Almost Dead In Suburbia

by Douglas Pearce

  ‘It means I shouldn’t be such a smart-arse to my wife. More or less, anyway.’

  ‘I liked the way you coaxed her, what did you call it? Drive, that was it . . . straight down into the cup on the last hole. One shot.’

  ‘Hole in one,’ said Ralph.

  ‘Right. That was pretty nifty, I must say. I honestly thought her husband was going to eat that stick thing,’ said Hendrix.

  ‘Club,’ Ralph corrected.

  ‘Right,’ the cat acknowledged as they headed back to Emma’s.

  As the two companions walked through the back door, Fred was busy helping Emma set the table for dinner.

  ‘Thought you two had got lost,’ Emma remarked.

  ‘Ralph has spent the day teaching me the finer points of golf,’ the cat explained.

  ‘Not a game I have ever been particularly good at. Especially not for the past twenty years or so,’ Emma smiled.

  ‘Oh, believe me, you would have a pretty good game with Ralph on your side,’ Hendrix grinned.

  The atmosphere during the evening meal, although jovial, was somewhat strained. The time for last goodbyes was approaching. Too fast for Fred and Emma.

  When the meal was over Ralph and Hendrix offered to clear the table.

  ‘You two kids go and enjoy yourself. Ralph and I will sort this out. There’s a program on the television in a short while that I want to watch,’ said Hendrix.

  Ralph cocked an eyebrow.

  ‘I can read a TV guide, you know,’ Hendrix told him.

  ‘Oh, really? And what is this program about then?’

  ‘Man-eating lions, for your information.’

  18: Back to Wiggleswood

  A police car pulled up outside Emma’s house at exactly nine-thirty the following morning.

  One of the officers at the station had phoned ten minutes earlier to tell Emma it was on its way.

  The doorbell rang, almost politely. Emma opened it to a fresh-faced young constable.

  ‘Morning Madam, I’ll wait in the car. Sergeant Williams has given me all the details. Take as much time as you need.’

  Not all the details, I’m sure, Emma thought.

  She thanked the officer and turned to Fred who was standing by her side.

  Fred started to say something. Emma sensed a scene about to begin that she did not want to handle. She placed a finger gently on Fred’s lips.

  ‘Sssh. Don’t. I understand.’

  As much as it was tearing him apart to leave, he really needed to go. He gently wiped a tear from her eye, kissed her passionately then stepped through the open doorway onto the path. He forced himself not to look back as he walked towards the police car. One of the car’s back doors was already open.

  Emma turned towards the other two visitors and bid them farewell.

  ‘Will I see you again?’ she asked the cat.

  ‘Mmm. Never really thought about it. Now you mention it,

  well, you never know. Keep an eye out, Emma. I might even surprise myself. Take care,’ the cat finished, and skipped after Fred.

  Ralph simply squeezed her hand and kissed her lightly on the cheek. She smiled at the tingly sensation it left and gently touched the place where his lips had been.

  After Ralph and Hendrix had climbed into the back of the car, Fred shut the door and walked around to the passenger side.

  ‘I’d prefer to ride up front with you, if I may, officer?’

  ‘Certainly, sir, no problem,’ said the constable.

  The car pulled away from the kerb and headed south.

  Emma closed the door, went to the lounge, and cried. The boxer dog laid its head on her lap and whimpered. Drying her eyes, she looked down at the dog and laughed.

  ‘Yes, I know,’ she smiled fondly.

  *

  Within twenty minutes, the police car was pulling on to the M6 motorway.

  Four to five hours and they should be in Wiggleswood, Fred guesstimated.

  Conversation was limited to occasional remarks about how smoothly the M3 BMW drove, and the odd mention of the impending inclement weather. The officer explained why he preferred not to chat too much.

  ‘I’d rather concentrate on the road, sir. If you don’t mind?’

  Fred didn’t mind at all. The constable, whose name was Moss, was an excellent driver, and Fred admired the man’s discipline. He did a sterling job.

  The car accelerated to eighty miles per hour. The constable was obliged to flash his headlights at traffic in the fast lane on only a few occasions. Most drivers moved across as soon as they saw the police car looming up in their rear view mirror.

  It seemed Fred was considered a VIP. For today at least. Apparently, normal speed regulations were temporarily waived on such occasions.

