been scared from the beginning too,” I said.
“I think his apparent confidence is a disguise to conceal a deep insecurity,” opined Graham. “He sucks his thumb in his sleep. I’ve seen him.”
“Does he? I thought he might.” I was pleased to have my suspicion confirmed. “So he’s on the list as well. But low down?”
Graham nodded.
“As for Alice,” I considered aloud, “she’s got a really mean streak.”
“I agree,” said Graham. “But she doesn’t take any trouble to conceal it. And our killer must have an exceptionally devious mind.”
“OK. So Alice is above the other two but below the grown-ups. What about Cathy? She seems nice and straightforward but she didn’t like Isabella and she’s got a crush on Mike.”
“Has she?” Graham asked.
“Yes. Definitely. But does that mean she’d kill his wife?” I wondered.
“Possibly.” Graham nodded. “I’ve always understood that jealousy has a strange and powerful effect on the adult mind.”
“So … she had a motive. What about opportunity? Isabella’s room was on the top floor. Cathy walked with us the whole way back. I don’t see how she could have done it.”
“No,” said Graham, sighing. “And even if she’d wanted Isabella dead, there’s no reason for her to hurt Bruce, let alone Donald.”
“But she was there on the cliffs when Bruce died. She wasn’t down on the timetable to come along that morning, was she? She said she fancied some fresh air. Could she have done something to the rope?”
“It’s theoretically possible,” agreed Graham. “But we’re still stuck as to the question of motive.”
“How about Mike, then?” I asked. “He didn’t seem very happy with Isabella.”
“But it doesn’t follow that he’d kill her,” said Graham. “I read recently that forty-five per cent of marriages end in divorce: you’d have thought a legal solution would have been a lot easier than murder. And even if he did want to do away with her, I don’t see when he could have done it.”
“It’s got to link in with the other things,” I said. “The deaths that happened before we got here.”
Graham’s eyes narrowed. “What deaths?”
“Steve Harris – the instructor Bruce replaced. He had a fatal accident in the shower from what I could tell. And the other night I heard Isabella mention the name Richard – he died in South America, I think. Then she started babbling on about ghosts. She seemed to think it was all being done by an avenging spirit or something.”
Graham’s eyes narrowed sceptically. “Utterly ludicrous!”
“Try telling that to Bruce and Donald. Someone killed them. Or something. It’s got to be connected with the past. We’ve got no choice, Graham. We’re going to have to break in to the office.”
the break-in
We had a long wait. The afternoon and evening seemed to stretch on for ever, but at last it was bedtime. I waited for Meera and Alice to fall asleep, then I swung myself down from my bunk, slipped on my dressing gown and crept out of the room. Keeping to the edge to avoid creaking, I made my way downstairs.
When I got to the office, Graham was already waiting for me. I tried the door handle. Nothing happened.
“Locked,” I said crossly. I didn’t have a clue how to get in. “We could go outside and break the window, I suppose.” It seemed a bit drastic. Someone was bound to hear. Plus I felt a bit nervous about going outside in the dark, no matter how many times I told myself there was no such thing as ghosts. It looked like my grand plan was going to fall at the first hurdle.
Graham hadn’t said a word. All of a sudden he pulled something small out of his dressing-gown pocket and slid it down the side of the door. There was a click; he turned the handle and it swung open.
“How did you do that?” I was dead impressed.
“An old Yale lock is easy to get past if you have the right equipment,” he said, holding up a rectangle of plastic. “I never travel
“I think his apparent confidence is a disguise to conceal a deep insecurity,” opined Graham. “He sucks his thumb in his sleep. I’ve seen him.”
“Does he? I thought he might.” I was pleased to have my suspicion confirmed. “So he’s on the list as well. But low down?”
Graham nodded.
“As for Alice,” I considered aloud, “she’s got a really mean streak.”
“I agree,” said Graham. “But she doesn’t take any trouble to conceal it. And our killer must have an exceptionally devious mind.”
“OK. So Alice is above the other two but below the grown-ups. What about Cathy? She seems nice and straightforward but she didn’t like Isabella and she’s got a crush on Mike.”
“Has she?” Graham asked.
“Yes. Definitely. But does that mean she’d kill his wife?” I wondered.
“Possibly.” Graham nodded. “I’ve always understood that jealousy has a strange and powerful effect on the adult mind.”
“So … she had a motive. What about opportunity? Isabella’s room was on the top floor. Cathy walked with us the whole way back. I don’t see how she could have done it.”
“No,” said Graham, sighing. “And even if she’d wanted Isabella dead, there’s no reason for her to hurt Bruce, let alone Donald.”
“But she was there on the cliffs when Bruce died. She wasn’t down on the timetable to come along that morning, was she? She said she fancied some fresh air. Could she have done something to the rope?”
“It’s theoretically possible,” agreed Graham. “But we’re still stuck as to the question of motive.”
“How about Mike, then?” I asked. “He didn’t seem very happy with Isabella.”
“But it doesn’t follow that he’d kill her,” said Graham. “I read recently that forty-five per cent of marriages end in divorce: you’d have thought a legal solution would have been a lot easier than murder. And even if he did want to do away with her, I don’t see when he could have done it.”
“It’s got to link in with the other things,” I said. “The deaths that happened before we got here.”
Graham’s eyes narrowed. “What deaths?”
“Steve Harris – the instructor Bruce replaced. He had a fatal accident in the shower from what I could tell. And the other night I heard Isabella mention the name Richard – he died in South America, I think. Then she started babbling on about ghosts. She seemed to think it was all being done by an avenging spirit or something.”
Graham’s eyes narrowed sceptically. “Utterly ludicrous!”
“Try telling that to Bruce and Donald. Someone killed them. Or something. It’s got to be connected with the past. We’ve got no choice, Graham. We’re going to have to break in to the office.”
the break-in
We had a long wait. The afternoon and evening seemed to stretch on for ever, but at last it was bedtime. I waited for Meera and Alice to fall asleep, then I swung myself down from my bunk, slipped on my dressing gown and crept out of the room. Keeping to the edge to avoid creaking, I made my way downstairs.
When I got to the office, Graham was already waiting for me. I tried the door handle. Nothing happened.
“Locked,” I said crossly. I didn’t have a clue how to get in. “We could go outside and break the window, I suppose.” It seemed a bit drastic. Someone was bound to hear. Plus I felt a bit nervous about going outside in the dark, no matter how many times I told myself there was no such thing as ghosts. It looked like my grand plan was going to fall at the first hurdle.
Graham hadn’t said a word. All of a sudden he pulled something small out of his dressing-gown pocket and slid it down the side of the door. There was a click; he turned the handle and it swung open.
“How did you do that?” I was dead impressed.
“An old Yale lock is easy to get past if you have the right equipment,” he said, holding up a rectangle of plastic. “I never travel
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