Ghouls, Ghouls, Ghouls Part 14

"Where?" I asked.

"The local paper. I'm pretty sure they would have covered the tragedy of Kincaid falling to his death-it made national headlines back in the States, after all."

I brightened at the suggestion. "You're right! And if they covered the story, they likely got everyone's name."

"We can check there in the morning," John said.

"Not if the electricity doesn't get turned back on," Gilley grumbled.

I sighed. He could be such a pill sometimes. "We'll keep our fingers crossed that it comes back on by then."

I should have crossed my toes too, because in the morning the electricity was still out all across town, and steady gusts of fifty- to sixty-knot winds with sheeting rain weren't helping the situation.

"This sucks," said Gilley, still pouting at the breakfast table.

I had to hand it to Anya: She'd managed to make us all breakfast of fruit, leftover rolls, oatmeal with raisins, and hot tea in spite of having no electricity. "I've a kettle that fits right over the fire," she said smartly. "Comes in quite handy during weather like this."

I smiled and thanked her for her efforts, while subtly elbowing Gilley in the ribs. "Be nice," I hissed when Anya wasn't looking.

He scowled and hunched farther into the blanket wrapped round his shoulders, nibbling away at his third breakfast roll like a hungry squirrel with his last nut.

The room was quite chilly, even though I had on long underwear and two sweaters. Heath joined us, rubbing his hands together and blowing on his fingers. "Brrrrr," he said, sitting down and reaching for a cup of steaming tea.

The temperature had dropped significantly, and as I looked out the front window, I wondered if Gopher was suffering from hypothermia. I tried to remember what he'd been wearing. ...

"You thinking about Gopher?" Heath asked, reading my mind.

"Yeah. I'm worried about him in this weather."

Heath followed my gaze out the window. "That castle was cold."

"And damp."

"Great ghost-hunting conditions, though," Gilley remarked. "If that phantom weren't there, I wonder who we'd be able to make contact with. I mean, you could probably talk to Kincaid or that French guy, no problem."

And just like that, an idea bloomed in my mind. "Gilley," I said admiringly, "I do believe you're a bit of a genius."

He lowered his lids and said, "Well, duh!"

That made me laugh.

"What's the plan?" Heath asked.

I focused on him. "Maybe Dunnyvale had it wrong," I said. "Maybe we don't start with this Alexandra chick. Maybe we start with the first sign of trouble."

Heath nodded. "The Frenchman."

"Exactly."

"You'll never get across the causeway today, though," Gilley remarked. "I checked the weather on John's phone-thank G.o.d he had a chance to charge his before the electricity blew. The winds aren't going to die down until tonight, which means the storm surge will be covering the causeway all morning."

That unsettled me, because I felt we might be running out of time. "What time is low tide tonight?"

Gilley bent down to retrieve a notebook from his backpack. "Should be around seven thirty, and you'll have until about nine thirty to get back if the surge isn't high."

Heath and I exchanged glances. "I'm in," he said softly.

Gilley looked sharply at us. "Hold on," he said. "You're not thinking about going back to that castle in the dark in the dark, are you?"

"What choice do we have?" I asked him.

"To stay here today and go tomorrow morning!"

"Gilley," I said, using my best "Please remain calm" voice. "We can't let an entire day go by without doing something for Gopher. My gut says he's running out of time."

"It's too dangerous!" Gil insisted. "M. J., look at what happened just before dusk the last time we went to the castle! You almost died!"

I inhaled and exhaled slowly. "Honey," I said softly. "I'm not going to go up to the castle. The Frenchman, the coast guard officer, and Kincaid all died at the base of those cliffs. It stands to reason that I might be able to reach at least one of them there on the safety of the sh.o.r.e and talk to them without encountering the phantom."

