by Alexie Aaron
“Our Shelia is headed for college. My wife is very upset, but I promised her we would see our daughter as much as Shelia will allow.”
“Good luck with that.”
“I heard you finally got your brother back on track.”
“I thought so, but it seems he’s following in my footsteps.”
“Oh dear, this sounds serious,” Pavel said, handing Patrick a scotch.
Patrick waited until the man sat down before explaining, “He’s working for a group that investigates paranormal occurrences. I guess you could call them ghost hunters. In an investigation, he came across a small hoard of valuables. He’s curious about their value.”
“Came across, as in stolen?”
“Stolen is such a strong word. Taken is better. The owner of the house has no idea these valuables were there. The house was recently bought, and I doubt if she would win the ownership over the found valuables if it came to a trial. Don’t worry, he’s not robbing a little old lady.”
“What are we talking about, books, paintings, gold?”
“Jewels, books, and fifty of these,” Patrick said, sliding his hand into his pocket and handing over a small plastic bag to Pavel.
“May I?” he asked, indicating he wanted to look at the coin outside the bag.
“Please.”
Pavel’s slender fingers extracted the coin. He took out his eye piece and studied the coin. “Gold, 1787, and in remarkable condition. What else was there?”
Patrick typed into his phone, and Pavel pulled out his phone and opened the email.
“Were these jewels found in anything unusual?”
“An old wood box. Look at picture six.”
“Ah. I think your brother has a remarkable find on his hands. I may have a buyer for you, but he wants all of the pieces, including the old books.”
“That’s very unusual. Usually, we break up a stash…”
“No, it’s very important that nothing is missing. I will speak to my contact and get back to you.”
“Can you give me an idea of what kind of reward we’re talking about?” Patrick asked.
“Three, four million dollars. He’ll want to negotiate. I’ll also need to authenticate the coin before presenting it to him. I’ll take my usual twenty-five percent.”
“Of course. Don’t wait too long. My brother wasn’t born under a patient sign.”
As Patrick left the shop, he put on his sunglasses and slipped the earcom in his ear. He passed Sabine who was toting several large shopping bags.
“You have two ghosts tailing you from the shop,” Ted said in his ear. “One of them is Skinny, so continue on to the Marriott.”
Patrick walked down to the forty-six-floor hotel and walked through the lobby, nodding to the desk clerk as he approached the elevators.
“Your tails are standing on either side of you,” Ted said.
Bernard walked up. “Patrick!” he said, extending his hand.
“Dr. Wesley, how long has it been?” Patrick asked.
“Too long. You wouldn’t have time for a coffee would you?”
Patrick looked at his watch. “Sure, my next meeting isn’t for a few hours.”
“I found this amazing place that serves Turkish coffee. It’s just around the corner.”
“Lead on,” Patrick said.
The two conversed about Bernard’s latest acquisition for the museum as they left the hotel by a rear door and down an alley.
Skinny moved in tandem with his new partner Damian. Their job was to follow the man to where he was keeping the prize. So far, nothing alerted them that anything out of the ordinary was happening. They followed them into a small coffee shop and through the open door. The doors were closed behind them by two youths dressed as waiters. Skinny was so focused on Patrick that he didn’t hear the pitcher of salt being poured across the threshold. The lighting was low and hypnotic. Soon Skinny felt his anger leave him, and then his purpose for being there didn’t seem to matter anymore.
A rather plump waitress approached Patrick and Bernard. She was wearing a colorful caftan loosely belted above her waist. Her sleeves were long and her head covered with a scarf. She smiled and nodded for them to exit out the back.
Skinny tried to follow but found he couldn’t cross through the curtained doorway. Damian sat down and put his feet up.
“Something’s not right,” Skinny said. “We have to get out of here!”
“But we’ve not had our coffee yet,” Damian answered.
The woman approached the pair. “Gentlemen, what can I get for you?”
“How can you see us?” Skinny asked, fighting the lethargy.
Mia pulled off the large headscarf and shook out her signature Nordic blonde hair. “Why, Skinny, you don’t remember me? True, I’ve put on weight but…”
Skinny backed away. Rough hands seized him from behind, and he was quickly frisked of the spectral weapons his brother went to great pains to secure for him. Fergus pocketed the two knives and handed over the icepick to Kevin.
Mia sat down at the table and put her hand out. “Sir, I believe you are carrying…”
Damian looked into the moss green eyes of the plump woman and smiled. He pulled out the revolver and his brass knuckles and set them on the table.
“And the knife,” Mia instructed.
The ghost blushed. “I had forgotten about it. Did anyone ever tell you that you have the most beautiful eyes?”
“Not in a while. Thank you, sir. You’re new around here.”
“Actually, I grew up on West 124th Street. It’s changed so much. Please call me Damian.”
“Where did Skinny’s brother dig you up?”
“Cedar Park. Mr. Grant said he had some business I’d be interested in.”
“David Grant?” Mia asked, putting her hand on the ghost’s.
“No, Norman Grant.”
“Norman… I’m sorry, but I don’t know any Norman Grant.”
“Between you and me, ma’am, it’s an alias.”
“Oh dear. Damian, you’re not up to no good are you?”
