The First Church (10 page)

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 search
ing 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 Rever
end 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 steps 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 Rever
end, 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.

With the recent warm spell, he had been able to cut back the huge rhododendron which had hidden most of the first floor.  The dull white siding needed a fresh coat of paint, but he would take care of the exterior in the late
spring.

He smiled to himself, took the key out of the ignition and carefully picked up the package from the floor.  Quickly
, he made his way to the side door, unlocked it and slipped into the kitchen.

He turned on the light and glanced down at the bare subfloor.

I still need to tile this,
he thought, walking to the counter by
the sink.  He put the bag down and removed four bottles of saké from it.  From the
cabinet, he took the tokkuri
, opened a bottle of saké and poured the liquor into it.  He then removed five of the small
sakazuki
, the cups delicate and fragile in his hands.  Quickly and quietly
,
he arranged them on the counter.  He took the tokkuri, put it into the microwave and set it
to forty seconds.

And then Miles heard them.

Their voices rose up angrily from the basement, their footsteps heavy on the stairs.

The microwave hummed, the numbers counted down.

The new, white door opened, and they came up.

He breathed a sigh of relief.

They have their heads
, he
thought as the microwave beeped loudly and announced it was done. 

He bowed low before the four dead Japanese soldiers.

Once he straightened up, Ichiru looked at him and asked,
“Do you have it?”

“Yes,”
Miles answered, glancing at the microwave. 
“And it is warm as well, sir.”

Ichiru looked at him for a moment.

Does he suspect?
He thought nervously. 
Does he know what I’m doing?

“Serve it,”
Ichiru said, and the dead gathered around the only living man in the house.

With shaking hands, he took the tokkuri out of the microwave, poured the saké into each cup, and offered it to the ghosts.

And they accepted.

Chapter 25: A Phone Call

Brian picked up his phone and sent Jenny a text.

Two boys blinded.  Another boy injured.  Cop killed.

She wrote back a moment later.

Sweet Jesus, Babe!  Do you think maybe you better pass this one off to someone else?

Brian thought about it for a moment, pictured his one-time assistant and shook her out of his mind.

No,
he wrote back
, I can’t do that.  I’m already
here,
and the situation needs to be resolved.  I only wanted to let you know what’s going on.

Thanks.  Be CAREFUL.  You know how bad your heart is, and if you become a
ghost, I swear I will have you bound to a tiara and put in a preschool.

Brian laughed out loud and shook his head.

I love you
, he wrote. 
I will be careful.

Love you, too, Babe,
she replied.

With a sigh,
Brian put the phone on his lap and leaned back.  He closed his eyes and smiled as he thought about Jenny.

Ah,
he thought,
to be home, in my chair, with a Booker’s neat.

Then he remembered Leo. 
Brian pictured the strange little man and the gift he had given him.

No,
Brian told himself,
home
will have to wait.  These people need help.  I need to figure out what’s going on.

The phone rang, and Brian nearly jumped out of his seat.

He shook off the surprise, picked up the cell and looked at it.

Unknown caller.

Brian frowned and answered the call.

“Hello?” he asked.

“Hello, is this Brian Roy?” a man asked.

“This is,” Brian answered.

“Brian, my name is Shane Ryan. I’m a friend of Charles Gottesman,” he said.  “Charles told me you have a language problem with a ghost?”

Brian nodded and said, “Yes I do.  Well, two now, actually.  They’re both Japanese soldiers.”

“Aggressive?” Shane asked.

“Extremely,” Brian said.  “I know for certain they blinded two boys, shot, somehow, a third, and we’re pretty sure they killed a police officer, too.”

“Damn,” Shane said.  “You’re up in Rye?”

“Yes,” Brian replied.  “So, you speak Japanese?”

“I do,” he answered.  “Where’s a good place to meet?”

“There’s a coffee shop on Main Street called the Riverwalk.  How long will you be?” Brian asked.

“Give me an hour and a half.  I’ve got to square away some stuff and then I’ll grab a car.  Riverwalk, you said?”

“Yes,” Brian answered.  “Listen, I really appreciate this, Shane.”

Shane laughed, “No worries.  I’ll see you at the Riverwalk.”

“Okay,” Brian said, and he ended the call.

His stomach rumbled and reminded him he hadn’t eaten in a long time.  With a
grunt, he got up from the chair, went to his overnight bag and pulled out his much battered and beloved copy of Max Brooks’
World War Z
.

Brian looked down at the orange cover and smiled.

Thank God I don’t have to deal with zombies.

He tucked the book under his arm, grabbed his wallet and keys, and then made his way out of the room.

It was time to see what sort of food the Riverwalk offered.

Chapter 26: Searching for Answers

Jim sat in front of a computer at the Rye Public Library.  His grandfather sat in a chair beside him, and together they sought out information about the dead Japanese
soldiers.

Although Jim couldn’t figure out how they might do it.

“Now, Jim,” his grandfather said, “you’ll have to explain to me how this is going to help us.”

“Okay, Grandpa,” Jim said.  “I have what’s called a search engine.  We’ll type in a piece of information, and then it will bring up all sorts of stories and articles related to the stuff we put in.”

His grandfather frowned, but nodded a moment later.

“Alright, let’s start with something simple.  Please type in ‘Jonathan Boyd’,” he said.

“I’m also going to add ‘Rye, New Hampshire,'
” Jim said.  “The more information we put in, the better.”

His grandfather nodded and Jim typed in the name and town and city.

When Jim hit return, the screen shifted, and the various results appeared.

“What does it say?” his grandfather asked.

“Hm,” Jim said, leaning close to the screen, “some of them say what we saw on his headstone.  But there’s one
here, it says he caught a burglar?”

“Can you read it to me?”

“Hold on,” Jim said.  He clicked on the article and waited for it to load.  Once it did, he read the article.  It spoke of the man restraining a burglar, and the burglar was injured after falling down the stairs several times.

“I remember,
now,” his grandfather said softly.  “Yes, Mr. Boyd told me about it.  The young man had screamed about the war trophies, about Mr. Boyd being a war-lover.”

“Do you think he went back and stole the war trophies, later on?” Jim asked.

“What do you mean?” his grandfather asked.

“Well,” Jim said, “the article says the kid had stolen other stuff.  And if he was freaking out about
war trophies
, what if he had stolen others?  What if he was crazy and just had to steal those things?  Didn’t you say all of Mr. Boyd’s stuff disappeared after he died?”

“Yes,” he said, nodding.  “Yes, it did.  You’re right, James.  What if the thief went back and stole everything?  Skulls included.”