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[Hatcher]

One sentence summary: A pair of ghost hunters help the undead resolve their unfinished business and cross over to the other side during 1964-1966 New York.

It's a poorly written mystery/detective story.

Notes:
1- Since it's a poorly written detective story written for and primarily aimed at stupid 12 year olds, if you figure out all the plot twists beforehand please try your best to put speculations in spoiler tags.
2- There is very little back story to this, and if there was any back story it would be boring or irrelevant. (Stuff like how Cathy and Luke met would be boring. Stuff like what drove Cathy to be a spectral detective is irrelevant.) All chapters start at pretty much the beginning of a case, or right before the beginning of a case.
3- Story is mostly done, or at the very least planned together heavily so don't be insulted if you say something brilliant in a comment and the idea or suggestion isn't/wasn't used.
4- As implied by the chapter titles, a lot of time passes between chapters. Catherine and Luke do not live in a vacuum, and their lives do move forward when the spotlight is not on them. They do have cases, and they do meet people, and they do grow closer during this unseen time, however it is not-related towards the primary focus of 'Cleansed - The Spectral Detectives' so it is omitted. They do make references to it from time to time.

TM - 145W46: Monday, December 28th, 1964

Ashes to Ashes

Plagued by poltergeists?! Agitated by apparitions?! Spooked by spirits?!

Is your home or office haunted by the ghosts of the dearly departed? Unexplainable phenomenon, sudden chills, objects moving, soft murmurings, or horrifying nightmarish visions? Abandoning your home and starting anew is expensive. What you need to do is give Catherine Gibbs a call at 212-867-5309. That's Catherine Gibbs, New York City's first and only certified Spectral Detective!

"I promise to bring you, and your loved ones, the peace of mind, body, and soul you all so desperately deserve."

---

The site of our next case was a quiet, quaint little church. It was a sharp contrast from the bright lights and the hustle and bustle of Times Square, which made it all the more surprising it was a mere two blocks away. From where I stood, I could still see the bright lights, and even managed to spot the pharmaceutical company my partner and his family owned, Infinite Solutions.

We entered the church at the agreed upon time, 5PM. Despite the dim candlelight of the church, it was still brighter than the cold, late December night skies outside. Upon our arrival, we were greeted by a rather charming young maiden. She wore an all black robe, with a simple crucifix hanging from her neck. Her hair remained hidden under a nun's habit. She had an air of maturity that her young face betrayed. If I had to venture a guess, I'd say she was most likely about 19 years old, the same age as my partner's younger sister, Lauren.

I took a step forward, presenting a gloved leather hand. Realizing how rude it was, I quickly removing my right glove and placed it into my pocket. I smiled nervously as I presented my hand. "Catherine Gibbs." It was our first 'official' case as a team, and I wanted to make the perfect first impression.

She took my hand weakly, a timid smile on her pale face. Her handshake was like a fish: limp, cold and clammy. "Sister Marie Johanson," she stated weakly.

A casual smirk spread itself upon my associate's face. "Name’s Lucas Prescott. Call me Luke." He bowed and kissed the young woman's hand, causing her already pale visage to whiten more so. I stepped in, preventing any further show of affection.

"We're not here to make friends, Luke," I began. He sheepishly looked away, no doubt sensing from my tone of voice that I was serious.

A sigh from my partner. "Right right. We're here to catch ghosts." A notable lack of enthusiasm in his voice.

“We're here to help ghosts, not catch them. Help them settle unfinished business, and move on to the world after this one."

Despite my words, I could tell from the palor of Sister Johanson's face that she remained cautious and unsure about our qualifications. "Don't mind him." I spoke with[ a gentle and reassuring smile, or at least that's what I hoped for. "He's new to the whole 'Spectral Detective' business. Right, Luke?"

Luke gave me a look, "Whatever," before turning his attention to admiring the items laid about near the altar. He picked up a Bible, casually peering through it while flipping to random pages. "The lady doesn't need to know how long I've been doing this. Can we just get things moving along?"

I returned my attention to our client as I unbuckled my long coat. It was warmer in the church than I had anticipated.

"The reason human sentiments linger on in this world is due to past regrets. We help ghosts discover and get over the things that they regret, their 'unfinished business,' so to speak. However, it's rarely ever as simple as that. His sister-" I motioned towards Luke. "-didn't tell us much before we came. She only told us that this church of hers desperately needed our help. Can you tell us anything more?"

Sister Johanson nodded weakly before speaking. "On Christmas morning, the priest of our church, Father McCrimmon was hit by a bus... and... and...." She looked pained, on the verge of tears, but I tried to appear sympathetic offering a gentle nod and a reassuring smile when needed. After all, if she broke down we'd have no lead on this case. "Ever since that day, the visitors of the church claimed to have heard his voice and seen... seen a figure - a ghost. The robes, the bald head, the wispy beard. They claim his spirit still haunts our church but I am... not so sure."

“Not sure?” Luke began, taking his eyes off whatever random thing he was looking through in the Bible. "How come?"

She turned away from Luke before speaking to me. “He was loyal to the church. He preached every Sunday, performed the Sacrament of Penance every day." I gave her a bit of a confused look, not a particularly religious person. She seemed to pick up on my confusion and elaborated. "The confessions. He ran the confessions. He also conducted the choir every evening, and gave the homeless a hearth every night. Even in his old age, he seemed full of life. If... if there was one word I would use to describe him... it certainly wouldn't be 'regretful,' certainly not someone who had any unfinished business."

I produced a notepad and pencil from my coat pocket. Needing a firmer grip on my pencil, I quickly removed the last remaining glove and quickly jotted down what I had heard. Then I asked, "Was there anything unusual about him days or even weeks before his death?"

The nun scratched her cheek as she spoke. "Come to think of it...." The words were drawn out, as though she had given them an intense amount of thought. "The day before his death, he seemed unusually nervous after a confession."

I raised a brow. Out of the corner of my eye I watched as Luke looked up from the Bible he was not-reading. "That sounds like a promising lead."

"He probably heard something unsettling. Like a murder or something."

"Our best bet to move forward would be to summon the ghost of Father McCrimmon himself, and question the motives behind his haunting," I stated bluntly.

A curious yet skeptical look appeared on the nun's face. "Uhh... how exactly does one communicate with ghosts? Is there something I can help with, perhaps by lighting a candle or saying a prayer or-"

"His ghost haunts the church, correct? Ghosts are still people too, after all. Perhaps they're no longer living, or their senses may not be as sharp as ever, but their consciousness remains. To gather a ghost's consciousness for a brief moment and summon it into a more recognizable form, all you need to do is state its name and a request that you wish to speak to it."

"It'd be easier to just do it then to explain." Luke insisted, closing the Bible and preparing.

We pointed dramatically at the pulpit of the church at the end of the pews.

"Father Timothy McCrimmon! We humbly request an audience!"

(Word Count: 1180)

Dust to Dust

Sister Johanson raised a skeptical eyebrow at us after our rather flashy display. But before she could question our methods further, a cold air flooded the church. It was as though someone had suddenly blasted the doors open. I quickly turned to make sure they were indeed closed before turning back to the head of the church. The wind picked up as the candles laid about the church were blown out. I began to button up my trench coat, and looked ahead at the pulpit. Near the altar, I saw the vision of a figure. He was transparent, as though he nothing more then a flickering projection. The figure stood at the other side of the pews and most of his features seemed distorted. From the look on Sister Marie's face, it was evident she recognized him.

"F-Father McCrimmon!" she shouted in surprise, holding a hand over her mouth.

"Timothy McCrimmon!" My partner said accusingly. "Why are you still hanging around in the world of the living?"

I blinked, pushing slightly past him. "Father Timothy McCrimmon. You were a loyal man of the cloth, working to serve the community and help people at their darkest hour. If you're worried about how the church will handle itself without you, I ask you to cast aside your doubt! Sister Marie Johanson is more then capable of-"

As I spoke, I turned my attention to her, cowering in fear behind a pew. My palm quickly rushed to meet my face in exasperation (I just don't find facepalming to be a natural reaction to anything. Maybe it's just me.). "Sister Johanson?! Just what do you think you are doing?"

The ghostly specter at last spoke, rather quiet and slightly distorted. "I am not... do not... not ready..." A pained sound to his voice He said in a pained voice, as though it took the greatest of effort and concentration to admit this. I wouldn't doubt it did.

Sister Marie took a step forward, finding some courage, and spoke. "F-Father McCrimmon, you lived a long and fulfilling life. Though your passing 3 days ago was quite tragic, you shouldn't feel the need to stay in this world on my behalf."

"N-not your... my own... regrets..."

It seemed I was mistaken. He wasn't here for Marie's sake, but rather his own misgivings. "Well then Father McCrimmon, why do you continue to linger to this world?"

"Something... I must say... but I can not."

I was unsure of what it is he meant, before remembering Sister Johansen's word. He was alarmed after a confession. Though I myself wasn't particularly fond of organized religion, I knew enough to know the words heard at a confession were not to be repeated. I questioned. "Something you heard during a confession?" What looked like a faint nod from our stranger merely verified my guess.

The situation was rather paradoxical. It appeared his unfinished business was to tell us something but, by the rules of his own religion, he was forbidden from letting us know.

"If only he could give us a hint..." Luke began.

That was it. I snapped my fingers at Luke's response. "Brilliant, Luke."

"Brilliant? Me?" A smirk appeared upon his face as he adjusted his tie. "Well, glad you finally started to notice."

"Father McCrimmon! Your unfinished business was that you could not tell anyone what you heard in a confession, correct? As you can not tell us what it was directly, how about you leave us a sign, a hint? You're spirit should find comfort in at least that much, and you can guide us along the way if we're getting close."

The priest gave a pained look before speaking. "Hebrew... twelve... twenty... nine."

I scribbled the phrase down onto my notepad. "Hebrew 12:29." Not so familiar with the Bible, I turned towards our resident expert, Sister Johanson. "What's that one about?"

Sister Johanson looked rather perplexed. "It's.. not a very common passage. I'd have to look it up-"

"Already on it," Luke replied. I saw him flip through the pages sporadically before slowing his pace and then turning them one by one. It seemed he found the passage. Unfortunately, his face seemed not to help much. "For our God is a consuming fire."

There was a bit of a silence among the church, as the three of us seemed to think it over, with McCrimmon overseeing our proceedings. Finally, Luke broke the silence. "I don't get it."

"Well... now..." I elongated my words, hoping they would buy me time but alas when I finished my sentence I didn't think of anything.

"I'm afraid I don't understand either Misses Gibbs."

"Miss." I corrected. "And... I gotta admit I'm a bit stumped myself. Maybe it was some kind of warning?"

"A warning? Like... something was gonna catch on fire?" Luke put the Bible down and looked up towards McCrimmon. He responded with the faintest of nods, confirming Luke's suspicions.

"Maybe the previous line or the line afterward would give us a hint?" Sister Johanson declared optimistically.

"Doubtful." I began. "If he wanted to include the previous lines he'd have mentioned them too, wouldn't he?"

"Besides, there are no other lines after the bit with the 'consuming fire'."

A disappointed look spread itself on Sister Johanson's face.

"Maybe..." Luke started. "Maybe there was a double meaning here. Maybe he meant 12:29 like... a date or something?"

"December 29th?" I scratched my cheek. "That would be... tomorrow."

"So... something will be on fire tomorrow? Do you think maybe that's what his confession was about? An arsonist?"

It seemed at Sister Johansen's last words, the faintest of smiles finally spread on the old man's face. After we finally reached the conclusion he had been guiding us towards, a bright light emanated from the ghost of the priest. His details were more outlined then they ever were before. And at last, a few final words for Sister Johansen "Thank... you," before he faded away into nothingness. The rush of cold air dissipated, and the flickering candles once again re-lit themselves.

"Marie, do you at least remember what the guy looked like?" I thought it quite rude of Luke to address the nun by her first name but she seemed to think little of it, as she responded.

"Actually, when he walked in, I had a feeling I had seen him somewhere before." She scratched her head uneasily. "I just... can't quite put my finger on where. I'm sure if I saw him again, I'm sure I would be able to identify him."

"Well, in any case, it seems you must get into contact with police, and soon ma'am." I began. "You know more about this future arsonist then either Luke or myself."

She however remained unsure. "In any case, at least we helped Father McCrimmon solve his unfinished business."

Luke nodded in agreement before adjusting his hat. It was only at that moment that I noticed he was still wearing one indoors. I scowled as I looked him over. "Don't worry about it Marie." Luke said, slinking his arm around the off-put nun. He walked her over to door, pushing it open. "I know plenty of people from the police. I'll make sure they-"

He stopped, mid-sentence. Unusual for the typically chatty Luke to be so quiet. I turned to look. "Something the matter?"

A building, a block or so away on Times Square was up in flames. The billowing smoke took up the entire skyline. My eyes widened as I struggled to remember where I had seen that building before. The approaching siren of a fire truck broke me from my trance.

"Infinite Solutions?"

Word Count: 1287

Word Count: 2467

Edited by Hatcher, 05 April 2012 - 03:28 PM.

[Angel Lever]

PikaPerson01's obvious alt account here to present chapter 2:

RC - 4GWDR: Wednesday, February 10th, 1965

Blue Bloods

I had never in my life seen such an elegant and ornate home, much less stepped into one as amazing as this one. I stood, mouth agape at the intricacies of the opening hallway: the marble tiled floor; the rows and rows of priceless artwork stretching about the walls; the high vaulted ceiling, with elaborate designs upon the roof line; the beautiful painted ceiling and the elaborate chandeliers far above the spectator's heads.

