Laugh Now Die Later
January 2
“All I’m saying is, I ain’t got time to wait for your ‘office hours’ or whatever you call ‘em, so you need to help me now.”
Dan bit back a groan and briefly closed his eyes. Why did the dead so frequently think they were pressed for time, he wondered in exasperation. They were dead. All that eternity in front of them… He opened his eyes again with a pensive frown. The last thing he needed was for the magenta-haired, tattooed seemingly from neck-to-toe goth spirit in front of him to follow him any further. His uncle was well aware of Dan’s role as part of The Three, but his sympathy and understanding did not extend to frightening the horses in his care. No ghosts in the stables. Period. “What do you want?” he asked shortly.
“You gotta get me a ticket to the Howlers’ concert. And it’s gonna sell out if you don’t act fast.”
“Lady. Seriously. You’re dead.”
“Yeah. So? Do you know how hard it is to see them? They almost never tour. I’m not missing this. Not for anything. No way.”
“You. Are. Dead,” Dan said slowly and pointedly. “You don’t need a ticket. No one can see you and no one is going to stop you. You can get up on the freakin’ stage with them if you want.”
“Oh, yeah, man. Right! Cool!”
Dan shook his head slightly as the ghost disappeared. Whether she’d moved on or was simply on her way to haunting her favorite band, he had no clue. And he really didn’t care one way or the other. She was no longer his problem and as far as he was concerned, that was that.
He wondered how Trixie was doing. She and her family were on the road heading back home, their vacation and visit with Andrew Belden over. They would stop overnight, probably somewhere in Ohio, and hopefully be back in Sleepyside by late afternoon the following day. He just had to make it until then. With a wry chuckle, he shoved his gloved hands deeper into his coat pockets and crossed the gravel drive. Here he was, all big and bad, some powerful warlock from a long line of powerful warlocks, and he could barely keep it together because his girlfriend was out-of-town.
His uncle was in his small, tidy office, filing his latest paid invoice for feed. The radio he kept on a shelf was on, tuned to the local station. Unsurprisingly, the newscast was discussing the murder of famed author R. J. Penick.
“Met him,” Dan said conversationally, with a slight nod in the radio’s direction.
“Huh? Met who?” Regan glanced up distractedly as he shut the file drawer.
“The author. The guy they’re talking about.”
“Yeah? You go to one of his book signings or something?”
“Nah. Nothing like that. Met him last night.”
Regan had stilled and was now listening more closely to the broadcast. “You met him last night,” he said finally, “so he was…”
“Sporting a nice gunshot to the chest look? Yep.” Dan lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “When I mentioned there was a little trouble at the Crescent, he was the trouble. I think I might’ve sorta maybe… turned him into a poltergeist.”
Regan raised his eyes upward, as if looking for support from a higher power.
“Wasn’t my fault!” Dan declared defensively. “He was trying to steal the professor’s box. He got uber mad when I stopped him.”
“You mean the box you found outside the shop?”
“Yeah. He said it was his. There was this little statue inside, but no note or anything. And it’s weird. Really weird. It’s like a werewolf, kinda, only it’s standing on two legs and has giant bat wings.” Dan held both hands out, palms up. “You would think his primary concern was the whole getting violently offed by person or persons unknown, but he was zeroed in on collecting the box.”
“What did the professor have to say about it?”
“Not a lot. He didn’t recognize the statue, but he didn’t exactly have a lotta time to worry about it last night. I was thinking I’d go see him this afternoon if you don’t need anything?”
“No. Go ahead. Honey and Jim already offered to help with the horses today and probably it would be easier if you weren’t here.”
“Yeah. I know. Better I’m not around then,” Dan muttered with a grimace.
Regan exhaled heavily. “I still think you should just go ahead and let Jim in on the secret. It would save from a lot of awkwardness.”
“Not a chance. He’ll never believe us. We already went through Di thinking we were hitting the hard stuff. Don’t want to go through that again, especially because this is Jim we’re talking about and he’d feel dutybound to tell his folks.”
“You can’t dodge him forever,” Regan pointed out reasonably. “At some point, you’ll have to come clean and hope for the best.”
Dan suddenly grinned. “Not necessarily. If he follows his dream of going to Africa to start a school there, we may not ever have to tell him a thing.”
