A Haunting of Ghosts

by Edward Kendrick

  Everyone agreed and headed to their rooms after dousing the candles.

  “This is definitely different from what we’re used to,” Gene said when he and Van were curled up in bed.

  “Consider it a big adventure,” Van replied.

  “Uh-huh. If you say so.” He looked serious as he said, “We will stay, even if Mike can prove it was Oliver who killed us.”

  Van nodded. “Yes. If they can, so can we. It’s got to be more fun here, no matter what, than floating around on some cloud, playing a harp.”

  Gene snorted. “That’s presuming we end up in Heaven, not in Hell, or wherever it is the dead go when they’re, well, dead.”

  “True. At least here we can pretend we’re still alive, once we get the hang of moving and using things.”

  “Which isn’t a bad thing, all told,” Gene replied, giving him a kiss, which Van returned. “If we could have sex, too…”

  “Yeah, that I’ll miss, but if the other guys can survive without it, I think we can, too, damn it. I’ll still love you and always will, no matter what.”

  “I love you, too. You know that.”

  “I do,” Van replied smiling softly at Gene—his partner in all the ways that counted, before and after death.

  They kissed again before drifting off to sleep.

  * * * *

  “James Oliver,” Mike said when he and an officer came over to Oliver in the garage Thursday afternoon. “You are under arrest for the murders of Vance Acker and Gene Norton.”

  The arrest was precipitated by two things. The forensics expert had found traces of gunshot residue between the inside and outside panels of the driver’s side door. That had given Mike what he needed to get a warrant from a friendly judge to search the car and Oliver’s home. He had gone to the garage, as the man was at work, to serve the warrant. For a moment, Oliver had seemed nonplussed. Then, rather smugly, he said, “Have at it. You ain’t going to find anything,” and gave Mike the keys as if he hadn’t a care in the world.

  “Guess he thinks he’s smarter than the police,” an officer said an hour later when he came up from the basement of Oliver’s house. He showed Mike a pistol in an evidence bag. It was, he said, a Glock 37, .45 ACP. “It was hidden in a recess he’d obviously made in the back of his workbench, which sits against the rear wall under a tool board. My bet is he didn’t realize moving it left faint marks on the floor. Or if he did, he didn’t care.” He took Mike down to show him.

  “Get the gun to ballistics so they can run tests. I want to know if it’s the one that killed Acker and Norton,” Mike told him.

  Ballistics confirmed it was the gun used in their murders. On a hunch, Mike asked them to see if there was a ballistics report on file for the bullet that had taken Irene Gibbs’ life. He resisted cheering when they called back half an hour later to say there was and that the rifling twist on that bullet matched the ones found in Van and Gene’s bodies.

  “So we have him for Irene’s murder, too,” Mike told Lieutenant Price, his superior, after filling him in on what they’d found.

  “Very good,” Price said. “Although it pisses me off that the gun wasn’t found during the investigation of Ms Gibbs’ murder.”

  “According to the investigating detective’s files, he didn’t live in the house when she was killed. I checked the ownership records and found out it belonged to his parents. They sold it to him when they retired and moved out of state. My guess is, he hid it while they still lived there, obviously without their knowledge, and probably never touched it again until he found out Acker and Norton were going to write about her death.”

  “And panicked,” Price replied. “My suggestion would be to pick Mr. Oliver up for the Acker-Norton murders and save the information about the gun’s connection to Ms. Gibbs’ murder as back-up when you need it.”

  Mike took his advice. Oliver’s instant reaction when Mike told him he was under arrest was not unexpected, given the kind of man he was. He bolted for the exit at the back of the garage.

  After a brief chase, Mike and the officer caught and cuffed him. Feeling a tad spiteful, because foot chases of suspects pissed him off, Mike said, “We’ll add resisting arrest to the list of charges against you.” Then he read Oliver his Miranda Rights before taking him to jail.

  * * * *

  “Of course he lawyered up,” Mike told Sage as soon as he got home and let him know what had happened.

