Alex awoke slowly the next morning. He was dimly aware that,
whereas he usually awoke lying on his side, he was currently still laying on
his back, with the sensation of an object on his legs; what could it be? Alex
shifted his legs and rolled over, feeling the weight leave his legs—
He
snapped awake and lunged forward just in time to catch his laptop before it hit
the floor. He flinched at the sight of a person standing in his room, but it
was only Marlo.
“Morning,”
she said gently. “Sleep well?”
Alex
laid his computer on the bedside table and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. “Is
it eight o’clock already?” he moaned.
Marlo
smiled, “Well, technically, yes, but Ted
and I—and now you—“
Alex
stood up, “Never mind, I get it,” he muttered, heading for the shower.
When
he emerged, the Brendons were waiting for him in the kitchen. Alex paused as
they watched him, and he realized that this morning, he was seeing them with
new eyes. They weren’t just a couple of random ghosts that had shown up to
teach him a lesson any more; it was almost as if reading all the stories,
eulogies, and obituaries the previous night had brought them back to life
again.
“Why
are you staring?” Ted broke the silence. “Are you going to get breakfast?”
Alex
turned to the cupboard and took out a bowl and a box of cereal.
“Where—where
do you guys go when you’re not around me?” Alex asked uncertainly as he poured
the cereal into the bowl and went to the refrigerator for a carton of milk.
Ted
and Marlo glanced at each other. “We just—“ Marlo began.
“It’s
like we close our eyes,” Ted tried to explain.
“To
be honest,” Marlo finished with a shrug, “we don’t understand it ourselves. But
we do honor the agreement we made when we first met, Alex, don’t worry.”
“Wait
a minute,” Ted grinned, “were you hoping we didn’t see how your date went last
night?”
Marlo
laid a hand on Alex’s arm sympathetically, “Oh, was it that bad? I’m so sorry!”
Alex
shrugged, “It wasn’t terrible, I just—“ he stopped, but finished in his mind, I
was snooping around about you, and I kind of don’t want you to know.
“Let
me guess,” Ted supplied with a grin, “she got drunk again?” Alex nodded. “Come
on, Alex; what makes you think that being in a relationship with you will make
her any different? Isn’t there anyone you
can think of that would be better than chasing after a spoiled, rich—“
“Drunkard?”
Marlo finished bitterly.
Alex
hung his head and extended his hands defensively, “Yeah, okay, so she is in the
habit of going overboard—but I aim to change that!”
Ted
chuckled, “How are you going to get her to keep going out with you long enough
to do that?”
Alex
shrugged and grabbed his cap and badge. “Forget I asked, then!” he spat.
The
young man jerked back for no apparent reason—until he noticed Ted’s hand on his
shoulder. “Look,” the older ghost said, “if you’re really that worried about
it, Marlo and I will stay out of your way during your off-duty hours.”
Alex
nodded, “Thanks,” he replied.
Marlo
rubbed her hands together, “Now, let’s get you to work!”
Alex
clocked in and got right on his shift. He noticed that his list of patrols was
much longer than normal, taking up most of his on-duty time instead of only
half or so. He chuckled to himself; word had probably gotten around that Alex
Davis was accepting more duties. Did he mind? A bit, he had to admit; but with
the ghosts around, they actually made his job a little easier. On domestic
disturbance calls, rather than having to chase the perpetrator through the
house, he could ask one of the Brendons to go ahead of him and let him know if
the coast was clear. In case he needed to search a house, the two ghosts could
go through every cupboard and drawer without the owner knowing, and they could
let Alex know if there was anything for him to “find.” Missing persons cases
were a bit trickier, but Ted or Marlo were willing to visit the time in
question when the person supposedly disappeared (provided they knew
approximately where to look), and verify the witnesses’ stories.
In
the late afternoon, the dispatcher called because the silent alarm at the
Beautiful Sun Bakery had been triggered. Alex headed right over, reveling in
his newfound sense of efficiency.
Siren
wailing, lights flashing, Alex pulled to a halt right at the curb in front of
the bakery. He jumped out of the car just in time to see a man with a gun dash
out the door.