"Luke Prescott! It's been far too long!" The unfamiliar voice, despite being directed at my partner, snapped me out of my awe-inspired stupor. I looked up to see Luke being greeted by a rather chubby young male. If I had to venture a guess, I'd say he was about Luke's age, perhaps a year or two younger by the lack of facial hair or stubble. Luke seemed amicable enough to the boisterous young man, presenting a handshake when prompted.

"And this must be the lucky Mrs. Prescott!" The man approached me, a silly grin on his face as he leaned in for a kiss on the cheek. I took a step back, raising an open palm to rebuke his offer and giving an incredulous look.

"Catherine Gibbs," Luke corrected with a quick gesture my way. "There is no Mrs. Prescott, except for my mom, I guess."

After that silly little misunderstanding had been cleared, I presented my right hand, concealed behind a black leather glove, expecting a handshake. To my surprise, the other man took my hand, bowing, and promptly kissed. I quickly pulled my hand away, thankful it was still wrapped in a glove.

"Harold Coelestis." He stated; a smirk on his face before turning to Luke. "And am I safe to assume the lady is single?"

"The lady is in the same room as you." I highlighted, an annoyed tone to my voice.

Harold gave me a look, before dropping the subject and going back to Luke. "Anyway, mother and I have been living quite a hard life since father died."

I looked back over the fancy artwork and beautifully opulent opening hallway. "Yeah, it sure looks like a real hard life." My entire apartment was smaller and more poorly furnished than his front hallway.

Ignoring me, Harold put his arm on my associates back, leading him down the hall and towards the living area. I stayed back in the hallway, looking over at the nearby paintings, while Harold and Luke went into the center of the living area. Not particularly because I was enraptured by the artwork, but I wasn't particularly a fan of this Harold Coelestis fellow.

"To top off the financial strain-"

I cleared my throat.

"There's been a kind of... weirdness around the house."

It seemed Harold had finally gotten to the matter at hand. "Weirdness? What do you mean?" Luke questioned

"We've all heard your commercial on the radio Luke. 'Unexplainable phenomenons', 'objects moving', 'horrifying nightmarish visions', that kind of stuff." A quick chuckle from Harold, as though living with a vengeful spirit was the funniest thing he'd ever heard.

A pensive look upon Luke's face, as he thought the circumstances over before speaking. "Sounds like a ghost if I ever heard one."

As I stood watching them from the doorway, I felt a blast of cold air, followed by the unmistakable smell of smoke, and burning sulfur. I bundled up my light pea coat, quickly turning towards the entrance.

"And who might you be young lady?" An unfamiliar woman stood at the far end of the hall. She wore a beautiful mink coat, her blonde hair was done up, similar in style to the beautiful Miss Audrey Hepburn from Breakfast at Tiffany's. To complete the look of a Hollywood starlet, she wore a pearl necklace, and a pair of large diamond earrings. Her pale blue eyes were hidden behind a pair of dark sunglasses. In her right hand rested a lit cigarette.

"Oh mom, that's Cathy, Luke's maid or cousin or something."

"Catherine." More annoyed that he got my name incorrect as opposed to my relationship to Luke.

Apparently the woman was Mrs. Coelestis, mother to Harold Coelestis. Perhaps it wasn't too late to get off on the right foot with her. "Pleased to meet you ma'am." As she was quite far away from me, I gave her a quick salute and a smile. Seeing as her eyes were hidden behind her sunglasses, I could not tell whether or not she appreciated the gesture. "Lucy Coelestis." she muttered nonchalantly before taking another puff from her cigarette.

Harold walked past me, towards his mother and began speaking, rather inaudibly.

Taking this opportunity, I decided to have a private chat of my own, with Luke. I walked into the living room and towards my companion.

"Luke, Is this guy really your friend?" I whispered, though considering the distance of the hallway it was largely an unneeded effort, as they would be unlikely to hear us.

"I never said he was my friend. Merely that he was a friend." His response left me confused, as Luke could tell by the expression I made. He quickly explained himself. "A friend of the Prescott family. His dad and my dad played golf and smoked cigars together all the time. Mrs. Coelestis and my mom play bridge every Wednesday." A pained look as he turned away and mumbled the next part. "Lauren and he were supposed to be married... before the Times Square arson..."

I looked him over but figured nothing more needed to be said. Fortunately, Mrs. Coelestis spoke up to break the awkward silence.

"Well my son's explained the details, so I suppose my we will leave you to your work. We'll be back at about three." She and her son turned and took a few steps before I called out to them.

"Wait!" She turned, lowering her sunglasses and looking me in the eyes with her own pair of blue irises. Harold meanwhile continued onward, past his mother and outside.

As I found yelling back and forth rather rude, and was sure she'd agree, I walked towards the entrance of the house. Standing there, I spotted Harold taking a seat at the driver's seat of a rather luxirous 1964 Rolls Royce. I quickly put the brief bit of being awe-stricken by the sight of the car out of mind before going back to the woman.

"Harold informs us that he believes the house is haunted. Any information you can provide would be most helpful - location of haunting, recent deaths, that sort of thing."

"Such a shame," she said. "Not only are you ugly, but you're also a poor listener." It took all my willpower not to punch the old broad in the face.

She took a puff of her cigarette before beginning. "Two years ago, my darling husband, Richard Coelestis was diagnosed with lung cancer."

My eyes flickered to the cigarette she held in her hand, but I didn't say anything - just a smirk.

"He fought a good fight, and managed to make it until the middle of December, before passing quietly in his sleep." A wistful look about her, as she removed her glasses for a second, before putting them back on quickly. "About a month or two had passed before the maids and butlers began complaining of eerie presences. Seeing small items move, blood draping the mirrors, hearing doors suddenly slamming and opening, and a feeling of coldness wrapping around them. One by one, they all quit until only my son and I remain. If it's a ghost, it's most definitely my Richard." She nodded, taking another puff of her cigarette. "Now then, I simply must be off. If you have any more questions, please keep them until I get back."

Luke had listened to our conversation from the doorway before stepping forward. "But wait! We're still unsure about your husband's unfinished-" but before he could finish asking, she was inside the car. The engine revved loudly before speeding away.

"Calm yourself Luke." I crossed my hands over my chest before looking to my partner. "Her story, while boldly uninteresting, has only helped in sinking our only lead. The ghost haunting this manor can not possibly be one belonging to Richard Coelestis."

(Word Count: 1382)

Irreparably

Luke and I stepped into Coelestis manor before I shut the door behind us. He would mostly certainly needed an explanation for my latest deduction.

"If everyone became a ghost after their death, don't you think this world would quickly become a rather cluttered and frightening place?"

Luke looked at me as though I were a madwoman, but I once again began speaking. "Being dead is not the only qualification to becoming a ghost. A few other issues... the person in question, and the circumstances of death." I looked at my partner, and he seemed genuinely intrigued.

"Ghosts exist due to a desire to complete their unfinished business. Their drive and ambition has to be strong though. If you only once, in passing, thought to yourself you wanted to be a baseball player, you won't spring back from the dead just because you never got to play at Polo Grounds.”

I cleared my throat. “The second deciding factor is the death has to be quite... sudden and unexpected. Murder victims, accidental deaths, those are the kinds most likely to haunt places."

Reaching the end of the hallway, I stopped walking, yet continued talking. "Now tell me Luke, a man diagnosed with a life threatening disease and living for a year or two extra. A man who passed "quietly in his sleep", does that sound like a vengeful spirit with unfinished business?"

"So if Richard Coelestis isn't the ghost, then who is?"

A polite smile spread itself on my face, contrasting the look of concern on my partner's. "That, my dear Lucas-"

"Luke."

"Is precisely what Mrs. Coelestis and her son are paying us to find out."

A less then satisfied expression etched itself on Luke's face, not content with my answer. "If we want it figured out, we'll have to do some investigating. We'll be able to cover more ground if we split up. Meet back in the living room in one half hour. Yell if you come across any trouble."

He seemed dumbfounded as I entered a western hallway. I casually tossed a hand through my long dark brown hair before calling out to him. "Come on now. The only place progress comes before work is in the dictionary."

We combed through the expansive mansion with the half hour I gave us but barely made any headway. Due to the fact I had underestimated the sheer size and scope of the manor, I was only able to give most rooms a quick, cursory glance, finding out very little in the process overall.

Returning to meet Luke, I found a similar summary on his end. We both mentioned an overall uneasy feeling, of being watched and hearing faint sounds nearby, heavy breathing, and low growls as we walked the area, but no nightmarish visions or anything on the level of what was described.

Perhaps because we had been chasing ghosts for so long, we had grown accustomed to an overall feeling of dread at every corner, but nothing jumped out at Luke and I as any clues to pinpoint a ghost's name or location.

"Well there was... something." Luke began.

I turned to my partner, intrigued. "Really? Such as...?"

A rather distant look on Luke's face, he placed his right hand on the back of his neck, attempting to look away from me. "It wasn't much... but I got a kind of... weird vibe from the old man's office."

"Weird vibe. Not so strange. I've been getting weird vibes about this place the moment I walked in."

"It felt..." he struggled to find the word, "...familiar. I also think I heard a voice say my name."

I raised a brow, but nevertheless this sounded like an interesting clue. "Well, you know the place better then I do. Take the lead."

Each of his steps held a note of trepidation, as though he greatly disliked the thought of returning. I attempted not to pry, as the answers would likely be revealed once we got there. However, I wasn't quite prepared for the vision of horror I saw before me when I first walked in to the man's study.

Following Luke, I was taken aback as we at last entered the office. Greeting me was a frightening painting of what appeared to be an angel, however drenched in a piercing red hue.

"Wh-what on earth?" I began. The striking tones of red upon the painting' the stab-like strokes of of the artist; it seemed as though it may have once been a beautiful painting, but at the last second, someone had foolishly decided to splash red paint over it.

"Everyone's a critic." Luke smirked. "What do you know about art?" as though challenging my knowledge of the subject.

I scoffed, crossing my hands across my chest. "You don't need to be a world renowned artist to know when a painting is awful, just like you don't need to be a 5 star chef in order to know what you're being fed manure."

Luke softly approached the painting. "You know, even though I said I heard my name being called... at the time I thought it was just you calling for attention."

"So it was a female's voice you heard?"

Luke seemed pained, as though hiding something. "I'm not sure. I think I heard a voice and since we were the only two here, I just naturally assumed it was you."

A deflated sigh from me, but I figured if it was important enough, Luke would not hide it. I too turned my attention to the painting.

"This would have been a really lovely painting, if not for the bright red all over it." I rubbed my chin, thoughtfully.

"I don't remember it always looking like this when I was a kid." Luke pressed his hand up to the painting before I could smack it away. "Oh... it's just framed."

He knocked on it twice- the hollow sound of glass rang within the office. Apparently, someone had placed the painting in a frame, and placed a covering over the painting made of a rose tinted glass, most likely to preserve freshness or something. Who could tell the eccentricities of the rich?

I surveyed the remainder of the room, it was largely empty. I couldn't particularly blame them wanting to get rid of the items that had reminded them of the deceased head of the household. All that remained in the study was his desk, mostly empty except for a handful of pens, a mostly empty bookshelf, and the aforementioned painting. There seemed to be signs the offices was furnished much better, small discolorations indicating statues or other paintings. In any case, it all seemed unimportant, for now at least.

While I was caught within my own thoughts, I spotted Luke foolishly reached upwards through my peripheral vision, taking the painting off its hook.

"Wh-what the devil are you doing!?" I exclaimed.

"Woah!" My sudden outburst seemed to startle my partner. In one sudden movement, the painting, frame and all, fell from his hand. The notable sound of glass breaking echoed the empty east wing of Coelestis Manor.

An astonished look of disbelief felt like it was etched upon my mouth. His latest act had left me utter speechless.

"Oh great. You just had to yell, didn't you Cathy?" He stooped down, to begin sweeping up the glass bits. Notably, he used his bare hands.

I almost tried to stop him, before remembering that a slight stinging from a broken glass shard would be a proper reminder and punishment enough of why not to behave so recklessly impulsive. Sure enough, I heard a gasp from him seconds into it.

"Cut your hand?" I inquired, feigning interest, though not doing a particularly good job of it.

"No. I found... some kind of paper."

A document folded lengthwise, then folded again so it was only a quarter of its size. Unfurling it, I looked it over. "It... seems to be Mr. Richard Coelestis's will."

(Word Count: 1332)

The Highest Bidder

And lastly, to the only one who remained loyal to me throughout my entire ordeal. When my entire family abandoned me, he was the only one who stayed behind, staying up all night as I slowly rotted away. To the best friend any man could ever ask for. To my dear Rex Coelestis, I leave my vast fortune and entire estate.

---

A blank stare on Luke's face was all the information I needed. "So, I take it you don't know who Mr. Rex Coelestis is?"

"Not a clue." Luke seemed puzzled, scratching his chin. "Old Man Coelestis never mentioned a son - at least, not one other then Harold. And even then he avoided mentioning him most of the time."

I thought it all over. "Maybe Rex Coelestis was his secret grandson?"

Luke, who had up until then been reading over the letter slowly turned his head to me. "What do you mean?"

"Well you mentioned hearing a woman's voice. Perhaps you mistook the higher pitch of a young boy's voice for that of a woman?"

As though he already knew what my answer was, he spoke with hesitation in his voice. "So then, who would be his secret grandson?"

