Bobby sat back in another chair, and clasped his hands behind his head languidly, a moment later Tammy returned and began fixing her typing error.
“What are you doing here anyway? I told you I never wanted to see you again,” she said. Again her head rotated from typewriter to Bobby and back again repeatedly.
Bobby leaned forward in his seat and said, “C’mon Tamm, are you still sore at me for the other night? We’ve had bigger fights than that an’ you never were mad this long. What’s the matter with you?”
She slumped back in her chair and looked at him angrily at first, and then her gaze softened, “You know what’s the matter with me. When are you going to give up this music thing and get a real job? One you can support a family on. Geeze Bobby, We’ve been dating over three years now; a girls gotta know that it’s not all a waste of time.” She looked at her ring finger and touched it with her other hand.
“Oh man, this again?” Bobby whispered, “Look Tammy, I love you, you know I do, but the time’s not right. Besides I make plenty of dough as a musician and it’s something I love doing. I’m good at it, too; really, really good.”
“I know how good you are, but is that going to last? What happens ten, twenty years from now? How are we going to save for the kid’s education?” she replied.
“Kids? What kids?” Bobby retorted, “Do you see any kids around? I don’t. We’re barely out of bein’ kids ourselves. Give it a break Tamm, one thing at a time. Like I said I make plenty o’ bread.”
She looked at him and replied through slit teeth, “We have to start thinkin’ of the future. We’re not gettin’ any younger.”
He smiled and said, “I love it when you get angry, you start clipping your words, slaughterin’ the English language. The real you comes back out, and not the big city educated one who took her place.”
Tammy angrily looked back at the typewriter, and then continued, “What are you doing here anyway?”
“I came to see if you were free for lunch; I wanted to talk to you, that’s all. I missed my girl,” Bobby slumped back into the chair he was sitting in and waited for her reply.
She turned toward him and softened, a smile creeping into the corners of her mouth, “You missed me? Where’d you want to go? I am gettin’ kinda hungry,” she replied in a soft voice only the two of them could hear.
“Anywhere you want sweepea; you pick,” Bobby replied. He touched her shoulder gently as he spoke.
“Can we go to that new place that just opened? The Parthenon? It’s an outdoor café.”
“S-sure, whatever,” he replied then added in a murmur, “The Parthenon; this city and all its Greek references. The population is more Italian and Irish immigrants than anyone else. Chances are it’s another of Phylo Zeus’s places.”
She smiled and said, “Why do you think I want to go there?” Then she pecked him on the cheek, got up and headed for the door. Halfway to the door she turned back and said “So are you coming?”
Bobby shook his head and stood. He stole a glance at George, who was drinking something from a large mug. George tipped his mug toward Bobby and turned back toward a copy boy who was haranguing him.
“Guaranteed that’s not coffee in that mug,” Bobby muttered. He turned and followed Tammy to the elevator door.
Inside the elevator Bobby turned toward her and said, “I almost feel like you planned this all out; like it was your idea for me to come down here and invite you to lunch, so I could take you to this new joint.”
“Maybe it was,” Tammy replied slyly, “but even if it wasn’t, a girls gotta do what she’s gotta do to stay safe in this big, dirty city. An’ what could be safer than me walkin’ inta Phylo Zeus’s swanky new place with the number one trumpet player in the city on my arm? Beside, maybe you’ll get a gig outta it.”
“There you go speaking in contractions again.”
“Oh poo.” She slapped him lightly on the arm and exited the elevator doors as they slid apart.
Outside in the bustling Riverburgh street she hailed a cab, and out of the sea of yellow one pulled over immediately.
Annoyedly Bobby followed her into the backseat car and settled in, staring out the window.
“Where to?” the cabbie asked.
“That new place, the Parthenon,” Tammy replied in her almost squeaky voice.
Minutes later they pulled in front of the fancy outdoor café’. Waiters bustled about the guests tables in black vests and spotless white aprons. Silver garlanded trees surrounded the restaurant. The tables were all white marble. The place reeked of opulence.
“Geeze, I hope I can afford this,” Bobby murmured.
