Moon walked into the Hangman's Rest a few minutes after two o'clock. Kate was serving behind the bar. She was dressed less aggressively than she had been the first time he'd met her. The dark purple silk and lace blouse she was wearing combined with her subtle purple eye shadow emphasised the bright, liquid quality of her dark brown, almost black, eyes. Less of the biker queen and more of the Goth princess today, thought Moon. She looked at him askance, sighed and said archly: "You're the one who found Dominic, aren't you? Poor kid, never did any harm to anyone. The place has been swarming with cops for the last two days, very bad for business, Moon. Next time you go looking for corpses look somewhere else."
"Sorry?" Moon was shocked by Kate's irreverence and it must have shown.
"Oh, I'm sorry, Moon. This bloody awful business upsets me and I tend to cope with rotten problems by joking about them. What are you drinking? Ostrich isn't it?"
"Yeah, a pint please. What time do you stop serving lunch?"
"Kitchen's open all day."
"Okay, I'll order something later but for the moment I just want a quiet spot to sit and read a bit."
Kate pulled his pint of Ostrich and pointed to a corner at the front of the pub where the windows looked out on the street. "No-one should bother you over there."
Moon took his beer over to a single table near the window and sat down. Pulling out a battered paperback and resting it on the table as a kind of camouflage. He opened up his extra senses to see if anyone was nearby. It was harder to see ghosts in daylight so he had to rely more on the strange inner sense that allowed him to perceive them at all. Slowly, his eyes were drawn to a dark patch of shadows in the opposite corner, where the light from the window, caught in the dust motes and cigarette smoke obscured most of his view. The shape of the shadows resolved into the vague outline of a figure in a dark leather coat and wide brimmed hat. The brim lifted slightly revealing the impression of two hostile black eyes and a twisted hook of a nose peeking out from underneath. "What you lookin' at, Sunshine?" vibed the ghost. "I've gutted men for less in the past." Ghostly laughter susurated briefly through the ether. "Not that I'm up to guttin' anything these days, eh?"
"No, I suppose not," Moon vibed back, grinning uncertainly over the top of his paperback. "I was wondering if anyone here might know something about a ghost that eats ghosts..." He felt a bit guilty that he hadn't started by asking for information on Dominic's murder but this morning's experience had set this mystery foremost in his mind.
"Interestin'." Moon jumped in his seat as the dark figure suddenly materialised in the chair opposite him.
"Do you mind? You nearly scared me out of my boots!"
"Arr, but that be ol' Dick's job now, bain't it?" A pewter tankard materialised on the table and Dick took a deep swig of its contents - a useful trick given the price of beer these days.
"Well, have you any idea what kind of monster drains spirits until there’s nothing left but these?" Moon indicated the tiny balls of iridescent blue mist, which were huddling together in the darkness of the corner behind him. They must not like the light, he thought. He'd noticed that most spirits tended to steer clear of direct sunlight. It was probably worse for the little ghost balls, he assumed, because they had so little of themselves left to hold onto.
Dick grinned. "Is that what they be? Little ghost o' ghosts, I had wondered." He shook his head. "No, I ain't seen nothin' like that. Nor heard tell o' un either."
"What about that murder a few days ago in the alley behind the pub?"
"Ah, y'mean young Dominic?"
Moon nodded. "You know him?"
"Know un now don' I. Now 'e's part o' our 'appy fam'ly an all. Weren't no murder in Gallows Alley either, 'is body were dumped there. Mus' o' bin shortly after 'is death too or 'e'd be a 'auntin where 'e was killed." Dick took a deep pull from his phantom tankard.
"Did anyone see who did it?"
"Aye, Gulley Longshafts says he saw one o' they 'orseless carriages pull in by the Rest in the middle hours o' the night. A young cove got out an' opened the other door an dragged Dominic out. ‘E made out as if Dominic were drunk until 'e got un into alley an then 'e jus' drops un an scarpers.'
"Where can I find this Gulley so I could ask him about it?" asked
Moon.
"Ye might catch un in poolroom if ye be lucky, next to yon flashy noisemaker. Poor ol' Gulley - 'as made a fine torment out o' 'is afterlife that thing 'as."
