A Spookies Compendium

by David Robinson

  Andrea’s voice was a lot quieter and Sceptre did not catch the response. Instead, she reached out a foot and nudged Kevin.

  He stirred. “Huh? What? I’m trying to sleep.”

  “You can sleep when we get home,” she said. “The police are on their way again and when they’ve done with us, they’ll want to take our equipment away. Get a copy of the video where Corcoran ran for it. We need to look at it when we get home.”

  Kevin cocked his ear and he too listened to Locke ranting in the corridor. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a flash drive, hooked it into his computer, called up the footage, clipped it and downloaded it.

  He slipped the flash drive back into his pocket just as Locke and Keynes entered the dining hall.

  “Right,” growled the Chief Inspector, “you two can go, but leave your gear behind. You can pick it up from the police station later. And you tell Brennan that when he comes to the station, I’ll want a few words with him. Harsh words. And mine are likely to be harsher than his.”

  *****

  When Pete came out of the Wicked Witches’ suite and back into reception, he found a worried Ranji Patel waiting for him.

  “Pete, they told me …”

  “Don’t worry about it,” Pete cut him off. “It’s all sorted.” He looked around. “You didn’t call plod?”

  Ranji shook his head. “Orders. In the event of any hassle, the Wicked Witches’ security team are supposed to handle it and then we call the filth. I was waiting for them to say they had you pinned back.”

  Pete chuckled. “You’d have a long wait. Listen, Ranji, is there anything else you can tell me about that night when Gus Nordqvist didn’t show?”

  “Nothing mate. Sorry.”

  “Did you know Nordqvist?”

  Ranji shrugged. “Not really, no. I’d seen him before. The Wicked Witches have stayed here a few times.”

  “He was into some religious sect. Something to do with a god called Loki.”

  “Oh, that?” Ranji grinned. “Everyone here knew about that. I’m surprised the tabloids never got hold of it. Whenever they stayed here, especially if it was for, like, a few days, he always had this meeting arranged. He’d go out and not get back until the early hours.”

  “Alone? With the girls? Briscoe?”

  “Alone.”

  “And when he came back?” Pete asked. “Drunk, sober?”

  “Sober.”

  “But you don’t know where he went?”

  Ranji shook his head and smiled bleakly. “None of our business, mate.”

  “Cheers, Ranji.”

  Pete came out of the hotel into the winter sunshine and climbed into his car. Running the engine and heater to stave off the cold, he reached into his pocket for his mobile.

  Checking the menu window, he found a text alert. A message from Kevin.

  We r away Locke wants to c u.

  Pete grinned to himself, and rang Kevin’s number.

  “You got my text?” his partner asked.

  “Yep,” said Pete, “and Locke can wait. Where are you?”

  “The Germ Factory,” replied Kevin.

  The mention of their favourite eatery reminded Pete that he was hungry. “I’ll be there in ten minutes. Order me a bacon sandwich and tea.”

  Cutting the connection, he slotted the car into gear and drove out of the hotel into the rush hour traffic.

  In fact, it was almost twenty minutes later when he stepped into Wilf Mannion’s Café to join his partners, both of whom looked exhausted.

  “Any joy?” Kevin asked.

  Pete signalled to Wilf and sat with his colleagues. “Not much. Every time I ask a question instead of answers all I get are more questions.”

  “Such as?” asked Sceptre.

  Pete shrugged. “The Witches and Sonny deny any involvement in Nordqvist’s death, but Ranji Patel knows that Nordqvist was into this religious thing, but neither of the Wicked Witches nor Briscoe went with him to these meetings. So if it had nothing to do with them, who was it and why did they kill him?”

  “You believe Briscoe?” Kevin wanted to know.

  Pete was silent as Wilf delivered his tea and sandwich. Between mouthfuls he said, “I don’t know. Briscoe is an ex-con, and you know my opinion about leopards and spots.”

  “That’s not a very charitable attitude,” Sceptre rebuked him.

  Pete cast a mean glance at her. “I’m not in a charitable mood.”

  “All right,” Sceptre accepted his admission, “let me try another approach. Where does Corcoran fit into all this and who, aside from Briscoe and the Wicked Witches, could have told him we were there last night?”

