Givin' Up The Ghost (An Indigo Eady Paranormal Mystery) (8 page)

Mist and fog distorted the sounds of pounding footsteps
bouncing off the stone walls so that we couldn’t tell how close our pursuers
were.

The cobblestones beneath our feet, slick from rain, made it
difficult to stay upright. We used the stone walls to keep our balance, running
our hands along the rough surface to guide us through the darkness. The
blisters popped on my burnt hand and I gasped with pain. I hurtled around a
corner and ducked into a dark stairwell, dragging Badger behind me. We tumbled
further up the stairs, breathless, into the shadows. I hoped that I hadn’t
gotten us trapped. Trying to control my heavy breathing, I peered into the
alley below for the two men.

A crashing noise reverberated down the alleyway, as if
someone had run into a garbage bin and sent it rolling downhill. Two men passed
the stairwell, their chests heaving. A voice rasped out, “We lost them.”

Still we waited. The only sound in the dark stairwell was
our own heavy breathing, when out of the shadows above us, a whispering voice said,
“Are you two going to ‘ang out in the dark ‘all, or are you going to come
inside?”

––––––––

W
e both jumped and started to bolt, but then I recognized
the voice, the way he dropped his
h’s.

“Cappy?” I whispered into the darkness.

“Yeah, it’s me.”

I tugged on Badger’s sleeve, pulling him upward. Cappy
grabbed my coat sleeve and pulled me inside a tiny, cold apartment. He led us
down a dark hall, past a closed door with light shining beneath and canned
laughter coming from a television. At the end of the corridor, he pulled a set
of wooden steps down from the ceiling. We followed him up through an attic and
out a door onto the roof. He held a finger to his lips.

“Come on,” he whispered. Crouched low, he ran through a
labyrinth of passages and chimney pots across the rooftop. Badger and I
followed.

The rooftop was like entering a different world, one where
glowing eyes blinked out of dark corners. After a few minutes, Cappy brought us
up short, and ducked down before approaching the far wall. We did the same.
Voices drifted up from the alley below, on what must have been the next street
over from where we entered. We peeked over the wall and spied two men standing
in the narrow alleyway, talking.

“They got away,” said the taller of the two men, “do you
think they suspected we was followin’ them?”

“Nah,” said the shorter, potbellied man. “How could they? It
were dark and raining, weren’t it?” He said it like the other man was
simple-minded. “Let’s get outta here and report in.”

The tall man wiped his nose on his sleeve. “Do we have to?”
“The boss ain’t gonna like this.” They walked away down the alley.

“Come on,” said Cappy, “we’ll talk inside.” We made our way
back over the rooftops to the apartment. I was completely lost and glad that
Cappy was there to guide us. 

Back inside, we walked silently down the hall, passing once
again the closed door with the muted television sounds.

“Are your parent’s home?” I asked.

“I live with my grandmother,” Cappy answered. “She’s
watching the tube. We can talk in the kitchen.”

Sitting in the tiny kitchen with hot mugs of tea, Badger
asked, “Do you know who they were?”

“Yeh,” said Cappy. “Those two are bad news, they are. The
short one is Billy Radcliffe, and the other one is ‘is brother, Ralph.” He
sipped his tea. “What does that lot want with you two, anyway?”

Neither of us answered.

“I get it,” said Cappy, shrugging. “None of my business,
right?”

On Wednesday morning I jogged through the village, keeping
away from the ginnels (that would be
alleys
in American English), when I
ran into Cappy with a group of boys crossing the town square. He wore jeans and
a red sweat-jacket. The hoodie hid his face, but I recognized his frame and
slight hunch.

I sprinted across the square, calling his name.

He turned and waited for me. The other boys stared
curiously, but Cappy said he would catch up with them and they moved on.

Slightly breathless, I said, “I wanted to thank you for last
night, for coming to our rescue. I know you didn’t have to, and I appreciate
it.”

“No problem,” he answered. “Always willin’ to help a damsel
in distress.” He was cocky, but the look on his face was dead serious. He
pushed his hands into his pockets and looked around. “‘Sides, I owed you one,
like, for that ‘eads up you gave me the other day.”

