Page 62 of Whispers at Dusk
“Aye! The café. Leave me with the lass to chat, young Mason, and we’ll be quite fine, I do so swear!”
Della glanced at Mason and then at her watch.
“We’ve thirty minutes left,” he said.
“Thirty minutes it will be,” the ghost promised.
Della found a table and took a chair, noting the spirit of Sir Gordon Stewart had learned how to manipulate his environment—without her help. He wedged a chair near her out enough to allow him to sit. “Now, lass,” he said, “take your phone out and you’ll appear to be quite normal.”
She smiled, doing as he said.
“You know about phones—and people like us not appearing to be so crazy that they lock us up,” Della said.
Her ghost grinned. “Indeed. In the past five hundred years plus, I have learned year by year, and watching man has been...painful and exquisite. Every century brings monsters, and every century brings saints. And if ever I may help put down a monster... Well, I believe that is why I stay,” he added softly.
He hadn’t died as an old man, Della ascertained. He’d been perhaps forty, if that.
“Sir, if I may ask... I had believed the transition was peaceful.”
“Aye, for it was not war that made one country give to another, but simple finances. King Christian, who had created a unified Norwegian and Danish kingdom at the time, granted the earldom to James III because he was broke. He’d offered his daughter, Margaret, in marriage. But rather than summon the promised dowry, the Orkneys—and eventually, the Shetlands—became part of Scotland. I don’t believe Margaret and King James were ever a loving couple, but... Well, the world changes.”
“One hopes,” Della murmured.
“No, I stay because of human monsters,” he said. “As many of us do.”
“Sir?”
“There was a laird here who believed himself above others, though James himself bore the title of earl, as per King Christian! But he took an innocent lass promised to another, and I knew her mother and her father and her youth and... Well, I did free the lass. But the laird and I both fell in the fight that followed. He preyed upon the young and lovely, just as this monster does now. Then for many years, the monster was powerful. Now, while laws in Scotland and England may be a wee bit different just as they are from state to state for you, such behavior would see a monster behind bars. I do not regret my death—I’d go to battle with such a man again. And just a bit ago—1920, I believe it was—I helped capture a rogue who had killed a fine lass and her lad to steal from them. So...here we are. What may I do for you?”
“Help us find him—or them. It may well be more than one killer, and there may be more than one person or couple involved, each on a separate path. In Norway, it was a couple doing the killing and it was strange,” Della told him. She frowned, shaking her head. “They believed it all, the ridiculous tale they’d been told. Enough killing—draining of blood, drinking blood—would lead them to their eternal lives.”
Sir Gordon Stewart didn’t have a chance to answer. Mason returned with a tray bearing two cups of tea, a basket of biscuits and a plate with different cheeses and meats.
The ghost waited for him to be seated.
“Ah, well then. That is the story of humanity. A man—or a woman—chooses what they believe, and fact may matter and it may not. Aye, ’tis tragic what we’re seeing take place and it must be stopped. And I will help in any way. I can’t say I know who might be committing such atrocities, but... I believe that there’s a film group here.”
“A film group?” Mason asked, frowning and glancing at Della.
“They be making a movie, not for the big screen, but for what they’re calling a cable channel. There was a lovely young lady I believe to be the lead in the movie, and she was at the cathedral just yesterday with friends from their makeup department. She was so pleased to see the church. They had permission to work by the great stones...but she was so afraid! Then last night, they had something of a costume party, which I believe is something they’ve been doing now and then. The piece they’re working on ishistorical. Something taking place in the 1800s, or so I believe,” Sir Stewart said. “And with what happened... There was a man among them in a dark cape, but pretending to be something made his friends yell at him. I don’t know what happened then, they all went into the private room they’d taken. I found his behavior quite abominable, too, and moved on down the street to enjoy watching the fleets at the harbor.”
Mason looked at Della. “It’s him,” he said quietly.
“Him? You’ve seen this man. They were filming in Norway?” Sir Gordon asked.
“No, but one night...there was someone in a cape near our lodging in Lillehammer,” Mason said. “I went to find him, but he disappeared when a car came by and scooped him up. Of course, there may be many men with such a cape.”
“Legends!” Sir Gordon said, shaking his head. “We have them here, of course. Me own mother swore the banshee was there as she lay adying. And, of course, we have a blood monster—”
“Baobhan sith,” Della said, glancing at Mason.
“Aye, indeed,” Sir Gordon said. “But...they do come out at night when they’re not filming late. Not legendary monsters, here or there, but the film crew. They move along Broad Street and Main Street, along the harbor haunts, so to say. If ye’re seeking a man in a cape, he may be among them.”
“Thank you,” Mason told him. “We had heard about a café—”
“The new café. Combining the best of Europe and America!” Sir Gordon said. “Aye, and indeed, they have spent time there. I shall watch, I shall!”
Della saw Mason was glancing at his watch. They needed to take what they had learned—for whatever it was worth—back to the others.
