“No. She’s my best friend.”
“He’s going to tell you how they met when they were four years old, yada, yada, yada. Sum it up: They do everything together but make love.” Kevin pointed a chopstick at Will. “He doesn’t know it because he’s straight, but they’re meant for each other. She doesn’t know it either.”
“Really?”
“Kevin . . .” Will was glad he was eating Kung Pao. It gave him an excuse to be red in the face.
“She’s a woman, she must suspect it. Will probably does too. Will? Do you ever interpret your own dreams? Bet’cha she’s in there.”
“Kevin, we’ve known each other too long—”
“To mess up your friendship.” Kevin rolled his eyes. “She saw him through three bad marriages. Will, don’t feel bad. Most gay guys are as bad at picking the right partner as straight guys are.” He looked at Eric. “It’s so romantic. You should see them look at each other. They don’t even know they’re doing it. Not yet. It’s the oldest story in the book, you know?”
“Kevin,” Eric said. “You’re embarrassing Will. And me. Do you talk about Barry and me like this?”
“No, sorry.”
“How do you put up with him?” Eric asked.
“I’m not sure. It has something to do with my inability to stay mad at him for more than five minutes.”
“I hear you.”
“Tick tock. Tick tock.” Kevin rapped his chopsticks. “Eric, time to sing for your supper. You said you had something to tell me about our haunted house.”
“Oh, Lord, Kevin,” Will moaned. “No more haunted houses. Please!”
Eric looked at him sharply. “Are you hearing about hauntings?”
“Just one or two.”
“We’re getting way more intruder calls than usual. Normal people, scared to death, phoning from their beds or in their closets. They think they’ve got a burglar or worse in their houses. We get there and there’s no sign of forced entry.” He paused. “We get those kind of calls pretty often, but they’ve doubled lately.”
“Are people calling in about ghosts?” Will asked.
“No.” The cop grinned. “I guess the ones who think they’ve got ghosts all come to you. As far as I know. You want me to check with Sergeant Thursday? He’s in charge of graveyard right now. He might have some stories.”
“Sergeant Thursday?” Will laughed. “You’re kidding.”
“He’s not kidding. Sergeant Jeff Thursday. Dah-da-da-dah!” Kevin laughed. “He’s a cutie, too. Too bad he’s straight.” Kevin turned serious. “Now, tell us what you found out about the house.”
Will tried rolling his eyes, but it did no good.
25
The voices wouldn’t stop. Well, they would—Mickey was only hearing them once or twice an hour, but he sure as hell couldn’t stop thinking about them. He was being watched like a lab rat by men, at least two, and official, probably military by the sound of them.
Pete was military for a long time and even though he was civilian now, he’d worked black ops and intelligence. Sometimes, after a couple beers, he’d tell Mickey stories about missions, how he’d assassinate people. Great stories, though sometimes they sure sounded a lot like movies Mickey had seen. Like when he’d told him the story of his trek up a Colombian river to find and terminate a crazy Army general who had founded some sort of weird empire and liked to cut off people’s heads. That was Apocalypse Now.
Does he really think I’m that stupid? Sometimes Pete really pissed him off when he tried passing off a movie as his own tale. He even ripped off the camel race from Lawrence of Arabia. Mickey always forgave him, though, because he only said that shit when he was a little drunk. And some of the stories were true, probably.
A few times, after a sixer, he hinted at different kinds of adventures. Once, they’d watched The Manchurian Candidate, which was about the military creating assassins through mind control, hypnosis. Pete loved that movie. He said the stuff in the movie was all true, that he knew lots more about it but was sworn to secrecy. He’d say that there were way more sophisticated ways of controlling men, but that if he told him, he’d have to kill him.
Pete was always saying that. It was his favorite line. “How many more installs we got today, Pete?” “Well, I could tell you, Mickey Rat, but if I did, I’d have to kill you.” “Pete, you ever meet a president?” “Well, Mickey Rat, I could tell you, but I’d have to kill you.” Pete thought it was funny. He never got tired of it.
Sometimes Mickey got real tired of it.
