The First Ghost

by Marguerite Butler

  “I know you hear me,” he crooned directly into my ear. “I’m so close you can almost feel me.”

  I gritted my teeth and kept staring ahead.

  “You would have liked my house. We could have been friends. We can still be friends.”

  I parked in the street and walked purposefully to the front door. The two-story Cape Cod had been neglected for a long time. Faded blue paint peeled off in strips, and the smell went beyond musty.

  According to Harry, Old Man Biddle had lain dead in the house for three days before anyone found him. The kitchen smelled of old fish.

  “Don’t you want to ask about my wives? Hmm? It’s what everyone wants to know about.”

  A quick look around assured me that downstairs only contained the kitchen, a den, and a room crammed with junk. No bedroom and no clothes here.

  Biddle followed me down the narrow, dim hallway. He zipped ahead and spun around. We were eye-to-eye. “You want to know where they are? What I did with them?”

  “Are they here?”

  “I’m not going to tell you.”

  “So they aren’t here.” I passed him and headed for the stairs.

  He swooped closer. “They might be. I didn’t say they weren’t.”

  “I don’t believe you killed anyone.” The first door I opened was a half bath.

  “I did. I murdered them.”

  “I doubt that.”

  “It’s the truth.”

  “I think they both left your sorry ass. You just wanted people to think you were a killer.”

  “Oh no, they didn’t. No woman ever left Bart Biddle. I killed them and three girlfriends nobody knows nothing about. So there.”

  I felt sick. “I’m calling bullshit on you. You’re all talk and you always were. You’re nothing more than a dirty old man.”

  Bitch,” he snarled. “I’d have killed you too, but I’d have made you beg first.”

  Having eliminated the other doors, that left the room at the end of the hallway as his bedroom, his lair. He was dead, I reminded myself. He couldn’t do a thing.

  He whispered in my ear all the way down the hall. “Where could they be, Portia? Under the stairs? The basement? Back yard? Under the floorboards? In my room?”

  I flung open the door and stepped over the rat’s nest of magazines and food wrappers. I reached for the closet door.

  “In the closet? Hmm?”

  I ignored him and selected a pair of pants and a shirt. Reaching a decision, I faced him squarely. “If you did all that you claim, why not go down in history as a serial killer who got away with it? It’s not like they can do anything to you.”

  He pulled back. “You’ve got a point there.”

  “Why not claim your fame? Why not let them have the bodies? Otherwise you’ll be forgotten, a nobody.”

  His eyes glittered. “Maybe I should. Follow me.”

  I put the clothes I had selected in a hanging bag. “Like I said. I’m not interested in helping you.”

  “You know you want to.”

  “I don’t.”

  “Do.”

  “Don’t.”

  “You’ll follow me. You can’t help it. You know you will.” He zipped down the stairs. I had no choice but to go after him. I had to go down the stairs to get out.

  “In here,” he called from the back of the house. “I’m by the back door.”

  I stuck my head in the room. “I’m leaving.”

  “No! Wait. Let’s play. Guess where they are.”

  I walked to the front door. I wanted him to tell me, but I wasn’t going to play his guessing games. It wasn’t worth it. I put my hand on the front door, but a foul smell stopped me.

  I turned back to Biddle. “You’ll have to give me a clue. How many bodies total?”

  “Five,” he said with a grin. “Five bodies are somewhere on the property.”

  “Names,” I said.

  He wagged a finger. “First you have to guess.”

  “No, I get three clues. That’s only fair.” The goatish smell grew stronger.

  “Oh, all right. My first wife was Helen. The second was–”

  “The girlfriends,” I said. The stench was almost overpowering. “I need their names.”

  “Okay, Katherine and Lorna.”

  “You said three.”

  “I lied. One wasn’t a girlfriend, just a hooker I picked up. I don’t know her name. Holy shit! What is that?” His eyes grew wide.

