Spiritual Love Story 2

"If you want me to find the killer, I'm going to need a little more to go with."

"We know who the murder is; it was my father. Celadon and Stella were...involved with each other. Our father found out, and shot Celadon.

Stella panicked, and helped him cover up the traces, but now she's worried that he's going to try to silence us, because we know too much. If we can gather the proof of his crime, then he'll be in jail, and he can't harm us." I nodded, as if I was totally taken in by this pile of bull-crap.

"That's why she didn't want to be seen," I surmised. Franklyn nodded.

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"It's unlikely that Father would think to find us here, but we can't be too careful. That's why we chose you, rather than one of the better detectives." I leaned forward on my desk, resting my elbows on it and pressing my fingertips together. Clearly Franklyn didn't realize how insulting he was being; either that or he simply didn't care. I really wanted to know what Celadon was doing, but he was out of my line of sight, and I couldn't risk Franklyn suspecting that I could see his deceased brother.

"There was an official inquest?" I asked. Franklyn grimaced.

"Suicide," he said. "We cleared the fingerprints off the gun, and placed it in Celadon's hand." Gotcha, I thought. First Stella was the one who helped conceal the murder, and now it was "we". Liars always managed to trip themselves up.

"So," I said, with my best poker face, "You want me to open up a closed case, and get your father convicted of murder. How long ago was your brother killed? The fresher the evidence, the better."

"Three weeks," Franklyn said. "We would have come to you sooner, but the murder was in the front room of our house, and we couldn't risk you investigating when my father was around. He leaves for a business trip in two days."

"O.k.," I said. "I'll come and investigate the crime scene in two days time." Two days for Stella and Franklyn to plant their "evidence". If I wasn't so sure that this case was a set up I wouldn't bet the wilting pot plant on there being any evidence left over. I wondered what the chronically stupid pair would come up with to plant.

"In the meantime, I'll have a snoop around; see if I can come up with any leads. O.K? Make sure that both you and your mother-"

"Step-mother," He interjected tersely. Touchy subject, obviously. "Step-mother," I corrected, "are there, I'll need to talk to the both of you in detail if you want me to get a case together that will stand up in court. I also need your Father's full name."

"It's David Griffin. I'm sure you've heard of him." I hadn't, but I couldn't be bothered to play out this farce any longer than was necessary. I wanted Franklyn gone, so I could talk with Celadon. I stood up, and walked around the desk, holding out my hand. Franklyn looked at my outstretched palm for a moment, and then took it in a surprisingly limp grasp. "I'll see you in two days time, and I'm sorry for your loss." I said. Franklyn let go of my hand. He didn't look sorry at all as he thanked me, and left my small office. I turned to find Celadon leaning next to the small, grubby window on the back wall.

"So, want to tell me what really happened?" I asked. He didn't appear surprised that I could see him. I wondered if he was aware he was dead. I had been able to see ghosts and spirits for as long as I could remember, and the majority of them fell into two categories. The first were those who weren't aware that they had died, and who generally went around trying to get their loved ones to notice them. They tended to vanish, or move on or whatever once they realized that they had died. Then there were the ones who knew they were dead, but were determined to not move on. Sometimes they could be downright malicious Celadon pushed himself away from the wall; he wasn't see-through in any way, but then, none of the ghosts I had seen were.

They were just something I saw, and no one else could. "Do you know how much effort it took for me to get them to come and see you?" He asked me. "I'm flattered," I said dryly. "Why did you want to see me specifically?" How he had managed it was another question I wanted to ask, but I had a feeling that he wouldn't tell me. There was something special about this ghost, and not just the fact that he was gorgeous. Celadon's lips twitched in an almost smile. "You're well known in occult circles," he said, "the detective who sees spirits. The only person who can help me."

"Let me guess," I said, trying to forget the well known in occult circles part. "Your brother and step-mother were the ones involved in the affair. You found out about it, and to silence you one or both of them killed you. Now they're trying to frame your father, and you want what? Revenge?"

"Close," Celadon said, "but the truth is a little more twisted than that. I'm not the one who was killed, for a start."' I frowned. Celadon had seemed so lucid, and sure of himself. I hadn't figured him for one of the ones in denial. "Celadon," I said slowly, "I hate to break this to you, but you are dead. You're a ghost." Surprisingly, Celadon grinned. "And I thought that the walking through walls and being invisible to everyone was a new power I had developed," he said. "I may be a spirit at the moment, but my body isn't dead, detective,"

"Rick is fine," I interrupted. "Rick," Celadon smiled as he said my name, and a shiver tingled down my spine. Such a shame he wasn't corporeal. "My brother and I have dabbled in the occult for years, me more so than him. He...changed when my father remarried. That bitch got her claws into him, deep. Do you know he was only 13 years old when she seduced him?" He grimaced, and leaned back against the wall, carefully. As real as he looked, he would still pass through objects if he was not careful. "Anyway, they had been planning to kill my father, place the blame on me, and run off with his money, while I served a life sentence."

"Nice of them," I said. "That's what I thought. I found out about it, and went to see my brother. We had been close once, and I thought I could maybe talk him round. He pulled out a gun, and we tussled. He got shot. I was completely shocked, and he took advantage of that. Instead of moving on, he pushed me out of my body and claimed it for his own. I didn't realize that he had kept up his occult studies without me. I need you to help me get my body back. I don't want to be stuck here like this, and I definitely don't want to move on."

I reached into my desk draw, pulled out the bottle of whiskey, and took a long swig. It didn't really help, but it was the sort of thing you did when a ghost calmly told you something as surreal as this. I put the bottle down on my desk, fumbling slightly with the cap. "I don't understand what it is you want me to do," I said finally. "I mean, I can see ghosts, but that's as far as it goes. I don't know anything about witchcraft, or magic or any of that crap."

"You can see me, and talk to me. That's more than any of my friends, who know about `that crap' can do." He smiled again. That smile completely defeated me. "What do you want me to do?" I asked. "Firstly, I need you to speak to someone for me. He's a permanent resident at the Willow Hotel, room 659. He goes by the name Raven. It will need to be tomorrow, between three and five, because that's when my brother is in the area. I'm still bound to my body, so I can't go too far away from him."

"Then what happens?" I asked. I assumed that this Raven couldn't see Celadon, and I wondered how much help he would be. "Raven will be able to make a potion that will put my brother in a trance. I should be able to push his spirit out of my body, and re-claim it as my own." This was a bit too much for me to take in. Ghosts I was fine with, but potions and body swapping...I let out a deep sigh.

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