Johnny shrugged. “I don’t have a clue. Vic seems on to something, though.”
The ghost nodded. “It’s more familiar territory for me. We’ll go creeping.”
“Haunts?” his partner asked.
“We still need more info, kid,” he explained. “And with most witnesses dead, you are more likely to know as much about this guy as any breather. So we’ll have to talk to the undead and see what they know.”
He nodded. “Where would we start? There are so many of those in New Orleans.”
“The Carnivale,” Vic revealed. “The place where Dwayne showed up. If that is one of the crossways in the city, it gets considerable traffic to and from Limbo. There might even be a chance that our new ‘buddy’ came in from there.”
Valerie frowned. “It’s not a bad idea but you should know that we don’t have many informants in the dead side of things. The ghost population around here is fairly insular.”
“The criminal ghost population you mean?” he asked.
She nodded. “I suppose to be more specific, sure.”
“It’s an important distinction,” he pointed out. “You have to remember that ghosts still have all their human feelings and thoughts. You’re a human who can’t understand them and a cop. It’s not a great combination for casual conversation, especially with the ‘underworld.’” He emphasized “underworld” with air quotes.
“I’ll keep that in mind.” She sighed. “Do you need anything else? I have to go.”
Johnny extended a hand and she shook it briskly. “We should be good. Thanks for your help. We’ll keep you in the loop.”
“Appreciated. Try to not get yourselves killed—or you at least, Jonathan,” she said with a smile before she departed.
He frowned. “If I wanted people to call me by my full name, I would use it.” He glared at Vic, who simply slid his hands into his pockets and drifted off.
“Hey, she would have worked it out for herself. What else would Johnny be short for?” He wandered to the street and noticed a couple of ghosts chatting nearby. “I’ll get directions to the bar.”
“Uh-huh.” The young detective sighed as he looked for a cab. “Let’s hurry. I want to see what goodies she left us.”
Once they had left the metropolitan area, Johnny finally unzipped the bag. “So we have the gun, a small medkit, a vial of stygia, a map of the city, and this.” He took a circular device out. “Wasn’t this what she used at the Limbo market?”
“The ether blockade,” Vic said with a nod. “That’s useful. I gotta say they are well equipped in the NOPD.”
He placed the gun in his holster and the rest of the items in various pockets. “What they have in gadgets, we make up for in skill.”
“That’s the spirit, kid,” his partner responded. “Although I could be spirit enough for us.”
The young detective rolled his eyes. “You can keep the boomer jokes to yourself, Vic.”
“Boomer?” the ghost muttered. “I was born in the silent generation, kid.”
“Well, you didn’t take it to heart.” He chuckled, peered out the window, and frowned at the buildings that grew increasingly decrepit. “Haunts indeed.”
“Take your eye patch off,” Vic instructed. “Have a look at life on the other side.”
Johnny complied. Dozens of ghosts wandered the area, some inside homes and living as families or roommates while others drifted around looking for company. “There are certainly more around here than in the city, at least out in the open.” He noticed a smaller ghost seated on a swing under a tree with no one around her. “It seems like a lonely life. Why stay here or come back instead of going to Limbo?”
“Everyone has their reasons, Johnny,” his partner replied in a flat tone. “Some can’t get over their death. Others don’t feel at home over there like they do here. In the end, some will realize it's for the best that they head to Limbo while others would rather be obliterated.”
“Even the religious ones?”
Vic snickered. “Especially the religious ones. In all the religions that talk about Purgatory or the like, when has it even been a good thing?”
“Limbo isn’t exactly Purgatory. The big jail is literally called that,” Johnny pointed out.
“True.” The ghost detective nodded. “But it isn’t exactly Heaven or Paradise either, is it?” He pointed out the window. “It isn’t all bad and for some, it can be a fresh start.”
The young man looked at a male and female ghost playing with a child ghost as they passed. It was sweet in a macabre way. “I suppose so.”
They continued the drive in silence while dark clouds began to roll above. Johnny tensed given that their last encounters had begun with dark clouds, but he relaxed somewhat when a gentle rain began to fall.
The cab driver pulled up at the Carnivale, which was on a mostly abandoned road—at least to the living. A couple of restaurants and shops were filled with ghosts going about their business. “All right, we’re here. I’m not sure why and not sure I wanna know,” the driver said and turned to Johnny. “That’ll be sixty-seven dollars and—” His eyes widened when he noticed his passenger’s glowing eye.
The young detective smiled and handed him seventy dollars. “Keep the change.” He nodded to him and opened the door, stepped out with Vic, and closed it behind him before the driver accelerated away. The area was lively and he could hear the sounds of laughter and live music from within—Jazz, appropriately enough. He took his phone out and checked the time. “It’s only five-forty.”
“What use is time to us?” Vic asked with a smirk. “We don’t sleep.”
“Do you think we might bump into Louis Armstrong in one of these places?” he asked.
The ghost shook his head. “Nah. All the dead entertainers generally stay in Limbo. There is more money that way and there are fans there.” He smiled as he took his pack of cigarettes out. “I got to see him before I met you. He’s still one of the best doing it.”
