The Grey Ghost

by Nicholas Cara

  “Patsy I don’t want to be some masked vigilante out here hunting down criminals. I like being a cop, walking the straight narrow with the law and all that stuff,” Joe replied.

  “I’m not saying go out there on your own in the dark, bud,” Patsy said trying to explain himself. “But I’m saying, when we are on the street what happens if say the Grey Ghost takes down a collar instead of Officer Joe Bevine? Word spreads in the right corners, and then these mooks might start whispering, you know, maybe taking a few more looks over their shoulder out here. Man, I tell you if we did it right just the thought of a Grey Ghost out here haunting these streets would scare half of these mooks home to momma.”

  Rubbing his chin in between his hands, Joe closed his eyes to ponder what Patsy was proposing. He had to admit, it wasn’t the worst idea. Who in the world would think it was possible that he and the Grey Ghost could be the same? But it meant one thing; if he traveled down that road, he wouldn’t be able to tell anyone, not Mom or Dad about the magic cloth. He’d have to hide it and lie to everyone about what he could do. They’d have to all believe he was still confined to his wheelchair for the deception to work. It pretty much erases any ideas of his old, normal life returning. The Grey Ghost would be running through the streets, but old useless Joe Bevine would still be wheeling around town.

  Huffing in disgust at that thought, Joe grunted before reaching for the door handle and exiting the car, “I’ll think about it. Let’s get some air.”

  “By the way bud what did you say the other night to Wiggy?” Patsy asked exiting the vehicle. “I remember hearing you say something about penny’s just after he threw that knife at you.”

  “Did I say that?” Joe responded mildly surprised. “I must’ve said quarterpenny. It’s a saying my commander back in the unit drilled into us. The old man Winston apparently had a slug stopped by an old coin he found during a march once. So whenever he would call out roll after action we started responding “quarterpenny” instead of “here”. It sort of became our unit’s motto kind of like saying still here even though I probably shouldn’t be.”

  “I guess some habits never go away,” Patsy remarked.

  “Yeah, I guess they don’t,” Joe smiled. “Also I guess I’m still not used to the idea of a knife flying through me as normal.”

  “Well keep in mind buddy, if that does start to become normal you are going to have to get a better look. That little mask you have was terrible,” Patsy commented changing the subject back to Joe’s duel identity.

  “What are you the fashion police now? What was wrong with it? Joe asked as he balanced against the car waiting for Patsy to pull his wheelchair out of the trunk.

  “It was so corny and way too small. If anyone who actually knows you saw you they would ask why is Joe dressed up like the Grey Ghost? I mean I took one look at you and the jig was up,” Patsy replied setting the chair on the sidewalk allowing Joe to sit down.

  As the duo made their way along their patrol Joe eventually looked up at his partner and asked, “OK Lauren Bacall, how would you design my look if you did it?”

  “First thing pal, you need a nice hat,” Patsy answered patting his bowler. “Something that matches your blue suit better than that…”

  “Not MY look you genius, my OTHER look,” Joe interrupted. “I can design it with a thought, anything I can think of. So if you were designing it what look would meet your lofty standards?”

  “Me? Hmmm… I don’t know. I like the hat and coat… maybe a mask across the bottom of your face. You know like the cowboys in those picture shows when they put their bandannas across their nose and mouth,” Patsy replied covering his lower face with his hand.

  “But those are the bad guys! I don’t want to dress up like a bad guy. Why don’t you have me wear a black hat and grow a pencil thin mustache that I can twirl and laugh?” Joe replied sarcastically.

  “Well maybe, but man I bet it would be a scary look,” Patsy said trying to think of a better idea.

  “Yeah but we don’t want to scare…” Joe started before he was interrupted by a woman’s loud scream.

  “HELP! SOMEBODY HELP PLEASE!”

  Both officers spun their heads to the alley they had just passed and made their way as quickly as they could. Peering down the alley they saw the origin of the screaming. At the end was a woman who appeared to be in her late 40’s caught in a game of tug-o-war with a teenager over her purse. Quickly making their way down the alley, the duo found their way blocked by a linked metal fence dividing the alley in two.