"I'd better go and see if he's there then," replied Moon, picking up his finished glass to return it to the bar.
"Best o' luck mate. If I see yer ghost-eater I'll let ye know."
"Just beware of dark shadows with glowing eyes. I don't want any more blue glows following me around. I already feel like the Pied Piper." He got up to leave.
"Pied who?" asked Dick as he faded back to the corner where he had bled to death all over his favourite deck of marked cards two centuries before.
"What you lookin' at, Sunshine?"
The pool room was upstairs just off the first floor landing next to the corridor to the toilets so Moon had a reasonable excuse to head up there. He visited the gents first, with some trepidation, because the plump and bawdy Georgian prostitute, who haunted the first floor, liked to make a game of jumping out to scare male customers then laughed at them when they peed on their shoes. She did put in an appearance but she just popped her powdered and pockmarked face through the wall behind the urinal, looked him up and down appraisingly and said flatly: "Oh, it's you again, Moon." She then faded crestfallen back into the plaster with a sorry shake of her wig.
"And good day to you too, Madam," replied Moon out loud. It seemed that the news that he didn't spook easily had done the rounds at the Rest.
Fortunately the pool room was empty. The lunchtime punters had rushed off unhappily back to their office jobs and it was too early for the evening clientele to make an appearance. The room was dingy, windowless and full of shadows. The only light shone down from the snooker canopy that hung over the pool table and highlighted a myriad of minor tears and threadbare patches left behind as a testimony to hundreds of drunken pool contests. Two video game machines raved at each other on the wall across from the door. Next to these stood Gulley's hated jukebox, which was mercifully silent at present. The ghost of Gulley Longshafts dangled near the ceiling in an advanced state of decay, occupying the far corner just left of and above the jukebox. What remained of his desiccated features were twisted into an expression of extreme boredom. "It's okay, Gulley," said Moon cheerfully, "you don't have to put on the full show for me."
"Oh, 'ullo, it's Moon, innit?" Gulley gave Moon a ghastly grin and drifted down to floor level, his features rapidly returning to what they had looked like in life, which wasn't much of an improvement. Gulley had been a tall, gangling, cadaverous individual with a mouth full of yellowed tombstone teeth and a pronounced squint in his pale-blue right eye. "It's me penance, y'know, for killing me wife. I 'as to walk the gallows path in the 'our before dawn and 'ang on the gallows when e're a soul may see - to warn 'em o' the consequences o' murder." He said this last word expressively, as if he were warning a child. Moon could tell that Gulley wasn't very bright. He'd come across similar situations before and as far as he could tell such 'penances' weren’t invoked by any higher power, except perhaps the penitent's own greater soul. From what he'd encountered a ‘penance’ usually amounted to some fairly decent type's way of coping with something terrible they had done. He had encountered enough unrepentant monsters in the spirit world to know that this sort of thing wasn’t compulsory.
"Yeah, it's your walk along Gallows Alley that interests me, Gulley. Dick downstairs says you saw someone dump Dominic's body a few nights ago. I'm guessing that it would have been about an 'hour before dawn' - any idea what day it was?"
"I fink it were Thursday. Aye, ‘twould be Thursday, 'cause the beer lorry called that mornin'." Gulley grinned beatifically. "I likes the beer lorry, lots o' nice fumes, it makes I 'appy."
"So - Wednesday night to Thursday morning then. What about the person who dumped the body? Could you describe him?"
Gulley scratched his stubbly lantern jaw. "Well, I was on the gallows walk, see, so I couldn't take much time to get a good look at he. 'Bout five feet 'n a half tall, pale faced lad, not too well favoured in the face, scrawny lookin' - wore those faded blue pantaloons 'angin' half-way down 'is arse, like they do these days, an’ a baggy smock thing on top."
"Jeans and T-shirt?" asked Moon, trying to marry an eighteenth century description with twenty-first century clothing.
"Aye, I fink that's what ye calls 'em," affirmed Gulley, frowning with concentration. "'Ad some kind o' writin' on it. Never learnt to read meself... Knows me letters though, began wi' a big 'J' for jackdaw."
"Any pictures on the T-shirt, Gulley? Anything you might recognise?"
"No, but I recognised 'im though."
Moon was startled. "You did?"
