A Long Way Down [Ghostly Investigations]

Chapter 1Despite the late hour the heat was still stifling, causing sweat to run down Daw’s face and soak into his shirt so that it clung to his body like a second skin. It brought back memories of the night, almost ten years ago, when he’d fled home in fear of his life. The ache in his left wrist added another reminder of what had happened as he started up the fire escape to the roof, hoping to find at least a bit of a breeze. He pushed the thoughts away, concentrating on making it to the top without anyone being aware of what he was doing. “Don’t look up,” he whispered when he saw a man, obviously homeless, come into the alley. He froze, one foot on the next step, watching. The man shuffled along, finally seeing a darkened doorway he must have thought was safe enough to crash for the night. Daw knew it was. He’d been there moments before, until the heat drove him to look for somewhere cooler—if possible. When he was on the roof, he turned slowly, checking to see if anyone else was up there. He spotted movement at the far end. In the pale light from the moon, he made out the figure of a girl he thought he recognized, looking up at the edge of the next roof a few feet above her. “Need a boost?” Daw asked, strolling toward her. She spun around, her hands raised defensively. Then she said, “Damn, you scared the s**t out of me, Daw.” “Sorry, Jamie. The question still stands. Need a boost?” Since Jamie was a good six inches shorter than Daw’s five eleven, it was a logical assumption. “Yeah, if you would. I figure it’s gotta be cooler up there.” She tossed her backpack up and it thumped when it landed. “Let’s hope.” Daw put his pack down, linked his hands together, the good one gripping his weaker wrist. “Step up, but make it fast.” Jamie did as he said, grabbed the edge of the roof, and pulled herself over the edge. Then, lying on her stomach, she said, “Hand me your pack.” Daw nodded, did, and then with a running start, jumped up to catch hold of the roof’s edge, and was on it seconds later. “You okay?” Jamie asked, glancing at Daw’s left arm. “Yeah, I’m good,” Daw told her as he bent to snag his backpack, which kept Jamie from seeing the pain etched on his face. “Not much cooler up here, but at least there’s a bit of a breeze.” They moved to the parapet at the front edge of the roof and sat, leaning back against it. “How’s things?” Jamie asked. “How do you think?” Daw replied. “I’m here, I’m alive, so I guess it could be worse. Could be a hell of a lot better, too, but that ain’t happening.” “Yeah, know what you mean. Guess there’s one thing to be thankful for. It ain’t snowing.” “Right now, I almost wish it was.” Daw was tempted to take his shirt off, but didn’t, in deference to Jamie who, he knew, was leery of men to begin with. That she accepted his friendship still surprised him given her background, so he made it a point to tread carefully around her. Instead he wiped his face with the shirtsleeve. “I sweat any more I’m gonna be like that witch in that movie.” Jamie laughed. “I think she melted ‘cause Dorothy dumped water on her.” “Sounds good to me right now. The water, I mean.” Daw turned to peer over the parapet. “It’s so damned hot people are staying in where there’s AC.” “Yeah. Makes panhandling bad. When do we get a break?” Daw snorted. “Never? At least not for guys like us.” “Tell me ‘bout it.” They sat in silence for a moment, then Jamie said, “You hear ‘bout Wink?” “Nope.” Daw shook his head. “To be honest, I haven’t seen him in a while and that’s fine with me.” “Won’t be seeing him again, either. He took a dive off a roof.” “Huh?” “Yeah. Only rumor has it he didn’t do it on purpose. And he’s at least the second guy in the last month it happened to.” Daw slanted a look at her. “No s**t?” He frowned when what Jamie said sank in. “Like someone pushed them off?” “Maybe? I hit up the soup kitchen at that church downtown, umm, two nights ago, to get something to eat.” Jamie chuckled. “Had to listen to a sermon before they fed us but…” She shrugged. “Anyway, some guys were talking ‘bout it. Saying maybe it wasn’t safe to crash on roofs anymore. Least not alone.” “Then we’re good.” Daw pointed to Jamie and himself. “Guess you didn’t believe it, though, since you were up here on your lonesome before I showed up.” Jamie smiled bleakly. “Hot as it is, I figured it was worth the risk. ‘Specially with the smell down there from the Dumpsters.” Daw had to agree with that. They reeked so bad he’d given up Dumpster diving. It meant he had to figure out other ways to get something to eat—like on his knees in a secluded area of one of the local parks, where johns knew they could get a quick, cheap blowjob. Even after all of his years being homeless, he still hated doing that. But like Jamie said, sitting on the sidewalk with a cup, hoping someone would donate some spare change, wasn’t happening right now. “This heat wave better break soon,” he grumbled. “Um-hmm.” Jamie yawned as she settled on her stomach with her pack under her head. “Might see if I can sleep.” “Me, too.” Daw stretched out on his back, using his pack as a pillow, staring up at the dark sky. It took him a while to fall asleep as his thoughts went back to what Jamie had told him. He listened for any signs someone else was on one of the roofs. The only sounds he heard came from the occasional car or truck passing on the street below them. Eventually, he fell into a restless slumber plagued by nightmares of being pushed off the roof, mixed with ones of his last day at home. Those would never leave him alone for long, but he’d learned to deal with them, as he had with everything else in his life since he’d become homeless. * * * * There was