Janet McNulty - Mellow Summers 04 - Three Little Ghosts

by Janet McNulty

  Jackie unbuckled her seat belt and opened the passenger door. “You know, ever since we moved here and you met Rachel, we have been teetering on the line of legal and illegal.” We hopped out of the car. “Speaking of ghosts, where are those three?”

  I shrugged my shoulders. “No idea. They followed Detective Shorts home after overhearing him say that ghosts didn’t exist.”

  Jackie laughed. I grinned as well.

  We scurried up the driveway of the rental home and to the side window that was hidden by some bushes. Hopefully, no one spotted us. I tried the window. Nothing.

  Relying on my newly acquired skills as a lock picker, I headed for the back door and pulled out a pin.

  “Wait,” said Jackie catching my wrist. “What if there is an alarm system?”

  I didn’t think about that. “How can you tell if there is one?”

  “Did you see a sign posted in the front yard?”

  “No, but that doesn’t mean much.” I unlocked the door and opened it considering there was only one way to find out. I opened it a crack and waited. No sirens. “Come on.”

  Jackie and I went in, shut the door and listened. We appeared to be the only ones there. I glanced around. We had entered the kitchen. Nothing out of place. The dishes in the sink were neatly stacked, the counters looked clean; no mess anywhere.

  We wandered to the living area. Other than a stack of magazines on the coffee table, I found no evidence of clutter. The neat and tidy home offered nothing to lead me onto the location of the money. I thought the home was too neat. Either Allison had been a superb housekeeper, or she kept the place squeaky clean to avoid entanglements with the landlord.

  I steered Jackie to the bedroom. We poked through her dresser drawers, which was a bit weird but you never know what you’ll find. I pulled open a middle drawer. Under the night clothes rested a stack of bills. I showed Jackie.

  “Some of the money,” she said.

  “Yeah, but where’s the rest of it. There is only enough here to cover a few weeks’ expenses.”

  “Smart girl,” said Jackie, “She didn’t keep it all in the house, only enough to live.”

  We checked the closet. Tidy. Shoes perfectly organized; clothes hung up and pressed. The boxes on the shelf in the closet proved useless. There was nothing in there except a few IDs and a photo with her and her grandfather. I found a Catholic prayer card in one with worn and fading edges. It read:

  Remember, He will never abandon you.

  Granddad.

  Interesting, could she had always been Catholic. But doesn’t stealing and lying go against the Bible? I kicked myself for thinking that. Sometimes people do desperate things to help one they care about whether right or wrong. And besides, I was snooping around a dead woman’s house after breaking in. No brownie points for solving a mystery.

  She loved her granddad and did what she thought she had to to take care of him. She didn’t deserve to be murdered.

  “Anything?” asked Jackie from the other side of the room.

  “No,” I said. “No sign of the money, or where she could have hidden it.”

  I noticed some packed luggage by the door.

  “Looks like she was prepared to leave in a hurry if necessary,” I said pointing them out to Jackie.

  “I don’t blame her,” said Jackie.

  We meandered back to the living room. Jackie bumped into a tall table causing it to thump the wall a bit. I took a closer look at it.

  Mail. All unopened, except one. Excitedly, I ripped out the letter.

  I know who you are. I know you have the money. Meet me at the library by nine o’clock.

  I pulled out the note that someone had shoved into my pocket earlier. Same handwriting. This didn’t bode well. I crumpled them both placing them in my pocket. The same person who sent her this letter, gave me my note.

  A slamming car door caught our attention.

  “Uh, Mel,” said Jackie, “I hope you have a backup plan.”

  Two cops stepped out of their car and walked up the driveway to the front door. One mumbled something into his radio. He motioned for his partner to go around back while he stayed in the front.

  Why? Why does this always happen? How many times can I get in trouble with the police before they lock me up for good?

  “Mel?”

  I hushed Jackie. “Get away from the windows.” We darted to the small hallway, the only thing not visible from the windows. One of the officers peeked in. Seconds later a knock sounded on the door. “We know you are in there,” he shouted. “Come out with your hands up.”

