Ghost Mortem (Bordertown Chronicle Book 1) Read online

  She trailed off for a moment. I wasn't sure why. Like the words weren't easy. Had Vikki known someone who'd committed suicide…or something?

  I couldn't help but think of my mother, fed up, veering into the headlights of that oncoming mack truck.

  “Like a suicide,” I said. “Like if they take their own life?”

  “Yeah,” she said, nodding. “So, for a girl like this not to have any ectoplasmic residue on her at all, it’s, like, unheard of. It’s like the soul was sucked right out of her. Murder victims, victims of accidents, people who die alone in the wilderness—they always stay behind to haunt the body, or to warn others who might be able to see them.”

  “Oh,” I said. “So…where is she?”

  “Where indeed, boychik,” said the Doc. “See, even if she had taken her corridor, there would still be ectoplasmic radiation all over the body. When a spirit ascends to the netherworld, it yields a tremendous about of energy, and that energy manifests itself as ectoplasmic radiation, and that radiation would make this young shiksa’s body light up like a hanukiah. But as you can see,” and for emphasis, Doc held the device in front of me, as if I could even begin to imagine what to look for anyway, “I’ve got bupkis. Meh, except this schmutz on the screen. I should probably clean this.”

  Doc rubbed the screen with his sleeve.

  Another vehicle pulled up next to the police cruiser and Doc's steam punk flying car. I recognized it as my father’s black sedan. The driver’s side door opened, and out stepped my dad.

  “Raven, wait in the car,” my father said.

  I heard the car door slam, and then the crunching of crops underfoot as his footsteps came towards us. Then another car door opened and slammed.

  “Screw that, dad,” said my sister. “I’m not, like, just going to wait in the car by myself next to some sketchy corn field waiting for freaking Slenderman to show up.”

  My father muttered something incoherent under his breath, and shortly, both of them had joined us on the field.

  “Does somebody want to tell me what the hell is going on around here?” asked my father, looking ready to pounce on whoever might hazard to answer first.

  Then he saw the body.

  “What…the…fff…” he said, his eyes transfixed on the body.

  My father took a few moments to take it in. He just stopped and stood there, dumbfounded. All the ire left him, like a bail jumper getting out of dodge. Dad read the text carved into the body, subvocalizing with his lips.

  RACHE.

  “No,” he said. “No, no, no, this is all wrong.”

  “Oh my god,” Raven gasped, covering her mouth with her one hand.

  “Raven, go back to the car, now,” said my dad. “Gavin, you too. And…you two…who are you?”

  “Sorry, you must be Jack Masters. I’m Vikki Valliant. I'm your…well, I'm sorry about this. I'm supposed to be your new partner, but I think there was um…a little bit of a mix-up.”

  “Right,” he said, barely looking at her. His eyes were still transfixed on the corpse.

  Vikki extended a hand to shake his. He took her hand almost by instinct and shook it without saying anything. He just kept staring at the body of the dead young girl.

  “And this is Doctor Larry Braunstein, our C.S.I.,” Vikki added with a slight gesture.

  “If this is your community's idea of a joke, this isn't funny,” dad said.

  “What?” said Vikki.

  “This…this…this isn't…” he stammered, shaking his finger.

  “You recognize this M.O.?” asked Doc.

  My dad shook his head. “This…this isn't possible.”

  “Dad, it's him, isn't it?” I said.

  “Him who?” asked Doc.

  “Darius Danko,” I said.

  Darius Danko, for those unfamiliar with the name, better known by the moniker 'Nefarious Darius' was the serial killer who left his kills in scarecrow displays much like this. The serial killer my father drove himself half-insane trying to catch. He did catch him, though. Or so we had thought…

  “No,” my dad said.

  “What do you mean 'no'?” I demanded. “This is, like, exactly the way he used to leave his bodies.”

  My father looked at me aghast. “How the hell would you know that?”

  “You just…you left the files out all the time, dad! You had your own murder board set up in the home office. What, you didn't think the rest of us could see that?”

  “You weren't supposed to go in there,” he said.

