by H. P. Bayne
Tristan, who tended to stare at Dez more than talk.
“How was your weekend?” Dez asked, more to avoid the silence than because he expected an interesting answer.
“It was kind of weird.”
Dez spared the boy a glance over his shoulder in between feeding slices of bread into the toaster. “Weird, how?”
“Dad and I went fishing.”
“You guys go fishing a lot, don’t you?”
“Yeah, but it was weird this time.”
Dez resisted the eye-roll and the exact repeat of his previous question. “In what way?”
“I caught something.” He cleared his throat. “Not a fish—a piece of cloth. It freaked Dad out really bad. He didn’t want to stay after. I could tell.”
“Because of the piece of cloth?”
“Because of the ghost.”
That had Dez’s attention. He turned fully toward Tristan to ask the obvious next question. “What ghost?”
“The one at Dead Man’s Lake. Everyone’s heard of him.”
“Dead Man’s Lake? That’s where you were fishing?”
“Yeah. They stock it with trout and pike. I like trout better. You can catch pike anywhere.” Tristan leaned on the last word as if exhausted by the idea.
“Did you see the ghost?”
“No, just Dad did. He didn’t tell me about it, but I heard him on the phone, talking to my uncle. He said he was really freaked but didn’t want to leave because I was having fun, and he didn’t want to scare me. He ignored me when I asked him about it. He said he’d been imagining things. But I think he really saw the ghost.”
“Huh,” Dez said.
“Do you believe in ghosts?” Tristan asked.
Dez peered down at the kid, wondering how best to answer. Dez didn’t just believe in ghosts, he knew they were real. Knew firsthand.
No way to avoid it when your brother possessed the unusual skill of seeing the spirits of homicide victims.
Sullivan “Sully” Gray stretched out on the unmade sofa bed and unfolded Emily Crichton’s paper to scan the lower section of the front page.
Emily always read her paper first thing, insisting on waking shortly before five so she had her coffee on by the time the newspaper dropped outside her apartment door. Many mornings, by the time Sully awoke, Emily had finished with it and had slipped it beneath his door for him to read.
Given the atypical path of his life, he found comfort in the normalcy of being able to sit down to do the morning crossword while, on the other side of the small bachelor suite, the coffee machine dripped out the morning supply.
Late winter and the sun seemed a bit sluggish today, so Sully held the paper closer to the lamp to scan the headlines.
“Protest impedes Crystal Lake development.”
The past few years hadn’t been conducive to staying up to date with the news, and the headline had Sully scanning the article for information on the proposed development. Crystal Lake—re-dubbed Dead Man’s Lake by the broader public, thanks to a popular legend about the place—had been one of his dad’s favourite summer fishing spots. There was one small bay in particular where Flynn Braddock had enjoyed dropping the anchor, one he had self-christened Trout Haven. Sully could still picture Flynn grinning widely as he urged Dez or Sully to take his photo so Mara could see him holding his latest catch.
The memory put a smile on Sully’s face—one the article quickly wiped away. A company called Bright Sands was wanting to develop a large section of the lakefront for use as a resort community. Though it had been petitioning the government—the current land holder—to grant the purchase, it had run up against roadblocks in the form of protesters. Not everyone, it seemed, was eager to see a large swath of forest removed and a bunch of lakeside mansions erected in their place.
Sully understood their opposition.
He was interrupted mid-grumble by his cellphone, ringing from its spot on the end table. He snagged it from its charging cable and recognized Dez’s number on the display.
“Did you read the paper this morning?” Sully asked by way of greeting.
“No. Why?”
“The proposed Dead Man’s Lake development.”
“Oh, that. Didn’t you hear about it before?”
“I don’t stay in the loop as much as I should, I guess.” It was true. Filled as his life was with tragedy and loss, many days he avoided the news altogether. Sometimes, all he’d do was scan the paper’s headlines. Other times, he’d flip right to the puzzles and comics, then dump the paper in the recycling bin.
“Well, it’s been an ongoing battle,” Dez said. “So far, the development company’s grabbing the short straw. It’s an election year, and there’s enough opposition to the proposal to keep the government dancing around it. I think they want the money. They just don’t want to lose control in the process.”
“Isn’t there supposed to be some sort of public consultation process over things like this?”
“Not really. I mean, even though it’s government land, it’s not a park or anything. They can sell off Crown land as long as no one’s renting it or holds some other sort of rights. So far, people have been vocal about not wanting development there. There have been a lot of calls for a public consultation process, so fingers crossed.”
“Yeah, fingers crossed.” It occurred to Sully Dez had probably called for a reason. “What’s up? Lachlan didn’t cancel out on his share of surveillance duty this morning, did he?”
“No, nothing about work. Something kind of interesting came up, and I wondered whether it might be our kind of problem.”
“I hate to ask.”
Dez provided the info anyway. “One of Kayleigh’s friends came over this morning. He said his dad saw a ghost while they were ice fishing at Dead Man’s Lake this weekend. He thinks it’s the ghost.”
“The Ice Man?” Sully asked. “I didn’t think there was anything to that. Just a lot of tall tales.”