"Well, we know Lauren kept her relationship with Harold a secret from us until after she died at the Infinite Solutions building. Maybe she somehow managed to keep other secrets from-"

"No way!" Though Luke often interrupted, this time he was very notably upset. "Laurie and I used to share everything growing up! There's just no way she could have had a secret kid! Plus, she died when she was seventeen! Seventeen, Cathy! Even if she somehow, got married, got pregnant, and everything else without me, any kid her and Harold couldn't possibly be old enough speak or to inherit something!"

"Alright! Alright! Sorry I brought it up." I looked at him, speaking with a bit more tenderness. "Honestly... I'm really sorry."

He nodded looking away, and the subject was dropped.

After our little tiff, I noted a sound I hadn't heard earlier. Not to mention, a returning feeling of dread. I turned to Luke, who was looking about as though all his sense had been put onto overdrive. "You sense it too, Luke?" I queried. A quick nod of his head.

"I think this mystery is just about wrapped up." I continued. "Whoever this Rex Coelestis character was, he inherited everything out from under Harold and his mother. They couldn't quite have that now could they?"

A low, yet unmistakable sound of growling...,

"Having Rex get away with all their money, it would mean the end of their lives. And they couldn't allow him to get away with that. So they had to end his, instead."

"You don't mean-"

"I'm afraid I do, and there's just one way to prove it." I took a dramatic stance. "Rex Coelestis! We humbly request an audience!"

The low growling at last stopped; an inquisitive sound from our ghostly visitor. I looked about, still not seeing the man.

"W-well? Where is he?"

It seemed Luke was the first to find our poltergeist. "R-rex?" He called out. I looked towards where he spoke.

One and a half feet tall, long snout, blank vacant eyes, yet a wagging tail. The creature stood on all four legs, a dopey grin as it spotted Luke.

"Rex Coelestis is... a dog!?" I protested. At the sound of its name, the dog ghost barked.

I felt rather faint. I had been expecting some young man: but to think Mr. Coelestis would leave everything in his will to some canine? I truly had no words for the eccentricities of the rich.

Luke however, seemed to take to the ghost rather quickly. He found what looked like a capped pen from off the desk and pretended to throw it. The ghost gave chase, but seemed bewildered as the pen was nowhere to be found, hidden in Luke's jacket pocket. Soon enough, it came back empty handed, or empty pawed as the case may be. It gave a high pitched sad noise.

"It's so cute! Can we keep him Cathy?"

"I... what..." I was at a loss for words. At last, I decided to stick to my convictions. "N-nevertheless... I don't think I'm incorrect here. Surely, the Coelestis family must have felt betrayed when the patriarch of the family left all their possessions to the family dog."

Luke reached over to pet the dog on the head, but it seemed his hand went through the pooch. A sad expression was shared between the pair.

"They may not be guilty of murdering a human, but the Coelestis family most certainly murdered their dog!"

"Excuse me. Who most certainly murdered their dog!?" The familiar scent of cigarette smoke filled my nostrils. I turned around to spot Mrs. Coelestis and her son Harold, with bags in tow.

I explained to them all we had learned from our investigation: the will behind the painting, how Mr. Coelestis had left all his money to Rex, and our discovery of the dog's ghost.

"So, you broke our painting's frame?" Mrs. Coelestis seemed notably annoyed.

"All the evidence points to you and your son viciously murdering your own dog to collect its money!"

"It was custom built." she responded, curtly. She ground up her cigarette into a nearby empty ashtray.

"I think you may be barking up the wrong tree here Cathy, So to speak." Luke motioned to the dog, who was happily wagging its tail at the sight of Harold and his mother. "I mean, would you look that pleased if you just spotted your murderers?"

"It's Catherine. And I guess..." I thought about it as quickly as I could. All signs pointed to the Coelestis family cashing in on their dog's death. Yet here was our star witness, and he seemed absolutely jubilant upon seeing them. If someone were murdered, I'd imagine they'd be consumed with ideas of revenge as their unfinished business.

"That is enough, Ms. Gibbs." She crossed her hands across her ample chest before reaching into her purse and producing another cigarette. "We hired you and your boyfriend to help us find the ghost haunting or humble home, and it seems you had. However, as far as breaking our framed painting, and accusing us of murder, that will simply not stand."

She picked up the painting, by its broken frame, before handing it off to her son. My eyes however jumped to the dog. Its ears picked up at this movement, and it made a rather... inquisitive noise, for a dog at least.

“Looks like we'll have to get our frame fixed.” For some peculiar notion, the pair seemed fixated on the portrait and broken frame, completely disinterested in seeing the ghostly apparition of their dog before them.

"Indeed. Harold, take this painting away-" she was cut off by the barking and excited panting of the dog, before it broke out into something I could only describe as a smile. Its tail wagged ferociously as it began to glow. Before either Luke or myself could figure it out, the light show was over, and the dog was nowhere to be found.

I looked about the room. Harold, Luke, Mrs. Coelestis, all eyes were on me to explain what had just occurred. I had seen it about half a dozen times before, but I had no idea as to the exact reasons it had happened this time.

"Well then, it seems... whatever Rex Coelestis's unfinished business was, it has been resolved? " I spoke with a hint of uncertainty, and it seemed the rest of the group remained skeptical as well.

Luke and I were never paid for our services at the Coelestis Manor. In fact, we ended up handing over a check, as they claimed their framed portrait was worth much more then what our initial rate was. Had I know the significance of that particular painting, I'd have likely burned the damn thing myself. As for Rex Coelestis and his unfinished business, we would not find out the full significance of the dog's role in all of this until about January of the next year.

(Word Count: 1375)

(Word Count: 4089)

[Hatcher]

Back from the dead to bring you chapter 3:

MF - B47: Friday, August 27th, 1965

Surface Tension

As time went on, Luke and I began to spend more and more time together, enjoying each other's company away from cemeteries, abandoned stores, and haunted houses. Our cases had taken us to the most unlikeliest of places in New York City, and through it all naturally our relationship had grown.

Though Luke wasn't the cleverest or most attentive person in the world, he tried his hardest, and was always full of surprises. One of his outburst at the end of an earlier case however seemed a bit to over the top even for him. I had initially refused as knee jerk reaction however he eventually managed to wear me down over time.

Despite his terms, I reluctantly agreed to them. We planned our first date for the end of summer.

However fate had other plans.

We had gotten the call at the last minute. Just as I was about to close the door and lock up the office, the phone rang. Luke urged me not to pick up, but I knew I had a civic duty to perform.

We abandoned our plan for Central Park, instead heading over to Coney Island. In such a rush we hadn't even had time to change. Sure, Luke always looked mostly the same: a dress shirt, a pair of trousers, a tie, and a cotton soft cap however in contrast, I felt notably under-dressed and unprofessional: a cotton pink shirtwaist dress with a narrow collar. Normally, it was a long sleeve dress, however I had rolled them up to about elbow level and pinned them with a safety pin. Upon my hands was a small pair of dainty pink cotton gloves. My hair was let down, with a single matching pink bow on the right side of my head to complete the unprofessional look. My notes on the case and notepad were tucked away in a matching purse.

"Twelfth Street and Surf Avenue." I reminded, as we disembarked the train. I walked hurriedly towards the boardwalk

"Cathy, can't we take a single day off being a ghost hunter?"

"Spectral Detective." I corrected. "And when people are in need of my expertise, I'm obliged to help them."

Luke seemed less than satisfied with my response. "I'll make it up to you later." A reassuring tone to my voice, but by the look on his face I could tell he was skeptical.

We showed up at the agreed upon address, 12-08 and Surf Avenue. However, the building wasn't quite what I expected...

"It's a... freak show?" Luke remarked, taken aback almost as much as I was.

The location specified was a two story building. Carnival music, fast tempo and upbeat, was playing from a nearby phonograph.

A man stood behind a table, and judging from his attire: a top hat, a bow tie, a dress shirt, vest, and striped pants. I could tell he was the barker of the establishment. "Hurry hurry hurry! Step right up to the genuine, one and only freakshow on Coney Island, the Sideshow by the Seashore, the-"

"Ahem-" I began, taking a step forward. His voice was definitely the one I heard over the phone. "Catherine Gibbs." I pointed to myself, then my partner. "Lucas Prescott."

"Ah, you two are the detectives we phoned earlier."

I nodded.

He turned around, removing the needle from the phonograph. At the sudden record scratch, three more seemed to join in from the sidelines.

A young woman wearing a leotard and little else stepped forward. "Just dis mornin' we lost our little girl."

My eyes scanned the series of posters she had motioned towards. I read them all to my self. Bendy Wendy, the Amazing Rubber Girl, clearly our leotard clad woman. Crazy Ivan, the Human Block Head, a man dressed similar to Luke, though much older, and wearing suspenders. On his poster he was balancing on a unicycle while hammering a nail into his nose. Sergei the Strongman, a large bald man with a handlebar mustache dressed in some kind of Tarzan loincloth. Tom Tom, the Fire Breather, a shirtless, shoeless man wearing a turban, a pair of loose fitting pants and breathing fire. And lastly, Laminar, the Extra Small Spirit Medium a little girl, I'd say no older than 7, though admittedly I'm not all that great at guessing ages.

"She was... a spirit medium?" Luke questioned.

"Hmph. Laminar isn't a name. It's a word." I scoffed. Truth be told, I wasn't a fan of spirit mediums.

"Dah, is little tiny girl's stage name." it seemed the Sergei the strongman had heard what I said, not picking up on the tinge of annoyance in my voice. "Real name is Ilsa."

"Ilsa?" Luke began. "What about her last name?"

"Seriously Luke? You don't remember the case of Teresa Madison-Cronen? The Bludgeoned Bride?"

"I couldn't possibly forget. That's when you finally agreed to go out with-"

I could feel my face going red as I heard Luke speak. Sure, it was true I had at last accepted his invitation at that day, but it felt rather unprofessional to bring it up at this point. "Not just that! I mean... w-we had summoned her twice. The first time at the altar with her maiden name, and the second time at the bell tower with her married name."

Luke scratched his head. "Right, just any name that the spirit ever recognized as their own is okay, so just plain Laminar should be able to work."

Luke and I share a glance before we took a dramatic pause and calling out in unision. "Laminar! We humbly request an audience!"

And suddenly - nothing happened. No blast of cold air. No sudden darkness. Just Luke and I standing next to each other, with the blank expressions of the barker, the contortionist, the strong man, and the human blockhead looking at us like we were the ones on display at the freakshow.

"Uhh... what are youz guys doin'?" Bendy Wendy questioned.

I scratched my cheek, not quite sure why it hadn't worked. "We... were trying to summon the ghost of the spirit medium girl, Laminar?" It seemed like a peculiar question to me. Why else would summon request the help of a pair of spectral detectives.

"Laminar ain't dead." responded Bendy Wendy. "She's just missin'."

There was a bit of an awkward silence before Crazy Ivan exploded in laughter. I admit, I had to chuckle nervously, as I awkwardly tugged on my elbow and wiped the bangs from off my hair. Finally, the human blockhead settled down enough to speak. "We woke up this mornin' and found our little Laminar had gone missin'."

A serious look on Luke's face. "Did you call the police?"

"'Fraid not handsome. Youz guys were the first ones we called." Wendy responded.

Luke nodded. "Well, I'm personal friends with the head of the missing people's department." Luke produced his own notepad and quickly jotted down a phone number, handing it over. "Were there any signs of a kidnapping?"

"As far as we can tell she just up and left." replied Ivan.

"Did she leave a note? Why would she just wanna leave all this?" Luke seemed to try to gather more evidence, but that was the furthest thing from my mind right now.

"Little tiny girl miss father. She leave to go find. Is probable, yes?" I heard Sergei ask.

"Nah Sergei, ain't nothin' like that." Wendy replied. "Her old man got arrested, remember?"

All this talk about the lost missing girl was beginning to tire my patience however. "Honestly, this isn't the kind of work we do" I responded dismissively.

Everyone there, all the sideshow freaks and even Luke turned to me, a confused and mildly annoyed face to them.

I adjusted the bow in my hair before continuing. "Look, this a matter more for police or detectives-"

"But your flyer said you were detectives!" The barker produced a slightly torn flyer. Looking it over, it seemed the word 'Spectral' had been torn off.

"Come on Cathy! I thought when people needed you, you're obliged to help them."

I gave Luke a serious glare before turning to the freak show. "We are Spectral Detectives. We help ghosts find their way to the other side and help them resolve unfinished business. We don't go hunting for people. Our expertise is in the paranormal, not in missing people."

"But Cathy-"

"When the police find her body, then you can give us a call."

I walked over towards the boardwalk, annoyed that Luke and I had come all this way. I heard his voice, most likely trying to apologize to the group, but I didn't need him to apologize on my behalf. If that little medium girl is lost, I certainly wouldn't lose sleep over it.

(Word Count: 1473)

Significant Figure

Walking on the boardwalk, I managed to make it to the nearby amusement park, Astroland. "Perhaps there's still ample time to salvage this date after all." I quietly mused to myself as I calmly meandered about the gate. It took him about a minute, but Luke eventually managed to catch up.

"What's the big idea Cathy?"

"We're going on our date now. Just as you initially insisted."

He seemed confused, but quickly regained his composure. "Why are you acting like this? Like you suddenly don't care about helping people?"

"Come on Luke, think about it. They're missing a Spirit Medium? The only other profession that undercuts our business.

