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It started with the headaches.
Duncan woke up with a right pounder. He knew he shouldn’t have trusted Golly to pour the Scotch — the ghillie somehow always managed to stay sober as a stoat while everybody else proceeded to get absolutely pished.
Clutching his throbbing head, Glenbogle’s earnest ranger stumbled through the hallways of the Big House, making straight for the kitchen and its less earnest chef. Lexie was just putting the final touches on an arrangement of mildly burnt drop scones when Duncan wiggled onto one of the stools in front of the island counter. She gave him a cursory glance before doing a massive double-take.
“Y’alright there, wee man? You’re lookin’ a bit peely-wally.”
Duncan blinked at her. “Yeah, I’m alright,” he said. “I think.”
“I haven’t seen anyone with that crackin’ of a hangover since the time Billy the butcher woke up in Jimmy’s goat pen, covered in — well, covered in anythin’ you’d expect to find in a goat pen,” she said, quickly stopping when Duncan heaved.
After a third glance, Lexie hauled the serving tray off the counter and started to make her way toward the dining room. “Hang on a sec,” she called over her shoulder. “I’ll get you a ginger and fry up some eggs as soon as I’m done with this. You must be well sick — you haven’t ogled me skimpy top once this morning.”
Duncan just nodded listlessly in the direction of her retreating back.
In less than twenty minutes, a full Scottish lay in front of him as a concerned Lexie looked on. Duncan raised his fork to stab at the sizzling sausages, but suddenly remembered he hadn’t taken his morning piss. He leapt up without a second thought and vanished down the hall.
No sooner had he returned — wiping hands (cursorily waved under the tap) on his kilt — than he found a completely empty plate, every last bean devoured; smears of yolk streaked the plain robin egg blue ceramic, and nothing but crumbs were left.
Wielding a fury brought on by hunger and throbbing pain, Duncan stomped out of the kitchen to discover Lexie by the laundry lines, hanging up a mountain of bedclothes. He pulled one fitted sheet aside and glared at her.
“Now what’d you go and do that for?” he exclaimed indignantly.
“Do what? What’re you talking about?” she asked, reaching for the next blanket.
“Me breakfast! Why’d you go and eat it?!”
Lexie rolled her eyes. “You’re barmy, Duncan. I didn’t eat your breakfast.”
“Well, I sure didn’t — and now it’s gone!”
“Maybe it was Red Bonnet, his ghostly antics returned to Glenbogle,” Lexie said, a heavy layer of sarcasm coating her words.
Duncan scoffed. “I’m not gonna fall for that Red Bonnet keech again!” he said. “If it was Golly, you could’ve just said so.”
Just then, Archie poked his head around the stone partition. “Duncan, I need you to go pick up those HVAC technicians from the station.”
“The laird fulfils his duties at last!” said Lexie, the sarcasm only growing stronger. “It’s about time we got the central heating fixed and stopped using those heavy shite portable ones. I’m right sick of carrying gas canisters around.”
“Yes, well, heating a veritable castle is no easy business — and certainly not cheap,” said Archie, disappearing back around the wall.
“Alright, boss.” Duncan called after him. He started to run off to bring the Ranger around, kilt flapping in the wind, but stopped suddenly and turned to Lexie.
“You don’t really think it could be Red Bonnet, d’ye?" he asked. "We never did find out who hung that pike on your laundry line the other day, neither…”
“If it wasn’t Golly who ate yer breakfast, it was the dogs,” said Lexie dismissively, turning back to the laundry.
“Sure, sure, but what if—”
“Now, Duncan!” came Archie’s voice from halfway across the drive.
“Right.”
Duncan’s hangover was just as bad the next day, but he hadn’t had a single drink since the Scotch. Was this what getting old was like? He sighed. Golly had warned him; get close to thirty, and things started… changing.
Duncan didn’t like it. Not one bit.
When he traipsed into the kitchen, he found Lexie in front of the oven and his Game Boy on the kitchen counter.
“I told you not to leave that thing on the bunker!” Lexie scolded. “Next time it’s going in the oven with these rowies.”
“It wasn’t me, honest!” said Duncan. “I fell asleep playing it in bed last night.” He picked up the Game Boy and slid onto a stool, nearly missing the seat before recovering. The startup jingle and ding soon followed.
“Then who was it? Red Bonnet again, I suppose?” The rowies were treated to an especially emphatic eye roll, but Duncan wasn’t listening.
“Wait a minute — I couldn’t beat the Toxic Landfill! Why am I at the Doodle Woods now?”
“Another thing to chalk up to Red Bonnet, aye?” said Lexie, slapping a pastry out of Duncan’s greedy fingers.
