Landingham Hill

 LONDON CHRONICLE

HISTORIAN VANISHES AT LANDINGHAM HILL  ------  CURSE OR CONSPIRACY?"

Inspector Charlotte Morgan, better known as Charlie, stared at the newspaper, frowning at the sensationalist headline. As the waitress placed a croissant and coffee in front of her, Charlie couldn't stop herself from muttering, "They'll do anything to sell newspapers these days."

The waitress smiled. "Yes, ma'am. But that castle does have its history."

"You don't believe in that whole haunted castle bit, now do you, Mary?"

"I'm not saying that, ma'am, but you know some strange things have happened there." Mary wiped her hands on her apron and lowered her voice to whisper, "How would you explain Mr. Bell coming up missing?"

Before Charlie could continue the conversation, a loud crash erupted at the far end of the pub. Two men slammed into a table with their fists flying. Glass shattered, and a waitress nearby shrieked.

Charlie shoved through the crowd. "Alright, break it up —"

A young guy, pale and wide-eyed, stumbled backward, clutching something tightly in his hand.

Charlie grabbed his wrist. "What's that?"

The man hesitated. Then, in a shaky voice, he muttered, "He told me to give this to the police — if anything happened to him."

Charlie's stomach tightened. "He — who? Arthur Bell?"

He opened his hand, revealing an old key wrapped in parchment and an insignia ring. He dropped the items in her hand and pushed through the crowd.

Before she could process it, a familiar voice drawled behind her.

"Ah, Inspector. You always find all the fun, don't you?"

Charlie closed her eyes briefly, praying for patience and hoping it wasn't Jack Lexington.

She turned slowly to find him grinning like the devil, whiskey glass in hand.

"Tell me you're not involved in this," she said flatly.

Jack took a slow sip of his drink. "Depends. I've nothing to do with the two knuckleheads trying to bust their heads open, but —" He waved the newspaper at her. "But my current residence is the castle. Poor chap — he was a chatty fellow."

"You met him?" Charlie raised an eyebrow.

Jack smiled. "Shared a drink with him two nights ago. He was telling me about his research. Mighty boring until he got to —"

Charlie grabbed his arm and pulled him to a less occupied section of the Devil's Den.

Jack lifted his arm from the fingers clutching his shirt. "If you wanted to get me alone that much, Inspector, all you had to do was ask."

Charlie glared at him and inhaled sharply. "It had nothing to do with getting you alone. I just didn't want you blabbing evidence to every Englishman within hearing distance."

Looking shocked but amused, Jack spouted, "Evidence? I have no such thing to my knowledge."

"Weren't you about to tell me something Arthur Bell told you? That would be considered evidence."

"Oh, you mean —" Jack hesitated and struggled to hide his laughter. "You mean you wanted to know what Arthur told me? Well, keep in mind he did have a few tankards under his belt."

"Never mind that, Jack Lexington. What did he tell you? Had he discovered something important?"

Laughter danced in Jack's eyes, and he leaned in very close to Charlie's ear and whispered, "He was pretty excited."

"By what? Can't you get to the point?" Charlie snarled.

Jack glanced around the pub and, with a somber tone, he said, "He had a go-around with a shapely little number. According to Arthur, he hadn't seen a woman move like that since he was a private in the army."

Charlie's lips parted. "Oh, you've got to be kidding me. He had a one-night stand with one of the guests?"

"Well. Arthur described it more like a spiritual happening." Jack glanced around and then lowered his voice, "He said she was a ghost."

"A ghost? Were the two of you blitzed out of your minds? There are no such things as ghosts — here or in Landingham Hill."

"Tell that to Arthur." Jack cleared his throat and muttered, "Well. I guess you can't do that now, can you?"

Charlie opened her mouth to retort, but a chill passed through her. She clenched the key in her fist, its cold weight sending an eerie sensation through her fingers. She looked for the young man, but he was gone.

Before Charlie could say anything more, her phone vibrated in her pocket. She pulled it out and pressed it to her ear.

"Inspector Morgan."

A hesitant voice on the other end said, "We found something, sir."

Charlie tightened her grip on the phone. "Go on."

There was a pause before the officer spoke again. "It's a body. At first, we thought it was recent. But — it's not. It's old."

Charlie closed her eyes briefly. "Where?"

The answer made her sit up straighter. "Near the Castle."

And then came the part that made her blood run cold.

"Inspector, we also found something else. A personal item belonging to Arthur Bell."

Charlie exhaled slowly, schooling her features before slipping her phone back into her pocket.

"I have to go," she said abruptly, already turning toward the door.

