Cherringham - Episode 37-39 E-Book

Matthew Costello

• Herausgeber: Bastei Entertainment
• Kategorie: Krimi
• Serie: Cherringham: Crime Series Compilations
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 460

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2022

Beschreibung

Jack's a retired ex-cop from New York, seeking the simple life in Cherringham. Sarah's a Web designer who's moved back to the village find herself. But their lives are anything but quiet as the two team up to solve Cherringham's criminal mysteries.

This compilation contains episodes 37 - 39.

KILLING TIME

Urban Explorers love the excitement of 'exploring' long-abandoned buildings, searching for mysteries in the dark, empty places. But when one such explorer takes a solo tour of a decaying mansion near Cherringham, he discovers that some houses can turn fatal.

STILL DEAD

When the Veteran Head of Botanicals at the world-famous Cherringham Gin Company is suddenly found dead at the Distillery, it seems at first a strange accident must have taken place. But some family members aren’t convinced, and Jack and Sarah are asked to investigate by old friend.

KILLER TRACK

Every year Lady Repton opens up her grand estate to host 'Cherringfest' - the Cotswold's favourite music festival. But what should be a summer weekend of fantastic music, food and fun for all, turns frightening when murder is threatened...

Co-authors Neil Richards (based in the UK) and Matthew Costello (based in the US), have been writing together since the mid-90s, creating innovative content and working on major projects for the BBC, Disney Channel, Sony, ABC, Eidos, and Nintendo to name but a few. Their transatlantic collaboration has underpinned scores of TV drama scripts, computer games, radio shows, and the best-selling mystery series Cherringham. Their latest series project is called Mydworth Mysteries.

Leseprobe

Contents

Cover

Cherringham — A Cosy Crime Series

The authors

Main Characters

Title

Copyright

Killing Time

Still Dead

Killer Track

Cherringham — A Cosy Crime Series

“Cherringham — A Cosy Crime Series” is a series made up of self-contained stories. The series is published in English, German and Finnish.

The authors

Matthew Costello (US-based) is the author of a number of successful novels, including Vacation (2011), Home (2014) and Beneath Still Waters (1989), which was adapted by Lionsgate as a major motion picture. He has written for The Disney Channel, BBC, SyFy and has also designed dozens of bestselling games including the critically acclaimed The 7th Guest, Doom 3, Rage and Pirates of the Caribbean.

Neil Richards has worked as a producer and writer in TV and film, creating scripts for BBC, Disney, and Channel 4, and earning numerous Bafta nominations along the way. He's also written script and story for over 20 video games including The Da Vinci Code and Starship Titanic, co-written with Douglas Adams, and consults around the world on digital storytelling.

Their transatlantic collaboration has underpinned scores of TV drama scripts, computer games, radio shows, and the best-selling mystery series Cherringham. Their latest series project is called Mydworth Mysteries.

Main Characters

Jack Brennan is a former NYPD homicide detective. Being retired, all he wants is peace and quiet. Which is what he hopes to find in the quiet town of Cherringham, UK. Living on a canal boat, he enjoys his solitude. But soon enough he discovers that something is missing — the challenge of solving crimes. Surprisingly, Cherringham can help him with that.

Sarah Edwards is a web designer who was living in London with her husband and two kids. A few years ago, he ran off with his sexy American boss, and Sarah’s world fell apart. With her children she moved back to her home town, laid-back Cherringham. But the small-town atmosphere is killing her all over again — nothing ever happens. At least, that’s what she thinks until Jack enters her life and changes it for good or worse …

Matthew CostelloNeil Richards

CHERRINGHAM

A COSY CRIME SERIESCOMPILATION

Episode 37—39

Digital original edition

Copyright © 2022 by Bastei Lübbe AG, Schanzenstraße 6-20, 51063 Cologne, Germany

Written by Matthew Costello and Neil Richards

Edited by: Eleanor Abraham

Project management: Kathrin Kummer

Cover design: Jeannine Schmelzer

Cover illustration: © Ihnatovich Maryia/shutetrstock; © Jim Spaulding/shutterstock; © Claire McAdams/shutterstock; © camphoto78/shutterstock

eBook production: Jilzov Digital Publishing, Düsseldorf

ISBN 978-3-7517-2558-3

Matthew CostelloNeil Richards

CHERRINGHAM

A COSY CRIME SERIES

Killing Time

1. Urbex

Megan Dunn dropped down a gear in the little Citroen C1, hoping it wouldn’t get stuck on this muddy, potholed track.

Bad enough the bushes on either side were scraping the paintwork.

“You sure this is the way?” she said, glancing over to Luke, who sat in the passenger seat, holding the door handle tight as the vehicle bounced and lurched.

“Think so,” he said. “I mean, the GPS map could be out of date. But — I dunno — sorta smells right.”

Megan laughed. “Long as you chip in for the car repairs. Mum’ll kill me if I get scratches on it.”

She peered through the windscreen. They’d been driving for minutes through dark woods.

And here, the trees that lined the lane had been allowed to grow into each other, intertwined to make a dark, foreboding tunnel. She wanted to turn the lights on.

But she knew that would be too risky. The urban explorers’ online forum had made it clear that Blackwood House was a real no-go, with 24/7 security, as well as razor wire and who knew what else to discourage visitors.

Visitors, that is, who thought nothing of breaking into abandoned houses, filming what they found, and posting it all on blogs or YouTube.

Even out here, miles from Cherringham, in a fold of hills and woods, a place like Blackwood was vulnerable to “urbexers” as they liked to call themselves.

But though Megan and Luke thought of themselves as “urban explorers”, today wasn’t about page stats, views, or posting videos.

No, this was more serious.

This was about finding Zach.

Brilliant, amazing, cool, wonderful Zach.

Zach, who was the smartest explorer Megan had ever met. A legend, famous for his awesome posts around the world: from military bunkers in Estonia to abandoned hospitals in the Philippines; from Russian dachas to Scottish castles.

Zach, who was a law unto himself — here one minute, then somehow posting from a forgotten Pacific island the next.

Zach, who Megan loved with every single beat of her heart.

Zach, who had disappeared from the village a week ago, without telling a soul.

In itself, no big deal. Hey, that was the way Zach rolled. Over the year they’d been hanging together, Megan had just about learned to get used to it.

