by Ripley, Ron
“If not me, then who?” Ellen asked. And she realized she was having the same argument she always had with Mike whenever she wanted to do volunteer work or take care of a patient in a dangerous section of town. He had always been protective, and he was still being protective, even in death.
“There’s already the guy that bought the old man’s house,” Mike answered. “Let him do it.”
“I can’t.”
“You need to,” Mike whispered.
There was a hissing sound, and Ellen stumbled back, closing her eyes as she started to fall.
She woke up in bed, her alarm going off.
What a bizarre dream, Ellen thought as she sat up and turned the alarm off. She got out of bed and headed out into the kitchen to start the coffee before her shower.
She nearly walked into a chair standing beneath the smoke detector.
In the air she could smell cigar smoke, and a quick look at the den showed the stub of a fresh cigar stubbed out in Mike’s eagle ashtray.
Ellen swallowed dryly and grabbed hold of her racing thoughts.
She couldn’t stay in the apartment. Not if Mike was going to show up. She couldn’t be afraid to leave her bedroom and—
“Shit.”
What if he showed up in the bedroom?
Ellen left the den, walked back to the bedroom and picked up her phone. She scrolled through her contacts. She needed to find someone who wasn’t married or living with a partner.
There wasn’t anyone.
Not a single person.
All of her friends, both female and male, were in relationships, and she wasn’t going to ask to sleep over because she was afraid of ghosts.
Ghosts.
There was one person she could call. She didn’t know him very well, but she didn’t get a creepy vibe off of him, and she could always lock the bedroom door somehow.
If Charles would even think about having her over.
For a moment she thought about his house, about the things in the library. Even with the things locked away Charles’s library Ellen would rather be in his house than with Mike in the apartment.
Anything would be better than waking up to Mike’s ghost.
She couldn’t deal with that. Not again.
Ellen scrolled through her contacts, found his number, and called Charles Gottesman.
Chapter Thirteen
Where to Sleep
Charles was exhausted.
Someone had been a complete and utter pain in the ass in the library, pretty much through the whole night. He’d finally been forced to come down and catch a couple of interrupted hours of sleep on the couch.
He sat in his recliner and looked through the journal Mr. Sherman had kept regarding the objects, and he found the entry he was looking for.
Nurse’s cap. Found in the debris of the USS Pirate following sinking of the ship by a mine. Wonsan Harbor, Korea, 1950. Twelve missing sailors, one missing nurse (Rose McCourtland), and one dead. Since the nurse’s cap was recovered, there have been eleven deaths related to ‘dry’ drowning in the cap’s presence. Purchased at an estate sale, 1990, Bar Harbor, Maine.
Drowning, Charles thought. The bitch was trying to drown me.
I need to figure out how to control them.
Charles flipped through the pages, looking for some way to gain control when his cell phone rang.
With a grunt, he leaned forward, took the phone off the coffee table and looked at the caller ID.
Ellen.
“Hello?” he asked as he answered it.
“Charles,” she said. “It’s Ellen.”
“Is everything okay?” he asked, straightening up. He could hear fear in her voice.
“No. I had a bad night.”
“Me too,” Charles said. “I’m very sorry to hear it. Can I do anything?”
“Well,” she said nervously, “this is kind of strange, but do you happen to have an extra room?”
“I have several,” Charles answered. “Do you need to stay here for a while?”
“You don’t mind?” she asked, relief flooding into her voice. “I mean, it’s not too strange, is it?”
“Ellen,” Charles said, “I think you and I both know what’s too strange. When do you want to come over?”
“Now,” she answered. “I want to throw some stuff into a bag and come over now.”
“Then come over,” Charles told her. “I’ll go unlock the front door and get some coffee going.”
“Thank you,” Ellen said. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” Charles said. “And don’t worry about it. This is going to be good for me, too.”
Chapter Fourteen
Elmer visits Dave in the Hospital
Elmer was excited.
No, scratch that. He was beyond excited. There wasn’t even a word for what he was right now.
He parked his car in the back lot of the hospital parking lot. He got out and stretched, trying to calm himself down. It wouldn’t look good to go bopping into the hospital to visit his “father” in ICU. Which is where they were currently keeping Dave.
Finding out where the pawnbroker was and what had happened to him had been a chore and a half.
Oh, well. Elmer locked the car, stuffed his keys into his coat pocket and his hands in after his keys. Time to go.
He walked at a slow and steady pace, like someone visiting a terribly sick relative ought to be doing. He could run. God no. If somebody saw him, and then heard the questions he was going to ask Dave, Elmer might find himself being evaluated in the ER in regards to his own sanity.
But he was more than sane. Much more than sane.
Life had dealt Elmer a royal flush in the form of Captain Epp, and Elmer only had to play the hand right to get the whole pot.
Oh, yes. Everything was his for the taking.
Murder weapons he could feed.
A shiver of excitement raced along his spine, and Elmer realized how quickly he was walking. He had to slow down.
Elmer forced himself to slow down, to breathe deeply and think only of making it into the building. A minute later, he was passing through the revolving doors and walking purposefully down the hallway towards the elevators. When he reached them, he glanced at the signs and saw he was standing in front of the proper elevators to take him to the fourth floor and the ICU wing.
