Kindred Spirits

by Jean Marie Bauhaus

  “Okay. So as I understand it,” she said, moving around the couch to stand next to Jimmy, and not at all to put a safe barrier between herself and Derek, “Jimmy can’t leave until he knows you’ll be okay.”

  Derek also got to his feet. “I’m fine. I promise.”

  “You think I can’t tell that you’re not?” asked Jimmy. His shoulders slumped in defeat, Derek looked down at the box. “What’s it going to take to convince you I’m okay?”

  Jimmy looked at Chris. Leaning on the back of the sofa, she leveled her gaze at Derek. “What will it take to make you okay?” He opened his mouth to answer, but she held up a finger to stop him. “Be honest.”

  He closed his mouth and looked at her in frustration, but then he seemed to really think it over while they waited. After a long moment he said, “I need to see justice.” He glanced at the box, then looked at Chris. “I need to know who killed my brother, and that they didn’t get away with it.”

  Chris straightened and stared at him. “Is that all?” Derek just blew out a little puff of air, signifying that he knew it was a tall order. “Well then.” She shoved her hands in her pockets. “I guess we’ve got a murder to solve.”

  “Yeah, good luck with that. I’ve been trying to do that since I graduated journalism school. The police sure haven’t been any help.”

  “Yeah, well, you and the police don’t have what I have.”

  “What’s that?”

  She smiled. “My secret weapon.”

  “Are you ready?”

  Ron and Joe stood on the front porch, where Joe took his time savoring the view. He’d been on the porch before but his new awareness that he could go beyond it apparently made this visit extra special. Finally, he tore his gaze away from the street. “I am, but you might want to wipe that smug look off your face before we go.”

  Ron felt her jaw drop in disbelief. “What smug look?”

  “The one you’ve been sporting ever since Chris asked for your help.”

  She realized she was grinning and forced a sober expression onto her face. A moment later, she was smiling again. “Okay, maybe I’m feeling a little satisfied. Can you blame me?”

  He gave her a stern look, but the wrinkles around his eyes betrayed his amusement. “This is serious business. What we’re about to put this boy through isn’t something that ought to be greeted with a smile.”

  That got her to sober up for real. “Well, he’s waiting for us. We should go get this over with.”

  Joe nodded and took her outstretched hand. In an instant, they both stood in the middle of Derek’s living room, where a light had been left on for them.

  “Well, how ‘bout that.” Joe looked around. “This looks like a right comfortable abode.”

  “Who’s he?” asked a voice from behind them. They both turned to see Jimmy seated on a footstool next to the coffee table.

  “This is Joe,” Ron told him. “He’s here to help.”

  Jimmy got up and came over to them, appearing to size Joe up on the way and not bothering to be subtle about it. Of course, Ron reminded herself, subtlety was pretty much a lost art among seventeen-year-old boys. As if to prove her right on that point, he asked unabashedly, “Is he your boyfriend or something?”

  “I’m her fella,” Joe affirmed, moving closer to Ron and settling a hand on the small of her back. She resisted the urge to roll her eyes at the old-fashioned territorial display.

  “That’s cool,” said Jimmy, seeming to take the hint. “I mean, I didn’t know people like us could…you know.”

  Joe raised an eyebrow. “Have good, clean fun together?” This time, Ron did roll her eyes as she thumped him on the chest.

  “Date,” Jimmy clarified. “I kinda figured once you died, that was the end of romance.” He sighed, and Ron wondered how many young hearts were broken when he died.

  “I guess it depends on the circumstances,” she said softly. “Anyway,” she said, putting more command into her voice to steer them in the right direction, “that’s not something you’ll need to worry about once we solve your murder. So, let’s get down to it.”

  “Okay, sure. So, I guess you want me to tell you about what happened that night.”

  “Actually,” said Joe, “we were hoping you could show us.”

  Jimmy looked up at him. “What, you mean like a reenactment?”

  “More like a vision,” said Ron. At his confused look, she explained, “It’s another untapped ability we’re going to help you tap into.”