"But she's just trying to help-"

"No. WE'RE trying to help." I put my hands upon my hips, a notable tone of anger to my voice. "We risk our life and limb trying to help ghosts cross over to the other side, while spirit mediums profit on selling false hope, lies and telling their customers what they want to hear instead of telling them the truth. I have no respect for someone who can willingly exploit the grief of someone else for monetary gain. If that little medium is lost, I certainly won't be fussed over it."

Luke sighed. "You're right." Though I could tell he truly didn't mean it.

In an effort to quickly change the subject, I tugged at Luke's arm. "Come on Luke, I'm sure riding the Wonder Wheel will cheer you up." An encouraging smile stretched itself upon my face.

But my excitement was short lived. We spotted a tiny seven year old, dressed in a robe, wearing fancy jewelery, a veil, and some kind of small head bandana. No doubt the gypsy girl the freak show had been missing.

"Sorry toots. You must be at least 48 inches tall," a surly and rather heavyset man said to the girl. After he spoke, the girl looked as though she had just lost a fight, before snapping her fingers as though struck by inspiration. She stood on the tips of her toes, the top of her head just barely meeting a line close by.

He absentmindedly shrugged before responding with a quick "Go ahead." Luke however hurried his pace to reach the girl before she entered the ride.

"Umm, excuse me ma'am." She stopped and turned to Luke, a little bit of a jump as though she had just been startled. "You're that lost little Laminar girl from the freakshow, aren't you?"

"Who wants'ta know!?" She quickly shot back, and it seemed this time Luke was the one surprised by a sudden outburst.

As I looked around I could tell we were drawing a crowd. Perhaps this would work to our advantage. The girl wasn't in any present danger, and yet her co-workers had reported her missing. Clearly, she had merely left without them knowing, probably thinking herself on a secret mission. And if she wanted it to be kept a secret... clearly the quickest way to get her on our side would be blow her cover.

"Oh my goodness Luke!" I enthused as my eyes met with the girl. She appeared nervous and unsure as I approached. "It's the world famous extra small medium from the Sideshow by the Seashore!"

Luke raised a brow at my display, but seemed to quickly catch on. "Oh yeah! Let's get one of those guys with one of those new Polaroid Swingers to take us a picture!"

A crowd began to form after the commotion we had raised, and Laminar too seemed to realize what we were doing.

"Okay okay! I give up! I give up!" she muttered quietly. "What do you guys want?"

It seemed the girl was dead set against others finding out that she had left the premises. The crowd had mostly begun to disperse just as quickly as it had set up. In hindsight, it was more than likely a line trying to get on the Wonder Wheel than anything else.

Luke and pulled her away from the Ferris Wheel ride, before crouching down to get to eye level with the girl. "Laminar, we need you to go back home. Your friends and family are really worried about you." Luke extended a hand in support, however he was met with the girl calmly sticking out her tongue in defiance.

A deflated sigh from Luke as he stood up straight. "Will you at least tell us why you left?"

My back turned to the girl, I scoffed. "The little brat probably just wanted to ride the Ferris Wheel."

"I'm not a brat!" She stated quite incessantly. "You two wouldn't understand. It's... secret! Secret ghost stuff!"

I had to stifle a laughter at the little brat's words. "You honestly think we wouldn't understand 'ghost stuff'? Do you have any idea who you're speaking to?" A beat before I bent down and looked her in the eye.

"The name is Catherine Alyson Gibbs. My associate Lucas J. Prescott and I are the only two certified Spectral Detectives, paranormal hunters of spirits, in all of the five boroughs. We have a track record of about thirty or so cases solved this year alone, thirty lost humans souls with unfinished business recovered and resolved. So trust me when I say, we know far more about ghosts and spirits then you ever will."

"Your middle name is Alyson?"

"I'm trying to make a point here, Luke!"

Laminar's look of annoyance seemed to turn more to one of wonder, amazement as she looked up towards us.

"So you two know lots about ghosts then?"

"Of course! Cathy here knows more about ghosts than anyone else I know." Luke spoke with a certain pride in his voice.

I responded with a tinge of sarcasm. "I should hope so. Being a Spectral Detective isn't exactly something you can just go to school for."

Laminar looked at me with a tinge of indecision before turning to look. An encouraging nod from Luke seemed to spur her forward.

"The last few nights I had a dream. Like, it was always the same dream. Not like, a normal dream or something. It felt real. But like... not real? Like it was being controlled or guided by someone. I think it was a ghost that was controlling my dream at least. Anyway, I saw someone in my dream too. And she told me... she told me to go to the lighthouse. It was important I go alone too. But after I got out this morning... after I got out, I couldn't find it. So... I thought maybe if I got on the Wonder Wheel I'd be able to see higher up and see where the lighthouse was."

Luke scratched his head before speaking. "Norton's Point is the closest lighthouse here."

"So then you two will help me?" A hopeful sound to her voice, mixed with excitement.

"Of course we-" began Luke, before I interrupted.

"Remind me again why we should bother helping you out?" I spoke the little girl. She was a spirit medium, and I felt I had no obligation to help the brat out.

"Cathy, you're not helping her out. You're helping out a lost ghost. And Laminar's not doing it for monetary gain or something. She's trying to do the right thing."

Laminar gave me a weak nod and an expectant look.

I sighed reluctantly. Luke had made a good point. If I were trying to help the girl's money swindling business that might have been a problem, but as it seemed she was trying to assist a ghost, her heart did seem to be in the right place.

But was it truly a ghost? "I never heard of a ghost entering a person's dream." I thought aloud.

"Maybe they just don't want to enter your dreams?" Luke said with a quick chuckle.

I gave him an annoyed look before continuing. "If Laminar's dream is accurate, and ghosts can alter dreams, then this might be worth investigating... but I have doubts on whether or not that's the case."

"The quickest way to get to the bottom of this would be to check out the lighthouse, wouldn't it?"

"I suppose so."

(Word Count: 1367)

The Permeability of Free Space

Since Luke knew the way, it didn't take all that long for the three of us to make it to the lighthouse. Its keeper, a man by the name of Frank Schubert, seemed oddly suspicious of us but allowed us access to the lower section of the lighthouse.

As we arrived, there was a definite feeling of dread in the air, the telltale signs of a haunted location. While we may have gotten the location right, it was all useless without a name.

"Well Laminar? Is there anything more you can tell us about this ghost? Preferably a name."

A bit of a pause before she spoke. "Margaret." Laminar stated before adding. "Margaret Filler."

That was as much as Luke and I needed to get to the bottom of this. A dramatic twirl of my skirt and a more pronounced stance as Luke and I pointed skyward. "Margaret Filler! We humbly request an audience!"

The same familiar coldness in the air, the darkening of the inside of the lighthouse, despite the already low ambient light, and finally, an all white figure, transparent yet somehow emanating a degree of light herself. As I approached, I noticed she was clad in swimwear. Most likely, a young lady who died while swimming.

"Laminar, the Extra Small Medium." A sound of relief was evident in her voice, despite the distortion that death provides. "You've come at last to save me."

The girl, Margaret Filler appeared to be rather on the young side. I'd assume something around 12 or 13, right at the close of middle school but before the start of high school. As I looked over the spirit of the girl, then back to Laminar, a thought occurred.

"Laminar, just how do you know Miss Filler's name?"

"Well..." began the pint sized medium. "Her parents came to the Sideshow by the Seashore and they asked for my help. They said their daughter got drowned or something and they wanted to make sure she was okay. Then I had a dream, and she told me she wasn't okay, so I came here to make sure she was okay." She smiled politely. I however, couldn't help but scowl.

In the end, she wasn't concerned about helping the ghost girl in any way. Her thoughts were only about how the ghost would affect her. Other people seeing Margaret's ghost would just prove she were a fraud.

"So in the end, you just wanted help fixing a problem that you yourself caused?" I could tell from the dark haired girl's expression that she was thoroughly frightened by the tone of my voice.

Luke however seemed to pull me aside. "Come on Cathy. She's just a kid."

"Kid or not, she's still a spirit medium."

"But she's trying to do the right thing now, isn't she?"

"For all the wrong reasons."

"Is there... something the matter? The ghost of Margaret Filler asked.

The voice of the spirit reminded me that the three of us weren't quite alone. I sighed in frustration. On the one hand, I had made it my purpose to help ghosts in reaching the afterlife. On the other hand, helping out the spirit medium girl was a conflict of interests I could not just take lying down. A bit of thinking before I finally asked the ghost: "So then, what is your unfinished business?"

Margaret looked away, perhaps a slight shame to her request. "It's... not a very big thing. But I- this summer, I really wanted to face my fears and ride all the rides at Astroland. I did all of them... except the Cyclone - the roller coaster."

It was a quaint wish. Then again, they always seemed that way. Deliveries of flowers, teaching a son algebra, defeating someone's top pinball score.

"We'll be happy to help." Luke insisted. Laminar nodded. I however remained silent. There was a clear and obvious problem with Margaret's unfinished business.

"I'm not so sure it'll be easy. Remember, Margaret is a ghost. Her spirit is confined to the lighthouse, and the further a ghost is from the area they are tied to, the more their stability deteriorate. As soon as we lead her away from here, her vision will blur, her hearing will fail, and she'll just be an agitated, frustrated ghost who can't find their way back to the small sense of security they held before."

"There's gotta be something we can do though!" Laminar pleaded.

I gave it a quick thought, and came up with a brilliant solution that would not only solve our predicament but also benefit everyone except Laminar. A callous smirk spread itself upon my face as I began.

"Well, there is one thing we can do to help out our dear Margaret." I adjusted the bright pink bow in my hair before continuing. "The simplest way to allow her to leave the lighthouse unharmed would be if someone volunteered themselves to be her vessel." Adding an extra emphasis as my eyes turned to Laminar.

"Oh I get it..." Luke began.

"W-whatcha mean?" Laminar stammered nervously. Perhaps she could already tell this would be unpleasant.

"She wants Margaret to possess you, Laminar," Luke explained curtly.

"Wh-what!?" Laminar exclaimed. "Nuh-uh! N-no way!"

"Why not?" Luke asked.

"Uhh... she needs the Cyclone right! I'm much too short for that!"

"I'm sure they'll let you go on the ride if you stand on your tiptoes." I responded, still smiling.

"No! It's not fair!" Laminar continued protesting.

My cheery smirk turned to a more serious expression. "Laminar, leaving this girl with her business unfinished was your fault to begin with. Conning her parents into believing you were a true spirit medium was just icing on the cake. And now that you finally have the chance, not only to step up and right your wrongs, but to actually be a spirit medium for real, you back away? How disappointing." I wasn't truly disappointed, just eager to wrap up this case, and perhaps deal a fine bit of payback to someone in a rival business.

Laminar looked exceedingly guilty and shameful, avoiding eye contact and a distressed body position. "O-kay fiiine." Taking her time with the words. "I'll do it."

"Oh thank you Laminar! I knew you were the right person to reach out to!" The youth seemed notably excited at the prospect of having her unfinished business resolved. Her hovering ghost attempted to enter the spirit medium child, but she seemed to just float through. "Why isn't it working?

"A ghost needs to know the name of the person it's possessing." Luke explained, clearly recalling his training well. He turned to the girl. "So Laminar, what's your real name?"

Laminar smirked cheerfully for once. It seemed she thought herself holding all the cards, so to speak. We couldn't move anywhere without her volunteering her name. Unfortunately for Laminar, I paid quite a bit more attention to detail then Luke.

"Her name is Ilsa Eidenberg." I responded calmly. A panicked look spread on Laminar's face as a white light began to surround her, then quickly die down.

Laminar stood in place, though clearly not herself. Her dark brown eyes were replaced an unusual and almost unnatural white, pale pupil. There was an unnerving stillness in the air, and a distortion in her voice as she spoke.

"I'm ready."

(Word Count: 1235)

Dipole Moment

As we approached the wooden roller coaster - The Cyclone, there was a short line ahead of us. We were left with a bit of a wait before our turn on the ride came up. The three of us, Luke, myself, and Laminar's possessed body just stood about, an awkward silence before Luke interrupted with a question.

"Hey Margaret. Umm... Laminar?" He seemed perplexed, unsure of how to address the girl.

The girl however smiled sweetly. "It's both. We can both hear you right now."

"Ah, okay... LaMargeRoir?"

I gave a quick smirk at Luke being mildly flustered. However his next... choice of words were rather upsetting.

"What's it like to be dead?"

"Luke!" I interrupted quickly. "That is an incredibly offensive and-"

"It's okay Miss Cathy." the girl in Laminar's body interrupted. "You two are like, ghost hunters, right?"

"Spectral Detectives." Luke corrected, surprisingly. He then turned to me. "I know it's kind of rude to point out someone's dead and all, but it doesn't hurt to ask. Besides, getting to know more about ghosts will only help us out more in the long run, won't it?"

Luke had made a good point. I produced my notepad and a pencil before giving a quick nod. "Alright, you've convinced me. Tell us as much as you care to about what it's like to be a ghost."

The girl gave a nod before starting. "I don't know if it's the same for everyone, but my death felt a lot like the minutes before I died. It was like I was in an ocean, but I didn't need to breathe. It was hard to see anything but I felt like... a kind of force, pulling me towards the lighthouse. Eventually I managed to float towards the shore. I mean, I was still floating like I was before and it still felt like I was in the water, but I guess the fact I could see things clearer made it better."

"Are you saying you couldn't see things as clearly when you left the lighthouse?" I asked.

"Not only that, but things grew blurrier and darker when I tried to leave. Sounds grew stranger, quieter, more warped and distorted the further I got from the lighthouse. They somehow fixed themselves when I got back to the lighthouse."