“What’s this about the Red Bonnet?” Golly appeared at the back entrance of the kitchen and promptly earned his own reaching hand a slap.
“Duncan’s convinced the old heid-the-baw is back.”
An uncharacteristically contemplative look crossed Duncan’s face. “Say, Golly, did you eat my breakfast yesterday? It’s alright if you did, but—”
“Not unless your breakfast was the porridge I cooked,” said the ghillie, his eyebrows up near his greying hairline.
“Told you,” said Lexie, sticking her tongue out at Duncan. “Must’ve been the dogs.”
Golly frowned slightly. “The dogs are at the vet, getting dewormed. Took ’em meself.”
A poignant silence followed. All three stared at each other, the same thought running through their heads.
“We never did find out who strung up that pike…” said Lexie with a suggestive shrug.
The trio found themselves crammed into the staff den that evening, tucked around a fire that offered only so much heat. Wind whistled outside, and a fine mist of rain dripped down the dark windows. A few colourful splotches of autumn leaves plastered against the glass panes was all that could be seen of the outside, and the hearth was the only light within.
Lexie shuddered and drew her blanket tighter about her shoulders, pushing Duncan away when he leaned in close to put his arm around her.
“I can’t believe those HVAC techs still haven’t fixed the heating,” she whinged. “It’s pure baltic in the Big House these days.”
“They came and went well fast yesterday,” said Golly. “Said somethin’ about bearings in the inducer motor failing an’ not having the right ones to replace ’em. But they’ll be out again tomorrow, and all will be right in the world again.”
The company settled into a comfortable lull, allowing the crackling of the fire to fill the silence between them. The wind picked up outside, sounding like a hundred boiling teapots as it found each crevice and crack in the ancient baronial house. With it came heavier rain, lashing against the windows in atonal counterpoint with the wind.
When Golly offered Duncan a tumbler of Scotch, he refused. Lexie, on the other hand, was not so circumspect. She accepted the glass and took a good swig.
“D’ye really think Red Bonnet is one for playin’ video games, though?” she asked, shattering the cosy mood and transforming it to a semblance of the gloomy storm outside. Four eyes fixed on her as she looked from Duncan to Golly and back again.
“What?” she said defensively. “I’m just sayin’ there’s gotta be an explanation for who ate Duncan’s breakfast.”
Golly shifted slightly, bringing the tumbler of Scotch to his lips before he spoke. “Nae,” he said. “You’re not wrong, lass.”
“Then what is it?!” exclaimed Duncan. “I’ve not gone bampot, aye!” But he settled down when Golly raised one hand appeasingly.
“Truth be told, I’ve often thought this, but never spoke of it to anyone,” the ghillie began, his voice low and sure, eyes glittering in the firelight. The sound of the storm crescendoed. “Sometimes it’s a wet footprint here, other times a misplaced treat for the dogs there — but I’m well sure Glenbogle House is haunted.”
Duncan gave a swiftly stifled gasp, but Lexie was unfazed. “Well, if any place is sure to be proper haunted, it’s this place,” she said.
“D’ye think it’s…” Duncan stammered, unable to finish his sentence.
“Who else would it be?” insisted Lexie.
“I think Jamie would’ve really liked your Game Boy, Duncan,” Golly said gently, “having been a teenager and all.”
“Video games are suitable for all ages,” Duncan stated, indignation registering before he fully processed what had been said.
“Oh aye, there’s no denying that,” said Golly. “But Jamie was always fond of his fun.”
“D’ye think Jamie’s back because Archie’s back?” Lexie asked, nearly whispering. A sentimental wave of emotion washed over the room at her words. Of the three, Golly alone had been employed at the time of the incident, but only the most cruelly heartless would be incapable of empathising with a young boy watching his older brother drown before his very eyes — in an attempt to rescue the family dog, no less.
“They were always as close as two brothers could be,” said Golly, his soft words breaking the silence at last.
“Well, what’s the script?!” said Duncan, panic starting to set in. “I don’t fancy a ghost eating all me food and playing all me games — even if he is getting me past the levels I can’t beat.”
Lexie leaned in close. “I have an idea…”
It wasn’t the Scotch — of that, Duncan was now very sure. When he sat up the following morning, it felt as though Red Bonnet were cleaving his head in two with a rusty axe. His entire body drooped from fatigue, due in large part to the fact that he hadn’t slept a wink, for fear of a ghostly visit from Jamie. Every raindrop patter was the tapping of incorporeal fingers, every gust of wind a sigh from spectral lungs. Duncan’s imagination had run rampant all night long.
But his exhaustion was also due in part to the cold or flu he was clearly developing. Duncan plodded down the corridor with slow, lethargic steps. The kitchen was empty when he arrived; Lexie was already serving breakfast in the dining room.
