Page 36 of Murder Most Haunted
‘That rather depends on your perspective,’ said Noah, cutting the corner off the cheddar that Midge had placed on the table and popping it in his mouth. ‘Honestly, this is the BEST haunted house experience ever!’
Frowning, Midge reached across and evened off the other corner with her knife.
‘Noah!’ said Rona. ‘It’s my first one of these trips, but I’m pretty sure people aren’t supposed to actually die.’
‘Great for Noah’s podcast thingy, though,’ said the doctor, slicing up a tomato directly on the counter, despite the wooden chopping board next to him.
Midge considered Noah for a moment. The doctor had a point, and the way Noah was cutting random edges of cheeses, willy-nilly, showed a degree of recklessness that Midge had so far not realized he was capable of.
‘Are you going to eat that sandwich?’ Midge asked Gloria, who nodded her head and was just about to take a bite whenshe suddenly dropped the food on to her plate and started screaming.
‘Jesus Christ!’ shouted Harold, who had appeared in the doorway that led to the garden. ‘You nearly gave me a flipping heart attack, what are you yelling for?’
‘Wh-what have you done?’ cried Gloria, her eyes as wide as saucers. She pointed a shaking hand up at him. ‘What is that all over you?’
His hands and shirt were covered in streaks of red and his trousers soaked through.
‘Get back, man,’ said the doctor, grabbing Midge’s cheese knife. ‘I’m warning you.’
Harold looked down at himself in surprise. ‘Oh my... I am a bit of a mess.’
‘Is that blood?’ asked Midge.
‘The sheep,’ blinked Harold, moving over to the sink and taking care to avoid the doctor and his knife. ‘I couldn’t stand looking at it any more. I’ve dragged it into the trees.’
‘Jesus,’ said Rona, turning green, which against her pink hair put Midge in mind of a watermelon.
‘Goodness!’ Gloria drew in some deep breaths and tried to hold her cup and saucer, which rattled nervously. ‘I thought—’
‘We all know what you thought,’ snapped the doctor, sitting back down in his chair.
‘What were you going to do with that anyway?’ said Harold, washing his hands and nodding at the cheese knife. ‘Pair me with a gouda?’
‘We need to get out of here,’ Dr Mortimer said, ignoring him. ‘This situation is no good for Gloria’s nerves.’
‘The bus is broken, remember?’ said Rona. ‘And we’re in the middle of a firing range with a closed road.’
As if on cue, the artillery fire started up again, rattling the windowpanes and eliciting a low moan from Gloria.
‘It’s all your fault,’ muttered the doctor, glaring at Harold.
‘How was I supposed to know Rendell was going to top himself?’
‘So it definitely was suicide?’ asked Rona.
‘Yes,’ insisted Harold, wiping his nose with the back of his hand. ‘I know it.’
‘How?’ asked Noah.
‘It’s happened before. Not the suicide, obviously, but he’s got into money troubles because of the gambling. Before, he just pulled a Reggie Perrin.’
‘Reggie what?’ asked Rona, examining her long nails.
‘You know – fake a disappearance when you owe money and then just resurface sometime later, new company et cetera,’ explained Harold as he scrubbed at his bloodied shirt.
‘Are you suggesting that this is all an elaborate set-up?’ Dr Mortimer frowned. ‘Because I can tell you that the man upstairs is definitely dead.’
‘No... I mean, he obviously did it for real this time,’ said Harold.