I took careful notes on every word she said, before Luke responded with a question. "So how did you manage to enter Laminar's dream?"

The girl in Laminar's body looked down for a second. "It wasn't easy, that's for sure. I remembered passing by the Sideshow by the Seashore on the day I died. I wanted to visit and get my future told after I rid all the rides... but I guess I know my future now." The girl awkwardly shifted her weight, trying to look away. Luke put a hand on her shoulder. "I thought Laminar was the only one who could help me out, so I made up my mind and just kind of... stumbled blindly until I managed to find her. It was... scary." She seemed a tad bit distraught, however there was still one question I had to ask.

"What about now? You're rather far from the lighthouse here."

"Well I'm guessing because I have the girl's body here I also have access to her own senses. Seeing and hearing is easier overall, just... kind of weird. Vision is sharper then when I was a ghost, but less sharp then when I was alive. And also everything is in black and white."

I thought it over. Was it perhaps a defect of the girl, or just a defect to possessing people? However I didn't feel the need to pry more thoroughly, coupled with the fact that we had at last we had reached the front of the line. The girl looked slightly upset that she wasn't quite 48 inches tall yet, but I reminded her of Laminar's tiptoeing trick earlier and we were soon strapped into the roller coaster.

We sat and waited for the ride to begin, before Luke asked "By the way, what's up with the whole double voice thing?"

"Luke!"

"Well, you said my voice didn't sound like that when I was possessed by Colonel Angus, right?"

It had been rather peculiar, now that I had thought it all over. I scratched my head to think it over. "I suppose perhaps because you willingly allowed yourself to be possessed whereas Laminar seemed to resist..."

I blinked, it seemed the dark haired spirit medium brat was more reluctant to give up control than I had originally thought. In any case, we could not continue the questioning any longer, as the ride began

A thrilling rush as we endured the fast speeds and thrilling turns and sudden starts and stops. Tension mounting as the coaster reached the top of the first hill before accelerating to a dizzying speed. Laminar... Margaret... LaMargeroir?... laughed in excitement, cried out in terror, and felt a fluctuation of emotions most people don't experience in their whole lives. As we reached the final descent, she let out one final yell. The audible and ever present-double voice had at last dissipated to a single one. The glow in Laminar's eyes faded, returning to her normal shade of brown, and instead of looking like a girl having the time of her life, she began panicking, grasping at me to hold onto her. It seemed the spirit of Margaret Filler had at last been appeased, and we were given back the spirit medium young lady.

Getting off the ride, we decided to also usher the girl back home.

"You're a big dumb jerk Cathy!" Laminar protested. Legs still shaking in fear, Luke was forced to carry her to the freakshow.

"It's Catherine." I corrected. "And you Laminar, are a conniving little monster who sees no problem in profiting off the pain and suffering of others."

"Come on you two." A pleading tone to his voice as Luke tried to play the peacekeeper between the both of us. "Let's just take Laminar back home and call it a day."

As we approached the corner of 12th and Surf, the other sideshow freaks seemed overjoyed to have Laminar back. Laminar too seemed happy to see her extended family once again. Sergei picked her up and spun her around. Crazy Ivan exploded into a fit of raucous laughter. The Barker seemed to be organizing some kind of makeshift party. Wendy approached the both of us.

"Is there anywayz we can repay youz?"

"A good deed is its own reward." Luke stated simply.

"Though a reward would be nice." I began, but Luke lightly brushed his elbow against mine.

"We wouldn't want to overstay our welcome here, would we Cathy?" Luke began.

I nodded lightly. "I think there might still be some time to make it to Central Park before the sun sets."

One final send off from the group of sideshow freaks: a quick wave and a handshake from most of them; Laminar sticking her tongue out at me, before Luke and I began walking towards the train station.

As we walked, Luke began making minor small talk. "You know, it must have been difficult for you to help someone related to something you hated so much."

"Likewise." I responded curtly.

My words made Luke stop in his track. I stopped, turning to see him as well. "What do you mean?"

It was peculiar. Had he really not known this whole time? "Had you not stopped to wonder why I greatly disliked the girl?"

"Because she was a spirit medium?"

"Well not just that..." I began. "I mean, had you not stopped to consider how I knew the girl's full name?"

"Well, the sideshow freaks told us... I think."

"They told us only her first name." I corrected. "I read her last name in a newspaper a while back."

"A n-newspaper? What was it about?" It sounded like Luke was unsure if he wanted to hear the answer.

"Her father, Tom Tom the Fire Breather. Wendy told us he was arrested, however the crime he had committed was something quite severe. Murder."

"Murder? Fire Breather?" Luke didn't need long to put it together. A disappointed expression as he drew the same conclusion I had. "Her father was the Times Square Arsonist. The one who murdered my sister." A downtrodden look about him, as though he had just helped the devil himself. I leaned in and gave him a warm embrace for support.

"Come on, let's go home." I stated. He nodded weakly. It seemed our first date would once again be put on hold.

(Word Count: 1462)

(Word Count: 5537)

Edited by PikaPerson01, 08 December 2011 - 09:04 AM.

[Angel Lever]

We now return to Exposition Theater, also known as Chapter 4.

Edit: OH YEAH! This case is kind of a bit more violent/bloody/depressing then the rest. It's not all that graphic because I'm a bad writer but if you're really sensitive to that kind of stuff I'd advise you not read the fourth chapter. Well, not all of it. High Tide is pretty tame, and does have important, worthwhile exposition.

Basically... Insert PG-13 warning here?

LP - 1300MA: Friday, November 5th, 1965

High Tide

Earlier that week, I had learned that the Coelestis and Prescott family held a benefit for the employees of all the companies in the Prescott Group, including Infinite Solutions, down at Washington DC. Not only that, but they also frequently loaned out their priceless works of art to the Smithsonian Museum. Figuring they could 'kill two birds with one stone' so to speak, they traveled down by boat, with their priceless works of art in tow. Sure airlines and train cars existed, but this was the Prescott family's own personal yacht.

The yacht itself had about two... I suppose "floors", for lack of the correct nautical term. The upper deck area held the captains chambers, manned by Mr. Lawrence Prescott, and the 'living' area, decorated mildly like part living room and part dining hall. I presume there was also a kitchen somewhere otherwise where else would the food have come from, but I hadn't stumbled across it. From the living area one could travel the lower areas, which held the bedrooms and I could only assume also a bathroom. I was informed it would not be a long trip to Washington DC so there was no point in trying to secure a room. However, one of the downstairs bedrooms did hold something of interest. Two armed guards were stationed in front of this particular room to protect the valuables within, namely the aforementioned paintings.

When I received the invitation from Luke and first heard of this yearly trip, I thought back to my own days of youth. My mother and father taking me, their only daughter, out on a long and arduous car ride to visit grandma and grandpa down in Florida. Sure, it was an old, beat down GM Viking and the intense heat was often unbearable, and staring at the leather upholstery in front of me for 12 hours a day for 3 days was no picnic, but still, the fact that we were all together made it all worthwhile. We didn't ride in luxury, but we still had fun.

Not here though.

You could cut the tension with a knife as we sat about with nothing to do when dinner was finished. Everyone on board the ship was present at the table, the two guards from below deck, Rex and his mother, Luke and his parents, and myself. I had been trying to leave a positive impression on Luke's parents, but I was unsure how it was all going.

"So, how about a toast then?" Luke began.

"What are we toasting?" Mrs. Coelestis questioned as Luke uncorked a bottle.

"Oh... you know... the future... and stuff."

Even to me it sounded suspicious but I wasn't about to refuse a drink. It'd probably relieve at least some of this tension. Luke hastily poured everyone a drink, however the guards present at the table humbly refused his offer. It made sense that they not drink on the job, especially since they were also armed, each one holding a pistol at their side. They merely enjoyed a glass of water.

Luke continued setting down drinks, for his parents, for the Coelestis family, for himself, and lastly for me. "So then, to our safe arrival and to the continued success of the Prescott Group?" I shrugged, but it was a good enough excuse for a drink to distill the tension. Unfortunately, it just got worse from there.

I gasped as I noticed a thin band of metal bobbing in my drink. Not to point out an irrelevant tangent, but here's a free medical tip. You should always avoid suddenly breathing when your mouth is full of liquid, otherwise you will choke. Which is precisely what I did when I noticed the engagement at the bottom of my glass.

"What's wrong? Harold asked, a genuine tone of concern to his voice after he finished his drink.

"Seems like Cathy can't handle her alcohol." Mrs. Prescott began, an uninterested tone in her voice.

At last I managed to stop coughing, catching my breathe. "Luke..." I began, hopefully not sounding too nervous. "Is... this..."

Luke's mother interrupted. "Is that..."

"An engagement ring." Mrs. Coelestis announced, dully uninspired as she reached for a cigarette after finishing her drink.

"Congratulations!" Harold said. In my still dazed state I was unable to stop him from planting a kiss on my cheek. "I always knew you two were meant to be."

Luke was all smiles, but his smile was slowly fading. "Come on Cathy, you're making me blush here." He stated with a quick laugh. "You're gonna say yes... right?"

"I..." I surveyed the room. Luke's father seemed to cover his face with his hat before quickly excusing himself. Luke's mother held an expression of disapproval.

"Why... how could you even think of marrying her!?" Mrs. Prescott demanded.

"She's probably pregnant. I mean, just look at her." Mrs. Coelestis responded, taking a puff of her cigarette.

"If she's pregnant, you probably shouldn't smoke so close to her." Harold insisted. He put his hand on her wrist, but a quick look from her had gotten him to back off.

"I'm not pregnant!" I insisted. Sure, I wasn't some kind of pin-up girl from one of those magazines, but I didn't think I was some kind of monster or something. Maybe I had put on a little weight since high school, but I still carried myself with professionalism and always made sure I looked my best.

"Damn it, that's uncalled for!" Luke shot back at his mother. "Cathy and I love each other, and we're getting married with or without you're blessing! Right?"

Suddenly, all eyes were on me.

"Umm..." I shifted uneasily in my chair.

A part of me thought to accept at the instant, a cruel and spiteful move towards Mrs. Coelestis and Mrs. Prescott, but looking back to Luke I had second thoughts. I couldn't accept if it meant I was doing it for all the wrong reason.

"I..." I stammered, finding myself unable to form a coherent answer, and unable to even think straight. "I just... I-I-I... I need to think about it."

I quickly pushed my chair back and left the dining area as quickly as I could, entering the outside section, the deck.

---

It seemed whatever mild moment of privacy I had planned out here was not to be. I had forgotten that Mr. Prescott left the dining area earlier. His back was turned to me, admiring the water in the moonlight I thought.

"M-Mister Prescott?" I began with a tone of trepidation to my voice that I did not mean to give off. A more reserved tone, one of respect.

"Call me Lawrence." A notably friendlier-than-expected tone to his voice alleviated my fears slightly, and his next words quelling them all at once. "Nah, forget that. Call me Dad."

He turned and in the light of the moon I caught a joyous smile etched itself upon his face as he pulled me into a hug. A swirling mix of emotions, going from the mixture of confusion and mild happiness of hearing Luke's proposal, to the disappointment of Luke's family's rejection, right now I had no idea how to feel.

He pulled away, adjusting his captain's hat and straightening the top of the scarf that peeked out of his blue sweater vest. "Don't worry so much about Mrs. Prescott. When I married Luca, my parents threw a fit too: crying; fist fighting; threatening to disown me; the works."

I was at a bit of a loss for words, understandably considering how the evening had gone. I nodded, barely able to speak. "I..."

"Even someone who wasn't born with a silver spoon in your mouth can see where Luca's coming from though, right?" He turned away from me, looking back towards the water. "After Lauren's passing we were all kinds of shook up." A melancholy tone to his voice, and it took me a moment to remember why. Lauren, Luke's sister: murdered by the Times Square arsonist, Laminar's father.

However a few lingering thoughts and unanswered questions had stayed in my head, even after the trial. Questions that weren't answered by the newspapers I read. As long as we were on the subject, it wouldn't hurt to ask for more details. "Luke understandably has always seemed to want to avoid discussion about it but nevertheless I don't believe I ever got the whole story. If it's alright with you... do you mind...?”

I had trouble formulating the right query, but it seemed Mr. Prescott understood what I meant. He raised his hand to about chest level, to get me to stop stammering. I complied.

"It all started a long time ago. I wanna say 8 years, but it doesn't really feel that long. In any case, as you undoubtedly know, the Prescott Group is a firm made up of three main companies. The crown jewel to the Prescott Group is Infinite Solutions, a pharmaceutical company I personally co-owned with Harold's father." I nodded, recalling I had read about that somewhere. But that 8 years thing had piqued my interest. My thoughts turned back to Laminar, the 8 year old daughter.

"We worked tirelessly to establish the best healthcare possible. But apparently that wasn't good enough for some people. That Oskar Eidenberg guy, the Times Square Arsonist he, didn't think we did enough testing on the new ultrasound machines we innovated. See, his wife died during childbirth, and apparently he blamed us for her death. He didn't trust the ultrasound machine to be safe. I guess... I mean, who really knows what goes on in the minds of the mentally ill?" he nodded, a condescending tone to his voice.

"Well anyway, for the past 8 years, Mr. Eidenberg had been protesting Infinite Solutions, demanding the company be investigated more thoroughly. Some of his protests even turned violent at times. Nothing too serious at first: egg throwing; spray paint; keying cars; petty vandalism stuff until... that fateful day." A pained expression to his voice as he attempted to hid his face.