"Aye, many's the time I've 'ung 'ere o' an evenin' watchin' yon lad play wi' those long sticks an' shiny balls in this very room. 'E'd changed though, used to be one o' they young uns in black, now 'e'd cut 'is 'air an' it were goin' yeller at roots. Nearly didn't recognize 'im 'cause 'e looked so diff'rent."
This was more promising than Moon expected. "You don't know his name, do you?"
Gulley's face fell. "Sorry, mate, can't 'ear a bloody fing for that soddin' ‘jook-box’ most o' the time so I don't get t' 'ear their names often. I'm fairly certain 'is wasn't one o' them strange nicknames like some o' 'em 'ave, more one o' yer Tom, Dick or 'Arries, ye might say."
"Oh, well," Moon grimaced, "I suppose that was too much to hope for. Thanks anyway, Gulley."
"Think naught o' it," replied Gulley, returning to his gallows-corpse phase. "Murder is a terrible fing, I knows. Do you fink you could unplug the ‘jook-box’ on your way out? Wi’ a touch o’ luck they might fink it's broken."
"Right you are," said Moon, removing the plug from its socket. Can't be much of an afterlife, he thought as he headed down the stairs.
Back downstairs, Moon ordered a sandwich at the bar. Kate looked at him strangely, "Did you enjoy your chats?" she asked as she pulled him a fresh pint of Ostrich. Moon's eyes widened. "How did you know?"
"Well, I'm psychic enough myself to know when that presence in the window corner's active. But several minutes of watching the close circuit TV feed from the camera in the pool room did confirm my suspicions. Either you're a gifted psychic or a raving
nutter."
"The former, I hope, although some days I'm not so sure."
"Oh, yeah? Why did you unplug the jukebox then?"
"You've got a three-hundred year old gallows victim in there and the jukebox is just under where he hangs. I unplugged it to thank him for a favour and give him a chance of getting a little peace."
"Now I know you're on the level. Only a handful of people know that part of the pub was built directly over where the old gallows used to stand before they relocated them to the crossroads… I'll see about moving the jukebox." Kate handed Moon his pint of Ostrich.
"Thanks. Old Gulley will be well pleased."
"So you can actually see and hear these things?" Kate shook her head with awe.
“All I get is a vague inkling that someone's there… and sometimes the slight impression of words. You're really lucky you know."
"I'm not so sure about that. I'm beginning to learn it comes with a lot of responsibility."
"Doesn't everything?" replied Kate with a wink.
"I guess so." Moon picked up his drink and turned to find himself another seat. A middle-aged couple in biking leathers had taken the table by the window.
"Just out of interest..." Kate placed her hand on Moon's arm. "What exactly were you talking to our ghosts about?"
Moon didn't think it was right mention Uri's interest in Dominic's murder at this time so he decided to tell Kate half the truth. "Something's hurting them, the spirits I mean. It drains them like a glass of wine and leaves only the tiniest dregs of existence behind - so they've come to me for help and, for the life of me, I couldn't turn them away."
"Sounds like you have something of a calling if you ask me."
"Sonia told me something similar yesterday." Moon shook his head. "I wasn't so sure about it back then, but I'm beginning to think I haven't got a choice."
Kate smiled a knowing smile. "Oh, there's always a choice. But those touched by the gods usually find out that it's much better to go with the flow than fight it after the first few attempts." She looked up the bar to where a group of men in overalls had congregated; one of them was waving a ten-pound note. "Damn, customers!" she said sotto voce. "We must talk about this again sometime when I'm not stuck working behind the bar. See ya later, Moon."
Moon left the Hangman's Rest at about four o'clock. It was pointless for him to head back home if he was going to get to Sonia's for tea at six. So he decided to pop into the town centre to get himself a bit of exercise and do some window-shopping. As he passed what he would now forever more think of as 'Gallows Alley' he gave in to a compulsion to take a few steps into the entrance and have a quick look. Nothing remained to show that a corpse had lain there. The police had obviously been and gone, leaving not even a shred of incident tape to mark their passing. "Returning to the scene of the crime, Mr Moon?"
Moon turned towards the voice with a start. "Er, no, sorry, I just couldn't avoid thinking about what I saw here last time I passed, Inspector."
