"I don't understand," Ramsey said. "You said you thought the spirit and the victim were both connected, yet you mention he was trying to kill her. What did you see?"
The working man's spirit thought for a moment, scratching his chin as he recalled the events. "When I first saw them coming over the intersection, he was in the seat beside her. They looked like married couples do. Do you know what I mean, how you can tell they're having a lover's quarrel or a domestic, as they call them these days?"
"Which car seat was he sitting in?" Ramsey asked, almost demanding the answer.
The working man's spirit thought for a moment. "You know what? I think he moved. At one point, he was in the back seat and then he moved into the front seat. That's no surprise though as some of us can just move through solid things, right?"
Ramsey listened to the spirit witness' report and thought to himself. Could the "Reaper guy" could have been the same who killed Debbie?
"Do you know who he is?"
The spirit thought for a moment. "No, I can't say I do, BUT I have seen him around before. There's been other times here that -"
Cogan, who had just arrived on the scene, interrupted at this point. She had been watching Ramsey talking to thin air as though he was having a one-way conversation with no one in particular.
"Is everything okay?" she asked, showing concern.
Ramsey spun around to face her, fielding a disturbed look on his face. "There's been another murder," he blurted without thinking first. Turning towards the crumpled car with its bonnet in the brick wall, he pointed. "See?"
Cogan looked at the scene, following the direction of his finger pointing. "What makes you think this one is murder?"
Ramsey still felt a little shocked, putting facts together in his mind, and answered. "It was a man in black."
Cogan paused, looking at Ramsey, thinking to herself and flicking hair from her face as a winter wind blew past. "A man in black? Seriously?"
Ramsey nodded, knowing how silly it sounded but he said it, anyway. "Yes, a black robe, just like the Grim Reaper. He disappeared quickly after the car collided with the brick wall."
The detective looked again at the crumpled mess, feeling a mixture of frustration and even a little anger well up inside her. Believing Ramsey was just a grieving parent looking for things to blame for his daughter's death, Cogan felt frustrated that she could not tell him what she thought. He had to stop interfering. She felt angry with herself for not being able to tell him that and empathetic at the same time. Other police officers had arrived at the scene and were closing off the street. So she grabbed Ramsey's sleeve, guiding him away from the car and its deceased occupant.
As the detective guided him away, Ramsey's dark sense of humour came out to play. "You're closing this street off so often, have you considered we may as well turn it into a pedestrian mall?"
Cogan eye-balled Ramsey, stopping him with a deadly stare. "Are you sick or something? Your niece died here last night too, and you're making jokes as though nothing happened."
Ramsey hesitated, making an inaudible gulp. "Sorry, coping mechanism I have." He removed Cogan's hand from his elbow and released it.
The working man's spirit, who had been watching the whole time, laughed, saying to Ramsey, "Mate, I think she likes you."
"What?" Ramsey said, distracted by the spirit.
"I didn't say anything," Cogan responded.
"Not you," Ramsey told her then turned his head back to the spirit.
"If you could see what I see," the spirit laughed. "This is amazing. How long have you known her?"
Cogan waved her hand in front of Ramsey's face. "I'm right here, just me. Here. Who are you talking to?"
Ramsey's attention snapped back to Cogan, looking into her eyes as he felt himself drawn to three things at once. He found it difficult to concentrate under the circumstances. "Excuse me a minute," he apologised, holding up his right index finger while he gripped the upper part of his nose, closing his eyes. "There's a lot going on right now."
Cogan's voice was stern, almost like a mother would use. "Mr Ramsey, perhaps you should go home. You have had a lot happen with your family and you have just seen this accident now."
"Hey! She's talking to you in that tone, mate," the working man's spirit laughed. "She's got it for you."
Ramsey looked towards the working man's spirit, telling him by telepathy to be quiet, as he wasn't making things any better. The spirit only just laughed back at him. Cogan was saying something else to him as well which he couldn't make out. It was like trying to listen to many conversations at a party, difficult to do with the interference.