I was thoroughly aware of the basic facts of the case, and I truly didn't mean to pry too much, however just one question remained in my mind.

"What was Lauren doing at the Infinite Solutions building that night anyway?"

He wiped a tear from his eye and continued. "Well, the night that Harold proposed to Laurie and she was beside herself with joy."

"Joy from an engagement announcement you say?" I responded with a tinge of sarcasm. "I wish I knew what that was like."

He smirked before affectionately tousling my hair. "I'm guessing she just wanted to tell the world how happy she was. She was probably rushing to see her brother to show off the ring. They're pretty close; you'd hardly be able to tell Luke was adopted."

"Hardly?" The blonde haired, blue eyed Lauren and the remainder of the Prescott family contrasted sharply with the dark haired, brown eyed Luke.

"So Lauren, all in a rush, took a shortcut through the building her dad owned. Ultimately, she paid the price because at that moment the Times Square Arsonist decided to exact his revenge for her wife's death. He lit the match and the building was up in flames. That's what the cops figured at least."

I thought over everything he said over.

"Besides, he confessed to the priest, according to the nun. Those are religious figures Cathy; you can't take the words of a pastor or a nun lightly."

Something about the way he described the situation seemed off. Lauren had kept her relationship with Harold a secret from the two of us, so to have her suddenly change her mind about the whole thing felt rather abrupt. Was she really enraptured so much she'd escape at the dead of night to visit Luke and I? Further information would be needed, but I wasn't sure if I should continue pressing the issue.

"Thank you for your time Mr. Prescott."

"Dad." He corrected. "You are marrying my Luke after all."

"I..." I looked down, unsure of how to respond.

"You're worried about Luke's mom? Well don't worry." A quick laugh. "I'm sure Luca will change her mind once she sees how happy you've made Luke." He put his hat back on and began walking towards the captain's chambers. "Head back in, Cathy. I'm sure Luke's waiting for you."

I nodded, turning back to the living room area and making my return.

(Word Count: 2086)

Sinking Feeling

The moment I entered the dining are, Mrs. Prescott quickly turned away from me in one solid motion.

"You'll marry my son over my dead body!" a cruelty to Mrs. Prescott's words as she hurried downstairs to the bedroom area.

Luke rubbed a sore sport on his cheek, an outline of being slapped hard across the face. Mrs. Prescott was casually smoking a cigarette, notably not at all paying attention. Luke and Harold seemed to be speaking as I approached.

Harold took a look at me before smirking, then back to Luke. "Looks like I'll leave you two crazy kids alone. Oh, but before I go I want you to have something." He reached into his jacket pocket before producing a rather fancy and ornate watch.

"Oh... thank you very much Harold." A smile, the first smile I've seen since he had proposed, had formed itself upon my partner’s face.

"My dad gave it to me. It was supposed to be... a wedding present. But it looks like you two will be the next to be married." Despite the somber tone to his voice he tried to smile and appear supportive.

Luke's expression turned from one of appeasement to a more serious, stern face. Surprised that Harold would bring up a subject like that at such a time, perhaps?

I took a step forward, not wanting Luke to turn against one of the few allies we still had on the high seas. "Harold! Luke is touched that you'd give up such a valuable time piece, especially one that belonged to your father."

I hoped my nervousness wasn't showing, but I did continue. "Anyway, you needn't leave on my accord. We can all be civil here, can't we?"

You could cut the tension with a knife. Luke angered at his mother, Harold and I never quite getting along. Nevertheless, I always felt if that if things weren't all okay, the second best thing to do would be to act like it was all fine.

"Luke never got the chance to propose to you properly." Harold reminded, with a sly grin on his face. It seemed to snap Luke out of his state of delirium. He once again returned to regular goofy Luke, with the same smile I had always known him to have.

"Harold's right." He pulled out the ring from his pocket, getting down on one knee and taking my hand. I froze.

"Catherine Alyson Gibbs..." He said, a notable look of nervous on his face.

I did my best to maintain my composure. I mean, if there was anyone I'd have to marry, it would easily be Luke. But for right now, it felt too fast, too sudden. I was unsure of how to answer him, unsure if I could love him as much as he loved me. It both frightened and exhilarated me, more one then the other.

"Umm..." I wished for anything to relieve the stress of the moment. Unfortunately, I got my wish.

"Luke before you begin, I-" I was interrupted by a loud bang from downstairs, then a scream - Ms. Prescott's voice no doubt.

"Gunshots!" Luke exclaimed, standing up. His hand cupped my own, quickly placing the engagement ring in my hand. In one quick motion, I had put it on. Mrs. Coelestis sat up, but none-the-less still appeared to be rather apathetic to the whole situation.

Then a second shot, not long after the first. Some of us were visibly shaken by what we just heard. Naturally, concern for Ms. Prescott was the first on my mind, as it likely was for everyone else

"Let's go." I lead the way downstairs, accompanied by whomever had the courage to follow.

---

As the three of us, Lucas Prescott, Harold Coelestis, and myself, entered the lower decks, we were greeted to a most grizzly scene. Red blots decorated a portion of walls further ahead. The classy interior was immediately contrasted by the pools of blood gathering around the guards that were collapsed in a heap on the ground. Harold couldn’t believe the sight before him. Unrecognizable whispers caught my ears from behind. While I couldn’t see it, he was slowly becoming pale. Ahead of us, one guard was nearest to the door of a bedroom; one guard was halfway down the hall. And curled up in a fetal position near the calamity was Miss Luca Prescott.

I took a step forward to investigate the scene further.

Luke however seemed to call my credentials into question. "What are you-"

"We're detectives, remember?" My eyes motioned towards the woman sobbing in the corner. "And take care of your mother will you?"

Luke attempted to usher his mom away as I gave the fallen guards a cursory glance: a few signs of a struggle; the unbuttoned top uniform button of the first guard; the poorly drawn tie of the second peeking over his sweater-vest. I raised a brow as I spotted what I assumed to be the murder weapon, a pistol, lying upon the ground. Taking a quick look about, it seemed the second guard had an empty gun holster on his hip, the first guard still holding his in place.

I bent down to get a closer look of the first guard, closest to the bedroom door. The identification tag clipped upon his shirt identified him as 'Robert Peterson'. Not being a doctor, I felt it beyond my level of expertise to manhandle him, looking only at the things upon the surface. However, I did make sure to note the most likely causes of death. A bullet wound right between the eyes, clearly the mark of someone well versed in firearms.

My mini-investigation led me to the next guard, the one halfway down the hall. His identification card labeled him as 'Marcus Fennel'. Overall, the names of the victims did not feel that important to the case, but they were worth noting, at the very least. He was collapsed on his side; blood seemed to be flowing out of his mouth. I leaned down to check more thoroughly and found a rather perplexing injury. Burn marks inside his mouth, and an exit wound at the back of the skull. If I didn't know any better, I'd swear he put the gun in his mouth and pulled the trigger.

The last bit of evidence to gather was the murder weapon, lying down next to the second security guard I saw. I was thankful for the cold November air for a change, as I had remembered to bring my gloves. Putting them on, I picked it up and examined the barrel. "Two shots; recently fired."

"Is that important or something?" A disinterested sound from Harold.

I rolled my eyes in disgust. He was no Luke, so I'd have to dumb it down for him. "It would seem the murder weapon wielded by this second guard, Mr. Fennel, was used to murder the both of them."

"So what does that mean?"

"At first glance, it might appear that Mr. Peterson and Mr. Fennel decided it'd be a fun idea to play 'fastest draw in the west', ending in a tie. However upon closer inspection, it seems both shots were fired from the same gun. Meaning the person who killed them both were one and the same."

"That's ridiculous! The only other person in here was-" Harold paused as he realized the gravity of the situation. "Luke's mom?"

"The only other alternative is that after shooting his partner he immediately decided to end his own life as well, which I find highly unlikely." It was a most troubling puzzle if I'd ever heard one. However, there was a familiar sense of unease in the air down there. An overwhelming feeling of dread but I couldn't quite put my finger on it. If not for my rush to get away from the dead bodies, I'd have likely picked up on it sooner.

"Our only lead right now is Mrs. Prescott. Let's go Harold." I hurried upstairs ahead of him, hoping to find a new lead in this case.

---

A murder on the high seas, and the prime suspect seemed to be my partner's mother.

Mrs. Prescott lay on the couch in the upper area, as the remainder of the party, sans Harold and myself, had gathered around to comfort her at her moment of need. It seemed to be of such urgency that Mrs. Coelestis had put out her cigarette. As I approached the scene, Mrs. Prescott seemed rather shaken, almost timid. Could it really have been her who murdered the guards? In any case, it seemed it was up to me to break the bad news.

"The guards looking after the paintings downstairs have been killed."

A cough; not even a bit of surprise.

"Yes, you're a trifle slow there. Luke already told us," Mrs. Coelestis stated bluntly as she began pouring a wine glass for Prescott.

I awkwardly fussed with my hair. After calling attention to myself I had little else to say on the matter. "Well... there were still a few peculiarities over the crime scene. When I began looking over the bodies I had noticed that-"

As blunt as a brick to the side of the face, Harold interrupted. "She thinks Mrs. Prescott did it."

"What!?" Mrs. Prescott sprang to life, sitting upright after Harold's words. I clenched my teeth to contain the anger I felt towards Harold.

"Figures. After all, she accused my dear Harold and I of killing our poor Rex." She removed her sunglasses, a casual smirk as she looked towards Harold for a bit. "To think, a member of the Coelestis family would never murder someone they loved."

I had little time to defend myself from Mrs. Coelestis's accusations when Mrs. Prescott began anew.

"How could you think I murdered anyone!?" she took a swig of the drink Mrs. Coelestis had handed her before attempting to lob the glass at me. Possibly a lack of strength had made the glass only awkwardly roll off and hit the ground, not even remotely damage.

I rolled my eyes at the display. "Look, I never-"

"Say what you will about mom Cathy, but she wouldn't hurt a fly." Luke put a hand on my shoulder, as though attempting to reassure me. However, I attempted to brush it off.

"I didn't-" I began to protest.

"That's enough!" The gruff voice of Mr. Prescott called out, returning from outside. "Listen, let's just hear to what the detective says before jumping down her throat, okay?"

Even though it was the middle of November I was sweating bullets. I swallowed hard before beginning anew. "The gun-"

"This one." Harold produced the murder weapon from his jacket pocket.

My jaw dropped as paused to take it all. "Are... are you serious!?" I exclaimed. "You can't just pick up evidence from a murder scene with your bare hands! For Christ's sake, you're worse than Luke was on his first day!"

"Don't yell at my dear Harold!"

"Don't yell at my girlfriend!"

"Don't yell at my mother!"

My vision was obscured by the palm upon my face as it seemed this case was quickly spiraling out of control. It seemed I'd be unable to get any decent questioning in. "From what I could tell of the murder scene, it seemed there was someone else there!" I blurted out quickly. "I'm not saying it was Mrs. Prescott, but unless it was a peculiar murder suicide, that scene does not make sense."

A dizzy Mrs. Prescott seemed to gather her senses as she stood up, helped to her feet by Mrs. Coelestis. "That's low Cathy. Accusing someone one murder is the lowest thing you can do."

"Other than murdering them," I said out of spite, though not truly accusing Mrs. Prescott.

"You know..." the sound of Harold's voice was an unearthly one. I once against felt the return of the feeling of dread I had felt in the Coelestis household. Similar to Laminar's when she was possessed, however slightly opposite. A woman's voice overlaid onto his.

My weight shifted as I performed a quick about-face. He looked exactly the same, yet somehow different. A feminine stance to him, and the eyes, pale and white like Laminar's. "Death isn't even the worst thing you could do to a person..." My eyes met his... hers... ‘its,’ before I noticed the gun that was held against Harold's, barrel aimed to the right hand side of his head.

"St-" was all I could manage before he pulled the trigger.

(Word Count: 2103)

Abandon Ship

It was too late to stop him; the bullet had struck. The ear-splitting explosive sound of the shot left me frozen as I watched Harold get thrown back by its force. Limp, as he flopped to the floor with a bone-chilling thud. The way he fell back was like being viciously struck in the face by a door, though clearly, this was far worse. I wish that he truly had been struck in the face by a door instead, for more reasons than one - but this was hardly the time for such thoughts. The life of Harold Coelestis had ended that night.

We were all in shock for a brief moment, before Mrs. Coelestis did something I hadn't expected. She had seemed like an ice queen from the moment we met, so to see her explode into a flurry of emotions was startling. She gave out a yell, and being sobbing miserably, cradling the lifeless body of her son. Her sunglasses hid her eyes, but the terrible pain of her wails was indescribable as she collapsed around her boy.

She kept repeating the word no, blubbering as she buried her face within her son's chest. Mrs. Prescott attempted to move her, but Mrs. Coelestis seemed adamantly against this, pushing her away as she continued sobbing hysterically.

"My baby... my sweet little Harold..."

I myself was also shaken, but knew I had to maintain a level head for what came next.

"W-we should leave Mrs. Coelestis alone for now." I stated, making my way towards the door, back onto the deck of the ship. They didn't have to say anything, but it seemed they agreed with me, or at least Luke and Mr. Prescott did. They helped lead Mrs. Prescott onto the main part of the deck.

