by Paul Seiple
“Jack,” Pamela said, stepping into the room. “We don’t talk like that.”
“It’s OK. The kid isn’t far off,” Sam said. “But if I am a neanderthal for eating a peanut butter and jelly sandwich the correct way, what does that make the kid?”
“OK, OK,” Lanky said. “No need to go to war over this. There’s a jar of strawberry jelly in the pantry.”
“Thank you,” Jack said, turning away.
“Maybe the kid can help us find something on Brightside,” Derek said.
“This kid’s name is Jack. And I’m off duty,” Jack said. “But… I’m bored. What is a Brightside?”
“Not a chance,” Sam said.
“Hey, Jack found Julian. He also put Candy Crush on your home screen. What could it hurt?” Lanky said.
Pamela took the plate from Jack. “I’ll make your sandwich.”
Jack sat beside Lanky. “OK, what’s a Brightside?”
Sam sighed. “I can’t get the Tarheels game. What else is there to do today?” He filled Jack in on the Adam Brightside case.
“And what makes this thirty-year-old case important?" Jack asked.
“We think his ghost is asking for our help to solve the case,” Derek said.
“Derek thinks that,” Sam said.
“And why?” Jack asked.
“Strange things occurred at my house when we discussed the case. And then on the way here the radio played a song called ‘Mr. Brightside’,” Derek said.
“That’s not strange. It’s a popular song from 2004, performed by The Killers. Rolling Stone named it one of the 100 Best Songs of the 2000s,” Jack said.
“The Killers… Mr. Brightside,” Derek said.
“The supernatural is truly fascinating,” Lanky said.
“How do you know all this stuff, kid?" Sam asked.
“Jack reads,” Jack said.
“Well, the radio turned itself on, and that song was playing,” Derek said.
“Pretty impressive,” Jack said.
“Sam couldn’t solve the case back in the nineties,” Derek said.
Jack looked at Sam.
“Don’t start, kid,” Sam said.
“OK… I’m intrigued. I’m in,” Jack said.
“We should start by researching the lyrics to the song,” Lanky said.
“The song has nothing to do with it,” Sam said.
Jack eyed Sam again. “You had thirty years to solve this. Give someone else a chance, old man.”
“Look kid, I may be old but I can still kick your…”
Pamela interrupted Sam. “I made you a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, too.”
Sam lifted the top piece of bread. Pamela laughed and said, “It’s grape jelly.” She handed a sandwich to Jack. He inspected the bread. “Don’t worry, yours is strawberry.”
Jack took a bite of the sandwich. “Lanky, you and Derek research the song, and I’ll look into Brightside.”
“What about me?” Sam asked.
Jack thought about saying something sarcastic, but the look Pamela cut his way changed his mind. “You can help me find out who Brightside really was.”
Sam nodded and pulled the chair closer to Jack. Pamela smiled and returned to the kitchen. Jack eyed a photocopy of Adam Brightside’s license taped to a page in the journal.
“It’s not real,” Sam said, wiping jelly from his mouth with a paper towel.
Jack didn’t respond. His fingers blurred against the laptop keyboard. After a few seconds, he said, “I know that.” He shoved the computer onto Sam’s lap. “There’s been no one with the name Brightside residing in Rock Hill.”
“Well… I didn’t have the luxury of Doodle in the nineties,” Sam said.
“It’s Google, and you still had city records,” Jack said.
“Hey… I think we have something,” Derek said. He read the first verse of ‘Mr. Brightside’ out loud. The lyrics hinted at cheating in a relationship.
“That’s nothing. I can name a hundred country songs that revolve around someone sleeping around,” Sam said. He looked at Jack. “Sorry, kid.”
Jack exhaled and shook his head.
“Anyway, there’s no way that song has anything to do with the case. It came out over a decade later. Are you going to try to convince me, the person who murdered Brightside wrote that song to brag about?” Sam said.
“Of course not,” Lanky said. “But there is this thing called synchronicity.”
“Yeah, yeah, we heard all about it while you were in the hospital,” Sam said.
Jack’s fingers glided with ease over the keyboard again. “I may have something.”
