The Ghost of Robert Brown: A Mystery Novel

by P. Wish

  “Did you know he was depressed?”

  “No. He was always so quiet. It was difficult to say. I found out after he died when Dr. Daniels told the detective about it,” Tim said with downcast eyes. “I feel sorry about it.”

  Tim looked down.

  “Thank you. You’ve been very helpful,” Detective Myers said. A slight smile touched Tim’s lips.

  “I don’t care about it anymore. I hope you find the person I saw that night. I think it would help easy my conscience a little.”

  Detective Myers nodded. Tim stood up.

  “What do you think happened to the person who pushed Robert?” he asked.

  “I don’t know. I haven’t been to St. Anne’s since the incident,” Tim said, grabbing his bag from the bench.

  “Do you think this person might still be at St. Anne’s?”

  “I doubt it, but you never know. Everybody’s circumstances are different,” Tim said with a vacuous expression.

  “Thank you,” he said after clearing his throat. “That will be all for today.”

  “Will you be coming again?” he asked.

  “I don’t think there is any need to meet again,” Detective Myers said. “But if I do, I’ll let you know. May I have your phone number?”

  Tim nodded and wrote it down for Detective Myers.

  “Tim, have you ever spoken about this to anyone before?”

  Tim hesitated.

  “Who?”

  “Robert’s father.”

  “When?”

  “He met me a while ago….three years ago, I think. It was very unexpected. He showed up at the school I transferred to. I wanted to get rid of him but he said he knew what happened that night and just wanted to confirm it. He strongly believed that Robert hadn’t committed suicide. He knew about the lake incident that night. I was so scared back then that I confessed to everything I saw. He connected the dots. I thought he deserved to know what happened.”

  “Did he have anybody he suspected?”

  “He didn’t say anything about that. I didn’t ask. I was really scared to face him.”

  They walked towards the main building.

  “I forgot to ask,” Detective Myers said. Tim raised his eyebrows. “What do you think about the ghost of Robert Brown?”

  “I don’t believe in ghosts,” he said before disappearing into the white building.

  ***

  On his way back to Tenterden, Gary’s phone rang.

  “Hello?”

  “Hey, it’s Larry. I’ve got some news.”

  “You found ‘One o’Clock’ yet?” Detective Myers asked, referring to the mysterious caller who had phoned Mr. Greene on the day of his death.

  “No, but I found some interesting messages on the victim’s computer.”

  “Go on.”

  “I’ve been looking through his Internet browsing history. Are you traveling?”

  “I’m on the train.”

  “Train? Where to?”

  “Tenterden. It’s a long story. What about the computer?”

  “I forgot to mention this last time, but we found an electronic version of his suicide note on the computer. The exact same words with no signature.”

  “That’s interesting.”

  “That’s not all. He’d been sending messages to somebody using the computer.”

  “What messages?”

  “I think you should read them. I forwarded them to you.”

  “I’ll get to them when I get back to Tenterden,” Detective Myers said. “What did he write in those messages?”

  “He’s been sending messages using an anonymous username to the one o’ clock person. Messages like ‘I know what you did to Robert’; ‘I want everybody to know what you did that night.’”

  “Creepy.”

  “Exactly,” Larry said. “It looks like a case of stalking. Do you have any records of reported cases in the last…ummm…year?”

  “I doubt the one o’ clock person reported the incidents. Remember, this person has a secret.”

  “Now I know why they changed their phone number,” Larry said. “I’d do the same if a creepy guy were sending me those messages.”

  “Do you think One o’Clock planned to strangle the guy when they met?”

  “I wonder. It must’ve caused a lot of stress. People do all sorts of things when they’re under pressure. You and I have seen a lot of those cases.”

  “You think this one’s one of those loss-of-control cases?”

  “We don’t know anything for sure, but it seems like a plausible angle. So, where did you go?”

  “Greenwich.”

  “Greenwich? Whatever did you go there for?”

  “A witness.”

  “Ah. A new witness. And what did this witness say?”

  “Some very interesting things.” Gary looked at the old man seated across from him. He was asleep. The lady next to him was reading a book. “I don’t think I can discuss them on a train.”

  “How did you find this new witness?”

  “Jane told me.”

  “Jane did, huh?”

  “Larry, wipe that smirk off your face.”

  “I was right. You should’ve asked her to help from the beginning.”

  “She was reluctant, but I think she’s warmed up to the idea.”

  “That’s good. Well, let me know when you get the messages. I gotta go.”

  “Bye.”

  ***

  Gary got back to the office to find his inbox flooded with messages.

  One by one, he began reading through them.

  I know you killed Robert Brown.

  I know what you did that night.

  I’m going to tell the world what you did to Robert.

  How could you do this to him?

  All sins will be repaid.

  He looked at the dates at the bottom of each of the messages. They were all sent on a Sunday. Sunday? He wondered if that had any significance. Robert hadn’t died on a Sunday and neither had Mr. Greene. They’d both died on a Friday. Mr. Greene had been sending these messages once a month starting three years ago. No message was sent in April 2001, but two were sent in March 2002, the month before his death. There had been three replies—one in December 2001, one in January 2002 and one in March 2002. Gary scrolled to the replies.