Elmer pressed the button and waited for the elevator. In a moment it was there and he was stepping in and pressing the “4” button. The door closed and Elmer stood straight, waiting.
At each floor the elevator slowed down, as if to make a stop, and then it continued on.
Elmer was nervous even though he knew no one could challenge what he would say. No one at all.
The doors opened and Elmer stepped out onto the fourth floor. A sign pointed to the left, showing the way to ICU. Elmer followed the sign and reached a pair of locked doors. Outside of them was a hard lined phone. Elmer picked up the phone and put it to his ear. A moment later there was a chime and a woman. “ICU, who are you here to see?”
“Hi, I’m here to see my father, Dave Ganz.”
“Hold, please,” the woman said.
A moment later the door opened up and a doctor stepped out. She smiled at Elmer, extending her hand.
“Hello, I’m Doctor Coryell,” she said. “I’m sorry we’ve had to meet under these circumstances.”
“Me too, doctor,” Elmer replied. “Can you tell me what’s happened exactly? I’ve gotten all sorts of confusing stories, from my father being drunk and crashing his car to him being attacked by Afghanis with acid. All I know for certain is he was in some sort of accident, and he’s been brought here and placed in ICU.”
“Well,” Doctor Coryell said, “your father was in a single vehicle car accident. But he wasn’t drunk. In fact, we’re not exactly sure what happened. We’ve done some tests and sent some blood work out to try and identify any issues we might not be able to see, but other than that, we don’t know what’s going on.
All we do know is he has severe second and third degree chemical burns on over eighty percent of his body, and his corneas were exposed to whatever it was as well, leaving him permanently blind.”
“God damnit,” Elmer said, honestly shocked.
“Yes,” the doctor said, nodding her agreement. “So I wanted to warn you we have your father pretty well wrapped up at this moment. We’re treating his chemical burns the best way we can right now, and we’re hoping we can save him. His body has experienced a severe shock, though, and if he does pull through the shock, he may well succumb to an infection due to the burns.”
“I understand,” Elmer said softly.
“Okay,” Doctor Coryell said, nodding. “Follow me.”
She led the way, swiping her safety badge over a keypad. A red light flipped to green, the door lock clicking loudly. She opened the door and held it for him. He followed her into the ICU where there were other patients, four altogether, with one or two relatives sitting with them.
Except for Dave.
No one was sitting with Dave.
The man looked like a mummy, wrapped protectively in some sort of material, his eyes bandaged and tubes running into his mouth and his hands. Machines beeped steadily, and Elmer wondered how in the hell he was going to get Dave to talk.
Even if he did manage to get something good and coherent out of him, Elmer would have to worry about the ICU staff overhearing things. Not that they would be able to make sense out of much of anything when it came to the death items, but Elmer did enjoy keeping a low profile as often as possible.
“Please come get us if you need anything or if you have any questions,” Doctor Coryell said at the door to Dave’s room.
“I will,” Elmer replied, and he went into the room.
He smelled disinfectants and medicines and death. Half a dozen machines were clicking and making soft sounds, all of them performing vital functions. If it weren’t for the machines, Dave would not only look dead, but be dead.
Only by the grace of God, it seemed, was Dave still alive.
But that was good.
Elmer needed Dave alive. He needed Dave to come to consciousness long enough for the man to tell him if he knew of the other items. And if he did, where the hell they were.
Elmer walked close to Dave and leaned over the man, his back to the staff in the center of the ICU hub. He needed them to think he was worried about his ‘father’. A moment later, Elmer straightened up and walked around the bed to the room’s single chair.
He sat down, pulled a battered copy of Salem’s Lot out of his jacket pocket, and read, waiting for Dave to wake up.
* * *
Book 3: Gathering the Cursed
Chapter One
John and Lee have a Chat
A knock sounded on John’s apartment door.
A hard, heavy knock that sent a ripple of fear through John.
He picked up his .38 from the coffee table, held the weapon at his side, and went and stood by the side of the door.
“Who is it?” he asked.
“John, it’s Lee.”
“Lee?” John asked. “Lee who?”
“Lee Parker.”
John stiffened, put the pistol on the TV cabinet, and opened the door. “Hey, Lee, come on in.”
“Thanks,” Lee said, walking in and going to the couch. He sat down, looked at John’s coffee, and picked it up, taking a long drink. “Sit down, John.”
John went and sat down in his chair. “What’s going on, Lee?”
“Nothing much,” Lee answered.
“I’m paid up with everybody.”
“I’m not here about any of that.”
John relaxed a little. “Oh. So, what can I do for you?”
Lee finished John’s coffee and set the empty mug back on the table. “You still moving stuff out of evidence?”
“Once in a while,” John said.
“Good,” Lee said, looking steadily at him. “I got a friend who needs you to move something for him. He’ll pay.”
John sighed with relief. “Sure thing, Lee. That’s not a problem at all.”
“I’ll give him your number. Make sure you give him what he wants.”
John nodded.