  “Yeah, well, I agree with you now. I had nightmares for weeks after that. But dad…this…this is him, isn't it? And there's no getting that image out of my head. It's the eyes. Dad, what's with the eyes? And why is he inoculating them?”

  Dad gave me a confused look.

  “Enucleating,” corrected Doc.

  “Right,” I said. “That.”

  “Is that true?” said Vikki. “Jack, do you think this is the work of Darius Danko?”

  My dad looked at Vikki, looking almost disoriented.

  “No,” he said. “It can't be.”

  “Why not?” I said.

  “Because…It just can't!”

  “But dad—”

  “It can't! Something has to be different.”

  “You think it's a copycat then?” asked Vikki.

  “It has to be.”

  “But Dad, I mean…wasn't Darius Danko like…never prosecuted? I mean…I remember how upset you were after he was acquitted. What makes you think he hasn't started up again?”

  “Gavin, you didn't work this case. You don't know what you're talking about.”

  “Okay then,” I said. “So if it wasn't Darius Danko, what's different this time?”

  “Okay,” my dad started. “It's going to be in the details. Darius Danko used to bind his victims' hands with police issue zip ties,” my father continued. “Her hands were bound behind her, and then she was hung upside down by her feet. And you could tell by the lividity, she was probably still hanging upside down like that from anywhere between three to twelve hours after she’d died.”

  “Sounds about right,” muttered the Doc. “He’s a real maven, this one.”

  “I’m sorry, who is this?” said my father.

  “Sorry,” said Vikki. “This is Doctor Larry Braunstein, our um…” she trailed off for a moment, as if she was trying either to remember the exact words, or wasn’t sure exactly. “Crime scene investigation and paranormal activity consultant?”

  She looked to him for confirmation.

  Doc nodded. “Among other things. I’m a man of many talents.”

  My father nodded, eyeing him suspiciously.

  “You're right so far, you know,” said Doc. “From the sound of things, the wounds on our victim's body are the same. And the way the blood runs streaks up her body instead of down. This sick little pisher obviously hung this poor woman upside down for days like this. Maybe weeks, and slowly cut away pieces of her a little bit at a time.”

  “See?” I said. “It's him. It has to be.”

  Dad looked at me wearily and then noticed that Raven was standing beside him now, one hand—her only hand—over her mouth, and looking like she was going to either cry or be sick.

  “Raven, I thought I told you to stay in the car,” he snapped, and then to me, “Gavin, take Raven back to the car.”

  “But dad—”

  “Gavin, go home! Here. Take the keys and take your sister home.”

  “I don't even know where we live!”

  It was around this time that another few cars pulled up—two more B.T.P.D. police cruisers, and a pick-up truck. I passively assessed them as I waited for dad to come get us. The man who got out of the pick-up looked like a farmer. I remembered that these lands had belonged to a farmer, and suddenly noticed that whoever had called in this scarecrow corpse in the first place wasn't actually here. I hadn't thought it weird until now though. I was probably too distracted by the grim sight of that poor Métis gi
rl, if that is indeed what she was.

  The farmer was maybe in his fifties or sixties, with a full head of bristly white hair, and he had one of those bushy beards but no mustache.

  This oddly contrasted with the man who stepped out of the police cruiser beside him. That man had a mustache but no beard. And he was enormous. The cop wasn't just tall, but also big. Stout. Portly, with a belly that spilled outwards, burying his belt. He looked like he could have been pregnant with a man-sized baby…or a tanuki for that matter…whatever the heck that is.

  “Deputy Masters, you made it,” said the enormous cop, with a broad smile across his portly face. I realized, to my slight amusement, the portly man must be the sheriff. Sheriff Porter.

  “Sheriff Perry Porter,” he said. “I've been looking forward to this moment for a long time, you know. You're somewhat of a legend among my people.”

  “Um, thanks,” my dad said, shaking his hand, as if hypnotized.

  “I see you've already met Vikki Valliant and Larry Braunstein,” continued the sheriff. “Oh, and I see you brought your kids with you to the crime scene. Interesting choice.”

  “They're just leaving,” dad said, turning to me. “Go wait in the car. I'll be with you in a minute.”