David Lee lived in a small bungalow he’d purchased shortly after inheriting the Crescent Moon magic shop. He never seemed to find the time to fully unpack and though it had been a few months since he’d officially moved in, there were still cardboard boxes stacked in the dining room and framed pictures leaning against the living room wall, waiting to be hung. He greeted Dan at the door with a coffee mug in one hand and a book tucked under his arm. “Dan! Come in,” he said, stepping back. “I was just reading through some old research on the origins of popular fairy tales. I’m afraid I have yet to find any references to werebats. Wolfpires? Hmmm…”
Dan followed the professor to the kitchen at the back of the house. There, the sculpture stood on his table, a desk lamp aimed directly at it as if showcased by a spotlight in a stage production. Or possibly under the revealing light of a police interrogation. “Did I mention that is one bizarre statue you got there?” he asked, bemused once again by the strange figurine.
“Yes, it is quite unusual,” David agreed. “I’m equally curious as to why our newly murdered celebrity author was so interested in it.”
Dan pulled out a chair and plopped down. “Yeah, that, too. Man, yesterday was a totally crazy start to the new year.”
David eyed his young friend with concern. “Yes. It was. Have you had any more visits from your, uh, leprechaun?”
“No. I’ve only had one ghostly encounter since last night, and that was with a groupie I think maybe fried her brain one too many times before shuffling off this mortal coil.”
“It’s unfortunate you can’t remember the names he mentioned. It would help us with any research.”
“Sorry about that. It was the non-English languageness of it all that did me in.”
David nodded. “I’ll devote some time to looking into Irish and Celtic witch legends and see what I can find.”
“I appreciate that,” Dan told him sincerely. “What about the Crescent?”
“Ah, yes. The police decided it was merely vandalism as I reported nothing stolen. They even seemed to hint at the possibility of a hate crime, but I dissuaded them of that notion. There’s no need to stir up trouble in the living world when we know ourselves what the real cause was. I was able to find a handyman service that specializes in emergency repairs and they sent two men this morning to install some heavy wood panels that should hold until I can have the windows replaced.” David moved toward the stove. “Would you like some coffee? It’s freshly made.”
“Thanks, no. I could use a glass of water, though, please.”
“Certainly.”
As David took a glass from his cupboard and filled it with ice, Dan leaned forward and picked up the werebat-wolfpire statuette. With a startled shout, he let it go, dropping it back on the table.
“Dan?” David whirled around, barely keeping hold of the water glass.
“It’s eyes!” Dan exclaimed. “They – they glowed.”
David’s brows shot up and he stepped quickly to the table, setting the glass down and snatching up the sculpture. He turned it over and studied the bottom intently. “They lit up? I don’t see an on button or switch. Or anywhere for batteries to be installed.” He rotated the figure, looking at it from every angle.
“I wouldn’t call it ‘lit up,” Dan told him. “They glowed. Red. Sorta flamed, you know?”
“Fascinating,” David murmured. “Did you by chance feel anything when you touched it? Any sort of energy surge?”
“I – I don’t think so.”
David carefully placed the sculpture back on his table. “Well, perhaps for safety concerns, you should refrain from handling it until we can learn more about it.”
“Maybe we shouldn’t even leave it here? I mean, if it’s… possessed or something? Maybe it’s not safe for you to have in your house?”
“A valid concern,” David conceded. “And if perhaps our possible poltergeist is still seeking it, I shouldn’t necessarily want him to find his way here. The question becomes, of course, where could we safely leave it? Not at the Crescent. Our spook would likely look there again.”
Dan was quiet as he considered various possibilities. “I wonder if Davie would help us,” he said after a long pause.
“Would he? Or rather, could he? What are you thinking?”
“Maybe he could keep it at his club? It’s probably not too dangerous for a bunch of dead people hanging out in an abandoned warehouse, right?”
“Hmmm. That could possibly work. Unless someone stumbled across it? A living someone, I mean. A vagrant or vandal or some young person out looking for mischief? We must remain vigilant when it comes to the possibility of placing innocent souls in harm’s way through any endeavors on our part, no matter how well-intentioned or precautionary then may be.”
“I think if Davie is willing to take it, we can find an adequate hiding place for now. And then he can keep an eye on it for us.” Dan sipped his water and looked over at the professor with his lips quirked in a half-smile. “Also? Trix is right. We should start calling you ‘Charlie,’ Professor Dickens, sir.”
