Dead-Tective Box Set

by Mac Flynn

  I sat up and rubbed the sleep from my eyes. "But how are we supposed to find out something about that? Didn't Simone say we'd need to do a seaman or something to find someone?"

  "Seance, and there are people capable of making the connection for us, but not if we do not hurry," Vince insisted.

  "All right, I'm-" I stifled a yawn and swung my legs over the bed, "-up, or close to it. Where are we going to find this professional seance person, anyway?"

  "There are many mediums located in the city. The one I had in mind is located at the edge of the blighted area," he told me.

  I furrowed my brow and tapped a finger on my chin. "Blighted area? Oh yeah, that's the place where Ruthven shows off his work on the city, right?" I asked him.

  "That is correct, but we don't have time for a history lesson." He turned and walked toward the door.

  "Hey, Vince," I called to him. He paused and half turned to me. I grinned at him and nodded at his temples. They were still gray from his experience as an old geezer. "I still like the hairstyle."

  He bowed his head and left without a word. I took that as his accepting the compliment, and prepared for our visit to the medium. That involved pressing my wrinkled clothes with my hands and tying my hair back because Vince wasn't going to give me enough time to wash it. In a minute I was ready, and I met Vince at the front door. We traveled to the car and he drove us through the ruined neighborhoods to the ones wrecked by Ruthven. Run-down buildings were replaced by rotting ones, and litter-filled alleys changed to weed-infested lawns. Flickering streetlights disappeared, and the darkness of the night covered everything.

  "Why don't our adventures ever take us some place more cheerful? Like a cemetery?" I quipped as I watched the depressing world fly by.

  "It may before the night is over," Vince warned me.

  I snorted. "I can hardly wait."

  Our new adventure led us to the edge of the blight where there was actual grass in the lawns, but weeds and darkness still covered much of the area. The houses were large Victorian mansions, most in disrepair but a few inhabited by stubborn owners. Tall oak trees grew along the road and draped their branches over the road like a dark, endless tunnel. Eight-foot tall shrubs and skeletal decorative trees dotted the yards.

  I noticed a large Victorian house ahead of us on the next corner with its shutters painted a bright firetruck red. The porch looked stable and the front room window shone with light. A few cars sat on the grassy curb, and Vince parked us behind one of the vehicles. We got out and I tilted my head back to get a good look at the gable roof, bay windows, and fish-scale shingles on the walls. A crow sat on the highest peak of the roof and glared down at us with its beady yellow eyes.

  It was all so delightfully scary that I shuddered and flickered my eyes to Vince. "About that cemetery. It's looking pretty good right now," I mused.

  "Perhaps later. The medium we wish to meet resides here," he informed me.

  "Why are we seeing this one?" I asked him.

  "She honors her client's privacy," he explained. He strode forward to the steps that led onto the covered porch.

  "Medium-client privilege, eh?" I quipped as I followed behind him.

  "Something of that nature," he agreed.

  We reached the wooden front door and Vince knocked. The entrance creaked open on hinges that needed oiling thirty years ago. There was so much chunky rust on them I could have graveled the road with it. Our greeter turned out to be a young woman of about twenty with beautiful gray eyes and no legs. That probably had something to do with the bottom half of her being transparent, and her upper body floating two feet off the ground. I let out a small 'eep' and slipped behind Vince.

  The ghost girl smiled at us. "What can I do for you?" she inquired.

  "We wish to see Madam Mim," Vince replied.

  I snorted. "Madam Mim?"

  "Do you have an appointment?" the ghost wondered.

  "No, but I have been a client in the past," he revealed.

  "Your name?"

  "Vincent."

  "One moment, please." The ghost closed the door and I whipped my head to Vince.

  "Are we going to be seeing a lot of those types of people on this adventure?" I asked him.

  "Undoubtedly," he replied.

  My shoulders drooped and I returned to his side. "I don't think I'm ever going to get used to this paranormal society. Just when I think I can handle anything that's thrown at me a ghost comes and throws a transparent monkey wrench into the machinery." I stood at attention when the door opened and the ghost woman smiled at us.