"You don't know that it won't come down the stairs after you!" Gilley insisted, his eyes wide and frightened. "M. J., be reasonable! Now that we know how deadly that thing is, I'm not up for you going there at all, much less at night. You know know spooks get stronger at night. And we've already made that spooks get stronger at night. And we've already made that thing thing angry. We don't know what it's really capable of. It could come down those stairs, and in the dark you'd never know it until it was on top of you. At least in the daylight you might see it coming." angry. We don't know what it's really capable of. It could come down those stairs, and in the dark you'd never know it until it was on top of you. At least in the daylight you might see it coming."

I turned back to Heath to see if he'd been swayed by Gilley's argument. "I'm still in if you want to go," he said.

Gilley glared furiously at him.

"We're going," I told Gil. "Sorry, buddy, but we have to do this."

Gilley's face turned downright mean, and he shoved his chair back and stomped out of the room. "I'm not going with you!" he called from the stairway. He then stopped abruptly, returned to the table, and grabbed three more rolls before turning away in a huff again.

[image]

Heath and I found our way to the local paper, which was located in a rather small building in the center of town. The door was locked tight, and the interior was dark, as were most of the businesses along the narrow street.

I huddled inside my coat, shivering in the chill rain and damp air. "I hope we catch a break from this weather tonight when we cross the causeway," I said.

"It would be the first time we caught a break on this bust," Heath grumbled.

And then I had another idea. "Hey, you know, if Kincaid stayed at the Dunlee Inn, maybe the French guy did too."

"Worth checking out. Did John tell you where it was?"

I saw a small cafe down the street with lights on and the sound of a generator's motor humming on the otherwise quiet street. "No. But someone in there is bound to know."

After getting directions from the cafe owner, we made our way to the Dunlee Inn. It was a sweet-looking structure with dark brown shingles and a thatched roof. Moving inside, we inquired about the owner, and a portly gentleman with thick white hair and a ready smile greeted us. "Top oh the mornin' to ya," he sang. "I'm Sean Tierney. How can I help you?"

Heath and I explained who we were, and reminded him that he'd spoken to our colleague the evening before. "Ah, yes," he said. "John from America. Lovely young man. He was inquiring about Mr. Kincaid and his party."

"Yes," I said. "And we're very grateful for the information you gave to him. But today I wanted to come by and ask about the Frenchman who first encountered the phantom."

"You mean Gaston Bouvet?"

My eyebrows shot up. "You remember him?"

The innkeeper smiled wide. "Oh, I remember him all right. He stayed with me those first few weeks he was exploring the castle. O' course, on his return trip he stayed in the Mulholland house, but while he was here, we got to know each other quite well."

"We're interested to learn anything we can about the phantom that haunts Dunlow Castle. We understand that Gaston was the first to encounter it."

Sean's expression turned grave. "Aye, miss, he was the first. But he made no mention of it on his visit with us here at the Dunlee Inn. No, we think he encountered that frightful thing on his return visit when he and his mate went putting their noses where they didn't belong."

"How long was the time between his two visits?"

Sean scratched his head and thought back. "I'd say at least a fortnight. He said he had business to attend to before he came back and continued his search for Dunnyvale's gold."

Heath asked, "Do you really believe Bouvet knew where the gold was hidden?"

"He said he did. In fact, he insisted that he knew exactly where it was hidden. He claimed to have a secret letter telling him precisely where to find the gold-though I never got a peek at it. He carried the letter on his person at all times, and only took it out when he could be sure no one was havin' a look over his shoulder."

I wondered what had happened in the two weeks between Bouvet's first visit to the rock and his second that sparked the appearance of the phantom, and remembered that Dunnyvale had told me the phantom was brought there by someone. I asked Sean, "In the time that Bouvet was back in France, did anyone else report having any strange encounters at Dunlow Castle?"

The innkeeper shook his head. "No, miss, quite the opposite. There were many a local person here in Dunlee who wanted to see if they could find the gold before the Frenchman came back. But no one had any luck at it. There were treasure hunters on that rock right up to Bouvet's return, in fact."

I turned to Heath and shrugged my shoulders. He nodded; then we thanked the kindly innkeeper and headed out. "What was it about Bouvet's return that brought on the phantom?" I asked him after we'd dashed through the rain to the van and buckled ourselves in.