  Who are you?

  Why are you doing this to me?

  We need to meet.

  Three very apt and revealing messages. So the killer and Mr. Greene had met. They must’ve decided the details on the phone. But why would you call your stalker? And more importantly, why would he answer?

  Larry had attached Mr. Greene’s phone log at the bottom of the email. Lots of correspondences but nothing of note.

  Detective Myers finished reading the log and leaned back in his chair. He stared at the wall clock, which read 4:30 p.m. It was time for a smoke break.

  Detective Myers stepped out of the office and lit his cigarette. The two rays of sunshine he’d seen that morning had been lost to the dark night sky. The air was chilly. A puff of smoke rose in the air. Nothing like nicotine to breathe some life into you. His tiredness vanished. Detective Myers checked his phone. Three missed calls. All three were from Jane. Jane was ferocious once she was on a case. He called her. The phone rang twice before she answered.

  “How did it go?”

  “Jane, I’m at work and I shouldn’t be giving out information.”

  “Answer yes or no. Did he see somebody that night?”

  “Yes.”

  “Who?”

  “Rephrase.”

  “Could he identify who he saw?”

  “No.”

  “Height? Weight? Gender?”

  “Five-six to five-eight. Unknown. Unknown.”

  “Even the gender’s unknown? But five-six to five-eight eliminates both the women, doesn’t it?”

  “Yes.”

  “I guess that’s helpful. Did he know Mr. Greene?”

  “No.”
<
br />   “Did he know of anyone who knew that Robert couldn’t swim?”

  “No.”

  “But Tim says nobody knew. Could it have been … accidental?”

  “Yes.”

  “Yes? That’s what Tim thought?”

  “Yes.”

  “Okay. What else? Anything about the bullying?”

  “Ask me another question.”

  “Was Tim the one who bullied Robert?”

  “Yes.”

  “His reason?”

  “Jealousy.”

  “Jealousy? About what?”

  “Hmmm…”

  “Did he know about the depression?”

  “No.”

  “Did he know about the diary?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did he know Mrs. Wolverhampton had it?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did he ask her to get it?”

  “Ummm…yes.”

  “You hesitated.”

  “Long answer.”

  “And he left school because…?”

  “You’re not asking the right question.”

  “Because he didn’t want to be found out?”

  “Yes.”

  “By whom? By the killer?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did he explain why?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good. I need to hear what he said.”

  “When? Where?”

  “Tomorrow. You decide the time and place.”

  “You’ll have it figured out by then.”

  “I think I already have, but I look forward to seeing you.”

  “To discuss your theory?”

  “Yes.”

  “I think I know what it is by now,” Detective Myers said. “Any other questions?”

  “How was Greenwich?”

  “I braved the journey. That’s all I have to say. Early mornings on the train don’t agree with my stomach.”

  “Are you working on the case right now?”

  “I am.”

  “What’s that? Your voice sounds raspy. Have you been smoking?”

  “That’s what I do.”

  “You gotta stop that. They say it causes cancer.”

  “I’ll be too old by the time I get it.”

  “So you say. What about the phone messages? Did you find out who called?”

  “No.”

  “But you have some other information?”

  “Yes.”

  “See you tomorrow.”

  “See you. Bye.”

  Detective Myers walked back to his desk and placed the phone on it. His colleague walked up to him.

  “Gary, this letter came for you today morning,” he said, handing him an envelope.

  “Thank you,” Detective Myers said. The white envelope had the police seal embossed on it. He already knew what was in there.

  He opened it and read through the contents. It was his official transfer letter. He was leaving Tenterden for Liverpool as soon as his term ended, and that was in two weeks. Detective Myers smoothed out the letter and placed it on the table.

  “Congrats on the transfer, mate,” Jimmy said as he put on his coat and left the office.

  “Thanks,” Gary said. He had asked for this transfer, but the timing was terrible.

  He sighed and shoved the letter into the drawer. He had two weeks to wrap up the case. And to say goodbye. He needed another cigarette.

  Chapter 9

  In his eyes, I see who I really am. I bury the lies I’ve told myself. I burn the promises of happiness. I dissolve all expectations of the future. His eyes are as blank as the wall- no familiarity, no recognition, no emotion. Because to him, that is what I am. Nothing.

  —Robert Brown

  Tuesday, April 23, 2002

  That morning, Jane heard a knock at 6:30 a.m. When she heard the first knock, she thought it was a part of her vivid dream. However, the second knock was harder. It jolted her awake, and her sleep-deprived eyes looked around at the silent room, searching for any trace of abnormality. She turned to the alarm clock. It was only 6:30 a.m. Who could it be?

  Annoyed and sleepy, she walked to the door and opened it. Detective Myers stood at the door with a cup of coffee in his hand.

  “Good morning,” he said dryly. Jane sighed. Gary Myers was determined not to let her sleep.

  “It’s only six thirty,” she said, annoyed.

