Free 05 - Mistletoe and Murder by Evelyn James Page A

the stairs several times and the bell remained
silent. The only time I caused it to ring was when I actually plucked the wire
it is connected to. Now I heard that bell ring in the night and Elijah says the
same, of course he could be lying or mistaken, perhaps he tripped the bell
himself. But why would he be out in the hallway in the middle of the night?”
    “So something could have been
abroad last night?”
    “Or someone.” Clara pulled up
a chair next to her brother and sat down, “Unfortunately Miss Sampford is in a
position where at least two people find her continued existence troublesome.
She masks it well, but she is very scared. If someone is trying to frighten her
to death they are doing a jolly good job.”
    “People play some nasty
games.”
    “Don’t they just. Look I am
going to pay a few calls before Miss Sampford’s relatives arrive, and Andrews
has some extra ghost hunters turning up to help him conduct an all-night vigil.
Do you want anything before I go?”
    “No, only a damn end to this
cold.”
    “Never mind, it will be better
soon.” Clara stood and kissed him on the forehead, “See if you can keep Oliver
out of trouble, will you? He has become rather taken with this ghost hunting
lark and is following Andrews everywhere.”
    “If he happens to appear on
the ground floor, I’ll nab him.” Tommy promised.
    Clara headed out into the
Square. The morning was brisk, a hint of snow in the sky. Everyone was wrapped
up as tightly as they could be in coats, hats and gloves. Clara settled a scarf
about her neck and headed towards number 49. She knocked on the door and waited
to see if anyone was in. There was silence.
    “Right Mr Mollinson, where am
I likely to find you?”
    Luckily Mollinson had left his
business card with Miss Sampford on each occasion he visited and Clara had
taken care to collect one of these cards before leaving the house. She read off
his office address then went to find the nearest tube station.
    Clara had travelled via
London’s great underground network of trains only once before. The great
labyrinth of tunnels, all tiled in white and with the smooth gliding carriages
running on electric rails, filled her with a sense of awe. It seemed remarkable
that anyone could create such a magnificent subterranean world and, to think,
some parts of the system were nearly sixty years old already. On her first
visit she had been around twelve and it was part of a school outing to see a
pantomime at Christmas. The girls had been allowed to buy their own tickets,
which seemed at the time extremely grown-up. Going on the trains, however, had
been quite daunting for some of them and one girl became overcome with
claustrophobia. Not even the headmistress’ usually infallible smelling salts
could bring her out of it. For Clara the journey had been an exciting
adventure, something which the pantomime, their ultimate destination, could
hardly compete with. Clara felt a thrill of elation as the train shot down the
tunnels, electric lights on the walls bursting in and out of her vision. She
felt like a mole burying underground and it was with a strange pang of
giddiness that she wondered at how fast they were going and whether the train
could brake quickly enough in an emergency, say like a cave-in of the roof. On
reflection, Clara’s musings in this direction (unfortunately voiced out-loud)
had probably not helped the claustrophobic girl’s panic.
    Over a decade on, Clara bought
her ticket without thinking and boarded a carriage with a sense of purpose
rather than excitement. She took a seat among businessmen, office girls and
casual shoppers, wondering if her old school still ran trips to the pantomime
at Christmas.  The carriage was cold, not something Clara had remembered, and
the passengers were all engaged in their own activities, mostly reading
newspapers or looking out the windows. No one seemed inclined to speak and
Clara found herself regretting she had not picked up a newspaper