  “Stop, Police, step away from the lady!” Patsy hollered to the teenager.

  Now noticing the officers, the young man redoubled his effort to pry the purse from the woman’s grasp.

  “Let go old lady!” the teen yelled in frustration.

  “HELP! PLEASE!” the woman screamed again holding firm, but finally with one strong pull from the hoodlum she relented her bag falling backward onto the street.

  Gripping his prize the teen looked back up at the officers and smiled, laughing at them for being barred from intervening by the fence.

  “Better luck next time flat foots! Consider yourself lucky wheels. If that fence wasn’t there, I’d make you eat that chair!” the mugger said.

  Starring at the mugger as he started dancing away, Patsy simply said to Joe, “Get him…”

  Looking at the smug smile on the prancing thug, Joe reached into his pocket for the magic cloth and flatly replied, “Gladly…”

  Starting to feel the now familiar surge of energy course through him, Joe reached out his left hand and pointed his index finger at the retreating mugger, aiming with his extended thumb as a child would with an imaginary gun. Lining the mugger up in his imaginary sights, Joe tried to project the energy coursing through him just as he had done accidently to Patsy earlier. And with a now darker and deeper voice, the voice no longer that of Joe Bevine but that of the Grey Ghost, he repeated,

  “GLADLY…”

  “They hated the bandanna look! That poor lady thought I was attacking her when I tried to hand her purse back! She even took a swing at me!” Joe told Patsy as he looked down at the ripped out news article he was taping in his scrapbook back at the station.

  “Well lucky you then,” Patsy said with a shrug closing his book.

  “What?” Joe said quizzically.

  ‘Lucky you that apparently the little old ladies in Capstone City don’t have a better right hook than any of the punks out there!” Patsy laughed loudly.

  “Then maybe I should hire her instead of my two bum detectives I seem to always find sitting here instead being out there on the streets!” Captain Robinson yelled from his office only catching part of the conversation.

  “Just leaving captain!” Patsy yelled as he grabbed his hat and scrapbook and made way to the door.

  “Horns, REALLY?” Patsy rolled his eyes at his friend as he cut out the front-page headline. “What too much?” Joe asked looking up from his paper at his partner.

  “You’re supposed to be the Grey Ghost not the Grey Goblin,” Patsy whispered back.

  “Fine, no horns. Kate would’ve hated that anyway,” Joe said taking a large swig of his coffee pointing at the newspaper’s sketch.

  “How’s our little cryptologist doing anyway? I still can’t believe she talked the Captain into letting her take that journal home to keep working on it,” Patsy said.

  “Well it’s not really worth anything unless we know what it says. I honestly haven’t talked to her in days though. She comes out, eats, and then back to her room. I’ve never seen her so focused, and that’s saying something since we are talking about Kate,” Joe whistled

  “No capes…” Patsy flatly said to Joe as they patrolled the streets in their cruiser.

  “That’s what you took from the story, the fact the Grey Ghost had a cape? Patsy, I stood in front of a speeding car and let it go straight through me but was able to grab that little girl and ghost her straight out of the car with me! I
t had to be the neatest thing I’ve done yet all you worry about is my wardrobe!” Joe replied with a hint of anguish at his partner.

  “I’m not saying what you did wasn’t amazing Joseph, but just answer me this. With all of these powers, can you fly like a bird?” Patsy asked.

  “Well no…” Joe answered not knowing where Patsy was going with this.

  “OK. Are you going to carve large G’s into the backsides of crooks with a sword?” Patsy continued.

  “Buddy do you see a sword around here anywhere?” Joe said spreading his hands out motioning around the cruiser.

  “Then no capes….”

  “OK, boys listen up!” Captain Robinson announced cutting off the idle chatter as he walked into the early roll call a few days later. “This nut ball out there that is making the papers struck again last night.”

  “Nut ball Captain?” a voice from the back of the room asked.

