In the Dead of Night

by Aiden James

  It turned out to be a nice distraction to laugh about amid all the stress and unfortunate events happening around us. As I mentioned earlier, Sunday evening was when Tony and Ricky resumed their friendship with me. However, if not for our earlier meeting that day in Tom’s studio, where we discussed our meager findings from Saturday while game planning for the next ‘official’ PTW studio show that had been confirmed for January 13, the détente might’ve continued indefinitely.

  In retrospect, I think the forgiveness on Tony’s part was aided by the studio’s confirmation that our individual contracts would be renewed in January in preparation for next spring’s bed and breakfast tour. Also, the surrounding states of Alabama, Georgia, North Carolina, and Kentucky were being added to our scope of venues, which in turn meant a much bigger road production budget to work with.

  “Man, are you stoked?” asked Justin, shortly after the meeting ended and we prepared for the catered party that Tom was throwing for us inside his home.

  “I’m feeling pretty good about things,” I said, grabbing a few cheese cubes and crackers from a goodie tray in the living room to tide me over until dinner, which was set to begin at 6:00 p.m. sharp. “The spring tour should be a blast—especially if it’s true that we’re staying at the Emma Tremaine House in Savannah. Fiona and I encountered a ghost there on our trip down to Tybee Island for our fourth anniversary.”

  “Sounds like fun,” he said, but not anywhere near as excited as he was a moment ago.

  Justin loves to investigate spirits. However, like me, he’d prefer they’d not be standing near his bed looking at him when he awakens in the middle of the night. I’m sure he remembers, at least vaguely, that’s exactly what happened to Fiona and me at the Tremaine House. Totally freaked me out, man…but at least it was the ghost of a middle-aged gentleman who tipped his hat to me before disappearing.

  “Look…if it gets bad enough, you and I can grab a room at the Hilton and Lakisha and Fiona can deal with the ghosts that keep watch over the house—or any other haunted place for that matter,” I assured him.

  He chuckled, and my words seemed to lift the cloud that had briefly settled over his countenance. His smile grew wider when he glanced at his fiancé, who stood with Fiona and Michelle near the kitchen. She paused to flash her gorgeous smile our way, while raising a Killian’s in salute. Strikingly attractive, Lakisha was once a cheerleader for the Titans. Her greatest feature is her eyes, which are often more iridescently green than Fiona’s.

  “I think I want what she’s drinking…. By the way, y’all should get a picture taken together tonight before you leave,” I said, referring to the hired photographer that Tom had also splurged on. Justin joined me as I walked over to the kitchen, where the beer and ale awaited us. “You two look really good, and God only knows the next time you and I will be dressed up like this.” I laughed.

  “We’re doing that on New Year’s Eve when we double date at the Cascades Restaurant in the Opryland Hotel. Remember?”

  “Yeah, that’s right…I almost forgot.”

  He rolled his eyes at me.

  “No, man, I remembered we were getting together with you and Keesh,” I assured him, chuckling myself this time. “I just thought we’d be slumming it at some Italian place downtown.”

  “Dude, everyone dresses up for New Year’s.”

  “We don’t…well not always.”

  “Well you should…since you never know where the red hot parties are gonna be. Gotta be prepared.”

  “Sounds like Boy Scouts.”

  “It also goes for people who want to have a very cool time out on the town, on the best night of the year for that shit.”

  He shot me an imploring look that said I better be ready to dress to the nines that night, and that my beige brushed corduroy coat and faded jeans look wouldn’t cut it for New Year’s—despite the Ralph Lauren dress sweater and viper Durangos.

  Hell, I was comfortable and endearing, I thought, although in a very rock n’ roll sort of way.

  “Gotta be prepared for what?”

  Fiona smiled impishly as she said this, and I saw from her half-empty bottle of American/Irish ale that she was already getting a head start on the festivities and would soon require another Killian’s. I hope Tom had the foresight to purchase enough liquor for the night. The twelve pack of Heineys I brought would only go so far.

