Last Ghost at Gettysburg (23 page)

“Who are you and what do you want?” he said
firmly. He nearly jumped when his guest briefly flicked on a
hand-held flashlight that illuminated his face. “It’s me, Coach,”
said Rudy Herzog. “I don’t think I’m supposed to be doing this, but
I’ve gotta talk to you.”

“Where’s your cruiser?”

“I’m off duty. My Toyota’s parked a couple
blocks away.”

“Okay, come around back and we’ll talk in the
garage after I put this ice cream in the fridge.”

That being done, he returned to the garage
side door and let Herzog inside. With a flip of a switch they were
in another world. A weight machine dominated the room whose walls
were lined with photos from Darcy’s playing and coaching days,
along with his framed Michigan State home jersey. Everything was
tastefully done, from the color-coordinated rubber matting on the
floor to the walls and drop ceiling.

“Wow,” was all Herzog could manage.

“Yeah, well, this garage was a former storage
barn, so when I had it renovated Terri let me have a smaller room
for myself. Its selling point was the money it would save me for
not having to join a gym.”

Herzog made his way around the perimeter of
the room, taking in the framed team photos going all the way back
to Darcy’s high school days. His gaze found Mike’s senior photo
from Michigan State, a posed shot with the linebacker on one knee,
looking very serious. “Didn’t know you had that much hair, Coach,”
he said, noting Mike’s practically shoulder-length locks which shot
out in all directions.

“What can I say? It was the ‘70s,” was his
somewhat embarrassed answer.

“Am I up on the wall?” said Rudy, fingering a
dumbbell rack with pairs of weights from ten to fifty pounds.

“Other side of the room, on the left.”

“Yup. Here’s my senior year. We had a good
team.”

“You guys were hard workers, the whole lot of
you. And Rudy, you were a good captain. Now, let’s stop beating
around the bush. What brings you here tonight?”

“Okay,” said the policeman, jamming his hands
in his back pockets the way he used to in high school when he was
caught doing something wrong. “The Chief came to see me today. You
know, I’ve been on the desk since that incident I’ve told you about
when I wrecked the car. Well, he’s taking me off.”

“That’s great. Listen, Rudy, if you’re having
any doubts about your abilities as an officer, forget it. You’re
this community’s last line of defense.”

“Not a very good one, I’m afraid.”

“That’s bull. Let me tell you a story.

“When I was a sophomore at MSU, we had to go
play Ohio State, who had this running back named Archie
Griffin.”

“He won the Heisman two years in a row,
right?”

“Yeah. Well, I’m playing middle linebacker,
and Griffin started shredding our defensive line. Guys were
bouncing off him like tennis balls. So during a time out our head
coach grabbed me by my facemask and yelled, “Goldang it, Darcy,
you’re supposed to be our last line of defense! It’s time for you
to step it up, son!”

“So what happened?”

“Well, we still lost, but I ended up with
like twenty-five tackles. Far and away my best performance. But
what’s more important, when I walked off the field that day I could
hold my head high because I knew I’d done my job. That’s all this
community asks of you. So don’t worry about what the Chief might
say or think.”

“I appreciate the pep talk, Coach, but that’s
not what’s really bothering me. See, in my conversation with Chief
Warren,
your
name came up.”

“My name?”

“Yup. It was kind of an intentional throw-in
when he was telling me I should go to him first with any issues
regarding this case. You’re not in any trouble, are you,
Coach?”

“Not that I know of. But my own boss, who I
know is tight with the Chief, has been keeping tabs on me as well.
And he questioned me about the guns I own and how and when I use
them.”

“You have a .44 just like the one used in the
murders, right?”

“Yeah, and those guys know they’re free to
look at it if they have any suspicions, ‘cause I’ve got nothing to
hide.”

“Listen, Coach, I wasn’t suggesting—”

“I know you weren’t, Rudy. And I appreciate
that you took a risk coming over here to give me a heads up.”

“You’d have done it for me.”

“Tell you what. If you hear anything from
here on out just call me on my cell phone. You’d best not be seen
around my house for a while.”

“Okay.”

Darcy clapped his former player on the
shoulder, trying to lighten the mood. “So, you excited for
Reenactment Week?”

