Page 87 of Dead Serious Case 4 Professor Prometheus Plume
The sound of heavy footsteps draws our attention to the doorway where John the Maid’s hulking form appears, a swooning Mr Pennington cradled bridal-style in his thickly muscled arms.
“What happened to him?” Danny asks.
“Fainted.”
“But he’s a horror writer,” I say. “You’d think he’d have a bit more fortitude if he writes scary fiction for a living.”
John the Maid shrugs and plonks the unconscious man down on a nearby sofa.
I open my mouth to speak again, only to be interrupted this time by Essie and Martha arriving in the doorway with Mr and Mrs Nakatomi.
“Oh my gosh, this is the best murder mystery weekend we’ve ever been on!” Essie declares in delight.
“We’re definitely giving it the highest score on TripAdvisor!” Martha chimes in, then sucks in a sharp breath as she sees the ghosts.
“See!” Bertie gives a loud guffaw. “I told you it was a good idea.”
“Genius,” Roger agrees.
The Nakatomis have also caught sight of Bertie and Roger and are now talking animatedly to each other in rapid Japanese. They seem to be very excited. Mrs Nakatomi is clutching some sort of handheld electrical device that keeps lighting up and beeping, whereas Mr Nakatomi is holding his phone up and taking pictures.
I seem to recall Ellis mentioning at the mix and mingle that the Nakatomis were amateur ghost hunters in their spare time. I guess this must be like Disneyland for them.
“Roger, please stop that.” I sigh as I watch Roger striking poses while Mr Nakatomi takes his picture.
Roger pauses while he’s coyly drawing his finger to his lips and peeking back over his shoulder in a kind of coquettish ingenue pose.
“Is that everyone?” I ask after Aggie, Mrs Snow, Mr Meadow, and Major Dick all scurry into the room.
“It’s insane out there,” Major Dick declares. “Won’t be bloody coming back here. Sir Lawrence Olivier never had to put up with this shit.”
“That’s because he was a legend of the stage and screen,” Mrs Snow snaps back, “not some old washed-up, never-was, part-time actor from Romford.”
They continue to bicker back and forth until Mr Meadow, in a move I haven’t seen sinceJurassic Park, reaches over and grabs Mrs Snow’s head, turning it in the direction of the ghosts. The major and Mrs Snow immediately fall into stunned silence as they stare and their jaws drop.
Strangely enough, Aggie doesn’t seem that surprised. She merely wanders into the room and stands beside John the Maid.
Mrs Snow reaches into her cleavage and withdraws a small, silver flask. Her gaze never wavers from the ghosts as she unscrews the lid and takes a swig before handing it to the major. He swallows a large mouthful as he too stares at the ghosts.
“It’s warm,” he mutters as he hands the flask back. She tucks it back into her cleavage.
“Dick,” she murmurs in response.
Now that it appears all the living with the exception of Dilys have joined us, I figure there’s less of a chance I’ll be interrupted with anyone else’s arrival, so I turn back to the ghosts and start talking yet again.
“Why can they see you?”
“Because we can show ourselves if we feel like it,” Bertie states. “Figured out how to back in sixty-nine.”
Dusty sniggers, and I fight the urge to roll my eyes.
“It’s true. They can show themselves to the living if they want to. Most of those types can, although it’s frowned upon,” Dusty says as she casts them a reproving glance. “I, however, am not an earthbound ghost. As a spirit-guide-in-training, I’m technically classed as a higher being and am obliged to adhere to much stricter rules. The living aren’t allowed to see me except in exceptional circumstances.”
“What the bloody hell is going on?” Major Dick bellows.
“Isn’t it obvious?” Ellis chirps up, almost bouncing on his toes. “We’ve got ghosts! REAL LIVE ONES!”
“And also, Tristan and Danny found Professor Plume’s body,” Rosie adds, still clinging onto Ellis nervously.