Pennies for the Ferryman - 01

by Jim Bernheimer

  Too bad I hadn’t yet found any more homicidal ghosts. Of course, that could make a whole different problem, so maybe that was a good thing. I’d been too scared at what I might find if I went to Arlington National Cemetery. My intuition told me that I really should avoid that place at all costs.

  “But what if he finds out and when he dies, it’ll start all over again?”

  “Well, you’re latched on to your wedding ring that he wears on a chain around his necklace, right? We stop him and I’ll destroy the ring and you move on to whatever is after all this. Does that sound like a plan?”

  She looked terrified, “I have to go!” Breaking contact she fled. Things weren’t looking all that good.

  Things looked even worse the next day when Jenny wasn’t in class. Paul, the guy who sat on the other side of her desk, was using one of those Digital Voice recorders to take notes for her. He said she called him out of the blue and told him she couldn’t make it. He said he was surprised that Jenny hadn’t called me to do it.

  I wasn’t.

  I could have though. I’d just picked up a decent unit, thinking that it would be handy in class, but even though it was like some cliché from every single cop show, some part of me hoped I could trick some kind of confession from Snowden. Trying the thing out and waiting for my next class to start was interrupted by when Elsbeth ran through the door and a pair of students who immediately shivered.

  “He’s going to do it tomorrow! He did a ‘practice’ run today and scheduled her next cardiologist appointment.”

  “That’s sudden, what changed his mind?” I whispered into my new voice recorder so I could at least look like I was sane.

  “His ‘new’ girlfriend told him that she didn’t like the fact that he spends so much time with his dead wife’s grandmother. She thinks it’s creepy. He told her that she’s pretty ill and having heart problems.”

  I shooed her way as class started, angry at myself for touching her with my writing hand, but then again, I had a shiny new voice recorder…

  On the way to the bus stop, I spotted Jenny’s car leaving the parking lot. Yeah, I was angry the whole ride home.

  I was surprised to find myself staring through the door chain at Megan Rosemont. “May I come in?”

  “No, I’m afraid not, young man. Charles told me that he looked into your past and you are nothing but a con artist posing as a nice young man.” I hadn’t expected such a subtle move out of the big ox, but then again, I was still ‘new’ at all of this.

  I said the first thing that came to my mind, “Elsbeth says that he’s trying to poison you.”

  “Why on Earth would he do that? You leave right now or I am calling the police.”

  It was tempting to tell her to speak directly to Detective Wycheck. “Wait, hear me out. Elsbeth’s told me things that only you and she would know. How about her rag doll named Mrs. Biscuits? Her favorite book was Charlotte’s Web! She used to make you read a chapter to her every night. She did move the furniture around, but she stopped after she contacted me. “

  “You’re just making that up!” I’ll never understand people; she called me hoping that I could connect her with Elsbeth. Give her some validation and what did she call me – a liar!

  “Fine, you want some proof that Charlie is up to something call Doctor Morgan’s office. He’s made cardiologist appointments for you in the past and called them back to cancel. He made one for you yesterday. Call them and see if he made an appointment for you for next week. No matter what, don’t drink the large ice tea he brings you today! Don’t dump it out because the police will need to test it.”

  “Charles is a good hard working man. You shouldn’t be saying things like that about him!”

  “He used to beat Elsbeth! You know it too! You even made her think it was her fault that he was doing it, telling her that if she was a better wife he wouldn’t have to do what he did. Tell me, how I would know that?”

  She looked like I had punched her and slowly opened the door. I sat on the couch while she called the cardiologist and found out that she had a long string of cancelled appointments.

  I showed her the voice recorder and set it under her newspaper and told her I would wait in the next room to make sure Charlie just dropped off the food and left. Then we could call the police and have them pick up the tainted beverage and later Charlie. It would be nice and easy.

  I should have known better – nothing is ever that simple.

  My “oh so clever” plan lasted until Elsbeth came sprinting through the wall.

  “The neighbor told him you’re here!”