  “Big surprise,” Sage muttered. He called Brody to give him, and the other ghosts, the news. “They were suitably happy,” he said when he hung up. Closing the distance between him and Mike, he wrapped his arms around Mike’s waist. “So am I. We have the rest of the night all to ourselves for the first time in what seems like forever.

  Mike showed his agreement by kissing Sage quite thoroughly before suggesting they eat dinner and head to bed, “To celebrate.” They did, quite successfully in both their opinions.

  * * * *

  “So that’s that,” Brody said to Van and Gene after the call from Sage. “You’re free to move on.” He looked at them in question. “So why aren’t you disappearing, now that you can? You should be.”

  “Hell, shouldn’t it have happened as soon as Mike had the proof Oliver killed them?” Jon said.

  Gene looked at Van, smiling, then said, “We felt the tug and resisted.”

  “Mightily,” Van added with a grin. “After all, we still have some unfinished business here.” He shot a glance a Jon.

  “Why didn’t you say something?” Tonio asked them.

  Van shrugged. “We figured we’d wait until Sage or Mike called to let you…us…know officially, and surprise you.”

  “You don’t have to stick around on my account,” Jon said.

  “Yeah, we do. We want to help you, since you and everyone else helped us.”

  Tonio grinned. “And then there were six. Hmm. If there are coveys of quail, and a group of crows is call a murder, what does that make us? A haunting of ghosts?”

  Everyone laughed when Kurt smacked Tonio’s ass, telling him to behave.

  “Hey, it works,” Tonio protested, getting amused nods of agreement from his friends.

  Chapter 5

  Van and Gene decided to take Friday for themselves and explore the area around the barn and beyond. Thus, a couple of hours after they started out, they were wandering through a small town several miles from where they’d begun. When they passed a diner, Van saw a TV through the window. He would have ignored it if his and Gene’s photos weren’t on the screen behind the anchorwoman.

  He pointed it out to Gene and they drifted in through the window, arriving in time to hear the woman say, “With the arrest of James Oliver for their murder, the police have officially closed the case. According to Gene Norton’s parents, there will be a combined memorial service for the men a week from today in Mr. Norton’s hometown.”

  “How do you rate?” Van asked, shaking his head.

  “You know my folks. It’s their way or the highway.”

  “Yeah. No kidding. Do we want to go to it?”

  “I don’t,” Gene replied adamantly. He chuckled. “It could be fun if we could show ourselves and scare the bejesus out of Mother and Dad, but that’s not happening. Besides which, how would we get there? I don’t think our flying skills are up to it.”

  “Sneak on a plane?” Van said as they drifted out of the diner. “Possible, probably, but I’m with you. The last thing I want to do is listen to people we barely know extolling our virtues because we were famous—” he made finger quotes, “—authors whose books they probably never read.”

  “I bet by this time every bookstore that carries them had jacked up the price because we’re dead.”

  “Naw,” Van said. “That only happens with artists. Unless, of course, they have some of the books we autographed during one of our tours. Then, yeah, they’re making a fortune off them.”

  “And we don’t get a cent. Bummer.”

  Putting his arm around G
ene, Van replied, “What would we do with the money anyway, at this point? We don’t eat, or drink. We can’t go out carousing. Well, we could, but what fun would that be?”

  “Got me, since we never did it to begin with. ‘Homebodies were us’ except for the occasional movie or art show.” He chuckled. “And now, we don’t even have to pay to go to movie.”

  “The one perk to what we are, I suppose,” Van said somewhat morosely.

  “There is at least one other. We have friends now who like us for ourselves, not because we’re semi-famous. I’ll take that over the sycophants any day.”

  Van smiled, stopping to kiss him. “Yeah, me, too. So let’s get back home and find out what mischief they’re up to. Tomorrow, we’ll see what we can learn about Jon’s murder, and take it from there.”

  * * * *

  Mike had been as good as his word. Before leaving work on Friday, he retrieved Gene and Van’s laptops and phones from the forensics investigator who had gone through them. The man hadn’t found anything on them relating to the murders, so they didn’t need to be kept as evidence. He had no problem with Mike ostensibly returning them to where he’d gotten them.

