The First Church

by Ron Ripley

Brian shook his head. “Man was tough.”

  “He was indeed,” Luke agreed.

  “Is he here?” Reverend Joe asked, looking around. He seemed uncomfortable. It was as though the idea of the dead being anywhere other than Heaven was extremely upsetting.

  “I don’t know,” Brian said, looking around. And then he stopped.

  A ghost stood off to one side. He wore a Marine Corps uniform, and he looked to be about fifty years old. The dead man looked steadily at Brian.

  “You can see me,” the ghost said.

  “I can,” Brian answered.

  “You’re looking for someone,” the dead man continued.

  “I am,” Brian agreed.

  “Who?”

  “Jonathan Boyd,” Brian said.

  The ghost’s eyes widened slightly. “Well, you found him, boy. What do you want with me?”

  “We need help,” Brian said.

  Jonathan Boyd looked at the others, who gazed intently at Brian, yet said nothing. Then Boyd asked, “Who are they?”

  “The one with the collar is Reverend Joe Malleus,” Brian said. “He’s the Reverend over at the First Congregationalist Church. The teenager, his name’s Jim Bogue. His grandfather, there, well, you know him. He’s Luke Allen.”

  Jonathan looked at Luke, took a step closer and asked in a low voice, “Why’s he blind?”

  “Luke,” Brian said.

  “Yes?” Luke answered.

  “Mr. Boyd would like to know why you’re blind,” Brian said.

  The dead Marine shimmered slightly, and from the simultaneous gasp from the Reverend and Jim, Brian knew the ghost had made himself visible.

  “Hello, boy,” Jonathan said. “You’re not a boy anymore.”

  “No,” Luke said, smiling, “I’m not, sir.”

  “Still polite, though,” Jonathan said, nodding. “So, rather than have a go-between, you want to tell me what happened to your eyes?”

  “Mr. Boyd,” Luke said. “Enemy sniper. The bullet passed clean through one eye and out the other. One of the neatest shots the doctors had ever seen. They had to rebuild my nose, though.”

  Jim looked at his grandfather with surprise.

  Jonathan nodded. “I’m sorry to hear it, Luke. I’m glad you’re not dead. You’ve enjoyed life?”

  "I have," Luke said.

  “Good, boy, good,” Jonathan said. “Now listen, we’ll see each other again, and I mean see. You get everything back when you go. We’ll swap war stories then, and you can tell me whether you came to love it or not.”

  “I look forward to it, sir,” Luke replied in a low voice.

  “Me, too, Luke. Me, too.” Jonathan turned his attention back to Brian. “You need my help?”

  “Yes, sir,” Brian said. “We’ve got a couple of headless Japanese soldiers who are pretty upset.”

  “Just two of them?” Jonathan asked with a chuckle. “Usually, all six get worked up at the same time. Well, the best thing to do is get them some saké and heat it up. And why are they headless? Last thing those boys like to do is go around without their heads.”

  “We were hoping you could tell us,” Brian said. “See, we don’t know where the heads are.”

  “They’re in my war room,” Jonathan said, frowning. “All of the skulls are.”

  “Sir, your war room was cleaned out when you died. No one knows anything about the skulls,” Brian said. “In fact, up until a couple of days ago, the headless men haven’t even made a noise.”

  “It means someone’s moved them around,” Jonathan said, a mask of anger dropping onto his face. “Someone’s been playing with their skulls. Find the skulls, get some saké out, and you’ll be able to quiet the boys down. Best to do it quick, too. They get real angry, real easy.”

  “How do we find the skulls?” Brian asked.

  Jonathan looked at him for a moment, as though he were the stupidest person the dead man had ever met. And at the end of the stare, Brian felt exactly like he was.

  “You’ve got to look, boy,” Jonathan said. “You’ve got to look. And make it quick. The longer they wait, the angrier they’ll be. And when they get angry, well, they get mean.”

  “Yeah,” Brian said softly, sighing. “Yeah. We figured the last part out.”

