“I’m not followin’,” Bobby said curiously.
“Phylo Zeus is no angel, but there’s no murders or beatings ordered by him, at least as we can find evidence for. He’s more interested in the city running a certain way that profits him. He rewards success and doesn’t punish those that screw up, at least not so far as we can see. It’s more like he tells his thugs to wise up and follow some other guys example who does the job right. Those that continue to fail he cuts loose and forces them out of town. No one has any evidence that he killed any of his own men. Those that do the right thing by him, he rewards handsomely, or so we’re told”
“What about gangsters from other organizations?” Bobby asked.
“That I’m sure he’s been involved with. He may have some crazy ethical code, but he’s still a crook. The cops have found some bodies over the years. Most have been found floating in the river face down.”
“Yeah, he’s a sweetheart all right,” Tammy interjected.
“No, Tammy, he’s definitely not. But what could take his place in the vacuum he’d leave behind could be far worse,” George answered.
“But you think I should work for this guy anyway, George?” Bobby questioned.
“Only if you need the money, Kid. Look, chances are this guy told every other club owner in the city to keep their hands off of you so you’ll only work for him. What Phylo Zeus wants, Phylo Zeus gets,” George added with a shrug.
“Let me ask you something, George, what do you think of the Mayor? Do you think he’s a good guy?”
George shook his head slightly and said, “So far he hasn’t done anything I would term as corrupt, or bad for the city, why do you ask?”
“I don’t know George, it may be nothin’, but someone told me he owned the building that burned down where O’Malley’s was in. The same guy told me that it’s not the first building of his to burn down recently too. Any thoughts?”
“I think I may have to assign someone to do a little investigating on our beloved mayor; but a word of advice, Bobby, keep anything else you may have heard to yourself until we can check this out. If the mayor is a bad guy it may be dangerous to talk about this stuff, with anyone. Understand?”
Bobby nodded then said, “I gotta think about all of this,”
He leaned over and kissed Tammy lightly on the cheek, “See you tonight?” he asked.
“Only if I don’t see you first,” Tammy replied.
Bobby stood and started heading toward the door at the end of the busy newspaper office, “Seeya later George, thanks for all the info,” Bobby called back over his shoulder.
“You’re welcome, Bobby. Take it easy,” the portly man replied.
***
Bobby exited the newspaper building after a quick elevator ride to the lobby and walked out onto the sidewalk, then turned and headed toward his apartment.
‘I’m not liking this all one bit,’ he thought, ‘I may be forced into working for the city’s biggest crook, and not only that, but it’s a guy The Grim Spectre should be concerned about taking down. Only now, at least according to George, whoever comes up to fill the void left by Zeus is going to be worse than he is, and Zeus is a greasy snake. I just don’t get it,” Bobby mused.
Bobby looked up and without realizing it, he had walked back past what was left of the building O’Malley’s used to be in.
Bobby stopped and looked at the burned out husk for a moment.
‘Wow, this place was more than just an old building to me. I never realized how many memories I had in here. Good memories. My first gig was here. I mean I played in a hundred other places over the years, but this is the one I always considered almost as home. It’s-‘
“It’s hard to believe, ain’t it?” a familiar voice asked at Bobby’s right shoulder.
Bobby turned and saw Mr. O’Malley himself standing there looking at the old building.
“Yes it is, Mr. O’Malley. I’m shocked, I gotta tell ya,” Bobby replied.
O’Malley shook his head and sighed, “I guess everything’s gotta end, Bobby, even this.” The old man poked at the debris with a burned pool cue he had found in the wreckage.
“What are you going to do now, Sir?” Bobby asked.
O’Malley chuckled slightly before answering, then said, “What can I do, Bobby? This is over for me. All over. I can’t recover from this. Every penny I had was sunk into this place. Insurance ain’t gonna cover diddly here. No, Bobby, I’m finished in this town. I think I’ll move down to DC where my sister an’ her family live. I can always get a job tendin’ bar down there if I have to. No one knows me there and I can start fresh.”
