The First Church (20 page)

“For the country air?” Shane said, grinning.

“For my heart,” Brian said.  “Had a couple of heart attacks.  Pretty sure the next one will do me in.”

Shane looked at him.  “You’re serious.”

“Yup.”

“Damn,” Shane said.  “I’m sorry to hear about that.”

Brian shrugged.  “Not a whole lot I can do.  I take my medicine.  But not much more.  I mean I don’t eat the way I should, and there’s no way in hell I’m giving up my whiskey.”

“Yeah,” Shane said.  “Lack of whiskey would be a deal breaker for me, too.”

Brian’s phone rang, and he pulled it out of his pocket.

The number was one he didn’t recognize, but he answered it.

“Hello?” he asked.

“Brian,” a young voice said, “this is Jim Bogue.”

“Oh, hey Jim, what’s going on?” Brian asked, stopping.  Shane did as well.

“My grandpa asked if you would be able to come to our house at four, this afternoon.  Detective Brown is going to meet us as well,” Jim said.  “He doesn’t want anyone to listen in on our talk about the ghosts.”

“Fair enough,” Brian said.  “What’s your address?”

“Fourteen Elwood Street,” Jim said, “we’re right across from the Church at an angle.  It’s a Victorian.”

“Fourteen Elwood,” Brian repeated.  “Got it, kid.  We’ll see you then.”

“Okay.  Thanks.”

Brian ended the call and put the phone away.

“Meeting of the minds?” Shane asked.

“Yeah,” Brian said, starting towards downtown again.  “I’m assuming the detective found something out.  He wants to meet at four at Luke’s house.”

“Sounds good,” Shane said.  “Who knows who’ll be listening at the coffee shop.  Or anywhere else.”

“Yup.” Brian sighed, tapped the head of ash off his cigar into the street and asked, “So, how do you think we should handle this?”

“Get in touch with Charles first,” Shane said.  “We’ll need whatever containment system he has before we go into the house on Indian Rock Road.”

“I was thinking the same thing,” Brian said.  “If the police do have the Church sealed off, everything will be a little easier.  We won’t have to worry about anyone getting hurt there.”

“And by taking on the house and whoever has the damned skulls, we can make sure no others get transported to the damned place,” Shane added.

“Exactly,” Brian said, nodding his head.

“Alright,” Shane said, grinning around his cigarette, “let’s give old Charles a call and see what he has to say.”

Chapter 50: The Meeting

Lisa had gone home after the police had questioned them both.  Jim knew neither of them
were
suspects, but it was still uncomfortable to talk to the police.  And the officers had seemed on edge.

When Jim had asked his grandfather about it, he
had answered it was because of the condition of the body.  It was difficult to see a man butchered, even for the police.

At four in the afternoon, Brian and Shane had rung the bell for the main door, and Jim had hurried down to let them in.

Now, the four of them sat with his grandfather and waited for the arrival of Detective Brown.

Footsteps rang out on the stairs, and Jim saw his grandfather frown.

“It’s your mother, Jim,” he said.  “Let her in, please.”

Jim got up and opened the door.

His mother smiled, came in, and looked in surprise at Brian and Shane, both of whom stood up as she entered.

Jim introduced them all, and his mother nodded
hello
as the men returned to their seats.

“Wow, Dad,” she said, looking around again, a concerned expression on her face.  “What’s with all of the guests?”

“We’re discussing the situation at the Church,” Luke said.  “These gentlemen have been so kind as to come and assist us.”

Jim’s mother looked around angrily, as though she had just caught Jim and some of his friends smoking stolen cigarettes.

“What’s going on?” his grandfather asked, bringing her attention back to him.

“You remember the detective from the other day?” she asked.

“Detective Brown,” his grandfather answered, nodding.  “Has he arrived? I asked him to come over.”

“No,” Jim’s mother said, her face becoming pale.  “Dad, he’s dead.”

“What?” his grandfather asked.  Then he shook his head.  “How?”

“A drunk driver,” his mother answered.  “The guy’s truck jumped the curb, went over the sidewalk and slammed into the detective as he was leaving the Station.”

“Oh Jesus,” Brian said, sighing.

Shane nodded, and Jim went and sat down, shocked.

“I just wanted to let you know,” she said.  “I thought it was
strange since the officer died of a heart attack in the Church.”

“It is strange,” his grandfather murmured.  “Thank you for telling me, my dear.”

“Sure,” she said, and she closed the door as she left the room.

“Damn,” Brian said.  “Damn.”

Jim could only nod his agreement.

“Well,” his grandfather said, clearing his throat.  “I know the detective found out George Montgomery’s house at Indian Rock Road is now occupied, and by a man named Miles Cunningham.  Dan was going to check if the man had a record, but
obviously, we’ll never know, now.”

Shane rubbed the back of his head and said, “Alright.  Brian and I called a colleague of ours down in Nashua.  The man and his wife specialize in containing difficult ghosts. 
We had to leave a message, but basically, we shouldn’t make any sort of move until we know we can securely hold the skulls without the ghosts killing us for our trouble.”

"Okay," Brian said.  "We need to figure out how to get into the Church so we can deal with the situation in there."

“What about one of us, or even all of us, sneaking in?” Jim said tentatively.

“What do you mean, James?” his grandfather asked.

“Someone’s snuck in and put the skulls in the Church, right?” Jim asked. 

All three of the men nodded.

“So, we should be able to sneak in, too,” Jim continued.  “I mean, the guy’s pretty comfortable getting into the Church, what’s to stop him from trying to get in again, or us from doing the same?”

“I think Jim’s right,” Brian said, nodding.  “What is to stop him? He probably went in at night, and I don’t think the police are going to put an officer on the place.  They’ll probably
seal everything and return in the morning.”