Johnny dug for the lighter and handed it to him. “Well, I guess when my time comes, at least it’ll be entertaining.”
His partner lit his cigarette and pocketed both the pack and lighter. “Think about that later. We still have a job to do.”
“Right,” he agreed as they headed to the entrance. “What are the chances I might be able to get something to drink here?”
“At a ghost bar?” Vic laughed. “Slim to none, kid.”
“Yeah, I thought so.” He sighed and cracked his fingers before he pulled the door open. “Ah, well. I suppose one of us should stay sober.”
Chapter Seventeen
When they entered, they were confronted by smoke, cheers from a large section where a game was playing on an old TV, and a jazz band in full swing with dancers near the stage.
“Man, they cater to a big crowd, huh?” Johnny commented. He gestured unobtrusively to a group of ghosts dressed in pinstriped suits with women in flapper outfits. “And generations.”
“It takes considerable work to set up a place like this.” Vic looked toward the bar as he took a drag. “This means there tends to be some of them strictly for ghosts. It’s better for us in this instance as it means fewer places to check.”
The young detective began to move to the bar. “How is that better? Doesn’t having fewer places to check mean we have fewer chances to find something?”
“Maybe, but someone has to have seen something. With these being the most popular places, we have a better chance to get something out of them.” The ghost retrieved his bag of coins from his jacket as a couple wandered away from the bar and they took their places. “Let me handle this, kid.”
“It’s fine by me,” he muttered, aware that several sets of eyes had focused on him. “Maybe I’ll go mingle.”
“Yeah, do that. See if you can get something out of them,” Vic instructed as he waved at a bartender. “And play up the whole exotic scenario. They’ll love that.”
“Most do and some a little too much. Do you r
emember that guy who wanted to buy me from you?” he asked as he got off his seat.
“Well, don’t talk to guys like that—stranger danger and all that. Be mindful.” His partner waved him off and went to talk to some of the ghosts who still stared at him.
The bartender approached. “Hey, pal. What are you having?”
“Whiskey, our stuff and the good stuff too,” he said and placed a doubloon on the counter.
The man took it and examined the red ruby in the center. “You could probably get a bottle of it for this.”
“Then keep it coming. We might be here a while.” The bartender nodded and turned to take a bottle off the wall. As he did so, the ghost detective took out a stack of ten of the same doubloons and placed them on the bar. “While I’m here, I need something else—some information.”
“Information? What kind? Directions or something?” The man turned with the bottle and a shot glass and his jaw dropped when he saw the stack of coins.
“The kind that is hard to come by.” He looked around and took another drag. “Is your boss in?”
“Uh, yeah. Hold on a sec.” He poured a shot quickly and left the bottle as he stepped out of the bar area and into the back. Vic jingled his bag and sighed at the somewhat depleted contents before he put it away. A ghost snoozed next to him with his head on the counter. He checked the mug clutched in the drunk’s hand. It was still half-full but the ten or so mugs in front of him indicated that he wouldn’t get anything out of him, and the chatty couple next to him were too enamored with each other to bother with for now. Still, as long as the owner paid half a mind to his patrons, he had a good chance.
He shifted his attention to the bartender who approached beside a large orange-hued ghost with a twirled black mustache. The proprietor wore a simple white dress shirt and black vest and slacks but they were certainly made of nice material. After pointing Vic out to his boss, the bartender returned to his duties and the orange ghost nodded and drifted closer.
“I heard you need some information,” he began, his voice rough—probably a smoker in life and if the cigar in his vest pocket was any indication, death too. His gaze settled on the coins on the counter. “What kind of information is worth this much?”
“Are you looking a gift horse in the mouth?” Vic poured himself another shot and gestured toward the owner with the bottle to offer him some. The boss nodded, took a shot glass off the shelf, and waited while it was filled. “I need information about some strange goings-on around the city.”
“Stranger than NOLA normally is?” the boss asked and downed the shot. “If she were a lady, she’d be a pretty thing but crazy too.”
Vic laughed. “No kidding.” He swallowed his second shot and tasted some spicy notes. “I’m talking strange for us and the breathers. The killings that have been going on.”
The orange ghost froze for a second and inclined his head with a frown. “What makes you think I or anyone here knows anything about that?”
“I can’t say that I do, but it’s worth a try.” He reached for the coins. “I thought in a place like this with so many people coming by and a good owner who always keeps his ear out, there might be something passing through that could be of use.” He began to drag the coins away. “But if not, I can go and try—”
His companion stopped his hand and leaned closer. “Why are you looking into this?”
“It’s work-related,” he answered. “I’m a detective. My name’s Vic.”
The boss’ eyes brightened for a second. “Vic? Vic Kane from Chicago?”
Vic’s eyes widened in surprise. “You know me from life?”
The other ghost shook his head. “Not personally but you did some work for my cousin back in the day. Julio Garcia.”
He laughed. “No kidding? Yeah, I remember Julio. His bar was one of my favorites to drink at.”
“That case you worked?” The ghost released his hand. “Getting the dirt the mafia had on him and destroying it helped the whole family, man. It let him expand and brought money in. That’s how I ended up opening this place in life.”
