by Alexie Aaron
“Mike’s going to spit nails when he can open his mouth,” Cid said from behind a stack of file boxes.
“What are you doing back there?” Mia asked.
“Hiding from your aunt. She looked at me earlier as if I was Kobe beef and needed a beer massage,” Cid replied.
“Day one: Audrey’s defected to some stud muffin’s house down the road. My lead investigator is in hiding. Murphy’s taken Maggie for a walk and hasn’t returned yet. Bev and Glenda are no doubt already on their second drink, and Burt’s on his way here primed with a half dozen I told you so’s.”
“Don’t forget he’s got the power saw,” Ted said.
“And snacks!” Burt said, climbing in the truck, his eyes dancing. “Looks like you’ve got everything in hand, Ms. Martin.”
“Don’t worry, we’re not paying for the RV,” Mia said, putting her head down on the desk.
“Heavy lies the head that…” Burt started.
“Uneasy lies the head that wears the crown,” Cid corrected.
“Off with their heads,” Mia mumbled, lifting her head. She looked over at the monitor and said, “We’ve got activity on the second floor. Cid, grab Mike’s spare jacket and try to look presentable. Burt, put on your iron vest. You have camera duty. Ted, send Murphy along if he passes by?” Mia asked as she jumped out of the back of the truck and stomped over to the RV and pounded on the side. “Open up, Moby, and spit me out a sensitive. It’s showtime.”
Glenda opened the door. “Already?” she asked, trying to put on lipstick and climb down at the same time.
“Don’t worry, Dupree, I only need Bev right now. You’re on the nightshift so rest up,” Mia ordered.
Bev walked out holding a frothy drink. She handed it to Mia and smoothed her hair. “Point me in the right direction,” she teased. “Oooh, Cid. I get to work with little Cid.”
Mia stepped in front of Bev and said, “Here’s the rules. While on investigation, you give all the investigators your respect. No flirting with the team members. Ghosts, well, they’re fair game. I need you to gather as much information as you can to explain why that platoon of badly dressed males has decided to take over this reno project.”
“Yes, sir!” Bev saluted and pushed past her niece.
“She’s a piece of work,” Glenda said, patting Mia on the back. “I’m surprised you called her considering…”
“Considering the last time we were together she sold me to Angelo?” Mia finished.
“Yes.”
“Everyone deserves a second chance,” Mia said stubbornly. “She’s got to make her way in this world now that Gerald has seen the light of day. I thought I’d help her out.”
“Women like your aunt will always find some poor sucker to finance them. But I think you’re right. Everyone should have a second chance. In some cases, three and four more chances. After all, we aren’t judges…”
“Not you, but I on the other hand…” a deep, buttery Haitian voice said.
Mia and Glenda looked around them, and all they saw was a swirling mist. The mist darkened as it thickened into a pillar. Out of the column of smoke stepped a tall, thin black man. He tipped his beaver top hat to Glenda and took the drink out of Mia’s hands. “What do we have here?” the man asked. He sipped the drink and smiled. “I’d like a few more of those,” he said, handing the glass back to Mia. He then picked off a piece of lint with his manicured fingernails before adjusting each white cuff of his shirt.
“Glenda Dupree, may I introduce you to Judge Roumain,” Mia said.
“Roumain, Roumain, he isn’t...”
“Oh, but Madam I am he. Judge Roumain, the, as your son delightfully puts it, king of purgatory.”
Glenda took the glass out of Mia’s hand and downed the last of its contents.
Roumain smiled. “Young woman, you and I have a few things to discuss. Excuse me, Madame.”
Glenda nodded and backed into the RV.
“I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”
“Actually, I was just going to start an investigation… Oh.” Mia stopped talking and watched as Roumain pulled a handful of sand out of his pocket and tossed it in the air.
“Sands of time. This will buy us a few minutes, yes. Come here and give me your full attention.”
Mia looked around her and saw that nature had stopped moving. Even the robin flying back to its nest had stopped in flight.
“I’m all yours,” she said.