But this was different. This time — for the first time ever — Zach had disappeared online too. No Instagram, no Facebook, no Twitter, no blog. Not even a mail.

Totally offline.

The police hadn’t been that interested when she’d tried to report him missing. Not with his track record.

And she could understand that.

But Luke and the other guys felt the same as she did. Something was wrong.

Which was why she and Luke were both here now.

Because Luke had remembered the stoned conversation, he’d had with Zach weeks back about Blackwood House, and how it sat right on their doorstep and, because the locals said it was haunted, wasn’t that the coolest reason ever to take a night-time tour?

“What time is it?” she said, as she jolted the car round another tight bend, with still no sign that the lane was reaching anywhere soon.

“Um, ten to five.”

“And you’re sure security clocks off at five?” she said.

“That’s what Zach said. I think.”

Megan hunched a bit more over the wheel, concentrating hard.

“Yeah. Kind of thing Zach gets right,” she said.

“Usually,” said Luke.

“Always,” said Megan, as they rounded another corner. “Look. There it is.”

Ahead she could see a five-bar gate — and beyond it, across an overgrown meadow, the dark shape of a large building, surrounded on the other three sides by woods.

The place somehow … ominous. And so dark, like it was sucking the light out of the evening sky. Her heart seemed to skip a beat.

“Blackwood House?” said Luke.

“Gotta be,” said Megan.

And she stopped the car and turned the engine off. Without saying a word, she climbed out and stood there, listening.

Silence. Just the rustle of wind in the tall trees all around. In the distance, she heard a pheasant squawk.

Up above, through gaps in the swaying branches, she saw scudding clouds, casting looming shadows in the late afternoon sun.

Out there in the field it might be still warm, but here in the woods, with the sun barely penetrating, the air already felt dank and cold.

Had Zach stood here too, a week ago, alone, ready to cross that meadow and enter Blackwood House?

She shivered. “Come on,” she said.

Crouching, with Luke behind her, she made her way down the muddy lane to the gate.

From here, staying low, she could see the layout of the house more clearly.

It looked much older than most of the manor houses around Cherringham; all gables and attic windows, stone parapets, ivy on red brickwork. At first sight, impressive, imposing.

But as she looked closer, she noticed slates missing on the roof; windows cracked; ivy out of control, pulling gutters loose; the garden unkempt, flowers going to seed.

The house empty. Abandoned.

Beside her, she heard Luke give a low whistle.

“Whoa. Must be twenty or more bedrooms,” he said. “And look — is that a pool?”

Megan shifted position to see better through the various garages and outbuildings — glimpsed mildewed tiles, a broken chrome ladder, brown water and leaves.

“Once upon a time …” She looked around. “Okay. No sign of security.”

Then she heard the sound of a car starting up, from somewhere near the house — and after a few seconds saw a big four-by-four with a rack of lights over the cab, nose away from the buildings and edge onto the meadow.

“Damn,” said Luke, ducking down. “Security. If he comes this way, we’ve had it.”

Megan crouched low with Luke at the edge of the gate, hidden by the end of a drystone wall.

She watched as the vehicle sped across the meadow towards them, then stopped just yards away, the engine still running.

Through a gap in the wall she saw the driver step out. Mostly a silhouette. But still she could see a big guy, boots, jeans, T-shirt, army haircut.

He walked towards the gate. Megan pressed herself tight against the stone, praying he wouldn’t peer over, or climb the wall.

She flicked a look at Luke, pressed tight into the hedge the other side of the lane.

What’s this guy waiting for? she thought. Maybe he can see the car?

But then she heard him step back to the four-by-four, climb in and slam the door. With a big rev of the engine, the car spun round and shot off down the hill.

“Wow,” said Luke. A small relieved laugh. “I thought we’d had it.”

She watched Luke stand, and then she too stood up, seeing the four-by-four heading towards what must be the main road, half a mile away. But then it turned and disappeared through a gap in the hedge into the next field.

She could just see a caravan parked in a copse of trees. Maybe that was where he was heading?

“You think he lives in that caravan?” said Luke. “What if he comes back?”

Megan turned to him.

“What can he do to us?” she said, trying to sound confident. “Tell us to leave?”

“Guys like him. Sometimes … they don’t have rules.”

Megan shook her head. “We’ve come this far. If Zach is in there somewhere—”

“If—”

“If he is, then I’d never forgive myself for turning away now. And he wouldn’t forgive me either.”

She looked at Luke — and she could see in his eyes how scared he was. Not that she wasn’t scared too.

But all her feelings were focussed on finding Zach, and anyway, hadn’t he said to her once that there was no such thing as fear?

Fear is just a state of mind, and your mind is the one thing you can control, he’d said. She’d never forgotten those words.

She turned to Luke.

“Let’s go get the gear.”

“We going in?” he said.

“Isn’t that why we came?” said Megan.

And she smiled, to encourage him.

But inside, in spite of remembering Zach’s words, and his big grin as he said them, Megan was scared.

So scared of what they might find inside the abandoned manor house.

2. Blackwood House

Megan stepped through the shattered window frame, her gloved hands avoiding the shards of glass, flicked on her rotolight, and took in the room.

It was some kind of kitchen storeroom — tall racks of metal shelves, many still loaded with dusty boxes and cans, crates of bottles.

She turned on her headcam and gave the room a steady pan, finally picking up Luke who had climbed through the window behind her.

“God. Stuff looks like it’s never been touched,” she said, nodding towards the shelves.

“Guess people take the security signs seriously,” said Luke, switching on his helmet light and his torch too, then sweeping them round the room, the stark white beams throwing daggers of shadows onto the ceiling.

“Keep Out, Attack Dogs on Guard, Danger of Death? How many times have we just ignored signs like that?”

“Got a feeling … maybe here they mean it,” said Luke.

Megan smiled at him again.

Luke had been with them for a year doing this stuff, but he was still the worrier. The anxious one.

Made her wonder why he did it?

But she knew why: the team feeling, the shared danger, the laughs afterwards.

It was a drug for all of them — Tom, Ella, Luke … and Zach.

Their motto, the same as urbexers everywhere: take nothing but photos, leave nothing but footprints.

