by P. Wish
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Epilogue
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
OTHER BOOKS
The Ghost of Robert Brown
P. WISH
THE GHOST OF ROBERT BROWN
Copyright © 2017 by P. Wish.
All rights reserved. Printed in the United States of America. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations em- bodied in critical articles or reviews.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organiza- tions, places, events and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
For information contact :
[email protected]
http://www.pwish.net
Cover design by P. Wish
ISBN-13: 9781520369990
First Edition : 26th January 2017
Chapter 1
What does it feel like to long for what you can never have?
What does it feel like to have a body but not a soul?
What does it feel like to suffocate in your own body?
It feels like Robert Brown.
April 8, 2002
The unfamiliar sight of a corpse marked the doomed start to Jane’s career as a biology teacher at St. Anne’s Boarding School. The spring breeze brushed her face, rendering her skin numb. The buzz surrounding the body faded into oblivion. Her eyes burned holes in the corpse. Another gale of wind brought her to her senses. She jerked away from the image and read the time on her watch: 9:15 a.m. She took a step back.
The stench of the dead body made the bagel she had eaten earlier that morning rise to her throat. She swallowed the acidic remnants and they burned in her throat.
She hadn’t seen a dead body in some time. One year, to be exact. It has been a year, yet, it felt like she’d been a detective just yesterday. Even as her mind told her to call the police, her eyes began surveying the surrounding area. She looked down at an exposed male body lay that before her. A rotting blue body. The skin was peeling off his body, which was bloated, most likely due to drowning, and his eyes were bulging out. The nails were peeling away from the man’s fingertips, and his face was indecipherable. So was his body size, which had increased during time spent in the water.
Before she realized it, Jane’s eyes were on the area surrounding the lake She looked around—no tapes, no cones, only twigs, leaves and branches. That meant the police hadn’t been here yet. Did anybody knew of this death?
Standing a few yards away from the body, Jane examined the scene. There were remnants of a fence around the lake. It said Keep Out. The high concentration of weeds, the overgrown grass, the pale trees and the muddy path indicated that the area wasn’t used frequently and hadn’t been mowed in a long time. Moving closer to the fence, Jane observed that the bottom of one of its wooden panels had been broken off, leaving a sharp edge of broken wood behind. A possible point of entry, or exit. She glanced at the lake itself. A wooden pier led to the center of the lake.
She moved closer to the body that emitted a rotten stench. She could see some discoloration in his wrists and neck—possible signs of struggle—but the water made it difficult to say when and how they’d been caused.
Jane’s gaze drifted from his body to his peeling fingers. Next to his body lay a shiny object. A knife. Jane leaned in closer, observing the size and appearance of it. Though rusted, the object resembled a medium-sized kitchen knife. Interesting. Jane moved to his body, looking for any stab wounds or other injuries. There weren’t any on the surface, other than some signs of pressure on his neck. The lines on his neck were a deep red. Strangulation was likely. She leaned in closer and looked at it. It was difficult to see the breadth of the lines on his bloated neck.
Jane looked at his clothing next. The clothing, though soaked, was a dark brown. The man wore a pair of brown tweed pants and a tweed coat with beige patches on the elbows. Under the coat was a white shirt. Something bulged in one of the pockets. Jane reached into her purse and pulled out a pair of gloves. She had no idea why she had them—an occupational hazard. Her job as a biolody teacher required her to be prepared. Putting the latex gloves on, she reached into the man’s coat pocket and pulled out a phone. It was a standard Nokia phone with a number pad.
Stepping back, Jane examined the scene, looking for areas where clues might be found. The first question was, who the hell was this man?
Jane carefully dug into his pants pocket, feeling for his wallet. It was on the right side. She pulled it out. The brown leather wallet had been soaked. When she opened it, she found a few drenched bills. His driving license, which was in a clear sleeve in the front, was thankfully made of plastic.
“Herbert Greene,” it read. It was a St. Anne’s teacher’s ID card. His photo was unclear due to the water damage. Gender: Male, Occupation: Maths Teacher, Date of Birth: 09/16/1952, it read.
Jane dug into his wallet and found a brass key. She pulled it out. It looked something like her apartment key.
Her eyes moved to the edge of the lake. Some grass had been stripped off, exposing a patch of brown soil. Something had slid off the grass into the lake. Jane knelt on the damp soil, searching for any signs of footprints. There weren’t any. One week of heavy rains would have washed all traces of evidence.
“Police. Back off,” a deep voice said, startling her.
A dark shadow fell over her, blocking the source of light. She hurriedly put the brass key back into the wallet and dropped it. Jane turned. The shadow found its way to a pair of black shoes splotched with a few muddy stains. Thick legs were covered with a pair of faded jeans. Her eyes moved to the stranger’s torso. He wore a waterproof jacket that covered his stomach. A hoarse cough jerked her senses.
Gary Myers—her ex-colleague and ex-flame. She hadn’t heard from him for five years after an abrupt goodbye. Of all the people she could meet, the first person she met in Tenterden was Gary Myers.
Jane stood up without breaking the eye contact. He continued to look at her.
“Jane.” His voice made her skin break into goose bumps.
