Ghostly Investigations

Chapter 1-2

“It wasn’t one of the tree branches,” Jon said, reading over Detective Harris’ shoulder as he wrote up his report. “Weapon: Unknown.”

“Until the autopsy, hopefully,” Brody replied. “And unknown could mean they didn’t find the weapon even if it was one of the branches. The killer could have, probably would have, taken it with him.”

The detective continued his report, saying under his breath, “It can’t have been a mugging. Not when the perp didn’t take the cash, but did search the car. No one has an empty glove compartment. No one. What was the guy looking for in Mr. Watt’s wallet?”

“What was in your wallet?” Brody asked Jon.

“The usual. Driver’s license, a couple of credit cards, cash.” Jon peered over the detective’s shoulder again. “Oh yeah. The spare key to my apartment, in case I lost my keyring, I guess, and a business card from work. Everything was still there, according to his report.”

Brody nodded. “No slips of paper with names or phone numbers?”

“Not according to what he listed. If there were, I don’t remember.”

“Does he say what was in your pockets?”

Jon looked then shook his head. “Nothing but my wallet and keys.”

“You traveled light.” Brody smirked. “Are you sure you weren’t an undercover cop?”

Jon didn’t even smile, replying, “Right now I’m not sure of anything other than that I’m dead.”

“Yeah, I get that.”

Detective Harris stretched, rolling his shoulders, read over his report before printing it out, then shut down the computer. Putting the report in a folder, he filed it, stood, and headed out of the squad room.

“Guess that’s it,” Jon said. “Now what?”

“Go back to your place and get some sleep.”

“We sleep?”

Brody nodded. “Why not? Do you think we spend all our time hanging around where we died, scaring the s**t out of anyone who comes by, like in bad horror movies?”

“Well…Okay. I see your point. Will I see you again?”

“Yep. We’ll hook up tomorrow, umm, later today, at your apartment. We have to figure out who wanted you dead, and why.”

“Not that we can do anything about it,” Jon replied, resigned to the idea.

“You never know.” Brody patted Jon’s shoulder then suggested they head out. “You can fly there, like spooks in those horror movies. It’s easier than walking.”

“Are you serious?”

“Have I lied to you yet?”

“Not that I know of.”

Brody vanished before Jon could say anything more. Taking his word for it, Jon left the station house before imagining himself flying over the city to his apartment building. It worked. When he was inside his apartment he collapsed into bed. “I probably can’t shower and brush my teeth anymore. Or eat. Or…” he muttered morosely. “This being dead sucks. All I can do is go through things, and float.”

He reached for the book sitting on the nightstand by the bed. His hand went straight through it—and the nightstand. Why can I lay on the bed? Mind over matter? Maybe, I guess. He concentrated on picking up the book, with no success. Brody said it took him a while to be able to open doors. Even tonight, it took him focusing on it to get the back door open. He frowned. Why was it unlocked? It shouldn’t have been. I should let the detective know…Yeah, right. How? Write him a note? Not happening since I can’t hold a pen. Appear in front of him? I wonder if I could. I’ll have to remember to ask Brody.

Jon put his hands behind his head, staring up at the ceiling. I’ve got a lot to learn about this being dead thing. And where will I stay? Not here. Not after tonight. They’re going to rent the apartment to someone new. I’m not sharing with a guy, or girl, I don’t know. Not that they’d know it, but still…Yawning, he rolled on his side and fell asleep.