“You said ‘anywhere,’” Tammy reminded him, as she grasped his sleeve and pulled him toward the door.
They were seated promptly and both began to view the menu.
“So what are we doing here? Really?” Bobby asked.
“We’re digging.”
“For what?”
“Information on that bar fight the other night. Phylo’s not talking to anyone about it and everyone who was there is just clammin’ up too.”
Bobby pushed his fedora back a little and leaned forward, then said, “You know you are going to get yourself killed one of these days.”
“That’s why I brought you along, to protect me like the delicate flower that I am,” Tammy answered, a mischievous grin planted across her face.
The waiter walked over, a thin man with slicked back black hair and a pencil thin mustache, “How may I help you today?” he said in a voice with a slight French accent.
“I’ll take the crab meat salad and a glass of Chardonnay,” Tammy said.
“It’s not even noon yet, fer God’s sake,” Bobby snapped quietly. Then he turned toward the waiter and said, “I’ll take a burger, well done, a slab o’ cheese on top an’ somethin’ from your homeland, French fries. To drink I’ll have a coke.”
“Monsieur does realize that ‘French fries’ are an American, ahem, delicacy?” the waiter asked with a raised eyebrow.
“Oh yeah? I didn’t know that, but hey, you learn something new every day,” Bobby replied.
The waiter nodded disdainfully and walked away.
“So what, Tamm, are we just gonna sit here all day long and wait for someone to start talking about a bar fight on the other end of town that no one cares about?”
“No, wise guy, we’re waiting for him,” she nodded toward the entrance.
Bobby followed her gaze and watched as the mountain of a man known as Phylo Zeus walked through the doorway everyone had to pass through to enter this indoor/outdoor café.
“Geeze, that guy is huge,” Bobby whispered.
“He is, and he’s also a bad, bad man,” Tammy agreed.
“So what do you know about this fight, an’ why are you so interested in it anyway?” Bobby turned back to her and asked.
“Well, rumor has it that a ghost tore the place up. A ghost. Think about that. Does that sound like a tall tale or what? I think Zeus had a gang fight happening right inside one of his bars and he’s trying to cover it up for some reason or another. I bet some out of towner is trying to muscle in on his territory, so he came up with this cockamamie ‘ghost’ story.”
“What? You don’t believe in ghosts?” Bobby asked her playfully.
“Oh and you do? Who are you tryin’ to kid?” she hissed in reply.
“I’m not sayin’ I do or I don’t. But I tend to leave all possibilities wide open, if I can.”
The waiter returned and placed two glasses before them as well as a bottle of expensive wine.
“Wait- I didn’t order this,” Bobby stammered.
“It was a gift of the house. You neglected to tell me how famous you are in this city, Monsieur Terrano,” The waiter replied. He bowed at the waist and backed away. Bobby looked around curiously and saw Phylo Zeus raise a glass of his own from across the room. He was standing at the bar and nodded toward Bobby and Tammy. Bobby smiled cordially, raised his own
glass, nodded and sipped from it.
“Now you’ve gone and done it, Tammy, here he comes.”
“I know, my plans workin’ out perfect,” she hissed with a smile.
Phylo Zeus approached their table on the outdoor patio and gestured toward an open chair, “May I?” he asked with a wide smile.
“Of course, it would be an honor,” Bobby replied affably.
“So I have to ask, what brings the great Bobby Terrano to my humble café?” Phylo queried in his deep basso voice.
“Ah we just wanted to try a new place and ‘The Parthenon’ is the newest of the new, so we figured we’d give it a whirl.”
“Well I’m glad you did, my boy. Perhaps this will be the first step toward you actually playing in one of my many concerns around Riverburgh.” Zeus answered.
“Well, like I’ve told you before Mr. Zeus, I appreciate the offer, but I like playing in the smaller jazz clubs, like O’Malleys. There’s less pressure there and I can play for me and my music.”
“Bobby, I’ll pay you two, no make that three times what you make in a night at a dive like O’Malleys. Come to work for me and I’ll set you up for life. Think about it son, the big house, the fame the fortune, the recording contracts You’ll be famous.”