Tenterden had diminished the spark in his eyes and added a few inches to his waist, but he was as attractive as ever. The brown hair she remembered had turned a musty grey, but the way he looked at her hadn’t changed. She saw his blazing grey eyes, questioning, probing, examining and analyzing her, all at the same time. For a moment, time stopped and the breeze sounded like the final symphony of an orchestra.
She felt the weight of her bag pulling on her shoulder. It had been five years since she’d seen Gary Myers. From what she remembered, their last meeting had not been a pleasant one. If letters could count as a meeting, that is.
His eyelashes dropped over his eyes like a curtain, and when they opened again, his gaze was averted. She turned away. He took a step towards her. His grey eyes narrowed in on her. Jane backed off, taking a step away from Gary, feeling the air for something to hold. There was nothing.
She turned.
“Jane?” he said, his voice a monotone.
“Gary…” Jane hurriedly pulled her gloves off.
“What are you doing here?”
Jane coughed but didn’t reply. He took a step towards her. She was aware of it. She turned abruptly. Her blue eyes met
his gaze.
“Detective Myers.” A sharp voice broke the impenetrable silence. Jane looked to a man who was approaching Gary. Going by the elasticity of his skin, the white hair on his head and his slight limp, Jane guessed he was over sixty-five. He wore a long-sleeved shirt, but Jane noticed traces of black ink peeking out from his collar. Tattoos. Permanent tattoos. Full-body permanent tattoos. People with those were either ex-rockers or ex-convicts. She hoped it was the former.
He ground his teeth while panting. When he opened his mouth, Jane could see the broken teeth and dried gums in his mouth. He ground his teeth again. Must’ve been a meth user in the past. And, a member of a rock band.
There was a healed vertical scar on his cheek. As he came closer, Jane smelled a mixture of hash browns, mud and grass on his body.
The stranger wore a waterproof jacket over a pair of jeans that carried muddy stains. He followed Detective Myers’s gaze and met hers. She saw his blue eyes. He was an old man with silver hair. His bulging belly body was concealed by a brown fleece jacket. His clear blue eyes squinted as he looked at Jane. Jane turned her face away. Detective Myers took a step towards the man and surveyed him.
“Mr. McEwan?” they said together. Gary turned to her and then turned back to the man. She was right.
“Yes.” The stranger’s voice was firm.
“I’m Inspector Myers from the local police. Call me Detective Myers. We got a call from you this morning. Is this the person you were talking about?”
“Yes, he is. I was supposed to mow this grass today, but when I got here, I smelled something rotten. That’s when I saw his body floating in the lake. It was the most horrifying sight.”
“Did you pull the body out of the lake?” he asked, his raspy voice sounding like sandpaper.
“Yes.”
“What time was this?”
“Seven thirty, I think.”
“And you called immediately?”
“Yes—I didn’t know what to do.” Mr. McEwan turned to Jane. “Who is this?”
“Oh,” Jane said. “This is the worst time for introductions but I’m Jane, the new biology teacher.”
A glimmer of recognition crossed Mr. McEwan’s eyes. “You’re the new teacher? What’re you doing here?”
“I got lost. Can you tell me how to get to the main building?”
“Walk straight from here. Follow the fence until you reach the dorm. Then, you go right for, ummm…five minutes. You should see the main building to your left—”
“Thank you,” she said before he could complete his sentence and hurriedly walked away. Her shoes stomped on the damp, slushy ground that surrounded the lake. She felt Gary’s gaze on her back as she left.
At 9:30 a.m., Jane was in the vicinity of the main building. She heard high-pitched voices, buzzing in the distance. Her eyes meet the cool marble surface of the sprawling main building. Gothic spires shot out from its corners, and in the distance, she saw its towers merge with the sky.
She walked by the long stretch of green grass that led to the main building. A striking contrast to the lake, the building was well maintained. Neatly manicured grass, well-lit paths and polished surfaces surrounded her. The cobblestone path ended at the foot of a large white fountain filled with clear blue water. She gazed at her reflection in the water. Her brown eyes were steady. Her navy-blue turtleneck covered her thick neck, and her dark hair was pulled back into a ponytail.
She moved away from the fountain and walked to the door. Her eyes fell on the wooden door that welcomed her to the main building. She slipped past the rows of flowers and opened the door.
Arches extended several feet over her head. Her body slid into the doorway, her shadow falling on the dark green carpet. The door closed, killing her shadow. Jane took three steps. The wood creaked below her feet. She continued down the corridor with an erect spine, passing by a huge door that opened into a furnished library. Students were studying at nine thirty in the morning. A few curious eyes looked at her. Her footsteps hastened.
A short girl in a beige shirt and brown cardigan passed her. The girl surveyed her with sharp blue eyes before turning away. Jane clutched her books and papers closer to her chest. She pulled her navy-blue sweater and cleared her throat. She stopped. At the end of the corridor was a door that read Principal. Jane knocked.