  Chapter 21: Forced to Wait

  Miles had seen the Reverend leave home much earlier than usual, and he knew he had an opportunity to get into the Church again.

  Within a few minutes, he had removed the third skull from the cabinet, packed it up, and made his way out the door. He walked steadily towards the Church. He kept his head up and his gaze focused on the horizon.

  He looked like someone hurrying to the bus stop to get to work.

  The weight in his pack reminded him he wasn’t.

  Miles had his work now. Special work. Work which needed to be done.

  It took him ten minutes to reach his car. He waited another three minutes to make sure he hadn’t been followed, and then he got into his car and made his way to the Church.

  He needed to do a drive by to make sure everything was safe.

  It wasn’t.

  There were police officers everywhere, and they directed traffic away from the Church.

  Something had happened. Something bad. And Miles knew it.

  At the first intersection he came to, he turned his car back towards its parking spot.

  He had to get home and get the skull back into its cabinet before Sato awoke.

  Sato didn’t like to be awoken.

  It was never good to be around when Sato was awake. Never.

  Chapter 22: In The Riverwalk Café

  “I’m sorry,” the Reverend said. “But should Jim really be here?”

  Before Brian could answer, Luke Allen spoke up.

  “Reverend,” he said politely. “He has just as much a right to be here as we do.”

  Reverend Joe cleared his throat nervously. “I apologize, Mr. Allen, I meant, is he old enough? Not if he has a right to be here.”

  “He’s old enough,” Brian said. He motioned for the waitress, Lisa, and the young woman came over. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Jim blush and look down at the table.

  “Hi Jim,” she said brightly.

  The teen’s eyes widened slightly as he straightened up and looked at her. “Hi, Lisa.”

  “Are you drinking coffee now?” she asked.

  “Yes,” Jim said. “Yes, I am.”

  “Cool,” she said, giving him a wink. “How do you like it?”

  “Black,” he answered.

  She looked at him and smiled. “Wow! I’m impressed. Most of the guys, who come in here, order iced coffees or add so much sugar and cream you can’t even recognize the coffee anymore.”

  Lisa turned her attention to the Reverend. “Hey Rev, spiced tea?”

  “Please, Lisa,” Reverend Joe answered.

  “And for you?” she asked, looking at Brian.

  “Black coffee,” Brian said.

  “I’ll have the same, young lady,” Allen said, smiling in her direction. The old man had his hands folded together on the table.

  “Three blacks and one spiced,” Lisa said, nodding her head. “Be back in a couple of minutes, gentlemen.”

  Jim watched her walk away.

  “Is she as pretty as she sounds?” Luke asked Jim.

  The young man blushed furiously. “Yes, grandpa.”

  “Older than you,” Luke added.

  “Yes,” Jim said, sighing.

  “Not by much, I’d wager,” Luke said. “Give it a year or two, James. You two will be good for each other.”

  The three of them looked at Luke curiously, and the old man must have felt it. He grinned and said, “Some things, you just know.”

  They stayed quiet for the few minutes it took for Lisa to get back with the drinks, but once she did, Reverend Joe spoke.

  “The skulls are in the Church,” he said, repeating what the ghost of Jonathan Boyd had told them. “We need to find them.”<
br />
  “Not only find them,” Brian said, “but we need to get saké as well.”

  “Where are we going to get saké?” Luke asked.

  Before Brian could answer, Jim asked a question, “What’s saké?”

  “Japanese rice liquor,” Brian said. “And I know where to get it. Most of the liquor stores carry it, but if they don’t, there’s a store down in Nashua which usually has a couple of different styles in stock. So, the saké problem is simply a logistics issue. The real concern I have is the church, the size of it. There are a lot of places where things can be hidden, or so I figure.”

  The Reverend nodded. “Lots and lots of places. The challenge, unfortunately, is seeing if we can find them before the ghosts attack someone else.”

  “Do you think,” Luke said, “we might be able to intercept them?”

  “How so?” Brian asked.

  “What if one of us, say myself, were to remain in the Church while we sought out the skulls and picked up the saké?” Luke asked.