“Which means the guy will have all night,” Shane said.  He sighed.  “Great.  So, how do we deal with this situation?”

“Stakeout?” Jim asked.

All of the men laughed, and Jim felt his face go red.

“No, no,” Brian said quickly, “we’re not laughing at you, Jim.  Not at all.  It’s a good idea.”

“Stakeout,” his grandfather said gently, “is a term we don’t often hear outside of a police drama.”

Jim nodded, grinned, and said, “Yeah.  I guess I did kind of sound like a TV cop, didn’t I?”

“You did, kid,” Shane said, chuckling.  “But you’re right.  We should watch the place.  I don’t know if the guy will come back anytime soon, but he sure does seem to like putting the skulls there.”

“Shall we set up a schedule, then?” his grandfather asked.

Brian and Shane looked at him, surprised.

Jim’s grandfather smiled.  “Just because I cannot see,
gentlemen,
doesn’t mean I can’t hear.  I’ll be able to sit and listen.  I do it very well.”

“I’m sure you do,” Brian said.  “Alright, we need a schedule.  Is it just between the three of us, or is Jim going to help?”

Jim felt a rush of pride.

“He’ll be able to help,” his grandfather said.  “I would prefer if we did the watching in pairs, however.  Jim and I could take the first four hours after sunset.  I doubt our ghost transporting friend will make an effort to sneak in while the sun is still up.”

“True,” Shane said.

Suddenly, Shane’s phone rang, and he took it out of his pocket.

“It’s Charles,” Shane said.  “Excuse me, please.”

He stepped out of the room as he answered the call.

They waited in silence for a few minutes, until Shane returned.

The man grinned at all of them as he said, “Charles has something.  He just has to wait until his wife gets home.  He said
it was
too big for him to move by himself.  He’ll give
us a call when they’re on their way.”

“Excellent,” his grandfather said.  “Jim, would you mind putting some water on for coffee, please?”

“Sure,” Jim said, and he left the room wondering who Charles was, and what he might be bringing to Rye.

Chapter 51: Brian has a Chat

Brian was exhausted, and he missed Jenny terribly.  He picked at the remnants of a less than satisfactory
cheeseburger and wondered how long Charles and Ellen would take.

“Brian.”

Brian nearly fell out of his chair at the sound of Leo’s voice.

The dead man stood by the hotel room’s door, and he looked at Brian with some concern.

“You know your heart is bad?” Leo asked.

“Yes,” Brian said, nodding.  “I’m aware of that, Leo.  Thank you.  Did you know scaring the hell out of me doesn’t help its condition?”

“Yes,” Leo said seriously.  “I am, however, far more concerned with the additional stress put
on
your heart by the level of beef you are eating.  I have observed your intake of whiskey as well.”

Brian frowned.  “Leo, have you been spying on me?”

Leo cleared his throat.  “No.  I have been watching you.  Spying implies I would be gathering information to use against you.”

Brian held up a hand,
and Leo stopped.  “Never mind, Leo.  Never mind.  Why have you stopped by?”

“Do you know Detective Daniel Brown died this afternoon?” Leo asked.

“Yes,” Brian said.  He picked up a soggy
french fry, tore it in two and popped one-half into his mouth.

“Did you know he was researching the man who now lives in the house on Indian Rock Road?” Leo asked.

Brian nodded.

“Good,” Leo said with a smile.  “Then he must have told you Miles Cunningham is a murderer who was recently released from prison.”

Brian almost spit the f
rench fry out in surprise.  “No, Leo.  No, he did not tell us.  He died before he could.”

“Oh,” Leo said.  He frowned, and then he smiled.  “Ah, I had forgotten.  I spoke with him shortly after he died.  He was upset he had
not
been able to inform you about the homicidal past of Miles Cunningham.”

“You know, Leo,” Brian said, sighing.  “There is a really,
really
big difference between those two things.”

“Yes,” Leo agreed.  “There is.”

Brian shook his head.  “Okay, so this guy Cunningham who lives in Montgomery’s house, he’s a murderer.  Who did he kill, and how did he do it?”

“He killed a Catholic Priest,” Leo said.  “And he strangled him to death.”

“Alright,” Brian said.  “Now, how old was Cunningham when he committed the murder?”

“Eighteen,” Leo answered.  “There is more, however.”

“Tell me ‘the more,’ Leo,” Brian said, eating another fry.

“Miles Cunningham accused the priest of sexual misconduct,” Leo said.

“Did they refuse to prosecute the priest?” Brian asked. 

“For what?” Leo asked.

“Sexual misconduct,” Brian said.

Leo shook his head.  “The priest was a genetic eunuch.  In addition to this, he had never spent any time alone with Miles Cunningham.”

“Oh,” Brian said.  “What else?”

“The parents of Miles Cunningham were Protestant missionaries in Japan.  He speaks the language fluently, and he is quite familiar with the customs,” Leo said.

“If his parents were Protestant missionaries,” Brian said, “then what was he doing in a Catholic Church?”

“Murdering the priest,” Leo answered.

Brian repressed a frustrated sigh.  “Okay, Leo, okay.  But why did he accuse the priest in the first place?”

“He saw the priest looking at him in a bookstore
.  He believed the priest sexually assaulted him with his mind,” Leo said.

“Jesus,” Brian murmured.

“You should be extremely careful, Brian,” Leo said.  “He was rather brutal in the way he killed the priest.”

“Strangulation is brutal any way you look at it, Leo,” Brian said.

Leo nodded.  “Yes, but Miles Cunningham strangled the priest to death with the man’s own intestines.”

“His intestines?” Brian asked, after a moment.