Louise Marley - Why Do Fools Fall In Love?

Halloween - Calahurst

WPC Shelby Roberts had never believed in ghosts. She had never believed in vampires, the Loch Ness Monster or little green men from Mars. But at midnight on Halloween, in a crumbling four-hundred-year-old house, it was incredibly easy to forget what one didn’t believe in and suddenly think of a whole lot of things in which one did.

Yew Tree Hall would have given Wes Craven nightmares, decided Shelby, as she paced the master bedroom, cursing the elderly heating system, which rattled like a smoker’s cough behind the

ubiquitous oak panelling. Every time a colleague downstairs clicked a light switch, the whole house dimmed. And, as an owl swooped amongst the chimneys, screaming like a banshee, the police dogs prowling the gardens began to howl in chorus.

In dire need of a large brandy and a whole packet of Prozac, Shelby would have felt a lot safer armed with a crucifix and holy water instead of her standard-issue police firearm. Particularly as, at that very moment, the bedroom door smashed open behind her, accompanied by a rush of frozen air.

Shelby spun round, swinging her gun up against her shoulder, aiming it into the dark chasm beyond. “Who the hell is that?”

Sergeant Rackham stepped out of the shadows and eyed her balefully. “The technical phrase is, ‘Armed police, stop or I’ll shoot’.”

She quickly lowered her gun before he could see it was trembling. “Sorry, sir. This place has got me spooked.”

“If you can’t hack it, I’ll get someone else.”

“Yes, sir.”

Sergeant Rackham suddenly and surprisingly grinned, floodlighting his Mount Rushmore features. He was the sort of lean, almost emaciated man who would always look good in the dark overalls of the Tactical Firearms Team. Although Shelby sometimes felt he would be better suited to a black Stetson, a pale horse, and a fistful of silver dollars.