David laughed good-naturedly. “It is what it is,” he said. “My companions as a child were books and that seems to have formed my vocabulary and speech patterns for better or worse.”
“Yeah. And you’re rockin’ it.” At David’s skeptical look, Dan nodded. “No, really. It suits you. I can’t actually picture you talking any other way. I mean, you quit teaching at the college but you’re always gonna be ‘the professor’ as far as I’m concerned.”
“Well, thank you, I suppose?” David chuckled softly as he turned his attention back to the sculpture. “We should find something for storing our friend here that will be sturdier than the shipping box he arrived in, I think. I found an old toolbox in the shed when I moved in. That might suffice.”
It was a quick trip to the seedier side of Sleepyside and Dan had no difficulties finding parking outside the derelict warehouse that served as what Mart had dubbed “Club Dead.”
“This is interesting,” David said, peering up through the windshield. “It almost looks like a movie set, specifically designed for the scene of a haunting or two. Are there any spirits about at the moment?”
“Not yet. It’s a bit early in the day,” Dan told him. “Usually, things don’t really start hopping until after sundown. But hopefully Davie is around. C’mon. We can go in through the side door. It’s never locked.”
“No, I suppose there wouldn’t be much point to that.” David climbed from the car and retrieved the metal box he’d left on the backseat.
Dan shivered as an icy blast of cold air hit them the moment they stepped inside the gloomy building. David clutched his box closer and shot Dan a curious look. “I felt that. Ghost?”
“Nope. Just weather,” Dan explained with a nod toward the many gaping holes in the warehouse roof. “Actually, I think the idea of ‘cold spots’ indicating a ghostly presence might be false. At least, I’ve been around plenty of them without noticing a drop in temperature.”
Hazy rays from a weak winter sun filtered down from above, leaving a contrast of light and shadow in the enormous space. A scattering of mismatched tables and chairs stood in a rough circle and cement blocks with a cracked wooden board served as the “stage” spirits used each night for their performances. David looked around with keen eyes, taking it in. “Fascinating. Absolutely fascinating. And that’s the bar over there?” He lifted his hand to point toward the back of the room.
“Yep. Davie’s usually back there. He doesn’t actually serve drinks, of course, but he does dispense advice to any wayward spirit like a good bartender would.”
“And the ghosts perform here.”
“Uh, huh. Singing, stand-up, banjo playing. A few weeks ago, Davie invited us to see a magician.”
“Really! Ghosts do magic, then?”
“Nah. I mean not real magic. Just tricks. And to be honest, not very good ones.”
“It’s a good thing Hugo isn’t around to hear you say that, kid. He’d be crushed.”
Dan turned quickly. “Davie! Great. You’re here.”
“Dead and in non-living person,” Davie said with a small bow. “What brings you here with your pet teacher?”
Dan glanced at the professor before answering. “We need your help. Well, a favor actually.”
David was standing still, watching his friend hold a conversation he could only hear from Dan’s side. He tried to visualize the ghost he knew was there. A little person dressed, as Trixie had once told him, in a full pirate costume, complete with Jolly Roger hat and shining saber.
“What kind of favor?” Davie asked, scowling. “You know I don’t much like dealing with the not dead.”
“Hello? Uh, hello?”
Davie and Dan both turned toward the new voice.
“Hello? I’m looking for the owner?”
“You found me,” Davie muttered. “And about time. You were supposed to be here hours ago.”
An extremely slender man stepped further into the light, looking about apprehensively. “I – Sorry. I got lost. Are… you have live people here? Is that safe?”
“Relax, Mack. This is Daniel. He’s one of The Three. And the other one can’t see or hear you anyway.”
“Oh! When you said I had to audition, I didn’t realize it was before a live audience.”
“That wasn’t the plan, but now that they’re here, they can be the judges.”
Dan blinked. “Audition? Judges?”
“Mack here thinks he’s a real talent.” Davie gestured vaguely toward the stage. “Let’s see what ya got. Dan can decide if you should get a shot tonight.”
“Me? I’m not really sure that’s the best idea…”
“You want a favor from me? You gotta do a favor in return.”