"No need to look so alarmed, Sir," replied Detective Inspector Whatley. For it was he, standing at the entrance of the alley wearing what appeared to be exactly the same shirt, tie and wrinkled suit he had worn on Saturday night. "You've a firm alibi for the time of the murder, which we've estimated happened some time between ten p.m. last Wednesday and two a.m. on Thursday morning. Mr Llewellyn's body was then taken from the place where he was murdered and deposited here in the alley some time in the early hours on Thursday. According to your statement, which we've verified with other members of staff at the hospital, you were busy saving lives in Casualty at the time." Whatley looked down at the cobbles of the empty alley. "Bloody strange case, this one, Mr Moon, could make a body start believing in fairy tales."
The ghost of Dominic materialised out of the shadows of the alleyway and floated indistinctly in the afternoon sunlight. "Hi, Moon, is this what they've decided to put on my case? He looks a bit iffy to me." Whatley shook his head as if he was being buzzed by an annoying insect.
"How do you mean, Inspector?" asked Moon, trying not to make eye contact with Dominic, who was flicking Whatley's right earlobe with a ghostly fingernail.
"Well, you remember you mentioned the lack of blood on the scene on Saturday night, Sir?" Whatley quickly put his hand to his ear and looked round.
Moon suppressed a grin and nodded. "When you've seen as many trauma cases as I have you know how much a wound like the one in Dominic's neck can bleed."
"Yes, the autopsy shows that the deceased's body was almost completely drained of blood. That bite wound on the neck is also very odd - it's not consistent with any known type of animal. We thought at first that it was probably rats but whatever made it was much larger and the bite pattern most closely resembles that of some kind of anthropoid, that's an ape to you and me."
Or possibly something closer to human, like a vampire, thought Moon.
"Bring that together with some of the rumours we've heard since we've started investigating Mr Llewellyn's death and it makes you start to wonder if there isn't something, well... supernatural about it all."
"Too damn right!" agreed Dominic, "Me!"
"Sorry, Mr Moon, did you say something?"
"What kind of rumours, Inspector?" asked Moon, pretending to repeat himself. He was fairly sure he knew the answer to his question but he wanted to hear it from Whatley's mouth. The detective was obviously more than a little disturbed by what he had discovered for him to reveal key evidence to a member of the pu
blic. Perhaps he thought Moon's journalistic research might throw more light on the matter. It could of course, but Moon didn't think this was the time to reveal the truth about Uri and the girls.
"Well, there's some suggestion that there might be a vampire or vampires involved. The source is unfortunately not a very reliable one but I was thinking it doesn't have to be a real vampire, just some lunatic who thinks he’s one. You might not think it likely but there have been one or two vampire- inspired murder in this country in the past. It's a very popular type of fiction and you only have to look on the Internet to find how many nutters there are out there who think they're the real McCoy. Have you encountered anyone like that in your journalistic endeavours, Mr Moon? I expect a few of these Goth types would go in for that sort of thing."
"A vampire? I wish!" Dominic shook his head sadly and spread his vaporous arms out wide. "Just look at me! And I'm stuck in this bloody alley until someone solves my murder."
"I haven't met anyone who thinks they're a vampire since I started my research. There are plenty of Goths who like playing at being vampires, even Sonia, my girlfriend, has some fake fangs that she wears to concerts. I have heard some of the rumours you mentioned but it seems that they were started by one of the local Goth bands to add credibility to their mystique."
"That would be Uri Kievich and his two lady friends? What do they call their group?"
"Blood Velvet," replied Moon. "I've heard one of their albums, they're very good."
"Uri? No, it wouldn't have been Uri. He's an old friend of the family," cried Dominic.
"So you're sure that's all it is, a publicity stunt?" asked Whatley, fiddling irritably with one of his ears.
Moon wasn't happy with lying to the police but if he told the truth at best he'd be drawn into this horrible business much more deeply than he wanted to be. If the worst happened, he could end up struggling to prove his own sanity. "Yes, I interviewed Uri last night and he told me all about the game they play with their fans. It's all just harmless fun."
Under a Ghostly Moon (Jerry Moon Supernatural Thrillers Book 1) Page 10