  “Shit!” It wasn’t exactly my most eloquent summation, but seemed to be the most appropriate. Okay, it looked like this was going to go down the ‘hard’ way. “Does he have the poisoned drink?” When Elsbeth nodded, I snatch the phone off the hook and dial 911. Now I just needed to stall until Rockville’s finest arrived.

  The front door banged open and I heard a shout, “Where is he? I know you’re here, Ross!”

  I walked out of the bedroom, “I’m right here. How are you today?”

  “I thought I told you…” He said setting down the bags of food on the countertop.

  “I came by because I was worried about Mrs. Rosemont.”

  “Get out!” He takes a few threatening steps towards me.

  “I’ll leave in a few minutes. Mrs. Rosemont and I were just having a pleasant conversation. If she wants me to leave, I’ll be happy to go – no need to be all unfriendly like.” Mentally, I was counting off the seconds in my head, wondering how long it would take for the call to be processed and a unit to be dispatched. This was a pretty nice part of town, so maybe ten minutes?

  “Get out while you can still walk out! I don’t know what lies you’ve been filling her head with …” His eyes drifted down to the phone book opened to cardiologists.

  Saying ‘shit’ a second time would be repetitive. He bull rushed me and I threw the nearest vase at him as hard as I could. Then I grabbed the second vase, which I smashed into his head while he drove me into the wall, leaving a Mike Ross shaped dent in the drywall. Well, at least when the cops got here, they’d really find a domestic disturbance.

  I didn’t have time for clever commentary as we traded blows at close range. There wasn’t much snap in my punch right at his throat, but it was enough to make him stumble backwards. People like to breathe every so often. Trying to press my advantage I faked a grab at him and kicked at the side of his knee.

  Whether it hurt him, I’ll never know because all I saw was stars when that bastard hit me – hard. I held it together and avoided blacking out, but that’s about all I was capable of at the moment.

  I blocked one or two punches, but he got a grip on me and I was in real trouble. Instinctively, I broke his hold on me, but he countered with a better hold, which unfortunately happened to be around my neck.

  He scrunched his neck down to keep me from doing the same to him, so I tried boxing his ears, which didn’t work as well as I needed it to. I still wasn’t getting any air.

  Already starting to flail weakly, I did the only thing I could think of, I smacked his forehead with the palm of my hand and rammed my thumb into his eye – cheap, dirty, but effective. He dropped me and then he kicked me, but at least I had enough air to scream in pain!

  Spitting the blood out of my mouth, I tried to get to my feet, waiting for the next blow. It never came. I saw him collapsed by the mantle. A brass candlestick dangled from Elsbeth Snowden’s hands.

  I wheezed out my thanks to her and look over at Megan, who was staring open mouthed at the floating candlestick, pointing with her finger. I stumbled over and cut off the voice recorder.

  “Is that?”

  “Yes, it’s Elsbeth. She finally stood up to him. You can put the candlestick down now, Elsbeth.”

  Thirty minutes later a paramedic was checking me. She told me that my throat would be sore and to rest it while checking to see if any of the cuts or abrasions on my h
ead required stitches. Satisfied she let me up and I walked back towards the house to make sure Megan was okay.

  “Ross?”

  “Oh joy, Detective Wycheck! My day just got a bit better. Make sure you check her ice tea for bluing solution.”

  “We already found the dropper bottle in his truck and the lady is backing your story. We’ll take your statement and photograph your injuries. Your voice recorder stays with us until we make an official copy for evidence. Right now, we’re charging him with assault on you, but if you’re right about the drink, it’ll go to conspiracy to commit murder real quick.”

  “So we’re friends now?”

  He leaned in closer and brushed some of the remaining plaster off my shoulder with a sneer on his face. “Don’t count on it, Ross. I don’t like you. I don’t think I’ll ever like you and I’ll be happy if I never have to see you outside of this case again.”

  I felt a bit cocky as I brushed past him, “Aw, where’s the love, Officer? Can’t we all just get along?”

  Back inside, Megan sat on her couch drinking what I hoped was a non-poisoned tea. “How are you holding up?”