When Pete said that stuff about mind control, which wasn’t often, and wasn’t detailed, Mickey always got the shivers. He wondered if Pete still knew those guys from when he did that stuff. He wondered if the voices had something to do with it.
Maybe they’re watching Pete through me. Maybe they want to kill him! He almost hoped they did, in a way, but he was pretty sure they were after Mickey himself because he knew too much. He shivered. He needed to do something to keep the invisible men out of his mind, whether they were after him or Pete or both of them. He couldn’t have them finding out the stuff he and Pete had done over the years, like how they’d scared Andy Faircloud to death. Maybe they already know.
But they were still talking about him. They maybe knew a lot, but not everything, and as long as he had secrets—even if he wasn’t sure what they were—he’d stay alive.
He picked up his clipboard to double-check the address of the next install. It was down off Main Street, in his old neighborhood. He didn’t recognize the name, and he prayed to Holy Shit that there wouldn’t be any animals around, especially dogs. Pete knew he was nervous around animals, but he didn’t know how nervous. He could barely move. Even that fluffy cat at Pete’s shrink-brother’s house threw a scare into him like it was a grizzly bear or something. Pete would probably fire him if he knew how scared he was. He’d laugh at him, too.
He turned off Main and navigated the maze of streets, going out of his way to avoid seeing the house he grew up in. If he saw it, he’d have nightmares about Daddy’s mastiffs. He wondered if Will the Shrink would say he was nuts. Maybe there was medicine now to stop phobias. He was pretty sure that’s what he had. Shrinks were doctors, they didn’t tell if you visited them. The shrink lady on The Sopranos was as good as a priest that way. Better, probably. He didn’t have to tell Will the Shrink about the voices—he’d put him in a nuthouse for sure—but maybe he could ask about the animal thing. He was a nice guy. Nicer than Pete.
Mickey couldn’t believe what he was thinking of doing. If he told Pete, Pete would have to kill him.
Really. He probably would kill him. He’d be afraid of what he might tell him. But he wouldn’t tell him anything but about his thing about animals. Instead, he would get some medicine or something to help him hide it.
He pulled up in front of a modest two-story Cape Cod, an old house with a nice fresh coat of paint— gray with blue trim. A white picket fence surrounded it. He got out of the van and got his toolbox, then went to the gate and almost fainted when he heard a dog bark. “Save me, save me, save me,” he whispered, and looked down. It was a wiener dog, littler than Will Banning’s cat. Its tail was up and wagging. It was friendly, dancing on its stubby legs in anticipation.
It might as well have been a wolf. Mickey took a step backwards and just stood there, not knowing what to do. Pete would fire him for being such a coward. He couldn’t leave. Finally, he looked up, saw that the main door of the house was open, the entrance covered only by a screen door. “Hello?” he called. The dog wagged and barked again. “Hello? Caledonia Cable. Hello?” He looked at the order sheet. “Mr. McCobb? Mrs. McCobb?”
A woman appeared in the doorway. “The gate’s not locked. Come on in.”
“I’m allergic to dogs, Mrs. McCobb.”
“Oh, I’m sorry.” She came out, a pleasant woman in her late sixties. She scooped up the dog. “I’ll put him in our bedroom. You just come on in.” She turned and disappeared into the hou
se, taking the miniature wolf with her.
Mickey followed. Scared of a wiener dog. He decided he would go see the shrink. Then he made himself decide not to, in case the men—the voices—were listening. He’d have to block them from his head before thinking anything but doodly-crap for now. Maybe he’d find out how on the Internet. You could find anything there. Okay, but I’m not really going to find out. He thought that thought really hard, then made himself think about doing his job.
26
“I did a little digging,” Officer Eric Hoyle said as he deftly manipulated his chopsticks. He looked at Will. “Something wrong?”
“I just don’t know how anyone can eat rice with those things.”
“It’s sticky rice,” Kevin said dismissively. “So what did you dig up, Eric?”
“In 1966, a family named Cockburn lived in your house.” Eric paused so that Kevin could snicker. “Got that out of your system?”
“For the moment.”
