The Case of the Haunted House

I do not believe in ghosts. However, I would not spend a night in an allegedly haunted house on my own. That was the reason Barker and I were sitting in an ill-lit house waiting for the ghosts to appear. I had a camera in case the ghosts were visible. I had a blunt instrument in the form of a monkey wrench in case the spirits turned out to be human after all. And of course I had Barker as back-up. I know he is as soft as rice pudding but a stranger might not know so much.

We have been given some odd cases in my time but this was odder yet.

“My name is Viktor Price,” said the neatly-turned out man in his mid-fifties with a central-European accent. He said it as though it meant something. Perhaps it did to him.

“I have a house in Durrington which I am anxious to sell.”

“We’re not looking to move at the moment, Mr Price.”

He gave a laugh I didn’t like the sound of. It was on the edge of hysteria.

“No no no. I am having difficulty selling it because some stupid superstitious przygłup is going around saying it is haunted.”

Micah wrote something in her notebook and let me see it.

“Viktor Price, Polish.”

I looked briefly at his shoes. Micah scribbled “from Poland” in case there was any confusion.

I only heard the word “przygłup” once more and that was when Mr Price addressed it to me. It politely translates as ‘nitwit’ but I must tell this story in the right order.

The hackles on a dog really do rise when they get spooked. In the dead of night that is what happened to Barker. He moved in close to me and I think he would have liked to get inside my jacket. There was definitely something he did not want to see.

I got up reluctantly and persuaded Barker that we were going on a ghost hunt. Since the only way he could stay with me was if he came along, he came along.

We went from room to room. Each one I came to seemed to be ghost-free. I was gaining in confidence by the time I got to the kitchen. Somehow my confidence drained away when I saw the staring eyes of the corpse on the floor.

I stood in the doorway and restrained Barker. Now he was no longer spooked and wanted to go and examine the corpse. I thought the police might disapprove. I recorded the following for Micah who was away on a hen-do in Manchester.

“The kitchen is large and old-fashioned. There are crystals scattered on the floor which I take to be sugar. There is a sheet on the floor and it is covered in blood. The body is that of a white female in her twenties. Her hair colour is dark and she seems to be of average height. It is difficult to determine anything about her dress as it has been slashed with a knife. None of the cuts to the dress drew blood though. The blood came from one fatal stab wound to the neck.”

I put through a call to the police. They warned me in no uncertain terms not to go anywhere near the crime scene and informed me that a squad car would be with me ‘directly’.

‘Directly’ turned out to mean three-quarters of an hour. The police forensic team got into appropriate gear and went into the house. They came out again very quickly. One sarky sergeant asked me if I would like to point out the corpse.

I showed the way to the kitchen but body was there none. I stared stupidly at the floor.

“Do you often get these hallucinatons?”

It was in vain for me to protest that the body had been there less than an hour before. The police decided I was a deluded unreliable witness. They had a point.

My detailed search of the kitchen revealed nothing except the sugar on the floor. That was still there and in my own mind, it confirmed my story. Nobody else was likely to believe it though.

Somehow the Worthing Herald got hold of the story. Possibly the sarky Sergeant had given it to them. “Private Detective leads police on wild goose chase.” was the headline and the story did not get more complimentary as it went on.

Micah, bless her, believed me. My verbatim account of the scene in the kitchen probably swayed her but she is inclined to trust my word anyway.

“Viktor will definitely have problems selling the house now. He won’t be pleased.

“Przygłup! What with you and your disappearing corpse, the peasants in these parts will believe the place is haunted until Kingdom come. I am half-inclined not to pay you.”

However, he was a refreshingly honest man and handed over the rather large fee he had discussed.

”Something isn’t right,” said Micah.

”You can say that again,” I said.

”No I mean ...” and then she trailed off into silence.

The following week I had a visitor to my office. He gave me his business card. It seemed he was a Mr West from the Psychical Phenomena Investigators plc. I was disappointed that it wasn’t a client because we could have done with one.

Mr West asked me a number of detailed questions about the “phenomenon” at the haunted house. I suggested that it wasn’t a phenomenon but a murder. Somewhat to my surprise, he agreed.

“But the murder didn’t take place.”

There was a silence.

“In 1924 the house was owned by the Black family. Anthony Black was an up-and-coming businessman and the family employed a number of servants. In the kitchen which you visited there would have been a cook, Elsie Blunt. Her description matched the body which you saw. There was also a scullery maid called Jane Turner.”