  The demon was fast. Biddle didn’t have a chance to move before it had him. Grasping him with claws and fangs, it bit deeply into his neck like a vampire and sucked. I’ve never heard anyone scream the way Biddle did. His voice was high and hysterical. The demon shifted its hold and bit him on the opposite side of his neck.

  Biddle’s scream turned into a hoarse gurgle. He struggled in the demon’s hold, but the claws had impaled him. He reminded me of a fish on a hook, thrashing, growing weaker and fainter. Finally the screaming stopped and the only sound was the horrid sucking noise made by the demon’s mouth. Biddle faded to an insubstantial wisp.

  The demon released the pale husk that had been Biddle. The old man’s image flickered and then dispersed. He was gone.

  The demon sneered at me. Sated, it oozed out the doorway and was gone.

  Chapter 18

  I couldn’t think of anyone who more deserved to be eaten by a demon, but I was disappointed Biddle hadn’t told me where the women’s bodies were. They deserved a decent burial in hallowed ground.

  Harry was home when I handed off Biddle’s clothes to Mother.

  “About time you brought the hearse back,” he said.

  “You never use that old thing.” I dropped the keys in his hand. “And...er...problem handled,” I said to Mother. “Things should be more peaceful around here.”

  “What problem?” Harry asked.

  “Problem client,” Mother said. “Really? He’s gone?” She looked at my face. “You look a little pale. Did he give you a bad time?”

  “I’m fine. I think I’m quitting my new job.”

  “Not working out?”

  “Just not for me. I’ll go back to the temp agency.”

  “You can fill in here whenever you want.”

  “No, she can’t.” Harry had his hands on his hips. “Portia, you can’t quit your job until we get the mortgage for the condo.”

  “She can use Mahaffey-Ringold as her primary employment.”

  “I don’t remember agreeing to this,” I said. “I never said I definitely would buy the place with you.”

  “You have to. It would be good for both of us.”

  “I’ll help pay the down payment,” Mother said. “It’s my Christmas present to both of you. I think it’s a wonderful idea.”

  “But Billy comes with me. Love me, love my dog.”

  “I thought Ellie was taking that dog,” Mother said.

  “Change of plans. I’m keeping him.”

  “Bring the dog. This will work. I’ll get us something to celebrate with.” Harry bounced out of the room over Mother’s protestations that it was working hours.

  “You must really want him to move out,” I said.

  “I think Walter and I have earned some alone time.” She lowered her voice. “How did you ever get Biddle to cross over?”

  “I didn’t.”

  Harry burst in carrying wine and plastic tumblers. “This is all I can find.”

  Mother gave me a quizzical look.

  “Demon attack,” I whispered in her ear.

  * * * *

  Harry took me back to the train station. As we hurtled along he smirked.

  “What?”

  “You’re lucky she doesn’t read the papers.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “You’re lucky that Mother doesn’t read the newspapers. I do.” He changed lanes abruptly, passing a Volkswagen Beetle.

  “Oh.” Not witty, but all I could think of to say.

  “Did you really find a dead person?”


  “I was helping someone get stuff from her niece’s apartment.” I omitted the part about Corinne also being murdered. “We found this girl I worked with dead in the bathroom. Don’t tell Mother.”

  “Is that why you’re quitting?”

  I clutched the armrest as he merged on the freeway. “Part of it. The rest of what I said was true. I don’t like the people.”

  The car in front of us was too slow for Harry. He laid on the horn and whipped to the right, then back into his lane, nearly separating the car from its bumper. “But you stuck it out with Cruella de Vil for years.”

  “I’m never doing that again. Life is too short. So how is whatshername? The couch girl.”

  “I don’t know. She stopped calling me back.”

  “Who’s the new girl?”

  “What makes you think…”

  “Hickey on your neck.”

  “Aw, shit. Do you think Mother saw?” He crossed three lanes of traffic and hit the off ramp without braking.

  “It’s the size of Idaho. Of course she saw. What’s her name?”

  “Violet.”

  “Like the flower?”

  “She’s an artist.”

  “Cool. I want to meet her.”

  “Double date?”

  “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours? It’s a deal. One thing you have to know.”