Jack showed Lanky an article about a couple of grifters accused of murdering wealthy businessmen in the early nineties.
“That would make the grifters… wait for it…” Derek said. "… Killers.”
“Let me see that,” Sam said, stealing Jack’s laptop. “They operated in Florida.”
“It’s only a five-hour drive from Rock Hill to Jacksonville,” Jack said.
Sam picked up his phone and tried to find the maps app.
“There’s no need to check behind him. He’s right,” Derek said. “Well… he’s close. It’s five hours and six minutes with no traffic.”
Jack took the laptop from Sam and typed MISSING BUSINESS MAN FLORIDA 1992 in the search bar. The results returned a hit for Adam Perkins.
“Does this look like Brightside?” Jack asked.
Sam pulled the photo of Brightside’s license closer to his face.
“It looks like him,” Jack said. “I was just being sarcastic.” He handed the laptop back to Sam. “Adam Perkins disappeared from Jupiter, Florida in October 1992.”
“We found Brightside in October 1992,” Sam said.
Jack shot a smirk at Sam. “Of course, you did.”
“The grifters were Charlie Polk and Amanda Dillon. Looks like the cops caught up with Polk in 1998. He died in prison in 2002,” Derek said.
“And Amanda Dillon?” Lanky asked.
“She was never caught,” Derek said.
“Wait, you’re jumping on this like it’s filet minion on a buffet," Sam said. "Polk and Dillon were accused of murders in 1995 and in Florida not North Carolina.”
“I hate to say it, but Sam has a point,” Derek said.
“This Adam Perkins is Adam Brightside,” Jack said.
“They are identical,” Lanky said. “Down to the mole on his chin.”
“OK, let’s just think about this rationally for a minute,” Sam said.
“I’m being rational. Perkins is Brightside. Now, we just have to figure out if the grifters killed him,” Jack said.
“And how are we going to do that?” Sam asked.
“Grandma,” Jack said. “Can you come here for a minute?”
“What’s Pamela have to do with this?” Sam asked.
Lanky laughed. “You didn’t think the cops released Jack into a stranger’s custody, do you?”
“What?” Sam asked.
“I’m Debbie’s mother,” Pamela said, taking a seat on the arm of the couch. “Jack’s mother was Debbie’s sister.”
“You’re a witch?” Sam asked.
Pamela smiled and shook her head. “No. But I do practice psychography.”
“Can you turn Derek into a toad?” Sam asked.
Pamela laughed. “No. I practice automatic writing. I can channel ghosts and write their thoughts down.”
“Grandma, can you try to find this man?” Jack handed the laptop to Pamela. “His name is Adam Perkins.”
“I’ll be more comfortable at the kitchen table,” Pamela said.
Pamela grabbed a blank notepad from her bag and placed it on the table next to the laptop. She pulled a gel pen with blue ink from the bag and scribbled on the first blank page. She tore the paper away and tossed it in the trash.
Jack took a seat at the table to the right of the laptop. Derek sat beside Jack. Lanky sat opposite of the kid. Sam stood in the doorway.
“I don’t bite,” Pamela said.
“I’m not worried about you,” Sam said.
“That’s understandable,” Pamela said as she took a seat in front of the laptop.
“Are you going to be able to speak with Perkins?” Derek asked.
“I hope so,” Pamela said.
A small radio near Sam turned on. “Mr. Brightside” rattled through the one speaker.
“Still think the song has nothing to do with this?” Derek asked.
Pamela closed her eyes and wrote.
MURDERED
“Find out if we are speaking with Adam Perkins?” Lanky asked.
Pamela wrote again.
PERKINS. BRIGHTSIDE AN ALIAS.
The writing drew Sam in. He took a seat next to Lanky. “Who murdered you?”
Pamela moved the pen against the paper.
LILLY. DISLOYAL.
“Who’s Lilly?” Sam asked.
“Adam’s wife,” Jack said. He showed Sam a photo on his phone.
“That’s Amanda Dillion,” Sam said.
The pen scraped faster across the paper.
