Chapter 9

The Doctor entered the inn and strolled forward. The cozy room was as brightly lit as ever. He walked over to the desk where sat the receptionist. The young man looked up as the Doctor approached.

"Hello. What may I do for you?"

The Doctor opened his mouth to speak but was quickly cut off.

"Oh, you're one of the UNIT people, aren't you? Word is someone was killed at Brightley last night. Is that true?"

"No, it—"

"Seems like someone's always being killed 'round there," he said, shaking his head and tutting.

"Oh? You mean Lord Braxley?"

"No, no. Cor, that was eons ago. No, I'm talking about Mr. Wesley."

"Mr. Wesley? The butler?"

"No, no. His brother. Matthew Wesley." He shook his head and grimaced. "Sad, sad story that is."

"Oh really?" the Doctor prodded, surprised at how easy this information gathering was.

The receptionist leaned forward and lowered his voice confidentially.

"He was the old gardener, see," he prattled. "Hard working man, he was. They say he worked too hard an' that's how he died. Heart gave out, they says. His poor brother grieved something terrible. Blamed the old master, he did."

"Blamed him? Why?"

"Was never too sure on that bit. I only moved here a few months ago." The receptionist smiled ruefully. "Can't say I'm fully up to date on local gossip."

"Well you've helped immensely with our investigation, thank you. But, if you would be so kind – do you know of someone who could elaborate a bit more on this topic?"

He grinned. "Oh, sure. If it's gossip you want you should go ask Ms. Bertha. She knows everyone and everything in this 'ere village."

"And where can I find her?"

"Right next door!" the receptionist grinned, cocking his head toward the large wooden door that led to the pub. "She's the bar lady, she is. Has been for as long as anyone can remember."

The Doctor looked toward the door and mirrored the receptionist's smile. "Thank you very much. I think I'll go talk to her now."

"Alright, you do that. Oh, and while you're at it, tell 'er I'll pay my tab tomorrow."

"I will." The Doctor nodded courteously and then walked over to the door.

The door itself was a bright orange wood and it smelled strongly of years of bar goers entering and exiting with their drinks. As the Doctor opened it the smell hit him twofold. There was almost a haze in the air from the fermenting liquid and a bit of light cigarette smoke.

The pub itself was laid out with elegant simplicity. Booths and tables were interspersed at the front where light from the open windows streamed through. The back of the pub was dimmer and cozier. The bar table stretched almost the length of the pub and a few patrons sat on the stools, stirring their drinks. Behind the table stood a large woman who was presumably Ms. Bertha, obligatorily cleaning glasses. Behind the various liquors a mirror reflected the entire establishment, making it look twice as large.

The Doctor weaved his way through the tables, making his way to the back. He sat on one of the bar stools and waited for Ms. Bertha to finish cleaning her glasses before she approached him.

"Would you like a drink?" she asked, leaning on the counter.

"Actually, no," the Doctor qualified. "I'm with the UNIT investigation…"

The woman laughed heartily. "And they told you to come to me? That's rich. Although I suppose they don't call me 'Blabbin' Bertha' for nothing." She continued to chuckle.

"Yes, well, I was hoping you could help me."

"What would you like to know?" She smiled.

"I was told that a man by the name of Matthew Wesley died at Brightley some years back. Could you tell me about that?"

"Oh, sure. That was back when old Mr. Henry Chatham owned Brightley."

"Chatham? That name sounds familiar…"

"People don't like to talk about Mr. Chatham much. It is a very a weird story." Her eyes flicked out to the pub and then returned to the Doctor.

"Weird?"

"Yes. He was some sort of eccentric scientist. One day he just up and disappeared." She bit her lip. "Police never found the body, but they declared him dead some years ago."

"How strange!"

"Yes, very strange. And it happened only a few months after Matthew's death. Poor old Tom."

"Tom? I assume you mean Tom Wesley?"

"Yes. Everyone agreed the poor boy was a little off his rocker after his brother's death. I'm surprised Mr. Chatham didn't fire him after all the ruckus he made in his grief. Of course, he may not have gotten the chance, seeing as how he disappeared." She took a deep breath. "And that's really all I know on the subject. I'm sorry I couldn't help you any further."

"Oh, no, that's quite alright. Believe me I have… a great many things to think about now." The Doctor turned to leave, then quickly looked back. "Oh! I almost forgot. The receptionist of the inn next door told me to tell you that he would pay his tab tomorrow."

"Oh, that's Mac for you. I guarantee he'll pay me next week at the earliest." She shook her head smiling.

The Doctor smiled back and then finally took his leave. On the way out of the front door of the pub, he caught the eye of one the patrons. The man was staring at him strangely, eyes wide, his glass raised to his lips. The Doctor looked back at him, confusedly, before shaking his head and quickly hurrying out the door.

Even after the Doctor had left the man remained motionless, eyes flicking nervously from side to side. Ms. Bertha looked up and scowled. "For goodness sakes, Edward! If you can't keep your liquor don't come into my pub," she said, scornfully.

"I didn't—I'm not—Did you not see?" he sputtered.

"See? See what?"

"That—that man!" he half-shouted, gesticulating. "He had no reflection!"

So... Haven't updated for a while. Yeah. The truth is school has become really really crazy. Like, insane.

Oh, and that last line? Couldn't resist. Sorry. :)

Amron - That's not important. At all. *shifts eyes*

iPinkNinja - I really love Jo as well! My favorites have got to be her, Sarah Jane, and Tegan.

Bad Wolf10 - Thank you very much!

Primsong - Oh, wow. Thank you so much! I am a huge fan of your stories - especially your 'Custom Vehicle' series. Thanks so much for reading!