Blood & Spirits

by Dennis Sharpe

  I drop my sweater and skirt on the bed and stand for a moment just enjoying the feel of the cool crispness of the air on my skin. Turning and picking up a bottle of lotion from the dressing table, my feet find their way to the bathroom.

  Now I’m faced with life’s biggest eternal dilemma: A quick warm shower, or a long hot soak?

  There’s a familiar ripping sound in the room behind me, and I turn to face Lucy in all her resplendent glory. She looks me up and down and then asks “Can we talk?”

  I can’t help but be amused by her modesty. I reach behind the door and take my red silk robe off the hook, slide it over me and tie it, and exit the bathroom.

  “Yeah, we can always talk. Did you find something out about Rachel?”

  “I found out, young one, that there is something immensely greater happening than the simple terrorizing of a child and a small set fire.” She says it to intentionally make what’s happened seem small.

  “Do you know how much that fire cost me?” I ask indignantly, “Or how much Rachel means to me? C’mon Lucy, talk to me. Tell me the truth.”

  I reach down to the edge of my bed and take the skirt and sweater in hand and fold them. It’s a positive outlet for my nervous energy. It helps me deal with my stress in more productive ways. I’m seriously considering killing the next shrink I meet.

  Lucy takes a long pause and looks deep into me before she speaks. “The truth of the matter is that the scope of what’s going on is beyond what I am accustomed to dealing with. There is a storm coming, Veronica. It will be difficult to weather. For all of us. You must prepare yourself. The world is about to turn on its end. There are more unquiet spirits active than I’ve ever known at once. I’ve never seen them act with the focus, or determination, more importantly I’ve never seen them play nice with each other before. You must heed my warning, child. Choose your path with caution in the coming nights.”

  “Are you being cryptic on purpose? What the hell is an unquiet spirit? What are you so worried about?” I’m confused and in the last few days Lucy, who was usually my rock, was doing nothing but stressing me out. I throw the twelve times refolded dirty clothes on the floor in exasperation.

  “If my words are making you uneasy then they are serving their purpose. You should be on edge. An unquiet spirit is often mistaken for a demon, or called a poltergeist by the living. They are dangerous, powerful, and completely mad. They have, due to their insanity, less holding them back from affecting the world of the living. What has taken me almost two hundred years to master, they grasp in weeks or months. I’ve never known times as dangerous as these.” Her words fall into the void between us. It feels to be growing into a gulf.

  I didn’t realize until now how emotionally bonded she and I had become, and now she was shutting it off like a switch. She and I shared similar childhoods, and even both sold our bodies to survive for a time. She’s like my personal patron saint. Feeling the hole where she’s pulled back from me is almost painful.

  “What about Rachel?” My voice comes more timid than I had intended.

  “We will both do all that is in our power for her. But we must be wary for ourselves as well. You must keep that in mind.” Before I can even respond, there’s the sound of ripping and she’s gone.

  Lately I’m not happy to hear what she has to say, and yet I’m more uncomfortable with what she isn’t saying. She knows more than she thinks it’s safe to tell me. I don’t like that at all.

  CHAPTER 5

  “VERONICA, YOU’VE GOT A PHONE CALL.” Julie calls up on the intercom. She sounds tense, it can’t be anything good. I put down the county map I’ve been looking at, hit the button for the outside line, and pick up the receiver.

  “This is Veronica Fischer, what can I do for you?”

  “Good evening Ms. Fischer. This is Detective David Lewis. You do remember me don’t you?” His voice betrays that he’s still holding a grudge. Some things never change.

  ”How could I forget? What can I do for you, Detective? You catch the firebug that lit up Julie’s house?” He and I both know that I own the place, but he can’t prove it and I love provoking people.

  “I’m calling tonight regarding a different matter, Ms. Fischer.” He’s too calm. He thinks he has something on me. “What can you tell me about Michael Moran?”

  “He’s a scum bag, and a thief? What are you looking for?” Maybe if I’m arrogant enough I can piss him off and he’ll let me know something he didn’t mean to.