no sign that the heat wave would break anytime soon, at least according to a story in a discarded newspaper Daw retrieved from a trash container outside a convenience store two days after he’d run into Jamie. He’d spent the daylight hours seated in the shade in front of one restaurant or another along a street where he often panhandled, his cup between his feet as he read a paperback thriller he’d boosted from a table in front of a used book store. Once the sun went down, he’d moved to a park where it was minimally cooler, hoping to hook up with a john looking for a blowjob. He got lucky, once, and spent the money the guy had paid him on a burger and fries at an all-night diner, relishing the cold from the AC almost more than the food and the chance to use the restroom to clean up and brush his teeth. He decided it was time to hit up a shelter for another hygiene kit. A necessity since he only had one condom left, and the small tube of toothpaste that came with the kits was almost empty. In general he had no use for shelters. He didn’t own much but what he had was his and he didn’t intend on losing it to some punk who decided to walk off with his pack while he slept. That, and the bugs and diseases rampant in some of them meant he’d rather take his chances sleeping rough. The only advantage of the one he headed to the following morning was that it had a walk-in clinic. The nurses who ran it accepted the fact that a lot of homeless guys had no other recourse than selling themselves to keep body and soul together, so they handed out the kits and condoms without questions or lectures. While he waited his turn in line, Daw listened to what the other men were saying. Mostly it was pissing and moaning about the weather, which didn’t surprise him. Then he overheard two guys talking about another man who had apparently jumped off the roof of a building about a mile from the downtown area of the city. “Jumped or was pushed,” one of them said. “Yeah, I hear you,” the other guy replied. “Not that the cops give a damn, even if it was the third one this month. They figure the less of us the better, and I bet they’re writing it off as a suicide or to the dude being drunk or high and stupid.” “No shit.” Daw frowned, wondering if he knew who it was. Not that he had many friends on the streets, but he’d been around long enough to know names, if nothing more. He’d known Wink—and had decided he didn’t like him. The feeling was mutual. Still, that’s a hell of a way to die. And if you didn’t, you’d probably be handicapped for the rest of your life. If I decided to kill myself, sure wouldn’t take that route. As horrible as his life had been since escaping the terror of his final night at home, he had never once considered killing himself. It’s not me. Someday things will get better, I hope. I won’t find out if I’m lying in some unmarked grave. He walked out of the shelter with two kits, thanks to a nurse who took one look at him and said, not unkindly, “I’ve got the feeling you’ll need them if you’re going to make enough to put some meat on your bones.” She had a point and Daw knew it. He’d never been a heavyweight, but now he was more scarecrow than lion, to hark back to Jamie’s reference to that old movie. At least I’ve got more brains than the scarecrow. That evening, he got lucky again—If I can call it that. Two johns approached him, guys he’d dealt with before so they knew the routine and what it would cost them. With money in his pocket, he went back to the diner, had a real meal—meatloaf, mashed potatoes, and corn, with a soda—and still had some cash left. He stuck it under the insole of his well-worn tennis shoes, and then decided to return to the rooftop he and Jamie had used a few days previously. He didn’t expect to find her there, so he wasn’t disappointed when he clambered up the fire escape and found he was the only one around. He was a bit surprised about that, however. On a normal night there would have been at least a couple more homeless guys, or women, staking their claim to a section of the roof. “On the other hand,” he said under his breath, “this is the first time I’ve been on one since Jamie told me about guys who’d fallen or were pushed to their deaths. Over-cautious, maybe, but why take a chance?” He went onto the higher roof, savoring the thin breeze that had sprung up. He knew it wouldn’t last for long but he’d take what he could get. Crossing to the parapet, he dropped his pack beside it, knelt, and leaned over, looking at the street several stories below. It was late enough that there was minimal traffic and the only people he saw were a group of four men wearing dark blue slacks and shirts. Daw figured they were janitors, heading home from cleaning one of the buildings below him. He was tired, probably because he’d had a full meal for the first time in forever. Turning away from the view, he took a short metal bar from his pack then laid down, using the pack as a pillow after he’d put the bar under it where he could reach it instantly in case of trouble. Closing his eyes, he fell into a fitful sleep. Then, he didn’t know how much later, he felt a hand covering his mouth right before he was pulled to his feet. All he could think of was how he’d been dragged from what he’d thought was a safe hiding place, the second night after ending up on the streets, and like then, he fought back. Whoever had him released their hold and he dropped to one knee, scrabbling under his pack for the bar. “Looking for this?” The man’s voice was cold and angry as he pulled Daw up again. Then, he swung the bar. It hit Daw across the side of his head, dazing him. The next thing he knew he was flying, headed straight to the pavement several stories below.