  She looked at me through those monstrous glasses, “Surprisingly well. Is she still here?”

  I nodded and walked over to where Elsbeth was pointing. The candlestick blow that felled Charlie was being credited to the 83 year old Grandmother. Evidently that same blow broke the chain around Charlie’s neck. On the ground was a small diamond solitaire. “Here, this is Elsbeth’s anchor - the object she is connected to; if we take it to her grave site we can release her.”

  A familiar jolt of pain coursed through my back. “Damn, that stings!”

  “I want to stay and watch over her. I can pass on later.”

  “Some warning would be nice,” I muttered back at Elsbeth. “Fine, if that’s what you want – stay. Here, if you keep this around, Elsbeth will stay and keep you company.”

  Megan sniffled for a moment before clearing her throat. “Thank you very much, Mr. Ross. Now would you be a dear and run down to the market and pick up some groceries for me? I have a list.”

  The store was only about a half mile walk; I sighed and took the list and a pair of twenties from her.

  And that’s how I ‘got’ Grandma Meg as a fixture in my life – most guys my age were accumulating children and debt, me, I was picking up grannies and ghosts. Go figure.

  Episode 4: Battling with Bitches

  I never thought I’d be walking a blind preacher around my house and yard on a chilly November Saturday while he does a “proper” blessing of the house, but I’ve learned to be flexible. Eight weeks ago, religion didn’t have a place in my life. Then again, back in September, I didn’t have my own personal window into the afterlife. Trailing after Brother Silas felt as odd and out of place as the small brand-new silver cross around my neck, but as I just said, I was becoming more open minded.

  Regardless of my estrangement from organized religion, I knew I needed back-up. The ghost of Darren Porter kindly pointed this fact out right before a bona fide Civil War hero ran him through with a cavalry saber. Even in the afterlife, that had to hurt!

  Unfortunately, Darren didn’t really have the time to clarify exactly what “protections” were available and where one goes to acquire such things. Since Wal-Mart didn’t have a supernatural section, I figured that the “traditional” method was a good place to start, considering some of the bizarre suggestions on the Internet. Although wrapping the house in a layer of tin foil might give it a certain festive look - I decided on something a little less geeky.

  Brother Silas Parker seemed to be enjoying the cold more than I was. I hadn’t felt a true winter in several years between the desert in Iraq and the sweltering temperatures of Army bases in Texas and Georgia. Frankly, I hadn’t missed it. My companion’s body, though not quite sixty, showed the ravages of illness and time. Even so, Brother Silas possessed a wry humor and pleasant demeanor that said a great deal about the man’s character.

  “So, do you reckon this is going to work?”

  The blind man didn’t move his head in my direction. “I think it will, if you have faith, Mike. Do you believe?”

  There’s the rub. I was still a bit of a cynic. It’s hard to believe in a higher power when you’ve had a pretty crappy life, but I couldn’t really whine too much about unfairness to a man who’d lost both eyes to the Viet Cong now, could I?

  “Fortunately, I’ve prepared a test.” I waved over to the ghost pacing around on the street. Elsbeth Snowden was a slender woman, just a few years older than me, pretty enough to date, barring the slight problem of her being dead, married, and the trivial fact that I’d just helped put her husband in jail for assault and attempted murder, pending his day in court. Beyond that, we’d make a perfect couple.

  Our not-quite-friendship was interesting: she watched over her aging grandmother and I was her errand boy. Still, she’d helped me pick up some pocket money and Grandma Meg was enjoyable enough.

  Elsbeth tried to approach, but was stopped right at the sidewalk. She made several more attempts, but was frustrated each time. Silas could sort of “see” her as well. The easiest person to convince that you could see ghosts was someone else who saw them too.

  “And it looks like you do believe enough.”

  Making certain she was too far away to eavesdrop; I leaned in to Silas and whispered, “Well Elsbeth isn’t exactly much of a ghost, but she is the best I have available on short notice. So, it looks like it’ll keep out the lamb, but I wonder what’ll happen when a lion comes knocking?”