  Soon after he arrived home, Mike and Sage dug Sage’s old desk out of the basement, cleaned it up, and found a place for it in their home office. Then Sage called Brody to let him know Gene and Van were welcome to come by any time to work on their project, as long as it was during the day when Sage and Mike were at work.

  “Not that we don’t like company,” Sage said. “But we also like our personal time together, so if they need to work in the evenings they have to let us know.”

  Brody laughed. “And they have to leave before nine, so you and Mike can spend some of that personal time in bed?”

  “Ab-so-lute-ly,” Sage replied. “I presume you’ll be coming with them, since they can’t work their phones or laptops, yet.”

  “Yeah. I just have to keep Jon from coming too. I’m not sure it will be good for him to have to relive everything, even though it happened quite a while ago.”

  “I’m not certain I agree,” Sage said. “He’s the one with the most intimate knowledge of what happened. With Gene and Van’s prompting, once they get that far, he might remember things that he didn’t during the original investigation. It’s up to you, though.”

  “No, it’s up to him,” Brody replied after a thoughtful pause. “I have no right to tell him how to live his life. Make suggestions and let him know how I feel about it? Yes. Tell him he can’t be involved? No.”

  “Spoken like a man who knows the true meaning of loving someone without trying to smother them.”

  Brody chortled. “I’m learning, Sage. I’m learning.”

  “Aren’t we all?”

  * * * *

  “What do you mean you don’t want me to come with you?” Jon asked, trying to rein in his temper. “This is my death we’re talking about.”

  “I know that,” Brody replied calmly. “But I think you reliving it might not be the best idea.”

  “You think I don’t do that every day? Look at me, Brody. It’s pretty damned obvious it happened.” He stalked across the field outside the barn—where they’d gone so they could talk in private. Whirling around to look at Brody again, he said, “If I’m with them when they’re going over everything and…whatever it is they do, I might see something we missed. You know you’ll be looking, while you’re helping them by working on their laptops. Between us…”

  Brody smiled. “Exactly what Sage said.”

  Jon harrumphed. “He’s on my side and you’re not. I don’t think I like that idea at all.”

  “I’m worried about you and how this could affect you.”

  “Don’t be. I’m an adult, in case you haven’t noticed. If we get lucky, they will figure out which guy killed me. If they don’t…well, I’ll be no worse off than I am now, right.”

  “Stuck here when you could—”

  “Don’t even go there,” Jon interjected, walking back to where Brody was standing. “I’m not leaving you and neither of us is going to abandon our friends, who seem to like it here, God only knows why.”

  “Because we have each other,” Brody replied, taking his hands. “If we move on we might not see each other again. So, I suppose if you’re determined to be in on this, I’m all right with it.”

  Jon gazed at him for a long moment, then smiled. “You were all along, weren’t you?”

  “Yes…and no. I meant it. It could be hard on you. That said, you’ve got what it takes to handle it.”

  “I do, I think. If it does hit me hard somewhere along the line, I have you to help me get past it. What more could I want than that?”

  “A steak dinner with all the trimmings?” Brody grinned.

  “Yeah, that would be nice, but it’s not happening so I’ll take what I have. You—” he gave Brody a kiss, “—and good friends who understand what being dead is like and accept it.”

  Brody returned the kiss before saying, “It’s late. Let’s get some sleep. I’ve got the feeling Van and Gene will be chomping at the bit to get started first thing in the morning.”

  “They aren’t the only ones,” Jon replied as they returned to the barn.

  * * * *

  “One thing,” Gene said with a worried frown, early the following morning. “We’re not supposed to go over there unless they’re at work and it’s Saturday.”

  “Good point,” Brody agreed as he took out his phone and punched in Sage’s number.

  “Brody? Damn. Do you know what time it is,” Sage said when he answered, sounding barely awake.

  “Umm…” Brody checked his phone. “Seven o’clock?”

  “Who the hell gets up at seven on a Saturday? Never mind. You do. So?”

  Brody explained Gene’s concerns and then waited; smiling when he heard Mike’s grumbled, “Tell them not until after nine.”

  “I heard him,” Brody said, promising to keep the others corralled until then, and hung up. “They’re okay with it, but I suspect this is the first and last time we can do it on the weekend.”