  “What, having visions?”

  “Projecting them, actually. I know it sounds weird, but during my first few weeks of deceased…-ness, other ghosts were projecting grizzly visions on me left and right.” She jerked a thumb toward Joe. “Including this guy. So he can show you how.”

  “What? I can?” Joe looked at her in surprise.

  “What do you think I brought you for?”

  “Moral support?” At the look she gave him, he sighed. “I don’t actually know how I did that. It just sort of happened.”

  “Well, something had to trigger it. Think. What was going on in your head when it happened?”

  His brow furrowed, and his mouth drew into a thin line. “Hard to say. I know I was desperate. Angry. Scared. And everything that happened was still fresh, thanks to Sarah. Forgetting it all was never an option.” He looked sorrowfully at Jimmy. “You’ll have to relive that night, what happened to you. Can you do that?”

  “I guess.” He sounded uncertain. With more conviction he said, “If it’ll help Derek put it all behind him, then yeah. I’ll do it.”

  “Okay,” said Ron. “Let’s try this. Close your eyes, and picture that night. How the room looked, what you and Derek were both doing. Think about how you felt when they broke in.”

  “I was confused at first. Then scared. Then angry.”

  “Don’t tell us. Feel it.”

  Jimmy nodded and closed his eyes. They waited.

  And waited.

  After a few minutes, Ron was about to call it a bust when suddenly, the room transformed. It was no longer Derek’s leather and chrome bachelor pad but a suburban family home straight out of a 1990s-era sitcom. Jimmy and a young, gangly kid who looked a lot like Derek sat on a yellow brocade sofa watching Jeopardy! on a console TV. A bowl of popcorn sat between them, and they took turns eating from it as they tried to beat each other at shouting out the correct questions.

  And then a loud pounding came from the front door. Two men dressed in black came crashing through.

  Both boys jumped to their feet. “Derek, go to your room!” Jimmy shouted. Young Derek did as he was told and disappeared down the hall as Jimmy moved between him and the two goons. They shouted at Jimmy to get on his knees, and he complied, holding his hands out in a placating gesture as he did. “Just take what you want and leave us alone.”

  “Shut up!” said the larger of the two men. He hit Jimmy in the face, hard. Ron winced at the sight of it, resisting the urge to tell Jimmy to stop.

  The guy hit him again, in the stomach this time. As Jimmy doubled over, the goon’s partner joined in, kicking him in the ribs, but his kicks seemed feeble, as if his heart wasn’t in it. They soon had Jimmy laid out on the floor, moaning and clutching his ribs, trying but failing to block their blows.

  The assailants, dressed in black from head to toe, both wore ski masks that hid their faces. The one doing all the yelling and most of the hitting and kicking was big—much bigger than Jimmy, who wasn’t exactly small for his age—and his voice was deep and angry.

  The accomplice wasn’t much taller than Young Derek and looked about as skinny. He stopped kicking and stood back. “Come on, Ke—” he started to say, his voice higher and shaky with fear.

  He was cut off as the big one wheeled around and shouted, “Shut up! Do not say my name, you idiot!”

  “You don’t need to beat him senseless,” he said, and then stopped talking as Derek emerged from he hallway. With shaking hands, he held a large revolve
r, which he pointed at the big man.

  “L-leave my brother alone! Get out of my house!”

  “Just shoot ‘em, Derek!” Jimmy’s words came out slurred. Derek froze, looking for all the world like a young deer caught in headlights. In that moment, the big one lunged at him and snatched the gun out of his hands. The guy let out a laugh as he looked at the gun, then reached out and tousled Derek’s hair, as if they were playing a game. Then he pistol whipped the kid with the butt of the gun.

  In spite of his injuries, Jimmy struggled to his knees. “You son of a—” he shouted as he tried to get his feet under him. Somehow, he found the strength to lunge just as the gun fired. Jimmy dropped lifelessly to the floor.

  All around them, the room returned to normal. The men and Young Derek vanished. Jimmy still lay on the floor, looking conscious but dazed. Joe knelt beside him. “Take it easy, son,” he said as he helped him sit up.

