Gray's Ghosts

by Carey Lewis

  They pulled into the tiny lot, a few rental cars out front, and parked. They went inside and Brooke told the lady behind the counter in her blue blazer they had a rental from Rounders Rides that was in someone else’s name but they now wanted it. The lady told them they needed to sign a new contract and had to phone Jeff, didn’t seem to understand the network was paying for it.

  Deacon couldn’t concentrate so he went outside to smoke. He was so hung up on the easy solution - pay Cesar and have this done with. That’s all he was thinking about. That and going to jail. Those weren’t options for him. That’s what he was hung up on, things he couldn’t do. Now he was thinking about things he could do, things he had available.

  Forty-five minutes later Brooke came out. “Marty called the wrong one. She called the one in Myrtle Beach so they had to call over there to find out what the fuck was going on. Then they had to call Jeff. Then I had to call Dave and get this shit sorted with him. He asks me what we’re still doing here. I’m on the phone with him, Jeff starts calling me asking about the Town Car. Jesus Wept,” she said, lighting a cigarette. “Then they had to phone Dave.”

  She leaned against the SUV and let out a long breath, her arms crossed on her chest, the cigarette dangling from her fingers.

  “I would’ve went to the one further away to save the hassle. We return this, that’s where we’re going. Why would you choose this place?”

  “You look at the Marshal’s card?”

  She stared at him, waiting for him to go on. He pulled out the card and showed it to her.

  “The Marshal’s are here,” she said.

  “Ten minutes away.”

  They were back in the SUV going down the winding road, away from the airport. Brooke said, “I didn’t think you wanted to talk to the Marshals.”

  “I don’t. But we phone him and ask if he’s a Marshal we got to take his word for it. We just go in and ask if they ever heard of Carter Grant, we got our answer.”

  “Just walk in and say, By any chance, is this guy a Marshal?”

  “Pretty much,” he said, looking at her and smiling.

  Brooke parked the car at a coffee shop and they walked down West Evans Street, coming up to the large gray building surrounded by a black metal fence and nice lawn. They opened the gate, went up the front steps and went inside the typical looking government building. They followed the signs, went through the large hallways until they got to the glass doors that said United State Marshals.

  “You sure you want to do this?” Brooke asked.

  “They’ll just say ‘Who’s that?’ because they never heard of him.”

  Deacon opened the door to the mostly empty room of desks and phones ringing. There were a couple of rooms near the back, separated by glass.

  A young guy was speaking on the phone, his feet up on his desk. He looked over at them and hung up, making his way over. Deacon looked at the star worn around his neck and the gun in a shoulder holster. “What can I do you for?” he asked them.

  “We’re looking for US Marshal Carter Grant,” Deacon said. He felt stupid, not knowing how to address them.

  “Well I’m Deputy US Marshal Carter Grant, maybe I can help you,” he said, smiling, his hands on his hips. “You want the Marshal you got to head over to Columbus but he goes by the name Kelvin Washington.”

  “WE SHOULD’VE JUST PHONED,” BROOKE said, more to Deacon than the Marshal. They were sitting in front of his desk, some paperwork on it, pictures of old Marshals in black and white behind US Deputy Marshal Carter Grant on the wall behind him.

  “You’re here now,” he said, taking a seat. He moved the mouse around on his desk and the computer screen went black. Deacon could feel himself frozen, trying to come up with a solution. He thought Brooke was right, there wouldn’t be a US Marshal Carter Grant. There still wasn’t, it was Deputy US Marshal. He watched Carter lean forward, putting his elbows on the desk, his hands clasped in front of him, wondering why they asked for him.

  “You were referred to us,” Deacon said. He felt Brooke look sideways at him, sitting in the chair. “We have a show on Spooky TV called Gray’s Ghosts.” He decided to test the waters. If it was the same Carter Grant that was asking about them, he’d know who they were.

  “That a reality show?”

  “Yeah. We go around the country looking at houses supposed to be haunted.”