  I cursed. Someone did see us break in and called the cops.

  “What do we do?” asked Jackie in a near panic.

  “I’m working on it,” I said.

  My cell rang.

  “Mel,” said Greg on the other end, “Uh, Jack says that the cops got a call just now about two females breaking into Allison’s home. You wouldn’t know anything about that would you?”

  “Why?” I replied.

  “You’re there aren’t you?”

  I didn’t answer.

  “Mel,” whispered Jackie getting more fidgety.

  “I told you not to get into trouble. Didn’t I tell you to stay out of trouble?” scolded Greg.

  “Now, isn’t the time,” I said.

  “Mel—”

  I hung up. “The bathroom. Quick.”

  The bathroom window was just big enough for us to squeeze through and get out on a more secluded area of the house. Of course, I had no idea what we would do after that.

  Jackie and I scrambled for it. I opened the window and ushered Jackie through. She slipped through easily. I stuck my left foot out and heaved myself through the window with Jackie dancing nervously next to me fighting the urge to run. I had just hauled my upper half out and only needed to bring out my right leg when—

  “Freeze!”

  Well, my plan didn’t work.

  “Put your hands up,” said the officer.

  Was he serious? If I put up my hands, I would fall.

  “Uh, can you at least—” I began.

  “I said put your hands up,” yelled the officer as his buddy ran up, gun drawn.

  Jackie shot hers up instantly; her ashen face full of fear and worry.

  I put my hands up. Just as I did, gravity took hold causing me to lose my balance and slam into the grass. That left a bruise.

  “On your knees and hands up,” said the officer.

  Jackie and I slowly got to our knees keeping our hands raised high in the air. What was this? The fourth time I was about to be arrested? My mother would be so proud. Good thing Aunt Ethel wasn’t here.

  The cops snapped handcuffs around our wrists and led us to their car. Just then, a vehicle I recognized pulled up. Detective Shorts stepped out.

  “What seems to be the trouble?” he asked the two officers.

  “Hello detective,” said one, “We received a call about a break in and caught these two girls trying to make a run for it. What are you doing here?”

  “I was already on my way here,” said the detective. “Let them go.”

  “But, sir—”

  “Let them go,” repeated Detective Shorts, “They aren’t thieves. They called me saying that they noticed something unusual here. I had told them to wait outside, but this one—” he pointed at me, “—sometimes forgets that she isn’t a cop. I bet the real perpetrator got away while these two went stumbling in there trying to play hero. Let them go.”

  “But, sir—”

  Detective Shorts glared at the officer.

  “Yes, sir.” He unlocked the handcuffs, made a short apology, and walked off.

  “You know, I would be well within my rights to lock you both up and throw away the key,” he said turning toward me.

  “I guess now we owe you a favor,” I sheepishly said.

  “And you are about to pay up,” whispered Detective Shorts. “Come along. In.” He opened the door to the backseat. The l
ook on his face convinced us not to argue.

  Jackie and I scrambled into the back of the car. The door banged as the detective slammed it shut. Angry didn’t even begin to describe him.

  He hopped into the driver’s seat, started up the engine, and pulled away. Silence ensued.

  About ten minutes into the car ride Jackie couldn’t take it anymore. “I think he’s going to shoot us.”

  “What? Jackie, he wouldn’t do that.”

  “I’m telling you, Mel, he looks like he lost it. You see how bloodshot his eyes are?”

  He did look exhausted.

  “I think we pushed him a little too far this time,” Jackie persisted.

  “He’s a cop,” I said.

  “So was Detective Reiss,” countered Jackie, “And he probably knew how to cover it up.”

  “You two do realize that I can hear every word,” said Detective Shorts.

  We stopped talking. In another fifteen minutes we pulled into a small neighborhood; obviously a poorer section of town. The small houses looked neat if not a little run down. Detective Shorts pulled into the driveway of a yellow and green house with peeling paint.