“Come on,” she said, heading over to a door and opening it. They stepped into a massive kitchen: all dusty steel surfaces and similarly coated racks of pots and pans, lines of burners and ovens.

This kitchen itself — creepy.

“Wow,” said Luke, running his hands through a long line of hanging spoons and strainers. “This is a real chef’s kitchen. Or at least used to be. Now look at it. Who lived here?”

“Whoever they were,” said Megan, “they were loaded.”

“Looks like they left in a hurry too,” said Luke, aiming his lights at a table in one corner.

Megan could see it had the remains of a meal — half a dozen plates, abandoned food in shrivelled, mouldy lumps scattered everywhere, knives and forks askew as if everyone had just upped and run.

“This. The staff kitchen,” she said. “And looks almost as if … something scared them. They left and never came back.”

“But what?” said Luke, his light spinning round and the reflection in the window blinding Megan for a second.

“Not sure I want to know,” said Megan.

And she noted whatever chill she felt before, it was now far chillier in here.

And not just due to the temperature.

She heard a sound in a corner and spun round, pointed her own light. She could see water running down one wall, and the ceiling bowed as if there’d been a flood.

“Uh-oh,” she said. “Better watch out. Looks like pipes have burst upstairs — or gutters broken. Floors will be rotten.”

She turned back and the two of them walked through the kitchen and into a corridor that led in both directions.

“Which way?” said Luke.

“Anyone’s guess,” said Megan. “But Zach, well, he was always logical. So, let’s be logical. First we check every room on this floor. Then we go up to the next and do the same.”

“You’re right,” he said. “That way, if Zach was here …”

“If Zach was here …” said Megan, trying so hard to be positive, hoping they’d just turn a corner, find Zach maybe injured, but grinning up at them, winking at her: “knew you’d come save me, Megs …”

She saw Luke nod — and she nodded back at him. Glad he was here with her.

Together they headed deeper into the house.

*

Megan had urbexed lots of places. Houses. Churches. Office blocks. Factories. Abandoned bunkers.

But this house? Easily the weirdest so far. The inside was nothing like she’d expected.

Massive white leather sofas. Thick carpets. Mega TVs on the walls. Amazing sound systems that — she guessed — all linked together.

But everything now filthy, dusty, stained. And some of the sofas, split open, almost as if they’d been attacked.

God knows what kind of vermin now inhabited the place.

She and Luke glided through the downstairs rooms across marble floors, past sunken bathrooms, a cinema room, snooker room, even more TV rooms.

“Who lived here?” she said.

“Don’t think anyone knows,” said Luke. “Maybe a celeb?”

“Reality TV star?” said Megan, opening an empty drawer then sliding it back. “Tell you what’s weird, though.”

“Yeah?”

“Look around. No photos, nothing personal anywhere. You spotted that?”

“Yeah, you’re right,” said Luke. “Maybe the ghosts took it all.”

His little joke fizzled out before he’d even finished making it.

One thing this place wasn’t was funny.

Megan moved on, in the lead, silently from room to room, opening doors, checking, moving on, the ground floor a maze of corridors.

All the doors left open — apart from one at the very end of a corridor.

Megan got to it. Tried it. Didn’t budge. She looked carefully around the frame, tapped the door itself.

Locked? But there was no key hole.

“Not wood,” she said. “Feels like steel.”

Luke joined her. “No lock on this side.”

“So — locked from the other side?”

She pressed her ear to the door, trying to hear if there was any movement on the other side, then stepped back.

Nothing.

“Okay. When we’re done, we’ll check outside. Maybe there’s a door, a window.”

She turned and then they walked back up the corridor, took another turning, finally reaching a pair of double doors. As Megan tracked her light around she saw they were in some kind of central hallway with a double staircase curving up to the next floor.

A grandfather clock stood between the two staircases; its great brass pendulum hanging still, lifeless.

“I don’t think there are ghosts in this place,” she said. “Because, well, no such thing as ghosts. But, you know, it does feel—”

“Scary?”

“Yeah. Human scary. Like bad things have happened here.”

She turned to Luke, her head lamp lighting his face — and she could see that he felt the same.

So silent for a moment.

From upstairs — a loud crash as if something had fallen.

“What the hell was that?” she said.

“Megan,” said Luke. “I don’t like this.”

“Me neither,” she said, her pulse racing. “But, look. We’re here. We gotta do it.”

“Okay, okay.”

She reached out, put her hand on his arm. She saw him force a smile.

“Come on,” she said. “Keep your lights up, if there’s anyone else in here, maybe we’ll scare them off.”

And slowly, carefully, Megan still in front, they crept up the wide, carpeted staircase.

*

Megan reached the top of the stairs, and peeked round to see down a long corridor.

On one side — gloomy windows with heavy stone frames. On the other, a series of doors. Bedroom doors, she guessed.

And at the far end of the corridor — one single door. From behind which, she now could hear a noise. A kind of …

Scratching sound.

Rhythmic. Grating. Unpleasant. Like nails on a chalkboard.

Yeah, maybe we should just … leave, she thought

“Megan, man — I can’t do this,” whispered Luke behind her. She turned to him, pressed her finger against her lips.

Last thing I need now is Luke wimping out on me, she thought.

“Just stick with me, okay?” she said, with as much confidence as she could.

Though she felt anything but confident.

She headed slowly down the corridor, flicking her light from side to side.

Up here she could see real evidence of the house being abandoned. A couple of the windows had been smashed — maybe kids throwing stones from the woods. Shattered glass lay on the carpet.

Great chunks of ceiling littered the corridor — probably from leaks in the roof — and wallpaper peeled off in great mournful handfuls.

The floor buckled and groaned as they stepped over the wreckage.

“Watch out,” she said. “This floor feels rotten. It could give way. Stay on the edges.”

One by one, as she went down the corridor, she pushed open bedroom doors. Each room was filled with garish gold and silver fittings, more white leather chairs, massive beds, once sparkling tiled bathrooms covered with a hoarfrost of dust.

And each bedroom now smelt of damp and mould. Or even … decay. In some rooms, dingy bedding lay pulled back, exposing yellowed bedsheets entwined like a carcass.

Again — another sign of people leaving fast as if the mysterious occupants had been roughly dragged away from their sleep.

