Dead Sure?: A Paranormal Mystery (38 page)

“A will, the journal mentioned that he was going to give you that.”

“He did, and I rue the day. I took it and agreed that I would make sure things were carried out as indicated.”

“Why do you regret it?”

“Patience, I’m getting to it. I took the document and the money and left. I stopped several blocks away to read the thing. It’s fortunate that I did. The point Tim was most adamant about was that, his tombstone was to contain a line that read exactly:

‘
To my loving daughter Rene Melissa, I will never stop missing yo
u.
The Key to success is to start at the bottom.’

“You still remember that all these years later?”

“I do, for a number of reasons. The first being it cost me my right eye and this scar on my forehead. Charles caught up with me and stole the will. In the process, he threatened to cut my eyes out if I ever spoke of it again. The bastard pulled out a knife and gave me a very realistic example of what he meant. I guess I was lucky, he didn’t kill me. That man was crazy, a real hot head.”

“So what’s the second reason?” Jack asked, thinking this story was getting exceptionally interesting.

“The second reason is several days later Charles disappeared and Tim turned up dead. Shot to death gangland style. Now the will was gone, but I had made a promise and the words from the paper were clearly etched in my mind. So I made Tim’s final wish a reality.” Lefty paused for a moment as if trying to compose himself. “The fact is, I really haven’t thought about the whole chain of events much lately until several days ago. That’s when I saw Angela in the graveyard across the street, the very graveyard that Tim is buried in. She looked as young as ever. I tried to talk with her but she just began to fade away. The next thing I knew another woman was staring at me, screaming. She looked terrified, I tried to grab her arms and look closer but she got loose and ran like a jack rabbit.”

“You really believe you saw Angela again? If she was alive, she would be way older than you.”

“Oh, she’s not alive. It’s her ghost. She has some kind of unfinished business. It’s funny, but after Tim turned up dead, she went missing like Charles. There were rumors floating around on the street that the two of them had run off together. Only I knew better, she hated the bastard’s guts. It was Tim she loved, I’m sure of it,” Lefty wheezed, looking a little misty-eyed. 

“So to sum it up, you’re trying to tell me that the graveyard across the street has Tim’s tombstone with the inscription you just told me about, and that you saw Angela’s ghost there too.” Jack tried to contain the skepticism he felt, starting to churn over everything that had happened recently in his mind, the disbelief completed faded away. That inscription contained the name Rene Melissa that couldn’t be a coincidence. He felt sure that it was his Rene the message was meant for. “What was Angela like, and what do you think she wants?”

Lefty starred intently at Jack for a minute, and then replied with one word, “Revenge!”

Chapter 28
Sunday September 22
nd
, 1929

Sunday September 22
nd
, 1929

Tim arrived at the small bungalow on the far side of town just slightly after midnight. He was feeling a little lightheaded as he drove up the alley to the garage. His side was killing him where he’d been shot by the unknown assailant. Tim prodded it gingerly with his fingertips, wondering if it was going to be fatal.
No, if it was going to be fatal I’d be dead already, wouldn’t I? What about infection, good lord, they don’t have decent antibiotics back in the 1920’s. If I had just recovered what Angela and I needed, I wouldn’t have to worry about that. Angela will know what to do. This will all work itself out still.

Getting out of the car, he staggered over to the garage door and tried opening it. His right arm, where he’d been winged, chimed in along with his side in protest. Trying hard to stay calm, he pulled on the door again and it started upward, gaining momentum gradually.

A few seconds later the garage was open and Tim’s heart sank; the place was empty. He was already a little late for the rendezvous.
Where’s Angela, I hope her part of the plan went well. It must not of. That’s why there was a Scarafini thug trying to kill me at the museum.
Tim began to shake a little at this thought. His last nerve had just shattered.

He stumbled back into the car, and drove it into the garage. Getting out, he struggled to close the garage door, concealing his tracks.

*    *    *

Charles limped quickly back up into the main part of the museum. His heart was racing as he tried to decide what to do next. He desperately wanted the future item that Tim and Angela sought, but he was worried that all the noise and rumpus was going to eventually bring the heat down on the place. How much time did he have, it couldn’t be that long. Should he try and go after Tim making him retrieve it,
hell that bastard’s probably lying dead just outside the building,
or should he take a risk and go for it himself?
If I find it now, I could just go back to the gang with nobody the wiser about what happened,
he smirked to himself at the thought of their stupid faces.
On second thought, I could simply disappear leaving them stuck here forever, while I live the good life, rich and happy.
The plan was starting to have a certain appeal to it.
In fact, if I find it fast enough, I can be out of here before anyone even shows up.