  I sheepishly did as I was told, noting a strange smile on Sheriff Porter's face as he eyed the two of us going by. Strange because…how could anyone smile at a crime scene? He nodded to me, noting my gaze and I nodded back. It was a weird look—like he recognized us or something. But then again, he well might have…from this famous “file” I keep hearing about. And if I didn't know better, I'd swear he was checking my sister out while her back was turned.

  Nah, couldn't be.

  I wondered for a moment if the sheriff also knew that I knew about ghosts. Or if that was just a case of mistaken identity with Vikki. And why would she mistake me for my father, anyway? We don't look that much alike, do we? I mean…he's bald. Like totally head-shaved bald. Has been for nearly a decade, ever since it started to go thin on top. But then again, maybe they used an old photo. That certainly seemed possible. But who knows?

  I accompanied Raven back to the car, and sat her down on the hood. I explained the confusion and what happened.

  Raven gave me a knowing smile. “Sure. Honest mistake. You'd never go off with some hot girl with an ulterior motive.”

  “Shush, you,” I said.

  We sat in silence for a while, and I thought about the horror we'd just seen. I looked at Raven. I knew she wouldn't admit it, but she looked spooked.

  “Raven, are you okay?”

  “I'm fine,” she said.

  Right, I thought to myself. Girl code for 'not fine, but stop talking.'

  So we just sat in silence, idly taking in some of the outside conversation.

  “Somebody want to fill me in?” asked the sheriff, his booming voice permeating to where Raven and I sat.

  “Looks like we've got us a copycat of the Nefarious Darius murders,” said my dad.

  “What makes you think it's a copycat of the uh…?”

  “The Nefarious Darius murders? Because…well…it couldn't be Darius Danko.”

  “Why not? Didn't he go into hiding, like, a decade ago?” I heard Vikki ask.

  “Yeah,” said my father. “At least, I thought so…sorry, hold on. I need to talk to my kids. I’m sorry. I wasn’t expecting to start work this soon. Or this tired. I don’t mean to take it out on either of you.”

  “It’s all right, deputy,” said the sheriff. “We weren't expecting you to be on duty either. You must be tired. Why don't you go on home with your kids? Vikki and I can take it from here…”

  “Not without me you can’t. You need me. I know this case. I don't know why…I don't know why someone is imitating Nefarious Darius, and now, all of a sudden, but…just give me a minute.”

  My father came back over to me and Raven at the car. He handed me the keys, and gave me the address to our new home.

  “Take your sister home, and both you, get some rest, all right?”

  “Okay, dad,” I said.

  With that, my father returned to the crime scene.

  Raven and I got into the car, and then I drove us to our new home.

  Chapter 8

  Our new home didn't have any of our usual creature comforts, including our beds. Needless to say, neither my sister nor I slept very well that night. Neither did my father, for that matter. It wasn’t just the lack of furnishings, either. The sight of that girl’s body haunted us.

  We slept on the floor, in sleeping bags we’d brought in the car with us. Dad insisted we come see the house first before we figured out how much furniture we’d bring, and how much of it would simply go. It turned out to be a waste of time though; our new house in Bordertown appeared to be almost twice the size of our bungalow back in Regina, if you totaled all of the floors in this home. I was beginning to wonder if the real issue would be how we were ever going to fill the place.

  Eventually, my dad came in, unintentionally waking both of us up, at about four in the morning. Well, I say 'waking us up' loosely; I don’t think either Raven or I had actually gotten a wink of sleep. Raven kept shifting around noisily, and periodically audibly scratching at her stump. And I was honestly just too wired to sleep. It was an odd combination of being haunted by what I’d seen in that field, and my thoughts drifting to the beguiling Vikki Valliant, and what I might do with her if I had her alone. And if the mood was right. Or even what I might be inclined to do by myself, if I had my own private room and wasn’t lying in a sleeping bag five feet from my little sister.

  Every now and again, Raven asked if I was still awake.

  “Hey Gavin?”

  “Yeah?”

  “What do you think life's going to be like here in Bordertown?”

