Ghost Detectives Bk. 01: Discovery

On the Monday morning, John was down first and managed to catch James returning from the gym after his early morning workout and asked him what was wrong. James tried to procrastinate and try as he did, he just couldn't stay relaxed even after his workout.

"I know something happened the last time you were in the other dimension."

"What makes you think that?"

"Come on James what do you take me for, there is something serious on your mind. We are close friends as well as being brothers in law."

James had to say something. "Yes, I have a serious problem but can I please ask you to hold off until Saturday and I will tell you. For the rest of this week I want you and everyone to just enjoy themselves and put everything you have into our family. Will you do that for me?"

"I have little choice," he grumped, "yes of course I will."

"John, you do have a right to know what is on my mind but I see no value in telling you now for nothing I do or say, or what you can do or say will change anything. What I can tell you is that I am suffering badly with the knowledge in my possession. Now please, don't ask me again but just focus on enjoying the next few days or I may well break down and cry if you keep on pressuring me for information."

They left the hotel on the Friday, everyone in high spirits, the excitement in all their voices still very much palpable, everyone that is accept James. He was careful not to show it in company, but when no one could see him his demur soon gave him away and he fell into despair, recognising his father in law would not see this day out; at just after ten that evening, he would suffer a fatal heart attack, and even the compensation of knowing he would not suffer prolonged pain lent James not an iota of salvation, for tomorrow Ken would be dead.

Carolyn had retired to bed early that evening, but he knew he'd be getting precious little sleep. As each minute ticked forward, he reflected on a quote from Macbeth:

Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow,

Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,

To the last syllable of recorded time;

And all our yesterdays have lighted fools

The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!

Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player,

That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,

And then is heard no more. It is a tale

Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,

Signifying nothing.

How appropriate he thought. He looked at the clock, it was 9.30pm and phoned his in laws. Ken answered the phone and it took all his will power not to choke as he thanked him for making the last week special and expressed the love he held for him.

"I'm so lucky. You know James, I feel if I live to be a hundred, this last week will stay so very special to Janice and myself. I am glad you suggested it and now we have a cruise to look forward to over the next few months."

"I feel the same way and I want to thank you for all you have done for me and for giving me such a wonderful wife in my Carolyn, and Ken, this is from the heart, I am proud to call you dad and mam and to have known you all these years."

"You are feeling emotional tonight; anyway, I must go, Janice is making a cup of tea and then we're off to bed. I will speak with you tomorrow. How do you fancy coming over for lunch?" His in-laws weren't blood relatives, but he loved them with every fibre of his being, for love recognises no barriers and is always so full of hope and future happiness, but he knew there was no hope for Ken. James was crying into the phone trying not to show it. "Yes, that would be nice." He couldn't help himself saying it. "good bye my... If there is a heaven," he couldn't finish and rang off and whispered, "may God protect you and give Janice, John and my wife the strength to endure the next few weeks." He left the house, walked to the nearest public telephone and phoned emergency services informing them of a heart attack victim, suppling them with the address, at least, he reasoned, they'll be on hand at the time of his heart attack, but he knew it would do no good. It was more to ease his conscious than for hope of Ken's survival. His death had already been written and once written could not be unwritten; slowly, he walked home head bowed to wait the inevitable phone call.

He made himself a cup of tea and sat to wait. A half an hour later the phone rang. He stared at it as if it would sting him. He knew he had to pick it up and grabbed for it, his poison chalice and heard sobbing.

Janice, in a garbled shaky voice said, "James, James, is that you? She was straining to stay coherent.

His voice calm, neutral. "I'm here."

"Ken, he's gone," she sobbed.

"I know..." he needed to be careful what he said. He nearly told her he knew and was waiting for her phone call. "Are you all right, Janice?" Realising how stupid that sounded.

"He's dead."

"We're on our way. Have you phoned John or shall I phone him?"

"Could you, and the phone went dead."