“Come in,” a soft voice said. Jane turned the doorknob and opened the door, stepping into the room. Her eyes fell on the silver-haired woman who sat behind a rosewood desk. Her nose was long, but the wrinkles gave away her age. “Mrs. Wolverhampton” was written on the glass name plate that lay at the edge of the polished desk. Papers and files were arranged on both sides of the desk. The carpet changed color to a pastel green. Jane’s leather ballet flats traced their way to the rosewood desk. Mrs. Wolverhampton wore a pair of reading glasses and had her hair pulled back in a bun. Jane noticed that her bespectacled blue eyes were lined with dark circles. Disturbed sleep. Her eyes twitched and she cracked her knuckles, her eyes moving from side to side, indicating a generally nervous temperament.
“Good morning,” Jane said. “I’m Jane Grey. I’m the new biology teacher—”
“Oh, of course…the new biology teacher,” Mrs. Wolverhampton said to herself. “Have a seat, Jane.”
Mrs. Wolverhampton placed her fountain pen on the desk. She shifted her body and focused on Jane, wrinkling her nose. Jane detected the smell of the rotting corpse on her clothes and closed her eyes.
“I’m sorry I’m late—” Mrs. Wolverhampton glanced at the wall clock. “I got lost.”
“It’s easy to get lost around here, especially when you’re new,” Mrs. Wolverhampton said, trying to flash a smile.
“I don’t know how I ended up at the lake.”
Mrs. Wolverhampton’s eyes stilled as she observed Jane for a moment. Jane noticed her strange reaction. She knew about the drowning.
“Who—” Jane started.
“Mr. Greene,” Mrs. Wolverhampton said with downcast eyes. “He used to teach maths here. He was an outstanding member of the faculty.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. When…?” Jane trailed off deliberately.
“This morning.” Mrs. Wolverhampton’s eyes were downcast.
Jane’s eyes moved to the ebony and ivory keys of the piano that lay at one end of the room. It had gathered some dust. “You don’t play the piano.”
“Not really, no,” Mrs. Wolverhampton said. “Let’s talk about you. This might not be the best question to ask, but how do you like it here?”
“The school is beautiful,” Jane said. “I haven’t had a chance to explore Tenterden, but I’m sure I will. I’m looking forward to working here.”
The phone rang.
“Go ahead,” Jane said. Mrs. Wolverhampton lifted the receiver to her ear.
“Hello? Mrs. Graham? Yes, I understand. The matter is under investigation. Nothing has been confirmed yet.” The woman on the other side of the line uttered a few muffled words. “I assure you the students are safe. It was a case of drowning. The inspector is here. We’ll let you know as soon as we hear from him.”
Muffled whispers followed.
“I understand your concern, but we’re trying our best not to disrupt the class schedule.”
The conversation went on for another five minutes. Jane observed the antique wall clock, the fading green carpet, the high wooden ceiling, the piano, the tall bookshelf on the left end of the room and another large bookshelf that filled one wall. There were quite a few antiques in there—all of them untouched. Mrs. Wolverhampton didn’t seem to spend much time in the room, nor did the school spend much time dusting the antiques in the principal’s office.
When Mrs. Wolverhampton was done, she slammed the receiver down.
“I’m sorry. That was one of the parents,” she said. Her bony fingers moved to massage her collarbones under her grey dress. “They’re worried. Mr. Greene’s death has them concerned.”
“A reasonable fear. It could’ve
been a homicide,” Jane muttered.
“Excuse me?”
“Oh…nothing. These things can appear very scary to parents.”
“I know.”
“May I ask what happened?”
“We don’t know for sure yet,” Mrs. Wolverhampton said. “Mr. McEwan found Mr. Greene’s body floating on the surface of the lake when he went to sweep the leaves today morning. He immediately called the police.”
Jane coughed.
“Are you all right?”
“Must be the change of weather,” Jane said.
“There is so much I need to get through,” Mrs. Wolverhampton said, shuffling the papers on her desk. She stopped midway and added, “Mr. Greene was an outstanding teacher.”
“How long had he been teaching at St. Anne’s?” Jane said, maintaining a solemn expression.
“Four years. He will be missed,” Mrs. Wolverhampton said, her tone dropping. “I’m sorry. Let’s talk about you.” She pulled a thin plastic file from the pile of files on the right side of the desk and leafed through it. “I didn’t have time to go through your resume before you arrived. It’s been a chaotic morning.”
“I understand.”
“You have been teaching full-time?”
“I’m returning to teaching after a while. I took some time off to…raise my family,” Jane lied.
“Will they be joining you?” Mrs. Wolverhampton asked, looking around.
“No,” Jane replied with a fall in her tone.
Mrs. Wolverhampton didn’t press her. She closed the file and laid it on the table.
“I hope you find your experience at St. Anne’s rewarding. We’ll begin with a one-year contract with a possibility of extension.”
“I hope to learn a lot at St. Anne’s. The environment is very…stimulating. Is Mr. Harold still around?”
Mr. Harold was the teacher Jane had been hired to replace.
“No, he left last week. I’m afraid you’ll have to figure it out by yourself. We hired a teacher at very short notice.”
She pulled out a few sheets from the plastic folder and placed them before Jane.
“You’ll be teaching Cellular Structures and DNA this semester. Here are the lesson plans and the timetable.”