“Oh, that. No big deal.” I shrugged.

“How did you know?” he asked, tilting his head.

Cappy was a street-smart kid. If my vision came true, then
of course his curiosity about me would be aroused.

I looked around, played with a thread on my coat, cleared my
throat. “It’s a secret.”

“You can trust me, ya know?” he said. “Just because I ‘ang
around with that lot,” he jerked his head in the direction of the ragtag crew
of boys, “don’t mean I ain’t trustworthy.”

I believed him. “All right, then. But what I tell you has to
remain a secret. No one else can know. Not any of your friends. No one.”

He nodded in agreement.

“I have the second sight,” I said. “When I shook your hand
the other day, I had a flash of what might happen, in my head, if you went to
the park.” 

He was silent.

Rainwater dripped from the eave overhead. Muted
conversations drifted from across the square. A burst of laughter erupted from
the Blind Badger.

And still Cappy didn’t say anything. He only looked at me
and waited for me to continue.

“I’m psychic, but I’m better at speaking to ghosts.” Still
mute, wondering if I was yanking his chain, no doubt. I waited until he arrived
at the only conclusion possible.

His voice was low when he leaned in to speak. “I believe
you. You saved me from all sorts of aggro by not going there. A bloke got
stabbed. Coulda been me. I owe you.”

“Thank you. It means a lot to me – and you won’t tell?” I
was shaky, and not used to telling my secret to anyone, let alone a virtual
stranger.

“Nah. We all have our secrets, don’t we?”

I raised my eyebrows. “Yeah. Some more than others.” The
sarcasm wasn’t lost on him. He grinned.

“So what can I do for you?” he asked.

“You know these streets. You know people and places that I
don’t.”

“Yeah. I’m sure that’s true.” He waited.

“We could use your help,” I said. I looked around to be sure
we weren’t overheard. “Could you meet us later at the pub? Come through the
alley, er, ginnel - nine o’clock. We’ll be in the back snug.”

“Is this about last night?” he asked.

“Yes. I’ll explain everything later.”

He nodded. “All right then.” 

Cappy took a ribbing from his friends when he rejoined them.
“You hooking up with that broad?” a rough looking boy had asked, accompanied by
catcalls and smooching noises. “Get on with you,” he answered.

The Blind Badger bustled that Wednesday evening due to the
holidays. A few couples sat at smaller tables, candlelight casting romantic
glows on their faces in the muted lighting. The big round table near the
fireplace was occupied as usual, a group of tourists drinking and laughing
loudly.

Ghostly revelers occupied empty tables. All men, they
cat-called their appreciation of a lone seventeenth century serving girl. She
wore a white chemise under a black bodice vest and brown billowy skirt with
apron, her white mop cap bobbing as she floated around the tables. She laughed,
expertly dodging and slapping at wandering hands as she served frothy mugs of
ale.

Bart sat in his usual seat at the bar, reading the
newspaper. Agatha’s spirit served alongside Charlie the bartender. I wondered
if she was waiting to cross over with Bart. After the snug storm, he seemed to
only interact with her, oblivious to anyone else, living or dead.

And in a dusky corner a shadow hovered, faceless, evil
pouring out in waves. The Dark Shadow again. Eyeless and menacing, robbing me
of breath.

I gasped. My heart plummeted to my toes. .

Simon turned. “What is it?” He glanced around the room but
didn’t see it.

“The Shadow. In the corner,” I whispered, pointing with a
shaky hand.

“Come on.” He took my arm and led me down the crooked hall.
“Bloody thing.”

The snug was warm, with a cozy fire burning in the grate,
and the smell of fresh coffee brewing.

“Are you all right now?” Simon whispered, trying to be
discreet. I didn’t like to talk about the Shadow.

His gaze settled on my face, but I only nodded, not making
eye contact, trying to still my shaking hands enough to pour a cup of coffee.

A few minutes later the back door quietly closed and light
footsteps made their way to the snug.

A tap on the door and our visitor came in.

I stood up.  “Everyone, this is Cappy.”

“Who the bloody hell is he?” demanded Simon.

