Read Cherringham--Ghost of a Chance for Free Online Page B

Stover.
    “Service has started for lunch and we’re short-handed. Help out, will you?”
    “Course, course, no worries,” said Stover.
    Jack watched and waited as the assistant manager wrapped up his sandwich in foil, grabbed his wrinkled jacket from the back of his chair and scurried out of the room.
    “Nice to meet you, Paddy,” called Jack pleasantly. “Catch you later.”
    He smiled at Crispin Myrtle, but the man didn’t smile back.
    “We need to talk,” he said.
    “We certainly do,” Jack said.
    “Follow me.”
    Crispin turned on his heels and went out.
    Guess I could be here forever waiting for the word ‘please’, thought Jack.
    So he followed after.

8. Meet the Real Boss
    Jack sat opposite Crispin Myrtle in the small office behind reception and waited while he finished an email.
    The man hadn’t said a word, just nodded towards the chair when Jack had entered, then sat down and carried on typing as if he hadn’t just pulled Jack from Paddy’s ‘office’.
    Message received loud and clear, thought Jack. But I’ve got all the time in the world.
    At last Crispin pushed the keyboard out of the way. Jack watched him lean back in his executive chair.
    “Let’s get some things perfectly straight here, Mr. Brennan,” he said.
    Jack waited.
    “Whatever ‘deal’ my father may have made with you, he acted without authority. I write the budgets here at The Bell, and I manage them. My father is to all intents and purposes a non-executive director. So if you think you’re going to walk out of here with some kind of consultancy fee you’ve got another thing coming.”
    “We’re not expecting any kind of payment, Mr. Myrtle.”
    “And this ghost nonsense has got to stop. If I hear that you — or your partner — have uttered a single word about ghosts in this building I will instruct my lawyers. Do you understand?”
    “We’re not here to find a ghost.”
    “No? Really? So why are you here?”
    “We were told that there might be some problems for the hotel after the accident. We were asked to help find out how it happened. You clearly don’t want that help. So I’ll go.”
    Jack got up, turned, and headed for the door.
    “Wait,” said Crispin. “Hang on …”
    Jack ignored the request, opened the door, and walked past reception, across the lobby and out through the front doors.
    He was half way down the front steps when he heard the doors open behind him.
    “Mr. Brennan.”
    Jack stopped and turned to see Crispin Myrtle standing at the heavy front doors. He watched the manager descend the steps and stop in front of him.
    “Okay. I think I need to apologise,” he said, running his hand through his hair.
    Jack stared, saying nothing, waiting.
    “What I mean is … um … I’m sorry. I was hasty. Rude.”
    “You were,” said Jack.
    “This whole ghost nonsense. It’s blown up out of all proportion. I’ve got Health and Safety coming any minute to inspect the bloody ceilings. Insurers are sending surveyors. Wedding at the weekend wants to cancel. Half the dinner guests want their money back. And that bloody old magician’s blocking one of my best rooms.”
    Crispin shook his head.
    Not a happy camper, Jack thought.
    “And that’s not counting the local paper want to do a feature on the ghost of Cherringham.”
    “Quite a lot on your plate,” said Jack.
    “Exactly. And I must admit — I thought you were another problem. For which — again — let me say I am sorry.”
    Jack watched him carefully. The man was stressed, edgy. But he seemed sincere.
    Or he was a good actor?
    “Okay,” said Jack. “Apology accepted.”
    “Thank you,” said Crispin. “So what happens now?”
    Jack shrugged. “That’s up to your father.”
    “And what exactly is it he’s asked you to do?”
    “Find out what happened. Did it have something to do with this ghost?” said Jack.
    “There is no ghost.”
    “Exactly,” said Jack. “Which kinda begs the question of who dropped the chandelier on