In a couple of the rooms, she could see carpets had been pulled up, furniture moved. In others, it seemed random holes had been dug into the walls, the brickwork pulled loose.

In all the rooms, the drawers were open or scattered on the ground, cupboards bare, doors wide or even pulled off their hinges.

“Someone’s been up here,” she said, her voice low. “Just ripping into stuff.” Luke was close at her side as she moved.

“Kids, maybe?” said Luke. “Nothing to steal, so they trash the place.”

And as if in answer …

Another loud crash from behind the door, just yards away now at the end of the corridor.

“God!” said Luke, clutching her arm. “Megan, we really got to—”

Megan felt terrified too — but she couldn’t show it.

Not if Zach needed her to be strong.

Because what if Zach was behind that door? Trapped. Injured. Desperate for rescue?

Barely able to strike his hand on the wooden floor to attract attention.

“Come on,” she said again. She took the final steps to the end of the corridor, with Luke not quite as tightly behind her, and stood in front of the door.

Her breathing hurried. Her heart beating so fast.

She wet her lips with her tongue. This was it. Now or never.

She glanced quickly back at Luke, then reached out for the door handle, started to turn it …

Unlike the door downstairs — this one wasn’t locked.

She took a deep breath, then turned the handle fully, and slowly pushed the door open, her light sweeping the space as she stepped forward.

And then everything seemed to happen so quickly.

She saw — a room. Empty. Ahead — windows shattered, open, glass jagged all around the frame. A tree branch smashing into the gutted frame.

Light somehow from above, through a hole in the ceiling.

A hole in the roof too?

A shutter swinging back and forth, smashing erratically against the wall …

Megan took a breath. Relief.

“It’s only—” she said, stepping forward …

Into nothingness! Just a great torn hole where the floor should be.

And then Luke’s arm was around her, stopping her from falling, plunging down to the dark room below.

But not so dark that she couldn’t see a shape, a human shape, the shape of …

Had to be.

Zach. Her beautiful Zach.

Lying on his back, twenty feet below, on a mound of rubble, his yellow helmet tipped back, his eyes open and staring at her. But those eyes did not see anything because Zach was dead.

Megan screamed.

3. A New Case

Jack untied the mooring rope, pushed off from the riverbank, and made sure the oars were steady in the rowlocks.

Then, checking that his dog Riley was settled in the stern of the little dinghy, he dipped the oars in the water and rowed steadily downstream, away from The Grey Goose.

It was the most perfect summer evening — the Thames mirror-flat but flowing deeply, the water meadows lush green from so much early summer rain, and the sun still an hour or so away from setting.

He pulled steadily, passing the other residential boats and barges that lined the quarter mile to Cherringham Bridge, waving to the occasional neighbour he saw out on their decks enjoying an al fresco dinner or that first gin and tonic of the evening.

Until he glided under the medieval bridge, disturbing a family of ducks, their squawking echoing from the ancient stone arches, the water gently slapping the buttresses as he passed through.

He looked up to his left, where Cherringham stood at the top of the gentle hill, the sun warming the stone of the houses and cottages, the colours almost Italian, as if on a Tuscan hilltop.

Round the long slow bend of the river — nice easy strokes — and he watched a two-man scull silently and seriously slice past him heading upriver. The waters here wide enough, so no need to give way.

Ahead he saw the little jetty that marked the end of Sarah’s garden.

Already, even though there seemed to be not a jot of breeze, he could smell she had the barbecue lit.

Riley stretched and stood up, peering ahead to see what potential for excitement the evening might hold.

Perhaps a leftover bone from the evening’s steaks?

A quick glance over his shoulder, to check he was lining up nicely, then Jack shipped the oars and let the current take him to the jetty, where he now saw Sarah appear, barbecue fork in hand, her dog Digby by her feet.

“I put some sweetcorn on for starters,” she said, taking the rope from Jack and expertly tying up. “Couldn’t wait.”

“Perfect,” said Jack, stepping onto dry land and giving her a quick kiss on each cheek. Then he held up the little canvas shopping bag. “I got the steaks. Gotta tell you — they look gorgeous.”

“And I’ve made the salad,” she said. “Martini stuff’s over there ready for you. I’ve already hit the prosecco.”

“Ah — one of those days?” he said.

“Lately, every day’s one of those days,” said Sarah laughing. “Chloe and I are so busy. I thought, end of summer … things should quiet down …”

Jack laughed as Riley jumped ashore and raced off up the lawn with Digby. Then he walked to the table with all the accoutrements for preparing a perfect martini.

“You ready?”

But Sarah tilted her flute. “When I’m done with this. I’m good now.”

So Jack mixed himself a vodka martini: three jiggers of Kettle One, splash of Dolin’s extra-dry vermouth, and a drop or two of Regan’s orange bitters.

Then shaken, the sound alone wonderful as the ice chilled it all.

And as he did, Jack took in the new layout at the bottom of Sarah’s garden.

Gone was the rangy old line of shrubs and the rotting deck that had been there since his good friend had moved in a few years ago.

Instead, a raised terrace of quarry stones, a built-in barbecue, a slate slab to prep food, and even a small fridge and a sink.

To one side, a built-in bench stacked with cushions, curved around a permanent stone table, with lights dotted along a raised bed.

He poured the martini, a lemon curl hanging onto the side of the glass for dear life.

“Cheers,” said Sarah.

“Cheers,” said Jack, clinking her glass.

“What do you think?” she said, gesturing to the new layout.

“I think it’s amazing. You could live down here.”

“That’s what I’ve been doing the last few weeks. Every minute I can get away from work.”

He looked at her, apron on, hair up, barbecue fork in one hand and glass of prosecco in the other.

These are the moments in life you just have to seize and hold deep in your memory, because it doesn’t get any better, he thought.

“Jack!” came a familiar voice from the garden.

He turned and looked up the lawn to see Sarah’s daughter Chloe, approaching. Early twenties now, she looked startlingly like her mother, with the same easy confidence and smile.

Where did that shy ten-year-old go? he thought.

“You joining us?” he said, giving her a hug. “Do hope so. You can give me the low down what it’s really like working for your mom here.”

“She loves every minute,” said Sarah. “Isn’t that right, love?”

“Ha! Jack — you want the truth?” said Chloe.

“Hit me.”

