched with quiet awe as Penny loaded up her plate with a generous sampling of everything on offer. Sausage, bacon, eggs, baked beans, mushrooms and waffles – not so much the Full English as the complete Death by Cholesterol.
Even though all the tables were empty, I’d made a point of choosing one right in the middle of the room, just to make sure no one could sneak up on us without my noticing. The price of security is endless paranoia. I sat quietly, nursing my coffee and waiting for the rest of me to wake up, while Penny attacked the most important meal of her day with cheerful enthusiasm.
She looked really good for someone who’d had to make do with the tiny bottles of generic soap and shampoo supplied by the hotel. A bright young woman with dramatic features, Penny possessed a trim figure, far too much energy for her own good, and a mass of dark hair piled up on top of her head. Her stylish dress of black and white squares currently looked more than a little crumpled, but I wasn’t going to be the one to tell her. She caught me studying her and flashed me a dazzling smile.
‘I know you don’t approve of my choice in breakfasts, darling, but I need to prime the pump a little before I can get stuck into my day.’
‘I’m just amazed you could pile so much on to one plate,’ I said. ‘That’s not a meal; it’s the leaning tower of sudden heart failure.’
‘Given how much the hotel is charging us for our cramped and not even a little bit cosy room, with grey bed sheets and noisy plumbing, I think we’re entitled to make the most of our complimentary breakfast,’ said Penny. ‘Once I’m done with this, I’m going back to check out the cereals and pick up one of every fruit juice they’ve got.’
‘You’ll end up rumbling all morning,’ I said severely. ‘And then want to nap all afternoon.’
She shrugged easily. ‘What does it matter? The case is over, and we’re on our own time.’ And then she stopped and looked at me speculatively. ‘I know all of this is bad for me, but do you have to worry about things like blocked arteries?’
‘Not really,’ I said. ‘You can’t live as long as I have without aging and not suspect the transformation machines made a few improvements on the basic model. My system doesn’t even notice things like cholesterol or sugar, and alcohol has never had any effect on me.’
Penny frowned as she stabbed a piece of sausage with her fork before it could get away. ‘If the machines made you human so you could fit in, why did they introduce changes that would be bound to make you stand out?’
‘I’ve always assumed the machines were damaged in the crash,’ I said.
Penny chewed slowly. ‘Unless they did it deliberately.’
‘Why would they want to do that?’
‘I don’t know. Perhaps you should ask the other crash survivor.’
For most of my life I’d believed I was the only one to walk away from the fallen starship, but as a reward for solving our last case in record time, a psychic called Mr Nemo (literally Mr Nobody) had given my memories a nudge and helped me remember that there was another.
My life can get a little weird sometimes, but I’ve learned to roll with the punches.
‘There are a great many things I plan on asking,’ I said, ‘when I finally track them down. Probably starting with why they’ve never once reached out to me since we became separated in 1963.’
‘All the years you’ve lived,’ said Penny, ‘all the things you’ve done, the people you’ve helped and the monsters you’ve faced down … It makes my life feel so small, and limited. You walk through the world untouched because you’re stronger than anything in it. Everything else just breaks against you.’
‘Not everything,’ I said. ‘You’ve seen the scars. What brought this on, all of a sudden?’
‘How long do you expect to live, Ishmael?’ Penny said bluntly. ‘How many more years do you think you have in you? How many more than me? You might not age, but I do. What happens when I’m old, and you’re … still you?’
‘I have no idea how long I might live,’ I said steadily. ‘How could I? But … human is as human does. All that matters is that I have every intention of spending the rest of my life with you. However long that turns out to be.’
Penny smiled suddenly. ‘You say the sweetest things, darling. If I push you hard enough.’
She attacked her breakfast with renewed enthusiasm while I concentrated on my coffee, thinking my own thoughts. Discovering I wasn’t the only one like me in this world had come as something of a shock. If I couldn’t trust my earliest memories, what else might I be wrong about? I was sure I was alone when I stumbled away from the crash site, struggling to come to terms with who I suddenly was. So why had my fellow changeling chosen to abandon me?
Finally, Penny cleared her plate, pushed it away and sat back with a satisfied sigh.
‘How much do you remember about the second crash survivor, Ishmael?’
I wasn’t surprised to find her thoughts had been following mine. That’s what makes us such good partners.
‘I don’t remember their face, or even whether they were male or female. I don’t know how we got separated after we left the ship, or why they left me to make my own way in this world for so many years.’