  “He’s not really a doctor.”

  “Yes, he’s really a doctor. He’s a short doctor.”

  Harry glanced over in amusement. “How short?”

  “Short short.” I crossed my arms. “But he’s a doctor and he cooks and sings and does just about everything well. Tell me about Violet. What kind of art? This is not funny.” I cuffed him on the arm.

  “It is so funny. You’re dating a short guy. Violet is different from my usual type too.”

  “Omigod, is she ugly?”

  “No, she’s not ugly. She’s hot. But she’s...you know...all crunchy-granola earth-mother. Just different.”

  I grinned. “I can’t wait to meet her.”

  The light ahead changed from green to yellow. Harry mashed the accelerator.

  * * * *

  I couldn’t face going back to Woll Ag, so I made good on my threat to quit. Besides, I needed the time to box up everything I owned and move back home. Harry and I signed the papers on our condo, but we still had months before we could turn the key. I’m not sure how Richard, Ellie’s husband, made the financing work, but he swore it was okay.

  Since I was on a roll, I also called Ellie and told her I was keeping Billy. Things were more peaceful for Mother with Old Man Biddle gone, but this left the problem of what to do about the bodies buried somewhere on his property. Fierro and I had played a little phone tag, but I needed to see him in person to discuss things.

  Violet was everything and nothing I expected. Her long brown hair hung in beaded braids. She had huge dark eyes and a too-large mouth that was always smiling.

  Moving my possessions out of my apartment wasn’t the double date Harry and I had envisioned, but a yellow notice from the manager stepped up my moving plans. If I wasn’t out by tonight, the manager would go to court and have me forcibly evicted.

  Violet had access to a horse trailer she used for hauling her pottery and sculptures around. We had a hearse, a van and Violet’s trailer, which meant only two trips.

  “What’s in this one?” Violet held up a marker over the box I had taped.

  I thought for a minute. “Hell if I know.”

  “You just taped it,” Harry said.

  “I know. I can’t remember what’s in there. Maybe books. Or dishes. It could be dishes.”

  “I’ll write fragile,” Violet said. “Just to be safe.”

  Ethan hoisted the box up. “Oof. Feels like books.”

  “Hold the bottom,” I said. “I don’t want them dumped out in the parking lot.”

  “Hearse or trailer?” he asked.

  “Trailer. Those are going into storage.” I hated being without my books for a month, but there simply wasn’t room in Mother’s house for most of my things so I had rented a storage unit.

  Harry smirked at me as Ethan staggered out with the box. He hadn’t made a crack about Ethan’s height, but he took every opportunity to tweak me about it. I ignored him.

  My lovely apartment was almost empty. The few big items I owned–table, couch, bed, armchair–were already in storage.

  “Ar-ar-ar-ar.” Billy raced back and forth across the seats of the hearse. I took him out so he could deposit one last turd in the shrubs.

  Harry and Violet brought the final boxes out. “Meet you at the storage place,” Harry said and tossed me the keys to the hearse.

  Ethan checked his watch.

  “Go,” I said. “I don’t want you to be late for work.”

  “I won’t. I have plenty of time to shower and change before my shift.”

  “Good to finally meet you. See you Sunday.” Harry and Ethan clasped hands and did the manly shoulder thump thing. Harry had to bend down to do this.

  I crossed my arms and turned to Harry. “Sunday?”

  “I invited him to dinner,” Harry said.

  “You should have checked with Mother first.” And with me.

  Harry smirked. “It was her idea.”

  “Great.” I pasted on a smile. “You get to meet the family.”

  “Is it okay?” Ethan asked.

  “Of course. It’s great. Terrific.” Yikes. Deep breath.

  Harry and Violet waved and drove off in the van. Ethan hooked a finger in my waistband, pulling me to him. “Are you sure it’s okay? You seemed a little...”

  “Surprised. I was surprised.” I slipped both arms around him. “It takes bravery to face my entire family at one time. If you’re ready, I’m ready.”