“I do love every minute. Seriously. I do.”

“Not only that,” said Sarah, checking the corn on the barbecue, then turning back to them both, “she’s amazingly good. Bringing us no end of new clients.”

“That a fact?” said Jack. “Good for you. I’m sure Grace’s footsteps are tough ones to step into.”

“Grace was awesome, and I don’t think I can ever replace her,” said Chloe, “but I think maybe I’ve just got different contacts round here.”

“Younger contacts, that’s what she means, Jack” said Sarah. “Makes me feel old.”

“You are old, Mum, but the amazing thing is you don’t look it.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment — I think,” said Sarah, laughing.

Jack stepped back as Sarah loaded the sweetcorn onto a plate and brought it over to the table. Then he saw there were only two plates laid.

“So you’re not joining us?”

“Love to, but I’m going over to Hooky, meet some friends in the pub,” said Chloe.

“Shame,” said Jack. “Be good to catch up.”

“Oh, don’t worry, we’re going to meet up tomorrow,” said Chloe, reaching across to Sarah and kissing her goodbye. “Aren’t we, Mum?”

“We are?” said Jack, taking a mouthful of sweetcorn. “Sounds mysterious.”

“Mum’ll explain,” said Chloe, heading up the garden towards the house, then calling over her shoulder, “Night, night all!”

Jack turned to Sarah.

“Care to enlighten me?” he said. “Sounds like something serious.”

“It is — I think,” said Sarah. “But let’s eat first. Then I’ll tell you what’s up.”

Jack could sense Sarah’s mood shift.

“Okay,” he said. He grinned. “Ready for those steaks?”

“You bet,” she said, and he could see whatever dark thought had emerged had been banished, if only temporarily. “Just what I need!”

He stood up and walked over to the barbecue.

“Why don’t you look after the drinks and I’ll get cooking?”

*

“Kid’s name was Zach Woodcote,” said Sarah, leaning back against the big cushions. “I say ‘kid’, but really, near Chloe’s age. Early twenties.”

She flicked open the page on her tablet that showed the news item, handed it across the table to Jack, and watched him begin to scroll through.

Plates all stacked to one side, they were still in her little garden retreat by the river, the lights all on low, some jazz playing softly, a second cafetière of coffee already in play, and a bottle of Cointreau open.

The two dogs tired out, and snoozing at their feet.

She waited while he read the report.

“Sad,” he said, lowering the tablet and shaking his head. “So very sad. Guess a house like that’s a death trap.”

“Check the other tabs — couple of different angles on the story. Some stuff about urban exploring.”

“I’ve come across this kinda thing before,” he said, after reading more. “One or two famous incidents back in NY. More than a few abandoned properties just north of the city, in Westchester. Though not many ending this badly.”

After a minute, he put the tablet back on the table, and she watched as he poured another coffee for both of them and slid hers across.

“So what’s the deal?” he said.

“Zach’s girlfriend, Megan—”

“Girl who found the body?”

“Yes,” said Sarah. “She and Chloe were friends back at Cherringham High. She got in touch with Chloe out of the blue. Said she thinks Zach’s death wasn’t an accident.”

“That right?” said Jack. “She got a good reason for thinking that?”

“I haven’t talked to her. But Chloe spent a couple of hours with her yesterday, and says she does.”

“And what do you think?” said Jack.

“I think if Chloe passed it on to me, I should take it seriously.” Sarah smiled. “Think she has her mother’s instincts.”

“Good instincts indeed,” said Jack. “And Chloe’s been around the both of us long enough to ask the right questions, I’m sure.”

Sarah nodded, pleased and also suddenly proud that Jack, too, had a high opinion of her daughter.

“Says in here that Zach was quite the online star,” said Jack, glancing at the tablet. “I mean, should I have heard of him?”

“Well, he does have millions of followers on his YouTube channel, but, well, let’s just say, they’re not quite our demographic.”

“Ha, I’m not even sure I’m in your demographic,” said Jack. “You got access to his channel on this?”

Sarah took the tablet back, opened YouTube and went to Zach’s channel. Then she handed it back to Jack.

“I took a quick look this morning,” she said. “Need to go through it in more detail. But, in essence, Zach’s been urban exploring since he left uni a couple of years ago. See the videos. You can sort by location, anywhere in the world, or by type — residential, office, military, secret and so on.”

She saw Jack click on a video and start to watch.

“Ah. So the basic idea,” he said, “is to break in somewhere—?”

“No, not exactly ‘break in’,” said Sarah. “There’s a kind of code of honour about this: get in without damaging anything, film, explore, talk about it, share the knowledge, get out without damaging anything.”

“Expensive hobby,” said Jack.

“Hence the channel,” said Sarah. “From the views and followers, I’d say Zach’s on a few million a year.”

“What? You’re kidding me? I’m in the wrong business.”

“Jack — you’re in no business. You’re retired, remember?”

“Yeah, but even so. Think I can make millions shooting films of me on the barge?”

Sarah smiled. “Well …”

“Ha, maybe you’re right,” said Jack.

She watched him click on some more videos, then he put the tablet down.

“Let me see if I got this,” he said. “Just going from the media reports, right?”

“Go on.”

“Okay. So — the kid disappears for a week, his girlfriend gets worried, she and a pal check out a big ruined house he’d talked about, and lo and behold, there’s Zach, having fallen to his death a week earlier.”

“That’s about it,” said Sarah.

She watched him considering this.

“Okay. So normally, I’d think — yes, this does sound completely like an accident.”

“Me too.”

“But there’s two things kinda tickle my curiosity buds.”

“Let me guess,” said Sarah. “One, the fact that he’s loaded?”

“Correct, detective. Money — always a motive. And the other?”

“The fact his pals knew where to find him?”

“Correct again! And the lady with the hair in a bunch wins the cigar!”

“I see no cigar.”

“Yep, sadly those days are long gone,” Jack said, grinning. “Doctor’s orders, unfortunately. Time for one of your herbal teas instead?”

“Deal,” said Sarah. “By the way, another early start tomorrow — for both of us.”

“Oh yeah, seeing Chloe, that right?”

“Chloe and Megan — in my office at nine.”

“Megan, the girlfriend?”

“Yep. One or two of the others might turn up too.”