Duncan’s Game Boy stared at him from the countertop.
At least Lexie hadn’t tossed it in the oven as promised. Duncan reached for it out of instinct. His eyes hurt to look at the tiny screen, but if he was lucky, Wario Land would distract him from the utter suffering his body was currently putting him through.
He had no such luck.
“Why, that sleekit tadger!” he shouted.
“What’re you on about now?” Lexie’s voice called from the hallway as she returned from the dining room.
“That wee bastard’s gone and finished the whole game!”
“No need to—” she began, then stopped short when she caught sight of Duncan. “You look like the NHS is about to pull up in a hazmat van and slap a ‘patient zero’ label across your forehead. Go on, get out of my kitchen! I can’t have you contaminating the food and gettin’ everyone sick. On yer trolley!”
Duncan stood and shoved the Game Boy into his sporran, though it took a bit of extra focus to make sure it actually went in. “I could go for a bit of a kip; I’m pure knackered. It’s a bit strange, though — never taken a day off for bein’ sick.”
“Then it’s about time,” said Lexie. “I’ll tell Golly and Archie. I’m sure they’ll be able to cover for ye.”
But a nap was not to be in Duncan’s immediate future. For hours, the HVAC techs’ thumping and bumping echoed the pounding of his head, and even when the noise ceased he still wasn’t able to get to sleep.
He was lying on his back, arms folded across his chest like a corpse, staring at the low wooden ceiling of his room when Archie crept in.
“Hullo, boss,” said Duncan, giving the laird a fright.
“Oh, Duncan, I thought you were resting,” said Archie, laying a hand on his heart.
“Can’t sleep.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. I brought you some tea.” He set a tray down on the bedside table and took a seat next to Duncan’s feet.
“Thanks, boss.” Duncan scooted his legs over to give Archie more room.
“I was just coming to take your portable heater back to storage; it seems the technicians were finally able to fix the central system. Let’s get some fresh air in here — the first few gusts from the vents are sure to be dusty.”
Archie reached across the bed to open the window, but stopped suddenly. “Duncan, why is your window padlocked?”
“I live on the first floor, boss!” Duncan exclaimed with chagrin, shoving himself up into a sitting position. “I gotta protect myself an’ make sure no one can catch me unawares — can’t risk me toorie!”
“Your what?” said Archie, his face contorted in genuine confusion.
“He means his manly bits,” Lexie interrupted from the doorway. “The ol’ banger and two mashes.” She also held a tea tray in her hands — kettle, freshly-baked tattie scones, and all.
“So you mean to say you haven’t opened this window at all?” said Archie, turning back to Duncan.
“Not since I locked it.”
“And when was that?”
“When I moved in.”
“Which was?”
“About three years ago.”
“Right,” said Archie, standing up determinedly. But then another expression crossed his face: one of utter panic. “Right. Everybody out!”
“What?” said Lexie.
“But why?” Duncan whinged. He was feeling as under-the-weather as ever and didn’t feel like moving one bit.
“OUT, I said, OUT!” Archie shouted, a steely edge to his voice. He ushered them out of the room and shut the door behind him. “Do either of you know if we have a carbon monoxide detector?”
“I’m not sure, but Golly will ken where to find one,” said Lexie.
“Right,” said Archie, already striding down the hallway toward the ghillie’s lodge.
In a crack, the entirety of Glenbogle’s half-dozen residents had converged on Duncan’s room. Golly appeared at the far end of the hallway and wove through the tiny crowd — wielding a white plastic handheld device not entirely unlike Duncan’s Game Boy — before stepping into the room.
The device beeped once.
“What does that mean?” asked Duncan.
“It means I turned the detector on,” answered Golly.
“Oh.”
Four beeps.
Silence.
Four beeps.
“One hundred PPM,” said Golly.
“Right,” said Archie, cutting in at once. “Everyone, go and pack only your most necessary belongings. Lexie, make sure everything is secure in the kitchen. Golly, see to the grounds. I’ll call Kilwillie and see if he can’t put us up for a few nights. Duncan… go wait in the Rover — and for God’s sake, don’t let it idle!”
The small gathering began to disperse, muttering unhappily about the inconvenience. As Archie started toward the main hall and its telephone, Lexie turned to Golly and said, “Suppose that explains Duncan’s breakfast.”
“Whaddaya mean?” asked Duncan, the effects of carbon monoxide poisoning exacerbating his already tenuous grasp on logic.
“You probably ate it and just don’t remember, wee man.”
“And the games, too,” added Golly.
“Guess there’ll be no need to catch that ghost, after all,” said Lexie, but no sooner had the words left her lips than Archie spun around and fixed her with a piercing gaze.
“You saw Jamie, too?”