‘Maybe they were as confused as you,’ said Penny. ‘And then … couldn’t find you again afterwards.’
‘Maybe,’ I said. ‘Or perhaps they actually tracked me down long ago and made themselves a part of my life without saying anything, so they could watch over me until I did remember.’
Penny sat up straight, her eyes widening. ‘You think they might be someone you already know? Why wouldn’t they have revealed themselves?’
‘I don’t know,’ I said.
Penny frowned. ‘What if they’ve been keeping their distance for a purpose? What if they remember something that you need to be protected from?’
‘Then I need to know what that is,’ I said.
We both broke off and looked round, as the door to the dining area slammed open and a tall, imposing presence came striding in. Broad-shouldered and barrel-chested, with a gleaming shaven head and skin so dark it had blue highlights, he wore a smart pinstripe suit, white leather gloves and a yellow silk cravat. He was also carrying a large briefcase and heading straight for Penny and me.
‘Who is that?’ said Penny. ‘Do you know him, Ishmael?’
‘No,’ I said. ‘But it looks like he knows us. Which is not the way things are supposed to be.’
The newcomer favoured us with a warm and convivial smile as he drew nearer, but it didn’t even come close to touching his eyes. I didn’t need to see any ID to know he was one of us. One secret operative can always recognize another; it’s something in the way we look at the world, as though we know something no one else does. And usually things no one else would want to know.
I glanced unobtrusively around, checking out how far it was to the other exits, just in case things turned suddenly unpleasant, and so that I could be sure no one else was trying to sneak up on Penny and me while we were distracted.
‘He’s doing his best to look friendly, but I’m not buying it,’ said Penny. ‘He’s a big man, sweetie; could you take him?’
‘Probably,’ I said. ‘Depends what he has in that briefcase.’
‘All right; you knock him over and I’ll kick him while he’s down.’
‘You are a bad influence on me.’
‘Everything I know, I learned from watching you and taking notes.’
‘Good to know you were paying attention,’ I said.
‘He must be able to hear what we’re saying,’ said Penny. ‘But he’s still heading our way. Which isn’t at all ominous. Any idea who this person might be?’
‘I recognize the casual arrogance,’ I said. ‘Clearly an officer type. I wonder who he works for?’
‘And why he’s come here to bother us on our day off,’ said Penny.
The big man never stopped smiling as he wended his way through the maze of tables to join us. He finally came to a halt and inclined his head courteously. ‘A very good morning to the both of you, Mr Ishmael Jones and Ms Penny Belcourt! I have the honour to represent the Organization. You may call me Mr Whisper.’
His voice was quiet, little more than a harsh murmur. Some people don’t put nearly enough thought into their code names. I eased my chair back from the table, so it wouldn’t get in the way if I found it necessary to get to my feet in a hurry. In most fights, it pays to be the one who thinks ahead.
‘I only talk to the Colonel,’ I said coldly. ‘He is my sole point of contact with the Organization. That was the agreement when I first joined.’
‘Unfortunately, the Colonel is not currently available,’ said Whisper.
‘How very convenient,’ I said.
‘Not particularly, no,’ said Whisper. ‘But if you would care to consider how your last case ended, with all its various security implications, you’ll understand why he’s found it necessary to go off the grid and under the radar for a while. I am here in his place, to discuss a matter of some little urgency.’
I studied him thoughtfully. ‘You’ll understand my caution if I ask for some kind of proof that you really are who and what you say you are.’
‘Of course, Mr Jones, of course! I have a mutual acquaintance on my phone right now, just waiting to speak with you. A familiar voice, whose word I believe you will accept without question.’
Whisper produced a mobile phone from inside his jacket and presented it to me with a flourish. I accepted it dubiously and put it to my ear; the psychic Mr Nemo immediately started talking.
‘You know who this is. The man who helped you remember you didn’t come into this world alone. And no, I haven’t told anyone else that – very definitely including the large and forbidding individual standing before you. He is quite definitely a high-up member of the Organization, though how much you trust him is down to you.’
He rang off without giving me a chance to say anything. And it was only after he’d finished talking that I noticed Whisper’s phone had never been turned on. Nemo had been speaking directly into my head, which actually went some way to reassure me. Not only that it really was Nemo, but that Whisper hadn’t forgotten one of the most basic rules of our profession. Anyone can listen in on a mobile phone these days, and mostly anyone does.