  “It gets crowded after seven,” he said. “You said the students were talking about our meetings.”

  Detective Myers passed a cup of coffee to her. The fresh aroma awakened her tired senses. She gazed at the bright light that infiltrated the blinds. She opened them, succumbing to a blast of daylight.

  “So, you came to my room at six-thirty?” Jane asked. She grabbed the coffee and said, “Wait here. I’ll be out in a minute.”

  Ten minutes later, Jane walked out wearing a pair of jeans and a coat. “Let’s go.”

  “Where are you planning to go at six forty in the morning?” Gary Myers asked.

  “Anywhere but here.”

  Jane looked out to see if anybody was awake. The sun hadn’t risen yet. It was dark outside. She hurriedly walked down the corridor and descended the stairs. Detective Myers followed her.

  “Where’s your car?” she asked.

  “Right there,” he said, pointing to his car parked next to the teachers’ dorm.

  “That’s a no-parking area,” Jane said as she headed towards the car. Detective Myers opened the door. Jane got into the car and slipped on her seat belt.

  “Where do you wanna go?” Detective Myers said, starting the engine.

  “You’re the expert on all things Tenterden,” Jane said. “What’s open at seven in the morning?”

  “If I remember, the Costa Coffee on High Street opens at seven.”

  “That’s where we’re going, then,” Jane said, drinking her coffee.

  “But you’ve already had your coffee.”

  “There’s no such thing as too much coffee,” Jane said.

  In a few minutes, they were at Costa Coffee, but the door was still closed. Gary looked at his watch. “It’s supposed to open in…seven minutes.”

  “We’ll wait.”

  Gary and Jane walked to the corner of the shop. “So, what’s your theory?” Detective Myers asked.

  “Mr. Greene planned the murder,” Jane said. She sipped some coffee.

  “Whose?”

  “His own.”

  Before Detective Myers could say anything, the cafe door opened, accompanied by the sound of a chiming bell. The middle-aged owner stood at the door in his white shirt, smiling at both of them.

  “We’re open, folks. Come on in,” the friendly owner said.

  “Thank you. I was freezing out here!” Jane said, walking into the coffee shop. The owner put up an open sign while Jane and Gary walked in. The coffee shop was quiet. It smelled of coffee but there was nobody except Jane and Gary in the cafe. The waitress was busy shoving plates of food into the display area.

  “That looks good,” Jane said to the waitress. “One ham Emmental croissant and one Americano.”

  Gary sat at a two-seater table by the window. “You’re not getting anything?” Jane asked.

  “No. I’m fine,” Gary said. “So, let me hear about this interesting theory of yours.”

  “It goes like this,” Jane said. The scenery outside had gotten brighter since they left. Sunlight broke through the dark horizon, scattering rays in all directions. “I think Mr. Greene planned the whole thing.”

  Jane stopped when she heard footsteps. The waitress stopped by and placed her coffee and croissant on the table. “Thank you,” she muttered. Sipping some of her coffee, Jane turned to Gary. “I began to suspect that after I heard that the knife was stolen from the kitchen. Mr. Greene borrowed it. Mr. Greene could’ve taken it, for all we know. The dining hall was crowded at that time and nobody would’ve noticed.”

  “Go on.”

  “That’s not all. Think of the su
icide note that was found in his room. It was in his handwriting. Did you find the note in the dustbin by any chance?”

  “Yes.”

  “It was a draft. He must’ve thrown it away and forgotten to take out trash before the incident.”

  “Actually, it was in the bag of trash that had been disposed of. I found it in the garbage.”

  “So he did dispose of it. He appears to be a detail-oriented sort.”

  “So, you’re saying he wrote the note intending it to be found in somebody else’s room?”

  “Did you look through the files on his computer?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did he have a similar note saved in there?”

  “Actually, he did,” Detective Myers said, blinking. “But I never…never mind, go on.”

  “That was the one he intended to place in the killer’s room. All of it was planned to be exactly like Robert’s death.”

  “The Prozac too.”

  Jane nodded. “He deliberately made it appear as if it were in use so that the detective would predict suicide. By leaving a suicide note confessing to guilt, Mr. Greene would be able to tell the whole world who the real killer was.”

  “He must’ve planned to put it there after the murder. Nobody would be out at that hour of the night, so that would give him more freedom.” Jane drank some more coffee. “Too sweet,” she said.

  “But tell me, if he planned the whole thing as meticulously as you say, why did he end up being killed instead?”

  “It was an accident,” Jane said. “I suspect a sudden reaction; one that he didn’t expect. The murderer must’ve been stronger than him physically. There were defensive marks on his arms. He was strangled. The real killer came prepared to kill him.”

  “Why do you think they met?”

  “Mr. Greene must’ve wanted to meet this person. He had been working on his revenge for a while. I don’t know why, but I have a feeling it was somebody who knew him well.”

  “It was definitely someone from the school,” Detective Myers said.

  “Nobody else would have access to the lake,” Jane added with a nod. “Have you managed to access Mr. Greene’s phone?”