“Apparently it’s a little more than that,” Dez said. “I know the kid’s dad. He lives down the block. He’s a solid guy, not prone to making things up. But there’s something else too. Tristan said he caught something that really freaked his dad out—a piece of fabric. It got me thinking. What if this Ice Man story is true? What if what Tristan caught is evidence the ghost is real and his body’s in the water somewhere?”
Sully smiled knowingly into his phone. “You’re hoping to get out of surveillance, aren’t you?”
“Shut up. I’m serious.”
“Since when have you ever purposefully tried to involve yourself in an investigation involving a ghost?”
“Since now. Look, Lachlan’s got surveillance covered until after lunch. I’m heading over to Adam’s to ask what he saw. If it pans out, I thought maybe you and I could swing by Dead Man’s Lake, check it out.”
“You really are serious,” Sully said. “Okay. Do you want me to come over and go with you to talk to Adam?”
“Nah. Knowing him, he’ll have a hard enough time admitting it to me. If another guy’s around, he’ll probably deny everything.”
“I hear you. Give me a call if you decide to head to the lake.”
Dez disconnected, leaving Sully to stew over the article’s contents. Reading down farther, he read a quote from Bright Sands CEO, Clive Josprey, going on about the fact the development would bring many needed jobs to the area, both temporary and permanent. He had envisioned not just homes but an entire community with stores, a gas station, a marina and restaurants. Some tourism-based businesses had also expressed interest, from a company specializing in speedboat tours and pontoon boat rentals to another wanting to set up an outdoor adventure park complete with zip line.
The idea made Sully’s stomach turn.
He scrolled through his contacts, then tapped on the number he had for Paul Dunsmore. The son of former business magnates, Paul had liquified his assets before scandal surrounding his family’s illegal doings broke Dunsmore Developments wide open. Wi
th shareholders—those who weren’t tied up in the same scandal—fighting over the scraps of the company, Paul had taken his own sizeable portion and put it into helping the community. He was the driving force behind a handful of shelters as well as The Hub, an inner-city community centre, which acted as both soup kitchen and program space. Most recently, Paul had turned his attention to helping to fund a program intended to aid those trying to exit gang life.
Paul answered on the second ring. “Sully!” he exclaimed.
Sully grinned at the joy in the man’s voice. “How are you, Paul?”
“Never better. I haven’t felt more productive in my entire life.”
“Getting out from under the thumb of your family was a good thing, huh?”
“You said it. I mean, I’ve always tried to do the things I’m doing. It’s just the first time I’m not faced with constant criticism from my family. They’re playing it very low key these days, staying out of the public eye as much as possible.” He laughed. “My father might actually come to me someday for advice.”
“He might,” Sully said. “Hey, I was wondering. Have you been following this Dead Man’s Lake development they’ve been talking about in the news?”
“I have. It’s a shame, if you ask me. We’re lucky to live in an area with so much pristine, natural beauty. The first thing people like Josprey want to do is tear into it and tame it for human use. We just can’t have anything nice, can we?”
“What are the chances of stopping someone like him?”
“Pretty good, I’d say. It’s government land, and the last thing politicians want to do is piss off voters, especially during an election year. A couple of media outlets have done polls and they point overwhelmingly to opposition to development at the lake. And the protest groups have grown quite a bit over the past year as Josprey and his minions have been trying to dig in their claws. Last protest about the proposed development had something around twelve hundred people present. A pretty sizeable number to show up for a protest over a proposed land sale.
“That said, sometimes money speaks louder than words. The government wants votes, but the state of the economy at the moment isn’t great either. They’d definitely love the money attached to a deal of this calibre. Short-term pain could be long-term gain if those dollars are transferred into programs of benefit to large segments of society. It’s all in the spin, you know.”
“I didn’t think of that. Maybe they’ll agree to public consultation on this.”
“Maybe. Josprey wouldn’t be happy. There’s a man who doesn’t appreciate being questioned. Personable enough fellow on the surface, but he likes things his way. I can’t imagine he’s very happy with the audacity of the protest groups putting a damper on his plans. I guess you could say the same for most people in big business. When you’ve made plans to invest millions, you want things to go as smoothly as possible to maximize your investment. Hiccups in the plan can be far more than an inconvenience.”
“Makes me even more grateful for the protestors.”
Paul said nothing, and Sully could sense the question before it came.
“I’m curious,” Paul said. “I know you and your brother go camping sometimes. Is that why you’re so interested in the outcome at the lake?”
“Sort of.” Sully glanced over to the kitchen as the coffee machine finished perking. He put the phone on speaker as he headed over and pulled a mug from the drying rack by the sink. “Dad, Dez and I used to go fishing there. It was Dad’s favourite spot if he wanted a quick day out on the lake. I have a lot of good memories there.”
“And it makes it harder when those memories are about a person you can’t make new memories with. I get it.”
Sully poured out the coffee, then mopped up a small spill before carrying the mug carefully to the kitchen table. “That’s a big part of it, I guess. A lot of the changes in my life over the past few years have been bad ones. I guess I’ve got to the point where I don’t trust change.”