  “I’m afraid he’s neither of those things anymore, Ms. Fischer.”

  He continues, letting me know that Mikey Moran, who used to do some work for me here and there, driving mostly, was found dead, and that I need to come in for questioning. Evidently witnesses have come forward claiming that I had been seen arguing with him the night before his body was found.

  I’m on autopilot now. Letting the calm flow on the outside, while I’m ripping things apart in my mind. Who is setting me up for this? Does everything have to happen all at once? I need a vacation, but prison isn’t one of my choice exotic destinations.

  This is trumped up bullshit, and Lewis isn’t being nice about it. He’s enjoying having something on me. He’s never forgiven me for ‘corrupting’ his precious little Frank. If he only knew. He needs to just sleep with him and get it over with, put us all out of our misery; it’s been years in coming.

  I get a bit more dressed up than usual for tonight, what Rachel would call my ‘hot stuff’ attire. I have a date with a client that I don’t see very often. He has more money than good sense, and he doesn’t care how much it costs to show a girl a good time. My kinda man.

  As I walk down the stairs, I can smell something odd that might just ruin my good mood. It’s old, and it’s dead. Others of my kind rarely come to visit here. It’s beneath them.

  At the door to the basement I’m fairly certain I know who it is, and they’re in my office. That pisses me off unbelievably.

  Walking softly down the stairs, I find a cockroach in an expensive hand-tailored suit going through my filing cabinet.

  His name is Marcus Learner. He’s the nephew of Jacobi, the oldest and most powerful of my kind in the tri-state area. Jacobi is in charge because of his age; it’s how our kind function. Because of who his uncle is, Learner is a little spoiled, always has been. He gets away with a little too much.

  Apart from having a similar addiction to arterial fluid, this thing and I share nothing, least of all any affection for each other. Why is he here?

  “Wow! Is it asshole day, and nobody told me?” I startle him and he drops a handful of papers on the floor. Now I have more things to do, add cleaning up after nosey grease balls to the list.

  “I was just… uh,” It’s funny to watch a feeble mind at work, as he tries to find words that make him sound smarter than the inbred hick he is. “Taking inventory. Seeing how these holdings were… allocated.”

  “That’s my business. Not yours. Why are you in my house?” This is bold for him. Not completely out of character, but more brazen than I’m used to from him.

  He steps out away from my cabinets as he slicks his coarse salt and pepper hair down. Looking around the room, his eye catches on a gold statue of Venus I have in the corner.

  “Ya know, one day Jacobi will stop protecting you? You do know that, right?” He’s daring me to say something he can take back and ‘tattle on me’ for. “And when that day comes, all that you have will be mine.”

  “Since when did you stop calling him ‘my uncle?’ You trying to sound like a grown up now?” I can tell that hit home. He looks like he’s about to start spitting bile, so I decide to beat him to the punch.

  “Look, you’re pissin’ me off. I don’t want to spank you, but I will.” I take a step toward him and he flinches back. What a pussy. I motion toward the door.

  ”My horoscope today said I’d get into strange arguments or weird conversations”, I look him up and down dramatically, “I just didn’t know how weird it really
meant. I think it’s time for you to be somewhere else, wasting someone’s time that isn’t mine.”

  ***

  The Native Pines Trailer Park is little more than a modestly sized mud pit, with what’s left of broken asphalt roads and speed bumps dividing up a sea of rusty mobile homes and the used up husks of what were once people. Depression here is at a premium.

  Frank pulls into the parking spot in front of the 1978 red, white and rust special that he’d arrested Calvin Hocker at all those years ago and it really felt like yesterday for him.

  He steps out of the Charger and gets halfway to the door before he’s stopped by the neighbor across the way. “She don’t live there.”

  “Excuse me? I’m sorry?” he asks, a bit baffled by the statement.

  “You’re looking for Ally, right? She always has men stopping by.” The bulbous car wreck in a house coat walks closer before continuing in a quieter yell, as if to keep others from overhearing her shouts. “Her and Calvin, that good-for-nothin’, moved out by the airport. And good riddance to him. Poor girl, I was sorry to see her go. She coulda done so much better than that one, let me tell ya.”