Bobby slumped back in his seat. Surprise was written all over his face as it was on Tammy’s as well.
Zeus continued, “You and Miss Thomas will be able to get married and have the life you both so richly deserve. Think about it, I don’t need an answer today. Take your time.”
Zeus began to rise up out of his seat when Tammy regained her composure and said, “Wait Mr. Zeus I-I want to ask you a few questions, if I may.”
“What about, Miss Thomas?” Zeus asked with a slight amount of surprise writ on his face.
“Umm, there was a problem at one of your bars the other night, a fight? Rumor has it that a ghost was seen there, and that was who or what busted up the place. Care to comment on any of that?”
Zeus chuckled nastily and then said, “Miss Thomas, ghosts are naught but stories told to frighten children; are you a child, Miss Thomas?” then he turned and disappeared back into the café.
“That went smoothly,” Bobby said, between mouthfuls of his just arrived burger.
“Ooohhh shut up you,” Tammy grunted.
Chapter 6
That evening Bobby Terrano exited a cab with his trumpet case in his hand outside of O’Malley’s pub. But what he saw stunned him into slack jawed silence.
“No! O’Malley’s…” he muttered aloud. The cabbie exited his hack on the driver’s side and looked on in stunned silence as well. The pub and apartments above it were engulfed in flame which raised high into the night.
“Lou, stay here,” Terrano shouted at the cabbie and threw his trumpet into the man’s waiting arms.
“Sure, but what’re you gonna do, Bobby?” Lou the cabbie asked.
“I’ve got to make sure old man O’Malley is all right.”
Bobby turned and ran across the street to a cop he knew who was working to keep the growing crowd back.
“Tom! Tom where’s O’Malley? Did he get out?” Bobby shouted.
Reluctantly the cop shook his head negatively and then said, “No one’s seen him, Bobby, I’m sorry.”
Terrano turned and ran back to the cab. Quickly he hopped into the back seat and ordered, “Lou, take me around the block, hurry.”
“Okay Bobby, whatever you say,” the older man said. He gassed the big sedan and it rolled to the next corner and then turned. Once it was out of sight it ground to a halt.
“Lou, hold on to this for me, I’ll get it from you tomorrow,” Bobby again handed the trumpet to the cabbie.
“Okay Bobby, I don’t know what you’re plannin’, but be careful, whatever it is.”
“I’ll try Lou, but Mr. O’Malley never got out. He may be trapped in there, and I don’t see any firemen going in there to look for him.”
“Crap,” Lou replied, “In that case I’ll wait here for ya, be careful, kid, you ain’t no hero.”
“Don’t I know it, Lou,” Bobby shouted as he exited the cab and ran into an adjoining alley.
“I sure hope this works,” he whispered.
Bobby touched his belt buckle on his plain black leather belt, and instantly it changed to one of wide golden metal. As it transfigured, so did Bobby’s clothes. One instant he was standing there in the shadows as Bobby Terrano, trumpet player extraordinaire, the next he was replaced by a white and jet figure with a skull-like visage, cloaked in partial darkness, The Grim Spectre had returned!
With but a thought the Grim Spectre floated upward until he was above the blaze.
‘I don’t want to be seen, I wish this magic suit was completely black and hidden right now,’ Bobby thought.
Immediately the costume he wore turned as black as night, hiding him from view.
‘Cool,’ he thought, ‘I wonder if I can become completely invisible?’
At the mere thought he faded from sight completely, now utterly invisible.
He floated down into the raging inferno.
‘This had better work,’ he said to himself as he became immaterial and dropped through the flames and ceiling of the building.
Quickly he searched the five floors above O’Malley’s Pub and found no one present; finally dropping down through the last floor and into O’Malley’s itself.
He floated mere inches above the floor and hovered from one spot to another, burning wood passed through his body like gossamer.
‘I can hardly see, I need to be able to see better in here.’
Just like that, with his merest thought his vision cleared and he began to see sharply in black and white.
“Whoa, what happened to my eyes?” he said aloud.
