Urban Myth by James Raven Page A

woman named Elizabeth Maddox. She lived and died there years ago.’
    ‘There’s an old photograph of her at the house,’ I said. ‘She was apparently the widow of the original owner.’
    ‘Well I shouldn’t worry about it. Nobody really takes all that stuff seriously. And I’m pretty sure that the only scary thing ever to walk the corridors of the manor is Slade himself.’
    I was about to tell him what we had experienced in the house, but suddenly thought better of it. I didn’t want him to think I was another gullible tourist.
    He downed some more of his brandy and carried on. ‘Anyway, a local teenage lad went to the house late one afternoon back in June. He wanted to ask Slade if he could take some photos of the house for a school project he was working on about haunted Burley.’
    ‘Don’t tell me he saw a ghost,’ I said.
    He shook his head. ‘For this boy it would have been less of a shock if he had. You see, Slade opened the door with a live snake around his neck.’
    An image of the adder on the bed reared up in my head and my chest tingled. A wave of questions followed, fizzing and spitting inside me like frenzied bubbles in boiling water.
    ‘It was a grass snake apparently so it would have been harmless,’ Turner said. ‘But that’s not the point. It gave the poor lad a fright because he’s apparently terrified of reptiles. It’s like a phobia with him. So he took to his toes and bolted away from there.’
    ‘Jesus, it must have been awful for him.’
    ‘It was. But Slade got a shock himself a couple of hours later when the boy’s father turned up at his house ranting and raving. I know the guy. His name’s Ned Parker. He went ballistic, calling Slade potty and dangerous.’
    ‘Did Slade explain why he had the snake around his neck?’
    ‘He said he was clearing a nest of them from his back garden. But the father said that was no reason to scare people who called at his house. He wanted a grovelling apology but Slade told him to piss off. That’s when it turned nasty. The guy threatened him with violence and suddenly two blokes appeared from inside the house. They draggedthe father back to his car and told him that if he came back they’d punch his face in.’
    ‘Who were the guys?’
    ‘Nobody knows and when I asked Slade he told me to mind my own business. But according to Ned they were really unpleasant and not from around here.’
    ‘Did he go to the police?’
    ‘Of course not. What was the point? He was the one who started making threats.’
    I took a swig of my beer; felt I needed it. ‘And there was me thinking that nothing much happens in sleepy little Burley,’ I said. ‘Houston is tame by comparison.’
    I then told Ray about our own weird encounter with the adder. His reaction surprised me.
    ‘It’s not uncommon for the little bastards to get into a house,’ he said. ‘Especially if they’re nesting close by. But you were lucky it was dead. Live ones pack a poisonous punch.’
    I stayed chatting to Ray Turner for another half an hour. I had a second pint of beer – on him this time – and the more we spoke the more uneasy I began to feel.
    I was pretty sure he’d embellished his account of Nathan Slade’s behaviour, and probably the story of the snake too, but it was still pretty macabre.
    I left the pub after promising to come back with Nicole later in the week. He was keen to meet her and bring her up to date on what life had been like in Burley since she’d moved to Texas. The village was even busier now. I noticed a couple of TV news trucks parked up in the main street and there were more police officers wandering around. I also spotted a few press photographers and a television camera crew. The girl’s murder had clearly become a major national news story and it was my guess the village had never seen anything quite like it.
    As I walked towards the Black Cat Tea Rooms my mind tried to process what I’d been told. But I really wasn’t sure what to make