  Dressed almost as festively as Lakisha, my wife wore a sleek ensemble she had been dying to try out since early November, when she used a bonus check from the bookstore to do some upscale shopping at the Green Hills Mall. To this day, I have no idea how much the check was or the tab from the boutiques she visited. But, she works hard for her money and we do a pretty good job of living within our means. Besides, she looks great.

  “Justin says I’ll have to clean up my wardrobe for New Year’s Eve,” I said, my tone dipping toward melancholy as Detective Silver approached us after stepping through the front door.

  Considering all that had happened recently, I didn’t mind his presence as much as I had in the past. But I hate the fact he so obviously wishes he stood in my shoes in regard to my wife. His cunning smile easily betrays the darker desires of his heart…. Whoa, wait a minute. Are you kidding me? An attractive, blue-eyed blonde was following close behind him. And, the two were holding hands as he led her toward us.

  It must be the gal my wife had mentioned in passing a few weeks back. At the time, I blew it off, thinking ole Mr. Ed would never have eyes for anyone other than Fiona. Looks like I might’ve been wrong on that one.

  “Well, I’ll be damned,” whispered Justin, equally surprised.

  To a casual observer, it surely appeared that our admiration was strictly for the trophy girlfriend he was now introducing to Lakisha, Michelle, and Fiona. I actually found myself liking the guy a little more…or at least this new wrinkle in the detective’s persona. He had found time in his busy life for a genuine girlfriend. She smiled sweetly as she was introduced.

  So far so good. If she turns out as nice and lovely as she seems, then maybe he ain’t all that bad. Of course, admitting that possibility would impinge seriously on my ability to hate him.

  I was torn, and found myself ambivalent about whether I wanted this girl to be a wonderful lady, or not. Granted, the higher part of my soul would be relieved if I no longer harbored resentment toward Detective Ed. But the little devil on my shoulder has greatly enjoyed my jealousy until now.

  It all depended on whether Fiona hit it off with this new girl, and if the rest of us liked her, too.

  “This is my husband, Jimmy, Cindy,” said Fiona, taking over the introductions from Ed, who looked surprised and pleased. He really likes this girl…damn. “And, this is Justin, Lakisha’s fiancé.”

  “I’ve heard about both of you, and it is an honor to meet you, Jimmy and Justin.”

  Yep, she sure seems nice. Eddie…I hereby solemnly promise to try to think kinder thoughts about you when in your presence. Maybe even when I’m not in your presence. Oh, God, this is going to be so frigging hard to get used to.

  “You’re a funny man, Jimbo,” said Fiona, chuckling as she motioned for me to take her near-empty bottle from her. Meanwhile, everyone else wore a perplexed look as if trying to decipher her statement to me. But I knew what she was getting at. If I didn’t want her commenting on my thoughts, I needed to cease the mental debate about Dick Tracy. “I’ll take something a little lighter, since Tom said dinner would be served in about…in about twenty minutes.”

  She giggled after glancing at the stately grandfather clock next to the dining room, where the little hand was a lot closer to the ‘9’ than the ‘8’. I knew right then who would be driving home that night.

  “Just don’t bring her a can of Miller cow-pee…Jimbo!”

  Great. Thanks a lot, sweetie, for giving Justin something new to tease me about. And, why in the hell did he bring up Angie’s favorite name for Tom’s choice of beer?

  “I’ll be right back, s
weethearts.”

  At least it induced a little laughter that I heard as I moved into the kitchen. Jason and Jerry were helping themselves to a couple of the Heinekens I brought. Hell, there’s plenty for everyone, unless someone wants another.

  “Well, it looks like we won’t have to worry about that guy you saw yesterday showing up at any more investigations,” said Jerry. He smiled and retrieved a couple of Heineys for me, since he overheard my wife’s request and saw me without a brew in my hand. “I’ll bet you’re relieved.”

  “I am…sort of. Thanks,” I said, pausing to twist off the caps. “But I think we’re all a little bummed that this tour’s results might not make it onto the air until February, despite getting our contracts renewed. Hey, congratulations to you both for getting to join us for the spring tour.”