  They stopped twice during the journey.

  ‘Just to stretch our legs, answer the call of nature, and have a cup of tea, sir,’ said Constable Moss.

  Fred acknowledged the gesture with a grateful smile. He felt sure the officer would have been able to drive all day without once having to stop.

  As the digital clock on the car’s dashboard silently moved past 15:00, the BMW pulled up outside Wiggleswood police station.

  The four occupants alighted and made their way up the steps.

  Bill Williams was there to greet them. He smiled as he shook hands with the driver, but the look he flashed Fred was uncertain.

  ‘Thanks for bringing him safely back, constable. How was the drive?’ Bill enquired.

  ‘No problems, Sergeant Williams. The prisoner behaved himself impeccably,’ Constable Moss grinned.

  Fred smiled back, adding ‘He even allowed me to ride without handcuffs for most of the way.’

  Bill was eager to dispense with the small talk and get his charge safely ensconced in his office. He turned to PC Griffith.

  ‘Sharon, see if you can rustle up a sandwich and a cup of tea for Constable Moss will you?’

  Moss was the most desirable thing Sharon Griffith had seen in a long time.

  Talent of the eligible male kind was very limited in Wiggleswood. When Constable Moss smiled at her across the charge desk, she almost swooned.

  When he spoke to her directly, offering to give her a hand with the tea, she had to use both hands to stop the cup she was holding from rattling in the saucer.

  ‘Jumping jaguars, what is it with humans?’ the cat asked.

  ‘What the hell are jumping jaguars?’ Ralph asked.

  ‘Learnt about jaguars on that TV program you didn’t want to watch, remember? The one about man-eating lions,’ said Hendrix.

  The two young constables were already deep in conversation.

  ‘Jumping jaguars,’ Ralph repeated, shaking his head.

  ‘Hey, you leave the jaguars alone. They’re cousins of mine, I’ll have you know!’ Hendrix admonished.

  ‘Cousins? You’re a flaming ghost, for goodness sake.’

  Fred grinned at the interplay.

  Bill appeared to be aware of something going on, but he did not allow it to register on his face.

  ‘Let’s go into my office shall we?’ he suggested.

  As soon as they were inside Bill said ‘Oh, by the way, Ralph?’ he looked at Fred.

  ‘He’s standing by the door, Bill,’ Fred informed him.

  Bill turned his head in that direction. ‘Your wife is at home. I haven’t told her of this meeting. I don’t really know what is supposed to happen after we have finished here. I am presuming that you do?’

  ‘The cat does. I’ll leave those details to him,’ said Ralph.

  ‘We’ll sort it out later, Bill,’ Fred explained.

  ‘Well then, where shall we start?’ Bill asked.

  Half an hour later a somewhat shell-shocked Sergeant Bill Williams leant back in his chair, blew out his cheeks, then whistled loudly.

  ‘That’s quite a story. It’s almost beyond belief,’ he said.

  ‘Tell me about it,’ Fred agreed. ‘Try to imagine how I feel.’


  ‘And me,’ Ralph added.

  ‘Ralph says him too!’

  ‘And the cat?’ Bill asked.

  ‘Has got a name, Mister Detective, and I’m sitting next to your right elbow. Within clawing distance I might add, so be careful when you refer to “the cat”, okay?’

  ‘The cat, who wants me to remind you his name is Hendrix, says he’s fine, thank you. He’s sitting by your right elbow,’ said Fred.

  Bill twitched involuntarily and looked at the blank space where Fred had indicated.

  ‘Oh,’ Bill expressed surprise and confusion. ‘I didn’t realise he was with us. I thought I heard a third voice while we were talking on the phone yesterday.’

  ‘You did, make no mistake. But it takes a heck of a lot of energy to make myself heard to a “solid” such as you. Right now I’m totally pooped,’ Hendrix explained. ‘And I haven’t even been offered a measly saucer of milk. What sort of place is this?’ he complained.

  ‘Hendrix says he’s very tired. He can’t always rustle up enough energy to make himself heard. It’s difficult,’ Fred explained. ‘He suggests that a saucer of milk might help, though.’

  ‘Oh, all right. Hold on a tick then, I’ll see what I can do.’ Bill buzzed the front desk.