"Well?" Cogan's voice cut through to him.
"What?" Ramsey said.
"How about you leave it to the professionals if you have nothing else to contribute as a witness?"
"There's not much more to say," Ramsey stated. "The car came from past Woolworths, and there were car horns blasting as it cut through the intersection. Someone thought they saw someone in the back seat of this car here, moving into the front seat, before appearing to argue with the driver. It veered to the side and -"
Cogan spoke over Ramsey, interrupting him, "And where is this person, or is that the hooded figure you're telling me about?"
Ramsey replied, exasperated, "Exactly!"
"Do you realise how this sounds? I can't chase after ghosts over town or any other hallucinations you may have had."
"But I saw it too," the working man's spirit answered with annoyance. "You tell her, Mister Ramsey."
Just then, Emily appeared at Ramsey's side, saving him from an embarrassing explanation. "You would never guess what I found," she said, ignoring the working man's spirit and Cogan. "Craig, there's been another killing! It is the same rascal as this accident. I saw him myself."
"See?" the working man's spirit blurted. "The pretty lady saw him too."
Emily looked at the working man's spirit, "Oh, you saw it too?"
"Sure did," he replied, looking back at Cogan again. "And are you seeing what I am seeing here?"
Ramsey felt distracted by Emily and the working man's spirit, feeling their gazes upon him and Cogan. "What? Can't you see I'm working here?"
"I don't see what could be working here, Mr Ramsey," the detective told him, noticing other officers on the scene glancing in their direction. She ignored embarrassment and faced back to Craig Ramsey. "We have another accident here and, if you have nothing further to contribute here, I feel you need to go home and rest."
Ramsey fumed. He found it hard enough to convince sceptics to take him seriously. It was even harder when spirits kept talking to him, and interrupting, at the same time. Turning away from Cogan, he clenched a fist, took a deep breath, and ran his fingers through his brown hair. He let the breath out before turning to face the detective.
"You know what? I have more to contribute, Detective Cogan." He emphasised her name to show his frustration. She tensed when he spoke, looking her in the eye, staring into her soul. It unsettled her. When he was certain he had her attention, he spoke. "You obviously want information you don't have already. Before you came out here, you received a call. No, sorry, you didn't receive the call. An officer visited you with the news and he told you about two recent accidents. They happened at the same time, correct?"
Cogan opened her mouth to respond, but Ramsey held up a finger, waggling it to stop her. "Uh uh! It's your turn to listen as a detective with manners. You think I'm a flake, someone you can't take seriously, but here's something you don't already know. A third accident happened," lifting his watch to check the time, "in the last five to ten minutes."
Cogan opened her mouth and Ramsey cut her off again. "And you're about to ask how I know that, right? I assure you I am not responsible for the accident. Nor did I plan it. Nor did I arrange it. I did nothing that your closed-off sceptical mind could believe. I know because that is what I learned just now while you patronised me."
Cogan felt stunned and stood in si
lence, aware that one of the other officers tittered to himself. She didn't have a comeback. "Where was this third accident?"
"Did I say it was an accident?" Ramsey enquired, taken aback. "Oh, yes, I did. I should have said 'murder', but your teams will conclude that it's an accident. Your over-glorified CSI teams won't be able to come up with anything else."
He turned around and strode off. Cogan couldn't see or hear her, but Emily still stood next to her. She and the workman spirit had been watching and listening the whole time with smiles on their faces. Emily smiled at Cogan, "Don't worry, love. He gets this way when he hasn't had a proper nap," before hurrying off after Ramsey.
Cogan, a little stunned by what she saw as Craig Ramsey's defensive passion, was about to move after him when her mobile phone rang. She stopped walking to answer it. "Yes?"
She paused, listening before thanking the caller and hanging up. "Guys, there's been a third one on the other side of town at Hospital Hill."
Cogan looked down the street, just catching sight of Ramsey as he walked around the corner, still talking to himself. "How did he know?" she wondered aloud.