She stood up and started to gather plates. As Jack helped her, she saw him pause for a moment.

“Sarah. You think this is a case?” he said.

“I really don’t know. Not yet.”

“Okay. Let’s see what Megan has to say. Think I’m still going to take a bit of persuading.”

“Sure.”

“Meanwhile, a nice gentle row back home is bound to set me thinking. Then maybe I’ll power up my old computer, see what I can learn about this urban exploring.”

“Chloe’ll be impressed. Coolest barge owner on the river.”

“You mean, I wasn’t already?” he said, smiling.

And together, dishes piled high in their hands, they headed up the lawn in the darkness to do the washing up. Even that was part of this perfect evening.

But now with the hint of a mystery floating in the night air.

4. Megan

Jack climbed the narrow stairs to Sarah’s office, cup of Huffington’s coffee in hand, and tapped on the door when he reached the top floor.

“It’s open,” came Sarah’s voice, and Jack went in.

He saw straight away that the layout of the office had been changed in the few weeks he’d not been up here.

Some of the big computers had gone, and the old desks had been replaced with slim Scandinavian-looking tables.

The whole office looked more spacious, more … modern.

Chloe’s influence already, thought Jack. And maybe a good thing too.

He saw Sarah and Chloe sitting at a big new meeting table, and across from them a young woman in jeans and a newly minted Ramones T-shirt, purposely faded to look vintage.

A couple of nose studs glinting in the light, a small tattoo on one hand.

The young woman looked up at him and smiled.

“This is Megan,” said Sarah, then as Jack put down his coffee, “and this is—”

“You’re Jack,” she said. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“You have?” said Jack. “Hope it was good.”

“You helped my nan, a few years ago,” she said. “And then that stuff at school, remember? That was amazing.”

“Just trying to help,” said Jack, remembering all too clearly the case they’d solved at Cherringham High School. “And don’t forget, Sarah and me work as a team. It’s Chloe’s mum here who’s the real brains of the outfit.” He looked around the room. “And … I thought there was going to be someone else?”

“Ella, yes,” said Megan. “Guess she’s been held up.”

“Jack, I thought we’d get started anyway,” said Chloe, opening a laptop on the table in front of her. “Megan, tell Mum and Jack what you told me.”

Jack saw her look over at him and Sarah. “Oh, sorry, I don’t want to interfere, really, you should be saying what—”

Jack smiled. “No problem, Chloe, you’re right. Megan — why don’t you just tell us about Zach, and why you think there may be more to his death than people seem to think?”

He looked directly at her, smiling encouragingly, while he took out his notepad and pen.

“Maybe from the beginning.”

And Megan began

*

Sarah listened as Megan described how she and Zach had been at school together in Cherringham, but not really noticed each other much until they’d ended up at the same university, and both got into exploring.

“We did some really cool trips together, and I helped Zach get his blog and his YouTube channel up and running. And then, well, I guess we kind of became a thing.”

“Then … you came back here to Cherringham?” said Sarah.

“Well, I had to really,” said Megan. “Couldn’t get a job, so, back to stay with Mum and Dad.”

“Tell me about it,” said Chloe.

Sarah glanced across at her daughter and smiled.

Good girl, she thought. Keeping it light.

“So — what about Zach?” said Jack. “He move back in with Mom and Dad too?”

“Didn’t need to,” said Megan. “His YouTube channel just took off — he had so much money. He bought a flat in Cherringham Crescent.”

Sarah caught Jack’s eye: they’d both visited the crescent, the village’s only Georgian terrace, and she knew that flats there didn’t go for less than half a million.

“And you two carried on exploring?” said Sarah.

“Yeah. We hooked up with some other friends, kinda all supported each other, going off on trips.”

“Just remind me — who’s in the group?”

“Oh, Tom, Luke, Ella.”

“All in the village, yeah?” said Jack.

“Um, yes. We’re really good mates.”

“Luke — he was with you when you found Zach, yes?” said Jack.

“It was his idea to go to Blackwood House — look for him.”

“And that was last Monday?” said Sarah, making a note to ask about Luke and how he knew where to go.

“Yes,” said Megan, and Sarah could see her eyes beginning to water at the memory. She leaned forward and touched Megan’s hand.

“You okay with these questions?” she said.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m cool. Gotta be done.”

Sarah peeled back the pages in her notebook.

“Just want to make sure we have the timeline here,” she said. “So when did you last see Zach?”

“Well, it was seven, eight days before. On the Saturday. We all went down to Reading to check out this big old abandoned office block. When we got back we went to the Ploughman’s, played some pool, had a few beers. Closing time, I went back to Zach’s. Sunday we just chilled, binged Netflix. Just hanging out, you know?”

“Got it. And what kind of mood was Zach in?” said Jack. “You remember?”

“Zach? He was good. Always good. Steady, you know? We even talked about going to Japan together. Doing some live feeds.”

“But he didn’t mention Blackwood House?” said Sarah.

“No. In fact — I don’t ever remember him talking about the place.”

“And that Sunday evening … did you stay at his flat again?”

“No, I had to go home that evening. Work next day — stuff to sort.”

“Okay. So what happened Monday?” said Jack.

“Nothing,” said Megan. “But that’s just it. He never got in touch. Same next day. And then I didn’t hear from him the whole week.”

“Was that unusual?”

“Oh yeah, it was. Zach could be a bit of a loner sometimes. Just shoot off, get on a plane. But — sooner or later — he always messaged me to say where he was.”

“This time — nothing at all?”

“No. That was the really spooky thing. He always kept in touch.”

“Megan. That had to worry you. So what was the last communication you had from him?” said Jack.

“That Sunday night, after I’d gone to bed. Usual night-night text.”

Sarah saw Megan look away. She glanced at Jack — perhaps noting that as well.

“Okay. Let me see if I got this right,” said Jack. “He was totally off-grid — no messages, nothing — starting on the Monday morning. And the police say he died on the Thursday?”

“Yes,” said Megan.

“You have any idea how they can be so sure?” said Sarah.

“Oh yes. From his GoPro,” said Megan.

“His helmet-cam?” said Jack.

“Yeah. See, you always have it running when you’re exploring. Police told us his cam video shows him exploring Blackwood House that Thursday night, right up until—”

Sarah asked another question quickly, before Megan had time to react.