  Frank nods his agreement and looks around at the people standing around outside. He decides that he might be able to turn this to his advantage. “Did he hang around with any of the folks around here? Someone that might be able to tell me what all he’s been into? I’m a friend of her family, and I’d like to see that guy behind bars and away from her.”

  She examines him for just a moment and then leans in close. “He’s been running around with a different crew than he used to, worse fellas, and his old friends don’t like it none.”

  She points to a man on a piece of cardboard under a rusty old minivan. ‘That there is Freddie Tubbs. Calvin owes him money. If anyone knows, he does, and he ain’t too fond of ol’ Calvin right now.”

  “I thank you, ma’am,” Frank says as he starts walking in the direction of Mr. Tubbs. The woman continues to talk behind him, but he’s gotten all he needed from her. He just keeps walking.

  After a quick conversation with Freddie, a couple of bills from his wallet, and a twenty minute drive, Frank pulls into the driveway of one Calvin Hocker.

  Stepping up onto the rickety old porch, he notices a cigarette still smoldering in an ashtray. Someone’s at home.

  He bangs on the door twice and gets no answer, so he yells, “I’m looking for Calvin Hocker! I’ve got some questions, and I don’t want to kick the door in!”

  The door opens just enough to let the barrel of a twelve gauge shotgun slide out. From the other side of the door he hears a woman’s voice. “Calvin’s not here, so get off my porch.”

  Frank takes a step back and puts his hands up. “I’m not looking to hurt you, Ally. I just think you might be mixed up in something that’s more than you know how to get out of. Can you put the gun down and talk to me for a minute?”

  It takes a few tense seconds before she pulls the gun back in, but then she opens the door and her face is streaked with tears. “Who are you, and why do you care?”

  Allison, as it turned out, was not his girlfriend by choice. She was afraid of him. Breaking down to Frank, she says that she knows he was involved in setting the fire, she’s even heard him bragging about it. She’ll testify or swear out a statement, whatever he wants, as long as he’ll protect her from Calvin.

  “He wasn’t always like this. He’s been really different lately. Hooked on some new drug, and running around with Carl McCreary. He’s beat me up pretty bad a few times, and I think he’s gonna end up killin’ me.”

  It seems, Frank thinks to himself, that Calvin hasn’t really changed. Not from the guy he remembers anyway. He can’t let this girl get hurt any more, just for being stupid in choosing what man to lay down beside. Anyone with a soul couldn’t let this go on.

  She shows him to the shed in the back of the house where there are drums of kerosene and more than a few automatic rifles, under a tattered rebel flag hanging on the wall.

  He pulls out his cell phone and dials, holding it to his ear as Allison cries on his shoulder.

  There’s ringing in his ear and then a voice crackles over the line, “Detective David Lewis.”

  He turns his head away from her before he replies. “Lewis, I’ve definitely found your man, and I’m pretty sure what I’ve got on him will let the fire department’s arson investigator charge him; you’ll just have to pick him up. I’m bringing his girlfriend in to talk to you.”

  ***

  “Allison!” Calvin screams as he enters the house. “I can see the tire tracks out there! Who was here?”

  He crushes a cigarette out in the ashtray next to the sofa and listens impatiently. There’s no answer, only the hum of Calvin’s grow lamps.

  “Allison! You’d better answer me! It’s gonna be bad if you make me have to come find you!”

  There’s a loud knock at the door. He pulls back the thick yellowed curtains and looks out the front window to see his yard full of flashing red and blue lights.

  “Allison, goddamn it! What did you do?”

  A voice rings over a megaphone outside his door. “Calvin Hocker, this is the police. Come out with your hands above your head.”

  He kicks the television off its stand, and it explodes in a shower of sparks on the floor. Looking at his pistol on the sofa he has a moment of pause, wondering if he could get out alive.

  He shakes his head. There were too many of them out there. He’d have to play this one out. It was just an inconvenience. There’s no way he’d be left to rot in there for long. Jail would only be a brief pause, and then she’d pay for making this happen.