LILLY. NOT AMANDA. MURDERED. INSURANCE. CHARLIE. FRIEND.
“Is he saying his wife and his friend murdered him for insurance money?” Sam asked.
An eerie silence fell over the kitchen as the radio went silent.
Pamela opened her eyes and placed the pen on the paper. “He’s gone.”
Sam stood up and moved to the back porch.
“Where are you going?” Lanky asked.
“I have to call Hawkins. He’s assigned to my cold cases. This one is about to get hot," Sam said.
Thirty-Nine
Mason sat at the table eating a Big Mac and shoveling fries into his mouth. Debbie watched in amazement, sipping on black coffee.
“What? I think I deserve this after that case,” Mason said.
“It’s not that. You’ve got thousand island in your beard,” Debbie said.
“It’s special sauce, my dear,” Mason said.
He grabbed a handful of napkins and smeared the sauce deeper into the gray bristle-like hair. Debbie shook her head.
“How long are ya’ll staying?” Jaime asked Don as he added sugar to his coffee.
“The others have to get back, but I was thinking of spending a few weeks in Cleveland,” Don said.
Jaime smiled. “I’d like that, Dad.”
“You having regrets?” Kim asked Terrence as she scraped the onions from her burger. “I swear, I told her no onions.”
Terrence slurped a strawberry shake. “Nah. After you’ve been attacked by three… four… five… demons, I guess you get used to it.”
“Never get used to it, son,” Mason said.
Noah walked into the restaurant. The first thing everyone noticed was the white bandage on his nose.
“Is it broken?” Jaime asked.
“Yeah, I’m afraid I’ll no longer be one of the country’s sexiest detectives. Whatever will I do?” Noah took a seat beside Jaime.
“Any residue?” Debbie asked.
“You mean from a demon violating my body? No, of course not,” Noah said.
“How are you feeling about the supernatural now?" Don asked.
“Well… I can’t deny that it exists. But I think I’ll stick with real- world crime from now own, and let you guys handle the spooky stuff,” Noah said.
“So, you don’t won’t me to wipe your mind?” Debbie asked.
“I’m sure I’ll have nightmares about what happened, but it’s best that I remember that kind of evil is out there. Oh, I almost forgot to thank you for adding a scar to my head with that table. You saved Terrence.”
“That wasn’t me. Thank Kim. And Terrence, you should thank her too.” Debbie brought the cup to her lips.
“Me?” Kim asked. “I didn’t do that.”
Debbie sat the coffee down. “You have no idea what you’re capable of doing.”
Jaime tapped Noah’s hand. “Let’s get some fresh air.”
“Sure, OK, but it’s not like I can smell it,” Noah said.
Jaime walked a few steps ahead of Noah. He didn’t have the energy to catch up.
“Hey, can you slow down a bit? I’m going through a demon hangover,” Noah said.
Jaime stopped and turned back. “Sorry.”
“What’s up?” Noah asked.
“I came back to Cleveland because I got divorced,” Jaime said.
Noah hesitated before responding. “I’m sorry.”
“No, you’re not,” Jaime said.
“I’ve only wanted you to be happy. You know that,” Noah said.
“That’s not true. If you wanted me to be happy, you would have committed to me before college. Face it, Noah, you’ve always been the most eligible bachelor,” Jaime said.
“Do you think I like that title?” Noah asked.
“It’s who you are,” Jaime said.
“No, it isn’t. If you want to know the truth, Jaime, I’m lonely. I’m not the type to settle either.”
“What are you saying?” Jaime asked.
“I never stopped loving you. Work became my partner. I couldn’t have the one I wanted because she was off living through failed marriages.”
Jaime smiled. “That’s low.”
“Are you staying this time?” Noah asked.
“Well, Dad owns that building, so I’ll have free office space. And I think there’s always room for another forensic pathologist in this city,” Jamie said. “So, yeah, I’m staying.”
“It’ll be nice to work with on real-word crimes,” Noah said.
“And demon hunting,” Jaime said.
“Can’t we just savor this moment,” Noah said.
“That sounds like an excellent idea,” Jaime said.
“So what’s next?” Noah asked.