Dan huffed out a breath, noting that it hung before him in the frigid air. He was cold and tired and not in the mood for whatever was coming next, but he forced a smile to his face and nodded once. “Right. So, uh, do you want me to repeat and describe everything for the professor, or is it okay if I’m the only judge?”
“Let’s see how it goes,” Davie replied. “Let him be the tie-breaker if we need one.”
Dan studied Mack as he took the stage. He wasn’t particularly tall, but his slenderness somehow gave him the illusion of greater height than he truly possessed. He was dressed in jeans and a plain gray t-shirt. Along with his close-cropped, thinning hair, his outfit and appearance gave no solid clue of when he had lived or when he had met his demise. Dan could only narrow his guess down to likely not any earlier than 1980. As the ghost produced a set of black cat ears he settled on his head, Dan shot Davie an uncertain look, wondering what to expect. Davie simply shrugged.
Unable to see or hear the performance itself, David was forced to rely on watching the shifting expressions on his young friend’s face. What started as carefully neutral soon became noticeably perplexed before dissolving into absolute disbelief. Eventually, Dan was left staring at the stage, wide-eyed and slack-jawed. After several minutes passed, he broke into enthusiastic applause. “No, man, seriously,” he said in apparent earnestness. “I have never seen anything like that before. Amazing, dude. Truly. But you know what I think? You aren’t thinking big enough! Your audience here will be what? Maybe a dozen spooks and spirits, if you’re lucky? Why limit yourself like that? Out there? Man, you could have millions, even billions of fans. Go for it!”
There was a brief pause and then Dan’s shoulders slumped as he sighed in relief.
“Dan?”
Dan briefly rubbed his forehead before giving a small nod. “Yeah, he’s gone. But hang on,” he said. “Let’s take care of our business. Davie, now you really owe me that favor.”
They decided to leave the box inside another box and underneath an old tarp behind Davie’s makeshift bar.
“I don’t want whatever that is to stay here for long, kid,” Davie grumbled.
“Mart and Trixie will be home tomorrow,” Dan told him, “and hopefully between us and the professor, we can get some idea of what it is and whether it’s something to be concerned about or not. But, uh, I should warn you. There’s a dead guy after it.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. And he was murdered. So, he’s not in the best of moods.”
“Eh. We get that type here all the time. He can take a number.”
It wasn’t until they were back in the van and driving toward the center of town that Dan blew out a short breath and laughed ruefully. “I’m sure you’re dying to know… yeesh. Excuse the phrase.”
“Ah, yes, that particular colloquialism has an entirely new meaning for us now, doesn’t it,” David said with a light chuckle of his own. “But, yes, I would like to hear about it…?”
“Right, so, this guy, he was thin. I mean really thin. Like maybe even addict thin. And he put on cat ears.”
“Cat ears?”
“Yeah, you know, like those headbands preteen girls like to wear?”
“Ah, yes.”
“And then… and then, he performed a medley of Cats tunes. From the Broadway show.”
“Oh. Well, that doesn’t sound too awful. Was it? Was he a poor singer?”
“Uh… no? I mean, I guess he was in tune. But, the thing is, he performed as a cat.”
“Yes, well, cats do make up the characters of the production, after all.”
“Right. I know. You’re misunderstanding what I’m saying, though. He performed as a cat. The dude meowed the entire time.” Dan glanced over at the professor. “And he meant it. It wasn’t like some sort of wacky comedy act.”
“Oh, my. Yet your reaction at the end seemed quite positive?”
“Oh, yeah. Absolutely. Contributing to the creation of one poltergeist in the last twenty-four hours or so is enough for me. I wasn’t about to do anything that might lead to another. Thankfully, he jumped on the idea of a far greater audience and moved on.”
“Hmm. Well, that should be considered a success, then,” David remarked thoughtfully.
Dan braked for a red light, noting the empty intersection and wondering what other people were doing at that moment. Other normal people with normal lives who didn’t spend their days contending with crazy ghosts and angry witches and untold evil out to get them.
“He really meowed,” David murmured, a slow grin turning up the corners of his mouth.
“Yep. He really did. The whole time. Meow. Meow. Meow.”
The light turned green, but Dan did not immediately step on the gas. Gripping the wheel tightly, he stared straight ahead. “The whole time,” he said again. “The whole stinkin’ time.”
Moments later, as it finally rolled forward, the van was filled with the sound of both Dan and David roaring with laughter.