There was a somber tone to the air, naturally. Luke seemed more fidgety, more frightened than I had ever seen him before or since. He was pacing back and forth, holding a bottle of champagne he must have taken from the dining room before we left. Every time he was about to turn around, he'd take a good long sip of the bottle - a good idea perhaps. Maybe drinking would erase the memory. Mrs. Prescott was muttering something that sounded like quiet prayers and fussing with her hair.

"What... what the hell..." Luke muttered, between sips, still clearly shaken over the death of his childhood friend.

"Well then Ms. Gibbs... Cathy." Mr. Prescott began. "You're supposedly some kind of detective. Do you have any good news to share with us at all?" Not condescending, more hopeful.

I was completely shaken after the events that I had just witnessed, but Mr. Prescott's voice snapped me back. I had to hold myself in composure, and as the one who knew Harold least perhaps it was most likely assumed of me to be the one to hold my wits as best as I could.

"I..." I wiped the tears from my eyes quickly. I could probably blame the misting of the ocean for them later.

"I'll have to th-think it over." Though the last thing I wanted to do was dwell on what I had just witnessed, I knew they were all counting on me.

There was a peculiarity to the last minute of Harold's life. His voice was different, his eyes were different. I struggled to grasp where I had remembered seeing it before. The all white eyes, and the peculiar overlaid voice. There was no mistaking it.

That sudden epiphany lead to a further revelation. If there was a ghost on board the ship, clearly that would provide insight to our first crime scene. I had dismissed it as impossible, the fact that one gaurd had shot his partner, before killing himself. However, now that the theory of a ghost had been presented, all the pieces of the puzzle began to fall into place. If Harold were to suddenly turn violent, it is no doubt the gaurds would step up to stop him. So taking them out first would be the wisest move. And as for the final piece, the name tags upon the gaurds lapels had been their undoing. All anyone needed to do was read them to find out their identity, including our ghost.

But there were still a few gaps in what I had pieced together, and the biggest one remained, the identity of our ghost. Nevertheless, I thought it perhaps necessary to present my finding to the group.

"I think I've just about figured it out."

With appropriate enough timing, Mrs. Coelestis finally seemed to emerge from the cabin. When I first met her, she looked like a starlet. Now she held exactly the opposite look about her face, like a beaten down woman: mascara running down her face, hidden by her sunglasses and her hair a disheveled mess. And yet there was also a Zen-like air of clarity to her. Like she finally had come to a firm understanding of her place in this world. All at once she looked like the most disorganized mess and also the one who held it the most together.

"You okay Mrs. C?" Mr. Prescott asked. She responded with a weak nod as she slowly approached our group. "Cathy's got something to tell us."

Once I felt I had the attention of the group, it was time to lay down my hypothesis. "There's a murderer on board this ship, though not someone you'd expect - not Mr. or Mrs. Prescott, Mrs. Coelestis, or Luke or myself. No, no, our saboteur here is a ghost."

"Preposterous!" Mrs. Prescott shot out. "There's no such thing as ghosts."

"If you had seen the kind of things your son and I have seen ma'am, there would be no doubt in your mind."

"Sorry Cathy, I kind of gotta agree with mom here. I'm just not seeing it." Luke didn't see the way the logic connected, perhaps still shaken up due to his childhood friend's death right before his eyes. Under normal circumstances, I'm sure he'd have seen it my way.

I began my explanation, for the sake of everyone. "When I examined the guards, it seemed only two shots had been fired but both came from the same source. Judging by the location of the murder weapon, I'd have to assume whoever murdered the first guard must have killed the second one as well - to put it bluntly, after shooting his partner. I dismissed this at first, perhaps a third perpetrator tampered with our crime scene..." not a word from Mrs. Prescott. "However..."

"After..." I felt I had to choose my words carefully. Mrs. Coelestis still seemed in a daze, off in another world. This wasn't helped by the fact that her eyes were hidden behind her trademark sunglasses. "After what we witnessed in the dining area with Harold... seeing the pupils in his eyes, hearing the distortion of his voice, he was clearly... working like man possessed. He didn't willingly kill himself, he was driven into it - forced to do it."

"So something on this boat can suddenly cause us to inexplicably kill ourselves!?" Mrs. Prescott began hyperventilating

"Not something. Someone." Commanding the full attention of the entire party, I took a more dignified stance. "Our culprit here is a vengeful ghost." My right fist met my left palm, a motion I intended to accentuate the point, or at least hoped it did.

"A ghost?" Luke asked. His inflection seemed to imply he was at a bit of a loss.

"Most of the spirits we've met had been rather tranquil, caring people. Unfortunately, just as there are evil people in the real world, there are malicious ghosts with unresolved issues. They use the skills ghosts possess to perform wicked deeds, such as possession and moving very small objects, along with causing terrifying nightmarish visions and general feelings of dread."

"Anything we can do to avoid getting possessed?" asked Luke's dad..

A slight smile on my face as Mr. Prescott reminded me of a useful trait of ghosts. "Fortunately, there are some precautions we can take to avoid becoming the next victim. A ghost can only possess those whose name it knows. The guards downstairs were sitting ducks with targets practically painted on their ID cards." I scratched my cheek as I thought it over. "Harold's name was mentioned... by his mother..." I turned to see Mrs. Coelestis. I couldn't tell if she was ignoring me or if she was still in shock with the sunglasses on her face.

"That's... terrible... absolutely appalling. Separating a mother from her child is just about the worst thing you could do." Mrs. Prescott tightly held her boy Luke close to her.

It was a trifle cold on the deck of the ship, however I'd do anything to avoid having to re-enter the living area.

"Mrs. Coelestis. May I borrow your lighter?" I wasn't a smoker, but even the low heat of the lighter would help.

She looked at my direction. "It's all my fault..." she muttered absentmindedly.

The woman had a glass-eyed expression to her. It took all this time to notice, but my eyes finally spotted the pistol in her hand, the one we had left behind when Harold ended his life.

Without a moment's hesitation, I instantly tackled the woman. Not roughly or anything, just quick enough to prevent her from doing anything. She offered little resistance. I wasn't a particularly strong or overly agressive woman, but it seemed in her dazed state she wasn't exactly ready to grip onto a gun for dear life.

"What the hell were you thinking Mrs. Coelestis!?!"

Every else seemed frozen as well, or maybe the tension in the air just made everything feel like it was in slow motion. The former beauty queen looked at me.

"I..."

A bit of sympathy, I thought to let her go, but a quick motion. I placed my leather boot on the pistol, and gave it a quick kick, letting it slide on the deck towads Luke. If there was anyone I could trust with a pistol, it would be my partner.

I took a step back from the older woman. "Now, are you ready to-"

"I'm... sorry... for everything..."

She took one quick breathe, her last one. She stepped backwards, leaning on the railing. It was a quick and sudden motion. In the first instant, she had climbed like the railing was a ladder, with her back against it. In the next instant, she was sitting, arms open and leaning backwards. And lastly, her final seconds alive, she jerked back suddenly, falling off the yacht before I could even react.

We were frozen in stunned silence before I rushed ahead. "Mrs. Coelestis!"

I heard a loud clang, the sound of her head hitting the side of a propeller no doubt, followed soon by a splash, her body hitting the water.

I looked down, peering over the side of the boat and into the water. Even in the dark of night, with the light of the moon I could see the hints of blood staining the water.

(Word Count: 1859)

Come Hell or High Water

I felt so weak, so completely and utterly useless. I held the woman in my hands, she was literally within striking distances, and I had let her fall to a watery grave. I collapsed on the ground, letting out a frustrated yell. I grasped at the strands of light brown hair, giving them a sharp tug. It didn't offer any insight, but it felt like it might help to snap me out of this feeling of impotence. I sighed, and did my best to shake myself out of it. To act brave, even though I certainly didn't feel it.

"We-we're not too far from the mainland." Mr. Prescott began walking towards the Captain's chambers. "I'll send out an SOS, start turning the boat towards dry land and get a flare gun ready."

There was a notable hint of nervousness to Mr. Prescott's voice, but he had tried to remain the brave one. I assume it was because he was the oldest in the group. He left the area, heading towards the captain's area.

"So if this is a ghost, what does it want? Why did it kill Harold?" Luke asked, momentarily leaving his mother's side and walking towards me.

Truth be told, it was a bit of a puzzle. Even though I wasn't particularly fond of him, I couldn't imagine someone actively holding a grudge against Harold. To me, it was most likely an act that was meant to shake us all up.

"It was most likely revenge... but revenge for what? Did Infinite Solutions, the Prescott Group, the Coelestis Family or Prescott Family have any enemies?"

"We've got tons." Mr. Prescott returned. "But that doesn't mean they're all dead." He had what looked like an oversized pistol in his hand, aiming upwards and pulled the trigger. A loud whistling noise erupted as the bright shot went upwards and exploded in midair, a large flash of light to alert the coast guard of our location.

"Maybe ghosts can access the thoughts of the people they possess?" Luke asked.

My thoughts turned back to Margaret and Laminar. "I doubt it. I couldn't imagine the girl being that grateful to the 'Extra Small Medium' if she knew she was a fraud and had just profited from Miss Filler's death. They only have their own thoughts, the ones they held before they died and the ones they formed after dying."

"And Colonel Angus would be so grateful if he knew how racist you were Cathy."

I gave Luke a dismissive look, mildly upset that he'd bring that up at a time like this. This case felt all over the place; the sudden suicide of Harold Coelestis, the death of his mother, the fallen guards protecting the paintings downstairs, along with the overwhelming feeling of familiarity. Why did this case remind me so much of Coelestis Manor? I stopped to think it over. After a bit of thinking, I felt at last I had one definite thread to tie the two together.

"You said this boat was also taking portraits to a museum, right? By any chance, is one of the paintings you're donating that Red Stained Angel from Coelestis's study?"

Mr. Prescott gave me a perplexed, and mildly annoyed look, before melting away to one of more unsure. "I'm not a hundred percent sure. All I know are the paintings the Prescott Family are sending. The Coelestis Family has mentioned wanting to get rid of that painting for some time though..."

"What's on your mind Cathy?" Luke began, now standing next to me.

"Ghosts bind to objects they dearly loved when they were alive so then if the object they've bound to is on this boat it could very well prove to be a quick way for them to get on board this boat. Can you think anyone who was capable of visiting Coelestis Manor, who enjoyed artwork, and who is recently deceased." It was obvious I was leading Luke on, but it would be all for nothing if he himself hadn't come to the same realization I did.

His face drew pale as he finally figured it out. "Just one... but she wouldn't... I mean..."

"It's our final inescapable conclusion Luke!" Luke nodded reluctantly. We both stood next to each other before calling out to the ghost.

"Lauren Prescott! We humbly request an audience!"

A sudden gasp from Mrs. Prescott had reminded us of her presence; she stood from where she once was, eyes full of white. A laugh followed as though two voices were being played at once. Her body was there, but it also seemed to have the projection of another woman as well. Like if Mrs. Prescott had stood up during a movie and the film projector had shone a similar looking woman upon her.

"Well it seems you've found me at last." The double voice voice; the pale white eyes; our ghost had once again made its presence known.

"Why! Why are you killing everyone!? What do you want Lauren!?" I exclaimed in a panic.

Mr. Prescott looked at his wife, his daughter, eyes watering as the gravity of the situation hit him. Lauren's ghost eyes locked onto Mr. Prescott's, a serious scowl upon her face.

"My unfinished business you mean?" An unusually cruel smile upon her face. "You'll figure it out soon enough Cathy."

"Laurie... mom..." Luke seemed frozen. Mr. Prescott seemed partly enraged and partly insulted by this latest development.

It had taken me a while but at last I had noticed the pistol in her hand. It had seemed Lauren had specifically targeted her mother as she was closest to the pistol at the time. She began to take aim, but it seemed her target was Mr. Prescott.

It was a blink-and-you'll-miss-it moment. A sudden wave had thrown off the ghost-woman's aim. She pulled the trigger, but fortunately for Luke's father it was not a fatal shot. However, he still suffered a severe laceration in his arm. Perhaps it hit a nerve, perhaps it was some cleverly designed revenge by the Gods themselves, but the hand that was shot held the flare gun. In an equally as sudden moment, Luke's father also pulled the trigger, however he hadn't been aiming at anything at all. The flare flew through the air, horizontal as opposed to vertical, striking Mrs. Prescott in the chest.

A loud and horrified yell, the sound of both Luke's mother and Luke's sister echoed in the silence.. Luke's eyes widened in horror at what he was witnessing. I couldn't blame him. His own mother had just been struck with a flare, and literally burst into flames right before him.

A panicked yell, that slowly began to fade away, until just one voice remained. Lauren's. Her breathing was heavy and labored as she had no host in which to leech her senses off of.

"M-m-mom..." Luke burst into tears, and though obviously the pain was overwhelming, we still had to finish this.

"Pull yourself together Luke!" I commanded. I placed my hand on his shoulder, giving him a quick shake.

I surveyed the scene; Luke's father was critically injured, the Coelestis family had killed themselves, and the gaurds meant to protect us had themselves been their own undoing. Lastly, the fires from the flare were still raging, burning through the deck of the ship. "It'll all okay Luke. We just need t-"

And then, a sudden lurching. If not for the fact that we were on a ship, I'd have swore it were an earthquake. My first thought was that another large wave had struck the side of the boat, but the water did not seem particularly troubled from where I stood. I suddenly noticed it, the fire from the flare. Not only were they spreading, but they had managed to make it to the lower levels. The ship was sinking.

"Oh God! We're all gonna die here." I insisted. I had done my best to keep my cool for as long as I could, but faced with your own mortality and the very real possibility of death at the horizon, I was quickly wrapped in a panic. I'm rather ashamed to admit it, but I began to cry, to sob hysterically. All I could do to keep from completely falling apart was cling onto Luke.

