Dead and Hating It

by Edward Kendrick

  “At least your David didn’t murder you,” Kurt said angrily. Then he took a deep breath. “How about we get off the subject of men who aren’t in our lives and, umm…”

  “Hmm?”

  That’s when Kurt suggested they visit the theater, if being there didn’t bother Tonio.

  “It won’t. I go often enough, to see whatever the newest show is, and not only because David’s in it. I love the theater, capital ‘T’. Always have. Come on, let’s do it.”

  When they got there, Tonio took him to the wings beside the stage. There was a show in performance, a comedy from the reaction of the audience. Tonio pointed up to the bridge.

  “Damn, that’s a long way to fall,” Kurt said.

  “And not a soft landing, though I don’t remember it, thank God.” Tonio was talking to Kurt, but his gaze was on one of the actors. A good-looking blond man Kurt knew had to be David.

  “Maybe we should leave?”

  “Maybe,” Tonio replied with a sad smile. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen him, but I thought I could handle it. I usually do when I come to a show, but I watch from where I always did, the lighting booth. Being this close…” He sighed.

  “Come on. I’ll buy you a drink. Or not, I guess.”

  “It’s the thought that counts.”

  “We could still hit up a bar, if only to watch everyone and make scathing comments about how they’re acting.”

  Tonio chuckled. “Beats sitting around feeling sorry for ourselves.”

  They found a club not too far from the boarding house. Being a Tuesday evening, it wasn’t too crowded, so they were able to find a vantage point along one wall where they could see the bar and the dance floor. For a while, they did as Kurt had said, commenting on the various customers.

  Then, his curiosity getting the better of him, Kurt said, “I got the impression you and David spent time together, with Sage acting as the intermediary, but it’s not happening much anymore.”

  “It’s not. Mostly because David and Vern…Well, Vern doesn’t know I’m still around, obviously. It makes it hard for David to get away since they both work at the theater, as well as spending as much time as possible together when they aren’t there, if that makes sense.”

  “Yeah, it does.” Kurt touched Tonio’s arm to be certain he had his full attention. “Are you planning on letting go and moving on, now?”

  “I don’t know,” Tonio replied. “As strange as it seems, I have friends here. Brody and Jon, and Mike and Sage. What if, when we move on, we’re stuck somewhere we don’t want to be.”

  “Like Hell or Purgatory?”

  Tonio nodded. “Or wherever the dead end up, because who knows where that will be? Brody left, but from what they’ve told me, he came right back so he doesn’t know what’s beyond here.” He swept his arm around. “As far as I know, no one does, despite all the religious and other theories.”

  “And you’d rather not find out.”

  “Honestly, not really. Even without David, well, as I said, I do have friends, including you, I think.”

  “Definitely me, for as long as I’m here. Once Mike proves George murdered me that’s going to change.”

  “Until then, though, make the best you can of things.”

  “I’ll try.”

  * * * *

  “We thought you two had taken off to greener pastures,” Brody said when Tonio and Kurt appeared at the door to his and Jon’s room.

  “Nope. We went clubbing,” Tonio replied, straight-faced.

  “Without us? No fair,” Jon said, feigning a pout.

  “Next time,” Tonio promised.

  To Brody, Tonio looked, if not happy, at least happier than he had a few hours ago. Maybe he did unburden himself to Kurt, and it helped.

  “What did you do to kill the time?” Tonio asked.

  Jon grinned. “Took out zombies and skeletons on our way to the Big Bad.”

  “Again?” Tonio shook his head. “Aren’t you guys tired of that game yet?”

  “Which game,” Kurt asked. When Brody told him, he said, “Never heard of it.”

  “You’re a gamer?”

  Kurt shrugged. “I’ve been known to get hooked on a couple of them. Not that it’ll do me any good now, even if you have them.”

  “Give it time, Kurt.”

  “How much time? A week, a month, a damned year?” Kurt stormed out of the room, as much as that was possible for a new ghost still learning the ropes.

