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The Axeman of Manslaughter Mansion
The Axeman of Manslaughter Mansion
The Axeman of Manslaughter Mansion
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The Axeman of Manslaughter Mansion

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A rock band with a problem. A house haunted by the past. A mysterious black mist.

Hearing one of their favourite musicians is living in Skeleton Cove, 12-year-old Jeff and his pal Suzi set out to meet him. But the house where Fast Eddie Findlay is staying has an ominous past. When Fast Eddie and his band start acting weird, Jeff and Suzi are keen to find out why. But a mysterious black mist brings back scary memories for the mystery-loving pals...

THE AXEMAN OF MANSLAUGHTER MANSION is book #3 in this scary adventure series. If you like Goosebumps, you'll love Skeleton Cove! Download your copy of The Axeman of Manslaughter Mansion now.

LanguageEnglish
PublisherColin Garrow
Release dateMar 9, 2023
ISBN9798215022771
The Axeman of Manslaughter Mansion
Author

Colin Garrow

Colin Garrow grew up in a former mining town in Northumberland. He has worked in a plethora of professions including: taxi driver, antiques dealer, drama facilitator, theatre director and fish processor, and has occasionally masqueraded as a pirate. All Colin's books are available as eBooks and most are also out in paperback, too. His short stories have appeared in several literary mags, including: SN Review, Flash Fiction Magazine, Word Bohemia, Every Day Fiction, The Grind, A3 Review, 1,000 Words, Inkapture and Scribble Magazine. He currently lives in a humble cottage in North East Scotland where he writes novels, stories, poems and the occasional song.

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    Book preview

    The Axeman of Manslaughter Mansion - Colin Garrow

    The Axeman of Manslaughter Mansion

    By Colin Garrow

    Distributed by Smashwords

    Copyright 2023 Colin Garrow

    Smashwords Edition, License Notes

    This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favourite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

    for Calum Jack

    Contents

    Chapter One

    Chapter Two

    Chapter Three

    Chapter Four

    Chapter Five

    Chapter Six

    Chapter Seven

    Chapter Eight

    Chapter Nine

    Chapter Ten

    Chapter Eleven

    Chapter Twelve

    Chapter Thirteen

    Chapter Fourteen

    Chapter Fifteen

    Chapter Sixteen

    Chapter Seventeen

    Chapter Eighteen

    Acknowledgments

    Books by this Author

    Connect

    About the Author

    Chapter 1

    By the time they were due on stage, Suzi and I were already bopping around, flinging our arms in the air and whooping along with the crowd. When the lights went down at seven-thirty, everyone jumped up, yelling and stamping their feet. Dry ice rolled across the stage, spilling over the edge like something you’d see in a horror movie. Through the gloom, the shadowy forms of the band members walked to their places. Amplifiers buzzed and crackled as they plugged in their guitars. For a moment, the crowd fell silent, the atmosphere throbbing with energy. A spotlight flashed over Sticks McGinty as he went straight into his signature intro—four beats on the snare and a mighty thump on the tom-toms. The lights came up and Fast Eddie Findlay launched into the three-beat bass line for Medicine Maniac—do-do-dee-dee-doody…

    And they were off, Crazy Charlie’s fingers flying into the legendary guitar solo that had earned him his nickname, while Fast Eddie crossed to his microphone and began to sing.

    And that’s when the whitish fog of the dry ice began to change colour. It became black and thick and stank of something rotten. I stared at Fast Eddie and Crazy Charlie. Their faces had contorted, their mouths wide and snarling as if their jaws might break open. The black mist thickened into huge shadowy clouds, gushing off the edge of the stage. It rose upwards as if able to move of its own accord, pouring over the heads of the audience, engulfing them like some sort of alien force. People near me began to cough and splutter, then someone screamed, and I knew that what had started a few days earlier had come back—with a vengeance.

    Chapter 2

    Seven days earlier…

    Of course, we already knew all about Fast Eddie Findlay and the Doctors of Death. Or at least, Suzi Q and I did. See, the previous summer we’d been lucky enough to see a documentary about the band at the Skeleton Cove Film Theatre. We loved the town’s old Art Deco picture house, and even in the winter months when the heating system hardly ever worked, it didn’t put us off. The staff were great, too—particularly the usherette, Peggy Lemon, and the wily old projectionist, Mr McTaggart. (He’d helped us out on our two previous adventures—you know, the ones about the Demon and Calico Jack.)

    Anyway, the documentary had been filmed during the band’s final tour three years earlier, and as we’d never had the chance to see them live, we had no intention of missing it. The night we went, the cinema had only sold about thirty tickets, and as grown-ups didn’t appreciate the band’s particular musical style, most of those sold were to our mates from school. But, so long as we had our popcorn and our bottles of Kooky Kola, and our usual seats in the third row, we didn’t mind at all.

    The film showed the members of the band playing and talking about themselves, rehearing their songs and performing during a tour of Europe. We also knew they’d had another singer who performed with them a few years previously—when they were still called The Mad Axemen—but it seemed the band didn’t want to talk about him. Since then, we’d heard about the three remaining members splitting up due to musical differences. As far as we knew, they’d all gone their separate ways. Which is why we got so excited when Mr Beaumont told us about the festival.

    That day, Friday, it’d been really hot and Beaky Beaumont had allowed us to take off our jackets and school ties. Fat Bob had even taken off his trousers, but as he’d switched seats with Harriet Slackbottom in the back row, Beaky hadn’t noticed.

    ‘As you are all well aware,’ Beaumont started, ‘the Skelton Cove Festival is on this weekend…’

    A whoop went up from Idle Billy and Jimmy Brick, earning them a vexed glare from Mr Beaumont.