  “Thanks,” said Jerry, and it was enthusiastically echoed by Jason, who motioned he was headed outside to assist Tom with the ‘extra treats’ he had prepared in addition to the catered entrees for the evening. “We’re both looking forward to it. Maybe by then, Marilee and Paul will have placed Grandpa in a nursing facility, and we can do the investigation that got canceled the other night…. If you all still want to do it, of course.”

  “Of course…and my guess is it will probably be included in our schedule of places to visit after April,” I said, but instead thinking I might be the one giving such an investigation an enthusiastic thumbs down. There was something inherently evil about the twin’s family farm in McMinnville, and I had no intention of supporting a return trip. “We will likely also visit the one Civil War destination we had to cut from our tour back in November.”

  “Oh…I didn’t realize anything had been canceled,” he said, twisting the cap from his beer and taking a healthy drink. “So Fort Negley wasn’t the original last stop?”

  “No, it sure as hell wasn’t,” I said, releasing a low sigh and wondering if he had seen the location mentioned before it was removed, since in fact, it was the original location for our finale. I stepped toward the living room, as I didn’t want Fiona to wait any longer for her next brew.

  “Where was the last stop supposed to be?” he persisted.

  “A historic site out near Knoxville called Mossy Creek.”

  In truth, the Civil War ghost tour was supposed to end with an investigation of Mossy Creek the weekend before Christmas—next weekend. But the station staff removed it, since it wasn’t a major battle. The folks in New York were never excited about it, especially after learning the site doesn’t come with the grander landmarks and history that locations like the Carnton Plantation and Fort Negley proudly boast.

  “Who says we can’t go there on our own?”

  To be honest, I had never considered the idea. Once the location was scrapped, and Tom and Jackie were ready to forget about it and plan out the other investigations. But, Jerry’s suggestion immediately appealed to my desire for a little more ghost hunting fun before the year ended.

  “You know, man…that’s actually a great idea,” I said, before heading back into the living room. “I’ll bring it up to the group later on.”

  “Sounds like a plan, Jimmy.”

  I almost mentioned it when I rejoined the others. But since Ricky and Tony had joined our little party, to obviously get a closer look at Ed’s new girl, I decided to wait for a better opportunity to spring the notion on them all.

  “So, are we on good speaking terms again?”

  I was hoping that Tony would go for my cynical mirth to break the ice.

  “You are forgiven, bro,” he said. “At least for now.”

  He tried to keep a straight face, but soon the laughter in his eyes was too much for his stern expression to hide.

  “Ah, what the hell, man—we both forgive you,” said Ricky, tapping his bottle of the ‘house cow-pee’ against my brew. Tony did the same, followed by Justin and a salute from everyone else. We were one big happy family once again.

  And just when I thought things might turn awkward for a moment, since the small talk amongst everyone else was dying down, Tom stepped in the living room to announce that dinner was ready.

  “Everyone grab a plate from the kitchen and work your way through the dining room!”

  As we had two nights before, Fiona and I moved to the back of the line, as we had enjoyed a later lunch than the rest of the gang. It also gave me a chance to present Jerry’s idea to her.

  “That sounds like it could be fun,” she said, although much more guardedly than my response to Jerry was earlier. “But, Lisa and Nick have already begun editing the five weekends of video shots from the camera crew along with what Tom sent them through last Monday. The crazy fight scenes and the few orbs we caught yesterday will be forwarded to them tonight, and then that’s it.”

  “So, I guess we’ll be at their mercy in deciding what sticks and what gets cut, huh?” I said, unable to mask my disappointment. Maybe it’s the creative side of me that likes to have a say in what goes down. It brought back the bad scene I endured with my band in New York back in August. “Is that why Sally, Sam, and Brandon aren’t here tonight?”