“This year? I’ll be glad when it’s over. I’ve
got an uneasy feeling about it. Like something’s gonna happen. You
suiting up this year?”

“Yeah, my buddies talked me into it. Watch,
it’ll probably be ninety-five degrees and humid and we’ll be dying
out there.”

“Just like two-a-days?”

Darcy chuckled. “Let me tell you something.
We coaches hated them as much as you guys. A necessary evil.”

“But they were good days, right?”

“The best.”

The two shook hands and Herzog slipped out
the side door and made for his car. Mike was just locking up when
Terri poked her head out the kitchen window. “Are we going to eat
this black cherry ice cream or not?”

“Be right there,” he said, jogging up the
back deck steps to the rear door. When he entered she was waiting
for him, hands on hips.

“Who were you talking to?”

“Rudy Herzog. The kid’s pretty shook up.
Whenever something bad goes down, he seems to be nearby.”

“And what else?”

“Well, tongues are wagging. For some reason,
there are people who think that I, and maybe the kids, I guess, are
involved in this ghost business.”

“Well, you
are
.”

“I
know
we are, dear, but it’s not
like we’ve been broadcasting it all over.”

“Remember, Mike, Gettysburg is a small town,
and in a small town it’s hard to keep secrets.”

“I guess.”

Just then the crack of thunder shook the
house. Seconds later, rain began pelting down. “Should I go pick up
the kids?” he said.

“Might as well,” sighed Terri, exasperated.
“But I’m eating the black cherry without you!”

He kissed her on the forehead then held her
tightly.

“I’m scared for all of you,” she
murmured.

“Don’t worry, it’ll be okay,” he reassured
her, his lips buried in her hair.

“We’re supposed to be taking care of those
boys. They’re our responsibility. But they’re just kids. And our
daughter’s the worst of the bunch. She thinks she’s
bulletproof.”

“Terri, we’ve raised her to believe in
herself and not be timid.”

“But this is different, Mike. When you get
them in the truck,
please
tell them to be cautious.”

“Will do,” he said, grabbing his keys and
going out once again. “Call over to the Inn and tell them to tell
LouAnne I’ll be picking them up.” The rain was coming down harder
as he sprinted for the truck, his wife standing silently in the
doorway, offering a weak wave.

He found the three would-be ghost hunters
huddled together under an umbrella on the steps of the Charney
Inn, deep in conversation. As he pulled up they bolted into the
car, trying to evade the steady summer shower.

Before Mike could even open his mouth,
LouAnne blurted, “Daddy, you won’t believe what T.J. and Bortnicker
did!”

“What was that?”

“They came to my rescue!”

“What?”

“Mr. Darcy,” explained Bortnicker calmly, “it
seems a seventeenish patron of the restaurant had one too many
cocktails and tried to hit on your daughter during her final
performance. T.J. and I had walked around town and bought an ice
cream, and then tagged along on the end of one of Carlton Elway’s
ghost tours for a bit, which was actually quite entertaining.
Luckily we got back to the Inn just in time for the last show,
during which this smarmy prepster-type guy with golf shirt, khakis
and top-siders asked her a few dopey questions that were so stupid
they made the other people uncomfortable.”

“I tried to divert him without embarrassing
him, Daddy,” frowned LouAnne, “but the guy was one of those Ivy
League types who’s always trying to show everybody how smart he is.
I couldn’t wait for it to be over so I could just get out of
there.

“So I finished up and thanked everybody and
while the people are leaving he comes over and introduces himself.
Get this, his name was Clifford Pangborn III, and he says, ‘but you
can call me Cliff.’”

“And then what?” said Mike, his anger
rising.

“And then, boom! T.J. and Bortnicker were in
his face, and T.J. says, ‘No, my friend, I think we’ll call you
gone
!’ The guy was so surprised he just kind of slunk away
down the stairs.”

Mike chuckled. “Nice job, guys. Good to know
my daughter has two bodyguards.” He paused as they stopped at a
red light. “Listen, I had a visitor tonight, Rudy Herzog.”

“The cop?” said LouAnne.

“Yes, who used to play for me at the high
school. The gist of what he told me is that my boss Bruce Morrison
and the police chief have been throwing my name around lately and
yours as well.”

“Us?” said T.J. “What for?”