"I have no idea," he admitted. "The only thing I can think of is that Bouvet somehow either brought the phantom with him on his return visit or woke it up when he went in search of the treasure."

"Huh," I said, wondering about what he'd just revealed. "Maybe that's it, Heath."

"Maybe what's it?"

"What if the phantom has really been on that rock all along, guarding Dunnyvale's treasure, and only got woken up when that treasure was disturbed?"

"You mean like the mummy's curse, or something?" Heath said with a chuckle.

But I wasn't joking. "Exactly like that," I told him. "It sort of makes sense given the fact that no one remembers seeing the phantom until Bouvet returned for the treasure. And up until his second visit when he went to retrieve it, the phantom was apparently lying dormant."

"But what about what Lord Dunnyvale told you?"

"You mean the part where he told me that someone else was responsible for the phantom? And that the answers to the phantom's origins lie with this Alexandra person?"

"Yeah."

I shook my head. "I think he was lying." Heath looked skeptical, so I explained my reasoning. "Alexandra and Kincaid didn't show up until sixteen years after after the first appearance of the phantom. It was haunting that castle all that time, so how could it possibly be connected to her?" the first appearance of the phantom. It was haunting that castle all that time, so how could it possibly be connected to her?"

"Good point," Heath admitted.

"And," I continued, "Alexandra's Russian. If I remember correctly, Kincaid was South African-right?"

"Right."

"Sean said that Bouvet went back to France to tend to his business and returned with a friend. Kincaid would have been about ten years old at the time, living in South Africa-so we know the friend wasn't him. And from what John said about this Russian chick, she was probably of a similar age at the time, so how could it have been her? All roads lead back to that rock and Bouvet's search for the gold. I think that Ra.n.a.ld used the phantom as a guard to keep his treasure out of any prospective thief's hands."

"So the spirit of Lord Dunnyvale lied to you, but for what purpose?"

And that stumped me. For the life of me I couldn't think of a reason why Dunnyvale would save me from the phantom only to send me in circles about its origin. "I haven't figured that part out yet."

Heath leaned back in his seat and sighed tiredly. "Well," he said, "we'd better figure it out soon if we're going to save Gopher."

Chapter 8.

Heath and I stood on the first cobblestones of the causeway, shivering in the cold wind, blowing out of the north. "Jesus," he said, ducking his chin against the elements.

I pulled at the cuffs of my gloves and patted the scarf wound thickly about my neck. "At least it's stopped raining."

"You ready to get this over with?"

I switched on my flashlight. Heath did the same and our beams swept over the cobblestones. An occasional wave slipped over the lip of the causeway, but otherwise, it remained dry. "I'm up for jogging it," I told him, relieved to see it fairly clear of water.

Heath made a sweeping motion with his arm and, adopting an Irish brogue, said, "La.s.ses first!"

I gave him a sidelong grin and trotted forward. As we broke away from the surrounding rocks and sh.o.r.e, the cold wind bit into us even more. Thank G.o.d I'd packed some long underwear.

I increased my speed, wanting to get across the causeway as quickly as possible. Behind me I could hear Heath's quick steps, telling me he was keeping pace.

We reached the rock without incident, and only my feet and the cuffs of my jeans were wet. Still, that was enough to quickly temper the burst of heat I'd created running across the causeway.

Heath stepped up beside me, breathing hard. "Where should we start looking?"

I pointed to my left. "That's where we saw Kincaid fall."

Heath nodded. "Maybe we'll get lucky and call up both Kincaid and Bouvet."

I frowned. "We haven't had that kind of luck so far."

"So we're due," he said with a grin. "Come on. The sooner we find out if these two are willing to communicate, the sooner we can get back to the B&B and that warm fire."

I hurried along after Heath as he scouted the path to the place right below where we'd watched Kincaid fall. When we stopped, I chanced a glance over my shoulder, nervous to be so close to the phantom.

"Did you see something?" Heath asked, pointing his flashlight in the direction I was looking.