I handed the phone back to Whisper and nodded to Penny.
‘That was Nemo. He vouches for Whisper.’
‘You should have told him I said hi!’
‘He’s psychic,’ I said. ‘He probably already knew.’
I turned my attention back to Whisper.
‘All right,’ I said. ‘You’re the real deal. What do you want?’
‘Given that the Organization is responsible for us being stranded in Bath overnight, perhaps he’s come to pay our hotel bill?’ Penny said sweetly.
‘That has already been taken care of, dear lady,’ said Whisper.
I fixed him with a hard look. ‘How did you know to find us here? I didn’t tell anyone where we were staying.’
Whisper showed me his meaningless smile again. ‘The Organization always knows where you are, Mr Jones. You are, after all, one of our most valuable assets.’
‘I don’t think I like the sound of that,’ I said.
‘How else can we protect you, Mr Jones?’
‘I can look after myself.’
‘Only if you see them coming.’
‘Why are you dressed like that?’ Penny said suddenly. ‘For a secret agent, you’re not exactly blending in.’
‘When I dress this way, people only remember the outfit,’ Whisper said comfortably. ‘This is merely what I look like today. Tomorrow, I will look like someone else. Now, I am here to ask you and your partner to take on a new assignment.’
I glared at him. ‘We are guaranteed proper downtime between missions! I’ve seen too many good agents burn out from trying to take on too much, and I’m not going to let that happen to Penny and me.’
‘Normally, that would, of course, be the proper procedure,’ said Whisper. ‘But this is not a normal case. If I might be permitted to sit down and explain?’
I nodded reluctantly. Whisper pulled a chair over from the next table and sat down opposite Penny and me. Up close, he looked even larger and a great deal more solid. I half expected the chair to collapse under his weight. Whisper folded his white-gloved hands on the table in front of him and fixed me with a steady gaze.
‘Is this another emergency?’ said Penny, before he could even start. ‘We’ve only just finished dealing with the last one. And why does it always have to be us? Doesn’t the Organization have anyone else they can call on?’
‘Of course, dear lady,’ said Whisper. ‘But I do not talk about them, any more than I talk about you.’
‘Well, that’s good to know,’ I said. ‘I’m not committing myself to anything, but … What’s so important about this case?’
‘Indeed, indeed, Mr Jones, let us immerse ourselves in the business at hand, and not use up any more of the time that is fast slipping away.’ Whisper leaned forward conspiratorially. ‘This new assignment is not an official emergency, as such, but your assistance is most urgently required. You are being offered this case simply because you are here. No one else is even close. Please believe me when I say that you should in no way consider yourselves under any pressure or obligation to agree; this particular case should be seen as more of a personal favour. The Organization would like you to investigate a supposedly haunted house, right here in Bath, and determine what is really going on there. The name of this unfortunate residence is Harrow House. Perhaps you’ve heard of it?’
I glanced at Penny, and she shook her head quickly.
‘Should we know it?’ I said.
‘I am told the haunted house on Widows Hill is spoken of most respectfully, among those with an interest in such matters,’ said Whisper.
‘Ghosts aren’t really our territory,’ said Penny.
‘Right,’ I said. ‘We investigate mysteries and security problems. We don’t deal in things that go boo! in the night.’
Whisper nodded solemnly. His dark face remained completely impassive, but I thought I detected a certain embarrassment in his body language.
‘It seems that a certain high-up member of the Organization was planning to buy a house here in Bath. He thought he’d found exactly what he was looking for, but the price turned out to be so low that it aroused his suspicions, and when he questioned the estate agents, they were forced to admit that Harrow House has a long history of being very seriously haunted.’
I had to raise an eyebrow. ‘And this high-up member of the Organization actually believes in things like that?’
Whisper met my gaze unflinchingly. ‘He is often required to believe in stranger things. It comes with the job. Your assignment, should you choose to accept it, is to check out and confirm the true nature of the house before he commits to buying it.’
I was already shaking my head. ‘I’m not the one you need for something like this. I don’t even believe in ghosts.’
‘All the better, Mr Jones!’ Despite Whisper’s apparent enthusiasm, his voice never once rose above the rough murmur that gave him his name. ‘A sceptical mind is exactly what is required here. The gentleman in question wants nothing more than to be reassured that this is all nonsense. Apparently, he feels the need for hard evidence to back this up, from someone he can trust.’
