My Neighbours Are Stealing My Mail

by Ian Edwards

  Brett gripped James’s shoulder. ‘Bloody hell. An actual real life proper ghost. My first one.’

  ‘What about the headless ones?’ James asked.

  ‘We didn’t actually see them. Only Chester has seen them.’

  James nodded. ‘Fair enough.’

  ‘Where is Chester? ‘Alfie asked while continuing to focus his camera on the new arrival.

  Alan felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. ‘Sorry guys, I should really take this,’ he said, pulling his phone from his pocket. ‘Hi Sarah.’

  ‘Alan, I haven’t been able to see much of the show. The stupid connection keeps going down. Is everything OK?’

  He looked at James and rolled his eyes. ‘It’s all good here thanks. Very quiet.’

  ‘Really? I thought with the séance it would all have kicked off?’

  Alan looked at the apparition in front of him. ‘No, nothing I’m afraid. In fact, we’re thinking of calling it a night.’

  ‘Oh,’ she said, disappointed. ‘I really thought you’d have seen the ghost by now.’

  Alan laughed. ‘Wouldn’t you be better off getting some rest? We’ll pop by and see you tomorrow.’

  ‘You’re probably right,’ Sarah conceded. ‘I just feel so helpless in bed while you’re out there chasing ghosts.’

  ‘No problem, bye.’ Alan said quickly and finished the call. ‘Right, where were we?’ He said, looking at James who nodded towards the shimmering apparition.

  ‘He’s a tall lad,’ Frankie said. ‘I bet he took some burying.’

  Vincent Martinelli was indeed a tall man. Several inches taller than Alan, with neatly cut black hair and a moustache. He wore a smart black dinner suit covered in dust. His only real distinguishing features were a translucent complexion and a chunk missing from the left side of his skull, spattered with dry blood.

  Out of the corner of his eye, Alan saw Chester’s head pop up from behind a work bench and back down again.

  ‘Chester,’ Alfie hissed. ‘Chester, we need you.’

  Chester gingerly stood up, brushing himself down.

  ‘What were you doing down there?’ Brett asked.

  Chester moved round the workbench towards Brett, putting several feet between him and Vincent.

  ‘I was tying my shoelaces,’ he explained somewhat unconvincingly. ‘Sometimes they come undone at the most inopportune moments.’

  ‘I think you should speak to him,’ Alan said. ‘Find out what he wants.’

  ‘Why me?’

  ‘You’re the medium. Isn’t this what you do?’

  ‘I suppose so,’ he replied reluctantly. ‘I mean, if I have to?’

  Chester gingerly stepped forward, Brett following a short distance behind, the mic wobbling overhead.

  ‘Alright?’ Chester managed, through chattering teeth.

  Vincent stared at him.

  ‘How are you?’

  ‘Carlo?’ Vincent croaked.

  ‘That’s one of his brothers,’ James pointed out.

  ‘Thanks mate. Very helpful,’ Alan said, sarcastically.

  Chester offered Vincent his hand. ‘I’m Chester,’ he said. ‘I’m very pleased to meet you.’

  Vincent ignored the proffered hand, turning to look slowly around the cellar. ‘Leonardo?’ He called out. ‘Are you here?’

  Chester moved nervously around in front of the apparition. ‘He’s not here. Neither of your brothers are.’

  Two of the lights flickered and went out. The temperature dropped by several degrees, James shivered. ‘It’s starting again,’ he said.

  Frankie stepped forward alongside Alan. ‘I’ll be honest, I don’t think digging him up has made a difference.’

  A gentle breeze blew round the cellar, something hit the ground with a metallic clang and the remaining lights flickered.

  Alfie removed his camera from his shoulder and checked it over. ‘It’s dead. It’s completely dead.’

  ‘Are you troubled Vincent?’ Chester asked. ‘Can we help you?’

  ‘I need to see my brothers,’ Vincent said, his Italian accent more pronounced.

  ‘I’m afraid they’re dead,’ Chester said firmly. ‘They died many years ago.’

  Vincent stopped. He stared down at Chester and smiled the smile of the dead, freezing Chester where he stood. Vincent’s maniacal grin turned to one of blind fury. He flung his right hand out, sweeping the medium into the corner of the cellar with a loud crash.