“Hold
it right there, mister!” he ordered, whipping out his sidearm.
The
man whirled toward the young officer and nearly pointed the pistol in his hand
at him, but thought better of it. He insisted on trying to back away. Alex clearly
saw his pockets and his jacket bulging with cash.
“Stop
where you are,” Alex told him, “kneel on the ground, and put your hands behind
your head.”
The
man dropped the gun and took of running down the block.
“Dangit,”
Alex muttered, taking off after him. He clutched the call button on his radio.
“This is Officer Davis, I’m on Turnkey Avenue, pursuing robbery suspect on
foot, heading east.” The man turned south down Everine Boulevard, which Alex
called in and added, “Somebody please be waiting for us on the corner of
Everine and 53rd!”
“I’ve
got your back, Davis,” Derby’s voice crackled over the radio. “I recall you did
the same for me once last week.”
Thanks,
Derby, Alex thought to himself, too worried
about keeping tabs on the fleeing suspect to bother replying. True to Alex’s
prediction, the man turned down 53rd Street, and there was Patrol
Unit 823, waiting for them. The passenger door opened and Chris stepped out,
training his gun on the man with the stolen money.
“Freeze,”
he instructed calmly.
The
man stopped, gasping for breath, and dropped to his knees.
Chris
slapped cuffs on the miscreant while Alex dug all the cash out of the man’s
jacket.
“I’m
going to return this to the bakery,” he told Chris.
The
junior officer shook his head. “First you take a silent alarm call, then you chase the guy down three blocks, and now
you’re gonna walk all the way back to return the money?” He winked at Alex,
“Who are you and what have you done with my buddy Smooth Davis?”
Alex
playfully punched Chris in the shoulder, “Hey, a guy can have a change of
scenery once in a while, can’t he?”
“I
dunno,” Chris responded, guiding the guy into the back seat of the patrol car.
“In your case it’s more like a paradigm shift than just a change of scenery!”
“See
you back at the station, Chris,” Alex said, walking away.
It
took him fifteen minutes to cover the distance he’d covered in about ten,
running the other direction. He imagined the proprietor was a bit worried about
the stolen cash, and he relished the admiring gaze he would get when he showed
back up with the money.
He
stepped in the door of the Beautiful Sun Bakery. He couldn’t see anyone, but he
clearly heard the sound of someone crying.
“Hello?”
he called.
A
young woman immediately stood behind the counter, wiping her face furiously.
“I’m sorry; can I—oh!”
She
gasped when Alex silently laid the stolen money on the counter in front of her.
Finally, she lifted her face and looked at him. Her brown eyes sparkled as a
smile broke over her features, “My hero!” she exclaimed.
Alex
started, “Daphne?” he cried before he
could stop himself.
She
laughed, “I must be your lucky victim or something, always getting into trouble
when you’re around!” She sighed as she accepted the money and sorted it back
into the register. “I was so flustered with orders from customers that I wasn’t
even looking at them till he was up at the counter with the gun in my face.”
She closed the drawer. “I only thought about getting the police over quick
enough before he noticed, so the trick-bill was one of the first I pulled out.”
She wiped a hand across her face, “It’s a good thing you got here when you did!
I never expected to be in that kind of situation, and I never want to go
through it again!” She moved over to the rows of bagels, cookies, doughnuts,
and cakes in the display case. “So what can I get you?”
Alex
shook his head, “Oh, no, I shouldn’t—“
“Please?”
Daphne begged. “It’s the least I can do after you chased down that guy for me;
pick any one, on the house!”
Alex
glanced toward the Brendons, who had joined him in the little bakery. Rather
than gesturing him back out to the car, Ted nodded and said, “Go ahead and pick
something, Alex; you’ve earned it. Marlo and I will make sure you don’t miss
anything important.”
Alex
glanced over the choices, “I’ll take the turkey sandwich and the brownie,” he
said.
“Coming
right up!” Daphne chirped. “You can have a seat at one of the tables.”
Alex
waited, fidgeting, while Daphne prepared his order.
