Greenhouse Spectres (part 3)

I love this feeling. When everything starts to fit together and finally the mist disappears. The case was beginning to make sense but before I could tell Mr Greenhouse I had to go to the library for there were certain things I wanted to check out. A fact about the architect had struck me. If he had never been proved guilty where did the stolen goods go? It was starting to rain so I ran down the hill to the library. Walking through the big oak doors I was hit by the smell of books, let me rephrase that. Violenty assaulted by the smell. It was overwhelming and frankly shocking, so I resolved to get out of there as soon as possible.When I was kid I had spent a summer learning the dewy decimal system and quickly found myself in the area where the newspapers were kept. Searching through them I found out about how all the conclusive evidence pointed to the church architect and his friends. There was more things about how people didn't like him and then a final article about the fact he had gone missing. So, I thought, as I put the newspapers away, he was a church architect. He had, in fact, designed the local church across the road. I walked out and hurried back to the castle glancing at the church with its large tower and graveyard and stained glass windows which seemed to be casting ghosts amongst men. And then the final veil lifted and all was clear and I knew that if I didn't tell someone the answer soon, I would explode! 

Greenhouse Spectres (part 2)

The next morning, after a dismal breakfast, I went to investigate the balcony where I had witnessed the ghost the night before. There was no sign of disturbance even though, according to Mr Greenhouse, the spectre never moved from this spot. So what to look at first, there was the potted plant, man sized tapestry of some bloke, and plain red carpet. The corridor, which was decorated with pictures and had six windows, was a dead end after the tapestry apart from the potted plant which was in desperate need of hydration. The carpet was to put it plainly, boring. No trapdoors or anything just a normal carpet. The tapestry was rubbish, like it had been thrown together with a scaffolding pole instead of a needle! I decied to investigate the rest of the caslte which told that there were three bathrooms, twelve bedrooms and fourteen dining halls each with their own kitchen. Then I went for a walk around the grounds and looked around the lake. Arriving at a seat underneath a large tree, I looked back at the castle wall where I had seen the ghost with its seven windows and stone walls.
I went down to the village and spoke to some people about it. Basically they said that the spectre was the defender of their rights against the evil thoughts of the dukes that use to live up their, waste of time then. As I sat in the pub stirring a glass of lemonade a clue fell into my mind and everything started to fall into place!    

Greenhouse Spectres

Rain. Why did it always rain? Especially when your on a train. Oh that rhymed! I'm going mad. But anyway here I am on a train to some lost place on the coast of Scotland to investigate some case for my newspaper. Apparently a castle is being haunted, as if, and it has only now come to light.
Three hours later the train pulled into the station, still raining, I stepped off and had a row with a person about buying a holiday to somewhere nicer. Waiting outside the station I got drowned by the now destressingly heavy rain and waitied for my car. After three quarters of an hour waiting I chanced to check my phone where there was a text telling me to find my own way to the castle.
Drenched and feeling humiliated I arrived at the bottom of the castles steps and started to climb. Five minutes later I arrrived at the top and knocked on the door. Oh how I hoped there was someone in! Slowly the door opened, sadly it didn't creak, which would of made it a bit too haunting as it was already what some might describe as neo-gothic with its towering points and creeping ivy.
I walked in and was utterly surprised! Instead of the rotting corpses and dusty stone floors I saw a velvet carpet and polished grandfather clock. Infront of me stood a little old man. In an ancient creaky voice he said "Welcome to my castle!"
The old mans name was Edward Greenhouse. He had a grandaughter called Robin who had lived with him since her parents had died.  After explaining that my name was Gabriel Rathbone and that I worked for the Pavillion Paper we sat down for a phantasmagorial (posh word) meal. As the night drew to a close and the sun began too lower Mr Greenhouse told us the tale of the castles ghosts.
"One hundreed years ago an architect built a castle on this spot. The architect, whoose name we can't remember so we'll call him Bob, had very recently been accused being part of a conspiracy to steal an awful lot of money. He was never proved to be guilty but he disapeared very shortly after building this castle. Well anyway after that very night the spectre appears standing there surveying the castle from that balcony," he pointed up, "and that is the story of our spectre! Now if you shall excuse me I need to close all the curtains." He walked off and I made myself comfy on a sofa beside the table. Looking up at the balcony I thought to myself how interesting it would be to live in a haunted castle. then slowly as I fell into a slumber I noticed a shimmering grey character resting against the balcony. Standing still in the mist I realised, it was the spectre!
To be continued...........