Chapter 6
The rest of the Friday and the weekend following had been tiring for Craig. In the afternoon, he received a call from Tucker's funeral home. They were picking Debra's body up from the medical examiner's office on Monday morning. Craig thought that was a good thing. At least he had something to tell family and friends when they rang to ask about the funeral. Debra had a lot of friends, especially from high school and university, and there was her family as well. They all wanted to call, to convey their wishes, and ask about any funeral plans. Thankfully, they rang the landline phone, as they didn't all know his mobile number, but it was still tiring on his energy. He hated to think of how many were coming through on her Facebook account. He loved that people felt so much for Debra and her passing, but he felt drained on a physical and emotional level.
In the end, wanting nothing more than to hide away and rest, he brought out his old answering machine. It could relay the latest news for people with its opening greeting and take a message at the same time. He could have hired a Virtual Assistant to do it, but he knew the relatives would not like talking to a stranger. The machine seemed the better idea.
It would be easier to call a few key people back with detailed news as it happened, asking them to pass it on to the others.
Tyrone was home too; Craig had picked him up earlier that morning not long after meeting Detective Cogan. The teenager, still tired and sleeping off the sedatives, couldn't answer the phone either.
Samuel's brother, Michael, dropped around on the Friday evening after his work. Michael was a large man, just like Tyrone's father, with the same impish sense of humour; a big kid at heart. He visited on most weekends after the children's father passed, and he often took them to the theme parks or wherever their adventurous souls wanted to go. Ramsey welcomed his company on this Friday night; it gave him a chance to tell Michael everything that he knew about the traffic incident. The large man knew Ramsey's psychic gifts and his past as a magician and mentalist, so listened without judgement. Ramsey appreciated that.
Possessing a logical mind, Michael also asked a lot of questions. What connection did Debra have with the spirit assassin, or even his other victims? Could Ramsey pick the assassin's identity? What motive did it have for killing anyone?
Ramsey had no idea about the spirit assassin's motive but he knew it was one that felt a lot of anger. The cold feeling of burning anger that emanated from the creature had almost paralysed him that morning. He had felt it a few times before, but this time it surprised him before he could defend himself.
Although Ramsey felt tired enough to drop, he and Michael talked until the wee hours of Saturday morning. Michael ended up staying the night in the guests' room of Ramsey's large house.
The next morning, Michael helped with the phone calls. They made a list of a few key relatives, those who Michael knew would call all the others for them. The efforts of many would help lighten the burden. By 4pm, every Samoan relative knew the plans, and so did Debra's university friends.
On Saturday night, Ramsey received an unexpected but welcome visitor. He awoke from a dream, aware that something was happening. He usually kept the room pitch-black at night, drawing the curtains, but a soft blue light bathed the room with a shimmering glow. It looked like he was underwater. Peering from heavy eyes, he noticed a young woman standing at the foot of his bed. At first, he thought it was Emily floating there until she moved closer to the head of his bed. Then he saw her coffee-coloured skin and large expressive eyes.
"Debra?" he said, a bit surprised. "I wondered if you had moved on or not."
Debra's spirit smiled, saying nothing, but he could hear her words in his head. "I had to come see you, Uncle Craig, before I do."
"Had to? As in unfinished business or because you wanted to, Deb?"
Craig sat up in his bed out of habit to allow Deb to sit on the edge, but she remained standing. He looked at her, knowing this could be the last time he saw her, and he wanted to remember everything. Debra raised her arm, holding it towards him, and he touched it; his palm rested against her astral palm, and he could feel its slight tingle.
"I wanted to see you, Uncle Craig," she smiled, sitting beside him with a loving look on her face. "They told me I will be seeing Mum and Dad before I move onto my next stage."
Ramsey felt his eyes well up with tears and he was just aware of Tyrone knocking on the bedroom door before entering. Tyrone made a noise upon seeing his sister sitting on the bed and Ramsey looked up to see him.