  “The only issue I see with your idea,” Brian said, “is, unless I’m wrong here, you don’t speak Japanese?”

  “No,” Luke said with a frown. “I’d forgotten about the language barrier.”

  “Well,” Brian said. “I’ve asked around about Japanese speakers who aren’t afraid of ghosts, and I may have found someone. I’m hopeful the person will call.”

  “Could we close off the Church?” Jim asked in a low voice.

  Brian looked at him, as did the Reverend.

  “What do you mean, James?” Luke asked.

  “The ghosts attack people in or near the Church, right?” Jim asked.

  The men nodded in unison.

  “So, if that’s the case,” he continued, “why not close it down? Couldn’t we pretend there’s an issue with the Church and we can’t let anyone in?”

  “You’ve got a good head on your shoulders,” Brian said, nodding in appreciation. “What about it, Rev?”

  “Hm,” the Reverend said, rubbing his chin. “We have a couple of meetings scheduled, but obviously, nothing we can’t shunt aside to someone’s house. We could say there’s an issue with the heating system. No one likes to be cold, especially at the end of winter. Yes. Yes, I think Jim’s plan has merit.”

  Jim smiled. Luke reached out, found Jim’s hand and gave it a squeeze.

  “Let’s get the ball rolling on the failed heating system, then,” Brian said. “And let’s not discuss this with anyone else. As soon as I get a call back from the man who speaks Japanese, I’ll need to get into the church, Reverend.”

  Reverend Joe nodded. “Not an issue, Mr. Roy.”

  “Luke, do you think you and Jim could start digging into Mr. Boyd’s past? Specifically, around the time he died?” Brian asked.

  “What in particular are you looking for?” Luke asked.

  “Anything, really,” Brian said. “I’m wondering why the ghosts have appeared now when they’ve been quiet for fifty years?”

  “James and I will see what we can find,” Luke said.

  “We’ll figure it out, Mr. Roy,” Jim said.

  “Please,” Brian said, “all of you can call me ‘Brian.’ Let’s finish our drinks and get this solved as quickly as we can. I don’t think I’m alone in saying this is a dangerous situation. And we shouldn’t let it get any worse than this.”

  With the last word out of his mouth, the Reverend’s phone rang.

  Reverend Joe had a look of confusion on his face as he took the cell out of his pocket.

  “Hello?” he asked, answering the call.

  For several minutes, he listened. Finally, he said, “Yes, yes. Yes, I understand.”

  He ended the call and put the phone away. The Reverend licked his lips and then looked at them, his expression one of concern.

  “Who was it?” Luke asked.

  “Detective Dan Brown of the New Hampshire State Police,” Reverend Joe said. “He said there’s a dead police officer in the Church.”

  “What?” Brian asked.

  “Yes,” the Reverend said. “She died of a heart attack. But they don’t know why. She was investigating a break-in. And … she died.”

  All of them were silent for a few moments until Reverend Joe broke it.

  “Do you think, Mr. Brian, do you think they killed her?” he whispered.

  Brian lifted up his mug, finished his coffee and set it back down again. He looked at the empty porcelain and nodded. “Yes, I do.”

  Chapter 23: In the Church

  Detective Dan Brown stood in the First Congregationalist Church’s kitchen and frowned.

  He could smell cordite.

  Actual cordite. Not gunpowder. Not propellant. Actual, honest to God cordite.

  Raelynn hadn’t been shot, though.

  It looked, as far as the EMTs and the medical examiner could tell, like she had suffered a heart attack.

  Twenty-five years old, Dan thought, and she dies of a heart attack.

  He looked around the kitchen and scratched the back of his head.

  The place was a wreck.

  Pots and pans and broken glass. Cutlery and plates. White filters and finely ground coffee. Pepperidge Farms sugar cookies and saltine crackers. Someone had ripped through the kitchen and its cabinets. But there wasn’t a trace of anyone.

  No footprints, no trace of evidence, not a single thing to show an actual person had been in the kitchen when Raelynn had come into the room.