Roumain held out his hand, and Mia put her warm hand in his cold one. He led her away from the vehicles. “This is an old place, yes. Old houses, new people, lots of surprises ahead, I am thinking.”
“Nothing to stop you visiting me here,” Mia said.
“I’ve been invited by Komal to have a conversation with your Angelo.”
“He’s not my…”
“Tsk, tsk, don’t interrupt. Why would the birdman want to risk my wrath by calling for me?”
“Father Santos is the reason.” Mia went on to explain how the priest had perished at the antlers of a deer-woman. How Angelo refused to believe the priest was dead and was keeping his body alive at the aerie.
“So he thinks that the good father is in purgatory?”
“He’s desperate to find Santos’s soul.”
“And if Santos is dead and has moved on…”
“He needs to be told this. Angelo fears, since a deer-woman was involved, that Santos’s soul may be wandering in the black void of the dark world, where…”
“He will wander without touching another soul for eternity. Now I’ve got the picture.”
“Is he?”
“In purgatory? No. In the dark world? There is no way of knowing. No one comes back from there, Mia. If he is there; he is lost. A pity, but there is nothing I can do for him there,” Roumain admitted.
“Angelo went to consult with Ira Levisohn. He is a boy that inadvertently bilocated without knowing it.” Mia grabbed Roumain’s hand and put it on her face as she closed her eyes and remembered the incident.
“Interesting case. I’d like to meet this boy. You understand, it’s quite possible that he didn’t just bilocate into the ghostly plane but into one of the lost planes.”
Mia’s eyes lit up. “He did say he couldn’t move for months. He became part of the floor. You don’t think that Santos is in this lost plane?”
“No, Santos is dead. But Angelo is desperate and thinks he may be there.”
“Are you sure?” Mia asked as Roumain’s thumb stroked her face lightly. She dared to look into his eyes.
Mia found herself in a warm, chocolaty pool. She was naked, treading water, her hair pooling around her shoulders. She felt eyes gazing at her from beyond the darkness. Mia did nothing to hide herself. She felt the bottom of the pool with her toes and moved until she was standing up. Mia walked forward and out of the pool. She stood there and waited to be judged.
Roumain blinked his eyes, and Mia woke from her trance.
“Is that how it will be? My judgment?” she asked, looking away.
Roumain reached his hand forward and turned her face back to him. He bent down so his face was close, too close, to hers. “Mia, you have passed my personal judgment a long time ago. Let’s see how you live out your life, and then perhaps you and I will speak again.”
“Is Father Santos dead or alive?” she asked.
Roumain let go of her face and stood up. He looked to his right and then to his left. He then looked up and then down. “I honestly don’t know. He’s not in the usual places. Perhaps there is something to this lost plane theory.”
“Or the dark world.”
Judge Roumain nodded and repeated, “Or the dark world.”
Mia felt particles of sand fall about her.
“My time is done. I will see your Angelo.”
“He’s not my…” Mia said, but Roumain was already gone.
“Heads-up, pumpkin, the natives are getting restless. Come and give them a pep talk before I have to,” Ted
warned.
Mia touched her ear com and laughed, “Shall I use the St. Crispin’s Day speech?”
“No, something more classy, something from Star Trek. Use lots of pauses,” he coached. “We, who have, been, called…”
“Stop it,” she said laughing. She walked up to where the team stood and said, “Get in there, get the info, and get out.”
They nodded and headed towards the house.
“Pumpkin, you’ve been taking speech lessons from Sheriff Ryan, haven’t you?” Ted asked.
“That’s Mrs. Pumpkin to you, over,” Mia said and spun around in a circle with her arms out.
Chapter Nine
Murphy didn’t take into account that the residents of this affluent community couldn’t see him on the other end of Maggie’s leash. He wasn’t thinking about how it looked to the corporeal community, a large mutt roaming around sniffing their flowerbeds, attached to a tightly held leash with no one on the other end. Fortunately for him, most of the residents were either inside enjoying before-dinner drinks or stuck in the commuter, rush hour traffic. He did, or rather Maggie did, get a rather startled look from a gardener backing out of the drive on his way home for the evening. As if Murphy could read the man’s thoughts, he knew there would be no problem from this quarter. The gardener looked at his watch, shook his head and continued to pull out of the driveway.