  Swallowing a hefty bite of his sandwich, Pete said, “I’m not sure. Sherlock knew, so did one or two of his guards. Maybe the director, that Dunstan cove, knew about it.”

  “Let me run an idea past you,” Kevin said. “This spook, this Vali chava, he’s showed me two visions from his past. Suppose the other one, Mr Punch, has done summat the same with Danny? I mean, it could be that Mr Punch, when he was alive, had a hand in Nordqvist’s death, and he doesn’t want us finding out.”

  Pete stared in astonishment. “Why? What does he think we’re gonna do? Haul him up before ghost’s assizes. Stick to what usually comes out of your arse, Kev, instead of talking through it.” He finished his sandwich and sat back, replete. “I enjoyed that. All I need now is a good woman and some sleep. Sceptre, how about —”

  “Let’s stick to Danny Corcoran, huh?” she cut him off.

  “I’d rather not.” Pete thought for a moment and as if to disagree with his last words, said, “Danny was a scroat, and if anyone deserved skewering, it was him, but as to who let him know we were there, I don’t know. I don’t think it was Briscoe or either of the Lane sisters.”

  Sceptre disapproved with a glare. “Because Briscoe stood to lose too much and Nag Lane loved Nordqvist?”

  Pete hedged. “Sort of. I can’t see what Sonny Briscoe would gain from killing Nordqvist. Nag Lane loved him, and Briscoe admits he wasn’t happy with that, but he’s not dumb. He knew that if he alienated the roadie, he would alienate Nag, too, and that could have led to the band breaking up. Briscoe would have cut off his nose to spite his face, if you see what I mean.”

  Sceptre nodded thoughtfully. “The band are his income and if they don’t go on, he’s broke again.”

  “Correct,” Pete applauded. “He had no clear motive for killing Nordqvist, and if he didn’t kill Nordqvist, why would he tell Corcoran that we were there last night? Hence my other question. If it wasn’t him, who was it and why?”

  “I think Danny Corcoran killed Nordqvist,” Sceptre said, “or at least he had a hand in it.”

  “No, that High Master sort sliced Nordqvist. I saw it in my vision, and I couldn’t see none of their faces, but it’s possible that Danny was hiding under one of the hoods.” said Kevin.

  “Talking of your vision,” Pete asked, “where did you find that block of wood you used to prop the coffin lid?”

  “The gorilla used it, too, and I saw where he threw it.”

  “And who was the gorilla?” Pete asked.

  Kevin shrugged. “Dunno. I told you, I couldn’t see their faces because they had those hoods on, but the only bloke I know what looks like a gorilla is Ginger Green.”

  “Who’s Ginger Green?” asked Sceptre.

  “Local loon,” Pete told her. “Mate of Alec Minton’s and as it happens, a known associate of Danny Corcoran. I can go with what you’re saying, Kev, but the only thing is, for Corcoran and Green to have topped Nordqvist, they’d need a reason. Green is incapable of thinking for himself, and I don’t see either of them as a front runner in a religious sect.”

  “He was wearing Loki’s badge,” Sceptre pointed out.

  Pete raised his eyebrows. “Which only makes the puzzle even more puzzling.” He checked the time on The Germ Factory’s wall clock. “Nearly ten. Time I was at home, in bed, giving it zeds. Sceptre, how a
bout you and me —”

  “You’re too tired and even if I wasn’t, I still wouldn’t be interested.”

  *****

  It was after four and darkness was descending again. Kevin was still in bed and Sceptre was studying video footage on Kevin’s desktop computer when Pete crawled out of bed to join her.

  “It’s the footage of Danny Corcoran after he floored you and ran for the roof,” she explained, “I asked Kevin to copy it to disk because Locke kept the laptop.”

  With a grunt, Pete disappeared into the kitchen and returned several minutes later with a beaker of tea.

  “Look at this,” Sceptre invited.

  Pete drew up a chair beside her and took in the screen.