  “That’s why I never heard of it. Don’t watch reality TV. You said Spooky TV?”

  Deacon nodded. He had no idea what was going on.

  “So many channels now I can’t keep up. Easier for me to turn it off than look through them all.”

  “We were just shooting the show down in Rounders Bend.”

  “Passed through a couple times,” Carter said. “Go to the airport or the beach.”

  “It’s a nice beach,” Brooke said. She looked at Deacon, both on the same page. It was a different Carter Grant that was looking for them.

  Deacon looked at her, then back to Carter. “Not much to it,” he said. “We were shooting there, our boss says he sends us here to find another house that might be haunted.”

  “Was it haunted? The one you were just at?”

  “No, that’s why our boss is sending us out again, thinks it’s a waste of money sending us down here if we don’t find a house we can say might be haunted.”

  “You’re thinking I might know of some?”

  “It’s what the guy told us. You guys go out doing the asset forfeiture and stuff, said you probably came across a few might be questionable.”

  Carter leaned back in his chair, looking back and forth between them, fiddling with a stress ball he picked up from his desk. “Who’d you say told you to come see me?”

  Deacon looked at Brooke. “You get the guys name?”

  “That guy in the diner right? The one, what was it called?” Brooke shut her eyes tight, pretending to remember.

  Deacon looked to Carter. “We’re all over the place, it’s hard to remember anything.” Deacon smiled.

  “It’s just not everyday someone in a diner tells you to go see the Marshals for a haunted house.”

  “That’s what we said.” Deacon put a smile on his face, moving his arm slightly to Brooke. “Sounded crazy enough to be true.”

  “It’s not a common thing we do, the houses,” Carter said. “We get some cars, trailer homes, but houses?” He looked at them again. “Like I said, I’ve never been to Rounders, maybe to stop for gas. You say there’s a guy in a diner told you about me? By name?”

  Deacon nodded. He felt it was the only thing he could do.

  Now Carter was nodding. “How much longer you want to keep up this bullshit?”

  “I don’t understand,” Brooke said.

  “You’re here for a reason, not the one you’re giving. I’m not in the habit of going out and finding work, that’s why I got the job here. There’s plenty to do they already pay me for.”

  Deacon and Brooke were silent, staring back at him. Deacon felt his heart beating that much faster.

  Carter leaned forward. “You’re in trouble, you’d be more likely to go to the local cops. It’s not every day random folk from TV come into a Marshal’s office. Even more random that you’d ask for one by name. You want to stop trying to be clever now? Doesn’t seem to suit you.”

  “We had to settle our rental at the airport here. Decided since we’re close we’d come and look into our lead,” Deacon said.

  “A guy in a diner you can’t remember telling you I know something about haunted houses.”

  “Say it like that it sounds like a spy movie.”

  “Doesn’t add up does it?” Carter asked with a smile. “I’m going to tell you something you already know. I don’t think you’re here for a haunted house.”

  “We thought you could take us around—” Brooke said but was cut off when Carter put up his hand.

  “Please. Now I am curious as to why you’re here, but not curious enough to go and find out. If you’re in tr
ouble you’re going to have to tell me. You got yourself mixed up in something maybe I can help you out.”

  Deacon smiled. “I wish our lives were that interesting.”

  Carter leaned back again. “Okay. If we’re still doing the houses bullshit I can’t help you.”

  Deacon nodded and stood up. “Knew it was a long shot but thanks for your time.”

  “Take a card if you want,” Carter said, pointing to the business cards in the case on his desk. “If you decide you got another thing for me to do.” He didn’t get up as Deacon and Brooke walked out.

  “So that was stupid,” Brooke said when they got outside, going through the gate and walking down the sidewalk toward the coffee shop where they parked.

  “We got our answer,” Deacon said. He was looking at the card he got from Carter.

  “Did we? The only answer I got is he’s not telling us what he was doing in Rounders Bend. That probably means he’s got us mixed up in it.”

  “You think he’s the same one who went and saw Jeff?”