“T.J.,” answered Mike patiently, “I don’t
know how small Fairfield is, but Gettysburg is a
real
small
place. Word gets around. You guys have had a run-in with Carlton
Elway, who’s a notorious busybody, and Mary Ellen Landon, who’s a
legendary
one. What I’m saying is, if you three are going to
go through with this cockamamie idea of yours tomorrow night, it’s
got to be done right, like a Navy SEAL mission.”

“What do you suggest?” said T.J., his
excitement rising.

“Well, I know exactly the right place to drop
you guys, but we’ve got to go through the house and find all the
darkest clothes we’ve got to make you invisible out there.”

“Why don’t we just buy some?” asked
LouAnne.

“Too obvious, my dear, the wrong people will
notice,” said Bortnicker.

“Exactly,” said Mike. “But like we said, I
want radio, er, cell phone contact at all times. This may be the
only shot you get. Once Reenactment Week starts the battlefield
will be crawling with patrollers, if it isn’t already.”

“Daddy,” said LouAnne, “if we get caught,
will you get in trouble?”

“Bigtime,” said Mike, staring through the
windshield wipers. “But this is important to you guys, and I think
it’s also the right thing to do.”

“Alright, Mr. D!” cried Bortnicker.

“Easy, son. That doesn’t mean I’m happy about
all this. Neither is Mrs. Darcy.”

“I was thinking about our visit to the
Research Center today,” said T.J., switching gears. “It seems to me
that this guy became such a maniac on the battlefield because he
was trying to make up for what he was accused of back in
Charleston.”

“Shooting that guy in the duel?” said
LouAnne.

“Exactly. That’s why I just can’t buy the
idea that he wimped out and deserted when things got hot during Day
Three. What I think happened is that he did mysteriously die during
the battle, but then the people back in Charleston, especially that
Mary Londoner babe, spread the dirt about him to justify blowing
him off after the duel.”

“Sounds plausible,” said Mike.

“Also sounds like you want to clear his
name,” said Bortnicker.

“Well, if that happens along the way, fine,”
said T.J. “But it just proves why it’s so important we talk to
him.”

“Alright, then,” said Mike as they pulled
into the Darcys’ gravel driveway. “Let’s get a hold of Mrs. Darcy
and make us some commando outfits.”

Chapter Twenty-Six

Any doubt that LouAnne’s “illness” was
lingering was dispelled immediately the next morning when T.J.
descended the stairs from his room to find her sitting on the
bottom step, lacing up her running shoes. “’Bout time, Sleepy
Head,” she joked.

“Well, excuse me, Miss Day Off,” he
countered.

They went outside, where last night’s showers
had produced a dense fog that had yet to burn off. “Humid, but no
sun yet,” observed T.J. “Perfect!”

“I have a new route to show you. Break the
monotony,” said his cousin as they completed their stretches.

“Sounds good to me,” said T.J., rising from
the dew-laden grass of the front yard. They began, as always, with
a slow, easy jog that would soon quicken.

“Psyched for tonight?” she asked.

“I don’t know if that’s the right word,” he
answered, “but I am kinda excited.”

“How about Bortnicker?”

“Are you kidding? He’s already prepared a
list of questions he wants to ask Hilliard. I’m pretty sure none of
them are stupid or offensive. I think a lot of it will depend on
how
he asks them. He drives all the teachers crazy back at
school.”

“I’ve been meaning to ask, has his mother
called or emailed him since he’s been here?”

“Not as far as I can tell, unless he’s just
keeping it to himself.”

“What’s up with that?”

“Well, he’d probably say something weak like,
‘She just wants me to learn to be on my own, blah blah blah,’ but
deep down it must bother him a lot. She’s just so weird and into
herself with all her feng shui stuff that I wonder if she’s even
noticed he’s not around.”

“Does she have any boyfriends?”

“There have been a couple guys I can
remember, but Bortnicker hasn’t managed to warm up to them. But,
put yourself in their place. If you were dating this lady, who’s
actually kind of pretty and has an okay personality, and she
introduces you to her son, who asks you all kinds of goofy
questions and behaves like a weirdo, would you still come
around?”

“I see what you’re saying.” They stepped it
up, entering the park near the Culp’s Hill observation tower. The
first cannons and monuments whooshed by. “You looking forward to
high school, Cuz?” she asked.