Spookshow: Book 3: The Women in the walls

by Tim McGregor

  “She’s good, huh?” Nick said, huddled beside her in the crowded space.

  “Hypnotic,” Billie hollered back.

  The stage lights dimmed when Parish ended the song, signalling the end of the set. Billie finally tore her eyes from the stage and followed Nick to the bar where he ordered drinks for both of them.

  “I liked that last song she did,” Nick said, handing her a beer. “Do you know what it was?”

  Billie shook her head. “No, but it was beautiful. She said it was a love song for an old flame.”

  “Everyone’s got a past, I guess.”

  He clinked his bottle against hers in a salutation. The date was going well, if that’s what it was. She couldn’t tell. Nick was nice and easy to talk to. Unlike most men she had dated, he didn’t blather on endlessly about himself. He seemed kind.

  So what was the problem? A date, she concluded, involved a certain amount of trepidation or anxiety. None of that was present here. Was she being too quick to judge?

  “You hungry?” Nick asked.

  “I could eat something,” she said. “What are you thinking of?”

  “How do you feel about a kebab?”

  “Sure.”

  Her phone buzzed in her back pocket. She plucked it out and looked at the display, blinking at it like she wasn’t reading the name properly.

  Mockler.

  “Aren’t you going to answer it?”

  “What? Yeah, excuse me for a sec.” Putting the phone to her ear, she turned away from her date. Or non-date, whatever. “Hello.”

  “Billie? It’s Ray. Er... detective Mockler.”

  “Hi.”

  “How are you?”

  She kept her tone cool. “I’m good. What’s up?”

  “I need to talk to you. Are you busy?”

  The words had impact. What could he possibly want? She looked at Nick. “I am busy. Sorry.”

  “Is there a better time? It won’t take long.”

  Billie chewed her lip for a moment, her mind racing along. “I can’t. I’m just real busy right now.”

  “Oh,” he said, his tone withering. “I understand. “Take care then.”

  “You too.”

  She hung up and put the phone away. She looked at her date. “Let’s finish these then get out of here.”

  They had made it as far as two blocks before Billie asked Nick if she could take a rain cheque on the meal. Something had come up, she told him, and she needed to be somewhere. Nick was disappointed but gracious about it, offering to walk her wherever she needed to go. She said it wasn’t necessary, thanked him for a fun night and hurried back down King William Street. Retrieving her phone, she dialled Mockler’s number. He answered on the first ring.

  They had settled on Beasley Park as a place to meet, not far from where she was. He had suggested a bar or a coffee shop but Billie didn’t want to be around other people. Other people meant more of the dead and she didn’t have the strength to keep them out after being at a crowded bar earlier. Settling onto the bench, she gazed at the bowl of the skateboard park, trying to keep her thoughts from racing ahead of herself.

  He had sounded so serious on the phone. What could he possibly want? She hadn’t seen him in almost two months and seeing his name on her phone display had rattled her. She assumed the detective had forgotten all about her. Was Mockler in trouble? Did he need her help in some way? What if, she thought, he had broken up with his fiancée and—

  Stop. Don’t go there, Sybil Culpepper. Don’t even think it.

  She didn’t have long to scold herself for being weak. There was a noise to her left and Raymond Mockler emerged from the parking lot.

  “Hi,” he said. He seemed almost surprised to see her. “I’m glad you came.”

  “Did you think I wouldn’t?”

  “It’s been a while,” he said. “I wasn’t sure you’d even remember me.”

  She almost laughed at that. “My memory isn’t that bad. Sit down.”

  He sat down next to her on the bench and, for a moment, Billie wished she had suggested some other spot. Three boys rolled their boards through the bowl and the rumble of the wheels was loud.

  “We should have brought our skateboards,” he said.

  “Mine’s in the shop.” She turned her head and chanced a glance at him. “How have you been?”

  “Good,” he replied. “I’ve been good.”