  The clip was silent. The dim lighting in the corridor and poor recording blurred much of the action but Pete could clearly be seen backing out of the classroom as Corcoran ran at him. Danny left Pete on the deck, knocked over the camera and then ran for the roof. He disappeared up the stairs, there were two flashes of light and then Kevin and Sceptre arrived as Pete got groggily to his feet. Several more second passed before Pete hurried off to the roof access. Light flashed behind his head and he turned after speaking to Sceptre, then disappeared in pursuit of Danny. A few seconds later, Sceptre and Kevin followed.

  Sceptre stopped the video. “Well?”

  Pete was mystified. “Well what?”

  “You saw what happened,” she insisted.

  “Yes,” he agreed. “I saw Danny boy flatten me, kick over the camera and then run for it.”

  “You also saw Vali following him,” Sceptre affirmed. “Fishwick told me this morning that Nordqvist, Vali, call him what you will, dropped Corcoran from the roof. He’s still there at the school. Nordqvist I mean, not Corcoran.”

  Pete groaned. “Sceptre, we’ve been up all night, it’s been stress, stress, stress all the way, and I’ve had less than six hours sleep. I’m in no mood for Fishwife and his spooky chums. Danny Corcoran tried to get away by climbing down from the roof and he fell. That’s all there is to it.”

  “All right,” Sceptre argued. “If that’s the case, how do you explain those flashes of light following him? There was one while you were stood at the bottom of the roof steps.”

  “I don’t know,” Pete admitted. “Maybe Corcoran accidentally pointed his torch right at the camera lens and that blanked it out.”

  “He wasn’t carrying a torch,” Sceptre said. “He dropped it after hitting you with it.”

  “Well, I don’t know, do I?” Pete grumbled. “Sceptre, if you’re trying to convince me that Danny Corcoran was murdered, I’d be more than happy about it. He got exactly what he deserved. But if you’re trying to tell me a ghost did it, then you’re talking through your hat. And if you try to tell Locke that, he’ll have you certified.”

  “I’m not a fool —”

  “No?” Pete cut her off. “You’re doing a more than passable impression.” The look on Pete’s face said he instantly regretted his words. He promptly apologised. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to say that. All I’m saying is you’re going to have to come up with something better than that to convince other people.”

  “I don’t need to convince other people of anything,” Sceptre explained. “I simply need to get you to listen to me. Fishwick assures me that the spirit of Gus Nordqvist has taken revenge on Danny Corcoran. Normally, that would be enough to bring peace to the spirit and send him through The Light, but not in this case. Nordqvist is still there, he’s still angry. He’s waiting for … oh I don’t know. Something or someone else, and he’s not sufficiently coherent to let Fishwick know what it is.”

  The sceptical look on Pete’s face told her all she wanted to know about his thought processes.

  With enforced patience, she explained, “What I’m saying, Peter, is what I said this morning. Danny Corcoran probably had a hand in Nordqvist’s murder, but he wasn’t alone, and the ghost of Gus Nordqvist is hanging around, still seeking further revenge.”

  Pete tossed the information in his mind. “And I said it sounds about right, but I need to know why.”

  Now she was even more worried. “And where will you learn that?”

  He shrugged. “I haven’t a clue.” The telephone rang and Pete picked it up. “Brennan.”

  “Pete? Andrea Keynes. We’ve finished with your gear. Our technical bods insist that Keeley hasn’t tampered with the video footage, and although Locke’s not entirely happy with your presence at the Ashdalean, he’s grudgingly agreed that you didn’t kill Corcoran.”

  “Good of him,” Pete chuckled.

  “You can have your gear back,” Keynes said, ignoring his sarcasm.

  With a glance at Sceptre, Pete asked, “Can we get back into the school?”

  “Not tonight,” she told him. “Maybe tomorrow. The Wicked Witches have brought pressure to bear, so they can come back in tomorrow”

  “I’ll come to the station for the gear,” Pete said. “If you’re signed off maybe we could get a quick drink.”

  The detective constable was not forthcoming. “We’ll see. I may need more persuasion.”

  Pete put the phone down and grinned at Sceptre. “That’s me set for the night,” he said and detailed Andrea’s report to Sceptre.

  “Tell me to mind my own business if you wish,” said Sceptre, “but I thought the thing between you and Ms Keynes was history.”