“And you were able to keep it open in death?” Vic was surprised. “How did you manage that.”
The boss smirked. “Well, we had a good reputation by the end but unfortunately, it was lost in a fire during a gang fight in the street. A Molotov or something started it. I ended up dying in the flames but I took all the knowledge I acquired by running the business and had some connections in the afterlife who helped set me up again. I think I might be doing better dead than I did alive.” He proffered his hand. “Well, I guess I at least know you aren’t some snitch or anything. My name’s Romeo.”
He took his hand and they shook. “Pleasure, Romeo. That’s a strong handshake you have there.” He slid the coins into place again.
Romeo picked a few up and let them drop. “Just because I look like a skeleton doesn’t mean I gotta be one, you know?” He chuckled as he spread the coins, confirmed that all of them had the red diamonds, and whistled. “Damn. Seriously, man, do you honestly think information is worth all this?”
Vic adjusted his hat. “Well, given what’s been going on and the fact that no official action has been taken by the Agency up here or the Wild Hunt dead side, I’m beginning to think there’s some kind of cover-up.”
“There could be,” the orange ghost muttered. “But I don’t think it’s all that complicated. Nothing from the big boys at least.”
“The mob?” he asked and gestured with his head to some of the guys in suits. “They have a fairly strong hold on this town again, don’t they?”
Romeo nodded. “More the ghost side of things, obviously, but they can get things done on the living side. They might know more than you or I but I don’t think this was their plan or anything. I think they are trying to keep things as quiet as possible so the big boys don’t show up themselves and take them on at the same time.”
The detective chuckled and poured another glass before he finished his cigarette and stamped it out in an ashtray. “I guess they didn’t get this far by being complete idiots. Still, I’d have to assume that even if someone had information, they’d be hesitant to speak about it given its potential to backfire and coin has a way of calming the nerves, kind of like liquor.” He took the other ghost’s glass and poured another shot. “Would you care for some more?”
Silence reigned for a moment while the proprietor counted the coins and sighed before he placed them in his pocket and downed the shot. “This is more about paying the debt but I won’t look a gift horse in the mouth.” He smiled wryly. “What do you need?”
“Anything you have about the killer,” Vic responded. “And to specify, the one who leaves the breathers looking like husks.”
“It’s not only the breathers,” Romeo stated and leaned closer. “They only started dealing with it two months ago, but before that—say three months and change—many of our people went as well and it wasn’t anything to do with the mob or gangs. I have patrons from all types of ‘completely legitimate’ enterprises and they seemed as spooked as anyone else.”
“Obliterated?” Vic asked. “How many?”
“At least twenty.”
“Twenty?” Startled, he raised his voice a little and his companion caught his hand to hold him down.
“Yeah, keep it cool, man. You already saw that some of the patrons are of the ‘questions later’ type.” The proprietor smoothed the detective’s jacket. “And those twenty are only the ones we know about. They were mafia guys, gang members, and a couple of business types. A family went missing. I’ve heard no word on them but they haven’t been found.”
“When they were obliterated, were their fragments found?” Vic asked.
Romeo rubbed the back of his neck. “That’s the thing. From what I heard, they were in pieces but not the kind we typically think of when they burst apart before they fade away. They found actual parts.”
The ghost detective frowned. “That’s harsh, but unless you are
brand new to being a ghost, you can eventually recover from even injuries like that.”
“Not in the state they were in, man.” The orange ghost shuddered. “I never saw one but heard the details. They were found in pieces, broken or cut through with what was probably an ax.”
Vic nodded. “That sounds right.”
“But they wouldn’t reform. By the time they were found, they had lost the light in their eyes and the shine on their bones and would simply crack and turn into wisps of ether in most cases.”
“So you couldn’t even touch them then. Hell.” He poured another shot. “Were there any witnesses?”
Romeo held two fingers up. “Only two, but both reported the same thing. The victims were killed by a ghost but nothing like they’ve ever seen before.”
“Description?”
The proprietor took down a bottle of dark liquid off the shelf behind him. “They said he was the color of the night, like this.” He shook the bottle. “They probably wouldn’t have seen him if it wasn’t for the white haze that came off him.”
“White haze?” Vic thought back to the spirit they had fought earlier. “I don’t know of any ghost that has that.”
“Neither do I.” The orange ghost folded his arms and looked around the bar and lounge. “There’s a pool running for what it turns out to be. Demon has the most votes.” He looked curiously at him. “What’s your take? Could it be a demon?”
He raised his glass. “It could be. Demons come in many forms. They share some traits but most are unique.” He downed the drink and flipped the glass. “It might seem crazy but I hope it is that. I at least know how to deal with a demon.”
Romeo chuckled. “Prayer?”
Vic looked at him. “Some say that works. I prefer getting my hands on blessed bullets and shooting until it stops moving.”
Chapter Eighteen
“Great, it was nice meeting you and I’ll get back to that offer for my skin some other time.” Johnny shuffled quickly to Vic, took the seat next to him, and hung his head. “Yeah, it seems everyone in here is one of ‘those guys.’” He sighed and stretched a hand out for the pack. “Please tell me you found something. I got jack.”
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