  “You’re feeling better, I think, and Kurt’s feeling worse,” Jon said to Tonio.

  “I know. Maybe we shouldn’t have gone to that bar, even though it was his idea. I think it really hit him how different his life is now from what it was before he died.”

  “It happens to all of us, in the beginning. At least he has us around to help him get used to it.” Brody looked pointedly at Tonio.

  Not being anyone’s fool, Tonio chuckled. “Are you trying to give me something to do to get me out of my funk?”

  “I think Kurt’s already done that, at least to some extent,” Brody replied. “Give him a few minutes to calm down then talk to him. Tell him how it was with you at first, and let him know it does get better.”

  Tonio sighed. “Yeah, I suppose it does, mostly.”

  Brody pointed a finger at him. “Don’t go there. You knew what could happen if you stayed. You can’t change things, as much as you’d like to, so take Kurt under your wing and help him get acclimated—more than I think you have already.”

  “Okay. I’ll try.”

  Tonio went down to Kurt’s room, and rapped on the door, asking, “Can I come in?”

  “See, that’s another thing I can’t do. Knock on someone’s door,” Kurt called out before telling him he could, which Tonio did, without opening the door.

  Kurt was sitting cross-legged on his bed, staring at the photos above his table. “Another thing I’ll never be able to do, take pictures.”

  “You don’t know that,” Tonio replied, perching beside him on the edge of the bed. “Once you’re able to pick up little things, you can move up to cameras.”

  “Which I don’t have, now. They’re…hell, probably in some near-new shop or on sale in eBay if the manager’s cleared out my apartment already.”

  “One way to find out,” Tonio told him. “You lead the way since I’ve never been there.”

  “You’re serious, aren’t you?”

  “Dead serious, pardon the pun, so get the lead out.”

  Kurt did, without arguing, much to Tonio’s relief. It only took a few minutes before they were in what had been Kurt’s apartment. He heaved a sigh of relief when he saw it was just as he’d left it.

  “Where are they?” Tonio asked.

  “In there, or they should be.” Kurt pointed to his desk. “In the bottom drawer.”

  “These are smaller than I expected,” Tonio commented when he found the cases and set them on the desk.

  “Because they’re digital.” He frowned. “I wonder why George didn’t take them, too?” Then he answered his own question. “Because he never let me photograph him. Anyway, that’s why they look small to you.”

  “I’ll take your word for it. The only thing I know about cameras is that there was one on my phone that did a pretty good job, as far as I was concerned.”

  “Good phone cameras can, but they’re nothing compared to a professional digital one.” Kurt looked wistfully at the cases.

  “Before we leave, since I’m the designated workhorse at the moment, is there anything else you want to take back?”

  Kurt shook his head. “Nothing I can’t live without.” He managed a smile. “Considering I’m not alive, that would be everything.”

  “Kurt, seriously. Is there anything?”

  He looked around. “Not really.”

  “Okay. Let’s go home.”

  “Wait a minute, how are you going to get those back without people wondering why there are camera cases floating twenty feet above them.�
�

  “In case you didn’t notice, it’s dark out. I think we’re safe. If not—” Tonio grinned, “—keep an eye open for a story about UFOs on the news tomorrow.”

  Kurt snorted. “I wonder if that’s the explanation for most of them. Ghosts carting things around.”

  “You never know.”

  “Feeling better?” Brody asked Kurt when he and Tonio arrived back at the boarding house.

  “Yeah. Of course now I’m going to be doubly frustrated because I can’t start taking pictures tomorrow. But at least having my cameras here gives me a definite goal.”

  “That’s what counts. We all need a goal of some kind.”

  “What’s yours?” Jon asked mischievously.

  “Finding us a better place to live, since we seem to be accumulating friends who need a place to stay.”

  “Well…damn.”

  Chapter 6

  “Yes, Gordon Norris,” Mike said. “According to the information I have, you were in charge of a case, four years ago, where the victim either fell or was pushed down a flight of stairs at his home. The victim’s home that is. The chief suspect in his death was Mr. Norris.”