I grinned at Penny. ‘What are the odds it’ll all turn out to be just the caretaker in a scary mask, frightening everyone off so he can concentrate on searching for the hidden treasure?’
‘And he’d have gotten away with it too, if it hadn’t been for us pesky investigators,’ Penny said solemnly.
‘I think we would all be happy to settle for such an outcome,’ said Whisper.
I leaned back in my chair and looked at him thoughtfully. ‘Why hasn’t the Organization reached out to one of the underground groups who specialize in these matters?’
‘Hold it right there! Stop the car and throw on the handbrake,’ said Penny. ‘There really are such groups? That’s a thing – an actual thing?’
‘So I am assured,’ said Whisper.
‘It takes all sorts,’ I said.
‘You should know, Mr Jones,’ said Whisper.
‘But if there are such groups, does that mean ghosts definitely are real?’ said Penny.
‘The answer to that question is most certainly outside my area of expertise,’ Whisper said carefully.
‘And what area would that be?’ I said.
Whisper flashed me another empty smile. ‘I am no more inclined to discuss the secrets of my life than you are concerning your own, Mr Jones. Now, if we could please concentrate on the matter before us … It is vital that this delicate business is sorted out as quickly as possible, before other groups in our line of business discover what’s happening and start spreading the news.’
‘That a high-up member of the Organization is scared he might have spooks in his belfry?’ I said.
‘That he might be in danger of being taken advantage of,’ said Whisper.
I looked at Penny. ‘And that’s why he didn’t reach out to the so-called experts. He can’t afford to be seen as indecisive – or gullible. Perception of strength is everything where security is concerned.’
‘Exactly, Mr Jones!’ said Whisper. ‘You have embraced the essence of the situation in a nutshell.’
‘You still haven’t made it clear why I should agree to get involved in such a dubious case,’ I said.
Whisper paused, choosing his words with great care. ‘I have been instructed to assure you that your accepting this assignment will be regarded as a personal favour, both to the individual himself and to the Organization. In return, they are prepared to grant you a favour. Anything you want, apparently … Within reason, of course.’
I smiled slowly. ‘Your timing couldn’t be better, Mr Whisper. I could use some assistance in tracking down a very hard-to-find individual. This isn’t connected to any current Organization case, but the person concerned is someone with a lot of experience when it comes to hiding from people like us.’
‘I don’t see any problem there,’ said Whisper. ‘I am sure the Organization will be only too happy to place all its resources at your disposal. Once you’ve got to the bottom of whatever it is that’s going on at Harrow House.’
‘And no questions asked?’
‘Of course, Mr Jones, that is both implicit and understood. So, do we have an understanding?’
I turned to Penny. ‘What do you think? Do you feel up to taking on another case so soon after the last one?’
‘Are you kidding?’ said Penny, all but bouncing up and down on her seat. ‘I’ve watched every haunted house movie there is, including the comedies. I’ve always wanted to have a crack at investigating a real one!’
‘All right, then,’ I said. ‘Just for you.’ I nodded to Whisper. ‘We’ll do it.’
‘Splendid!’ said Whisper. ‘I have assembled all the information you will need to get you started.’
He set his briefcase down on the table, opened the lock with a flourish and pulled out a large manila folder. He patted it approvingly with one large white-gloved hand and then pushed the file across the table.
‘This contains full details on Harrow House, including its troubled history and all the extraordinary stories currently associated with it. Please make yourselves familiar with the information as quickly as possible … because the Organization has already arranged for you to spend the night at Harrow House. Starting at eight o’clock this evening.’
I considered the sheer size and weight of the file. ‘How much of this is actually relevant?’
‘That is for you to decide, Mr Jones,’ said Whisper. ‘Now … I’m afraid I do have some bad news to share with you.’
I gave him my best raised eyebrow. ‘Why did I just know you were going to say that?’
‘Years of experience, I should think,’ said Whisper. ‘It will, unfortunately, be necessary for you to work alongside a small group of fellow investigators into the unknown. All of them amateurs, but each and every one a specialist in their own chosen field. The high-up member of the Organization was most insistent that he wanted all the angles covered.’
‘Angles?’ I said suspiciously. ‘What else is there, apart from simple logic and common sense?’
‘Alternative viewpoints,’ Whisper said smoothly. ‘You said it yourself, Mr Jones: this isn’t your area of expertise. Everything you need to know about your new colleagues can be found in the file. Now, you will be required to spend the entire night on the premises, whatever happens – until our people come to pick you up first thing in the morning. At which point, Mr Jones, you and Ms Belcourt will make your determination known directly to me, and only to me.’