“Go
on,” Marlo hissed in his ear, “Make conversation!”
“So,
um,” Alex fought for something to talk about, “You… like baking things?”
Marlo
rolled her eyes as Daphne laughed, bringing his sandwich and brownie and
joining him at the table. “Not entirely, but it pays the rent.”
Alex
glanced around, wondering how a small place like this could generate enough of
a salary to afford the rent on even a small apartment. “Really?” he queried
skeptically.
Daphne
fidgeted nervously with the corner of the napkin, “Well, this and a few other
jobs—but someday I’m going to own a house of my own, free and clear, and not
have to worry about rent or mortgages again!” This last was said with absolute
finality and infectious enthusiasm.
Alex
chuckled as he bit into the turkey sandwich. “So what other jobs do you have?”
he asked.
“Well,
in the mornings I start out at the Mall,” Daphne sighed, “then I come here and
work the afternoon shift. Actually, in about five minutes the dinner crew is
going to get here, and I’ll move on to my next job, cleaning some of the houses
in the downtown block.”
Alex
nodded out of courtesy as he finished the sandwich; inside, he nearly choked on
the sandwich as he calculated how much work Daphne must do in a day to afford
to live in her apartment. He always considered himself lucky to be able to live
in the apartment block owned by the police station, and drive his patrol car
for most of the day. He never realized until that moment just how lucky he was.
“How
can you stand it?” the question was out before he had even finished thinking
it.
Daphne
cocked an eyebrow at him, “Stand what?”
Alex
shrugged, “Doing all that work!”
The
girl—who looked not much older than Alex, in fact she was probably a few years
younger—shrugged, “I’m used to it, I guess,” she sighed. “I’ve had to work like
this since I was eighteen years old.”
Alex
found the brownie moist and easier to swallow than the sandwich. “Parents kick
you out, eh?” he guessed.
Daphne
fidgeted awkwardly, “Something like that,” she muttered.
Instantly,
Alex regretted his words. He finished his brownie and stood up quickly. “Ah,
thanks for the lunch break,” he told her, “and you have a good day.”
“Thanks
for bringing my money back,” Daphne said waving to him as he left.
Alex
climbed back into the car. As he sat down, he saw the Brendons in his rearview
mirror. They were both grinning like they had a secret.
“What?”
he asked suspiciously as he pulled away from the bakery.
“Nothing,”
Ted responded dismissively.
“Turn
up your scanner, dear,” Marlo informed him, and that was the end of that
matter.
They
directed him through calls for the rest of the afternoon and evening. Once or
twice, Alex would decide to listen to the calls carefully for himself,
listening not for the kinds of calls most likely to involve beautiful women as
he used to, but trying to see if he could pick out the sort of calls the
Brendons would call his attention to before they in fact did so. Ted and Marlo
were both impressed as Alex took this initiative near the end of his shift,
never knowing that Alex was using as a guide his knowledge of the kind of
people they used to be, which he had gleaned the night before.
Before
they left, when Alex returned to the station at eight o’clock, Marlo turned to
him with a grin.
“Earlier
today,” she mused, “you stopped and helped that elderly lady load the bags into
her trunk.”
Alex
eyed her warily while trying to hide his wariness. “Yeah,” he responded, “what
about it?”
“Did
you know her?”
Alex
was able to honestly reply, “No.” The woman had been the recipient of numerous
good deeds from the Brendons. He had only recognized her from the picture in
the news article he read about her.
Marlo
was not convinced he was telling the truth, “It looked like you did,” she
accused.
Alex
laughed and shook his head, “Nope, I don’t know who that lady was,” he slipped
his hands in his pocket casually, “I just noticed she needed help.”
“Oh,
you noticed?” Ted repeated, as unconvinced as his wife. “Well, it looks like
our training has done some good, Marlo!”
“Good
night, Alex,” Marlo smiled at him, a genuine, warm smile. “See you in the
morning.”
“Good
night, you guys,” Alex replied.
