Read Online The Haunting of Maddy Clare by Simone St. James - Free Book Online Page A

something. And I’ll check the recording.”
    “I’m sorry,” I said to them.
    Mr. Gellis raised his head. They both looked at me.
    “I know you hired a woman because the ghost does not like men,” I said. “But I seem to have—agitated her. I know Mrs. Clare wanted to avoid that. Perhaps she won’t let any of us back in. I don’t know what I did, but that’s what has happened. It seems it would have been all the same if one of you had gone in the first place.”
    Mr. Gellis frowned, but Mr. Ryder turned from the window to me. “Miss Piper, it’s been a long morning. We’ll order some food, and I’ll check the recording. Maybe you’d like to take a small rest?”
    “I don’t know,” I said. “I don’t know if I could. But I could freshen up.” A splash of cool water on my face suddenly sounded like heaven.
    Mr. Ryder nodded. “Take your time.”
    As I left them, and made my way slowly up the stairs, there was absolute silence behind me. Neither of them said a thing.
    I went to the washroom on the second floor and washed my face. It felt just as good as I had imagined. On impulse, I pulled off my blouse and sponged myself off with the hottest water the tap would afford, soaking away some of the tension, dried sweat, and—I imagined—fear. Then I looked at my discarded blouse and realized it was scuffed and dirty from my flight from the barn. My skirt was the same.
    I pulled on the blouse again and went to my room. I changed into a soft, flowered shirtdress from my suitcase, my favorite garment, unfashionable but comfortable and easy to wear. Putting it on felt like a hug from a friend. Only a woman can truly understand the feeling of her very favorite item of clothing.
    Comforted, I looked at the bed. Yes, I could likely sleep—butI discovered I was suddenly hungry. Mr. Ryder had mentioned food. Forgoing the bed, I left my room and went back to the stairs.
    I stood on the step for a moment, gathering my courage to continue down. The two men below made me feel a little like a finch in a den of lions; Mr. Gellis, for all his easy ways, was a man obsessed, and Mr. Ryder was simply—all my instincts told me—outright dangerous. There were deep currents between them I could not fathom. I took a moment to gather my courage, and I looked out the window.
    A man stood there.
    I was on the second floor, so he was not close; still, he was close enough. He stood beneath the trees, just where they thinned out at the edge of the woods beyond the inn. He wore a large greatcoat and a wool cap against the damp, and I could not clearly see his face, which was shadowed. But I could discern enough to see he was looking at me. His gaze was fixed directly on my window, and it did not waver.
    My breath stopped. I suppose my nerves were still on edge, for at that moment I truly thought I was looking at another ghost. Were there ghosts everywhere in Waringstoke? But the man put a cigarette to his lips, and I distinctly saw the glaring red of the tip as he inhaled. After a moment he dropped the cigarette and ground it out with his heel in a gesture that made me think of my father so strongly, I could nearly smell the smoky tang of the old hand-rolled tobacco my father had smoked.
    I turned away from the window, still shaken, and continued down the stairs. Who would want to watch the inn? How long had the man been there, in the trees, and what had he hoped to see? I was still pondering it when I came to the bottom of the stairs and heard Mr. Gellis’ and Mr. Ryder’s voices discussing me.The door to the inn’s private room had been left ajar, and their voices were clear.
    “It’s practically criminal, Alistair.” This was Mr. Ryder’s distinctive, rough voice. “You don’t need me to tell you that.”
    Mr. Gellis sounded stiff. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
    “Don’t pull your stick-in-the-arse act with me. I’ve known you too long.” There was a soft clacking as Mr. Ryder, I assumed, did