  He let us out of his car and we followed him inside. Neither of us wanted to argue. The entrance led to a kitchen and living area with a staircase leading to a second floor. Despite appearing compact on the outside, the interior demonstrated a fair amount of space.

  “Up the stairs,” he pushed us onward.

  “Now wait a minute,” said Jackie, “Mel and I are not like that.”

  “Now.” The dangerous undertone in his voice shut us up.

  Jackie and I darted up the steps as small voices reached my ears. Suddenly, I realized why he brought us here.

  “Jackie,” I said, “I know where those girls are.”

  “Yeah, so do I,” muttered Jackie when she reached the top and witnessed the television turn itself on and off.

  “How did they make this so flat?” asked Sarah of her sisters as she fiddled with the turntable the TV rested on.

  “Who cares?” replied Alana, “The picture is amazing! Daddy’s television set never looked this good and it was so small.”

  “Quit moving it,” wailed Freya.

  “I want to watch cartoons,” said Sarah.

  “Well I want to watch the lions,” Freya shot back as the two fought over the remote.

  “Hey, look! It’s Elvis,” shouted Alana.

  They all stopped. With the passing back and forth of the remote they had switched channels to one that played Elvis’ music videos.

  They all plopped in front of the TV to watch Elvis do his signature hip shaking move.

  “Well this explains a lot,” said Jackie.

  “Girls,” I said, walking over to them.

  “Mellow!” They each jumped up and hugged my legs causing me to momentarily lose my balance. To the onlooker, it looked like I got attacked by thin air.

  “What are you doing here? Didn’t I warn you about imposing?”

  “You said we shouldn’t bother Tiny,” said Alana, “But you never said we couldn’t bother other people.”

  “Why are you here?” I asked again.

  “Because that man said he didn’t believe in ghosts,” said Sarah.

  “Yeah,” added Freya, “And if he doesn’t believe in ghosts, then he doesn’t believe in us.”

  “We just want to play,” whined Alana.’

  Poor things just wanted attention. For fifty years they haunted the library and people ignored them, or pretended they weren’t there. But I come along, talk to them and they follow everyone I know. I reminded myself that I needed to find their mother and hopefully discover a way to give them some peace.

  Detective Shorts watched everything with a perplexed look on his face.

  “You guys need to make yourselves visible,” I said.

  “You mean he can’t see us?” asked Sarah.

  “Yeah, ya dope,” said Alana.

  “Don’t call me a dope,” Sarah shouted.

  “Girls,” I said.

  They smiled up at me. Slowly, they materialized so that Jackie and Detective Shorts could see them. He jumped back a bit.

  “Hey, mister,” said Freya, “May we watch your television?”

  “Uh, sure,” mumbled Detective Shorts.

  Beaming, the sisters plopped on the floor in front of the TV nestling in.

  “Come on you two,” whispered Detective Shorts to Jackie and I.

  We followed him downstairs to the kitchen. Glass bottles clinked as he opened the fridge and pulled out three beers. He set them on the table clearing away a small space. Clutter filled his home.

  “Sorry about the mess,” he said. “With my hours I haven’t time to clean.”

  “You live alone,” said Jackie.

  “Well, I used to have a wife,” answered Detective Shorts, “But she grew tired of the job.”

  I opened my beer and took a swig. Jackie downed half her bottle; no doubt relieved that we weren’t being arrested or taken out and shot.

  “Go easy on that,” said Detective Shorts

  “How did you know where to find us?” I asked.

  “Heard about the break in on my radio. Knew it was you the moment the call came through,” Detective Shorts replied.

  “Good thing you came,” muttered Jackie.

  “So you weren’t lying about the ghost thing.”

  “No,” I said.

  “Well, that explains a few things. Now, tell me why you were at Allison Farlow’s house.”

  I squirmed a bit.

  “You might as well come clean.”

  “We went there to look for clues as to where she might have hidden the money.”