‘We only get one night to make up our minds?’ I said.
‘I have been assured that one night is all you will need,’ said Whisper.
Penny clapped her hands delightedly. ‘Oh, this is going to be such fun!’
While I was looking at her, Whisper got to his feet. ‘Allow me to wish both of you the very best of luck. Given some of the more disturbing tales associated with Harrow House, it would seem likely that you’re going to need it. I will meet with you again tomorrow morning. Assuming you survive the night, of course.’
He chuckled richly, inclined his large head to both of us, turned with magisterial grace and strode back out of the dining area. The door closed silently and very firmly behind him.
‘At least we got our hotel bill paid,’ said Penny.
‘I am not happy about having to work with Team Ghost,’ I said. ‘I do not play well with others.’
‘I have noticed that,’ said Penny. ‘And Ishmael … I have to say I’m really not sure that getting the Organization involved in your search for the other crash survivor is such a great idea. I mean, how much can you safely tell them, without putting yourself in danger?’
‘It’s a risk I have to take,’ I said. ‘I need the kind of resources a big organization can throw at the problem. They can cover a lot of ground, and get answers from the kind of people who would never open up to someone like me. And … the Organization was able to find me, originally – at a time when I didn’t think anyone could. Who better, then, to locate someone like me?’
‘But what can you tell them?’
‘I can give them the date the ship crashed and the general area,’ I said. ‘Then ask them to search for weird happenings associated with that, and see where it takes us.’
Penny shook her head. ‘They’re bound to get suspicious about why you want to know.’
‘They’re always suspicious,’ I said. ‘I just hope I’m valuable enough to the Organization that they won’t want to risk scaring me off.’
Penny nodded reluctantly and turned her attention to the file.
‘How do you want to approach this? You’ve always been very emphatic that there are no such things as ghosts. Even though our previous cases have seen us going up against vampires, werewolves and psychics.’
‘That’s different,’ I said.
‘How?’
‘They’re all to do with the living. The science may be a bit extreme, but it’s still part of the real world. Paranormal, as opposed to supernatural. Do you believe in ghosts? I mean, honestly?’
‘I’ve never seen one,’ said Penny. ‘But I’m intrigued by the possibility.’
I shook my head firmly. ‘Once you start accepting the existence of things like ghosts, where do you stop? I’m prepared to accept the phenomenon: that people see things they take for ghosts. Images of people, and places, from the past. But that could be down to stone tape recordings, psychic impressions, timeslips … All of them more than a little unlikely, but a lot easier to believe than that the dead sometimes return to walk among the living. Dead is dead. In fact, given the sheer number of appalling people I have found it necessary to do away with down the years, they’d better stay dead or I could be in serious trouble.’
‘Let’s see what the file has to say,’ Penny said diplomatically.
She moved her chair in beside me, and we worked our way through the pages together.
Harrow House had apparently been the scene of many unpleasant stories, dating all the way back to Victorian times. And yet I couldn’t find any reports of sightings of actual ghosts. No dim figures walking through walls, or staring out of mirrors, or standing at the foot of someone’s bed in the early hours. Nothing that could even pass for poltergeist activity. I said as much to Penny, and she looked at me amusedly.
‘For someone who doesn’t believe in ghosts, you seem to know an awful lot about the subject.’
‘I have read the occasional book,’ I said. ‘Just out of curiosity.’
Penny nodded understandingly and turned back to the file.
‘I’m not seeing any of the background stories you’d expect from any respectable haunted house. No unsolved murders, no strange disappearances, not even a suicide … Ghosts don’t just come from nowhere.’
I leafed through the remaining pages, glancing ahead. ‘Why is everyone so convinced Harrow House is haunted, when no one’s reported seeing anything that could even pass for a restless spirit?’
Penny pulled the file away from me and turned back to where we’d stopped.
‘The one thing everyone describes is an overwhelming sense of dread and horror that affects anyone who stays in the house. Feelings so unbearable that they literally drive people out. That’s why the place has remained empty for so long. Look at this report, from 1927: “The house was full of horror, and a sense of death. I honestly felt that I would die if I stayed. Some terrible voice seemed to be warning me to get out while I still could. There is a spirit inhabiting Harrow House, and it is not human.” No wonder the local community won’t go anywhere near it.’