“Do you really want to do that, Sir? I mean you must have been here your entire life.”
“I was, Bobby. But sometimes it’s just time to move on. A body can only take so much before it all becomes too much. You’ll understand what I mean someday.”
The old man turned and began to walk away.
“You take care of yourself, Bobby. You were always a good kid and the best damned horn player I ever seen.”
“Wait!” Bobby shouted. He ran after the frail old man and extended his hand, “I-I don’t know if we’ll ever see each other again, Mr. O’Malley. If this is good bye we have to shake hands. You were like a second father to me. I can’t just let you walk off like that. That ain’t no proper good-bye.”
The old man took Bobby’s hand in his own and shook it wearily, “There, better now, Bobby? Take care of yourself. I’ll miss ya, Kid.”
The old man turned and disappeared into the crowd walking along the sidewalk.
“I’ll miss you too, Mr. O’Malley,” Bobby almost whispered.
Then Bobby turned back toward the burned out building and he angrily thought of the people who had lived there, as well as O’Malley himself.
His fists at his side shook almost uncontrollably in rage and he thought, ‘Someone’s gonna pay for this.’
Then he turned and headed toward his apartment, to await the darkness to fall.
Chapter 13
A hidden gambling parlor behind a bar erupted into chaos that night, as a fearsome figure out of mans most dreaded nightmare rose up through the floor and table a group of thugs were playing cards at.
People screamed all about the room in fright. The girl who had been waitressing the illegal game shouted in terror and ran toward the front of the place, into the legal bar. She screamed, “The Grim Spectre is here! He’s back there killin’ everyone!”
The bartender ran to a wall phone and immediately began dialing. An instant later he covered the mouthpiece of the phone with his hand and whispered fearfully, “He’s here, Boss. He’s in the back room trashing the place.”
The bartender nodded and hung the phone up, then reached under the bar and withdrew a tommy gun. He checked it quickly and ran into the hidden back room screaming, “I’ll kill you, you sunovabitch!”
He swept the muzzle of the Thompson sub-machine gun around the room and realized that no one moved. They were all lying about the floor, unconscious or worse. But the ghost, The Grim Spectre was nowhere to be found.
His eyes wide, the bartender continued to look around when a ghostly figure rose up out of the floor behind him, to silently hover there.
Some preternatural sense warned the bartender that he was suddenly not alone, and the man turned to stare face to face with the horrific Grim Spectre!
“Wh-You! I-I’ll kill you!” he shouted.
“I think not,” The Grim Spectre replied, “One cannot kill what is already dead, mortal.”
The bartender spun the gun toward The Grim Spectre and shouted “AAARRRRRR!” He sprayed bullets at The Grim Spectre maniacally. His face frozen in fear, he pulled the trigger until the gun ran out. Every bullet had passed harmlessly through The Grim Spectre. Then the ghostly avenger reached a glowing, crackling hand toward the now cringing bartender and said, “You will tell me who owns this bar and you will answer any question I ask you, or I will make you wish I h
ad killed you.”
The glowing hand reached closer to the terrified man, who cringed in a corner with his back to the wall. He fell to the ground with his knees up before him, trying to ward off the terrible crackling hand.
“Grim Spectre, come out here now, unless you’re afraid,” a new voice boomed from back inside the bar.
The Spectre turned immediately and floated back toward the front of the building, the cowering bartender all but forgotten.
Standing in the empty and dark bar was a man with a wide brimmed black hat turned toward the ground, so his face was hidden. He wore a black duster that stretched to the floor. From what The Grim Spectre could see he was dressed all in black.
“Who are you, mortal? What brings you here?” the Spectre asked.
The man looked up. Black hair stuck out from under his hat, but the object that caught The Grim Spectre’s eye was the white collar that peeked out from under the overcoat.
“You are a…priest?” The Spectre asked hesitantly.
“I was, once, long ago,” the black garbed stranger replied.