“I will not be a happy man if I have to come back and talk to you about this,” Lee said in a cold voice.
John swallowed nervously, looking at the thin, harsh man sitting across from him. Lee wore an old leather jacket over a sweater and a pair of faded jeans with Wellington boots. Somewhere, Lee would have a knife. Not a very big one, John knew. Nothing big enough to violate Lee’s parole. That hadn’t ever been Lee’s style.
“I didn’t know you were out yet,” John said, smiling anxiously. “I don’t think anybody does.”
“Most don’t,” Lee said. He picked up John’s cigarettes and lighter off of the coffee table. He shook out a cigarette, lit it, and then pocketed both the lighter and the cigarettes.
John didn’t say anything.
Lee stood up, looked around and said, “I’m leaving. I’ll give him the number. Make sure you give him whatever he wants.”
“Sure, Lee,” John said. “Sure.”
Lee nodded, walked to the front door, and left.
When the door clicked shut, John shuddered and relaxed into the chair. He hoped Lee’s friend would call soon and there wouldn’t be any more conversations with Lee.
Ever.
With trembling hands, John got up, locked the front door, and made himself more instant coffee.
Chapter Two
Charles and Ellen and the Library
Charles greeted Ellen at the door as she crossed the porch carrying a couple of bags.
“How are you holding up?” he asked her, closing the door behind her.
She shook her head. “Not good.”
“What’s going on?” he asked, taking a bag from her and leading the way up the stairs.
“My dead boyfriend showed up last night and told me to stay away from this whole fiasco,” Ellen replied tiredly.
“Oh.”
“Yeah.”
Charles brought her to one of the front bedrooms. Inside he had set up his old camping cot and thrown a spare area rug down on the floor. He had managed to get shades up when he first moved in, and he had taken a floor lamp and put it in there as well.
“Sorry I don’t have any more furniture,” Charles said, “but I’ve been living in a small apartment for the past couple of years.”
“Don’t worry about it.” Ellen smiled. “I’m thankful you’re doing this for me. We don’t know each other, and this is a big thing you’re doing.”
“Well, if you’re being visited by the dead,” Charles said, “I guess we’re in this together.”
Charles stepped aside to let her into the room and waited as she put her bags down on the cot.
“So,” she said. “How come you didn’t sleep well?”
“My tenants in the library,” Charles said bitterly. “One of them tried to kill me.”
“Oh. Wow.”
“It was a disturbing experience,” Charles said. “I was going through Mr. Sherman’s journal, trying to find a reference to anything that might tell me how to control the difficult ones.”
“Did you find anything?” Ellen asked.
“No,” Charles said, shaking his head. “Not yet. Do you want some coffee?”
“Yes, please,” Ellen answered. “That’d be great.”
“Okay, follow me,” he said. Charles led her back downstairs and into the kitchen, gesturing towards the table as he said, “Take a seat.”
“Thanks,” Ellen said and sat down.
“I don’t have any cream,” Charles said as he made the coffee, “but I do have sugar.”
“That’s okay, I like it black.”
“Excellent,” Charles smiled. “I’m hoping to get out to Milford again in the next couple of days, see if I can’t find the pawnbroker’s booth. If we’re lucky, everything should be there.”
/> “If we’re lucky.”
Charles nodded, sitting down at the table. “I haven’t had a roommate in about ten years, so I’m a little rusty on the whole thing. I’ve got a washer and dryer in the basement, and plenty of room in the fridge, and cabinets for whatever you want to buy. I read a whole lot and write too, so I’m a pretty quiet guy. The only disturbance, of course, is going to be from the library.”
“We’ll figure that out,” Ellen said. “Don’t worry about it. I like my sleep. I don’t get enough of it. I sure as hell don’t want to have to suffer because I’m rooming with irritable ghosts.
Charles grinned at her. “Sounds good to me.”
In a few moments, the coffee was ready, and Charles poured them each a mugful.
“Do you want to come up to the library with me?” Charles asked her before taking a sip of his coffee. “I’m going to poke around and see if there’s anything up there that might help.”
“Sure,” Ellen said. “I called a friend to cover my visits today, so there’s nothing for me to do. Mike’s family decided yesterday to not let me help with the burial planning. In fact, they sent a happy little email saying it might be better if I didn’t show up to the wake since we weren’t married or anything.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Charles said.
Ellen shrugged her shoulders as she stood, her eyes red with lack of sleep and unspilled tears. “I know he loved me. That’s all I need. I may want to see the burial, but I don’t need to.”
Charles could only nod before leading the way to the library.
The library was quiet, thankfully, when they entered.
“Let me grab another chair,” Charles said. “You can sit on that one if you like.”
“Thanks.” Ellen smiled, and she sat down, brushing a loose lock of hair out of her eyes.
Charles went into his own room, grabbed the ladder-back Shaker chair by his dresser, and carried it into the library, setting it down on the desk across from Ellen.
“So,” she said, looking around. “We need to figure out if there’s a way to lock down some of the nastier things in here?”
“Yes, exactly,” Charles said.
“Well,” Ellen said, “is there anything in here that looks like it might work?”