“All I’m saying is, I ain’t got time to wait for your ‘office hours’ or whatever you call ‘em, so you need to help me now.”
Dan bit back a groan and briefly closed his eyes. Why did the dead so frequently think they were pressed for time, he wondered in exasperation. They were dead. All that eternity in front of them… He opened his eyes again with a pensive frown. The last thing he needed was for the magenta-haired, tattooed seemingly from neck-to-toe goth spirit in front of him to follow him any further. His uncle was well aware of Dan’s role as part of The Three, but his sympathy and understanding did not extend to frightening the horses in his care. No ghosts in the stables. Period. “What do you want?” he asked shortly.
“You gotta get me a ticket to the Howlers’ concert. And it’s gonna sell out if you don’t act fast.”
“Lady. Seriously. You’re dead.”
“Yeah. So? Do you know how hard it is to see them? They almost never tour. I’m not missing this. Not for anything. No way.”
“You. Are. Dead,” Dan said slowly and pointedly. “You don’t need a ticket. No one can see you and no one is going to stop you. You can get up on the freakin’ stage with them if you want.”
“Oh, yeah, man. Right! Cool!”
Dan shook his head slightly as the ghost disappeared. Whether she’d moved on or was simply on her way to haunting her favorite band, he had no clue. And he really didn’t care one way or the other. She was no longer his problem and as far as he was concerned, that was that.
He wondered how Trixie was doing. She and her family were on the road heading back home, their vacation and visit with Andrew Belden over. They would stop overnight, probably somewhere in Ohio, and hopefully be back in Sleepyside by late afternoon the following day. He just had to make it until then. With a wry chuckle, he shoved his gloved hands deeper into his coat pockets and crossed the gravel drive. Here he was, all big and bad, some powerful warlock from a long line of powerful warlocks, and he could barely keep it together because his girlfriend was out-of-town.
His uncle was in his small, tidy office, filing his latest paid invoice for feed. The radio he kept on a shelf was on, tuned to the local station. Unsurprisingly, the newscast was discussing the murder of famed author R. J. Penick.
“Met him,” Dan said conversationally, with a slight nod in the radio’s direction.
“Huh? Met who?” Regan glanced up distractedly as he shut the file drawer.
“The author. The guy they’re talking about.”
“Yeah? You go to one of his book signings or something?”
“Nah. Nothing like that. Met him last night.”
Regan had stilled and was now listening more closely to the broadcast. “You met him last night,” he said finally, “so he was…”
“Sporting a nice gunshot to the chest look? Yep.” Dan lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “When I mentioned there was a little trouble at the Crescent, he was the trouble. I think I might’ve sorta maybe… turned him into a poltergeist.”
Regan raised his eyes upward, as if looking for support from a higher power.
“Wasn’t my fault!” Dan declared defensively. “He was trying to steal the professor’s box. He got uber mad when I stopped him.”
“You mean the box you found outside the shop?”
“Yeah. He said it was his. There was this little statue inside, but no note or anything. And it’s weird. Really weird. It’s like a werewolf, kinda, only it’s standing on two legs and has giant bat wings.” Dan held both hands out, palms up. “You would think his primary concern was the whole getting violently offed by person or persons unknown, but he was zeroed in on collecting the box.”
“What did the professor have to say about it?”
“Not a lot. He didn’t recognize the statue, but he didn’t exactly have a lotta time to worry about it last night. I was thinking I’d go see him this afternoon if you don’t need anything?”
“No. Go ahead. Honey and Jim already offered to help with the horses today and probably it would be easier if you weren’t here.”
“Yeah. I know. Better I’m not around then,” Dan muttered with a grimace.
Regan exhaled heavily. “I still think you should just go ahead and let Jim in on the secret. It would save from a lot of awkwardness.”
“Not a chance. He’ll never believe us. We already went through Di thinking we were hitting the hard stuff. Don’t want to go through that again, especially because this is Jim we’re talking about and he’d feel dutybound to tell his folks.”
“You can’t dodge him forever,” Regan pointed out reasonably. “At some point, you’ll have to come clean and hope for the best.”
Dan suddenly grinned. “Not necessarily. If he follows his dream of going to Africa to start a school there, we may not ever have to tell him a thing.”