The Grim Spectre floated there and looked down upon the man before him, “Go back to whence you came, preacher. You are not wanted nor needed here.”
The grinning priest walked forward confidently and said, “Oh but I am, Ghost. For I am here to do what a priest does in situations with spirits, I am here to perform an exorcism!”
Then in one move he reached under his long coat and withdrew twin .45’s and began shooting at The Grim Spectre, all the while laughing madly!
Chapter 14
The bullets passed harmlessly through The Grim Spectre, and then the Spectre floated forward grabbing the former priest by the neck and heaving him to the ground.
“You will stop firing your weapons, Priest. They cannot harm me,” he advised in a hollow voice.
“Oh I will destroy you monster, be you man or spirit the Priest will have his way and I will rid the world of your evil.”
“Be gone mortal,” The Grim Spectre roared. He reached forward to grasp the Priest by the throat, when the man ducked and parried the hand; he suddenly punched the Grim Spectre across the neck. Immediately the Spectre stumbled backward. But the Priest was on him instantly. He grabbed the Grim Spectre’s head and slammed it down into his upraised knee.
“Ha! I knew you’d have to become corporeal again,” the Priest shouted, “Now you’re mine!”
From beneath the folds of his long coat he produced another Tommy gun and fired madly at The Grim Spectre, spraying the walls of the backroom gambling parlor with hot lead!
But the Grim Spectre was too fast, instantly he turned immaterial, allowing the Bullets to pass right through him once again.
“Get back here you coward,” the maddened Priest shouted.
“Fool! Did you think to kill that which was already dead?” The Grim Spectre taunted.
He floated quickly through the Priest, passing cleanly though his body. The man turned to face him, bewilderment writ all over his face.
“T-that’s impossible. H-how did you do that?” the shaken Priest stammered.
“All things are possible for one who walks twixt the worlds of the living and of the dead, you fool.”
Before the Priest could bring his gun to bear again the Grim Spectre back handed the man with a crackling hand across the jaw, sending him flying across the room and into a stack of beer crates.
The Priest stumbled to his feet, not as confident as he was earlier and reached again under his robes to reveal a shining blade. He swung the blade before him in small arcs as he moved closer and closer to the Grim Spectre.
“Back to the pits of hell with you, Ghoul,” he shouted as he slashed the blade back and forth before the Grim Spectre.
“I will send you to the pits myself, fallen one,” The Spectre replied, reaching a crackling hand towards his foe.
But the Priest swung his arm backward quickly; the gleaming blade passed into the Grim Spectre’s ethereal form and immediately the Grim Spectre screamed!
“Ha!” The Priest laughed, “Do you see this knife, Grim Spectre? This is a blessed blade, dipped long into holy water and prayed over. It was created just to deal with your kind, to send ghosts and other evil spirits back to the pits of hell.”
The Priest dove at the Grim Spectre once again, knife held high, ready to slash through his immaterial form once again, and deliver a killing blow to a ghost!
But the Grim Spectre suddenly disappeared, fading from sight.
“Wh? Where are you, Grim Spectre? Come back here, cowardly fiend!” the Priest roared. He spun on his heels looking around the room for the first sign of The Grim Spectre, but finding none.
Beneath the bar, in a storage cellar The Grim Spectre hid in the darkness and thought, ‘I don’t know what he did to me, but that blade, it cut me while I was immaterial. I didn’t think that was even possible. Something in that blade was able to cut me. I have to get out of here and regroup. Allow the belt time to heal me. Otherwise I’m a dead man.’
Invisibly The Grim Spectre stood up and walked through a wall of the cellar, passing through solid rock and concrete.
Walking for two dozen steps he then floated upward and emerged in the middle of the street outside the bar. Unseen, he floated skyward, putting distance between him and the mad Priest.
‘I have to get back to my apartment, to heal. If I don’t, I really will become a ghost,’
Minutes later the Grim Spectre passed through the walls of his own apartment and collapsed upon his bed, unconscious. His white costume stained with the red of his own blood.