Funny how the mind twists and turns when something dreadful happens. A dead Ken and a dead phone, he thought and just as quick threw the thought away. He walked up the stairs and woke Carolyn.

"James, come to bed," still a little disorientated from her sudden waking. She noticed him crying and jumped up and he explained. Soon they were in the car driving to John's house, rather than phone they would impart the bad news in person.

"John glared at James. If John were medusa his look would have turned James into stone and mouthed telling him he knew. With tear filling eyes, he nodded an affirmation and John turned away, aghast.

Janice sat in a chair sobbing, a few of the neighbours sitting with her left now the rest of her family had arrived. Carolyn bent down and hugged her mother soon followed by John, the three of them crying and hugging, consoling each other as their grief deepened as acceptance slowly crept into their consciousness; Ken was not coming back. Janice looked towards James her eyes telling him to join them, Carolyn stood and said she'd make tea and her mother joined her leaving the other two together.

John turned and started to walk away, "you knew and kept it from me, didn't you?"

"Yes, I knew."

"How could you?"

"John, what good would it have done? Nothing you, I, or anyone could have stopped it from happening."

"You phoned the paramedics, didn't you? That's why they turned up so quickly, and a few minutes later that's when it happened. They were there on site just before it occurred. You should have told me."

"I did what I thought was right."

John sat on a chair at the table and held his head in this hands tears running down his face. James walked up behind him and placed his hands on his shoulders. "Would you have acted the same if you had known? I wanted everyone together, happy. The only way to achieve that was to keep what I knew locked away from the rest of you."

John understand what James had done and realised his torment knowing and keeping that dark secret and felt his compassion rising. "I'm sorry I lost it. I understand it was hell for you. After giving it more thought, I believe I might well have acted the same way."

"That means a lot to me. I have been so worried about your reaction and felt so alone the past week. I phoned and spoke with Ken just after nine and he was happy. If it's any consolation he said, I'm so lucky. You know James, I feel if I live to be a hundred, this last week will stay so very special to Janice and myself."

John turned his head and looked at James and said, "thank you. You did right by us and I am so sorry what you have had to go through the last week. No one deserved what you had to endure cocooned within yourself watching us being so happy as a family when you suffered alone, forced to show the rest of us a happy smiling face."

After the funeral the following week, things settle down as life moved its inexorable way forward creating further history.

Chapter Five

Carolyn told James that Janice hadn't been managing very well over the last few weeks and suggested she go to stay with her for a while, he could visit and spend the occasional night. Even with the money they won, Carolyn still worked and was on compassionate leave. James, a trained psychologist, carried on with his normal routine.

With Carolyn being at her mother's John often stayed with James. They sometimes went to the pub, but tonight they intended to stay home and discuss the topic that was never far from their minds.

"Before you ask, no, I've not been back there since the funeral. I don't want to know the future, it's far too painful. I haven't even sat in the chair in case I doze off to sleep. If I could stop or change bad things from happening it may be different, but I can't."

John screwed his eyes up. "Are you sure?"

James was irritated. "I couldn't do a damn thing to help your father, so don't go there."

John drove his argument forward, "you did, you made sure we were all together for that week. The best week ever for him and for us and kept the pain to yourself. Look what he said to you just before he died, so yes, you made a positive difference. Providing the timeline of history is not altered, within that framework, you can change things. We stopped the rape, proof positive our actions do matter. It was my father's time to die like one day it will be yours and mine, it's our destiny, for change is the great constancy of our existence."

James' conscious mind still felt reluctant to visit or have anything to do with the other dimension. What he had experienced held a profound effect upon his psyche but his subconscious mind worked in the opposite direction and was weighing up the options. "I don't ever want to feel the pain of what I knew about Ken again and yet, I want to know, but realise I can't have one without the other."

John understood the duality of James' conundrum and asked him how he intended solving it.

"There is no solution, it boils down to either I know all or I know nothing."