“You mean the time-stamp locks him into the house on that Thursday night?” said Sarah.

“Totally.”

Sarah looked at Jack. He was clearly thinking what she was thinking.

Exactly where was Zach from the Sunday night when Megan left him to the Thursday that week?

She looked down at her notes again, then remembered another question.

“You said Luke suggested the two of you go look for Zach at Blackwood House?”

“Yeah.”

“What made him think that Zach might be there?”

“He said he just remembered. A few weeks before, the two of them were hanging together, got talking about haunted houses. Luke said Zach was really keen to explore one.” Megan took a breath. “Never told me though.” She forced a sad smile. “Guess, he thought I’d worry.”

“And Blackwood House? Supposedly haunted?” said Sarah.

“That was the word on it. Bad stuff happened there. If you believe all that. That’s what Zach apparently said to Luke. Said it would be great to get it on his channel. I mean, if it was haunted? Get his numbers way back up.”

Sarah caught the implication of what Megan had said.

“So Zach’s numbers — his viewers, followers, whatever — were going down?” said Sarah. “That mean his income too?”

The girl shrugged. “So much competition from other explorers,” said Megan. “Can’t stand still or the people just go somewhere else. And the money goes with them. Always need something new — something exciting.”

She saw Jack look over at her, the slightest of nods.

“Maybe something dangerous? Tell me about this Blackwood House,” he said, picking up the questioning. “You surprised he went in on his own?”

And Sarah knew — Jack had picked up on something. She saw Megan again turn away, the loss still so raw, and then that added horror: of discovering the body herself.

Sarah, with Jack and Chloe huddled close by, simply waited.

Megan slowly turned back.

“Totally,” she said. “We never went urbexing alone. Was like an unbreakable code for us. A buddy system.”

“And yet — he did?”

Megan nodded at that reality.

“Why don’t you tell us about what happened when you went there with Luke,” said Jack.

Sarah listened carefully as Megan went through her visit to the house, the downstairs rooms, then the upstairs corridor, the door, the shock.

Then she saw Jack lean forward, keeping his voice low as he said: “And somehow, Zach came to that exact same spot, just like you, and fell?”

But at that, Megan shook her head

“No. That’s the thing! You see, we’re talking about Zach Woodcote here. He’s the best of us. Maybe, the best of any of the urbexers anywhere.” Another determined shake.

“Zach could never just fall. He wouldn’t have just walked into that room like I did.”

Sarah paused a moment. Megan’s words meaning only one thing.

“You think something happened to him, Megan?” said Sarah. “That maybe somebody deliberately harmed him? Somehow made him fall?”

She saw Megan frown, almost as if she hadn’t thought through the dire implication of her words.

“I guess so. I mean—”

Sarah lowered her voice. Big question coming. “Do you have any idea who?”

Silence.

Does Megan really suspect someone, or is this all just a way of avoiding the reality of Zach’s death? Sarah thought.

“I mean, did Zach have any enemies? Or could he have been in some kind of trouble?”

Sarah gave a quick look to Chloe to see how she was taking this. Did Chloe share that steadfast belief that it simply couldn’t have been a terrible accident?

Chloe caught the glance, but Sarah couldn’t tell what her daughter was thinking.

Thank God Chloe was not an urbexer.

Sarah was thinking of the next difficult questions when she heard a door open from below, then footsteps coming up to her office.

And another member of the group that invaded abandoned places hurried in. Dark curly hair, clear blue eyes even from feet away, the girl’s face set, grim.

“Sorry. I’m Ella. Got caught up by a bunch of things.”

Without looking at Megan, Ella grabbed a chair and pulled it up to the table.

Sarah caught, for a second, a look on Megan’s face as she looked at her friend, arriving late to the conversation.

A displeased look, maybe even angry; surprising Sarah in its intensity.

And then the look faded and Megan smiled, touched Ella’s hand.

But Sarah had seen it.

5. Ella

“Ella,” Sarah said, “we were just talking with Megan about how you guys have a buddy system. So why would Zach go to Blackwood House alone, and—”

But Sarah paused.

Because as soon as she said the words, she caught something in Ella’s eyes. And then Sarah had the thought, Maybe Ella doesn’t agree with Megan.

If so, that could be important to hear.

Jack asked the question: “Ella, it’s strange for someone to go in alone, yes?”

A bit of hesitation.

“Well, yeah, we have a code. Never alone — in case, well you know, something like what happened to Zach happens. You have someone there. Kind of a rule.”

“Which,” Jack continued, “Zach in this case ignored. First time that happened?”

Megan nodded. But again, Sarah was drawn to Ella’s face.

Not agreeing.

“Ella — do you know if Zach ever did something like this before?”

“Well, there is one time everyone knows about,” said Ella with a shrug. “All over the bloody internet.”

Megan had meanwhile turned to her friend, perhaps not sure she wanted Ella to reveal what she was about to reveal.

“Up in Aberdeen. Big, abandoned electrical power station. Talk about a dangerous place. And Zach did that all by himself.”

Now Sarah was confused. If the group had a code, a generally recognised way these things were done, then why solo?

A question to ask. But first, “Megan, you also knew Zach had done this before?”

She shrugged as if it wasn’t important but then added, “He knew he shouldn’t. We had even talked about it. He promised me, that those days were over.”

When, Sarah thought, they apparently weren’t.

“So, a question for both of you. Why would Zach do it?”

At that, a shake of the head from Ella.

“The obvious reason. Did it on his own, so he could pull in views, for his channel. A solo house invasion. No back-up. I’m surprised he didn’t livestream it. People like that kinda stuff. You see, as good as Zach was, he was all about the money.”

Megan came back fast at that. “Not true. Not true at all.”

Which made Ella spin.

“C’mon, Megan,” said Ella. “I know you cared for Zach. We all did. But you also know this was more like a business for him. A solo invasion? Pure gold.”

That seemed to silence Megan.

Jack kept his voice low, clearly sensing emotions were running high here. “Well, we know he was alone. Been told no one else on the GoPro video. And — based on what you’ve both said — we have a pretty good idea now why he did it.”

“Good,” said Ella. “Glad we cleared that up.”

It occurred to Sarah that Ella seemed almost angry at the dead Zach. Odd reaction, but then grief can do strange things.