  It almost sounded like he was trying to convince himself of that. Or was she reading into it? “You look it. You seem happier than last time I saw you.”

  “Do I?” He scratched at the stubble on his chin. “I had hit a rough patch back then.”

  “That’s good. That you got over it, I mean. Not that you were in a rough patch.” She was tripping over her own words. Be cool. A stupid question bubbled up to the fore of her brain. Don’t ask it, she scolded herself.

  “Everything okay at home? With you and Christina?”

  Mockler leaned back a little, as if to see if she was having him on. “Yeah. Much better. Her depression eased up. So, yeah.”

  She was grateful for the darkness. Billie felt her cheeks burn hot at asking such a bold, stupid thing. Still, something about it irked her. Like the fact that Christina’s depression had lifted because Billie herself had gotten rid of the ghost that was haunting both of them.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “That’s none of my business.”

  “I’m not so sure.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Mockler leaned forward. “You told me once that something was—,” he cleared his throat, trying to get the words out. “Something was haunting me. That it was in my house and making Christina and I sick.”

  Billie went still, as if caught out. She had hoped he’d forgotten all about that.

  “You tried to get rid of it,” he went on. “I dismissed it at the time but things changed after that. I don’t know how and I can’t explain it but it was like a switch had been flipped. This misery left. Things got better.”

  He fell silent. Billie held her breath. The wind picked up, flapping her hair into her eyes. “I’m glad things are better for you,” she finally said. “I honestly am.”

  “I still don’t know what I believe. But whatever you did, it helped. And I’m grateful for that.”

  Mockler didn’t know half the story and she wasn’t about to tell him the whole gruesome tale. She felt her mouth constrict, pushing the emotion away. She couldn’t think of any way to respond.

  He sat up straight, as if he was about to say something but then he frowned and said nothing.

  “What is it?”

  “I already owe you enough,” he grumbled, as if it was painful to speak. “But I’m about to ask for more.”

  It was clear from his face that he was agonizing over something. She smiled at him. “Maybe I should run a tab for you.”

  “You ought to.”

  “Come on, out with it.” She nudged him with her elbow, trying to break the ice. “Just ask.”

  He looked at her. “Have you been following the news?”

  “I have.”

  “Six days ago, a number of bodies were found inside an old warehouse. They’d been there a long time.”

  She perked up. “That’s your case, isn’t it?”

  “How did you know?”

  “I just did. I’ve been watching the news, wondering if I’d see you on TV.”

  “You won’t,” he said. “I steer clear of that stuff.”

  Billie watched the boys roll by on their boards. “Sounds awful. Who were they?”

  “That’s just it.” His eyes fell to the ground at their feet. “I don’t know. I doubt we ever will. I’ve been working this case to the crumbs but I’ve gotten absolutely nowhere.”

  “Sounds frustrating. I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t feel sorry for me.” Then he leaned in again, as if sharing a secret. “There were seven people dumped into a pit like they were just garbage. And I can’t even give them back t
heir names.”

  She couldn’t stop herself from trying to picture it. What it must have been like stumbling upon that scene. She remembered the jolt she had felt the other night, the one she knew was from him. “That must have been awful to see.”

  “It was.” He looked up at the sky but there were no stars to see. He took a deep breath. “Billie, I’m not a big believer in spooky stuff. The paranormal or whatever it’s called. But I don’t dismiss it entirely. Not anymore.”

  Billie felt her spine lock up. She didn’t like where this was going.

  “The police force has brought in psychics on certain cases in the past. The really tough ones. They keep it quiet, of course. But desperate times, desperate measures? The rules get bent a little.”

  She wanted to stop him there. “What exactly are you asking me?”

  His eyes rose up and locked onto hers. “Will you take a walk with me? At the site, where the bodies were found. Tell me what you see, or feel, or anything at all.”

  “Don’t ask that of me.”

  “I wouldn’t ask if I wasn’t desperate, Billie.”