Jack watched her leave, his whiskey glass dangling from his fingers. His smirk faded slightly as curiosity flickered in his eyes.

Mary approached cautiously. "Can I get you anything else, sir?"

Jack shook his head, but Mary lingered. She glanced at the door Charlie had just exited before lowering her voice. "I don't mean to eavesdrop, but I heard you two talking about the castle."

Jack turned his full attention to her. "That so?"

Mary hesitated before nodding. "People talk about Landingham Hill, you know. That place has a past. Some say it's cursed, others think it's just a pile of old bricks with a few ghost stories to scare off tourists. But there's one tale no one laughs about."

Jack leaned forward slightly. "And what tale is that?"

Mary swallowed. "The bride. The one who roams the halls in her wedding dress. Looking for something or someone. They say she was left at the altar and flung herself from the highest tower. Some believe she was murdered. Either way, she's still waiting. And if you see her," Mary hesitated before lowering her voice further. "They say it means something bad is coming. Real bad."

Jack drummed his fingers against the table, his expression unreadable. "And do you believe in all that, Mary?"

The crime scene starkly contrasted the picturesque landscape of Landingham Hill. The remains had been found near an overgrown section of the castle's grounds, partially buried under tangled roots and damp soil. Crime scene tape cordoned off the area, and forensic technicians worked under the dim, clouded sky, carefully uncovering the skeleton.

Charlie arrived to find the lead forensic investigator, Dr. Evelyn Hart, crouched near the remains. The skeleton, twisted slightly as if the person had died in distress, was mostly intact. Time and nature had stripped away anything but the fragile bones and a few tattered remnants of clothing.

Dr. Hart glanced up as Charlie approached. "We're estimating at least fifty years, possibly older. The cause of death is still undetermined, but there's no immediate evidence of blunt force trauma or gunshot wounds. Could be anything from poisoning to exposure."

Charlie studied the remains. "And Arthur Bell's personal item?"

One of the techs held up an evidence bag. Inside, caked with dirt but still unmistakable, was a small leather notebook—its edges weathered, the ink on the front barely legible. It was Arthur's.

Charlie took the bag, turning it in her hands. "Where exactly did you find it?"

"Half-buried near the skeleton's hand," Dr. Hart replied. "Almost like someone placed it there deliberately."

Charlie's stomach tightened. "Or like he dropped it while running."

The thought sent a ripple of unease through her. If Arthur had been here, had he found this skeleton before he vanished? And if so — what had happened to him?

She exhaled and handed the bag back to the technician. "Get it to the lab. I want a full report on any fingerprints, DNA—anything."

Charlie walked away from the crime scene, her mind racing. She needed answers, and the castle staff might have them. As she made her way down the gravel path leading to the house, a sudden noise behind her made her stop.

Footsteps.

She turned quickly, scanning the empty pathway. The wind rustled through the trees, but there was no one there. Frowning, she took a few steps forward, listening.

Silence.

Brushing off the unease creeping up her spine, she continued toward the house, only for Jack to step out from the shadows near the entrance.

Charlie halted, her eyes narrowing. "Were you following me?"

Jack held up his hands innocently. "Not this time, sweetheart."

She folded her arms. "Then why are you lurking?"

He smirked. "Heard you were heading up to question the staff. Thought I'd make sure you got there in one piece."

Charlie patted the gun holstered at her hip. "This is all I need to keep me safe."

Jack's grin widened. "Then I suppose I'll walk with you so you can keep me safe."

Charlie rolled her eyes and quickened her pace, Jack striding easily at her side, the castle looming ahead.

As they walked, Jack tilted his head slightly, studying her. "So, what did you find at the crime scene?"

Charlie kept her gaze ahead. "A body."

Jack raised an eyebrow. "Arthur's?"

"No. This one has been there for many years, possibly decades."

Jack whistled low. "A skeleton, then? And Arthur's personal item — what was it?"

Charlie hesitated. Sharing too much with Jack meant letting him in on details she wasn't ready to discuss. "Enough to confirm he was there."

Jack frowned. "That's awfully vague, even for you."

Charlie exhaled. "A notebook. His notebook. Near the remains."

Jack let out a thoughtful hum. "So, either Arthur found the body before he disappeared, or someone wants us to think he did."

Charlie's steps faltered for half a second before she resumed her pace. She didn't want to admit it, but Jack had a point.

Jack flashed her a knowing grin. "That means you don't know if he's dead or alive, do you?"

Charlie clenched her jaw. "Not yet. But I will."

Jack opened the door and allowed Charlie to enter the house first, chuckling as he did so. Under his breath, he muttered, "It never crossed my mind that you wouldn't."