  Jimmy looked from Joe to Ron. Then he closed his eyes and rubbed his chest where the bullet had struck. “Not gonna lie,” he said, his voice raw. “That sucked.”

  “Tell me about it.” Joe helped Jimmy to his feet. “Steady now.”

  “Are you okay?” asked Ron.

  Jimmy shot her a look. “I’m dead.”

  “Right. But other than that?”

  He sighed. “I’m fine. You don’t look so great, though.”

  Her mouth grew tight as she folded her arms. “Yeah, well, watching kids get beaten and murdered isn’t really my favorite pastime.” And yet it happens surprisingly often. She kept that thought to herself.

  “Did we get what we need?” asked Joe.

  “I don’t know. Jimmy, did you notice anything familiar about those guys? Anything at all?”

  “No. But I was kind of distracted with getting pummeled.” He closed his eyes and rubbed his face wearily, but then he paused mid-rub. “But now that you mention it, yeah. One of the voices did sound kind of familiar. The skinny guy. I can’t quite place the voice, though.” He looked from Ron to Joe and back again. “You think it was someone I know?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe. I mean, they didn’t take anything. It seemed like they just wanted to beat you.”

  “That was the impression I got,” said Joe.

  “Why would somebody do that?” Jimmy asked.

  “I don’t know,” said Ron. “Did you have any enemies? Someone your parents or Derek didn’t know about, so they couldn’t tell the police?”

  “No. I mean, I guess I was kind of popular, being the team quarterback and all, but I tried not to be a jerk to the other kids. Do you think it might have been someone from a rival team? We were on our way to the championship. Maybe they wanted to take me out.”

  “We’ll check into it,” Ron told him. He was starting to fade. She moved closer to Joe. “You get some rest. We’ll let Chris and Derek know how it went.”

  Jimmy nodded. “Thanks.” He disappeared, presumably to his room to sleep it off.

  “Poor kid,” muttered Joe.

  “What about you? These visions are pretty intense.”

  “I’ve seen worse,” he pointed out. Then added, darkly, “I’ve done worse.”

  Ron took his hand. “Ready to get out of here?”

  “We gonna track down your sister?”

  She considered it, then she gave him a wry smile. “Something tells me she wouldn’t appreciate that. Let her and Derek take their time.”

  Joe lifted an eyebrow. “So now you’re matchmaking?”

  “No. Maybe.”

  “Speaking of things Chris wouldn’t appreciate…”

  “Hey, you both told me not to interfere.” She held up her hands. “This is me not interfering. Let whatever happens between her and Derek happen.”

  Joe seemed to consider this. “I actually can’t argue with that.”

  “Good. Let’s go home. We can watch TV while Chris is out.” She held out her hand to Joe but he didn’t take it. “Something wrong?”

  “I was just wonderin’…do you think I could do it myself? Get myself back, I mean?”

  She lowered her hand and shrugged. “Won’t know unless you try.”

  “Okay then.” He stood up straight and closed his eyes, appearing to concentrate really hard. After a moment, he shimmered out of sight.

  Ron smiled, proud of her big lug. Then she followed him home.

  Chapter Nine

  When Derek had suggested going out for drinks to give the ghosts space to do their thing, Chris had accepted without giving it much thought. She knew their presence would only be a distraction. Besides, it had been a long time since she’d sat down to relax in the presence of living people. Drinks with Derek sounded nice.

  It was only when she’d got dressed for the evening that it had occurred to her to wonder whether this was supposed to be a date. Did he mean for it to be? Did she want it to be?

  She hated these guessing games. It was why she rarely dated to begin with.

  Well, that plus the fact that guys never stuck around once they got a full taste of the weirdness that was her life.

  In the end, she’d decided to keep it casual but nice. Nice enough to show him that she could clean up pretty well, but casual enough to convey that their evening held no expectations. At least not on her part. She’d left the house feeling confident and in charge of how this evening would go.