Maggie moved from yard to yard taking in all the new smells. She caught hold of a familiar one and pulled Murphy along to 1303. She didn’t stop at the well-groomed lawn or spend any time poking around the early geraniums but went right to the front door, sat down and barked. Horrified, Murphy tugged at the lead, but the dog refused to move.
The front door was opened by a man of forty years. He was dressed casually but expensively. Murphy knew from observing Mia’s godfather Ralph’s attire that this man took time with his appearance. He squatted down and said, “Hello, who do we have here?”
Maggie got up and wiggled her tail. Murphy dropped the leash, and the dog moved into the man’s arms and proceeded to lick his face. He started laughing which caused a female voice to inquire what was going on.
“I’m not sure. It appears that I have a visitor. A…” He stopped and took time to look Maggie over before proceeding, “A female dog has come to visit.”
“Is she a mixed breed with a collar tag that says, I ain’t afraid of no ghosts?”
Murphy watched Audrey approach the door from behind the man.
“Yes, is she yours?”
“Her name’s Maggie, and she’s a PEEP,” Audrey explained, squatting down so Maggie could get a few licks in. “I imagine she followed my scent.”
“Smart dog.” Matt picked up the trailing leash and stood up. “She must have broken free…”
“No, I’m sure she was walked. You just can’t see her companion. Murphy, are you there?”
Murphy tapped his axe against the porch railing.
Matt paled and handed the leash to Audrey. She smiled and stepped out on the porch. “Thank you for the icepack and the willow bark tea,” she said. “For a medical man, you sure have a different way of treating a migraine.”
“Did it work?” he asked, looking down at her.
“Well, yes.”
“Then I’ll collect my payment.”
Murphy watched Audrey tense.
“You’ll send someone over to talk to Great Uncle,” he reminded her.
Relieved, Audrey nodded. “I’ll ask Mia to stop over when she can. She’s running the investigation, but I’m sure she’ll make time.”
“I appreciate it. It’s not that my ghost isn’t welcome, but his constant pacing is becoming rather off-putting. A bit hard to explain to my visitors why I have a marching band practicing in my attic.”
Audrey laughed. “Seventy-six trombones?”
“For a start.”
Murphy frowned at the reference. He knew all about trombones, but why would this homeowner have seventy-six of them upstairs?
“Come on, Murphy, Mia must be looking for both of us. Whoa, look at that RV!”
Audrey waved to Matt and strolled down the walk talking to something called Murphy.
If he hadn’t grown up with Great Uncle’s antics, he may have been put off by the behavior of the beautiful ghost hunter. Instead, he smiled and closed the door.
Mia watched Murphy, Audrey and Maggie as they inspected the outside of Glenda’s vehicle. “When you’re finished, I’d like to bring you up to date on this investigation.”
Audrey giggled and whispered something to where she thought Murphy was standing. Murphy turned around and tapped his axe as if agreeing with her. Mia squinted her eyes at the two of them.
“On my way,” Audrey said. “Whose white elephant?” she asked, nodding her head towards the large vehicle.
“Glenda Dupree’s. I think of it more as a whale out of water,” Mia commented. “Care to share where you’ve been?”
Audrey colored and stammered, “I’m sorry. I thought Bev would have told you.”
“She said you took off with a piece of meat, her words not mine. Just tap your earpiece and call in to Ted next time.”
Audrey’s hand flew to her ear. “I… I don’t have one on.”
“I know.”
“Oh, Mia, I was…”
“No need to explain,” Mia said. “I’ve done it a time or two. Why don’t you go on in and get your ear com, and I’ll catch you up on where we are in the investigation.”
“Sure. I am sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”
“No need to apologize,” Mia said, putting a companionable arm around Audrey’s shoulders. “I’m just glad you’re safe.”
“What, no lecture?” Audrey asked.
“No.”
