P.I.E - A Limey Rivalry

Part 11 - An Unravelling Plot

While Ghost and Bryn were proceeding through the undiscovered gloom – endangering their lives and their sanities, Toast accepted his cup of tea that Sophia had been benevolent enough to give him. Toast noticed that it was in an identical posh teacup that he had seen Bryn drinking out of, hours ago.

They were in the lounge. It was one of the most impressive rooms out of the entire house, so far. Toast – despite being raised very wealthy – still had to fight for breath when he had entered.

Although there was a hardwood floor, there was massive, luxuriously elegant, rug that almost stretched across the entire flooring. Sophia had insisted that Toast removed his shoes before he entered, so he imagined it was important to keep tidy. Toast was happy that she had made him discard his footwear; the rug felt absolutely heavenly on his near-bare feet. Toast had considered removing his socks before realising how stupid that would look.

On top of the floor, the rest of the room was just as tasteful. A colossal chandelier loomed overhead. It radiated a brilliant golden light that managed to kindle everything within the living room. It possessed such a presence to the professional ghost hunter. It was like the heart of the estate.

Aside from that, the décor was ruined for Toast when he noticed more painted family portraits. Toast didn't want to be disrespectful, but every person within each painting gave Toast a bad vibe.

He was staring up at one of the family paintings when he was given his beverage of choice. It was the largest painting in the whole room, as well as placed in the centre of it. It would have been impossible to walk in and out without seeing it. The subject of said picture was a particular gargantuan stout man that made an appearance in many other paintings. The man always took the centre of most images he was in. He had a constant disapproving aspect on each of his faces. By the way he looked at the observer of the painting, it was as if the man within the created scene was eternally judging each person that came across the work of arts. In the portrayal that Toast was gazing upon, the man was wearing a coal black suit. It was accompanied with a white shirt and an ebony tie. Nothing about his attire was out of the ordinary considering his clear power and riches. Although, his posture and look on his pudgy face signified a sizable amount of pride. He was standing within a poorly lit room that had little detail compared to the self-centred looking individual.

The man wouldn't have been so fascinating to Toast, if it wasn't for an important detail. Underneath the large portrait were three long marks running up the wall. He hadn't noticed it when he saw the first markings, but Toast had discovered a correlation. The first scratches had also been done underneath a painting. Toast was sure that if he were to revisit the original marks, the podgy man would be staring down disapprovingly at him.

As Toast continued to gaze, Sophia joined him to his right. She looked up at the painting occasionally, but mostly had her attention on Toast.

Toast decided to begin his inspection. To do so, he should begin interrogating Sophia again. "Miss Gumball," he began, to get her concentration, "if you don't mind me asking, who is this man?" He pointed up at the subject for Sophia to see.

"Well," Sophia said slowly, "He's Alexander Gumball. The one that founded the business that led to this estate."

Toast looked back up at the man, giving him a distasteful look. "I'm feeling something odd about him. He, even in a painting, is giving off a threatening evil aura," Toast said bluntly.

Sophia rose an eyebrow. "Well, despite what you may be feeling, should the painting really matter?"

Toast was faintly hurt by Sophia's harshness. Perhaps he'd hit a nerve. "If all the marks are underneath pictures of him, he could be a very important key in unravelling this mystery." Toast took a step toward the wall where the painting hung. "Do you know when and, more importantly, how he died?"

"I'm sure it was lung cancer, or something. Maybe it was asthma. Whatever it was, he had trouble breathing. I think it was in the 1930s."

"Thank you, madam," Toast said, gratified with the answer.

"How is that meant to be helpful, Mr Toast?" Sophia asked, catching on to his satisfaction.

Toast turned to her and leaned onto the wall, placing himself directly underneath the painting. "Well, ma'am, I made sure to memorise your email before setting off, today."

Sophia looked genuinely intrigued, causing Toast to feel a dab of confidence. "If I may quote you: you've been hearing weird noises like moans and heavy breaths," Toast allowed Sophia a moment to understand where he was going before continuing, "and you've had a feeling as though you were being watched." He looked above at the distorted image of Alexander Gumball, whose eyes still seemed to be watching him. Sophia gasped and took a short stride backward, looking directly into the condemning eyes of the dead owner of the mansion.

Toast smirked up at the painting. He felt incredibly high-and-mighty; he had come close to cracking the case by himself. That never happened. Normally, Ghost would come up with the conclusions, or the ghosts would reveal themselves before any of them had gathered enough evidence to guess anything. Now, for the first time, Toast had led his own investigation, found his own evidence and had come up with a perfectly logical conclusion without aid from Ghost. Toast had never felt so jubilant and triumphal.

Sophia watched Toast, while he was on his self-absorbed high. She hadn't considered him as genuine as she had Ghost and Bryn, earlier. He was, for the most part, glued to the wall, waiting for a command from the other two men. Yet, he was now able to crack a case with a few questions answered. She felt ashamed for doubting him.

Toast caught up with himself, beginning to come up with a more solid theory. Alexander Gumball was haunting the place. He didn't have an uncertainty about that, whatsoever. Now, he just needed to know why he would choose to live on as a spirit and how the members of The Gumball Bloodline seemed to never die of old age. This case wasn't closed yet.

Clearing his throat, he looked toward Sophia,who was giving him her whole attention. "Did you say something about a billiardroom, Miss Gumball?"