  “Yes, the Grey Ghost character,” Robinson replied. “The papers are making a deal of this guy and I’m not happy about it. Neither is City Hall even though Editar probably owes his neck to this cook. Peck put together a decent sketch from what he could get from the perp sleeping off the beating he received last night after trying to knock over Brown’s Drug Store.”

  Copies of a hand-drawn sketch were passed around to the seated officers, many of whom started snickering as they saw the outlined drawing before one officer in the back spoke up.

  “Captain, what are we looking at here?” The young officer asked, “This is just a weirdo in a Halloween mask.”

  “That’s the best description Peck could get from the kid, which matches the ID from the owner of the drug store,” Robinson quickly replied. “Our vigilante stands between 6-0 and 6-1 feet tall and from reports usually wearing a dark gray trench coat and hat. The two witnesses both stated that the assailant was donning a dark almost black metal helmet under his hat.”

  “But Captain what about his face, it’s just blank here,” another officer asked.

  “Neither witnesses were able to produce a solid description of the face inside of the helmet. The perp, who I personally believe has lost his marbles, repeated ad nauseum that his assailant known only so far as the Grey Ghost did not have a human face and that this ugly helmet was completely empty except for a puff of white smoke,” the Captain answered, irritated by the laughter his explanation received. “OK settle down men, you have your assignments and this new sketch of our local looney toon. The precinct’s official policy is to arrest this nut on sight, Knight of the Round Table or not, so head out, be safe and do good work.”

  As most of the officers cleared out of the meeting room Patsy sat quietly next to Joe eyeing the sketch in his hand. The charcoal drawing showed the familiar dark fedora hat now surrounding a black-colored helmet covering both the sides and front of the Grey Ghost’s face with two side guards attached to a long front plate that traveled to a widow’s peak in the middle of the forehead. As the Captain had explained the interior of the helmet was filled with only a scribbled smoke leaving no trace of a human face looking out of the page.

  “So what do you think?” Joe whispered to his partner. “I got the idea yesterday when we were moving some of Kate’s dad’s stuff into the extra bedroom. Remember in his office there was that huge black-colored brass Greek helmet on his desk? Well right now it’s sitting on the dresser of our guest room. You have to see it buddy, scary as heck, with all of these huge feathers sticking out of the top; it’s just wild and I can tell you Mom hates the thing. I swear that kid last night almost wet himself when I walked up.”

  Patsy simply looked at the paper for a few seconds before he wordlessly looked back at Joe and stood up. Rolling after him, Joe followed his partner back to their desks before asking again, “Well? Come on man, Kate likes it.”

  With a coy wink Patsy smiled at his partner and whispered, “Boo.”

  “Word is getting out there about the G.G. on the street, Patsy. You were right, once these low-lifes start talking I’m going to grow to be 8 feet tall and will be able to juggle barbells, “Joe whispered.

  “And they don’t even know about that neat Ghost Gun trick of yours,” Patsy mumbled back.”

  “Don’t call it that. It’s not a Ghost Gun,” Joe shot back annoyed.

  “My hat it isn’t. Every time you do that ZAPPY thing of yours that flattened me last week you aim your pointer finger out like a kid playing cowboys and Indians. Then, before you know it, ‘ZAP!’ down goes the bum, therefore my kooky friend…Ghost GUN,” Patsy reasoned quietly.

  “It still blows my socks off that if I concentrate this power at someone it actually stuns them instead of ghosting them. But we are not going to start labeling things ‘Ghost’ stuff OK? There won’t be a Ghost car. You’re not the Ghost buddy. There isn’t a Ghost phone, got it?” Joe whispered back wheeling next to his desk.

  Before Patsy could respond, the phone on the desk began to ring.

  “Ha!, Ghost Phone!” Patsy laughed a bit too loud before he clamped a hand over his mouth and reached out for the receiver. Ignoring the crossed look directed his way from his partner, Patsy answered the phone, “Hello, Detective Thomas…Oh hey Katie, how….”