  As Brett tried to pull the mic out of the way, Vincent snatched at it, pulling it from Brett’s grasp and free from its power pack before hurling it in the cellar’s darkest corner.

  ‘This is going really well,’ Frankie said. ‘Son, I think we should be getting out of here. Like, now.’

  Alan nodded and called out. ‘Time to go boys.’

  As James turned, the door slammed shut and another light blinked off. ‘What the…’

  ‘Where’s he gone?’ Alfie asked.

  Alan and James darted their heads left and right, but it looked as though Vincent had disappeared.

  Chester got to his feet, brushing dust from his trousers. ‘That’s never happened before.’

  ‘We have to go,’ Alan said. ‘James, try the door.’

  James pushed the door frantically, but it wouldn’t budge.

  ‘It’s jammed,’ James shouted back. The howl of a gale blew through the cellar.

  ‘Let me try,’ Alan lent heavily against the door to no avail. ‘He’s right, it’s jammed.’

  ‘We’re stuck down here,’ James said, giving the door a kick.

  ‘Pull the bloody thing,’ Frankie shouted.

  Alan pulled the handle. The door opened with a creak.

  ‘I was going to try that next,’ James said.

  ‘Well done Alan. Good thinking,’ Chester said. ‘Let’s get the hell out of here.’

  Before anyone could move, Vincent stepped out of the darkest corner. ‘I need to see my brothers…’ He lifted his hand to his head and gingerly touched the wound. He winced. ‘Ouch.’

  ‘It’s probably a bit sore,’ Chester said. ‘Why don’t you have a sit down and tell us all about it.’

  Alan shuffled up to Frankie. ‘What’s he doing?’ He whispered as Vincent prowled the cellar taking in his surroundings.

  Frankie pulled a face. ‘I’m not sure. He’s probably just getting his bearings. Maybe we should…’ He stopped talking as Vincent came striding towards them. He stopped briefly in front of Frankie before gliding through the door and up the stairs.

  Chester peered through the door. ‘Where’s he gone?’

  ‘Do you think he’ll just disappear now that he’s out of the ground?’ James asked. He was answered by two loud crashes like someone dropping a bag of spanners, and then the sound of breaking glass.

  Alan stepped through the door. He cautiously stood on the bottom stair, trying to listen to what was going on upstairs.

  Alfie laughed. James looked confused. ‘What’s so funny?’ James asked.

  ‘One brother smashing the place up while looking for his other brothers, sounds like every Christmas that I can remember,’ Alfie replied.

  Chapter 47

  Alan stood in the foyer, hands on hips. ‘Bloody hell, it looks like our Vincent has torn right through here,’ he said, pointing to the scene of destruction in front of him. The scale model had been broken, its pieces strewn across the floor, mixed with torn plans, over turned tables and several dismantled chairs. Even the site office windows had been smashed, leaving the jagged remains of broken window panes.

  James stared out through one of the broken windows. ‘Hander’s gone. There’s no note. So I guess the ambulance turned up and took him away.’

  Alan crouched down to pick up a piece of broken model, turning it over in his hands. He paused for a moment, hearing a noise emanating from the stairs. A faint shuffling sound and what sounded like laboured breathing.

  James came bounding out of the office. ‘What’s up?’

&n
bsp; Alan shushed James with a finger to his lips. ‘Quiet. There’s someone on the stairs.’

  They turned and faced the entrance to the cellar.

  ‘I can’t hear anything,’ James said.

  ‘Listen,’ Alan dropped his voice to a whisper. ‘I think there’s someone coming up the stairs.’

  James shook his head. ‘Really? I can’t hear it.’

  The sounds from the cellar grew closer, the breathing more ragged. Alan ducked behind one of the upturned tables. ‘Quick, down here,’ he dragged James down with him.

  After a few seconds, they both tentatively peered over the table, eyes fixed on the top of the stairs. Slowly and with much grumbling, Frankie struggled through the doorway.

  ‘Those bloody stairs, they’ll be the death of me,’ he moaned. ‘Why are you two hiding behind a table?’

  Alan stood up. ‘Mate, it’s only Frankie. No one important.’

  ‘Bloody cheek,’ Frankie said, righting a chair and sitting on it. ‘Talking about wandering around aimlessly, where are the ghostbusters?’