Charles took his thumb and quickly began to flip through the pages of the museum log book that Tim had dropped during his hasty flight. The log appeared to be a record of everything that was in the Wong exhibit. It was basically a catalogue listing and didn’t appear to be very informative or helpful. There were pages and pages of items. Just as Charles was about to discard it, his thumb accidentally caught on a page that was different. In the margin in Tim’s handwriting was a notation. Charles had become familiar with Tim’s handwriting since reading the man’s journal on several occasions.

Well, well, what do we have here? Just touch it, what does that mean? Wait a minute that makes perfect sense. Of course, the first time you touched the medallion you could feel its immense power. Whatever this item is, it probably gives off a similar kind of sensation. What was it the Chinaman said, oh yes, the future is in your hands. Something powerful, perhaps it’s a hand tool of some type. No, the item must be a weapon something to forge the future with.

*    *    *

Angela’s eyes fluttered open slowly, pain started to flood her senses. The feeling was like her head being crushed in a vice. She closed her eyes again hoping the sensation would just go away. Unfortunately, a few minutes later things hadn’t improved any.

Once more, she opened her eyes tentatively. She was staring at the side of a cold-grey concrete wall. Her face was only inches from it. Nothing was making any sense to her.
Where am I? I feel so confused. Is this a bad dream?
An ache shot up her left side making her head explode with a fresh round of fury. Gradually, she drew her legs up and began to curl up into the fetal position.
I’m supposed to be somewhere.
The thought kept running through her addled mind. Over and over the thought played like a broken record, until suddenly the needle caught.

Angela sat up with a start. The world around her was somewhat fuzzy but inside her mind things were becoming clear. She wiped her hand across her face and could feel crusted blood and saliva built up around her mouth and nose. There was a lot of it, she realized, pulling her hand away and staring at it nervously.

Damn that Wong, I never would have figured him for this kind of betrayal. With my back turned, he took me down hard.
With the growing anger, Angela’s rock-solid resolve began to rebuild itself.
Well, Wong’s going to wish he’d finished me when I’m through with him.

She began to push herself up on her knees, brusquely straightening her dress in the process. Standing up, she looked to the right. There on the floor lay the body of what appeared to be Mr. Wong. Angela did a double take.
It can’t be, who the fu.. what the hell?

Her mind began to spin in all kinds of new directions as she wobbled over to the body. Sure enough, it was Mr. Wong. Dizziness threatened to overtake Angela but she refused to give it any heed. Her mind was way too busy with this latest development.
If it wasn’t Wong, then who? Scarafini that rat bastard, he must have had someone follow us up here. He was just dying to know what I was up to. Why kill Wong and not me? He didn’t know anything yet, maybe it was just a mistake. No, if it was a mistake you turn around and beat the information out of me. Something just doesn’t add up. The whole thing smells fishy.

With that thought, Angela finished a speedy search of Wong’s body while weighing her options. A glint of sunlight caught her gold watch, striking her on the cheek. “Oh crap,” she muttered under her breath, taking note of the time as more of the details of her predicament came flooding back to her.
I was supposed to meet Tim at the safe house hours ago. It’s five-thirty in the morning. He’s got to be worried sick, or at least I hope he is.
At that instant, Angela felt very out of control, a feeling she absolutely despised. All her carefully laid plans appeared to have gone asunder.
What if he left me behind? Where is he? Oh god, maybe he’s dead, more could have gone wrong then I know about.
Angela just stood there, frozen like a statue. Completely out of character, she couldn’t seem to formulate enough calm coherent thoughts to take any type of action. Her childhood fears of being left alone again lapping like waves on the edge of her mind. There she was, a little girl standing on the front porch of their big fancy white house. Her little sea
-
foam colored dress dancing merrily in the gentle breeze, her daddy promising to come back real soon.

The memory was too much to bear; her heart felt like it was going to burst, it was pumping so hard. The only thing banging harder was the pain in her head. It was returning full force now with a vengeance. Unconsciously, she was biting her lower lip so hard it started to bleed.
Not this time, I won’t be left behind,
she thought. Catching her right fist in the palm of her left hand several times, she began to switch direction.

I’ve got to go and find Tim. Everything will work out, my plans never fail.
Angela started to walk towards the exit door. After a couple of shaky steps, she bent down removing her high heel shoe, the other one must have broken during all the commotion. She turned the bolt unlocking the door, and headed out with a new determination.