  “And you hope to find it and become a millionaire?”

  “No,” I said.

  “Mel,” Detective Shorts left his more formal greeting at the door, “Allison died because of that money. No doubt, the man who searches for it will kill any who gets in his way. Now I know you won’t listen to me, but I am going to ask you once more: please stay out of it.”

  “But she knows who did it,” said Jackie smacking her empty bottle on the table.

  “Really?”

  I shot her a look. “Well, yeah,” I said, “I overheard two men talking. One confessed to murdering Allison.”

  “And they are?”

  “One was the janitor from the church and the other stayed in the shadows, but I think his name is Scott.”

  “Your contact at the station is well-informed,” commented Detective Shorts. I wondered if he knew about Jack.

  “You should arrest them,” said Jackie.

  “On what evidence?”

  “But Mel just said—”

  “Hearsay,” said Detective Shorts, “No court will uphold it. And breaking into a dead woman’s house will do little to prove your honesty.”

  He had me there.

  “Mel,” began Detective Shorts, “I want you to do me a favor. Since you have a propensity for finding trouble, if you do stumble upon Allison’s stash of money, call me immediately. Do not touch it, or move it. Just call me.” He placed his hand on my shoulder and looked directly into my eyes. “I mean it.”

  “No problem,” I said.

  “Mellow,” Sarah floated into the kitchen rubbing her eyes. I didn’t know ghosts could get tired.

  “I’m sleepy.” She crawled into Detective Shorts’ lap. Unsure of what to do, he just let her rest her opaque head against his arm. “You’re comfy,” she mumbled.

  Jackie and I watched as Sarah settled in his lap doing our best not to giggle. It must have been a awhile since Sarah had a lap to sit in or felt the protective arms of a parent around her.

  A couple hours later Detective Shorts took us back to my parked car, reminding us to stay out of trouble. Like that was going to happen. I began to notice a pattern developing in my life. Ghost shows up; I get into trouble.

  Bikes surrounded my old car and Greg’s vehicle was near all of them. Th
is didn’t bode well.

  “I should have had you call a few people,” said Detective Shorts, frowning at all the bikes that took over the road.

  I hauled myself out of the car.

  “Mel!” Greg slammed into me giving a huge hug and squeezing all of the air out of my lungs. “Where’ve you been? I called the station and you weren’t there. So I called Tiny. We found your car and have been looking ever since.”

  “Gave us quite a scare,” said Tiny, walking up from behind.

  “Why didn’t you call?” demanded Greg.

  “That would be my fault,” said Detective Shorts. “I asked Miss Summers and her friend here to help me with a little problem.”

  “Problem? What kind of problem?”

  “Let’s just say it involved another plane of existence.”

  “Them ghosts followed you home,” blurted out Tiny. “Mel is quite the medium isn’t she? Maybe now you won’t scoff at her notions.”

  “What were you doing here?” Greg asked me.

  Before I could answer, Detective Shorts did. “Breaking and entering and someone called the police. I want no more of it.”

  “You,” said Tiny with amusement. “You broke into the dead chick’s house? I am disappointed in you, Mel.”

  Greg and Detective Shorts looked pleased that Tiny scolded me.

  “You should have invited me,” continued Tiny. “Why I know all sorts of ways to break in without ever getting caught. Next time give me a call. Ain’t no one going to call the cops on me.”

  “I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that,” said Detective Shorts. “Now, I want all of you to go home.”

  The roar of bikes and car engines filled the area as we all got in our respective vehicles and left. Jackie hummed to herself as I drove home deep in my thoughts. I knew who killed Allison, but had no way to prove it and any big plans I came up with had major drawbacks. In the end, I decided everyone was right. The time had come for me to let it go.

  “Mel, you missed the turn,” said Jackie waking me up from my zombie like state.

  “What? Oh.”

  I had been concentrating so much on my thoughts that I missed the turn into the complex. I slammed the brakes, whipped the car around in an illegal U-turn, and hit the gas.