  Alan nodded towards the doors leading to the rest of the theatre. ‘They’ve adjourned to the auditorium to discuss what to do next. I heard Alfie say there’s no footage from the cellar. The camera didn’t work. God knows what’s been seen on TV.’

  ‘There is one thing I don’t understand, ‘James said placing a chair next to Frankie.

  Alan raised an eyebrow. ‘Just one?’

  ‘Yeah, just one.’ He turned to the empty chair next to him. ‘Why can we see this Vinnie ghost but we can’t see Frankie?’

  Alan looked at Frankie. ‘He’s got a point.’

  ‘He doesn’t know,’ Alan said for James’ benefit. He turned back to Frankie

  Frankie looked from Alan to James and shrugged his shoulders. ‘What are you looking at me for? How would I know?’

  . ‘Well, how about you take a guess. Of the three of us you’re the most qualified to comment.’

  Frankie raised his hands in surrender. ‘I don’t know,’ he snapped. ‘Maybe it’s because this Vincent character is angry. It looks like his brothers killed him. That would give me the hump too. But, then again I am well known for my laid back attitude. No one since Hitler has tried to kill me.’

  Alan turned to James. ‘He says it’s because he’s cool and laid back while Vinnie is a deranged psychotic killer. Apparently they’re easier to see.’

  James nodded as though this were common knowledge. ‘That makes sense.’ He looked around the foyer. ‘Where do you think he is now? Vinnie I mean.’

  ‘Well, he’s unlikely to come back here,’ Alan said. ‘He’s probably roaming the building looking for his brothers.’

  Frankie leaned back in his chair, lacing his fingers behind his head. ‘You do know we could just leave and let the ghostbusters sort this mess out.’

  Alan grinned. ‘That’s the most sensible suggestion I’ve heard since we got here.’

  ‘What’s that?’ James asked.

  ‘Frankie thinks we should go home and leave them to it.’

  James stood up. ‘Too right. I’ve had enough fun for one evening.’

  *

  ‘I think we can safely say Vinnie has been this way,’ James said.

  The corridor was in as bad a mess as the foyer. The protective plastic coverings had been pulled from the walls. The walls themselves had what looked to James like fingernail scratches undulating along their length. In one place the wall had been hit so hard a chunk of plaster had fallen away, leaving a gaping hole above the skirting board.

  ‘Temper, temper,’ Frankie mumbled and continued the walk back towards the auditorium.

  ‘Have you noticed..?’ Alan stopped by an open door. ‘That every door we’ve passed is open? Look,’ he gestured at an open door to emphasise his point.

  James stepped next to him. ‘Vinnie looking for his brothers?’

  ‘I would imagine so,’ Alan closed the door. ‘Come on, let’s go and….’

  ‘Someone’s coming,’ Frankie called out.

  ‘Quick. In here,’ he said, pushing James through the doorway before following him in and quietly closing the door.

  ‘What are you doing?’ James whispered.

  ‘We’re hiding. I don’t want Vinnie getting us confused with his brothers.’

  ‘OK, hang on a minute.’ James fumbled in his pocket for his phone. He switched on the torch app, illuminating the room. ‘It’s empty.’ He played the light left to right.

  ‘Shush,’ Alan hissed. ‘Once it’s clear we can go.’

  James nodded. Realising Alan couldn’t see him nod, he whispered. ‘OK. When will we know if it’s clear?’

  ‘Frankie can let us know.’

  James grabbed Alan’s arm. ‘There’s someone outside,’ he whispered.

  Alan crept forward, listening carefully at the door. He sensed rather than heard a presence. ‘There’s someone the other side of the door,’ he whispered in return.

  ‘Frankie?’ James said.

  ‘I don’t know, possibly,’ Alan paused. ‘Shit! The door’s opening.’

  ‘Hide,’ James hissed.

  ‘Where? It’s an empty room.’

  James grabbed him, pulling him against the wall. ‘We’ll be behind the door when it opens.’

  ‘Genius,’ Alan pushed himself against the wall as the door slowly creaked open. A sliver of light broadened across the floor in front of them. ‘Shit, did it not occur to you that the door opens to the left?’ He hissed. ‘We’re standing on the right.’

  ‘Damn, I didn’t think of that.’

  Alfie stood in front of them. ‘Dudes. Why are you standing in the dark?’

  ‘We were just having a look round,’ Alan said.