  “You don’t? They got the same name. He exists.”

  “I think you were right the first time. Look.”

  Brooke turned and looked at Deacon who stopped walking. “What am I looking at?” He was holding a card in each hand.

  “This is the card I got just now and this is the card we got from Jeff. Notice anything?”

  Brooke looked at the cards. “They’re different phone numbers.”

  “Think you were right. The one I just got also says Deputy Marshal and the one from Jeff just says Marshal. Our guy is playing make-believe.” Deacon put the cards back into his pocket and started walking again.

  Deacon took out his phone and made a call.

  “I’m doing everything I can here Deacon. It’s going to take some time,” Harvey said as soon as he answered.

  “Can it wait a few days?” Deacon asked.

  “It’s got no choice but to wait a few days.”

  “Good. How soon you think you can come to South Carolina?”

  He looked over at Brooke. “You sure you want to do this?” she asked.

  “Got a better idea?”

  HUEY’S MIND WAS ON AUTOPILOT as he drove the Town Car back to Cesar’s house. He pulled into the drive and shut the car off, staring out the windshield for awhile, enjoying the silence. He heard the dogs barking from inside the house and realized he didn’t even turn the stereo on while he drove. He turned his head to the house, to the barking. He imagined them inside, the Rottweiler and the German Shepherd, scratching at the door, barking, wanting to know what was beyond the wall for them.

  Or maybe they expected to see Cesar walk through the door, that’s how excited they were to see him. Shit, they were even excited to see Hector. The dogs pretty much ignored Huey every time he came by. He always felt the need to remind them they met before. “Hey buddy, remember me? Yeah, I’m Huey,” he’d say.

  He got out of the car and walked down the drive, toward the screen door. He stopped and listened, hearing them inside. There was a hint of pain in their barks he never noticed before. They didn’t want something, they needed something. Something that was painful for them not to have.

  Huey walked around the corner, into the yard, still hearing the dogs. Maybe they heard the footsteps, that’s why their barks became more painful, more frantic. He walked along the worn path through the grass that remained and stepped into the bushes of the tree line. He veered off to the left, seeing the ax marks in the bark of the trees, going through the shrubs, coming to the one he was looking for.

  There was a hole in the tree from a branch that fell long ago, like the tree knew it was dead so it got rid of the limb itself. He reached inside and felt around until he found the cloth sack. He pulled it out and looked inside. Two guns - the one he used and the one Deacon used. What got him curious was there were supposed to be three guns in there. The one Hector used was missing.

  He closed the sack and walked back out of the trees, through the yard, coming up to the door where he couldn’t believe the barking was more frantic. The door was shaking from the dogs throwing their bodies against it. After a quick glance, he got back in the Town Car and made his way back to Motley’s. The house that was quickly becoming a mausoleum.

  This time he made it a point to turn on the radio, trying to replace the barking dogs in his head, the sounds of them trying to bust down the door to get out. Not that he was paying attention. He couldn’t even tell what station was on or the type of music. Other than when a phone rang, he wasn’t completely aware he was driving.

  He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone to discover it wasn’t ring at all. But he did have a message waiting for him.

  “You think you’re cute hanging up on me, treating me like shit huh? Know what else is cute? Being fucking fired. Yeah Huey, you’re gone. You’re so fucking gone. Bring my car back or I’m calling the cops. Don’t think I’m joking this time fuck-wad because I’m so over your shit. If it’s not in the lot by tomorrow morning when I get in, I’m calling the cops. See how fucking cool you are then,” and then the message ended because Jeff hung up.

  Huey didn’t remember Jeff calling him this morning. He didn’t remember anything, had to remind himself he was driving Jeff’s Town Car and where he was going.

  He pulled the car into the dirt road and took it down to Motley’s house. He parked and got out, saw Hector standing there in the doorway. He stepped aside to let Huey in and now he saw Cesar standing in the hall, in front of the living room.

  “Got them?”