  “That’s a while back, but I think I remember the case. Give me a couple of minutes to pull it up,” replied the detective Mike was talking to on the Birmingham police force.

  Three minutes later the detective was back. “Now I remember Norris. Slimy bastard, if you ask me. He admitted he and the victim had been close, but said that was it. Told us they’d separated a week before what he called an accident, blaming it on the victim’s drinking problem.”

  “Did he have one, and was there alcohol in his system?”

  “There was. The people we talked to, however, said he was a moderate drinker, if that. We brought Norris in for questioning but couldn’t break his alibi—that he’d been to a wedding reception at the time it happened.”

  “Were there witnesses who confirmed it?”

  “Yes, but you know how those things are. No one pays much attention to who’s there if they don’t know them well. Everyone’s focused on the happy couple. He could have left and come back without anyone being aware he was gone. Anyway, he left town within a day of our questioning him. Walked away from his apartment and his job despite our telling him he wasn’t to leave town.”

  “Who did he work for?”

  “A sales company. Let me find the name. Here you go. Q and Sons.”

  Mike made note of that then asked, “Do you have any photos of him?”

  “Only the one on his driver’s license and a promo one for the company he worked for. You want me to send them to you?”

  “If you would.”

  “Now it’s my turn. Why the interest in him?”

  “I’m working a case of a young man who drowned. At first we thought it was accidental or maybe suicide, because a friend of his said he’d just broken up with his boyfriend.” Mike wasn’t above telling a small lie when necessary if it was warranted. “We went to the boyfriend’s place, his name is George Neville, to talk with him but he was gone, and so were all his clothes and personal belongings. He wiped everything down, but we were still able to get prints he missed. They matched those on his driver’s license application. We ran them, and this is the kicker. According to AFIS they belong to your suspect, Gordon Norris, and to one Gerald Nivens who’s wanted in connection with a similar type of murder in New York.”

  “You’re shitting me. When did that one happen?”

  “About two years after yours, so you’re forgiven for not knowing about Nivens.”

  “Gee, thanks,” the detective replied sarcastically.

  Mike chuckled. “Any time. Could you send me everything you have on Norris, please, including the photos.”

  “Yeah. I’ll get it off to you as soon as we hang up.”

  “Thanks. If I have any more questions, I’ll give you a call.”

  As good as his word, the detective sent the info. What interested Mike the most at the moment were the two photos. While it was obvious Norris was also George Neville from the basic facial structure, that was it. Norris had black hair, worn long, brown eyes, and a trim mustache whereas George Neville’s hair was blond and very short, and his eyes, according to his driver’s license, were blue. Norris was five-eleven, again according to his license, while George’s said he was six-one. “But then, who actually checks unless the applicant looks a lot taller or shorter than they say they are,” Mike said under his breath. “The same with weights.”

  He put in a call to the detective in New York City who had handled the murder case involving Gerald Nivens, who might have pushed his boyfriend in front of a car to get rid of him. The officer he spoke with told him the detective was out on a case and he’d have him call back when he returned to the station house. That hadn’t happened by the time Mike left work at six.

  * * * *

  “We have company,” Sage told Mike when all four ghosts appeared in their living room.

  “Sorry to barge in, but I wanted to know if Mike’s found out anything,” Kurt told Sage.

  “And we came along for moral support,” Brody added. “And because he’s never been here so of course we had to escort him.”

  “Uh-huh. That’s your story and you’re sticking to it.” Sage told Mike what they’d said, to which Mike replied, “I was going to call you, Brody, to ask you to bring Kurt over. You beat me to it. Settle somewhere, guys, and I fill you in on what I’ve learned so far. You’re probably not going to like this, Kurt, although at this point I’ve got the feeling it won’t come as a big surprise. The man you knew as George Neville has at least two other aliases, Gordon Norris and Gerald Nivens. As Norris, he’s suspected of killing his lover by pushing him down a flight of stairs. That happened four years ago. Two years ago, Gerald Nivens’s boyfriend ended up in front of a speeding car. Obviously, he didn’t survive.”