*    *    *

Tim had been waiting all night and still not a sign from Angela. Something has gone very wrong, he felt sure of it. What he didn’t feel sure about was what to do next. Reaching into the inside pocket of his suit coat which was hanging on the back of the chair, his fingers searched for it. It only took a moment and the tips met with the smooth friendly-feeling leather cover of the journal. It was like a friend or confidante to him during this crazy journey he was on, and somehow now he felt it was going to help him yet again.

He began to write whatever came to mind. During that process, he came up with a plan B. Something he realized he and Angela should have had in the first place. How often does anything ever go according to plan? Picking up a very sharp letter opener from the desktop, he carefully cut out the last page he had just written in the journal. Then, stopping, Tim began searching through the drawers of the small desk he was sitting at. In the bottom drawer, he found what he was looking for; blank paper. He stared at it for several long minutes before pulling a sheet out and beginning the next step.

This is the Last Will and Testament of Tim Landers Bartington.

*    *    *

Thirty minutes later, Tim had completed the will, and after a short search of the house had located a pistol and some ammunition. He was going to find Angela if it was the last thing he ever did. If she could still be helped, he was going to do it or die trying.
She risked everything to help me; it’s time I stepped up.
He could feel the passion surging through him. It was an unfamiliar feeling, not normally common to his nature. He liked the sensation and feared it. The apprehension was quickly overwhelmed by the sheer force of this new emotion.  

After going to the Foshay Tower and finding no sign of her, Tim headed to Angela’s main house. He had promised he wouldn’t go there, but he was desperate and fresh out of ideas. Angela had said insistently, if anything goes wrong this would be the worst possible place to go. Yet, Tim felt like he had no other option.

He pulled up the long driveway, caution thrown to the wind. No cars occupied the driveway and none of the henchmen were mulling about. The place looked strangely cold being so deserted. Usually it was inviting in a standoffish kind of way. At least guests were usually greeted with something, not simply the nothingness that had now taken over. Jumping out of the car, Tim ran up to the mansion. The door was locked; pounding on the wood frame vigorously, he got no response whatsoever.

Tim walked the length of the long covered front porch, peering in the windows. The house seemed completely dark and unoccupied. Then, he caught something out of the corner of his eye and jumped. Taking a second look, he just smiled weakly. The sun was just starting to make an appearance. The beams were casting some ghostly shadows on the side of the house as the crest peeked up through the trees.

Tim looked at his watch; the time read five-forty-five. The rendezvous was supposed to have transpired four hours ago. He resumed his walk along the porch, climbing down the end and making his way around the side of the house. Everything continued to remain the same, dark and desolate. He almost wished it wasn’t. A confrontation, a fight, or anything would be better than more mystery.

*    *    *

After washing up a bit in the hotel restroom, Angela headed outside, trying hard not to draw attention to herself. Not that many people were out and about yet. Those few souls scurried around, already preoccupied and busy heading off to church.
What a waste of time,
she thought,
like some all knowing being is paying attention to any of us.
I have to get out of here before someone discovers Wong’s body. That’s the last thing I need right now. At least I got most of the blood off me, but this dress just doesn’t look right for this time of day.

Unconsciously, she patted her hair, trying to straighten it. She winced as her fingers encountered the large lump on the back of her head.
Someone is going to pay dearly for this.
She glanced up and down the street, realizing her guys had surely left with the car long ago.
Now what?
She thought, walking up the block and around the corner.
What the hell, I’ll just borrow someone else’s.
After surveying the situation for several more minutes, the selection had been made.

Twenty minutes later, Angela had been to the safe house and, finding no sign of Tim, had decided to drive by the museum. Passing by the front of the building, she noticed a couple of police cars standing there, the eerie flashing-red lights being the only sign of life. She cruised around the corner, observing several more squads on the side. Promptly she forced herself to look away and keep driving. This was deeply disturbing indeed. Angela decided nothing good could come from stopping. She realized her heart was racing. Was it the fear and adrenaline that comes with the possibility of getting caught or was it worry for Tim?
Worry hah, I don’t worry. That’s an emotion for suckers, and that’s not me. Still, though, it feels different this time. I’ve got to concentrate, what next? Keep driving around, go back to the safe house, or head back to the main estate? I instructed Tim not to go to the main house; should I? Then again, what other choice do I have? I need information, that’s the only way I’ll be able to formulate my next move.