Jason let himself into the house, and smiled as he saw the large note Emily had left on the hall table.
Gone to pay Santa a visit to see what he might have brought for my gorgeous husband! XX
He made himself a large coffee then hurried up to his studio and sat at his desk, then he sent a text to Emily.
Babes, please be back by 4. The Bishop sending his top Ghostbuster over. Love you. XX
He took a sip of his coffee – and recoiled in surprise.
It was stone cold.
How? He’d made it less than five minutes ago, a double from the Nespresso machine, with the frothy hot Barista-style oat milk that Emily was sure was healthier than cows’ milk.
How could it be completely cold? Was there a problem with the machine, along with everything else? But he’d sipped it on the way up the stairs, and it was so hot then it almost furred the tip of his tongue.
Disturbed, he looked all around. The room felt fine, warm. He heard a grinding roar outside and peered out of the window. The construction site was back in full action, the police now departed.
He opened the contacts on his phone and looked up the estate agent. Then he dialled the direct line number.
Paul Jordan answered instantly and breezily.
‘Mr Danes, how good to hear from you, hope you and your lovely wife are enjoying your beautiful home! To what do I owe this pleasure?’
‘Well, we still have a few issues, as I mentioned last time we spoke, but yes, we are loving it. I just wondered – I saw a family moving in to the estate yesterday. If you could give me their names, I thought I might pop round and welcome them.’
‘Yesterday?’ Jordan sounded puzzled. ‘I don’t think so. No one moved in yesterday – not that I know of – and as we’re the sole agents, I would know!’
‘They arrived in a great big classic Cadillac convertible, with a removals lorry just behind them.’
‘I think you must be mistaken, Mr Danes. I’m afraid it doesn’t ring a bell with me. I don’t have anyone due to be moving in this week. There’s a number of completions scheduled for January, and several viewings booked, but I don’t have anyone else moving in before Christmas.’
‘I saw them arriving,’ Jason said.
‘Do you know which house?’
‘I don’t, no.’
Had he imagined them, Jason wondered, suddenly? The Cadillac and the removals lorry?
Impossible. They had looked too real. Why was the estate agent denying it?
He’d seen the driver with a big cigar in his mouth. A flashy-looking man. A pretty lady seated beside him. Two kids jumping up and down in the rear.
No way had he imagined it.
Had he?
‘Ah – OK – I must have been mistaken, they were probably heading somewhere else.’
‘Must have been! If we don’t speak before, I hope you and Mrs Danes have a very happy Christmas.’
‘And you, too.’
Ending the call, he stood up and paced around the room. Am I going mad?
New house?
Is my equilibrium disturbed?
He donned his apron and gloves, picked up a pencil and walked over to his empty easel. He began to sketch the next work for his exhibition. The Skiver.
For the next hour he was lost in his world of creativity that he loved so much. Working from the photographs on his camera, he had the – now deceased – man exactly. Looking shifty, skulking behind a pyramid of rubble, fingers gripping the roll-up, about to light it.
He hesitated. Should he really be painting a man who was now dead?
But the painting had started before that, when it wasn’t a tragic situation. And this wasn’t a portrait of the man, it was a distant snapshot of a moment in time. That thought assuaging his guilt, he went over to his work table and began to assemble his paints and brushes.
As he did so a cheeky voice behind him said, ‘I thought this whole room would be filled with Christmas prezzies for me!’
He turned to Emily. ‘Small is beautiful,’ he replied. ‘A bag of uncut diamonds really doesn’t take up much space.’
She smiled and kissed him. ‘So, we have a Ghostbuster? Tell me?’
He told her about his visit to the Bishop of Lewes, and all Parnassus had said.
‘Jim Skeet?’ she said, when he had finished.
‘Uh-huh.’
‘I’m curious. Wonder what a Ghostbuster looks like!’
‘A tubby, bearded guy, with a sack full of gadgets.’
‘In a red suit, with reindeer parked outside?’ she questioned.