  Patsy’s question was cut off sharply by Kate on the other end of the call. Joe sat back and stared at his friend noticing the frown that had crossed Patsy’s face and the shifty looks he began shooting around the room as if looking for something. Finally, after about a minute, Patsy simply stated, “OK, sit tight. We’ll be right there,” and hung up the phone.

  Rising quickly from his chair; Patsy grabbed his hat, still scanning the office and motioning for Joe to follow him.

  “Patsy, what’s up with Kate…?” Joe started to question his friend until he noticed Patsy holding up his finger to his mouth silently hushing him. Slowly, Patsy touched his left ear and pointed up to the ceiling before turning and heading for the exit.

  Joe understood the implication from the motion and followed his partner out to their car without another word. Over the years of their partnership, they had used that signal multiple times indicating only one thing; something he thought he would never have to worry about in the hallowed halls of Police Plaza 1 -- it wasn’t safe to talk there. The walls had ears.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  When the two detectives made it back to the Bevine household they entered the guest bedroom where Kate had recently taken up to decipher the journal. To their surprise, the normally pristine room looked like a tornado had gone through it. Littering every wall were pages and pages of numbers with hand-written letters scribbled in red ink next to each. It seemed like a mathematician’s crazy nightmare or some nut’s impression of art.

  “I know it seems like chaos,” Kate barked from her writing desk while scribbling on a small pad. “But trust me guys, there’s method to all of the madness.”

  Joe looked at Kate slightly concerned. There was a fire in her tone she was unsuccessfully trying to mask, a flame that traveled even into the sounds of her writing that had turned unusually hard and jagged. It was as if she was trying to take it out on the pulp, purposely wounding the paper with each stroke.

  “Oh I believe you hon but man oh man,” Joe said looking around the room.

  Reaching out to take a closer look at one of the sheets, Kate yelled at him, “No touching!”

  Patsy entering behind Joe, wheeled Joe’s chair into the guestroom and shut the door behind them.

  “As much as I want to just blurt this all out, I probably should start at the beginning so it makes sense to you two. Jason was a geek, an absolute geek, but the kid was also brilliant. That’s the reason we even have this journal and the reason it’s taken me so long to decode it,” Kate started explaining after taking a deep breath to calm herself. “Do either of you know what this little marvel is?”

  Kate opened the mysterious black box she had retrieved days ago at the radio station and turned it to show the two detectives. Inside was a silver men’s wristwatch.
Joe noticed the black leather band tucked underneath the case of the watch and couldn’t miss the unusual dial adorning the timepiece. Behind the two hands of the watch was a stark black background contrasted by a light grey fingerprint centered in the middle of the dial. While admiring the timepiece both Joe and Patsy shook their heads indicating they had no idea what the watch was besides a peculiar-looking one.

  “This, my boys, is a Doctor Mystery Decoder Watch, a kid’s radio serial that WKNM plays at 3:30 p.m. daily. They cost a dollar if a young person writes down the Daily Doctor Mystery Clue down for ten consecutive days and sends them and his saved pennies to the station. Or you can get one by waving Patsy’s badge around saying it’s for police business,” Kate joked with a smirk.

  “And my fine detectives do you know what recently departed student of my father’s was an avid listener to this radio show, even to the point of blasting it in the lab while working on his assignments?” Kate continued to question the partners egging them on. They both knew she was talking about Jason.

  “Just before he left with Dad on the Greece expedition, he said something to me that I remembered when you mentioned the journal of numbers. He said, “Kate, I’m going to keep my findings between the good Doctor and myself.”

  “You mean your father?” Joe asked interrupting.

  “That’s what I thought at first too, but no, the silly guy didn’t mean Dad,” Kate answered. “Jason never called Dad, Doctor. He always called Dad, Professor, like most people. That silly guy meant he was going to keep his findings between Doctor Mystery and himself!”

  Joe and Patsy still looked at Kate confused. This revelation hadn’t cleared a single thing up for either of them. Seeing this, Kate took the watch out of the case and held it up to them showing its cover’s side. Seeing the watch’s side profile, Joe noticed that the watch actually was quite thick, almost double the thickness of a normal men’s wristwatch.