  * * * *

  The four ghosts arrived at Mike and Sage’s townhouse on the dot of nine. It might have been the six of them if Brody hadn’t convinced Kurt and Tonio they’d be more of a hindrance than a help. “During the week, it’ll be okay. You can watch TV while we’re working on this.” The pair accepted what he’d said with good grace. Probably, he figured, because they knew if they argued he might ban them altogether.

  Sage took them into the office then asked which laptop they wanted to use, turning Van’s on when he said his would be fine. “There’s no sense in having both of them running when Brody’s the only one who can work on them.”

  “I sent my file on Jon’s murder to my home email,” Mike said. “Tell me your email and I’ll forward it.” He did when Van told Sage and he wrote it down for him.

  By then, Brody was seated at the laptop. Van gave him the password to get onto the desktop, then the ones he’d need online. When he got there, he opened the email from Mike and copied it to a Word file. Before doing anything more, he asked Sage to bring over two chairs, for Gene and Van. “So they won’t be hovering over my shoulder.”

  “Now, we read. Van, Gene, tell me what you want highlighted so we can find it again quickly.”

  “Better yet, cut and paste it to another Word file,” Jon suggested, so Brody started a new one.

  Then, they set to work while Mike and Sage left to take care of their normal Saturday chores.

  * * * *

  Two hours later, Van asked, “Can you set up a timeline, Brody?”

  “Sure. Day by day? Okay, that was a duh question.”

  He did, ending up with several days’ worth of information.

  Day One:

  Jon’s body found at 1 A.M. in parking lot of his building. Wallet found underneath Jon’s body with $500 in it. Car glove compartment empty. No weapon found.

  “According to this,” Van t
apped the screen, “the wallet contained his driver’s license, a couple of credit cards, the five hundred dollars, a key, and a business card for the restaurant where he worked.”

  “But no slips of paper with phone numbers or addresses,” Gene said. “The wallet and his keys were the only things in his pockets.” He turned to Jon. “I’m surprised there weren’t any phone numbers or an address book, or your phone.”

  “Yeah, it was missing, though I didn’t realize it until later. And so was my laptop, which should have been in my apartment.”

  “So it says in the report.”

  Noon. Mike visits Jon’s place of work. Learns he seemingly had no friends besides the people working there, other than a man, first name Grant, he dated a month prior to his death. Mike runs a check on Jon’s cell phone bills. Only one number that wasn’t for work or movie theaters. It was unlisted.

  8 P.M.—visit to Far Horizon club. Bartender remembers Jon coming in a month prior to his death with some other men, one blond, the other dark-haired with wire-rimmed glasses. Jon returned again, twice, but alone.

  “Brody and I were there when Mike was, as part of his investigation. So was Sage,” Jon said. “Sage saw us although Mike didn’t believe him, which wasn’t too surprising. When we left, we went to Sage’s office so he could talk to us without people thinking he was crazy.”

  Van chuckled. “I can see where that might have been a problem.”

  “That’s when I remembered having met Grant. The first time was at another club, about a week before we went to Far Horizon. I gave him my number, and he called to ask me out. We met at Far Horizon, with two of his friends. Thanks to Sage, who saw him there once before and remembered him, we were able to find out his last name.”

  “You didn’t know?” Gene asked.

  “I didn’t remember anything at first. Then things slowly started coming back, including us going to the club with those other guys.”

  “Okay. Let’s move on for now. We’ll get back to that later, when we have all the basic details,” Van said.

  Brody typed, Day Two: Mike goes back to club to look at surveillance tapes from the night of Jon’s murder. Jon was there alone but the bartender recognized two other men, who had been with him the first time. Mike has the police computer expert run the photos of the men that he got off the tape through a facial recognition program. One is Grant L. Newton. The other is Thomas Irwin, a known drug dealer. Mike visits Newton’s home and finds him dead. He sees a car leaving and gets a partial license number—A6. When he runs a check on Irwin he finds out his license plate also starts with A6. A visit to Irwin’s place of residence, a high-security condo complex, reveals he left before Grant’s murder and hadn’t returned afterward.