Definitely something to talk about with Jack.

“Okay, Ella,” said Jack, “one thing Megan mentioned. Zach was good. A mistake like that? A fall like that? How does that happen?”

“Guess even the best have their bad nights.”

Sarah paused. She also felt her daughter’s eyes on her, locked on. Sarah thought, Chloe’s never seen me and Jack do something like this.

And certainly not with someone that Chloe knew — was even friends with.

“That what you think it was? Just a ‘bad night’?”

Ella took her time answering.

“What else could it be?”

Sarah slowly looked over to Megan. Who had her own question.

“You’ll still look into things, won’t you? Please. Tell me you will.”

Sarah looked at Jack. A near imperceptible movement of his head in agreement as he closed his notebook.

“Yes. Of course, it may turn out to have been just a terrible accident. But it can’t hurt if we look into how it happened.”

At that Ella stood up.

Her next words, a bit surprising. “Good. Zach would have wanted that. I mean, with his reputation and all. So, thank you.”

Megan joined her, standing.

A look to Jack then Sarah.

“Yes, thank you.”

Sarah thought, Meeting over. But as she stood, Jack spoke.

“Oh, Ella. Sorry. Just one last question.”

“Sure,” said Ella, with a frown.

“Thanks,” said Jack, flipping open his notebook again, pen hovering. “I was wondering, when was the last time you saw Zach?”

“Me?”

“Yes.”

“Um …”

Sarah could see that Ella was thrown by the simple question. She stood frozen.

And Sarah saw Megan was frozen too — but maybe for a different reason?

“Sorry,” said Jack. “I know what it’s like. When something like this has happened, your memory just kinda goes blank. Not to worry if you can’t quite recall—”

“No, no, it’s fine,” said Ella.

And now she blurted out the answer as if relieved that it made sense. “It was that Saturday night, a few days before he … At the pub. The Ploughman’s. We played pool. Together. All of us. Didn’t we, Megan?”

Sarah saw Megan nod, not saying a word.

“Great,” said Jack, then he put his notepad away and smiled at Ella and Megan. “You two take care, now,” he said.

Sarah watched as the two girls turned and headed back down the rickety staircase, down to the village square, waiting until she heard the door shut behind them.

“Well. What do we make of that?” she said.

*

Jack had a lot of thoughts. That interview had not gone exactly the way he thought it would.

But he had a more pressing thought.

“I think we should stroll over to Huffington’s. Do some planning.”

He noticed that Chloe was now standing by her mother, maybe thinking the three of them would repair to the café.

Jack had no need to say anything about that, as Sarah turned to her daughter.

“Chloe, best you stay here, catch up on the work we—”

Jack saw that Chloe’s face looked stunned.

“Hang on. It’s my friend we’re talking about. Her boyfriend’s dead. Don’t you think I should help?”

Sarah put a hand on her daughter’s forearm. And in the gentlest of voices said, “Chloe, it’s precisely because of that. Jack, and I — we don’t know what we’ll find. What might happen. Maybe nothing. No case at all. But these are your friends, and it might not be such a good idea for you to be involved.”

Jack didn’t see any softening in Chloe’s gaze.

And he was reminded of the time, not too many years ago, when Chloe’s gap year in France turned unexpectedly into a second year, with that obviously too-fast engagement that almost happened.

Sarah’s Chloe could have been gone, forever. Her life, her decision.

But Chloe, older, wiser, came back. And the bond between Sarah and her daughter now seemed — to Jack — unbreakable. Still …

“I could help, Mum. You know I could. Lots. I could—”

Sarah’s hand remained on that forearm.

“I know. But maybe another time, another case. Where you don’t have a connection. Might be better. Right, Jack?”

Jack smiled. “I’ll say.” Jack took a breath. “Just not this time.”

And finally, he saw a break in the young woman’s expression, the logic maybe making sense.

Sarah added, “And — with the backlog of work we have, it’s just great to have you here. Knowing that you’re handling it means I can breathe more easily.”

And finally — like sun breaking through the dark clouds — Chloe smiled, with a simple “okay”. Then, “But next time …”

And Sarah smiled as well, as she turned to Jack. “Absolutely.”

Then a nice, tight hug.

Jack remembered those hugs with his own daughter. Never seeming to last long enough, the moment so precious.

He led the way down, a planning session at Huffington’s awaiting.

6. Biscuits, a Spot of Tea … and Questions

Sarah watched as Lizzie put down a plate of shortbread with a few other biscuits mixed in, the pot of tea still steeping in front of them.

As usual Lizzie beamed at Jack.

Her doting on him was actually cute.

“Lizzie,” he said, “I think you let some unordered cookies escape onto the plate here.”

Lizzie laughed, shook her head. “Oh you and your cookies, Jack. You know we only have biscuits in Cherringham.”

“Well, whatever you want to call them, I must say, you do provide us with the very best.”

Another warm smile from the waitress and she moved on.

“You,” Sarah said, “are shameless.”

“What? Just having a little chat with the serving staff. They’re people too, you know.”

“If you ever stop coming here Lizzie’ll be heartbroken.”

“Well, that’s never going to happen. This place — one of the treasures of the universe.”

“That it is. Shall I pour?”

“Do believe it’s ready.”

She took the pot and poured the tea, and as Jack picked up a shortbread, lightly dusted with sugar, he began.

“I’ll start. Some confusing things here.”

“I agree.”

“Okay, so, we know solo exploring is not the rule. Maybe even frowned on. But seems Zach had a weakness for it.”

“Yup. And?”

“Also — this was no hobby for Zach. Made a lot of money.”

“And,” Sarah added, “apparently he liked all that money.”

“What’s not to like?”

“Only — maybe he wasn’t making enough anymore? So he took risks.”

“Ergo accident.”

“Makes sense,” said Sarah.

“Something else — least for me.”

“Yeah?”

“Ella and Megan,” said Jack. “Not on the same page.”

Sarah laughed. “You noticed?”

Jack grinned. “Oh yeah. Megan — naturally enough, I guess — major blind spots regarding Zach. But Ella … her reaction … Dunno. Surprising?”

“Yeah. Almost as if she was angry he went into Blackwood House.”

“Lot of possibilities there,” said Jack.