  “Not very creative with the names he chooses,” Brody said.

  Mike agreed, when Sage relayed his words. “However, it saves him from having to get rid of anything with his initials on it, I suspect. That’s the usual reason people who have aliases give. And it’s easier to remember a new name if at least the initials are the same.”

  “So I’m not the first person he’s murdered,” Kurt said. “Does that mean he’s a serial killer?”

  “Three murders puts him in that category,” Mike replied after Sage told him what Kurt had asked. “For all we know, there may have been more. With the way he does it, most of the deaths would have been treated the same way yours was, Kurt, as accidental or a suicide. If George, we’ll stick with that for now, hadn’t gone on the run right after he was interviewed by the police in the earlier cases, they and the coroner would probably have settled on calling them accidental.”

  “Like you would have with mine, if you hadn’t been with Mike when he came to my apartment,” Kurt said to Sage.

  “Yeah, my being there with him changed everything,” Sage replied. He decided Mike would know what they were talking about so didn’t bother to pass on what Kurt had said.

  Obviously he was right, because Mike said, “It did,” before continuing with what he was telling Kurt. “There was a witness when the one victim was hit by the car. He gave the detectives a very sketchy description of a man standing right behind the victim at the time. According to the report, it could have been George. He claimed to have an alibi, but before it could be confirmed he took off. In the first two cases, George did the same as here, left everything behind except his clothes and personal items.”

  Mike went to his desk to get the copy of Norris’s driver’s license from his briefcase, handing it to Sage, who showed it to Kurt.

  “It could be George, I think,” Kurt said. “The details are wrong, like the eye color, but the nose and mouth. Yes, it’s him. Damn.” He smiled weakly. “Does that mean I go down in the annals of crime as the victim of…What would the newspapers call him?”

  “The Hit-and-Run Killer, bec
ause he hits, then disappears,” Jon replied.

  “Or the Accident Killer, since that’s what the murders are supposed to look like,” Tonio suggested.

  “The Killer of Love,” Brody said.

  Kurt sighed. “He sure did that. What did he look like as, umm, Nivens?”

  Sage relayed what everyone was saying, getting a brief, amused smile from Mike before he said, “I should find out in the morning, Kurt. I have a call in to the detective on that case. Obviously, the detective handling the stairway case—let’s call it that to keep them separated—didn’t make a connection between it and the car one because there was no match to the fingerprints when he searched the AFIS database.”

  “It will be interesting to see if the car detective made the connection. If he did, I’m surprised he didn’t check in with the stairway detective,” Sage said.

  “Apparently he didn’t, since he said he didn’t know about it. I’d spend time looking for similar deaths that were put down as accidents if there weren’t at least a dozen of them in any given week.”

  “How are you going to find him?” Kurt wanted to know.

  Sage relayed what he asked and Mike replied, “To be honest, that’s a good question. He seems to move around the country, so he could be anywhere by now. I’ll enter all the information I have into the FBI’s NCIC database, but it won’t do much good unless another police detective is searching for someone who has committed the same type of crime in his jurisdiction, and by then it will be too late. George will have moved on, again. I’ll also ask a judge to issue a warrant for his arrest, and enter it into the NCIC warrant search database. Unfortunately, even when I’ve done both those things, it’s still a crapshoot.”

  “Do we know he’s left town?” Brody asked, and Sage repeated.

  “Of course not, though it does seem to be his pattern,” Mike replied. “Even if he hasn’t, the chances that he’s wandering around, looking for his next victim, are slim to none, even if he thinks no one can connect him to Kurt. He did his best to make certain that wouldn’t happen.”

  “Still, shouldn’t you issue a BOLO on him?” Sage asked.

  “I have,” Mike replied tartly. “I do know my job.”