  She stepped aside and gestured down the hall that ran down the center of the house. "If you would care to take a seat in the parlor behind the first door on the right then Madam Mim will be with you in a moment."

  "Well, at least we don't have to take a number," I muttered beneath my breath as Vince led the way down the hall.

  The old house had peeling flowered wallpaper, but the floor was clean and there was no smell of damp. Vince turned us into the right-hand room and I saw it was a small, square room. The windows were covered in black lace, as were the lamp shades, and plain chairs lined the walls to our right and in front of us. To our left and a little away from the wall was a doorway with thick black curtains. Black wallpaper with dark gold stripes covered the walls, and the carpet was also black.

  The atmosphere was made all the more depressing by the inhabitants. A man sat opposite where we stood, and in his hands was a small fire engine. He stared morosely at the toy and occasionally let out a heaving sigh. To our right and close to the wall sat an old woman with a younger one, and the younger one tried to console her sniffling companion.

  "I'm sure she'll be able to find Grandpa," the younger one whispered to the older woman.

  The older woman sighed and shook her head. She spoke with a thick Eastern European accent. "It is of no use. He is lost to me forever."

  Vince led us to a pair of chairs in the corner of the room and we took a seat. My eyes lingered on the man with the toy until I decided the gloomy wallpaper was much more cheerful. After ten minutes of depressing agony the heavy curtains in front of the other doorway parted and a middle-aged woman stepped out. The woman was in tears and blew loudly on a handkerchief.

  Behind her was a tiny old woman of seventy who wore a black shawl over her hunched shoulders and a soft, kind smile on her wizened face. She patted the younger woman's shoulder with her wrinkled hand. "I am sure it will be all right now for you and your brother."

  The other woman smiled and nodded. "Yes, but I don't know how to thank you enough, Madam Mim."

  "My assistant will tell you my bill. That will be thanks enough," the older woman returned.

  The client left, and Madam Mim swept her eyes over the small room. The man caught her eye and stood, but she waved him down in his seat. "In a moment, sir. I can sense there is some urgency with these other clients. Come into my parlor, please." She gestured to us, and Vince stood.

  Chapter 2

  Madam Mim slipped into the other room, and we followed. The second room was completely shrouded in darkness. No natural light permeated its windows, and heavy curtains hung from the ceiling and almost forced Vince to stoop. A round table sat in the center of the small room, and on its blood-red tablecloth was a deck of cards and a small crystal ball on a pedestal. On the opposite side to us sat a single chair, and close to us were two more seats. Madam Mim took her position opposite us and gestured to the other chairs.

  "It's not often the dead visit me without me calling for them. What can I do for you?" she asked us.

  Vince walked up to the table and took a seat. I followed his example. He pulled forth the card from his coat and tossed it to the medium. "We need you to find who holds the other half of the card. We were told we would need a medium to do so," he explained.

  She picked up the folded card and studied it for a moment before she set the card face-up on the table and raised an eyebrow. "That isn't much to go on. Got a name
or a face?" she asked us.

  Vince shook his head. "Nothing."

  Madam Mim frowned and set the card face-up in front of her. "All right, I'll try, but it'll cost you extra because this isn't going to be easy."

  "Isn't there some sort of impression from the person we want to talk to?" I wondered.

  She snorted and tapped the face of the card. "There isn't even many fingerprints on this card, much less an impression. This will be like dialing a phone number with only one digit."

  Vince reached for the card. "If you are unable to perform the task then we may find others to-"

  Mim set her palm on the card and glared at him. "I will find this person, but like I said, it will cost extra and you won't find the rates of the others any cheaper. Do we have a deal or what?"

  Vince retracted his hand and nodded. "We have a deal."

  "Good. Now be quiet and let me concentrate." The woman set the tips of her fingers of one of her hands on the card and closed her eyes.

  "Shouldn't we join hands or something?" I wondered.

  Madam Mim opened one eye and frowned at me. "That is a bunch of hogwash, now hush." She closed her eyes and tilted her head back so her chin pointed upward. "Oh spirits of the other side, please help me find one who knows the meaning of this card and holds the other half."