  ‘If you can drag yourself away from Prince Charming for two minutes, PC Griffith, we could do with two cups of tea and a saucer of milk, please.’

  ‘Saucer of milk, sarge?’ Griffith queried.

  ‘Yes, constable. It’s one of those flattish things you put under a teacup, and milk is that white liquid in the fridge. Any problems?’

  ‘Er . . . no problems, sarge. Be there in a minute.’

  ‘Thank you, constable.’

  ‘You’ve explained how you figured out that Ralph was a ghost - sorry Ralph, I mean dead-not-really person - and about Hendrix, but how did you work out I was me, if you get my meaning?’ Fred asked.

  Bill was struggling with the notion of two other individuals being in the room, besides himself and Fred, especially as Fred did not look or sound like Fred.

  He continually found himself looking into empty space as Fred talked to either Ralph or Hendrix. It made him feel decidedly silly. And he was not a silly type of person. This was more like Finch territory. And where was PC Finch, come to think of it?

  Fred turned and looked directly at Bill, whose mind was beginning to wander even further.

  ‘Bill?’ Fred asked. ‘You all right?’

  ‘Oh, sorry, Fred.’

  ‘Disconcerting isn’t it?’ Fred sympathised.

  ‘Just a bit, yes,’ Bill agreed. ‘Anyway, after the doctor at the hospital told me you had upped and walked out without a mark, I was intrigued. That’s why we came by to see you. At that stage though, I thought it mostly just odd. But while one part of my brain was registering the face and body of Ralph, another part was registering Fred. It’s like now; if I focus on your eyes I know it’s you, Fred; but if I let myself focus on your voice and face I get totally confused. Well, it was the look in your eyes that stuck in my mind as we left your . . . sorry, Ralph’s house. Your eyes, and when you clicked your fingers and said ‘just like that’.’ Bill demonstrated the action. ‘Sort of a give-away, that was.’

  Fred smiled. ‘I didn’t realise I did that. Interesting.’

  ‘We all have our little idiosyncrasies. I’m a copper. I get paid to notice.’

  A knock at the door hailed the arrival of PC Griffith with the tea and, more importantly for some, a saucer of milk.

  ‘Ah, about time too,’ Hendrix remarked. ‘Put it down right here, good-looking.’

  PC Griffith placed the tray to Bill Williams’ left.

  ‘Be like that, then,’ Hendrix moaned and walked across the desk and began to lap.

  Some of the milk appeared to rise from the saucer of its own volition and disappear into thin air. Then the surface settled as Hendrix took a breather.

  Sharon Griffith’s expression was priceless.

  ‘Probably just a ground tremor, constable. Nothing to worry about,’ said Bill casually. PC Griffith backed out of the office several shades lighter than when she had entered, closing the door very quietly and very carefully.

  ‘That was not very smart!’ Ralph snapped.

  ‘I was parched. Stop moaning. I notice there are only two cups on the tray,’ said Hendrix with a smirk.

  As the last drop of milk floated away into apparent thin air, a dark-blue Volvo estate pulled into the station car park. Bill glanced out of his office window as the roof of the car went past.

  ‘Ah, a certain Mister Teddy Remback and family have arrived,’ Bill announced. ‘Quite a bit early,’ he added, looking at his watch, ‘but best I go and meet them.’

  An air of excitement immediately pervaded the atmosphere. Ralph roused himself from his position against the far wall. ‘Fred, ask Bill to hold on a moment, please,’ he said.

  Fred did as requested, placing a gently restraining hand on the policeman’s arm as he came around the table.

  ‘Hang on a minute, Bill. Ralph wants to ask something.’

  Bill looked towards the place where Fred had turned his head, and paused.

  ‘Ask Bill if I can speak to Michael alone for a few minutes. I’ll need you to be here as well, though, Fred. You will have to play me for appearances sake.’

  Fred asked, and Bill agreed.

  ‘I’ll take his parents into the interview room for a few minutes.’

  ‘Oh, and Fred, tell Bill I have no intention of pressing charges over the burglary. That is the other reason Michael’s here, I presume?’ Ralph asked.

  Fred looked very surprised, but repeated what Ralph had said.

  Bill smiled. ‘That’s right. He told his parents and they decided to get this all straightened out. How did you know? I only found out yesterday when his dad phoned.’