“According to Jane, Elsie Blunt came up behind her when she was washing cutlery. She started tickling her. Jane Turner was one of those people who cannot abide being tickled. It was a severe physical pain to her. She turned around and tried to fend Elsie off with her hand. Unfortunately for Elsie, her hand had a knife in it.”

“The jury in the case heard medical testimony. It was one of the first cases in which a member of the working classes had been able to call a psychological expert. The consequence was that the jury found her not guilty. The judge was thunderstruck as you can imagine and made a closing remark that Jane’s husband had best avoid tickling her. She never married. She died in 1968.”

“What about the injuries to the body?”

“Jane claimed that she didn’t know what she was doing. The jury noted that all the violence was directed to Elsie’s clothes rather than to a living body. The prosecution unsuccessfully tried to prove that therefore Jane murdered Elsie but the defence dismissed that as a non-sequitur.”

“So there was no murder?”

“Exactly, Mr McLairy.”

Mr West stayed for a cup of tea and a chat about Psychical Phenomena. He seemed a nice chap.

That was not my opinion on the following Thursday. I was in the John Selden with Micah perusing the Worthing Herald. It had the story, “The Detective who Sees Ghosts.” I visualised the remains of my reputation going up in flames.

I very quietly folded the newspaper and returned to my Cabernet Sauvignon.

“Something is not right,” Micah said.

“Tell me some good news.”

“I am not sure it is good or bad but there are two things you should know. The first is that the house is not on the market.”

“I can understand Mr Price taking it off after all this.”

“Except that it was never on the market in the first place. It was his late uncle’s house and Mr Price undertook to sell it and distribute the proceeds to the other beneficiaries. Of course, if he can’t sell it then he doesn’t have to distribute anything to anybody.”

“You said there were two things.”

“I think you should have investigated Psychical Phenomena Investigations plc more closely.”

“Or indeed at all.”

“Yes. The company is registered by law of course. It has only existed for a year and the main shareholder is a Mr Viktor Price.”

She couldn't resist adding, "I think you've been mis-sold PPI."

It was intriguing. We were suddenly very interested in Mr Viktor Price.

“You think he is responsible for trashing your reputation?” Micah asked.

“Don’t you?” I replied.

“It looks that way. We still need to know two things. The how and the why. First we should find out as much as possible about the ‘who’. Give me an hour and I will know more about Viktor than Viktor knows.”

That may sound like an idle boast but I know Micah. It was, if anything, a modest underestimate.

An hour later, she repaid my confidence.

“He was one of three children. The parents stayed in Poland with the eldest daughter who now looks after them. Viktor is the second eldest and his younger sister Sylwia changed the spelling of her name to Sylvia but not the pronunciation. She is in Manchester. It is a long shot and a long drive but there are no photos of her online which is suspicious in itself these days.”

“There is one other reason why Sylvia might be worth having a little chat with.”

Micah paused but I am an old hand at this. She was bound to say more and she did.

“She is a member of the Casualties Union. They provide acting and reacting casualties and patients for the medical profession, the emergency services, and those who teach first aid, nursing and rescue. Their make-up skills are second to none. Interested?”

I was. We shared the drive to Manchester. It was grey and pouring with rain when we arrived.

I was forced to adjourn to one bar while Micah arranged to meet Sylvia in another. We caught up later.

Micah played back the relevant parts of the conversation.

“I don’t think Viktor ever mentioned you, er Micah isn’t it?”

“Yes, we had a business relationship.”

“Oh ah. Yes, well. Any friend of Viktor’s is welcome to buy me a drink,” she laughed. The laugh rang a bit hollow.

“Look, for a laugh, why don’t we send him a selfie of just the two of us.”

Sylvie didn’t have a chance to reject this proposal because by then Micah had already taken it.

“I suppose you know all about Maria,” said Sylvia.

Matching her tone and not letting on she didn’t know Maria from Madonna, Micah sympathised, “Yes it was a shame.”

“It was awful for Viktor for the two of them to break up. It was a whole month before he summoned up the courage to tell our parents about the divorce. She went back to Poland but never got in touch with the family. We weren’t close, she was always a bit ‘standing-off’ I think is the expression. I wasn’t surprised that I heard nothing from her. Neither did poor old Vic.”

“How about another drink?”

Then Micah showed me the selfie. She was watching my face.

“Jesus wept!”

“So I understand. It’s her isn’t it.”

“The late fictional Elsie Blunt, the tickling cook. You weren’t kidding about the make-up skills. What a performance. Shall I tag along next time?”

“Of course. I didn’t want you there this time because it would have given the game away to Sylvia.