  Huey walked down the hall and passed the bag to Cesar. He turned his head to see two more bodies in the living room. He smiled seeing Javier and Luis laying on the floor, their eyes wide. He wished he would’ve done it himself.

  Cesar looked in the bag, then back to Huey. “Where’s the other one?”

  Huey kept his eyes on the floor and gestured with an arm behind him to Hector. “He didn’t put his back.”

  Now Cesar was looking past Huey to Hector.

  “I have a gun and I’m not trying anything, who’s side you think I’m on?” Hector said.

  Cesar’s attention went back to Huey. “This from the spics,” he said, dropping a Glock into the sack. “Make sure you put it back yeah?”

  Huey nodded and made his way back down the hall.

  “You’re Spanish you know?” Hector said.

  “I’m American,” Cesar said.

  “You’re both.

  “That’s the way they got you thinking huh?”

  Cesar had the other Glock in his hand, keeping it pointed near Hector but not at him. That’s the way Huey left them when he got back into the Town Car and drove off.

  The next thing he knew, he was in the parking lot for Rounders Rides. That’s when he noticed the sack with the gun in it he forgot to put back in the tree. He was too preoccupied with Jeff saying he was going to call the cops. He couldn’t have the cops coming around, not now, not after everything. He guessed that’s why his mind told him to come here without him noticing.

  He got out and put the Glock in his pants, went inside to throw the keys at Jeff’s fat face. And that’s exactly what he did. While Jeff was in mid-fat-sentence the keys bounced off his fat cheek and Huey left his fat business.

  While he was walking home, Huey didn’t even notice the Honda Accord pull up beside him. Didn’t even notice the person inside was calling him until the horn honked.

  “How long you been doing that?” Huey asked.

  “Longer than I thought it would take. You want a ride?”

  Huey looked around, realized where he was. “Where?”

  “Where you want to go?” Carter the bail bondsman asked.

  “Home.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  “WHAT YOU WANT TO TELL me?”

  “That you’re stupid. Bordering on retard.”

  “You stop yourself but you’re itching to say the rest.”

  “What you think’s goi
ng to happen now?” Hector asked. He watched the smile grow on Cesar’s face. Still had that Glock in his hand, the elbow crooked at his waist, not pointing it at him.

  “We set the guns in their hands. They get found, we get asked, ‘Yeah sure, we had a meeting with Pablo. Said he was seeing Motley about some dope they was going to run. We didn’t want any part of it.’ All our problems are gone.”

  “Like a movie.”

  “Movies get it from somewhere. I’m giving you the option to hand over your piece.”

  “I’ll do it slow so not to give you the wrong idea,” Hector said. He kept his eyes on Cesar, moved his arm out to the side slowly, reached behind his back and took the butt of the pistol between his thumb and finger. “You know I pack if you want to ask why I didn’t hand it over.”

  “No reason for that now,” Cesar said, slowly making his way to Hector, the Glock pointed at him now.

  “More reason now you want to ask me.”

  Cesar slowly reached out and took the gun out of Hector’s hand and started backing up. He still pointed the Glock at him. “This the part that’s itching you huh?”

  “They got friends. Friends that’ll come looking for them. I’m thinking that’s a thing you ain’t think about yet. You too busy thinking about the cops you ain’t think about that.”

  “I doubt that’s going to happen.”

  “Love to hear the logic.”

  Cesar went into the living room. He walked over to Motley and put Hector’s gun on the floor. Then he took the Colt out of his pants, wiped it down with the dish rag and placed it in Motley’s hand, wrapping the finger around the trigger. Hector watched from the doorway.

  “You get the impression Pablo answered to anybody?” Cesar asked, picking up Hector’s gun and standing upright. “Man who don’t answer to nobody not going to have people come looking for him.” He took a few steps and crouched beside Javier and Luis. He put the Glock down and got Deacon’s gun out of his pants, wiping them down before positioning them in Luis and Javier’s hands. Hector was surprised the guns didn’t slide down his pants and fall to the floor.

  “Everybody answers to somebody.”