“You’re an old man in a young man’s body, my friend.”
Sully took a cautious sip of coffee and decided he’d have to wait for the heat to settle. “I’ve kind of always been an old man.”
“Gift like you’ve got, I don’t doubt it. Tell you what, I’ll keep my ear to the ground on this proposed deal, see what shakes out. In the meantime, try not to worry about it. I’ve figured out the key to living my best life is to throw my energy and money into the things I can fix. Some things are out of our control, Sully. Once you learn to identify those things, the next step is teaching yourself how to let them go.”
“Maybe that’s my problem,” Sully said. “My entire life has been filled with ghosts. When it comes to letting things go, they set really bad examples.”
3
Adam Charles owned a house a few doors down from Dez on the opposite side of the street. Dez remembered when Adam’s wife Kerry lived here too, back when they were a tight-knit family of three like Dez, Eva and Kayleigh.
Or maybe they hadn’t been. Not long after they moved in, Kerry left. Dez had eventually learned she’d been having an affair with a co-worker and the two had fallen in love. Luckily, Adam and Kerry proved to be one of those couples who put their son first. They didn’t much like each other, but Dez had never heard Adam utter a bad word about Kerry in front of Tristan. And given the exes lived only a short distance from each other, they had arranged a system of shared custody, allowing Tristan to spend time with both of them while attending the same school.
As divorces went, theirs was as good as it could possibly come.
Didn’t mean Adam was happy about it. Whenever Tristan was at his mom’s, Adam’s eyes rarely showed light, and his face rarely held a smile. Dez wished he could tell his neighbour to get back into the dating scene, stick it to Kerry by finding himself a great woman to be happy with. But having had his own relationship struggles in the past, he knew advice was easier dished out than received. Dez had always recognized he was stuck deep when it came to his love for Eva; once in, there was no getting out for him—something he wouldn’t change even if he could. While he’d never spoken in any detail to Adam about it, Dez imagined he might feel the same way about Kerry. Moving on wasn’t an option for everyone.
He expected the usual glum expression upon Adam’s responding to Dez’s knock on the door. What he got instead was pale and drawn.
Dez skipped a proper greeting in favour of an observation. “Dude, you’re not looking so good.”
“Not sleeping much, I guess. How’s it going with you?”
“All right.”
“Kids get off to school okay?”
“They did.”
Speaking about Tristan always put a smile on Adam’s face, even if just a small one. “I think my boy’s got a thing for your girl.”
Dez fought back the grimace. “Yeah, I was thinking the same thing.”
Adam’s smile fell away. “You’re not here to tell me to get my kid to back off, are you?”
Dez chuckled to alleviate the man’s worry. “No, don’t worry. Tristan’s a good kid. You raised him right. Anyway, as my wife keeps telling me, they’re nine. I figure I won’t need to worry until they’re at least ten.”
Adam answered the laugh. “Thank God. Guy your size, I’d have to pack up and move away if you got offended.”
Dez decided it was time to bite the bullet. “Listen, this is kind of awkward, but Tristan mentioned something about your fishing trip this weekend. I wondered if I could talk to you about it.”
Adam’s face froze. “What about?”
“Something he said you saw.”
Adam’s colour dropped an extra shade. “How’d he hear about that?”
“He said he overheard you talking to your brother.”
“Brother-in-law. Kerry’s brother still likes me better than her.”
It was an attempt at much-needed levity, and Dez honoured it with a grin. “Can we talk about it for a minute?”
“What for? I don�
�t know what I saw. I was probably hallucinating.”
“But you weren’t,” Dez said. “Were you?”
The suspicion was clear on Adam’s face. Dez couldn’t blame him. Admitting to seeing a ghost wasn’t something a lot of guys did with their spouses, let alone some guy from down the block. Neighbours talked about the weather, the quality of lawn fertilizer or what to do about the cat pooping in everyone’s flowerbeds. Ghosts weren’t an approved topic of conversation in most cases.
“Look, man, I don’t—” Adam began.
Dez cut in quick. “I know it sounds weird, but I think I can help. And maybe help’s needed. Tristan said he pulled up a piece of fabric. Makes me think maybe there’s something to this, something that needs investigating. I was a police officer, and I’m a private investigator now. I can check into it, see if I can find some answers.”
“I don’t know if I want answers.” Despite his words, Adam stepped aside and pulled the door open, far enough it was clear he was issuing an invitation inside.
Dez took him up on it.
Because Adam was in IT, he often worked from home. Just as well because the state of his wellbeing made Dez suspect going out wasn’t in the cards for Adam today.
He’d made coffee and had yet to mop up a spill on the counter. The dried grounds also still sat there. As he prepared a couple of mugs for himself and Dez, his hand shook slightly, enough Dez wondered whether he should offer to help.
He held back. Last thing Adam would want was to be treated as frail. He’d already be embarrassed enough sharing his story from the weekend.
“I feel stupid talking about this,” he said. “I don’t even believe in ghosts. I mean, could be it was someone living, or I just hallucinated the whole thing.”