  “Yes,” she said, keeping her voice down, since Ed suddenly glanced over his shoulder at us. He and Cindy were a few spots ahead, behind Justin and Lakisha, who were just ahead of Tony and Ricky. “The station thought it would be awkward since they frown on the staff fraternizing with their clients. So, Tom agreed not to invite them.”

  “That sucks.”

  Well maybe it did, and maybe it didn’t. Since alcohol was present, and I had just noticed an enormous punch bowl that was filled to the brim with some sort of spiked holiday concoction, maybe the station justifiably feared the revelation of proprietary information while its employees were under the influence. Production secrets, certainly, but I’ve also attended work-related parties in the past where an inebriated state has led to some brutal honesty among people who normally smile and get along well when they work together.

  Why take the chance on hurt feelings when we would have to work in close proximity to this same camera crew after the New Year?

  Meanwhile, the spread that Tom procured for us was amazing. Everything from sugar hams to roast turkey—with all the fixings. And on display for dessert was an array of pies, cakes, and chocolate dipped petits fours.

  Tom also provided several bottles of wine from our group’s favorite California vineyard, Frog’s Leap.

  Good stuff, and before long we had stuffed ourselves with the delectable offerings.

  But the night was far from over, and even though there were a few loose business ends that needed to be completed by Monday morning, we spent the rest of the evening playing Pictionary, Taboo, and Balderdash. Really it was a wonderful time, and as the hours wore on, I found myself equally enjoying the company of Jason and Jerry, as well as Ed and his new sweetheart, Cindy.

  I would’ve never believed it possible before that night, but I found myself liking everyone better. Maybe it was the wine, or perhaps it was the need to forget about all of the bullshit and sadness we had successfully tiptoed around while putting a fairly successful Civil War investigative tour together. Regardless, I felt the promise of better things to come. It was my recurrent thought while driving my intoxicated lady home around midnight.

  Chapter Fifteen

  As wonderful as life had seemed Sunday night, it all came to a devastating crash by Monday afternoon. Actually, the fall started sometime after midnight, but I wasn’t made aware of the violent attack on Nick Rhodes at his posh Green Hills estate until I returned to the bookstore after my lunch break.

  Becky Stevens was the first to alert me that something was wrong—something way beyond my wife’s hangover from the night before.

  “She’s back in her office, Jimmy,” she said. Her cheerful disposition from earlier had been squashed. “Someone’s been hurt very badly.”

  Ah shit, not again!

  Becky assured me that she was fine watching the floor for me while I went back to Fi
ona’s office. The door was closed and I heard her weeping inside. I immediately tried to open the door, but it was locked. My wife didn’t respond to my knocks or my calls to her, until I pleaded with her to let me come in and be there for her.

  “N-Nick’s in the hospital!” she cried. “I can’t take it any more…I just can’t!”

  Even if she hadn’t said anything, the look in her eyes told me this latest tragic event had obliterated her fragile cover. She was broken, and when I took her into my arms she nearly collapsed.

  I closed the door behind us, and brought her over to a small couch in the corner of her office. I lowered her down onto the glorified futon and then held her tightly, assuring her over and over that I was there for her and would be her rock to get her through this dark time. She nodded while tightening her grasp around my neck and shoulders.

  Fiona cried for nearly an hour in my arms, and I was grateful that Becky had allowed my wife and me this time together uninterrupted. I waited patiently for Fiona to regain enough composure to tell to me what had happened.

  “They went after Nick instead of us.”

  “Are we talking about the hoodie man?” My query was gentle, without any force or agenda behind it.

  “Yes…I think so,” she said, and then drew in a deep breath. “The police say they don’t know, but it makes sense that it’s the same guys—including the one we’ve caught glimpses of. They beat Nick so badly that he’s in a coma at St. Thomas, and Jackie said they don’t know if he’s going to make it.”

  “How did it happen…do you know?”

  “He was ambushed after taking a shower, and beaten savagely with his own golf clubs….” New tears coursed their way down both cheeks. “They could’ve killed him, but didn’t. Whoever did this wants him to live and suffer.”