––––––––

C
appy leaned nonchalantly in the doorway, straight-faced and
apparently unaffected by the tension he caused.

“I invited him to this meeting,” I said. “I think he can
help us.” Yes, I was squirming. I brought a stranger into our midst and was
about to tell him our secrets.

“How do
you
know him and why is he here?” Simon
growled. The glower in his eyes was not encouraging.

“Yeah, how
do
you know him?” chimed in Badger,
looking Cappy up and down with a frown. He had met him last night in a
not-so-nice neighborhood, but since he basically rescued us, he hadn’t stopped
to question it then. But now?

I had to admit, Cappy didn’t make the best first impression,
looking like the
artful dodger
and all. Tonight he wore his filthy
chimney-sweep coat with the over-long sleeves rolled up, and a cap sitting
askew upon his head. His cheeks were smudged with charcoal and his scraggly
brown hair hung in his eyes. I was pretty sure he looked that way on purpose,
to antagonize the gang, so they’d know he didn’t care what they thought.

I sighed and shook my head. Little dude needed to learn how
to pick and choose his rebellious moments better.

“I picked a strange kid off the street and brought him here
because it sounded like a fun way to let him pick our pockets!” My sarcasm did
not impress them. I rolled my eyes. “He’s our chimney sweep and my new friend.”
I indicated to Cappy that he should take the empty seat next to me. Observing
the suspicious looks of Badger and Simon, prudence said to keep the little guy
close to me. He might require my protection before the night was out. “And he
also just happened to save our arse’s last night,” I reminded Badger. “Or don’t
you remember?” I said with raised eyebrows. It didn’t change his mutinous
expression. But I did have fun saying
arse
, like a true Brit.

Figuring that was as good as it got for the moment, I
introduced Cappy around. “You know Badger, that’s his sister Riley, and this is
my cousin, Simon.” They nodded in his direction, but still eyed him
suspiciously. “I’m vouching for him,” I added. Surprised when nobody called me
out on it, I realized we had the whole night ahead of us for that.

With a cheery fire in the fireplace and five bodies in damp
clothing stuffed into the small room, the snug became muggy. Condensation
gathered on the foggy window before meandering down the panes like slow-moving
snakes. I kept forgetting that Christmas was quickly approaching until the
colorful blinking lights rimming the snug window forced me to remember. I
wished we could skip December all together. January was looking pretty good
from where I sat.

I explained to Cappy that Badger and Riley had questions
about what had been going on in their dad’s life before his disappearance.

“I suspect that was why we were followed last night. We were
asking questions and making someone nervous,” I said. 

“So who’ve you told then?” asked Cappy. “About the
investigation, I mean.”

Silence echoed loudly in the little snug. All heads turned
to Badger. We hadn’t forgotten who was in charge of this, er, inquiry.

“What investigation? Who said anything about an
investigation?” asked Badger harshly, pinning Cappy to the spot like a fly under
a flyswatter. He had been playing with a stained beer coaster, twirling it
one-handed through nimble fingers, but stopped abruptly. 

Cappy raised his eyebrows. “Come on, mate. You go around
asking questions about your dad and now those lowlifes are tailing you. By now,
whoever did this knows you lot are snooping.”

Badger scowled, but Cappy had pinned the tail directly on
the donkey’s butt.

“He’s right,” I said. “Someone is on to us. Or at least
they’re nervous about us asking questions. They can’t have any idea what we’re
really up to. At least not yet.”

“Any number of people could know where we were and the kind
of questions we asked by now,” said Badger. “Obviously we’ve hit a nerve.”

I turned to Badger. “And obviously,” I pointed out, “we
haven’t been discreet.”

“I never said I knew what I was doing.” His eyes drew
together in a frown and his shoulders stiffened as he turned his focus to the
twirling coaster.

Last night might never have happened. I don’t know what I
expected. He made it clear that the kiss was all part of the ruse. Just a fake
make-out session between a fake couple. All for the cause. I wouldn’t think
about it. At least, not until I got home. Then I might dissect the whole
relationship, or lack of one, under a high-powered microscope.

