Page 84 of Murder Most Haunted

She seemed very unsteady on her feet and there was a definite smell of alcohol. Harold frowned and shook the end of the rifle. ‘There’s something inside there.’

He turned the gun upside down and shook it hard, dislodging the blockage, which flew out of the barrel and landed on the snow, glistening against the white. Something that was small, dark and cylindrical.

It was the missing film canister.

Chapter54

Extract fromThey Do It With Stringspodcast

‘The Tin House’: Episode Five

Noah:Welcome back, listeners. I’m sitting in one of the bedrooms of Atherton Hall, talking with John Rendell, owner of Haunting Holiday Excursions, the company that operates this weekend’s paranormal tour.

Rendell:Is this fitted on properly? Testing, testing... one, two...

Noah:Yes, it’s all good. No need to shout. I’ll adjust the levels when I edit it all.

Rendell:Right. Mind if I drink while talking?

Noah:Don’t you think maybe you’ve had enough already?

Rendell:Cheers.

[Sound of ice being swirled in a glass]

Noah:So, if you could start by telling me how you first heard of the White Lady of Atherton Moor?

Rendell:OK. Well, obviously, this isn’t my usual line of work. I mean, Haunting Holiday Excursions is what I do now, but before that, and your listeners may be interested in this, I wasa detective in Thames Valley Police. Bloody good one, too. Sorry, can I say that? It’s always hard to know what you can say nowadays. People getting offended by this and that. What do they call it? Politically correct? Made a mockery of the job, too. Glad I got out when I did. If an officer can’t rely on their gut instincts, then what hope is there?

[Sound of liquid being poured over ice]

Noah:Was there a particular reason that you were drawn to Atherton Hall?

Rendell:All these old places have a ghost story of some sort, don’t they? Listen, if you want some real background for your storycast thingy, take this.

[Sound of rustling and an object being placed on the table]

Noah [reading]:‘This is the journal of Dr Theodore Rawlings, country doctor and personal physician to the Atherton family.’

Rendell:Current owners had that dug out of the hall’s archive when I told them why I was renting the place. Anyway, that’s it. Everything you need is in there. Christ, not that it’s going to take much to tip this lot over the edge. That doctor’s wife already looks like she’s ready to be carted off to the funny farm. And her husband, what’s his deal? Looking down his nose at me. Bloody doctors, always got to be the smartest people in the room, haven’t they? Course, you’ll be hard-pressed to find one that can speak English these days.

Noah:I’m not really sure what that’s got to do with—

Rendell:And the fat one. Marge? Jesus, doesn’t she give you the heebie-jeebies? Sitting there staring at everyone as if she’s trying to decide which one to eat first.

Noah:I haven’t really thought about—

Rendell:Then there’s the pop star with all her secrets. Nobody’s more susceptible than someone fresh out of rehab, believe me. Half my age and already more money than sense.

[Sound of a glass being refilled]

Noah:How do you know? Jesus, have you been checking up on everyone?

Rendell:I’ve still got my connections on the job. You’ll be surprised how handy running PNC checks can be before a séance.

Noah:That’s unethical and illegal.

Rendell:What would you know about it? Booted out of the cadets, weren’t you? Bet your old man was pretty pissed off about that. Generations of army tradition broken by one twat in skinny jeans.