Read Online Cherringham--Ghost of a Chance by Neil Richards - Free Book Online
Authors: Neil Richards
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you are very upset, and—”
“How amazingly observant! You bet I am, Ms. Edwards. In fact — ‘upset’ doesn't begin to describe my current state.”
Grace busied herself in the small kitchen area.
“And do I have something do with that?”
The woman leaned close, looking more like a predatory magpie about to snatch up a chunk of road kill.
“You could say that. You and that big galumph that has been talking to my father — and stupid Crispin.”
“How about you tell me how I can help?”
The woman popped open a black purse that only now Sarah noticed matched the business attire. A sharp click, and a gold clasp released the clam-like purse to open.
The woman pulled out a card.
She extended it to Sarah as if the chunk of cardboard would do more than explain everything.
The cardstock thick. High gloss on both sides.
The company name: Interglobal Hospitality Holdings.
The address in Mayfair.
Nice neighbourhood.
Her title: Executive Vice President.
Which could mean just about anything. Sarah knew that the big global conglomerates could have more “Executive Vice Presidents” than a circus has clowns.
Not a bad comparison, Sarah knew.
Though Mandy Myrtle was — so far — anything but amusing.
“This is the company I work for … consult for. They have money; they have … influence. They are the perfect company to take an interest in The Bell.”
Ah …
“To completely renovate it, restore it to its Victorian grandeur. Make it a world-class destination. At least for those who come wandering out to the ‘cute and cosy’ Cotswolds!”
Sarah nodded. “Sounds like a good plan. Your father must be—”
Another 180-degree head roll, this time punctuated with the woman's hands flying into the air.
“ That is precisely the issue, you see. Crispin is trying to convince my addled father that they will make far more if they just knock it down and turn it into a spa hotel. Something glitzy — and tacky, I might add. Who knows, he may have raised the money already.”
Now it was Sarah's turn to put up a hand.
Grace walked over with the two cups — nearly tiptoeing as if walking through a minefield.
“But won't you all benefit … either way?”
“You’ve seen the hotel, yes? I know Crispin’s game. He’s running it into the ground, so eventually he’ll get a green light to do what he wants.”
“I see.”
Sarah took a sip. Some of Mandy Myrtle's vitriol was starting to make sense.
“Then you two show up, helping him. I imagine he needs to make sure everything’s squeaky clean. So, why not use the local version of Detectives Anonymous?”
No attempt there to moderate her scorn. What a charming woman.
“That — is not helping. He needs to give up his plan, and my father needs to sign on with Interglobal.”
And Sarah guessed that Mandy would get a massive bonus, even a promotion, if she could make that happen.
But then she had a thought.
The woman was fierce. Like a thunderstorm entering a room. Full of bluster and noise — and even threats.
Could that mask the fact that she too would like the place to collapse?
The truth here seemed even farther away.
“You two need to stop . Right now. You can go back to your little webby business here. And your friend to whatever Americans do in their dotage.”
Good thing Jack isn't here.
“I will discuss it with ‘my friend’. Will you be staying at the hotel?”
Mandy Myrtle stood up. “Of course. I have an interest in the place. Have I not made that clear?”
“Crystal clear.”
Mandy Myrtle turned and started for the door out.
It’s going to be a fun time in the hotel tonight.
But Sarah had a question. On a topic that the woman had not raised.
“Ms. Myrtle—”
Hand on the doorknob, the woman paused, barely turning back to Sarah.
“What do you think about the ghost?”
The woman’s hand stayed locked on the doorknob. Her body frozen.
But it was clear that the unexpected question had an effect.
The woman's eyes
“How amazingly observant! You bet I am, Ms. Edwards. In fact — ‘upset’ doesn't begin to describe my current state.”
Grace busied herself in the small kitchen area.
“And do I have something do with that?”
The woman leaned close, looking more like a predatory magpie about to snatch up a chunk of road kill.
“You could say that. You and that big galumph that has been talking to my father — and stupid Crispin.”
“How about you tell me how I can help?”
The woman popped open a black purse that only now Sarah noticed matched the business attire. A sharp click, and a gold clasp released the clam-like purse to open.
The woman pulled out a card.
She extended it to Sarah as if the chunk of cardboard would do more than explain everything.
The cardstock thick. High gloss on both sides.
The company name: Interglobal Hospitality Holdings.
The address in Mayfair.
Nice neighbourhood.
Her title: Executive Vice President.
Which could mean just about anything. Sarah knew that the big global conglomerates could have more “Executive Vice Presidents” than a circus has clowns.
Not a bad comparison, Sarah knew.
Though Mandy Myrtle was — so far — anything but amusing.
“This is the company I work for … consult for. They have money; they have … influence. They are the perfect company to take an interest in The Bell.”
Ah …
“To completely renovate it, restore it to its Victorian grandeur. Make it a world-class destination. At least for those who come wandering out to the ‘cute and cosy’ Cotswolds!”
Sarah nodded. “Sounds like a good plan. Your father must be—”
Another 180-degree head roll, this time punctuated with the woman's hands flying into the air.
“ That is precisely the issue, you see. Crispin is trying to convince my addled father that they will make far more if they just knock it down and turn it into a spa hotel. Something glitzy — and tacky, I might add. Who knows, he may have raised the money already.”
Now it was Sarah's turn to put up a hand.
Grace walked over with the two cups — nearly tiptoeing as if walking through a minefield.
“But won't you all benefit … either way?”
“You’ve seen the hotel, yes? I know Crispin’s game. He’s running it into the ground, so eventually he’ll get a green light to do what he wants.”
“I see.”
Sarah took a sip. Some of Mandy Myrtle's vitriol was starting to make sense.
“Then you two show up, helping him. I imagine he needs to make sure everything’s squeaky clean. So, why not use the local version of Detectives Anonymous?”
No attempt there to moderate her scorn. What a charming woman.
“That — is not helping. He needs to give up his plan, and my father needs to sign on with Interglobal.”
And Sarah guessed that Mandy would get a massive bonus, even a promotion, if she could make that happen.
But then she had a thought.
The woman was fierce. Like a thunderstorm entering a room. Full of bluster and noise — and even threats.
Could that mask the fact that she too would like the place to collapse?
The truth here seemed even farther away.
“You two need to stop . Right now. You can go back to your little webby business here. And your friend to whatever Americans do in their dotage.”
Good thing Jack isn't here.
“I will discuss it with ‘my friend’. Will you be staying at the hotel?”
Mandy Myrtle stood up. “Of course. I have an interest in the place. Have I not made that clear?”
“Crystal clear.”
Mandy Myrtle turned and started for the door out.
It’s going to be a fun time in the hotel tonight.
But Sarah had a question. On a topic that the woman had not raised.
“Ms. Myrtle—”
Hand on the doorknob, the woman paused, barely turning back to Sarah.
“What do you think about the ghost?”
The woman’s hand stayed locked on the doorknob. Her body frozen.
But it was clear that the unexpected question had an effect.
The woman's eyes
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