  Leaning back against the bench, she had the odd sensation that she was deflating. Like someone had poked her with a pin and everything was slowly leaking out. This was why he wanted to meet. He didn’t want to just see her or to talk or catch-up or any of those silly things she had been stupid enough to let herself imagine.

  He needed a favour. He needed help. He wanted a supernatural shortcut.

  Fuck him.

  “I can’t do it,” she finally said. “You have no idea what you’re asking.”

  She got to her feet.

  He did the same. “I know it’s asking a lot—”

  “Do you?” Her tone was lethal but she couldn’t rein it back in. “Do you know what it’s like, keeping them out? They’re everywhere. I can’t turn around without tripping over them. And they all want something from me. It takes everything I have to block them out. And even then, I can’t always do it. It’s exhausting.”

  His hands went up, as if in surrender. “Okay. I shouldn’t have asked.”

  She wasn’t finished. Everything had been bottled up for so long, she couldn’t stop it coming out in a torrent. “You want me to walk into this awful place where something bad happened? Why? Because you can’t do your job?”

  “Easy.” He jerked back, as if bitten. “It was selfish of me. I get it.”

  Since her life had turned upside down that day back in the summer, there wasn’t anyone she could talk to about this. Her best friend didn’t want to hear about it because she didn’t believe in it. Her other two friends were open but neither of them took it seriously. That left Detective Mockler, who, by asking for help, had tripped a wire.

  She couldn’t breathe. Just leave. Before the torrent becomes a volcano.

  Too late for that now. She pointed an accusatory finger at him. “This is all your fault! My life was normal until you knocked me into a coma. Now my life is shit! It’s like everyday is Halloween.”

  That stung and it showed on his face but he kept his mouth shut.

  “And then you ask me to help you?” She spun on her heel and walked away. “I fucking hate you!”

  12

  “ARE YOU DONE yet?” Tammy hollered. “I’m starving.”

  “In a minute,” Jen said. “I can’t get this to balance.”

  There were still two customers browsing the racks inside the Doll House. Jen, ever mindful of sales and customer service, would often push the closing time back if anyone lingered in the little shop on James Street. The ladies respected this but Tammy could get impatient.

  The four of them had planned to have dinner together, meeting at the shop first as usual. Kaitlin and Tammy sat on the church pew talking while Jen hovered at the counter, reconciling her books while the last customers of the day perused the designs.

  Billie sat on the floor, leafing through a magazine without registering a single word of it. She should have just bailed on the dinner plans, knowing she’d be lousy company tonight. Her gut was still in knots over the incident with Mockler but she wasn’t in the mood to dissect it all over pizza and beer with the ladies. If anything, she was more angry with herself for thinking his need to talk was more than what it was. How stupid could she be?

  Her reaction had been over the top and she regretted her harsh words. He didn’t deserve that. Still, she felt a bit used by the whole matter. Like she had nothing better to do with her time than help him. The nerve of it.

  “I give up!” Jen snarled.

  Tammy looked up. “Was that your stomach rumbling?”

  Jen snapped the laptop shut. “I can’t look at this anymore. Let’s get out of here.”

  “Why the long face, muchacha?”

  “Nothing,” said Billie. “Why?”

  Tammy set her drink down. “You haven’t said a word all night.”

  After a few minutes of dithering, they had settled on Thai food. It was busy and loud but the dim lighting and first round of drinks took the edge off. Jen was exhausted, Kaitlin snippy over a perceived slight from the waitress and Tammy was oblivious to anyone’s condition until the drinks arrived. Halfway through her wine, she had zeroed in on Billie like a bloodhound.

  “Spill, Culpepper,” Tammy said. “Who died?”

  Everyone, she thought. That’s the problem. What she said was “Nothing.”

  The other two leaned forward, eager to hear her out. All three of them wore masks of wry skepticism, like they weren’t buying a word of it.

  “What?” Billie reached for her drink. “It’s nothing.”

