Tansy Taylor (6 page)

I listened closely, trying to identify the other voice. I didn’t recognize it and it sounded like it belonged to an older man, maybe in his sixties. I knew that Mr. Big was older, and that his car was outside. My obvious assumption was that he was the owner of the unknown voice.

“So, we are on for Saturday night then? You come down to the dock and we do business?” the Russian asked.

“Ya, ya, I’ll be there. I need to know that you’re going to have the containers ready to go. I don’t need any more trouble with botched deliveries,” Mr. Big said.

“Nyet. That was your guy, not mine that was causing problems. And now he is out of the way, permanently. “We’re still looking for the files; we know he made a copy. They weren’t on him like your man said. So, you make sure your guys are in this for sure and don’t get no second thoughts, da?” Who was the Russian talking about? Buster? What files?

I heard someone take a long puff off a cigar and then smelled the sweet scent as it drifted down in the air. I felt a sneeze creeping up on me. Not what I needed right now, I thought.

“Yes, that was unfortunate. I thought that Mr. Popov said no one would get hurt, and then you go and get rid of my guy.” Big sounded a bit put out.

More cigar puffing and my sneeze was building. I was going to have to try and get out of here soon or I would most definitely be found out. I scooted back into the corner as far as I could and wrapped my scarf around my face to try and ward off the urge to sneeze.

“He said he was not happy about the arrangement. Mr. Popov does not tolerate the possibility of a problem. We know that guy copied files. The boss said he had to go, so he went.” Dmitri snapped his fingers accentuating his point.

I felt a cool breeze on my arm and turned to see Buster sitting next to me. I couldn’t risk saying anything, so I tried to mime.

Buster looked puzzled. “You want to know what? What are you doing?”

I made the zip my lips motion and pointed up toward the voices.

He nodded. “Oh, you can’t talk because they will hear you. Got it.” He floated up toward the men.

I shrugged my shoulders and tried to make a questioning face while pointing at the voices. I suck at charades and am usually the last one picked for Pictionary as well. I had no idea if Buster could tell what I was trying to convey.

The voices moved off back out into the lot, and I couldn’t make out what they were saying any more. Buster floated down into the pit and sat down next to me.

“Did you recognize the voices? Was one of them Mr. Big?” I whispered to Buster.

He nodded. “Ya, Mr. Big was there. I don’t know the other guy, but I kind of recognized his voice. I know I’ve heard it somewhere before, that accent, you know.” He reached up and scratched his chin in contemplation.

“It sounded like they were talking about some type of business deal, and some files. Does that sound familiar? It sounded like it might be illegal, and that whoever Mr. Big had sent the last time had ended up dead because he stole some copied files or something. What if it was you?” I watched Buster mull this around but there was no sign that it seemed familiar.

I heard the sound of a door shut across the lot and then the sound of a car engine.

“Let’s get out of this pit; I need to get back to Callie.” I crawled forward, my hand landing in some type of gunk. I could feel dampness on my skirt as well. “What is this hole anyway?” I tried wiping my hand on my skirt but it just stuck to it. I pulled it free with my other hand and gagged; this was gross, almost as bad as the dumpster.

“It’s an old service pit. We use it occasionally to change oil and other fluids. Not too often though, since we have the new service area. This one is mostly for overflow.”

“Yuck!” I said as my foot slid in what felt like an oil slick.

“Ya, it’s pretty gross down here. Glad that I can’t get dirty. You’re probably a mess by now; but on the positive side, you are probably looking more and more like a bum.”

“If I could I would punch you about now.” I crawled my way out of the pit and wiped my hands on my skirt. It was still almost pitch black and I couldn’t see where I was going.

“Just move forward, the path is clear to the door.” At least I had Buster to direct me. I cautiously poked my head out from the door and saw that the Cadillac was still parked in the lot.

“That’s Big’s Caddy,” noted Buster. “He must still be here. Look, there’s a light on in one of the back offices.” My gaze traveled to the dealership showroom. There was indeed a light coming from one of the offices in the back of the building.