“Burglary was my specialty.”
“Mia, his name is Damian DeForte. His mother buried him at Cedar Park. Her name… Doris,” Ted said in her ear.
“Doris would be heartbroken, tsk tsk.”
“It’s not by choice,” he said quickly. “Norman has my skull.”
“How horrible! Why didn’t you go into the light when you had the chance?” Mia asked Damian.
“How’d you know about the light?” he asked, surprised.
“There is always a light. Well, it doesn’t come sometimes. Is this what happened to you?”
“I wanted to make amends first,” Damian said.
Mia nodded. She patted his hand. “I have an idea how you can do that. Why don’t you sit here and enjoy this beautiful light,” she said, lifting the shade off the large coral-colored salt lamp. Mia got up and walked over to Skinny. She motioned for Kevin and Fergus to leave. Patrick let them out and reconnected the salt line.
“I know you!” Skinny said, backing away.
Mia withdrew an all too familiar switchblade from her pocket. “I thought we had already established that. Is this yours, Skinny?”
“Give that here!” he demanded.
“I’m afraid I can’t do that. We have some unfinished business to discuss first.”
“I’m not telling you anything, so don’t waste your time,” Skinny said.
“Fine. Skinny, I condemn you to walk in the Dark World. Alone. Without ever touching or speaking to another soul.”
“You can’t do that!” he snarled.
“No, but they can,” Mia said, motioning to the two large hands that appeared on either side of the ghost. “Had you repented, had you made some kind of amends, they wouldn’t be here. But no, you have repeatedly harmed the most vulnerable of humans. Killed some before taking their valuables. Things that they were going to leave to their grandchildren. Tsk tsk.”
Mia
tossed Skinny his knife and stepped back, putting a proprietary hand on Damian’s shoulder.
Skinny faced off against the reapers. His fighting only made them happier to do their job. One disarmed him. The other grew large and squeezed its fingers around the ghost until there was nothing left. One of the large hands pointed at Damian.
“He would like to make amends. Thank you for coming,” Mia said.
The two hands disappeared. Mia kept her hand on Damian. “Sit very still.”
Soon another hand moved quickly through the place and followed its compatriots into the void.
The third hand always unnerved Mia. According to lore, it was to make sure she wasn’t being influenced against her will, but Mia sensed that if she wasn’t alert, it would take her too. Reapers didn’t reason, they just acted. Otherwise, how would have Father Santos ended up briefly in the Dark World?
Mia pulled out a chair and sat down across from Damian.
“What were those things?” he asked.
“Reapers. They take the unrepentant to a very dark and lonely place. Some people prefer to suffer in hell rather than be locked in a place where there is no kind of contact.”
“Are you going to send me there?”
“Me? No. Unless you double cross me. Damian, I can get your skull back, and you can greet the light. I imagine Doris is there waiting for you, but I need you to help me out first. Do you think you can do this?”
“Yes. You’ve been square with me. I’ll be square with you,” Damian said honestly.
“I’m looking for something of great value that was taken from a house in Big Bear Lake…”
“We didn’t take anything but that irritating ghost Edwin,” Damian said and realized. “You want that blustering old fool back?”
“Yes, I do. Why was he taken?”
“They don’t tell me stuff like that.”
“They?”
“Norman Grant and Pavel Matveev.”
“So they are working together. This surprises me.”
“Norman has Pavel’s daughter.”
Ted fed Mia her name, “Shelia.”
“He has Shelia?”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
“Where?”
“In the same place he has Edwin.”
“Can you take me to this place?”
“We wouldn’t survive. He has six other ghosts like me.”
“What if we drew them away from this place, what are our odds?” Mia asked.
“I don’t know.”
“Tell you what. Why don’t you tell me what you know, and I’ll determine what our chances are?”
Damian nodded and spoke, “In Big Bear Lake Cemetery, there is a mausoleum I can’t get into. It’s guarded by the men who were entombed there. This is where they are interrogating Edwin. Attached to the mausoleum is an old chapel. This is where Shelia is being held prisoner.”
“Who are her captors?”
“Norman and a woman he called Gloria. She can see me.”
“She’s a sensitive like Norman?”
“Yes, like you.”
“When are you supposed to report back?”
“As soon as we know where the treasure is being kept.”
“Damian, if I promise to get your skull back and to keep the reapers away from you, will you help us? It would go a long way towards making amends,” Mia told him.
“Yes, Ma’am, I would.”
“Good.”
“What do you have in mind, Minnie Mouse?” Ted asked.
“I think I’ll visit the Countess and let her know what is going on in her neighborhood.”
“I think that is an excellent idea,” Ted said.
Chapter Thirty-seven
Murphy helped Mia over the fence. They came this way, as it was the quickest route to the Countess, and hopefully, it wouldn’t alert any of the spies Norman, aka Edward Jones, had in place.
Mia held on to a pot of a hybrid rose called Smokin’ Hot. She thought that the Countess would appreciate the fiery-red blooms with white on the underside of the petals. She waited a respectable distance away from the Deschamps mausoleum while Murphy tapped on the granite with his axe.