Sylvia Price lost her smile when she saw me. She made a half-hearted attempt to run away but Micah took her arm in an apparently friendly gesture. Micah’s friendly gestures are sometimes backed with deceptively strong muscles. Sylvia collapsed back into her seat and eyed me apprehensively.

“Have we met before?” I asked.

“It was just a joke.”

“Does Viktor often play jokes?”

“Well no. He said you were someone who didn’t believe in ghosts.

“What was the sugar all over the floor about?”

“I didn’t want anybody creeping up on me. The sugar would have warned me of anyone who was coming.”

“What do you know about Maria?”

“She was familiar with that house. She was very friendly with Uncle Drac, as called him, his real name was Włodzimierz, like Vlad the Impaler. Vic really didn’t like Maria’s friendship with Uncle Drac. They were really very friendly if you know what I mean.”

On our way back to Durrington Micah updated Inspector Ben Tillotson.

Ben was able to tell us that Włodzimierz Price’s death had been attributed to natural causes. It came as no surprise to either of us that Doctor Winter had made that diagnosis. I honestly believe if a corpse were riddled with bullets he would have it down as a case of lead poisoning.

Our priority would be to find Maria.

“Thank you for calling Durrington Detective Agency. Calls may be recorded for staff training purposes.”

“What staff? You haven’t got any staff.”

“And if and when we get them, we will need to train them. Now, what can I do for you, Mr Price?”

“Call me Viktor.”

“Certainly. Apart from calling you Viktor, what can I do for you?”

“I would like to have a conversation with you but I would prefer to do it in the street. Shall we say outside your office in twenty minutes?”

“Certainly.”

Mr Price’s Rover drew up to the kerb precisely twenty minutes later. He looked up the road. He looked down the road. He looked across the way to make sure nobody could hear us. This was a waste of his time because I had taken up Micah’s habit of having my phone on ‘record’ in my pocket.

“Mr McLairy, I think you have been down to Manchester to see my sister.” He essayed a smile. It was not a success.

“Yes.”

“Now look, about that. I apologise for my little joke but I would like to compensate you for your trouble and the trip to Manchester with a little extra for hurt feelings.”

“Mmm,” I said non-committally.

“I was thinking of a thou.. shall we say two thousand...”

“Mmm”

“For each of you. Would that be acceptable?”

“I will give you a receipt.”

“No need for that but I must explain. My sister, she is, how shall I say, in a delicate state of mind a lot of the time and she gets these obsessions, these wasps in her bonnet and so forth. One of the biggest wasps is my former wife, Maria.”

“I thought you weren’t married.”

“Quite, you understand. We are both men of the world. Maria was free to come and go as she chose. She chose to go. I don’t know why. I think she went back to the old country but even there I cannot be sure. I trust we understand each other.”

And here his tone changed.

“You will not investigate this matter any further, Mr McLairy. You have wasted too much time already I’m sure and the good book says that the time is money is it not? So leave it out, my friend.”

I have never been called ‘my friend’ in quite such a threatening manner before.

The four thousand pounds duly arrived. I was able to claim gift aid when I gave it to Micah’s favoured charity which meant we had a record that every penny we got from Viktor had gone to a good cause.

I replayed the conversation to Micah and she forwarded the information to Inspector Ben Tillotson that evening.

“Thank you for calling Durrington Detective Agency. Calls may be recorded for staff training purposes.”

“Come off it, you don’t have any staff.”

“Hello, Ben. Have you any good news for me?”

“Well I have heard all about the bribe you took from Mr Price. Micah says it is all going to a good cause and I’m sure it is.”

If it were possible to wink over an audio phone I am sure old Ben would have done so.

“We ransacked your haunted house. Mr Price wasn’t at all pleased but we said we were looking for ectoplasm. We found nothing.”

There was a pause…..

“...except a letter from Maria to her uncle-in-law. I wouldn’t dream of reading out any of the contents over the telephone it would contravene the Wireless Telegraphy Act. It confirms Sylvia’s assertion that they were very close indeed. It was at the back of a drawer and Viktor had obviously overlooked it.”

“The other thing was that one of our WPCs noticed that the concrete floor in the basement was new and according to her it had been done all wrong. It is no crime to lay a basement floor ‘all wrong’ but we thought it prudent to have a closer look. The x-ray showed us the skeleton of a young woman about a foot below the surface.”

“It was a long job to get the body out intact but there can be no doubt that this was the body of Maria Price. Together with your evidence of the measures our Vik took to conceal the body it should be enough to get a conviction.”

“Then and only then your reputation can be restored. Until then...”

And he thought it hilariously funny to play the Ghostbusters’ theme for my benefit.