  “Do we have to go through this every time?” Tammy asked. “Quit beating around the bush. Who is he?”

  Billie sneered. “Who said it was about a guy?”

  “Please.” said Jen.

  The ladies stared at her with expectant eyes like grand inquisitors interrogating a heretic. Billie was trapped.

  “A friend asked me to help him with something,” she said. “But I can’t. And he shouldn’t have asked.”

  Tammy rolled her eyes heavenward. “Wow. Could you be anymore vague?”

  “Who was it?” asked Jen.

  Kaitlin mocked up a naughty lilt to her voice. “And what kind of favour are we talking about?”

  There was no escape. She should have bailed when she had the chance. “He’s a cop,” Billie said. “He wanted me to help him with an investigation.”

  “Investigation?” Jen said, jerking up in surprise. “Why would they want your help?”

  Kaitlin looked up. “The police use psychics some times, but only when it’s a really tough case.”

  “Not this again,” Jen pushed back. “The ghost thing?”

  “What case?” asked Tammy. “What happened?”

  “I shouldn’t say anything,” Billie said. “But it’s a gruesome one.”

  Kaitlin snapped her fingers. “The bodies found in that warehouse!”

  Billie felt their eyes burn holes in her. She nodded in agreement. “Yep.”

  “So what’s the problem?” Kaitlin shrugged. “Tell him you’ll do it.”

  “It’s complicated.”

  Tammy straightened up. “Ah-ha! That brings us back to the question of who.”

  The scrutiny of her friends intensified, the grand inquisitors in full glory. Billie caved to the pressure. “His name’s Mockler. He’s a detective.”

  Kaitlin slammed the table like she was at a bingo hall. “I knew it!”

  “Mockler?” said Tammy. “What a stupid name.”

  Jen strained to hear them above the noise. “Who’s he?”

  “The guy who knocked her into the harbour,” Kaitlin said. She elbowed Jen. “He was at the shop after the fire too. Remember?”

  Billie felt her face run hot. She hated scrutiny, even if it was friendly. “Never mind.”

  “So what’s the big deal?” Tammy asked, as if the solution couldn’t be any simpler. “Help him out.”

  “It�
��s not that simple.”

  Kaitlin was on the edge of her seat, eager for details. “He wants you to go down there, doesn’t he? Where the bodies were found.”

  Billie looked for the waitress, hoping the food would arrive and get her out of this.

  “What’s the problem?” Tammy said. “Just go help him.”

  “I’m not doing that anymore. Ever.”

  Kaitlin furrowed her brow. “What do you mean? You quit? Can you do that?”

  Billie shook her head. “No. But I don’t want to go looking for it.”

  “This doesn’t make sense,” Tammy said. “You like this guy, don’t you?”

  “No.”

  The inquisitors hardened their eyes to Billie, smelling a lie.

  Tammy laughed. “You’re a shitty liar, Bee.”

  Jen sat up straight. “Wait a minute. I remember this guy. He was at the re-opening party.”

  “Yeah,” Tammy concurred. “Tall guy, crooked nose.”

  “It’s not crooked,” Billie said.

  “Isn’t he married?” Kaitlin asked.

  Jen’s jaw hit the floor. “What?”

  “He’s not married. He’s engaged.”

  “Same thing,” Jen bristled, suddenly offended. “Billie, that’s awful. You can’t mess around with a guy who’s engaged!”

  “I’m not!” Billie felt her anger overshoot her good sense. Some of that same frustration that had unloaded on Mockler was bubbling to the surface again. “I’m not messing with anybody. That’s why I said no to him.”

  “Oh,” Jen said, retreating. “Well, still.”

  “What do you think I am?”

  “I didn’t mean anything,” Jen said, her tone sharpening. “It’s just wrong. And it’s dangerous and you should know better.”

  “Easy ladies,” Tammy interjected, playing referee.

  Everyone reached for their glass at the same time. “Is the food ever gonna get here?” said Tammy.