I turned my attention back to the conversation without a
blink. That’s how good I am. 

“None of us do,” said Simon.

“No, we don’t.” I agreed, back to focusing on the situation
at hand. “But now we’re being followed, so someone suspects something. It
doesn’t necessarily mean they know for sure we’re investigating. I think
they’re probably keeping an eye on us for now. It means we need to be more
careful.”

“What about last night?” Riley asked. For a nanosecond, me
and my one-track mind assumed she meant the “kiss.” But then she followed with,
“Did you get any useful information out of Nat?” Her head was bent, shiny hair
tucked behind ruby-studded ears, scrolling through her cell phone. The question
was the only outward sign that she paid attention to the conversation.

Heated mutterings of
blasted phone
kept escaping
under Riley’s breath and a frown of frustration wrinkled her forehead. The
ghostly serving girl, the one I saw coming in, hung over her shoulder. A look
of rapt wonder shone from her eyes. She had copied Riley and used her finger to
scroll through messages. The action was counter to what Riley tried to do.

“Only that he thinks Dad and Shelly were having an affair.
He was rat-arsed, of course, so he pretty much spewed all sorts of venom about
them. But...” Badger looked at me and so did the others.

That was my cue. “I shook his hand,” I added, “then I had a
vision of him shaking Shelly - rather violently.” I held up my bandaged hand.
Simon had applied burn cream to it last night, but, even hours later, tiny
blisters were still popping up.

“
Blimey
,” exclaimed Cappy. “I never ‘eard such a
thing!”

Neither had the others, I could tell, but I shrugged it off.

“And where do I come in to all this?” asked Cappy. 

“Like I said earlier,” I began. “You know these streets
better than we do. You have the ability to blend in better than we would, in
certain areas.”

I shifted on the bench and crossed my legs, wincing when the
damaged skin on my knee stretched. I was still recovering from the last injury.

Cappy said nothing, so I continued.

“I’d like you to follow Billy and Ralph, see what they’re up
to, where they go.”

“He shouldn’t ask any questions, though,” added Simon,
looking around the table. “That could be too dangerous...”

“...they must know all of us by now...” added Badger.

“...and stay hidden, of course,” Riley put in.

Cappy whipped his head from side to side as everyone began
speaking at once.

“...We would pay you, of course...” I said.

“‘old on a minute.” Cappy held up both hands. “First,” he
said, looking at me, “I don’t want to be paid. I owe you one, remember? And I
always pay me debts.”

Everyone’s eyes turned to me. Explaining that I gave him
useful advice that paid off would have taken too much time and taken us off
track, so a shrug would have to suffice.

“And second, you lot are gonna get ‘urt if I don’t,” he
said.

I sighed. This whole thing would work a whole lot better if
Cappy wasn’t so cocky. The others didn’t trust him and he was determined to
show them he didn’t care.

Riley shut her phone with a frustrated snap and tucked it
into her back pocket. “How about a break?”

The serving girl, slightly put out, drifted away.

Riley returned ten minutes later with a plate of sandwiches
and crisps. That would be
potato chips
in American English.

“Leftovers, anyone?” She set the plates down in the middle
of the table. We pounced on the sandwiches like piranhas that hadn’t eaten in a
while. Cappy slipped a sandwich into his right pocket while grabbing another
with his left.

Simon peeled back the edge of his bread to find a creamy
smeared meat. “Liverwurst.” He disgustedly dropped the sandwich back onto his
plate and grabbed another. When that one turned out to be liverwurst, too, he
picked up a bag of salt and vinegar crisps and slumped back onto the bench.

The laughter broke the tension in the room for the first
time.

“I’ll take that if you’re not gonna eat it,” said Cappy. He
finished the two triangles of sandwich in four bites, before starting on
another sandwich. We watched in amazement. Where did the little guy put it
all? 

“So,” said Cappy around a bite of his cheese and tomato
sandwich, “what do you want me to do?”

I swallowed a bite of ham and swiss. “First, tell us
everything you know about Billy and Ralph Radcliffe.”

