Chapter 61
Nigel Flowers’s long, thin beard made him look like a goat.
Every time Poe was forced into a social interaction with him, the desire to stick a carrot in his mouth was overwhelming.
Poe thought he was a harmless idiot. That he’d soon pack up and leave.
Cumbria was a practical county; it wasn’t big on spiritualism.
In the six months they’d been in Cowie House, Poe had never seen Flowers with a client.
He thought he’d be better off in London or Brighton.
One of those cities that thought having a ‘thriving arts scene’ was something to brag about.
When they’d moved into Cowie House, Poe had advised Bradshaw to ignore Flowers.
Had immediately recognised that they’d rub each other up the wrong way.
He’d meant that she shouldn’t allow him to get under her skin.
That people were allowed to believe in whatever whack-a-doodle things they wanted to.
Instead, she’d taken it literally. Each time Flowers tried to engage her in conversation, she blanked him like he wasn’t there. Walked straight past him.
Flowers hadn’t liked that. Hadn’t liked that one bit. It was as if he thought that as well as having a right to speak – which he did – he also had the right to be heard. That someone would dare breeze past him mid-sentence offended him more than Arthur Conan Doyle had offended Harry Houdini.
He’d brought it up with Poe once.
‘I want to complain to Miss Bradshaw’s superior,’ he’d said.
Poe had been tucking into a Cranstons pork and apple pie. Brown sauce on the side. He looked around. Nope, he was the only one there. Nigel had been talking to him. ‘What’s she done this time?’
‘I wanted to show her a new study supporting palmistry. Miss Bradshaw can no longer ignore it; the scientific evidence is empirical.’
‘OK.’
‘OK what?’
‘Go for it. Complain to her superior,’ Poe had said. He’d gone back to his newspaper and his pie. When he glanced up, Flowers was still there. ‘Was there something else?’
‘Who is her superior?’ Flowers had asked. ‘Is it you?’
‘In the very literal sense, it’s possible no one in the world is her superior. But in the gumshoe business sense, Tilly’s the managing director, company secretary and majority shareholder all rolled into one. In other words, she wears command gold, not me.’
‘I don’t know what “command gold” means.’
‘I don’t either. I think it has something to do with Harry Potter.’ Poe had picked up his pie. Dipped it in the brown sauce. ‘You could complain to her, I suppose.’ He’d taken a bite. ‘But she’ll only ignore you.’
Flowers had stomped out, muttering threats about taking it up with Monica Costelloe, and Poe had finished his pie in peace.
In the present, Poe said to Flowers, ‘Tell me again.’
‘We have a ghost. It’s in the loft. I heard it twice yesterday and once this afternoon.’
‘A ghost?’
‘Who you gonna call?’ Esmerée said, laughing.
‘I don’t know,’ Poe replied.
Bradshaw looked at Esmerée. Rolled her eyes.
‘Not Nigel Flowers, though,’ Poe continued. ‘Not if he’s gonna cry every time he gets a whiff of the paranormal.’
‘This isn’t funny,’ Flowers said.
‘On that we agree, mate. I could have been home by now.’
‘I think you should go up and have a look.’
Poe glared at Bradshaw. ‘I can’t believe you made me come back for this.’
‘I heard it too, Poe,’ she said softly.
‘You? Miss Science-is-king thinks there’s a ghost in the loft?’
‘Of course not. The evidence about death is conclusive. There is no afterlife. We cease to exist. The time after we die is the same as the time before we were born. It doesn’t involve us.
But I did hear something, Poe. I would have gone up to look myself, but I don’t have the upper-body strength to climb through the hatch. ’
‘Obviously I was going to climb up, but I thought it prudent to wait for backup,’ Flowers added.
Poe looked at Flowers. He had biceps like a sparrow’s knee. ‘Obviously,’ he said. He glanced at the three of them. Esmerée, Bradshaw and Flowers looked back. He sighed and said, ‘Get me the stepladder.’
Esmerée and Bradshaw went off to fetch it from the cleaning cupboard.
The ceilings in Cowie House were so high, Monica’s caretaker had to use a stepladder when he replaced popped light bulbs.
Flowers said he would go and get his electromagnetic field detector, whatever the hell that was.
Poe was thankful Bradshaw wasn’t around to hear that. It might have finished her off.
Esmerée and Bradshaw returned with the ladder.
Flowers came back holding something that resembled an electrician’s voltmeter. He turned it on, pointed a sensor into the air and said, ‘I’m ready.’
‘Jolly good,’ Poe said. He opened the ladder and positioned it underneath the loft hatch. ‘Foot this for me, Nigel.’
Nigel looked at him blankly.
‘Tilly, can you please show Nigel how to foot a ladder.’
Bradshaw looked at him blankly.
‘Esmerée, can you please show Tilly how to show Nigel how to foot a ladder.’
‘I’ll do it, Poe,’ Esmerée said. Poe climbed the first three steps. Esmerée put her feet against the side rails to secure the base. ‘And you’d better not blast chop suey farts in my face.’
Poe smiled. He reached the ceiling and pushed up the loft hatch.
Swiped it to the side. He climbed a few more steps until his torso was in the loft.
He fumbled for his phone and found the torch function.
In the dark loft, it was like a World War II searchlight.
He scanned the area above Flowers’s office.
Nothing. He turned and did the same for the area of loft above their own office.
‘Ah,’ he said.