  "Or maybe just call Hilda so we can ask her about it," I muttered.

  The medium opened her eyes and looked up at the ceiling. "Remain still. I'm getting something," she whispered.

  Movement over the table caught my eyes, and I tilted my head back to gaze at the ceiling. A wispy white fog appeared out of thin air four feet above the table. The fog glowed with an unearthly light, which was pretty fitting considering this wasn't earthly, and the whiteness slowly formed itself into the shape of an older woman. She was, or had been, about sixty-five with wrinkles on her thin face. Her grayish hair was permed, and she wore a flowered dress that hugged her skinny frame. The bottom half of her slipped into a smoky point like a genie chained to a magic lamp.

  The ghost's sharp eyes swept over us and her tight mouth curled down in a deep scowl. "What the hell do you want?" she growled in a raspy voice that could have startled a deaf man.

  The medium frowned and tapped the card with one finger. "These nice people wish to know if you hold the other half of this card."

  The ghost floated closer to the table, and I felt the temperature of the room lower with her ghostly body. She squinted her eyes, and after a moment gave a nod. "Yes, I do."

  "We wish to know what Hilda told or gave to you," Vince spoke up.

  The ghost's eyes flickered to us and she scrutinized our faces. "Hilda told me someone would be snooping around for it, but I'm not telling anything until I get some help from you."

  I raised an eyebrow and glanced at Madam Mim. "Is this how it usually works?" I spoke up.

  The medium snorted. "Not usually, but the pushier ghosts may demand many things," she told me.

  The ghost whipped her head to medium and glared at her. "What I demand is not because I am 'pushy,' but because I am restless, and I'm not helping anyone until my body is found."

  "Have you checked your other spook outfit?" I asked her.

  She crossed her arms and floated closer to the ceiling. Her outline dimmed and her voice sounded farther away as though she spoke through a long tunnel. "Fine. We'll see how long it takes you to find what Hilda gave me on your own."

  Vince stood so fast his chair tumbled back onto the ground. "What did Hilda give to you?" he questioned her.

  She stopped her disappearing act and shrugged. "If you want to know then you have to find my body."

  "Why do you think we can find your body?" I asked her.

  She sighed and gestured to Vince. "Every spook in the city knows about the vampire detective agency, and if he's a vampire then he's then he's the detective. Besides, Hilda told me he might come snooping around looking for the card and what she gave me. Now will you help me or must I take my problem elsewhere?"

  Vince nodded. "Very well, we will assist you. What must we do?"

  The ghost's eyes flickered to the medium and she furrowed her brow. "This is a personal matter and I would rather speak to you in private. You will meet me at my property at 113 Rue de Morgue by the old hollow oak. Be there in an hour or our agreement is no more."

  The ghost disappeared in a cloud of smoke and the light in the room vanished. I blinked at the medium and Vince. "What just happened?"

  Vince pursed his lips. "It seems we have another job."

  "I wouldn't take this one, detective," Madam Mim spoke up. "I've dealt with enough spirits in my profession not to trust to meet one on their terms and on their property. There's a lot of bad spirits who want to lead a person to death out of jealousy of the living."

  "How much do we owe you?" Vince asked her, ignoring her warning.

  The medium sighed and held out her hand palm-up. "Don't say I didn't warn you, and that warning costs you extra. That brings your bill to five hundred bucks."

  Our bill was paid and we left the old Victorian mansion. I paused at the front of the car and looked over the hood to Vince. "You think Madam Mim's right about this being a trap?" I asked him.

  "Do we have a choice?" he countered.

  I shrugged. "I don't know. You're the expert in the supernatural, you tell me."

  "You have had your fair share of adventures to know caution is the best policy," he argued before he ducked into the car.

  I furrowed my brow and joined him in the car where I frowned at him. "Was that a back-handed compliment?" I asked him.

  A ghost of a smile slipped onto his lips. "Perhaps."

  "Uh-huh, and perhaps I'm a half-vampire human stuck to an ancient vampire on a mission to get ourselves killed," I quipped. I noticed the smile slipped away at my sentence. "What? Am I wrong?"