“All right,” said Cappy. “They’re small-time crooks. Billy
‘as a legit job as a mechanic – they say ‘e’s pretty good. But I ‘appen to know
he does other stuff on the side.”

“Like what?” asked Badger, finishing his sandwich and
leaning back on the bench.

Simon took notes as Cappy spoke.

“’e’s a thief. ‘e keeps the shopkeepers busy while Ralph
steals them blind. Then they flog the stuff.” He brushed the crumbs from his
hands and continued. “Course, Billy has ‘is brother do the thieving so ‘e don’t
get busted for nuthin’. Ralph, ‘e don’t ‘ave no job, ‘e’s not too bright, that
one.”

“Anything else?” Simon’s writing hand paused over the board
as he glanced up.

“Well, I asked ‘round, after last night an’ all.” He held up
his hands when I started to protest. “I was discreet, don’t worry. As I was
sayin’,” he began, “I
discreetly
checked ‘round, and turns out, ‘e
disguises cars, too.”

“Huh?” I said. My confusion was mirrored on the other’s
faces.

“I mean,” said Cappy, “that ‘e takes stolen cars from
people, paints them, makes other modifications, shows them how to file the VIN
number off so ‘e don’t get ‘is own ‘ands dirty, and then gives the car back -
for a fee.”

“So nothing can be proved against him if he gets caught,”
added Riley.

“That’s right, luv,” said Cappy, winking at Riley. Her
flat-eyed stare revealed her displeasure at the over-familiar euphemism.

“Knock it off, Cappy,” I admonished. What we didn’t need was
for Badger or Simon to sock him one for being disrespectful.

“Sorry,” he said, grinning. “No offense intended.” 

Badger continued with the conversation. “All he has to do is
insist on a phony customer name – no reason to ask for identification – paint
the car for a small fee, and write it up as a more expensive repair.”

“And then,” I put in, “the customer turns around and sells
the car at a much higher price.” I was catching on.

“Yes, but he won’t have the paper trail,” said Simon
practically. “If he somehow gets caught, he won’t have receipts for the items
he installed in the car – say, a transmission – and the car won’t have the new
transmission installed, which can easily be proved.”

“Unless,” said Cappy, “‘e’s written it up as a used
transmission. And receipts are easy to come by. Pass some lolly across the
parts-man’s palms and Bob’s-your-uncle.”

“Okay. Did you find out anything else?” I asked. “Like, is
he violent?”

“‘e’s been in a few bust-ups, but nothing serious,” answered
Cappy. “’e don’t like getting’ ‘is ‘ands dirty, like I said.” He grinned at the
pun.

Yeah, yeah, I got it – a mechanic who didn’t like to get his
hands dirty.

“How do you know all this?” I asked.

“I’ve got me sources now, don’t I?” said Cappy. “And you’ll
‘preciate that I ‘ave to protect them, right? Trust me.”

Badger, Simon and Riley eyed him warily.

“I trust you. Thank you for the information. The question
now is, what do we do with it?” I asked.

“Obviously they were following for a reason,” said Simon.
“Word got around pretty quickly that we were asking questions.”

“They were hired by someone,” said Badger. He turned to
Riley. “Did you notice any strangers hanging around acting suspicious?”

Riley shook her head. “No. But strangers come into the pub
all the time, especially during the holidays, so I might not notice anyway.”

“Well, from here on out, we all need to be especially
careful,” I said. “We need to have eyes in the backs of our heads.”

They all nodded in agreement.

“So here is where Cappy comes in.” I turned to Cappy.
“You’re known in the area where Billy and Ralph hang out, so you wouldn’t
necessarily stand out like we would.”

Cappy nodded his understanding. “What am I looking for?”

“Take note of where they go, what they buy, who comes to
their house, to the business, who Billy’s customers are, where they’re hanging
out. We especially want to know who they’re talking to, particularly Billy.”

“That works fine as long as they’re together,” said Cappy.
“And obviously I can’t watch them 24/7. I’ll ‘ave to get my gang to help.” He
held his hand up when the others began to object. “I don’t ‘ave to tell them
why. They’re loyal.”

Footsteps echoing down the passage toward the snug brought
us up short...