“Why don’t you go see what he’s up to?” I asked. Buster nodded and headed back over to the showroom building. He melted into the wall and I took out my radio. It crackled to life.

“Callie? You there? Over.” Static echoed off the walls of the buildings and I felt like I stood out like a sore thumb. I crept back over to the shadows near the wall that Buster had disappeared through.

“Where have you been? I was so worried! I was going to come and find you!” More static and then, “Over!”

“Sorry! I had to go silent for a bit. Mr. Big was here talking to some Russian guy. Sorry! Over!” I cringed. I did not need her wandering into the dealership when just moments ago Big was talking about someone getting ‘taken care of.’

“I’m just going to hang out here for a bit more, see if I can see what Mr. Big is up to and then I’ll be back. Give me another ten minutes. Over.” I let go of the button, cringing against the echo of the static again.

“Fine, but be careful. Over.” Static crackled over the line and I flipped the switch to off.

“Boo!” came a voice from behind and I jumped about out of my skin. I spun around and this time I was face to face with a toothless man who looked to be about eighty and covered in tattered rags.

“You see me!” he said and started to do a little jig; he was not tall and reminded me instantly of a leprechaun dancing around a pot of gold, except in this case it was his duffle bag and dirty bed roll. He was chanting ‘you see me’ and dancing around in circles. This must be the ghost that Buster had mentioned. He seemed to be a bit off his rocker.

“Um, hello? Excuse me?” I tried to get his attention, but he seemed fully involved in his little dance. I went back to sitting in the shadows waiting for Buster to come back and report.

“Hey, girlie, you can see me!” The homeless ghost was now standing in front of me flapping up and down.

“Yes, I can see you and hear you.” I said. “What’s your name?”

“Clucky!” he yelled at me. I raised one eyebrow.

“Your name is Clucky?” I asked. He continued to do his little dance and was now flapping his arms in a definite chicken fashion. He ignored my question and I realized that I was staring slack jaw at his little performance. For a moment I had a surreal experience of watching myself, dressed as a hobo watching a hobo ghost do a chicken dance around his duffle bag. I shook my head.

Just in time, before I completely lost it, I saw Buster come back out the wall a few feet away. He glanced and Clucky and shook his head. “I see you met Francis-otherwise known as Clucky.” He chuckled.

“So, what did you find out?” I asked, trying my hardest to ignore the show still going on in front of me.

Buster scratched his head. “Well, I’m not sure exactly. I saw Big take a book out of a wall safe that’s behind a picture in his office. It looked like some sort of accounting book. I’m no good with business smarts, but it looked like there was a list of cars with prices next to them. The thing is, I’m not sure what it all meant.”

Behind him the light in the office went out. I ducked quickly back into the shadows and crept toward the dumpster. The outer door to the showroom opened and I heard the click of the lock as the tumblers fell into place.

“Eek!” I screeched, unable to control myself as I jumped up and grabbed onto the nasty dumpster lid.

“What? Are you crazy?! Do you want him to hear you?” Buster said.

“Something just ran over my foot!” I hissed, and shuddered again. My voice was just barely a whisper, but I saw Mr. Big stop midstride. Illuminated by the street lamp he had an ominous shadow about him. He glanced around and then appearing satisfied that he was alone, continued on to his car.

“Phew, that was close. Next time just tell me it’s my imagination and that there are no rats,” I said moving quickly out from behind the dumpster.

Buster laughed. “Sorry, I keep forgetting that you can still feel all that. I can’t, so it doesn’t seem to bother me much any more. Back when I was alive I was petrified of any kind of rodents. Callie thought it was hilarious that I was afraid of even a tiny field mouse.”

“Oh, speaking of Callie, I’ve got to get back to the car before she decides that something has happened and starts walking over here on her own.”

Buster suddenly looked as though someone had run over his puppy. “Something wrong?” I asked.

He gave me a sarcastic smile, “besides the obvious, you mean?”

“Touche. Ya, besides the obvious, I mean.” I smiled.