John looked at him and waited. "You intend to go back," it was an obvious statement but he wanted him to spell it out.

"Yes, and I'll take a recorder and writing pad with me."

James walked forward. John tried to follow but as James went through he found himself alone wedged against the window. He sighed to himself and flopped down on the settee to wait for James to return.

The garden looked the same but the weather had changed from cloud and drizzly rain into a hot sunny day. James knew he had moved into his future, inside the mirror reality that was but a replica of his own and walked out of the garden heading into town paying minute attention to any changes in the environment while walking towards the library. Now alert, he noticed several minor changes. A house being built on the corner of High Street had a roof on it, that wasn't the case where he'd just come from and the library had been painted and scaffolding had been removed from the statue at the crossroads. Small changes granted, but still changes, showing that time had moved forward.

Taking a seat in the library, he picked up the daily paper and the front page showed a picture of a woman living in Dean Street about a mile from where he lived who had been murdered two days previous. Her body had been found buried on waste ground just outside the cemetery, it was pure luck it had been found so quickly and it would not have been found at all if it wasn't near a badger sett.

Her husband had been charged with her murder; she was killed at home and her body moved in the boot of his car which showed spots of dried blood and DNA testing proved it to be hers also, one of her earrings was found in the boot. Tyre tracks, which matched his car, were also found near the badger sett. James thought it was a funny place to bury a body if the murderer never wanted it found.

The evidence against the husband proved overwhelming; the police had found the shovel he used to bury the body with his fingerprints over it. He was arrested at home the morning after the discovery of the body in a drunken stupor. When questioned, he wasn't even aware his wife had been missing let alone murdered, stating he had been drunk for the last few days after finding out she was having a clandestine affair.

Questioned further, he stated his wife had admitted to the affair but categorically refused to disclose the name of her paramour and refused to stop seeing him. He admitted to having a heated argument that lasted for over two hours until she rushed out and that was the last he saw of her. He then hit the whiskey bottle and stayed drunk for the next few days adamant he had not killed her despite the damming evidence culminating against him.

After investigation, there proved not a shred of evidence a lover had ever existed. The consensus among her many friends further concluded that there was no way she could have been having an affair, and the police, rightly, were sceptical especially after the few of the neighbours heard him shouting at her that he would kill her and feed her mangy body to the worms. After finishing reading the frontpage article it looked as if he was guilty of the murder.

As he carried on reading the rest of the paper another article caught his attention. A large oil tanker had run aground on rocks just off the Cornish coast, black oil hosing out of the crippled tanker into the water and washed ashore causing an environmental disaster and made a note of the tanker's name. A celebrity death from a suspected drug overdose, a politician caught with his hand in the till, a fire in London resulting in two deaths, and a few other articles. He looked at the horse racing winners from yesterday and made a note, and chuckled. He would have a little flutter and give the winnings to the battered wife's hostel in town.

As he left the library one of the librarians shouted his name and said, "See you later, Jamie." He turned knowing the face but not the name, in his reality, he called her Jane but wasn't sure here so thought it best to just wave. A thought suddenly hit him as he walked back; what if he chanced to bump into his double and his wife. In this reality, his garden was their garden, his face was his double's, here he was the interloper. What could he say to them if they met? He stopped just outside his, or was it not his garden? His mind jerked and jumped and circled frantically in a maelstrom of uncertainty as his brain tried to catch up with his confused thoughts; it frightened him almost into paralysis and he stopped walking. He needed to hurry back and return to his reality where he felt secure and approached the garden with caution looking to see if there was anyone in the house before he marched through the window. He found John lounging on the settee reading a book. Seeing James, he quickly jumped to his feet letting his book drop to the floor.

He saw the look on James' face. "What's wrong?"

James stepped over the book and flopped down on the settee and asked John if he could fetch him a glass of water.

"Here," handing the glass to him. John felt nervous, thinking not another family crisis. James quickly picked up on that thought and laid his mind to rest. "What is it then?"