  I leaned down to kiss him. He pulled away slightly and glanced past my shoulder. “We have an audience.”

  I turned to see Fierro sitting in his car. Talk about bad timing. “Oh. He’s a friend of mine. I’m sure he’s here to–” Think. Think. “–talk,” I concluded. And I had thought my lying skills were improving.

  Fierro unfolded himself from his front seat. Ethan kept an arm around me. He couldn’t have marked his territory more clearly if he had peed a circle around me.

  “Hey, looks like moving day. This must be the boyfriend. Arthur Fierro.”

  “Ethan Feller.”

  The handshake lasted a little too long, as did the stare-down.

  “Ethan was just leaving for work. It’s okay,” I said to Ethan more quietly.

  Ethan leaned in for a possessive kiss. He gave Fierro a look before driving off.

  “Didn’t mean to set your boyfriend off.”

  “He’s not usually like that.”

  “It’s okay. I get it. Short man syndrome.”

  I put my hands on my hips. “Did you need something?”

  “Boyfriend doesn’t know shit about what’s going on, does he?”

  “No, and you’d better not tell him, either.”

  “Got your message about quitting the job. It’s a good thing.”

  “You have something new?”

  “We’ve identified the pages from Ruth’s desk. The bootleg copies.”

  “Tamaguchi, right?”

  “That’s what we thought, too. But no. They belong to Dr. Seleman.” He put a hand up. “I know. I know. That secretary guy said that Ruth typed Tamaguchi’s papers. But I showed them around and got a second opinion. Seleman confirmed it. He gave his notes exclusively to Corinne to type.”

  “So Ruth took them from Corinne? That means...”

  “Her accidental poisoning may not have been so accidental. Ruth could know about Corinne eating other people’s food.”

  “I don’t think it was a big secret. Duncan Werner told me about it. But that was a big gamble to take. Why not some kind of accident at home?”

  “The same reason Ruth used Seleman’s heart meds. She probably wanted to
keep suspicion away from her.”

  “You can’t be positive it was Ruth.”

  “I can,” he said smugly. “There was a print on the drawer to Seleman’s desk. Oh, she was careful to wipe the bottle, but not careful enough to get the whole desk.”

  “She could have left that print anytime. It could have been when she was stealing his work.”

  I didn’t think it was possible for him to look even more smug, but he managed. “This was the drawer he keeps personal items in. It was the meds.”

  I was more confused than ever. I just wasn’t cut out for the detective thing. “But we still aren’t any closer to knowing who Ruth was giving the pages to.”

  He smiled and leaned against the van. “Closer than you think. You’re a smart girl. Use your head. Who is doing the same type of research? Who is she already handing typed pages to?”

  It finally clicked. Well, duh! “Tamaguchi! Ruth and Tamaguchi were in it together!”

  “Think about it. Multiple scientists all chasing the same scientific discovery? At the end is international acclaim, not to mention Woll Ag has promised a huge cash bonus to the first one. So Tamaguchi persuades Ruth to steal the papers from her roommate’s desk, copy them and replace them. Then Ruth simply includes the information in Tamaguchi’s own field notes as if he did the work.”

  “She was in love with him,” I said. “Ellie did a reading. Ruth was in love with her killer. She stole for him.”

  Fierro was still for a moment. “And what sort of object did she read?”

  I couldn’t meet his eyes. Instead I dug the bracelet out of a box. I had put it with my good jewelry and knew exactly where to find it. I handed it to him without a word. “It has a racquet on it. Tamaguchi plays squash. I think he gave it to her.”

  “Can you explain this?” He dangled the bracelet on the end of one finger.

  “I took it from Ruth’s apartment.”

  “How could you do this? I vouched for you with the other detectives. This could be evidence. How am I supposed to explain my having this bracelet?” His voice rose.

  “Say you found it.”

  “You mean lie?”

  “Is that so bad?”

  “This is a murder investigation. I can’t do that.”

  I faced him, hands on hips. “So you’ve been open about everything? About working with a clairvoyant? About where you get your information?”