The lock sprang open, and the gates moved outward as the door moved inward. The serial murderess Mary Sue Deschamps moved elegantly out of the marble tomb. Her demeanor paid justice to her self-appointed moniker of the Countess.
Mia placed the potted rose on the ground before her. “I thought you may want to add this to your collection.”
“Daphne, you shouldn’t have.”
Mia inwardly cringed hearing the Countess call her Daphne, but she would let it go for the sake of saving Edwin and Shelia. “How is Maurice?”
“He’s resting. He isn’t as strong since we moved his remains.”
“Perhaps I should ask Andy to bring over some of the earth from his old grave site?”
“No, don’t go to any trouble. I like him weaker. This way I can keep an eye on him.”
Mia nodded.
“You’re getting fat, Daphne,” the Countess observed.
“I’m pregnant with my second son,” she reminded the ghost.
“Oh, yes. Another boy? Take a lover next time, so you can have a girl,” the ghost advised.
Murphy dropped his axe.
“You’re too provincial farmer,” the Countess said dryly.
Mia’s eyes twinkled. She liked seeing Murphy shocked.
“Out with it, Daphne. Why are you here? You just visited me a month ago.”
“I’m too transparent…”
The Countess faded. “No, dear, this is transparent. You’re just a bad liar.”
Mia nodded. “K. It has come to my attention that there are hijinks going on in this graveyard that you may not be aware of.”
“Go on,” the Countess said, fingering the delicate blooms of a rose.
Mia told her the whole story, starting with the ghost-napping of Edwin Gifford.
The Countess put her hand on her chest. “This is an abomination. And you say they are here?”
“Back in the Lutheran section where the old chapel is.”
“The Heinz tomb! Those Heinz boys never did have any wits.”
“We think that they are being made to do this by a master manipulator of spiritual beings.”
“The hell you say. This is why I hid my bones.”
“No, you hid your bones from me.”
“That too. Daphne, you take after me all too well. What would you like me to do?”
Murphy smiled as Mia moved closer. She whispered her idea in the old ghost’s ear. The woman nodded and smiled. “How vicious can I be?”
“In regards to Edward Jones, as vicious as you want. I wouldn’t be opposed to you tossing him down to the di inferi. After all, he has been messing around with the remains of the dead.”
“Daphne, you have become cruel.”
“He has defrauded and stolen from older people. He’s had his brother Skinny kill for him. He’s used ghosts against their will, all for money.”
“What about this Skinny?” the Countess asked.
“I already took care of him. He’ll not be bothering any living or dead thing anymore.”
The Countess moved her boney hands up and down her arms as if she had just felt a chill. “Alright, I agree to do what you have asked me to do.”
“Thank you, Countess. I will not forget this,” Mia said and left.
Murphy stayed a moment longer, giving Mia a chance to leave the graveyard unmolested. He stared at the Countess and she at him.
“Farmer, never mess with a pregnant woman,” she advised and walked back in her tomb.
~
The PEEPs team, plus Patrick and Sabine, were sitting in the large library area of the aerie. The office didn’t have as much room as was needed to include humans, a superhuman, and ghosts.
Cid and Lazar managed to put out quite a buffet spread between them. Bea brought over a few pies. She almost dropped them when Ed walked down th
e stairs.
“He’s beautiful,” she said under her breath.
“And taken,” Cid quickly said.
Burt clapped his hands to get everyone’s attention. “I’d like to get this meeting started. We’ll have plenty of time for socialization and food after,” he said. “This investigation started off as a missing person case and has turned into so much more. Let’s present the facts as we know them, and then come together to find our best course of action.” Burt sat down.
Mia, although distracted by the smell of baked beans, was the first to speak. “Before we work on how to rescue Edwin Gifford and Shelia Matveev, I’d like you all to indulge me and listen to a story. Jake will show you pictures as I tell it.”
Mia looked around for any dissenters but happily saw that everyone was interested.
“Once upon a time, there was a young woman named Rachel Schmidt. She was born in Carlisle, Pennsylvania to a devoted Presbyterian family. Rachel was always drawn to the harbor. Whether it was the call of the sea or something else, she frequently found herself wandering along the waterfront. One day, she was attacked by a gang of local girls and was saved by George Wall. They fell in love and quickly married, much to the disappointment of Rachel’s parents.”
“The couple moved to Boston. There they became acquainted with experienced sailors and their girlfriends. We’re not sure who initiated the idea, but this group of young adults decided to rob unsuspecting shipboard merchants. They were very successful, and Rachel may very well have been the first American woman to become a pirate. Their modus operandi was to wait for a storm to pass and disguise their ship as a wreck under distress. When a ship would come near to investigate, Rachel would call out for help. The valiant sailors would come to her aid and be surprised by the pirates. This worked well, and yet, it was their undoing. George, in preparation for another trap, sailed out after a storm and was surprised as the storm turned back on him. His ship was damaged beyond repair, and he and the crew were washed out to sea.”
“Rachel, who had been hiding out, working as a maid at the time, was left a widow. She missed the thrill of being a pirate and eventually returned to a life of crime by robbing women of their jewelry on land. She was caught, tried, and hung. I believe she was the last woman hung in Massachusetts.”