“Jason and Carrie Cockburn had been married eight years. They had two kids, but both died of crib death.”
“Ooooh,” Kevin murmured. “That sounds suspicious.”
“SIDS?” Will asked. “Sudden infant death syndrome twice in the same family?”
“Yeah. There were cursory investigations, but the coronor said crib death in the reports—I guess that was before they called it SIDS. Considering what happened later, maybe they weren’t accidents.”
“So we might have baby ghosts, too.”
Will shot him a look. “You don’t have any ghosts, Kev. ”
“If you’d let me tell you about it, you’d believe me.”
“After Eric tells his story, you can tell me what you think you saw.” Will knew they were nearly out of time already, so Kevin wouldn’t be able to go on and on if he had to wait his turn.
“Hurry up, Eric. What happened?”
“We got several calls each year about their loud fights. Jason beat up Carrie, but she never pressed charges. Back then, cops couldn’t arrest an abuser on their own unless the wife wanted to press charges. She always said she ran into the door or tripped or fell off a ladder.”
“Go on,” Kevin urged. “What happened?”
“Murder-suicide. She shot him with a .44 Magnum, then put the gun in her mouth and blew her brains out.”
“She died in the living room, right?”
“How’d you know?”
“I saw the ghost. But, crap, I didn’t know there were two of them. Where’d she shoot him?”
“In the face.”
Kevin cringed. “I mean in what room?”
“Oh, sorry. I believe it was in the living area as well.” Eric stood and retrieved his jacket from a hook on the door. “I copied a couple photos.” He pulled folded papers from the jacket pocket. “Want to see them?”
Kevin’s upper lip twitched. “I guess. Wait. Show the woman to Will first. Will, I’m going to tell you what she looks like. That’ll prove I saw her ghost.”
“No, it won’t.” Will accepted the copy.
“Well, it’d prove it to anyone else. It’ll make you wonder.”
Will unfolded the page, which had two reduced photos on it, one a body shot and one just the head. His stomach lurched.
“Yellow dress,” began Kevin.
“This is black and white.”
“He’s right. In the report it says she had on a yellow dress.”
Kevin looked pleased. “The dress is just sodden with blood. Her jaw’s hanging off, she has dark hair, the bullet blew a big hole and there are pointed pieces of bones sticking out of the hair on the top of her head. Brains all over the place. Her eyes were kind of little and deeply set. Brown, I think. Piercing.”
“Her eyes are closed.”
“She looked at me, Will. Eric, what’s the report say?”
“Dark brown hair, brown eyes.”
Triumphantly, Kevin put his hand out to Will. “Give.”
“Gladly.” He handed it over and when Kevin saw it, the look of recognition on his face convinced Will that he had indeed seen something.
“You want to see Jason Cockburn too?” Eric held out the other page.
“No,” Kevin said. “If I look, I’ll have nightmares. If he shows up on his own, and I’ve seen the photo, Will won’t believe me, right, Will?”
Will tried to smile. It was a failure.
Eric tried to hand the page to Will, but he shook his head. “I’ve seen enough.”
“This bothers you? You’re a doctor.”
“Not that kind of doctor.” He could feel Chen’s fine cooking getting ready to leave his body the same way it came in. Akwardly, he pushed back his chair and stumbled to his feet. “If you’ll excuse me.”
“Are you all right, Doc?” Eric started to take his arm.
“I’m fine. My brother died from a shotgun blast when I was a kid. This is a little close to home. Excuse me.”
“Jesus, Will,” Kevin said as he was going out the door. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know you saw him!”
Will didn’t stop to reply.
27
“What was all that about?” Eric asked. “He looked like he was going to lose his lunch.”
“Yeah, I think he was. At least it’s not digested yet, so it won’t taste bad coming up.”
“Kevin, that’s disgusting.”
“Not as disgusting as it would be in an hour.” Kevin looked at Eric. “He was the youngest of three brothers. His oldest brother, Michael, was some kind of god to him, I guess. His middle brother is Pete Banning, owner of the cable company.”