As
soon as the ghosts left, Alex waited a few moments, then returned to the
station bullpen. Hard at work at his desk was Detective Morgan Haversham. He
was usually out of the station before Alex came in, and doing his deskwork when
Alex returned and checked out for the night. Alex approached him cautiously.
Haversham looked up.
“Davis,”
he cried with a smile, “I thought you’d left already. Did you need something?”
Alex
swallowed and tried to formulate his request as innocently as possible. “I, um,
I heard you were the detective on the Brendon case.”
Haversham
snorted, “You mean the Brendon murders,
don’t you?” Suddenly, his face became grave, “Where did you hear that?” he
asked suspiciously.
From
the Brendons themselves, Alex thought,
while he tried to remain vague, “Oh, I heard some of the other guys talking
about it. Hey, I was wondering—could I possibly have a look at that file, do
you think?”
Haversham,
a heavyset, balding man with a thick handlebar mustache, leaned back and
grinned at the young cop. “Oh, I know what this is about!” he cried,
“Next-of-kin probably called you about the loot, didn’t they?”
This
was not entirely what Alex was expecting. “Well, I sort of wanted to see the
insurance list—but why would the next-of-kin have to call it in here?”
“See,
kid,” Haversham rubbed his mustache as he dug the Brendon file out of the desk
drawer and laid it on the desk, “The wife, Mrs. Brendon, had a bunch of
heirlooms that belonged to her family, and she had them all insured—but it was
through a private company, with some really unorthodox policies.”
Alex
saw the short piece of paper he sought, just barely protruding from the file.
Perhaps if he engaged the detective enough, Haversham would let him see it.
“Unorthodox, how?” he asked.
“Well,”
Haversham finally opened the file and rubbed his forehead. “I called the agent
who set it up, and the way I understood it, only the wife could get any money out
of the policy if the loot was stolen or if she decided to sell the heirlooms.”
He shook his head,
“Almost as soon as we put the word
out that she was dead, she had brothers and sisters and cousins coming out of
the woodwork, calling to see if they could get any money off of the insurance
on those heirlooms. But the way the policy worked, they would have to get the
loot back to collect the money, since Mrs. Brendon was dead. Of course, they
all didn’t want to have to find the things to get the money, they just wanted
the money, so they gave up after a few days.” He rubbed his chin, “Odd thing
happened two days after the murder, though.”
Alex’s pulse raced briefly, “What
happened?”
“Well, I’d sent the bodies off to
the morgue to be claimed by family members, but I guess when the wife’s family
went to claim the bodies, they were already gone.”
Alex furrowed his brow and frowned,
“So the bodies were claimed two days after the murder happened, but there’s
been no word on the stolen property?”
Haversham paused and
closed the file. “Well, not till you came along, son. So what happened, did you
or one of your buddies get a call from the family or something?”
Alex
saw that he wasn’t getting that list tonight; he would have to try something
else. “Oh…no,” he replied, “I just heard about that case and I was curious
about what exactly got stolen.”
Haversham
smirked, “Derby tells me all the officers think you’re gunning for a promotion
to lieutenant, and I didn’t believe him, but you’re really sounding like it,
Davis!”
Alex
flushed at the observation, and tried to shrug it off, “I guess you could say
that,” he pretended to admit.
Haversham
chuckled, “And you think finding the stolen loot will get it for you? Not
likely!” He winked and pulled a copy of the insurance list out of the file.
“But have at it, for what it’s worth; I’ve got too many other cases to handle
to worry about tracking down lost items on a closed murder case.”
“Thanks,
Detective.”
“Don’t
mention it,” Haversham waved his hand dismissively as Alex walked out.
“Seriously, Davis,” Alex stopped as the older man continued, “The Chief will
have my hide if he finds out I gave that to you. Don’t ever tell anyone.” He wagged a beefy finger. “As far as anyone knows,
you’re not on this case—unless of
course, something turns up; you let me know!”
“Right,
I will,” Alex promised, and left the station. On his way back to the apartment,
he tried calling Adelaide, but she never answered. Alex left her a voicemail,
letting her know that he was interested in a second date. He then walked home
and went to bed.
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