“Actually, would you mind doing me a favor?” He was shifting his weight from foot to the other and his hands were in his back pockets. My heart warmed just looking at him.

“Sure, you name it.”

“Can you, I mean, would you please give Callie a big hug for me?” If a ghost could blush, he would be. Who knew he would be so sentimental.

“Sure. I’ll tell her that I felt your presence and that it seemed to tell me that she needed a hug. How’s that? Not too far from the truth.”

“Thanks. I know that she probably needs a big one. This has got to be killing her.” He kicked at a pebble in front of his foot, swishing through it each time.

“Well, I know she misses you something bad, but I also know that working to try and figure out what happened to you is helping to keep her going right now.” I tried to be as positive as I could, given the situation.

He smiled. “Well, take care of her for me, and take care of yourself too. I know that you guys will figure out what happened and I’ll be able to leave this place.”

“Leave this place…” Clucky started chanting bits and pieces of what we were saying and we tried to pay him no mind, but it was hard. We both shook our heads and I turned to start back to the car.

“Not in the truck, in the trunk…” I stopped and turned, my eyes fastening on Clucky.

“What was that Clucky?” Both Buster and I were now paying close attention to the crazy hobo ghost.

“Leave this place….not in the truck, in the trunk….Hey Dim, over here, over here, get in! Someone’s coming!” He was making no sense whatsoever, but I couldn’t help but notice that my skin had broken out in goose bumps. Whatever nonsense he was spouting I was sure it was important to Buster’s disappearance. I walked over to where he was still dancing around and repeating himself.

“Clucky! What did you say? Does it have to do with Buster?” I reached out, if he was a person I would have been able to grab him by the shoulders, but, of course, my hands just went through him. I had no way of getting him to look at me.

“Damn. He isn’t answering me! Can you get him to stop?” I pled with Buster.

“Francis! Knock it off! Pay attention to the girl!”

“Please?” I asked. “Francis, er, Clucky, will you please help me?” I tried once more, in the nicest, sweetest voice I could muster.

“Sorry, it doesn’t look like he’s going to stop. And, no ghost on ghost contact, so I can’t even shake him. I will simply go right through him too. It sucks.” We both watched helplessly as Clucky picked up his duffle and started dancing back down the alley. Buster turned to me.

“I’ll try and work on him some more. He seems to be more lucid during the day when he comes around. Maybe I can repeat what he said tonight and see if I can’t get him to connect the dots.” He smiled at me. “But, I think that for a couple of amateur detectives we’ve discovered some pertinent facts. Will I see you again soon?” He looked like he was actually doing okay for being a trapped ghost and all.

“Ya, I’m not sure when I will be back, maybe tomorrow afternoon. I might try to come back in disguise and hang out to see who comes and goes around closing time. I have to work but I’ll just take my lovely disguise with me to work.” I gathered my skirts, which I could see now in the street light, were covered in nasty oil sludge and some other unidentifiable gunk, and headed back around the building toward the car and Callie. I turned the radio back on and let her know that I was on my way.

As I cleared the back edge of the property I felt eyes on me. I turned quickly, but only caught a glimpse of a shadow near the back side of the car lot. Probably just another bum, I thought, the area seemed to be quite habitable to the homeless.

I got back to the car and stripped down to my jeans and tee-shirt, which conveniently were under the layers of skirts and sweaters and hadn’t gotten too dirty in the course of the evening. I covered my tangled hair with a baseball cap and hopped into the car.

On the way back to Callie’s I filled her in on seeing Mr. Big and the mysterious Russian. She didn’t have any ideas either on who he could be and on how Buster would have been involved in anything they were up to.

I pulled into my driveway and drug myself into the house. Jeni had left me a baggie of brownies and a note. These were mine but I was to keep my paws off the rest in the pan. I knew I was tired when I didn’t even feel like eating one of her amazing brownies, which still felt a little warm. I crawled upstairs, took a shower to tame my mane and attempt to scour the foulness of the greasy car bay and dumpster off. Then I crawled into bed.