  Pete nodded. “Modern history. That means it can be rewritten.” He grinned. “She’s one of the few in Ashdale CID who thinks I shouldn’t have been fired.” Putting on his coat, he said, “I’ll catch you later. Don’t wait up.”

  He left and with a rueful smile, Sceptre muttered, “Earthbound; tied to sex and booze and rock and roll.”

  *****

  “One of our number has passed over,” said the High Master. “He sits now, at the right hand of our lord and master. His death shall be avenged.”

  With the ceremony over, the cover was once again lowered over the great seal. Hoods remained in place, as if anonymity were the order.

  “Sticking with this crap,” said Alec Minton, “Brennan killed Danny. Doesn’t that demand justice?”

  The High Master frowned. “This crap, as you describe it, will make you a wealthy man, Alec, so get used to it. And you’re right, about justice, but we must tread carefully.” The High Master concentrated on the other disciples. “The goods are all safely stowed?”

  “Quite safe, Master.”

  “We must ask ourselves how these three irritations came by their information,” the High Master said. “How did they know of Swede’s body in that box? And if they got to know about that, how much else do they know. Our safety is under threat gentlemen and we need to decided what to do about that.”

  “Top ’em,” said Green.

  “I think he’s right, Master,” Minton said. He fished into his robe and came out with a cigarette. Lighting it, he went on, “we don’t know what they know, we don’t know how they come to know it, but I do know Brennan. He’s a smartarse. He won’t let on to his pals on the police force until he’s cracked it himself. Except maybe that Keynes tart, but she can be dealt with, too. The only way we can be truly safe is to get rid of all of them.”

  The High Master bit his lip and worried it. “I agree, but not the policewoman. At least, not yet. Brennan, Keeley, Rand. Let’s be rid of them. Is there anyone else who may create a problem?”

  “Sherlock,” said Green.

  Minton grinned and dragged on his cigarette. The end glowed scarlet in the bitter night. “There I was thinking Ginger was just a fruitcake. He’s right again, Master. Sherlock has been feeding me information. After Friday night, he may just put two and two together.”

  “Then I leave it with you, my fellow disciples. Holmes, I think is a minimal risk. He can be dealt with on Friday, if we have to. I’m more concerned about the other three. Follow them. Trap them. Kill them.”

  *****

  “Do you want to tell me what’s go
ing on?”

  Pete stretched and huddled closer to Andrea. “I wish I knew. I’m guessing that whatever happened to Nordqvist, Corcoran was involved. That is all I can tell you.”

  In response to Pete’s move, Andrea drew herself even closer, until the musky scent of his aftershave filled her nostrils. “Is Alec Minton hooked into this?”

  “Not that I’m aware. Any reason why he should be?”

  Andrea propped herself up, her breast rubbing the light hair on his naked chest. “Pete, you’re not coming clean here.”

  “It’s not because I don’t want to,” he said, “but because if I did, you wouldn’t believe me.”

  “Try me.”

  “I thought you’d never ask.” He dragged her lips to his.

  Later, suffused with satisfaction, she pressed him again. “You’ve had seconds, so when I say try me, I don’t mean go for thirds. Why wouldn’t I believe you?”

  “Because the information comes from psychic sources.” He told her of Sceptre’s and Kevin’s experiences. When he had finished, Andrea chuckled, and he put his arm around her. “See. I was right. You don’t believe me.”

  “Pete, I can’t go to Locke and tell him your information came from two ghosts.”

  “Why do you think I gave him that bull about having deduced it from Danny Corcoran’s presence? Truth is, Andrea, I can’t explain it. Sceptre claims to have this butler guy as a channel and ever since she moved in with us, Kev’s been having odd turns. I think it’s so much garbage, but they keep getting it right and I don’t know how.”

  “It’ll never stand up in court. To bring us full circle, what do you think is going on?”

  “I really don’t know, but Nordqvist was into some wacky religious thing and Danny Corcoran was wearing their badge. Sceptre knows more about that angle than I do. Corcoran turns up when we’re hunting ghosts. What are the chances of that being a coincidence? Lower than a snake’s doodah, I’d say.”