  He lights another cigarette and opens the door. A long drag and exhale with a big toothy grin for the cops, and steps out with his hands up as instructed. They fall on him like a human wave. There’s only grunting and pain for a moment, and then the handcuffs are on and he’s hoisted to his feet and drug to the car where Lewis is waiting for him.

  “Calvin. Long time, no see.” Lewis smiles, mocking him.

  “Not long enough. Don’t you have something better to do faggot? Some asshole that needs fillin’ out there somewhere?”

  It gives Lewis more pleasure than he’d like to admit pushing him down into the car. “Calvin Hocker, you are under arrest. Anything you say can and will be held against you…”

  ***

  I’m lying in bed, falling in and out of sleep, when I hear my phone ring. Picking it up and looking at it, the Caller ID says it’s Frank. He knows I should be asleep; this better be good.

  “Talk to me.”

  “Lewis says they’ve got the guy who lit the house up in a cell downtown. You want me to get you in to question him?” Frank seems smugly proud of himself. I think he has a right to be this time so I say nothing about it.

  “Yeah, set it up for tomorrow night.” I sit up in the bed, put him on speaker, and begin to type it into my phone so I won’t forget, and it occurs to me that Frank can help me with my other ‘Lewis issue.’ “And while you’re at it, tell your buddy Lewis that I had nothing to do with Mikey Moran’s death. He wants me to come in and answer questions. You and I both know that I haven’t spoken to Mikey in more than a year.”

  “Mikey Moran. Now there’s a name I haven’t heard in a while. He’s dead? What happened?” Frank’s gonna be hard to live with for a little while. He just made a bust, and his head swelled. I try to shake it off. Why should it bother me that he’s happy? Maybe it’s because I’m so miserable?

  “According to your old partner he was found yesterday, all shot full of holes at the old train yard. I’ll bet he was skimming from someone who took offense. It wouldn’t be the first time.”

  “I don’t know what he’s gotten mixed up in since he stopped driving for you. Do you even know what he’s been in to?” I sigh as I lie back down. I know he hears it. It should tell him that I’m done with this conversation.

  “Word I’ve heard was he was working for som
e new guy in town, Molder, on small time intimidation and protection bullshit. Probably drugs, poor guy. But that’s what you get when you fuck with me. He’s lucky I let him live after I caught him. You don’t steal from my girls.”

  “I’ll try to point Lewis in a better direction, but he never wants to hear anything about you from me. I can’t promise he won’t still want you to go see him.” He’s such a trooper. He’s earned his bonus this month, and he knows it.

  “That’s fine. Just do something to keep him outta my ass for now, please. I’ve got a lot on my plate as it is.

  CHAPTER 6

  “HOCKER! YOU’VE GOT A VISITOR,” the Deputy Jailer Kenton calls from the door to C block. “Get down here!” He clangs his nightstick against the door to show his impatience.

  Not seeing anything after a couple of minutes, he calls again, “Last warning, Hocker! Let’s go!”

  Calvin takes his time slowly standing from his bunk, putting down the nearly shredded paperback copy of “Raise the Titanic” with a number two pencil as his book mark. He gives himself a look in the foggy mirror above his toilet and gives a nod to Marshall, his cell mate.

  Descending the stairs painfully slowly for effect, he waves at the other prisoners in their cells. He acts like a celebrity. At the bottom of the stairs he gives a wide smile to the guard. He knows this is his ticket home, and he can’t help but piss off anyone in authority here that he can before he goes.

  “Put your hands through the door, Hocker. I’ve got to put your jewelry on before you go see the nice man waiting for you.” Kenton holds the cuffs out and Calvin smiles at him as he slips his hands through the open rectangle in the door.

  “Don’t worry, fat ass. When I sue this place for millions and put everyone here out of work, I’ll make sure you still have a job mowing my yard. I won’t let you starve. I know how hungry a big brown fella like you can get for fried chicken.” He spits the last two words onto the window in the door.