  ‘He hacked my computer,’ said Ralph. ‘Clever kid he is.’

  Fred relayed this to Bill who nodded.

  ‘Right then. Time to meet the, er, “Rembacks” ’ said Bill, with an awkward smile.

  As he left, Fred began to look decidedly nervous, wringing his hands in a fashion that suggested extreme stress.

  ‘Hey, take it easy, Fred,’ Ralph told him.

  The cat trotted across the desk and began nuzzling the distraught figure.

  ‘I’m sorry. I don’t think I will be able to cope with this,’ Fred looked down at his hands. They were beginning to shake.

  ‘You’ll be fine, Fred. Just relax.’

  It was the first time Ralph had ever been in Wiggleswood police station. He casually looked around Bill’s office. The room was utilitarian almost to the point of austerity. Aside from the desk and chairs, and a small pine bookshelf containing several nondescript-looking manuals, the only relief was a framed print hanging on the wall behind the desk.

  The picture depicted a scene of the building when it had been the coaching-inn. A team of exhausted-looking horses were being unhitched from the carriage as several stable-hands waited to the side with a fresh team. Two smiling passengers in early Victorian dress leant out of the carriage window waving at someone or something not in the scene. A black cat was curled up by the stable entrance. The resident rat-catcher, no doubt.

  ‘Relation of yours?’ Ralph asked Hendrix. He had noticed the cat studying the picture.

  ‘Wouldn’t know,’ Hendrix answered. ‘We all look the same to us,’ he said sardonically.

  Ralph smiled down at the cat, which was quick to add, ‘But we all smell different.’

  Ralph chuckled as the office door opened and Michael stepped inside.

  ‘Call me when you’re done, okay?’ Bill told the boy. He squeezed Michael’s shoulder reassuringly; then closed the door.

  Michael turned and looked sheepishly at Ralph and Hendrix. Ralph grinned at him across the room.

  ‘Mister Remback, I presume?’ said Ralph. He noticed Michael was sporting a bandage on his right hand.

  ‘Hello, Miste
r Fenwick. Hello, Kitty!’ Michael brightened as the cat arched its back and purred loudly in greeting. Michael turned to face the other Ralph Fenwick; the one that to most people actually looked like Ralph and not like Jacques Clouseau.

  ‘Hello, granddad,’ Michael whispered.

  Fred opened his arms and burst into tears. Michael went to his grandfather.

  Ah, group hug, thought Hendrix.

  He jumped lightly off the desk, ran across the room and began to rub himself up against Michael and Fred, purring loudly.

  After a few moments, they stopped crying and stood slightly apart. Fred pulled out a clean handkerchief from his pocket and wiped away Michael’s tears. Then he wiped away his own, and blew his nose. Michael improvised with his sleeve.

  ‘You can see me?’ Fred asked somewhat surprised. In spite of the Hendrix episode, he hadn’t expected it to be that simple.

  ‘Yes, granddad, of course,’ said Michael.

  ‘What do I look like?’ Fred asked. ‘As I’m in Ralph’s body, that is?’

  ‘Well . . .’ Michael paused, thinking of the right words. ‘A little fuzzy around the edges, mostly. I mean, I can see Mister Fenwick, but I can see you too. There’s more of you than Mister Fenwick. It’s a bit confusing.’

  ‘Fuzzy around the edges. I think I like that description. It’s rather apt, whether I was alive or --’ He stopped. ‘Michael?’

  ‘Yes, granddad?’ said Michael. His brown eyes were perfectly calm.

  ‘You know what happened to me. I mean before, that is?’

  ‘You had a heart attack and died,’ the boy answered matter-of-factly.

  Fred was a little taken aback. Then he smiled.

  ‘Children. It’s all so simple and uncomplicated for them.’

  ‘You gotta love ‘em, that’s for sure,’ said Hendrix.

  ‘Oh, boy!’ Michael was thrilled. ‘You can talk.’

  The cat decided to tolerate the kid. After all, he was only a kid.

  ‘Yep. A real live talking cat. Well, maybe not “live” as you lot understand it.’

  ‘My turn, if I may,’ said Ralph. ‘Come and sit down, Michael. ‘We need a little chat.’ Michael looked at his grandfather.

  ‘It’s all right, Michael, Ralph is not cross.’