  I wasn’t planning on reenacting Custer’s last stand if Colonel Strong Vincent brought the ghosts of Gettysburg down for a visit, but something always beat nothing, which was all I had before.

  “I reckon you ought to keep that pig-sticker close to your bed if you’re worried ‘bout that, Mike.”

  We’d discovered that Silas could see the ghostly sword that I took from Mr. Vincent. “So what exactly is Pastor Duncan saying to my mom?”

  “Oh he’s just telling her about how I have plenty of experience counseling people with war injuries and how I’ll be working with you in the times to come, giving you spiritual guidance. The nice part is every bit of it’s true.”

  “So, he’s not in there telling her that I really can see ghosts?”

  “She’s your mother, Mike. If she’s going to believe anyone, it’ll be you and only when she’s ready to accept. It’s like the Gospel. You can sit in church and listen. You can read the words from the book, but it won’t truly mean something unless you’re willing to believe it and do something about it. Now you might want to do something about your ghost friend there. She’s looking a bit angry.”

  I shrugged my shoulders and walked over to Elsbeth. I’d hoped the preachers were going to enlighten my mom, but instead it looked like that was my battle to fight. Reaching out, I touched Elsbeth.

  “It’s about time you came over here! What if my grandmother needs something? How am I supposed to get through this?”

  “Good question. I’m not really sure how it works. Maybe it’s like Vampires and I have to invite you in?”

  She looked indignant. “That’s stupid. Vampires don’t exist!”

  “I find that rather ironic coming from a ghost,” I said. At least there was some humor to be found in my life. “Let’s not be so close-minded, shall we? Elsbeth Melissa Snowden, I invite you onto the grounds.”

  She tried the barrier and it didn’t work. I stepped back inside the barrier and tried it again – with the same result. Impulsively, I just reached out, grabbed her wrist and pulled her across. The contact was more painful than usual, but it worked.

  “That hurt!” the dead woman cried out, “it was like being shocked.”

  “Well that’s what I get to feel during all our conversations, so quit your complaining. See if you can walk out and walk back in.”

  Though I let go of her hand, I could tell she was muttering some rather u
nladylike words as she crossed back and forth across the barrier. It was still painful to her and if it hadn’t been for the slight shimmer as she stepped onto the property, I would have been worried that we destroyed the barrier. I added that to my list of “things I now know about ghosts.” If you make protections, you have to escort any “Caspers” across the barrier. “Caspers?” you ask? Why, friendly ghosts, of course.

  “Looks like we have ourselves a winner,” I declared. “Thanks for your help Elsbeth; I’ll be by to do your grandma’s grocery shopping tomorrow.”

  The ghost nodded and faded away. She wasn’t anchored to her grave, but rather to her wedding band which was now hanging from a delicate chain around her grandmother’s neck. At least it made her return trip much quicker.

  “Thank you for coming out Brother Silas.”

  “Oh, don’t thank me yet, you see, Reggie and I have a favor to ask of you.”

  As usual, alarm bells rang in my head. Cautiously, I asked, “And just what do you and Pastor Duncan want?”

  The old man picked up on my guarded tone, “It’s not much, but from time to time, other pastors call us -- when they’ve run into a bit of trouble, you see. Over the years, I’ve acquired a certain reputation for helping out people with unexplainable problems.”

  Not being an idiot, I could see where this was headed. “So, exorcism really works?”

  Brother Silas laughed. “Young man, it’s called Ebenezer Church of Dee-liverance for a reason, don’t you know. Most times when I’ve gone to someone’s house, it’s been nothing. On those few times that I’ve encountered something, blessing the house works most of the time.”

  “And what did you do when it didn’t?”

  “Well, unlike you I can’t touch a spirit and I can’t talk to them. So, if I can’t get rid of them through prayer and blessing, I flat out told the living that they should move. You on the other hand have a gift from the Creator that is much more effective. You can actually speak to these spirits and, if necessary, forcefully evict them.”