  A ghost, Dan thought, remembering what Carlton had said.

  He scoffed and one of the forensic techs looked over at him.

  Dan shook his head, and the techs went back to their evidence collection.

  What evidence? He asked himself.

  All he had was a dead colleague and one hell of a mess.

  Keene dispatch had said Raelynn called in a break-in. Afterward, she had told them she was entering the building.

  But why?

  Dan looked around.

  The destruction of the room definitely indicated someone had been in there. The lack of evidence said otherwise. It was as though a hurricane had started up in the kitchen, ripped it apart, and then vanished.

  Not before killing Raelynn though, he reminded himself. Dan turned and looked out the door to where they had found her body.

  A perfectly fit young woman, dead of cardiac failure.

  An autopsy would be performed. She would be tested for drugs, everything from recreational blends to performance enhancers. They would check with her fiancé and ask to go through the medicine cabinet.

  Dan didn’t think they would find anything.

  A ghost.

  The idea wasn’t as funny or strange as when he’d heard Carlton talk about it.

  Dan wouldn’t know for certain until they found the phone which had been misplaced.

  For a moment, he thought about the boy, Jim Bogue, and the boy’s grandfather.

  Then Dan shook his head.

  Neither of them would have had anything to do with it.

  Just you being stubborn, wanting to cram a round peg into a square hole, Dan chided himself. The evidence didn’t point to Jim Bogue, and Dan wasn’t about to make it.

  He rubbed the back of his head again, caught himself and lowered his hand.

  A bad habit he wanted to break.

  With a sigh, Dan left the kitchen, walked out to the Church office and took another look.

  The room was nearly as wrecked as the kitchen. Someone had tossed it, and not skillfully. This wasn’t a professional searching for the money box. It didn’t even look like a couple of kids who wanted to create some havoc.

  Same as with the kitchen, Dan realized. Someone is hunting for something. What though?

  The drawers of Reverend Joseph’s desk were emptied out. The filing cabinet’s items were scattered. The window had been broken in and shattered glass peppered the floor. The door hung by a hinge.

  Traces of blood and skin had been found at the bottom of the outside step
s on the pavement.

  Someone fell, trying to get out.

  Someone ran, Dan thought.

  Who? Not the one who broke in. No. Someone was scared, he thought, stepping up to the open doorway. Someone was terrified.

  Who would have been in the office?

  Dan smiled. Why the Reverend, of course. It’s his office.

  He looked up, and a bit of movement caught his eye.

  Off to the right, an old woman stood in the side window of her house.

  She stepped away, but not before Dan recognized her.

  The woman who cleaned the Church. Mrs. Staples.

  And who knows everything about a Church? He asked himself. Well, I’m sure Mrs. Staples would know. Yes, she would.

  Dan put his hands in his pockets, exited the Church and made his way to the front of the old woman’s house.

  Maybe she could tell him about ghosts.

  Chapter 24: Waiting

  Miles Cunningham left the liquor store with the brown paper bag held tightly to his chest.

  It was nearly eight o’clock.

  He had barely made it. The clerks in the store had given him the evil eye. He couldn’t explain, though, or tell them why it was so important. They had seen him before, of course, but never upset.

  They would remember him, and he didn’t want them to.

  Too late now, he told himself.

  Miles walked down the street, turned right and quickly reached his car.

  He never parked near the store. He didn’t want anyone to see what type of car he drove. Or know his license plate number.

  Cautiously, he set the bag on the floor, buckled himself in and started the engine. He needed to get home. They were already upset as it was. Any more of a delay and he might suffer repercussions.

  Terrible ones.

  He shuddered at the thought of it.

  It took him nearly half an hour to get home. He drove the speed limit and made sure to signal where appropriate. Unnecessary attention from law enforcement needed to be avoided.

  They always asked too many questions.

  When Miles finally turned into his driveway and put the car into ‘park’, he let out a long, heartfelt sigh of relief. Before he turned off the engine, he looked at the small New England cape which he called home, and he smiled.