“Cough, cough, i-is someone there? H-help me, please,” a familiar voice pleaded.
Instantly the Grim Spectre floated through the wreckage toward the sound of the man gagging on the smoke.
Patrick O’Malley himself was buried beneath smoldering beams that had fallen from the ceiling and trapped him. He had been trying frantically to free himself to the point of his hands being bloodied messes.
“O’Malley!” The Grim Spectre shouted.
“W-who’s there?” the grey haired old man said, squinting through the smoke.
‘He can’t see me,’ The Grim Spectre thought.
But that was all the catalyst his suit needed; instantly he went from jet black and invisible to glowing white, like some horrible ghost out of legend.
O’Malley screamed, “It’s the grim reaper himself, come to bring me to hell!”
“No, wait,” the Spectre said, but as he quickly closed the distance between them, O’Malley had seen enough, and he mercifully passed out.
“No! Dammit, O’Malley,” The Grim Spectre cursed.
“I don’t even know if I can do this or not, but I have to try,” he said aloud.
The Grim Spectre reached out and thought ‘immaterial’ as he touched O’Malley’s shoulder. Instantly as soon as the two men became in contact with each other, O’Malley was now immaterial as well, and fell free of the burning ceiling beam that was pinning him.
Grabbing him now, the Grim Spectre lifted the unconscious man and floated toward the wall, both men passing through it.
A heartbeat later they were on the outside and floating toward the firefighters, who dropped their hoses and ran for the most part. Police drew their guns and muttered prayers for help from God above at the sight of the brightly glowing white figure whose cape was moving almost of its own accord in the hot night wind.
“F-freeze,” Bobby’s friend Officer Tom Wyatt stammered.
“I am not your enemy, Officer Tom Wyatt,” the eerie voice of the Grim Spectre rumbled, “I have come to save this man, not damn him, or any of you.”
He floated down and laid the prone form of Patrick O’Malley at the officer’s feet, then floated backward, away from them both, and up in
to the dark sky.
“Wait, who-what are you?” Wyatt asked.
“I am a Spectre, as some have called me, a ‘Grim Spectre’, and I will be watching this city closely from now on, very closely indeed. Let those who would do evil be put on notice; The Grim Spectre is watching you.”
The Grim Spectre floated up into the sky backwards, and then winked away into non-existence in a glowing nimbus of light.
“Holy mother of God!” Tom Wyatt exclaimed fearfully.
Wyatt looked around himself repeatedly, but saw no other remnant of the Grim Spectre having been there, or even of his mere existence.
“Cough, cough,” choked Patrick O’Malley as he began to come to.
“Easy there Pat, you inhaled a lot of smoke, take a minute,” Tom suggested. He stood up and waved a couple of firefighters to his side.
The firemen saw O’Malley and grabbed a nearby medic, half dragging the man with him to aid O’Malley, who was still choking and coughing.
“O’Malley! Is he all right?” a new voice intruded on Tom Wyatt. He was just about to ask the fire fighter’s medic how the old man was, but he turned in time to see Bobby Terrano return while pushing his way through the crowd.
“I don’t know Bobby, where’d you disappear to?” Wyatt asked.
“I went looking to see if there was any way into the yard of this place. I was going to climb inside and look for old man O’Malley. But I heard the ruckus out here and arrived in time to see that ghoul or whatever it was float away into the sky.
“Yeah Bobby, but that ghoul saved the old man’s life. That thing may be a monster, but whatever it is, it’s a hero,” Tom Wyatt said.
“But what was it?” Bobby pressed.
“I-I dunno, Bobby,” Tom quietly admitted, “but it sure looked like some kinda ghost or monster to me.”
“What, don’t tell me you believe in ghosts? Is this whole city going nuts?” Bobby asked.
He looked heavenward, as if seeking a divine answer, but none was forthcoming.
‘G’wan Bobby, get outta here before I run you in for interferin’ with an investigation,” Tom said.
Bobby raised his hands up defensively, palms out, “Whatever you say, officer,” Bobby backed up and then turned and disappeared into the milling crowd.
The Grim Spectre Page 3