Condemned, R.C. Bridgestock [most romantic novels TXT] 📗

so, to enable her to sit a little more comfortably on a cold slate of the hearth, where she began to fantasise that the ghostly shadows were, in fact, the souls trapped in the house, not caused by Davis surveying the corpse in the opening at the back of the fireplace.

All of a sudden Annie noticed a change in the air that felt threatening, and it unnerved her, more so when she began to hear eerie, unidentified sounds coming from the chimney. When she closed her eyes, and hummed a tune in an attempt to shut them out, she swore that she could feel the vibration of the noises floating around her, bouncing back off the walls, and into the tunnel. The sound of Davis swearing indiscriminately at his recording device brought her to her senses, and she told herself sternly that she should refrain from letting her imagination run wild.

‘How’d you know for certain it’s murder, Mr Chevelle?’ she called out towards the tunnel. There was no instant reply, and she shuffled closer to the tunnel where Davis was working, for comfort. Head back to the wall she closed her eyes again, and sighed deeply. ‘Relax,’ she told herself. ‘Just relax.’

‘Like I told the Inspector earlier, it’s not rocket science when the bullet’s in the back of the head,’ the pathologist said, popping his head out to obtain a tool from his rucksack.

Annie chuckled to herself, reassured by his voice, even though his tone mocked her.

With not enough light in the dining room to do anything but continue to wait, she assumed her position with her head against the wall. Closing her eyes she concentrated on controlling her breathing, and on the rise and fall of her chest. ‘Relax,’ she repeated. ‘Just relax…’

Focusing her mind on the ambience of her surroundings, although a bit spooky, her mind once again wandered. She was convinced that if there was a ghost in the vicinity, she would get a sign.

After a few moments of nothing, she opened her eyes. ‘Don’t be stupid,’ she berated herself. ‘You know perfectly well there are no such things as ghosts!’

In that moment, she heard a noise coming from inside the chimney breast. Inquisitive, she moved quickly to peer up the flue, half-expecting to see the sky full of ominous grey clouds rushing past in the howling wind. Peering into the gloom she saw nothing but darkness. Then, with a rush of stones that came rattling down the chimney, a bird appeared, flapping its wings frantically. Instinctively Annie screamed, and covered her head with her hands. Small fragments of debris flew in the young detective’s direction, and she flung herself into the opening of the tunnel to prevent being smothered by the descending cloud of soot. Hearing the commotion Davis backed out of the hole in haste, and then fumbled to help her sprawled figure up from the floor.

With two hands gripping her upper arms tightly, and concern in his eyes, he shook Annie slightly. ‘What in God’s name? Are you okay?’ Convulsed with shock, and fear, with her eyes still screwed-up tightly, Annie found herself nodding her head vigorously, and trying very hard not to cry. When Davis heard a loud screeching he automatically cowered. As its wings flapping violently, the jackdaw flew so close to his face that Davis imagined he felt its feathers brush his cheek. Unsuccessfully, the dark bird tried to land on several unsuitable surfaces, its claws too large to grip anything, before it perched on the top of the door. Its horrible black eyes searched for something unknown.

‘I think the sooner we are done here the better, don’t you?’ Davis said, thrusting a bottle of water in her hand. ‘Trust me, I’m a doctor; sip this, you’ll be fine. I’ll try not to be much longer.’ When he vanished into the tunnel, the bird took flight once more, this time into the hallway.

Eyes on the door, Annie settled with her back against the stone wall. Her nose began to itch, and she blew it violently, in an attempt to rid it of some of the dust. ‘With some luck you’ll uncover the cartridge shell, eh?’ she said to Davis feebly, shoving the blackened tissue deep into her trouser pocket, with a shaking hand.

‘I hope so. Nothing yet although, unbeknown to us, it could well be sitting quite happily inside the skull.’

Annie rubbed her chest. Breathing was uncomfortable, and with each intake of breath panic seemed to rise within her – she coughed, and coughed again harder. A few minutes passed. ‘Can you breathe in there?’ she called out to Davis.

‘Don’t fret, I promise you, a little dust never killed anyone,’ he replied instantly. The tone of his voice told her he was concentrating.

‘If you say so,’ she coughed again, and again. Annie’s throat felt as if a boa constrictor was wrapped around her neck, squeezing her airway shut.

‘Will you do as you’re told, and sip the water I gave you!’ Davis hollered, impatiently.

On hearing the front door close, and the sound of debris in the hallway cracking underfoot, Annie anticipated that the bird would once again soon be making an appearance. But instead of a bird swooping in, the dining room door was slammed shut with a loud BANG! ‘Yikes!’ Annie cried, jumping backwards like a surprised rabbit. Tears blocked her eyelashes, and out of habit, growing up with a mischievous younger brother, she held her breath to keep them from flowing.

‘What the hell?’ she heard Charley shout, as she kicked the door open with force, and a size-six boot. Seeing a dishevelled, cowering Annie, she quickly made her way to her side. ‘What happened?’

Annie’s face turned from the wall to look at her, her shoulders shaking. ‘A bird flew down the chimney and dislodged some debris, no doubt including its nest,’ she said, as she struggled to get to her feet. ‘It unnerved me a bit, then the door slammed! Was that you?’

Charley shook her head. ‘What kind of bird?’

‘A