    ‘Thank you, gentlemen—see me afterwards for an especially difficult homework assignment…’

    Another less enthusiast whoop from the lads.

    ‘The subject’s title is why-I-must-not-act-like-the-village-idiot-in-class, or something along those lines.’ He gave them a withering smile. ‘But to continue, the school will be represented at the festival by members of this very class.’ He paused for effect, giving everyone’s grins time to take a downward turn. ‘You will also have the opportunity to listen to the no-doubt tedious speeches given by the Mayor, the Honourable Lady Warrington-Smythe and some chap named Edward Findlay—’

    ‘You what?’

    The words were out of my mouth before I’d even had time to realise Beaumont hadn’t stopped talking.

    ‘Excuse me, Mr Starkey,’ he said, fixing me with his beady eyes. ‘Am I mistaken, or did you intend to interrupt me mid-flow?’

    ‘Sorry, sir,’ I muttered. ‘But…’ I trailed off.

    ‘But what?’

    ‘Well, I just wondered if you meant Fast Eddie Findlay.’

    Beaumont sighed. ‘I see. And I suppose he is one of those insipid non-entities in the world of show business, or some such.’

    ‘He’s the bass guitarist with The Doctors of Death,’ I said. ‘Or he was, until they split up.’

    ‘Doctors of Death. Yes. That explains why I’ve never heard of him.’ He looked at the printed leaflet in his hand. ‘Ah yes, Edward Findlay, musician turned philanthropist. Blah blah blah…donations to the town’s heritage museum…blah blah blah…Skeleton Cove Lifeboat fund…blah blah blah…charitable endowments.’ He sniffed. ‘Well, he doesn’t sound too bad.’

    ‘But what’s he doing in Skeleton Cove, sir?’ This from Suzi.

    ‘How on earth should I know?’ said Beaumont. ‘I suggest when you and Jeffrey finish your stint on the school cake stall, you can go and ask him.’

    Fat Bob’s hand shot up. ‘Did you say cake stall, sir?’

    ‘I did, Robert, and I’m so glad to see you volunteering your time along with Jeff and Suzi.’

    ‘Oh, sir, I didn’t mean…’

    ‘Silly sod,’ muttered Jimmy Brick.

    ‘Ah, and you too, Mr Brick. Many thanks. So thrilling to see young people giving up their free time to support the school. Make sure the four of you report to the festival organiser’s tent before the event opens to the public in the morning.’

    I stifled a groan. No-one wanted to go to the Skeleton Cove Festival, mainly because of the town brass band who always played the same three tunes while marching around the bandstand, and the tedious speeches given by visiting politicians and dignitaries from the council. Sure, there’d be stalls, Punch and Judy shows, jugglers and displays of country dancing, but as most of the acts were amateurs, they were rarely what you’d call entertaining. It seemed that Suzi, Fat Bob, Jimmy and I would be stuck behind the cake stall all afternoon raising money for the school trip to Skegness. But I couldn’t help wondering if there might be another reason we’d been picked for this ‘assignment’.

    As these thoughts paraded through my head, the bell rang, indicating the end of classes for the day. By the time I’d packed up my things, everyone except Suzi and Mr Beaumont had scarpered. Suzi gave me one of her anytime-you’re-ready looks, but when I glanced up at our teacher, I saw a familiar glint in his eye. Being a member of the Ministry of Protection, Beaumont’s responsibilities in Skeleton Cove amounted to a lot more than teaching. As he closed the classroom door, I sensed he had something more important in mind than selling cakes at the festival.

    ‘I’m sure you’ve already guessed I’d like you two to do a little more than simply run the cake stall on Saturday.’

    ‘I bet you want us to keep an eye on the Mayor,’ said Suzi. ‘My dad says he’s really dodgy.’

    ‘Indeed he is, but that’s not the issue.’ He tapped a finger on his desk as if considering what to tell us. ‘This Fast Eddie chap you mentioned, Jeff…’

    ‘You’re not saying he’s the dodgy one?’ I said.

    ‘It’s not the man himself we’re concerned about. It’s his house.’

    I looked at Suzi. She looked at me.

    ‘I thought he lived in London,’ I said.

    ‘He did,’ said Beaumont. ‘At least, he did until last week.’ He paused. ‘It appears he’s bought Manslaughter Mansion.’

    Suzi’s mouth dropped open. Mine dropped further.

    ‘Flipping heck,’ I said. ‘Is he totally mad?’

    Suzi leaned across Beaumont’s desk. ‘Doesn’t he know what happened there? Didn’t anybody tell him?’

    ‘If he didn’t know before, I’m sure he’s been informed by now—the agency dealing with the sale would be obliged to disclose the history of the place.’

    ‘So, what d’you want us to do?’

    Beaumont rubbed his chin. ‘I wasn’t aware you two were fans of Fast Eddie’s music, but it should work in our favour. I’d like you to make friends with him, enthuse about his records and so on. See if you can find out what he’s up to.’ He shrugged. ‘Which may of course be nothing. But that house…’

    ‘Maybe we could get a look inside,’ said Suzi, her pale-blue eyes lighting up.

    Beaumont waggled a finger at her. ‘I don’t want you going into that house alone. If he should invite you in, make some excuse. Or take a few of your pals with you. And don’t go there at night. And—’

    ‘I think we get the idea,’ I said, trying not to sound condescending.

    Beaumont nodded. ‘Right. I’ll see you tomorrow. Mrs Hunter will use the school minibus to deliver everything you need for the stall. Be

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