Debra appeared to be aware of Tyrone's presence but held Ramsey's gaze. "Thank you for all you have done for me and for Tyrone," she said. "I never told you and I didn't think I would have to so soon."
Ramsey sniffed, wishing he could hold Debra in a hug but settled for trying to pat her hand. "I'd do it again without hesitation. I'm sorry I couldn't save you from what happened but I will catch the spirit that did this."
Tyrone was watching his sister, tears streaming down his eyes. "I'm sorry too, sis."
Debra turned to her brother. "You be good, little bro." She held her fist out towards Tyrone who did his best to fist-pump her back. But his hand went through hers, much to his mixed reaction. Debra's expression showed her sympathy. "Aw, Tyrone, I don't know how to become solid. I wish I could hug you both."
Tyrone tried his best to hug her, and Debbie's face betrayed a hint of sadness. "Oh, wow," she said. "I can feel that!"
They hugged, holding on despite the lack of complete tangibility, and Ramsey stood to hold them both. The hug was a long one, and they wished it could last longer.
"I'll meet you again, Tyrone," she said to her brother, "but not until you are a very old man. Take care of Uncle Craig and say hi-bye to Uncle Michael for me too, okay?"
Debra's spirit turned to face her adoptive uncle. "I'll see you again but sooner," she answered. "Try to forgive the one who did this to me, okay?"
Ramsey felt surprised but also proud of Debra. "I'd kill him if I could."
Debra shook her head at him. "No! You can't do that. You'd do the same in his position. Please treat him with compassion; do you understand?"
Curiosity at Debra's passionate appeal overcame Ramsey. "What do you mean?"
But Debra was already fading away. The blue light illuminating the room shrank away with her, encapsulating her until she finally vanished before the two men's eyes.
"Debra?" Ramsey said, reaching for her as the last fragment disappeared. "Damn! What did you mean by that?"
THAT WAS FIVE NIGHT ago. Now Ramsey sat with Tyrone at Debra's funeral service. Most of Debra's relatives and friends made it for the occasion.
He looked at his adopted nephew, half-listening to the service while he thought about the things Debra had told them. Although he knew it was Debra who visited, he still wondered about her message. Be compassionate, she had said. Her message sounded enlig
htened for a teen-aged girl's spirit. It shocked him with its simplicity, but he couldn't let go of the wish for answers or some kind of justice.
Tyrone, Michael and Craig were the only living people who knew Debra's death to be more than a mere traffic accident. They decided between themselves not to mention it to the other relatives or friends, and Ramsey felt certain that Detective Cogan wouldn't tell others either.
Ramsey snorted to himself gently when Emily, invisible to all but himself and Tyrone, whispered in his ear. He looked in the direction Emily pointed and he saw Detective Cogan sitting in the back row, watching him. Their eyes made brief contact, and she gave a sympathetic nod to him. Ramsey allowed himself to give a quick smile in response before turning back towards the front where the preacher spoke about Debra's life. The preacher made a mistake in his speech, but no one corrected him. Preachers rarely had their facts straight when talking about the deceased anyway, Ramsey thought to himself. That's how they turned the story of Jesus Christ into a money-making lie for the masses they bled and deceived.
Then he noticed a plume of smoke appear from behind the preacher and squinted to look closer. The smoke changed form, transforming into a human shape wearing an Australian Army uniform, and Ramsey smiled. The spirit, puffing upon a cigar clenched between its teeth, looked about until it saw him and floated through the congregation towards him. Ramsey knew the soldier as Colonel Ryan, the resident spirit guardian of the cemetery behind the church.
You wanted to see me, Ramsey?
Ramsey nodded towards Colonel Ryan, thinking his answer back. After the service, Colonel, yes.
I'm sorry to hear about your niece, mate. I'll see you then. Ryan faded away as soon as he finished bethinking.
"I hope you don't want me hanging around for that conversation," Emily whispered in Ramsey's ear.
"He's not so bad," Ramsey whispered back, smiling. "You just don't know if you can handle his charm, being a man in uniform and everything."
Dead Cell Page 5