"Thinking you are meeting people you know, but you don't. My house is not my house but someone else's and what would I say if I met them face to face? I am an alien, in an alien environment, but nothing there is alien to me. The people look and act the same, even their mannerisms are similar. Landscape, houses, shops, library, my house, all similar and yet so different."

John fully empathised with James' mindset waiting a little while for him to find his equilibrium before replying. "Everything you see is the same but a little into the future."

"I'm feeling fine now, but for a while back there I felt as if inside a cloud of unreality and it frightened me. There are a few things that will happen over the next month or two. One that is close to home which I think we should investigate and another, an environmental catastrophe. Thankfully there were no fatalities, nonetheless, I think we should try and avert it happening."

"Remember what we have discovered about the timeline of history."

"I'm aware of that," feeling a little irritated John mentioned it. "One is a murder, husband kills and buries wife, less than a mile from here. Everyone feels he is guilty, the police charged him after her body was found but he has denied it."

"In these cases, the husband is always number one suspect, and they all plead not guilty or give a defence of diminished responsibility no matter what evidence is arrayed against them. What makes you think this is any different?"

"Nothing really, but after reading the press article, the evidence against him is damming, but I'm not sure, it just seems too convenient."

After the shock he had just experienced, John felt he must not show even the slightest negativity. "I agree, if he's innocent we'll prove it. Where do we start?"

"First I need to pen an anonymous letter to the authorities and press informing them of a potential environmental catastrophe. We'll give the shipping line the heads up as well giving time and date of the potential disaster. Then we tackle the murder."

"When does the murder happen?"

"Today is Saturday, next Thursday afternoon at 10 Mantra Road. Morris Ellis is to kill his wife Sandra if the article I've read is correct."

"He may well be guilty."

"The evidence against him feels just a little too perfect. He was even seen blatantly placing a large object in the boot of his car in front of neighbours not even trying to be discrete."

John needed to act the provocateur. "You inferred that from reading one article? Papers lie as much as politicians."

James immediately picked up on his scepticism. If their roles were reversed, he'd act the same way. "Not exactly," realising he needed to be more convincing. "I'm a psychologist, this is more of a gut feeling not from what I have read. Frankly, the pieces are too neat, too perfect, and in any event, we can check it out purely as an intellectual exercise to quell my insatiable curiosity. One night, then I'll know for certain. Call it a whim of mine if you like."

John knew better than to argue. "I'm with you. My army intelligence training will help us here. You have a plan? Of course you do," answering his own request, "you must have or you would not be looking at me with such confidence. You're a lot calmer now than you were a little earlier."

He chuckled. "I've got my mojo back. Changing the subject, when is Carolyn coming home?"

"I spoke with her last night and she's not sure, our mother is not holding up that well."

A blankness moved across James' countenance. His body language tightening, reinforcing what his face showed, as if to say: I feel the guilt, could I have done something to have prevented his death, simultaneously looking deep into John's eyes for absolution.

"James, you did right by us. Stop being eaten up with melancholic self-guilt. There is no guilt. There never should have been any guilt on your part and I was wrong to speak to you the way I did. That was anger and shock and I apologise again for what I thought and said. Anyway, it's time you got those letters written warning the world against the environmental disaster about to unfold."

Tuesday late morning, after spending Sunday and Monday researching, saw them outside Sandra's house sitting in James' new Rover. From what they gathered after discretely talking with neighbours, Sandra was a bit of a party animal and busy in the community with several projects, and had that annoying quality of being labelled as pushy and liked getting her own way, but she always spoke highly of her husband, and to all intent and purpose, had a happy marriage. Her husband seemed to be the easy-going type and left her to her own devices, always spoke highly of her when out socialising with his friends and they seemed happy when in each other's company. The only fly in the ointment, he drank far too much, and on a few occasions needed help in getting home and often passed out, remembering little the following morning, and he'd been like that for the last few years.