They looked around the table at one another.
“Let’s see,” Chef began. “Harry, you had just started. Devon, you’d been here a month or so. Mrs. Avery, of course, and Mr. Green has been here since he was a kid working with his dad on the property. Me, of course. I’ve been here eight years.”
“What about the maids?” Jane asked.
“Just Phoebe. The other two girls started in the last few years,” Scully said. “I’ve been here for five… oh, God! I was the one who found Cally. Her eyes were open, too. She was just staring toward the ceiling. No. It wasn’t the ceiling. It was the painting.” She leaned forward, focusing on Jane. “She was staring at the painting of Elizabeth Roth, right there, right where it hung on the wall.”
“Maybe it’s true,” Devon said quietly. “Maybe we’re all okay as long as no one gets married here. Maybe Elizabeth has remained all these years—and she’ll kill someone before she allows a wedding to take place in this house!”
Chapter 3
Sloan had feared he might have some trouble with Emil Roth. After all, he was liable for what had happened, being the castle’s owner. Even if lawyers could argue that the man wasn’t responsible for another’s accident on a safe stairway, he was liable in his own mind.
That had to hurt.
Sloan had seen him head out the front with the police when they’d left, and he hadn’t seen him since, so he decided to take a walk outside first and see if he was down by the gates or perhaps just sitting on one of the benches in the gardens. While the castle was on a cliff and surrounded on three sides by bracken and flowers, beautifully wild, the front offered sculptures and rock gardens and trails through flowers and bushes and even a manicured hedge menagerie. Mr. Green apparently worked hard and certainly earned his keep. But Sloan couldn’t find Emil Roth outside. He tapped on the caretaker’s door and Mr. Green opened it to him, looking at him suspiciously.
“Yeah? You got a problem here? You gotta bring it up with management,” Green said.
“No, sir. No problem. It’s beautiful. I’ve never seen such a perfectly manicured lawn. Yet you keep the wild and windswept and exotic look around the place, too,” Sloan said. “I was just looking for Mr. Roth.”
“He ain’t out here,” Green said. He was an older, grizzled man, lean yet strong, his skin weathered and permanently tanned from years in the sun.
“Then, thank you. And, sincerely, my compliments. You keep this up all alone?”
“Two kids come to mow and hedge sometimes, but… yeah, I do most of it,” Green said.
Sloan thought he might have seen a blush rise to the man’s cheeks.
“I’ve been doing this since I was a kid, over fifty years now. The old Emil—this Emil’s father—hell, everyone was named Emil in the darned family—just opened the place to the public about forty years ago. My dad was still in charge and he taught me. People like greenery. It’s a concrete world, you know? Some people come just to see the grounds.”
“I can imagine. Hey, so how has it been for you? What do you think? I mean, the castle goes way back, but even in the United States, it has a spooky history. The obligatory ghost,” Sloan said.
Green narrowed his eyes. “Sure. All old places have ghosts.”
“You’ve seen something,” Sloan said.
“Naw.”
“I can tell!”
“Sane people scoff at ghosts, you know.”
“Only sane people who haven’t seen them yet,” Sloan said.
“Have you seen a ghost?”
“One or two, I’m pretty damned sure,” Sloan said. “You gotta be careful—because people don’t think you’re sane once you mention the unusual.”
Green nodded in complete, conspiratorial agreement. He lowered his voice, despite the fact that they were alone with no one remotely near them.
“There are ghosts around here. A couple of them. There’s—” He hesitated, as if still not sure, but Sloan stayed silent, watching him, waiting. “—a man in boots and breeches and a black shirt who watches me sometimes. He tends to stay behind the trees, down toward what’s left of the forest to the rear of the property. And as far as Elizabeth Roth goes, I’ve seen her. I’ve seen her often, from the upstairs window. Her room—Elizabeth’s room—it’s the bridal suite now. I guess you’re staying in it.”
Sloan nodded. “That’s us. I’ll watch out for Elizabeth,” he said. “Tell me, has anything ever indicated to you that the ghosts could be—mean? Vindictive?”
Green shook his head. “Naw, in fact… hell, one day I slipped on some wet grass and went tumbling down. It was summer and I blacked out. When I woke up, all dizzy and parched, a water bottle came rolling down to me. Now sure, bottles can roll. But I think John McCawley was there. He rolled that bottle to me. I took a drink, got myself up, and all was well. There’s nothing mean about the ghosts in this place.”