Lockwood & Co.: The Screaming Staircase

darted back and forth between us, taking in our neat clothes and carefully brushed hair, the polished rapiers glittering at our belts, the heavy bags we carried. It lingered long on our faces. She made no move to go past us to the door of the house. Her free hand was thrust deep into the pocket of her cardigan, forcing the fabric down.
    ‘Just the two of you?’ she said at last.
    ‘Just us,’ I said.
    ‘You’re very young.’
    Lockwood ignited his smile; its warmth lit up the evening. ‘That’s the idea, Mrs Hope. You know that’s the way it has to be.’
    ‘Actually, I’m not Mrs Hope.’ Her own wan smile, summoned in involuntary response to Lockwood’s, flickered across her face and vanished, leaving anxiety behind. ‘I’m her daughter, Suzie Martin. I’m afraid Mother isn’t coming.’
    ‘But we arranged to meet her,’ I said. ‘She was going to show us round the house.’
    ‘I know.’ The woman looked down at her smart black shoes. ‘I’m afraid she’s no longer willing to set foot here. The circumstances of Father’s death were horrible enough, but recently the nightly . . . disturbances have been too persistent. Last night was very bad, and Mother decided she’d had enough. She’s staying with me now. We’ll have to sell up, but obviously we can’t do that until the house is made safe . . .’ Her eyes narrowed slightly. ‘Which is why you’re here . . . Excuse me, but shouldn’t you have a supervisor? I thought an adult always had to be present at an investigation. Exactly how old are you?’
    ‘Old enough and young enough,’ Lockwood said, smiling. ‘The perfect age.’
    ‘Strictly speaking, madam,’ I added, ‘the law states that an adult is only required if the operatives are undergoing training. It’s true that some of the bigger agencies always usesupervisors, but that’s their private policy. We’re fully qualified and independent, and we don’t find it necessary.’
    ‘In our experience,’ Lockwood said sweetly, ‘adults just get in the way. But of course we do have our licences here, if you’d like to see them.’
    The woman ran a hand across the smooth surface of her neat blonde hair. ‘No, no . . . That won’t be necessary. Since Mother clearly wanted you, I’m sure it will be fine . . .’ Her voice was neutral and uncertain. There was a brief silence.
    ‘Thank you, madam.’ I glanced back towards the quiet, waiting door. ‘There’s just one other thing. Is there someone else at home? When we rang the bell, I thought—’
    Her eyes rose rapidly, met mine. ‘No. That’s quite impossible. I have the only key.’
    ‘I see. I must’ve been mistaken.’
    ‘Well, I won’t delay you,’ Mrs Martin said. ‘Mother’s completed the form you sent her.’ She held out the buff folder. ‘She hopes it will be useful.’
    ‘I’m sure it will.’ Lockwood tucked it somewhere inside his coat. ‘Thank you very much. Well, we’d better get started. Tell your mother we’ll be in touch in the morning.’
    The woman handed him a ring of keys. Somewhere along the road a car horn blared, to be answered by another. There was plenty of time till curfew, but night was falling and people were growing antsy. They wanted to get home. Soon there’d be nothing moving in the London streets but trails ofmist and twisting moonbeams. Or nothing, at least, any adult there could clearly see .
    Suzie Martin was conscious of this too. She raised her shoulders, pulled her cardigan tight. ‘Well, I’d better be going. I suppose I should wish you luck . . .’ She looked away. ‘So very young! How terrible that the world should have come to this.’
    ‘Goodnight, Mrs Martin,’ Lockwood said.
    Without reply, she pattered down the steps. In a few seconds she had vanished among the mists and laurels in the direction of the road.
    ‘She’s not happy,’ I said. ‘I think we’ll be off the case tomorrow morning.’
    ‘Better get it solved tonight, then,’ Lockwood said. ‘Ready?’
    I patted the hilt of my rapier. ‘Ready.’
    He grinned at me, stepped up to the door and, with a magician’s flourish, turned the key in the lock.
    When entering a house occupied by a Visitor, it’s always best to get in quick. That’s one of the first rules you learn. Never hesitate, never linger on the threshold. Why? Because, for those few seconds, it’s not too late. You stand there in the doorway with the fresh air on your back and the darkness up ahead, and you’d be an