  He started the car and pulled away from the curb. "No, not wrong," he replied.

  "So what's the matter?" I persisted.

  "Nothing," he mumbled. Vince never mumbled.

  I scooted close to him as I was uninhibited by a seatbelt in this old, pieced-together death machine. "'fess up, what do you know?"

  "Much, but we must focus on the problem at hand. The property at Rue de Morgue is quite large and we may not be able to find the tree quickly," he informed me.

  "Don't we have a super sniffer or something we can use?" I asked him.

  "That isn't an ability given to most vampires," he admitted.

  I slipped back into my seat and sighed. "Of course not. That would be really useful right now." I paused and tapped my chin. "Then again it would've been really bad to have that in the sewers, and we've been in the sewers a lot."

  "Do you never stop prattling?" Vince inquired.

  I grinned and batted my eyelashes at him. "Nope, but you know you love me for it." I was startled to notice a slight hint of blush on his pale cheeks. "Is that-are you blushing?" I teased him.

  Vince turned away from me and somehow didn't drive us off the road. "No."

  I wickedly grinned and scooted close to him again. "Uh-huh, and I'm the queen of the ghosts."

  "You may become an astral spirit if you do not focus on the problem at hand," he warned me.

  I leaned my left arm against his right one. "Come on, admit you like me a little. I did save your life in that alley in the Underground."

  "I don't expect the situation to be repeated," he quipped.

  "You never know," I cooed. Vince sharply turned the wheel and the car slid onto a left-hand street. I was unprepared for the turn and slid sideways into the passenger-side door. "Would it kill you to feel a little bit more?" I growled.

  Vince's reply was to slam on the breaks and send me hurtling into the dashboard. I grasped the front and whipped my head to him for another glare, but he ignored me and nodded at the view ahead of us. "We are there."

  I followed his gaze and was presented with a view of one of the spookiest Victorian mansions I'd ever seen.
The house made Madam Mim's place look like a well-kept resort. The shutters hung from one or two loose nails, and the paint and shine had long ago peeled from the fish-scale shingles. The pointed roofs stuck into the clear sky like daggers, and there were no friendly lights to lighten the dark mood. The house was surrounded on all sides by a large yard, or park, and sat fifty yards back from the cracked concrete road on which we parked. Tall, scraggly bushes ran around the perimeter of the park, and inside were more wild bushes and scores of tall, ancient trees with dead, skeletal branches that knocked against each other in the slightest breeze.

  "Geez, I wonder why she'd ever want to stop haunting this place," I muttered.

  A weed-choked gravel driveway led from the road through the forested parkup to the front of the house, and the whole structure sat atop a small, gentle hill. At the mouth of the driveway was a faded For Sale sign that stood askew on its rickety old wood post. Vince drove us up the drive, and fifteen yards from the house I noticed a small cottage twenty yards to the left of the mansion. A pale light shone through one of the windows, showing that at least one living person still inhabited the area. Vince parked us in front of the teetering covered porch with its broken half-dozen steps, and we stepped out.

  I looked up at the house and a shiver swept over me. It was the first time in a long time that I'd been cold from the night air. I glanced at Vince. "Now what do we do? Hope we find-" A quiet mumbling interrupted my questions, and soon a whole man strode around the far corner of the house between the cottage and the mansion.

  He was my height, about sixty with a balding head, and wore shabby clothes that hung loose around his frame. He must have lost weight since buying them. His head was bowed and he clutched a scrap of paper in his hand on which his eyes were glued. All that was average enough except for the huge cross around his neck and the rosary in his paperless hand. There was also a strong smell of garlic and other herbs on his person that nearly made me gag. I noticed Vince take an involuntary step backward.

  The stranger muttered something beneath his breath of which I caught only the slightest hint. "Damn him. He thinks he can get away with-" The man jolted to a stop and his head whipped up to us. He stuffed the scrap of paper into a pocket and glared at us. "Who the hell are you and what the hell are you doing here?" he snapped.