“Well, then I’m sorry for telling Murphy you sounded just like Burt earlier.”
It was Mia’s turn to blush. “Fuck me and leave me a rose, I’ve become Burt.”
“Not with that mouth, pumpkin,” Ted said in her ear. “Although, if you don’t knock off the donuts…”
~
Burt was uncomfortable. Not only did he feel weighed down by the iron and silver vest Cid had made him to ward off the punches and jabs by irate ghosts, but Beverly Cooper was three feet from him, exuding sexuality. Cid, he noticed was careful to maintain a distance between himself and the cougar, but Burt was tied down by the large camera he was carrying. A brush of her hand, as she squeezed by, sent electric shock waves through him, waking up the thirteen-year-old boy inside.
“I’m seeing quite a lot of activity on the stairs,” Bev reported. “Cid, make sure you have a vicelike grip on the banister. I’ll watch out for Bertie.”
Now she was calling him Bertie. He hated that. She knew it too; it was very clear by the expression that went along with the nickname.
She sat down halfway up the stairs and set a digital voice recorder down beside her. She crossed her legs and examined a vibrant purple, manicured nail as she spoke, “Gentlemen, it has come to our attention that you’re not exactly liking the renovation of this magnificent house. Do you care to go on record? Perhaps suggest a wallpaper or sconce?”
“GET OUT!”
The staircase vibrated as the two words echoed through the house. Cid inched his way down the steps, pouring a protective salt ring around him, Burt and Bev as he went.
“Oh, come on. You know, we’re not going to do that. Give us a reason…”
The stairs bounced up and down as the entire run of steps lifted a few inches off the ground and then slammed down hard.
Unimpressed, Beverly stood up. “Give us a verbal reason. Verbal means to talk, just in case you slept through English class.”
“GET OUT!”
“Two words. Is that the best explanation?” Bev asked.
Burt focused in on the top of the stairs. He saw the carpet unfasten itself, and before he could warn the others, it was pulled with such force that it detached all the way down the steps, causing the protective salt line to d
isappear and the three investigators to become airborne for a few seconds before sliding down the carpet and landing at the bottom in a heap.
The front door burst in, and Mia began firing over their heads. Burt felt invisible hands setting him on his feet.
“Time to make a gracious exit!” Mia shouted as she reloaded. “What the fuck did you say to rile these critters up?” she asked Bev as Murphy carried her through the door. “Cid, are you alright?” she inquired, reaching out a hand to lift the mute investigator to his feet before she fired the shotgun again at the stairs, shredding the carpet that was now floating towards them.
CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!
Murphy’s axe echoed through the hall. Burt got to his feet and followed a limping Cid out the door. Mia walked backward, reloading the shotgun as she went. Murphy was the last out the door, seconds before it closed with a mighty slam.
“Well that was fun,” Mia said to Murphy, flashing him a toothy smile.
He nodded as he wiped imaginary sweat from his brow.
“Pumpkin, time to do a head count,” Ted reminded his wife.
“Damn, I mean, thanks,” Mia said and touched her com. “PEEPs, report in.”
“Burt and Cid, lying exhausted on the front lawn, over,” Burt said, checking the camera which rested safely on his stomach.
“Bev headed for a drink, over.”
“Audrey and Ted in the command center, over.”
“Glenda mixing up a pitcher of Long Island ice teas, over.”
CRACK!
“Thank you team, that will be all for now, over,” Mia said.
~
He chose to take a boat instead of flying over to the isle. According to Judy’s text, he had time. The winter had been a cold one, the spring too short, and even though the ice had broken up and thawed, the water of Lake Michigan was cold and unfriendly. He made use of his time on the craft to order his thoughts. He wanted to present his findings in a calm matter, not letting his emotions jumble the facts. The facts, as he saw them, were that Father Paolo Santos was not dead. His soul was trapped somewhere. Whether it was retrievable was another question. He would have the counsel of a bilocation master and the inside knowledge of the entity that kept order in purgatory. He needed to not be seen as needy or weak, although he was certain those two adjectives described him to a tee right now.