“Well, Dad is going to stick around for a few weeks. I was thinking I may ask him to help me find a house here.”
“You really are staying this time?” Noah asked.
Jaime smiled. “You’re going to need someone to watch your back. There’s this thing called synchronicity when it comes to the supernatural.”
“Think it’s too late for Debbie to wipe my mind?” Noah asked.
“You don’t want to forget this moment,” Jaime said. Her smile widened. “Oh, Dad cleared the cases up. So, you can take a few days to rest.”
“What?” Noah asked.
Jaime pointed to a newspaper stand. The front-page story headline read: NEW DRUG RESPONISBLE FOR RASH OF VIOLENCE.
“Dad pulled some strings. Julian Paulsen was dealing a new, hybrid drug that caused people to turn violent. Paulsen was found in his apartment after an overdose. The drug was destroyed. Cleveland can return to its normal weird self,” Jaime said.
“I don’t know how I feel about this, but the truth is unbelievable,” Noah said.
“Hey, think of it this way, people will hoard toilet paper when they think there’s a shortage. Image what they would do if they found out demons were real,” Jaime said.
“Or aliens,” Noah said.
“About that,” Jaime said.
“No, no, no. I don’t want to know,” Noah said.
Jaime smiled again, leaned in, and kissed Noah’s cheek.
Forty
Derek sat at Don’s kitchen table, working on the manuscript for the book about Sam’s cases. Lanky looked over his shoulder, reading along while sipping hot tea.
Sam chuckled under his breath as he fumbled with his phone.
“Hi, Dad,” Kim said, pouring a cup of tea.
Sam waved, but didn’t take his eyes away from the screen.
“Need me to help you pull Candy Crush up?” Kim asked.
Sam shook his head and tapped the screen with his fingertips.
“Are you texting?” Kim asked.
“He’s been texting non stop since Jack showed him how to,” Lanky said.
“Who’s Jack?” Kim asked, sitting beside L
anky.
“He’s kind of like a boy genius. He’s a twelve-year-old kid who helped us find Paulsen,” Lanky said.
“Why would Dad text a kid? He hates them,” Kim said.
Sam ignored the conversation about him and continued to slap his phone with his fingers.
“Oh, he’s not texting Jack. He’s texting Jack’s guardian, Pamela,” Lanky said.
“Jack and Pamela sitting in a tree…” Derek said.
“Shut it, Gallagher,” Sam said, placing his phone on the table.
“Is there something you want to tell me, Dad?” Kim asked.
“I’m a grown man. I can have friends,” Sam said.
Kim smiled and placed her hand on Sam’s. “Of course, you can. I think it’s cute that you have a girlfriend.”
Sam shook his head and looked over Derek’s shoulder and read what he was writing.
“It sure is quiet here without Don around,” Mason said.
“You can’t put that in the book. I didn’t mean it that way. There you go with the sensationalized writing again,” Sam said.
“I take that back,” Mason said.
“Yeah, those two have been fighting the entire time you’ve been gone. Just like an old married couple,” Lanky said.
“They like each other,” Debbie said, passing through the kitchen.
“Like you two?” Mason asked.
“I can’t stand him,” Debbie said. She patted Lanky’s knee. “I’m going to rest a bit.”
“Oh, can I borrow you for a minute before you rest?” Kim asked.
“Sure,” Debbie said.
Kim followed Debbie to the porch.
“What’s on your mind?” Debbie asked.
“You were joking when you said I caused those tables to fly around the room, right?” Kim asked.
“Nope. You did that,” Debbie said.
“How?”
“Do I need to spell it out for you, Kim?”
“It looks that way,” Kim said.
“You’re a witch, Kim. I’ve known since Remi cleansed you. Truthfully, I think I knew it before then. You see things others can’t. You protected Terrence by using those tables as weapons.”
“I’ve never studied witchcraft. I can’t be a witch,” Kim said.
Debbie smiled. “Studying witchcraft doesn’t make you a powerful witch. There is more to it than learning spells. Terrence could learn a spell. He’d probably turn Sam into a toad, but the point is pure witches are rare.”