David Lee lived in a small bungalow he’d purchased shortly after inheriting the Crescent Moon magic shop. He never seemed to find the time to fully unpack and though it had been a few months since he’d officially moved in, there were still cardboard boxes stacked in the dining room and framed pictures leaning against the living room wall, waiting to be hung. He greeted Dan at the door with a coffee mug in one hand and a book tucked under his arm. “Dan! Come in,” he said, stepping back. “I was just reading through some old research on the origins of popular fairy tales. I’m afraid I have yet to find any references to werebats. Wolfpires? Hmmm…”
Dan followed the professor to the kitchen at the back of the house. There, the sculpture stood on his table, a desk lamp aimed directly at it as if showcased by a spotlight in a stage production. Or possibly under the revealing light of a police interrogation. “Did I mention that is one bizarre statue you got there?” he asked, bemused once again by the strange figurine.
“Yes, it is quite unusual,” David agreed. “I’m equally curious as to why our newly murdered celebrity author was so interested in it.”
Dan pulled out a chair and plopped down. “Yeah, that, too. Man, yesterday was a totally crazy start to the new year.”
David eyed his young friend with concern. “Yes. It was. Have you had any more visits from your, uh, leprechaun?”
“No. I’ve only had one ghostly encounter since last night, and that was with a groupie I think maybe fried her brain one too many times before shuffling off this mortal coil.”
“It’s unfortunate you can’t remember the names he mentioned. It would help us with any research.”
“Sorry about that. It was the non-English languageness of it all that did me in.”
David nodded. “I’ll devote some time to looking into Irish and Celtic witch legends and see what I can find.”
“I appreciate that,” Dan told him sincerely. “What about the Crescent?”
“Ah, yes. The police decided it was merely vandalism as I reported nothing stolen. They even seemed to hint at the possibility of a hate crime, but I dissuaded them of that notion. There’s no need to stir up trouble in the living world when we know ourselves what the real cause was. I was able to find a handyman service that specializes in emergency repairs and they sent two men this morning to install some heavy wood panels that should hold until I can have the windows replaced.” David moved toward the stove. “Would you like some coffee? It’s freshly made.”
“Thanks, no. I could use a glass of water, though, please.”
“Certainly.”
As David took a glass from his cupboard and filled it with ice, Dan leaned forward and picked up the werebat-wolfpire statuette. With a startled shout, he let it go, dropping it back on the table.
“Dan?” David whirled around, barely keeping hold of the water glass.
“It’s eyes!” Dan exclaimed. “They – they glowed.”
David’s brows shot up and he stepped quickly to the table, setting the glass down and snatching up the sculpture. He turned it over and studied the bottom intently. “They lit up? I don’t see an on button or switch. Or anywhere for batteries to be installed.” He rotated the figure, looking at it from every angle.
“I wouldn’t call it ‘lit up,” Dan told him. “They glowed. Red. Sorta flamed, you know?”
“Fascinating,” David murmured. “Did you by chance feel anything when you touched it? Any sort of energy surge?”
“I – I don’t think so.”
David carefully placed the sculpture back on his table. “Well, perhaps for safety concerns, you should refrain from handling it until we can learn more about it.”
“Maybe we shouldn’t even leave it here? I mean, if it’s… possessed or something? Maybe it’s not safe for you to have in your house?”
“A valid concern,” David conceded. “And if perhaps our possible poltergeist is still seeking it, I shouldn’t necessarily want him to find his way here. The question becomes, of course, where could we safely leave it? Not at the Crescent. Our spook would likely look there again.”
Dan was quiet as he considered various possibilities. “I wonder if Davie would help us,” he said after a long pause.
“Would he? Or rather, could he? What are you thinking?”
“Maybe he could keep it at his club? It’s probably not too dangerous for a bunch of dead people hanging out in an abandoned warehouse, right?”
“Hmmm. That could possibly work. Unless someone stumbled across it? A living someone, I mean. A vagrant or vandal or some young person out looking for mischief? We must remain vigilant when it comes to the possibility of placing innocent souls in harm’s way through any endeavors on our part, no matter how well-intentioned or precautionary then may be.”
“I think if Davie is willing to take it, we can find an adequate hiding place for now. And then he can keep an eye on it for us.” Dan sipped his water and looked over at the professor with his lips quirked in a half-smile. “Also? Trix is right. We should start calling you ‘Charlie,’ Professor Dickens, sir.”