  Alfie raised an eyebrow. ‘OK, cool. Sorry to disturb you guys, but Joy wants everyone in the auditorium. Now.’

  ‘Everything OK?’ Alan asked.

  Alfie frowned. ‘There’s been a bit of a Vinnie incident.’

  Alan and James filtered out of the room. Alfie made to follow them, stopping to pick something off the ground. ‘You left this behind,’ he called out, handing Alan a small ball.

  ‘That’s not ours.’

  Alfie shrugged. ‘It was on the floor. Right where you were standing.’

  ‘Auditorium. Now,’ Alan said.

  James nodded. ‘Yep. Now,’ he said, chasing his friend along the corridor.

  *

  Alan peered into the pit. ‘What’s she doing down there?’

  ‘Not a lot by the looks of it,’ Frankie said helpfully.

  ‘Marjorie,’ Alan called out. ‘Are you OK down there?’

  Marjorie groaned in response.

  Frankie shuffled forward, leaning further over the pit. ‘She looks like she’s been folded up and put into storage.’

  Alan peered down at Marjorie who did indeed look like she had been folded in two. She sat on the floor, bent forward at the waist so her head touched her knees.

  ‘What actually happened?’ James asked Joy.

  Joy took a swig from her water bottle. ‘We were on stage when the temperature dropped, and I mean really dropped. It was bloody freezing. Then Chester thought he saw Vinnie standing at the back of the auditorium. Then the winds picked up. Wind inside a building, who would have thought it possible? Anyway, Chester said Vinnie was on stage, which caused Marjorie to step backwards. As she stepped back, the trapdoor opened and she fell down it.’

  James bit his tongue to stop himself laughing. ‘You think this has something to do with Vinnie?’

  Joy nodded. ‘Definitely. That trap door was locked. It was checked before we started filming, and it opened exactly when Marjorie stepped onto it.’

  She looked over at Alan. ‘Has she moved at all?’

  Alan shook his head. ‘No. She has groaned a few times though.’

  Joy looked into the pit. ‘Marjorie, don’t worry. There’s an ambulance on its way.’

  Another groan.

  Joy tur
ned away from the pit. ‘I’m not sure what else we can do at the moment,’ she whispered.

  ‘You could shut the trap door,’ Frankie suggested. ‘Give us a break from all that wailing.’

  Alan smirked. ‘What’s the plan for the rest of the show?’ He asked. ‘Only James and I were thinking that we ….’

  The overhead lights pinged off plunging the auditorium into darkness.

  ‘Chester,’ Joy called out. ‘What’s happening?’

  ‘The lights have gone out,’ he called back, somewhat unnecessarily.

  ‘Yes, I can see that…’

  ‘Well you can’t, can you? That’s the problem,’ Alfie added.

  Joy sighed. ‘Yes, but why have they gone out?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Chester called out from the darkness. ‘I’m not an electrician.’

  ‘Is it anything to do with Vinnie?’ She shouted back, exasperated.

  One by one mobile phones began to illuminate the stage as people turned their torch apps on.

  Tapping the screen of this phone, Chester played the light around the stage. ‘I think it might have something to do with Vinnie,’ he called out.

  ‘OK,’ Joy acknowledged, casting a beam of light in Chester’s direction. ‘Why’s that?’

  ‘He’s….’ Chester paused for a moment. ‘Well he appears to be standing over the trap door pit.’

  Several beams of light converged on the trap door, picking out the translucent figure hovering a foot above the pit opening.

  ‘Ah,’ Joy said. ‘That’s what you meant by “standing over the trap door pit”.’

  ‘That’s pretty cool to be fair,’ James admitted.

  ‘I’ll check the fuse box,’ Brett jumped from the stage.

  Vinnie looked in his direction and Brett cried out in pain.

  Several torch beams focused on the edge of the stage.

  ‘What happened?’ Chester shone his light on Brett who sat on the floor rubbing his ankle.

  ‘I landed on this…’ He held up a small ball. ‘I’ve twisted my ankle.’

  ‘It’s another of those balls again,’ Frankie said. ‘Juggling balls.’

  Chester helped Brett to his feet. ‘Come on man, put your weight on me.’

  Brett winced and reached out for the edge of the stage.

  The overhead lights blinked back on. Alan looked around the theatre but there was no sign of Vinnie.