  So naturally, by the time she pulled up in front of the restaurant where they’d agreed to meet, she was second-guessing everything. She saw him standing out front, pacing back and forth near the entrance. He was checking his watch and didn’t notice as she drove by. She had to circle around back to find a parking space, but she wasn’t about to complain. She was too busy being grateful for the extra time and the opportunity to check her appearance where he wouldn’t see.

  She flipped the sun visor down to look in the mirror and frowned. She’d put her hair up in a top knot, thinking it had looked sophisticated, but now, it just looked sloppy. She considered taking it down and running a brush through it, but of course, she hadn’t brought a brush and she’d probably only make it worse anyway.

  Unbuckling her seat belt, she smoothed out the wrinkles in her blouse and picked off some stray cat hairs. She frowned at her skinny jeans, wishing she’d gone with a skirt instead. Too late to do anything about it now, though. With a sigh, she brushed more cat hair off her jeans and checked the mirror one more time to make sure she hadn’t got any lipstick on her teeth. This was as good as it got, at least for now. Heaving a sigh, she got out of the car.

  When she reached the front, she found Derek leaning against the building. He glanced up as she rounded the corner, then straightened up and smiled. “Hey. You look nice.”

  “Thanks.” At least he has low standards. She noticed for the first time that he’d cleaned up pretty well himself. She was used to seeing him looking all clean-cut and professional on TV, but in a dark gray button-down and black jeans, he’d struck just the note of nice and casual that she’d been striving for. Was this a date? She grinned, hoping it didn’t look as panicked as she felt. “You look nice, too.”

  “Thanks.” He rubbed the back of his head nervously. Chris grew increasingly nervous herself as she watched him fidget. “Well,” he said at last, “I don’t know about you, but I’m ready for that drink. Shall we?” He made an “after you” gesture toward the front door. She nodded and moved past him, but as she reached the door he hurried to open it for her.

  “Do you want to get a table?” he asked. “Or—”

  “There’s room at the bar.” Suddenly, Chris felt terrified by the prospect of a private table. It felt way too intimate.

  “Okay.” He made that “after you” gesture again. Chris led the way to the bar, where they sat in fidgety, awkward silence until the bartender greeted them. “Talisker and water,” Derek told her, and she turned to Chris. “And you, ma’am?”

  “Same,” she said with a quick smile up at Derek.

  He returned her smile, with an
appreciative glint in his eye. “So you drink Scotch.”

  “On occasion. It’s not like I keep a fifth in my desk drawer or anything.”

  He nodded, still smiling. “I like that. My last girlfriend would only ever touch white wine.”

  Chris felt her eyebrow creep up. “Your last girlfriend?”

  His smile vanished. “Oh. I just meant, the last woman I spent a significant amount of time with. Socially, I mean. I wasn’t trying to imply—”

  “Gotcha,” Chris said, letting him off the hook. The bartender set their drinks down on the counter, and they both picked them up and took a sip. Derek seemed to be as grateful for the distraction as she was. Chris relaxed a little as the Scotch burned its way down her throat and spread a comfortable warmth all through her chest.

  Before the silence turned awkward, Derek set his drink down and leaned back. “So, your sister and this other guy—”

  “Joe,” she supplied.

  He nodded. “Do you suppose they’re at my place yet?”

  Chris opened her handbag and checked the time on her phone. “Probably. They were waiting for sundown to head over. Things tend to be easier for them after dark.”

  “Really? Why is that?”

  “I’m not really sure. Something about moving around in daylight seems to sap their energy faster. It’s why most haunted places are more active at night. Anyway, it should make it easier for Jimmy to do what he needs to do.”

  “And what is that, exactly? I thought they were just going to talk to him.”

  “Well, hopefully, they’ll be able to actually see what happened that night. I don’t actually know how it works, but apparently, they have the ability to project visions and memories. If Ron and Joe can help Jimmy tap into that, they’ll be able to serve as impartial witnesses to his murder.”

  “Wait a minute.” Derek turned on his stool to face her. “Does that mean Jimmy will have to relive that night?”