Chapter 14
Phylo Zeus sat in his dimly lit parlor listening to his favorite radio show, ‘Fibber McGee and Molly’ when his manservant appeared at his door, “Pardon the intrusion Master Zeus, but you have a visitor.”
“Who the hell would be visiting me now? It’s after eight O’clock.” He roared annoyedly.
Oscar exhaled, showing his own brand of annoyance and replied, “It’s that Priest fellow you hired to take care of your, ahem, ‘haunting’ problem, Sir.”
“Oh, why didn’t you say so, Oscar? Send him right in.”
Oscar turned smartly and walked away, returning a few seconds later with the priest, now carrying his large hat in his hands before him respectfully.
Zeus turned toward his manservant and said, “Leave us, Oscar. I’ll call you if I need you.”
Oscar rolled his eyes and replied, “Very well, Sir, as if I do not know what transpires in this house and behind these walls.” Then he turned and left; closing the parlor doors behind him.
“So?” Phylo Zeus began, “Is it done? Is the ghost dead?”
“Not…quite, Master Zeus.”
“What do you mean, ‘Not quite’? I sent you to do a job, and that job was to rid me of a pain in the ass ghost. What happened?”
“We fought, I had him down using a blessed blade and then he disappeared, as if he was never there.”
“He’s a friggin’ghost; that’s what they do. What’d you expect him to do? Lie there and wait fer you ta kill him? Or whatever it is you were gonna do to him?”
Zeus stood up and threw his hands in the air. Then he walked to a liquor cabinet and poured himself a glass of bourbon. He offered one to the Priest, but the man waved him off before saying, “No hard liquor for me, Sir. Perhaps some wine if you have it?”
“I don’t. It’s not on my regular menu. Look Padre,” he replied with more than a hint of exasperation, “go out there and find this spook and send him back to hell or wherever he came from. Do it clean and do it soon. I doubt this guy’s gonna be around tonight if you put a hurtin’ on him. But stick around and be ready to hear from me. Go back to the hotel I’m puttin’ you up in and stay near there so the desk clerk can call you if I send for ya, got it?”
The Priest nodded, his eyes finally leaving the floor and looking at his employer.
Relax, Padre, I’m not that kinda boss. I ain’t gonna ki
ll ya for screwin’ up, at least not the first time. Now get outta here.”
The Priest nodded and bowed, then turned and left, reciting a prayer as he walked past Oscar and out the door of the mansion with a curt nod to the butler.
Oscar turned back toward Zeus, who had followed his guest to the front door, and said, “Strange fellow. He seems a tad…peculiar. Was he truly a man of the cloth at some point?”
Zeus shrugged as he took a drink from his glass, “Supposedly he is or was. Somethin’ happened with him becoming overzealous with an exorcism or something like that. He was forced out of his order afterward, but still claims to be doing God’s work. I figured he’d be perfect for this job.”
“Hhmm, indeed he may be. To battle a purported ghost says much of one’s mental state alone, I believe.”
“Ahhh, don’t think too hard about it, Oscar ol’ boy. You’ll pop a friggin’ blood vessel.”
“Believe me, Phylo, that was not my intention at all.”
“Good, now go get me another bourbon an’ make it snappy.”
He handed the empty glass to Oscar and watched the mans annoyed reaction as he turned and walked back to the parlor.
“Sometimes I wonder why I keep the old guy around,” Zeus mused aloud.
“Because without me,” Oscar’s voice replied from the adjacent room, “you wouldn’t know where you put your slippers every morning and you’d sleep in an unkempt bed for the rest of your days.”
Oscar appeared before Zeus, exiting the parlor with a fresh drink in his hand, with a derisive snort Zeus swallowed the entire contents of the glass in one gulp and said, “Getting to be ya can’t get good help anywhere these days, especially one without a smart mouth.”
“Best to have a trustworthy assistant with a smart mouth, than one too ignorant to do his job correctly,” the older man replied drolly.
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