David laughed good-naturedly. “It is what it is,” he said. “My companions as a child were books and that seems to have formed my vocabulary and speech patterns for better or worse.”
“Yeah. And you’re rockin’ it.” At David’s skeptical look, Dan nodded. “No, really. It suits you. I can’t actually picture you talking any other way. I mean, you quit teaching at the college but you’re always gonna be ‘the professor’ as far as I’m concerned.”
“Well, thank you, I suppose?” David chuckled softly as he turned his attention back to the sculpture. “We should find something for storing our friend here that will be sturdier than the shipping box he arrived in, I think. I found an old toolbox in the shed when I moved in. That might suffice.”
It was a quick trip to the seedier side of Sleepyside and Dan had no difficulties finding parking outside the derelict warehouse that served as what Mart had dubbed “Club Dead.”
“This is interesting,” David said, peering up through the windshield. “It almost looks like a movie set, specifically designed for the scene of a haunting or two. Are there any spirits about at the moment?”
“Not yet. It’s a bit early in the day,” Dan told him. “Usually, things don’t really start hopping until after sundown. But hopefully Davie is around. C’mon. We can go in through the side door. It’s never locked.”
“No, I suppose there wouldn’t be much point to that.” David climbed from the car and retrieved the metal box he’d left on the backseat.
Dan shivered as an icy blast of cold air hit them the moment they stepped inside the gloomy building. David clutched his box closer and shot Dan a curious look. “I felt that. Ghost?”
“Nope. Just weather,” Dan explained with a nod toward the many gaping holes in the warehouse roof. “Actually, I think the idea of ‘cold spots’ indicating a ghostly presence might be false. At least, I’ve been around plenty of them without noticing a drop in temperature.”
Hazy rays from a weak winter sun filtered down from above, leaving a contrast of light and shadow in the enormous space. A scattering of mismatched tables and chairs stood in a rough circle and cement blocks with a cracked wooden board served as the “stage” spirits used each night for their performances. David looked around with keen eyes, taking it in. “Fascinating. Absolutely fascinating. And that’s the bar over there?” He lifted his hand to point toward the back of the room.
“Yep. Davie’s usually back there. He doesn’t actually serve drinks, of course, but he does dispense advice to any wayward spirit like a good bartender would.”
“And the ghosts perform here.”
“Uh, huh. Singing, stand-up, banjo playing. A few weeks ago, Davie invited us to see a magician.”
“Really! Ghosts do magic, then?”
“Nah. I mean not real magic. Just tricks. And to be honest, not very good ones.”
“It’s a good thing Hugo isn’t around to hear you say that, kid. He’d be crushed.”
Dan turned quickly. “Davie! Great. You’re here.”
“Dead and in non-living person,” Davie said with a small bow. “What brings you here with your pet teacher?”
Dan glanced at the professor before answering. “We need your help. Well, a favor actually.”
David was standing still, watching his friend hold a conversation he could only hear from Dan’s side. He tried to visualize the ghost he knew was there. A little person dressed, as Trixie had once told him, in a full pirate costume, complete with Jolly Roger hat and shining saber.
“What kind of favor?” Davie asked, scowling. “You know I don’t much like dealing with the not dead.”
“Hello? Uh, hello?”
Davie and Dan both turned toward the new voice.
“Hello? I’m looking for the owner?”
“You found me,” Davie muttered. “And about time. You were supposed to be here hours ago.”
An extremely slender man stepped further into the light, looking about apprehensively. “I – Sorry. I got lost. Are… you have live people here? Is that safe?”
“Relax, Mack. This is Daniel. He’s one of The Three. And the other one can’t see or hear you anyway.”
“Oh! When you said I had to audition, I didn’t realize it was before a live audience.”
“That wasn’t the plan, but now that they’re here, they can be the judges.”
Dan blinked. “Audition? Judges?”
“Mack here thinks he’s a real talent.” Davie gestured vaguely toward the stage. “Let’s see what ya got. Dan can decide if you should get a shot tonight.”
“Me? I’m not really sure that’s the best idea…”
“You want a favor from me? You gotta do a favor in return.”