‘Most of these stories come from local people,’ I said. ‘Usually youngsters, whose curiosity took them too close to the house. Tales of lights blazing in windows, when the house was known to be empty. Strange sounds from inside, which might have been voices, though no one could understand what they were saying. All very spooky, I’m sure, but you don’t need a supernatural presence to explain things like that.’
Penny nodded slowly. ‘The only thing that everyone seems to agree on is the awful way the house makes people feel.’ She sat back in her chair and looked at me. ‘Well, what do you think?’
I did Penny the courtesy of taking her question seriously and gave the matter some thought.
‘If you believe you’re in a bad place, you’re bound to get bad feelings,’ I said finally. ‘All the people who entered or even approached the house did so expecting to be scared. Jumping at every moving shadow or unexpected sound. I think Harrow House is probably nothing more than a really big Rorschach inkblot, where everyone sees what they expect to see, and feels what they’ve been told they’ll feel. Once we get in there, it shouldn’t take us long to prove that nothing out of the ordinary is going on. We won’t be so easily frightened, because we’re used to facing real threats.’
‘Assuming Team Ghost doesn’t get in the way,’ said Penny. ‘They’re bound to have their own ideas as to what’s happening.’
I nodded grimly. ‘Let’s see what the file has to say about these people.’
There were individual reports on all four amateur experts, including a number of clippings from the local press. Someone at the Organization had gone out of their way to do a thorough job.
Lynn Barrett was a celebrity psychic who specialized in cleansing haunted houses. How much she charged for this service wasn’t made clear. I studied the publicity photo provided; she looked every inch the glamorous professional. Apart from the heavy Goth makeup and a definite propensity for the dramatic pose.
‘A psychic,’ said Penny. ‘Like the one we met yesterday?’
‘I very much doubt it,’ I said. ‘Mr Nemo was a member of the British Psychic Weapons Group. Lynn Barrett is just a self-appointed miracle-worker; only one step up from reading tea leaves and telling people they’ve got a lucky face. What does cleansing a house mean, anyway? That could involve anything from feng shui to aromatherapy.’
‘I’m guessing you don’t believe in those, either,’ said Penny.
‘I’d believe in ghosts first,’ I said. ‘At least she doesn’t call herself a medium. They’re never anything more than confidence tricksters, using cold reading techniques to separate the vulnerable from their life savings.’
‘By any chance, did you have a bad experience?’
‘Keep reading,’ I said.
Tom Shaw was an amateur ghost-chaser, who spent all his spare time searching for evidence of life after death using special scientific equipment.
‘You’ve got that look on your face again,’ said Penny. ‘Stop frowning, before you give yourself wrinkles.’
‘Using science to look for ghosts,’ I said, ‘is like using a telescope to look for angels.’
‘There’s quite a lot of clippings about him,’ said Penny, leafing quickly through them. ‘It does look as if he’s tried to help people … And at least he seems to be putting his faith in technology, rather than just holding hands in the dark and asking if there’s anybody there.’
‘What kind of tech does he use?’ I said.
Penny got to the end of the clippings and shook her head. ‘Doesn’t say. Probably motion detectors, instruments to measure changes in room temperature or electromagnetic anomalies.’ She shot me a quick grin. ‘I have also been known to read the occasional book on the subject.’
Tom Shaw didn’t bother with promotional photos, but images from the local press showed a stocky middle-aged man, frowning purposefully as he pointed some unfamiliar device at a likely shadow.
‘I thought you’d approve of someone who put his faith in science,’ said Penny.
‘I don’t think I’d call what he does science,’ I said.
‘Snob,’ said Penny.
Arthur Welles was a reporter for a local newspaper, the Bath Herald. The only photo looked as if it came from his driving licence, and showed a young man with a serious face, scowling at a world that was always going to disappoint him by never being what he wanted it to be. Just starting out in his chosen career, and more than ready to tackle the kind of stories his more experienced colleagues couldn’t be bothered with. According to the file, he’d insisted on being involved in Team Ghost because his family owned Harrow House.
And, finally, there was Winifred Stratton. No press clippings, no photo, just basic biographical data and a list of self-published books she’d written.
‘It says here that she’s a local historian and a white witch,’ said Penny. ‘Two for the price of one. Author of such volumes as The History They Don’t Tell You About, Making Friends With Ghosts and Your Hidden Powers.’
I shook my head slowly. ‘Oh, this can only go well.’