  “Strange,” I said to her, unable to elaborate about the strange ghosts I’d seen at the Heaven-Eleven, and the even stranger conversation out at the corn fields before she and dad showed up. “Life here is going to be strange.”

  Chapter 9

  The following morning, my father, my sister, and I sat groggily around the breakfast table, which, for now, was a square, fold-out card-table we’d packed into our trunk, along with three uncomfortable folding chairs I kind of wished we’d just thrown out. We ate cereal with milk my dad had procured at the Heaven-Eleven. We sat there eating as though we were the living dead. Our fatigue was setting in with a vengeance, and showing on our faces, especially under our eyes. At least, my father’s and sister’s eyes. I didn’t want to look at myself in the mirror yet. I needed a shower.

  A hot shower. Yeah. That'll freshen me up.

  “We do have hot water here, right?” I asked

  “Of course,” said my dad. “What sort of provider do you think I am?”

  I peered around at our scant, unfurnished home, devoid of any furniture, and then back at the sad card table upon which we sat. I looked back and dad, opening my mouth to speak.

  “Don't answer that,” said my dad, cutting me off, evidently wary of my sardonic intentions.

  Raven chuckled, but straightened her face when she got a glare from dad.

  I went up the stairs to locate the shower. Just before I closed the door, I heard him calling after me.

  “Seriously, don’t use up all the hot water though. Those of us with actual, you know, jobs, i.e. not you, have to get ready soon.”

  I took my bag of toiletries to the bathroom, set it up on the counter, and took a shower. The 'shower' turned out to be one of those Victorian era bathtubs, with the converted shower adaptor up top with a ring around it. Of course, I realized we had no shower curtains, so I gave up on the conventional shower, and opted instead to take a bath.

  As I soaked in the tub, I thought about the dead girl from the corn field, made to look like some kind of fearsome, many-eyed, yet decidedly eye-less scarecrow. I thought about Vikki, and how much I wanted to chat with her more. Any excuse would do, really. I found myself wondering how
I might interpose myself back into the investigation. Maybe I could convince my dad to let me come on some kind of ride-along.

  Yeah. A police ride-along. That's the ticket.

  It wasn’t just that I had a “boy-crush” on Vikki, as those teen ghosts had put it, which I was pretty sure was a malapropism anyway. Okay, so maybe that was a small part of it. Okay, maybe a large part of it. But believe whatever you like. I really did want to help.

  By the time I’d finished my bath and was toweling off, I’d written a complete mental manifesto on what I was going to say to my father, and then what I might later say to Vikki Valliant, when we would be riding around town, trying to solve this case together.

  Just three cool people kicking ass and taking names. And wearing shades, and not looking back at explosions. This is going to be awesome!

  Raven took the next shower, or in this case, bath, while I took the alone time with my dad to confront him about…you know…the whole seeing-dead-people-thing that he neglected to mention to me for five god-damned years!

  I sat down across from him at the card table.

  “I know about the ghosts, dad,” I blurted.

  He stared back at me blankly. Then suspiciously.

  “Which ghosts? What the hell are you talking about?”

  “Oh, stop it, dad. You know exactly what I’m talking about. The ones you've been seeing for five god damn years. The ones that got you fired from the R.C.M.P. for shouting at them all the time. That's what really happened, isn't it?”

  I know it's certainly happened to me before. Shouting at stupid, persistent ghosts, I mean.

  “Gavin,” he started. “Look, I know I talked about this before. But we’ve been over this. You know…all that talk before? When the R.C.M.P. put me on snap leave. That was just stress. I just needed a break, all right? I don't…” he burst into laughter. “I don't seriously believe in all that stuff, you know. Don't worry about it. It was just a big misunderstanding, that’s all. Just a figure of speech.”

  “Just a figure of…Dad! Last night, I saw the ghosts of a bunch of dead kids harass me outside the Heaven-Eleven. They started sexually harassing Vikki right in front of me! And dad, she could see them too! We were both having a laugh about it, and then she told me she’d read my file. But then I got to thinking what file? I don't have a file. That I know of. Then I realized she meant your file. As in, you put—in exhaustive detail—exactly what you knew about the spirit world, in some of your police reports, so they knew you were for real.”