“Oh yeah, nice guy. He called and wants to stop by personally tonight to show Barry and me how the new cable box works.”
“It’s a cable box. What’s to know? It’s the same as the old one, but you get more stations and a new remote. He probably just wants to hit you up to buy more systems or something.”
“You don’t like him?”
“No. I think he’s a sleaze. He screwed one of Will’s wives.”
“One of his wives?”
“Three-time loser. He picks ice queens. Gold diggers. Well, he did. He’s sworn off women now. Which means he’s finally ready to realize what he really wants is right under his nose.”
“You mean Dr. Maewood?”
“Who else? He’s afraid to make a move because it could ruin their friendship.”
Eric shrugged his eyebrows. “It could.”
“Trust the Love Fairy, Eric. It won’t ruin anything. He’s just a big dope. So’s she.” He saw the time. “Crap. I have to go open up. Anyway, if anybody knows anything about Michael’s death, it’d be Maggie. Will doesn’t talk about it. All I really know is that the three brothers were out shooting and there was some kind of accident. Michael’s gun went off somehow and it was really ugly.”
“You want me to look up the police report?”
“No. It was just an accident anyway.”
“There’d be a report since a gun was involved.”
“No. There’s nothing more to it and frankly, I’d feel like I was peeping on him. It wouldn’t be right.”
“Yeah. But what about Pete Banning? You really think he’s a scumbag?”
“Yeah. You know, he’s the kind of guy who wouldn’t think twice about selling a crappy used car to a poor old lady. He’s a salesman through and through.” He paused. “And Will can’t stand him, so out of loyalty, I can’t either.”
“Oh? He hates his own brother?”
“Stop being such a cop. Pete was a bully and he picked on Will like crazy.”
Eric nodded. “I can see the bully thing. He seems really nice, but he’s pushy, too. Thanks for the warning. Barry and I won’t let him sell us anything.” He put on his jacket.
“Hey, let me have that other copy after all.”
“Really?” Eric handed it over and Kevin slipped it into his own pocket. “It won’t destroy your credibility?”
“I’m not going to look at it unless I see another g
host. Then I’ll check it out. Hey, you’re a cop. Why are you so open-minded about this?”
“Stuff happens. You know that old B&B out on Peneverde Road?”
“Giardia’s Inn? I thought that closed down last winter. Did you ever stay there? The food was awful!”
“It is closed, for renovations, but the owners still live there. We’ve had several intruder calls there since it’s been closed to the public. It’s a big old house, so the K-9 units take the calls. The dogs wouldn’t go upstairs. Neither of them. They whimpered. It happened every time. Old Lady Giardia said it was because of the ghosts.” Eric paused. “I met up with one of the K-9 units there once. That dog was scared to death. I went upstairs—nobody was up there, but I didn’t like it much. So I don’t know. Ghosts sound like a good reason. Nothing bothers those dogs ordinarily. I didn’t notice anything spooky, but it didn’t have that nice cozy atmosphere, you know?”
Kevin walked Eric to the front door and unlocked it. Five people, looking annoyed, poured in as Eric stepped out.
“My appointment was supposed to start ten minutes ago,” complained prissy nerd Daniel Hatch.
“I’m sorry. Doctor had an emergency. You sit down, he’ll see you very soon.” He looked around at the other patients. “Would you all like me to turn on the television?”
They started arguing about what to watch.
“People, you know the rules. You have to watch what I put on. That’s why the TV’s way up there by the ceiling and I have the remote.”
Dirty glares from a couple of them, the others looked bored.
“Okay.” He trotted back to his office, glanced at the listings, and got the remote then tuned in one of the old movie channels. It was showing Gone With the Wind. That was safe. You had to be careful about what you put on in this waiting room, especially if there were several people present. He’d tried E! repeatedly, thinking everybody liked gossip, but the noise drove some people out of their trees. Which was pretty easy to do around here. He’d tried the Game Show Network, but that one drove him out of his tree. The home improvement networks were his next choice, but half the time there were artsy-craftsy shows on and men hated those. Soaps didn’t work either—sometimes they made people weird. Old movies were the best.
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