Dan huffed out a breath, noting that it hung before him in the frigid air. He was cold and tired and not in the mood for whatever was coming next, but he forced a smile to his face and nodded once. “Right. So, uh, do you want me to repeat and describe everything for the professor, or is it okay if I’m the only judge?”
“Let’s see how it goes,” Davie replied. “Let him be the tie-breaker if we need one.”
Dan studied Mack as he took the stage. He wasn’t particularly tall, but his slenderness somehow gave him the illusion of greater height than he truly possessed. He was dressed in jeans and a plain gray t-shirt. Along with his close-cropped, thinning hair, his outfit and appearance gave no solid clue of when he had lived or when he had met his demise. Dan could only narrow his guess down to likely not any earlier than 1980. As the ghost produced a set of black cat ears he settled on his head, Dan shot Davie an uncertain look, wondering what to expect. Davie simply shrugged.
Unable to see or hear the performance itself, David was forced to rely on watching the shifting expressions on his young friend’s face. What started as carefully neutral soon became noticeably perplexed before dissolving into absolute disbelief. Eventually, Dan was left staring at the stage, wide-eyed and slack-jawed. After several minutes passed, he broke into enthusiastic applause. “No, man, seriously,” he said in apparent earnestness. “I have never seen anything like that before. Amazing, dude. Truly. But you know what I think? You aren’t thinking big enough! Your audience here will be what? Maybe a dozen spooks and spirits, if you’re lucky? Why limit yourself like that? Out there? Man, you could have millions, even billions of fans. Go for it!”
There was a brief pause and then Dan’s shoulders slumped as he sighed in relief.
“Dan?”
Dan briefly rubbed his forehead before giving a small nod. “Yeah, he’s gone. But hang on,” he said. “Let’s take care of our business. Davie, now you really owe me that favor.”
They decided to leave the box inside another box and underneath an old tarp behind Davie’s makeshift bar.
“I don’t want whatever that is to stay here for long, kid,” Davie grumbled.
“Mart and Trixie will be home tomorrow,” Dan told him, “and hopefully between us and the professor, we can get some idea of what it is and whether it’s something to be concerned about or not. But, uh, I should warn you. There’s a dead guy after it.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. And he was murdered. So, he’s not in the best of moods.”
“Eh. We get that type here all the time. He can take a number.”
It wasn’t until they were back in the van and driving toward the center of town that Dan blew out a short breath and laughed ruefully. “I’m sure you’re dying to know… yeesh. Excuse the phrase.”
“Ah, yes, that particular colloquialism has an entirely new meaning for us now, doesn’t it,” David said with a light chuckle of his own. “But, yes, I would like to hear about it…?”
“Right, so, this guy, he was thin. I mean really thin. Like maybe even addict thin. And he put on cat ears.”
“Cat ears?”
“Yeah, you know, like those headbands preteen girls like to wear?”
“Ah, yes.”
“And then… and then, he performed a medley of Cats tunes. From the Broadway show.”
“Oh. Well, that doesn’t sound too awful. Was it? Was he a poor singer?”
“Uh… no? I mean, I guess he was in tune. But, the thing is, he performed as a cat.”
“Yes, well, cats do make up the characters of the production, after all.”
“Right. I know. You’re misunderstanding what I’m saying, though. He performed as a cat. The dude meowed the entire time.” Dan glanced over at the professor. “And he meant it. It wasn’t like some sort of wacky comedy act.”
“Oh, my. Yet your reaction at the end seemed quite positive?”
“Oh, yeah. Absolutely. Contributing to the creation of one poltergeist in the last twenty-four hours or so is enough for me. I wasn’t about to do anything that might lead to another. Thankfully, he jumped on the idea of a far greater audience and moved on.”
“Hmm. Well, that should be considered a success, then,” David remarked thoughtfully.
Dan braked for a red light, noting the empty intersection and wondering what other people were doing at that moment. Other normal people with normal lives who didn’t spend their days contending with crazy ghosts and angry witches and untold evil out to get them.
“He really meowed,” David murmured, a slow grin turning up the corners of his mouth.
“Yep. He really did. The whole time. Meow. Meow. Meow.”
The light turned green, but Dan did not immediately step on the gas. Gripping the wheel tightly, he stared straight ahead. “The whole time,” he said again. “The whole stinkin’ time.”
Moments later, as it finally rolled forward, the van was filled with the sound of both Dan and David roaring with laughter.