The ghostly remains of the girl who possessed Harold and Mrs. Prescott remained, yet appeared far far weaker. A distorted image of the girl I remembered.

At seeing me in my state, I can only assume something within Luke awoke.

"What were you after!? Why did you do this!? What was your unfinished business!?" Luke finally blurted out. He was trembling. I'd find out later it was not out of fear of dying, but of fear from seeing me die.

"J..." she was fading. With no human host to help her, the only thing she had to cling to was the item she most treasured, no doubt quickly flooding and sinking below the surface of the water. It looked as though she strained to speak even the smallest word. "J-just-us!"

"Justice?"

One final lurch of the boat before Luke and I completely lost our bearing. First me, then Luke for trying to support me. I struggled to look up, finding Mr. Prescott, still as alive as ever, lying face up on the deck of the ship. His breathing was labored, but the fact that he was breathing seemed like enough. The two of us scrambled to crawl to him on the crumbling remains of the boat.

"I'm... I'll... be okay." he muttered, trying to put up a tough front. Luke and I collected him by the arms. He winced in pain, no doubt still hurt from the gunshot. Our only priority now, with the fire spreading and the water rising was not to lose each other.

"I hope the salt water doesn't hurt that gun shot." I began as I shifted my weight to try to maintain an even foothold.

I barely remember what happened next, it was all a blur. One moment, we were surrounded on all sides by fire on the deck of the ship, then a splash. The water died down, and my footing was gone. I did my best to cling onto anything or anyone, Luke, Mr Prescott, and at last it took me a moment to make heads or tails of the situation.

We, the three of us, were all that remained from a starting band of eight. The ship was gone.

One last cry of pain, Lauren's, as her ghost sunk along with the boat. We bobbed in the water for about a minute, feeling hopeless and terrible for a good long while before a loud voice alerted us of several nearby boats.

"This is the Coast Guard! Is there anyone still alive over there?" At last it seemed the Coast Guard had come to our rescue. I looked over the scene, an injured Mr. Coelestis, a horribly shaken Luke, and a sunken boat. It had seemed a little too late, but we were grateful for the rescue.

The regrettable passing of a woman, feeling her death was in vain. Her unfinished business, her final words to us: Justice. Investigate her death and we'd surely find the truth.

... If only it were that simple.

(Word Count: 1901)

Word Count: 7949

Edited by Hatcher, 08 March 2012 - 01:20 PM.

[Hatcher]

Winding down the story with Chapter 5:

ZM - 108OS: Tuesday, November 9th, 1965

Recompense

Today was Harold's funeral.

It was a quick and quiet get together, purely a symbolic gesture as his body rested at the bottom of the sea. Later that afternoon, we all listened to the lawyer as he was reading off Harold Coeletis's last will and testament.

"To my dearest friend Lucas Prescott, I leave my most prized possession. The handmade golden watch my father gave to me on his deathbed."

A blank expression stretched on Luke's face as he produced the golden pocketwatch Harold had given to him on the boat as a wedding present. "Did he mean this one? He already gave it to me."

The lawyer gave a quick shrug before continuing.

"To Luke's dear friend Catherine who helped our family in our hour of need, I bequeth to her my beloved 1964 Rolls Royce."

"He... what?" I came to his will reading to support Luke, not because I truly expected to recieve anything. Overall, learning that Harold held me to such high esteem I felt pangs of guilt develop. I had hardly known him and had sort of grown to dislike him, and yet he he had honored me with a rather expensive luxury car. I looked away rather sheepishly as I continued to listen to the lawyer.

"And to the woman who took care of me when I was a baby, who raised me singlehandedly and held our family together when we most needed it-"

I turned to Luke whispering "His mom? But she's-"

"-To our former head maid, Miss Marta Esperanza Fortunado, I leave all of my remaining money, wealth, and property."

I looked around the room. Several woman seemed annoyed, perhaps expecting more - or anything at all, as it seemed he had completely cut them off. It never struck me that Harold had this many ladies-in-waiting and female suitors, before I remembered he and his family were also exceptionally wealthy.

I leaned slightly towards Luke before asking the inevitable question. "Who's Marta Fortunado?"

Luke gave me a bit of an 'are you serious?' look before answer. "It's like the lawyer said. She was the head maid at Coelestis manor. She worked there for as far back as I can remember. Anytime I visited Harold I would see her, until I went away for prep school that is."

I thought it over for a minute. I had seen no trace of the woman during my first and only visit to the Coelestis household. Then I remembered old Mrs Coelestis's words. 'About a month or two had passed before the maids and butlers began complaining of eerie presences. Seeing small items move, blood draping the mirrors, hearing doors suddenly slamming and opening, and a feeling of coldness wrapping around them. One by one, they all quit until only my son and I remain."

The entire circumstances of that case, coupled with what we knew now were all deeply perplexing. I sat with my hand in my chin, thinking the situation over. From what I had gathered, Mr. Coeletis and Lauren Prescott had both died around the same time. In fact, within the same week. Was it all just coincidence?

"Cathy."

I faintly heard my name being called, but felt my own thoughts needed processing first. We had been told that the cause of Lauren's death was she had just been at the wrong place at the wrong time. And yet, her ghost had practically proven this was not the case. Her spirit was rife with vengenance, but not towards Mr. Oskar Eidenberg. Her targets where her own family and the Coelestis household. Did they have more of a hand to play at Lauren's demise then we were originally told?

"Cathy."

"C-Catherine." I fixed absentmindedly. I hadn't even noticed who had spoken my name, but went back to my deep contemplating. The third piece of the puzzle, I felt I had cleared up through some deep thoughts earlier. Miss Margaret Filler had informed us that she had become confused and disoriented, blinded as she traveled from the Lighthouse to the 'Sideshow by the Seashore'. If Lauren's ghost was confined to Coelestis manor, she'd have a hell of a long swim ahead of her. There was also that same familiar feeling of unshakable dread and apprehension had filled me both while in Mr. Coelestis's study and on the Prescott family yacht. The only common thread I could think was myself, Luke, and-

"Cathy!" a more urgent tone to Luke's voice called me to attention.

"Wh-what!? What is it?" I asked, taken out of my thoughts with a jolt.

As I looked him over, I had noticed the crowd had already begun to disperse. Luke held a car key in his hand, reminding me of what I had just inherited. "The lawyer said to give this to you. Wanna go out for a test drive?" He gave a bit of a silly grin, and I couldn't say no.

"If you insist, however there's just one little detour we have to make."

Lauren Coelestis. Her final words to us - Justice. The Coelestis family wasn't free of suspicion, but alas all of them were gone and unable to provide more information. Which meant all that was left was to investigate those that were close to them.

Harold's lawyer informed us that those who are entitled to claim something after a will reading, yet did not show up to recieve it, are provided with a copy of the afforementioned will by the mail, along with instructions of how and when they can claim their belongings. As Luke and I went to the will reading, the Rolls Royce and watch were given to us immediately. For Mrs. Fortunato, she'd be getting hers through the mail. However, I volunteered Luke and myself for this delivery task.

With the knowledge that I was driving Harold's old car I felt rather unnerved, but I tried to push it out of my mind and keep my eyes on the road. Following the address we were given on the letter from Harold's lawyer, Luke and I found the woman's home, a tenement in the Lower East Side. From the outside, the building looked like the polar opposite of the buildings I had grown accustomed to working in.

I parked the car right outside and entered the building. Looking at the envelope, I easily found the third floor tenement. A quick knock and before too long I was face to face with an older woman. Not middle aged or anything, but at the least older then myself. I had assumed it likely she was in her mid to late 30s.

"Yes? Can I help you?" A strong hint of a hispanic accent highlighting every word she said.

"My name is Catherine Gibbs and this is my associate Lucas Prescott."

"Call me Luke." Luke smiled at the older woman, however she did not reciprocate, continuing to eye the pair of us. I thought it unusual she didn't recognize Lucas before recalling they probably never knew each other too well. I myself doubted I'd be able to recognize Laminar ten years from now.

"Well anyway," I began, extending a handshake that she also did not reciprocate before I ended up lowering my hand. "We are the owners and operators of The New York City's Premier Spectral Detective Agency, the Ca-"

"How do I know you two are really who you say?" A tone of skepticism highlighted her voice.

I thought for a moment before digging into my pocket. "Well, I have my driver's license here-"

"I've got my learner's permit." Luke remarked, producing his own identification.

"No I mean, how do I know you two are really just ghost hunters?"

"Spectral Detectives. And... well..." It was a good question, and I suppose we had reached an impasse. However, Mrs. Fortunado quickly figured a way we could prove we were true Spectral Detectives.

Word Count: 1320

Results

"Zoila Martinez! We humbly request an audience!"

The lights in the poorly built tenement apartment began to flicker, dimming profusely and leaving only the faint light from a setting sun at the window as their only source of light. There was a chill in the air and the nearby family, our clients, huddled together on the couch for warmth.

An older woman, began to materialize before us, white in hair and extremely wrinkled. If I had to describe the expression on her face, I'd say she seemed sad, yet gentle. The woman strained to speak, but once she had managed up the strength we found she had a lot to say.

"Yo me llamo Zoila Martinez. Di a luz a mi única hija justo antes que empezara la segunda guerra mundial. Su padre era un soldado, quien dió su vida en las playas de Normandía. Desde aquel dia prometì ayudar a mi hija de cualquier forma que pudiese, pero siendo una madre soltera conllevaba muchos desafíos. Aunque tenía la pensión por mi esposo, esta apenas era suficiente. Trabaje muchos empleos y nunca pude ver a mi hija tanto como me hubiera gustado. A pesar de esto, estaba determinadaa que si yo no era capaz de sacarnos de este ciclo de pobreza, ella lo haría. Desafortunadamente soy mas vieja de lo que pensaba. Hace 3 años sufrì un paro cardiaco en mi casa que me dejo incapaz de caminar, obligando a mi hija a cuidarme. Le rogué que me dejara en un asilo pero se negó, diciendo que en muchos de estos maltrataban a los mayores. Finalmente morí en paz mientras dormía, sólo para darme cuenta que ella habia gastado la mayor parte del dinero en medicinas para mi y para el funeral."

She strained the whole way through to speak, but by the end of it, she just broke down into tears.

"Lo único que quería era que mi hija no terminara tan pobre como yo, pero creo que nunca llegaré a ver aquel día."

It was an awkward situation for Luke and myself. "Umm... Luke?" I began. "Did you happen to catch any of that?"

Luke seemed just as perplexed as I was. "Not a word."

My eyes turned to the family, hoping they'd provide a hint. However, they too seemed overcome with emotion, especially Mrs. Fortunado. She turned to the female ghost, her mother.

"Por favor no te preocupes por nosotros. No lamentamos como gastamos nuestro dinero."

"Esto no es sobre tus lamentos. Gastaron demasiado tiempo y dinero en mi que se descuidaron ustedes mismos. No puedo ir al cielo sabiendo que no estan bien cuidados aqui"

I couldn't make heads or tails of the scene, not speaking a word of Spanish had become a considerable disadvantage. I turned to the younger boy, her son, roughly middle school age. He wiped a tear from his eye and looked up at me. He blinked, before realizing neither Luke not I understood what was going on.

"Grandma's worried we won't have any money for the future."

I glumly put my ungloved hands into my pocket before I felt it. A paper within my pocket, an envelope from earlier in the day, the message I had been tasked to deliver. The ending of the case and the quickest way to resolve the ghost's unfinished was close at hand, quite literally.

"Mrs. Martinez, you need not worry about your family here. Thought it pains me to bring them unfortunate news of a regrettable passing, every dark cloud has a silver lining." The female ghost looked at me with confusion in her eye. It took me a moment to realize she probably did not speak or understand English, and if she did it was probably very limited.

Breaking the silence, Luke cut in bluntly. "Harold Coelestis died. He left Mrs. Fortunado something in her will. That's one of the main reason we came to visit."

There was a bit of a hushed murmur at Luke's words. It seemed news of the Coelestis's family hadn't yet hit their former head maid. Not that I quite expected it to, as I assumed after quitting at Coelestis manor they had little else in common and no real reason to communicate.

The envelope wasn't sealed, so opening it up was no problem. Though the letter was mostly in English, the numbers were in... well, numbers. I stepped up and pointed out the relevant section to the ghost.

"Cuatro... mi-" the ghostly seemed speechless. "¿M-mi hija?" Her arm loosely pointed out her daughter. I nodded.

The ghostly woman gasped, an unmistakable tone of shock and excitement in her voice. She exploded into a fit of laughter and joy, tears glistening in the fading sunlight before she began to glow more and more transparent. Her laughter shook the walls and echoed loudly, before fading softly and ending in nothing. The light flickered back on and chill in the air had died down. We were left in a bit of a silence before Mrs. Fortunado, Mrs. Martinez's daughter, spoke up.

"So... Harold Coelestis is dead?" There was a melancholy tone to her voice. A mixture of relief and saddness in the way she spoke. "I hope you don't think it rude to ask, but how much did he leave me?"

Luke began speaking, before I interrupted. "Four m-"

"-Me to know and you to find out."

Mr. and Mrs. Fortunado seemed less then satisfied with my interruption. Even Luke seemed rather perplexed. "Cathy, what are you doing?"

I re-adjusted my gloves and pocketed the letter, summarizing the events of the day as best I could. "Look Mrs Fortunado, my partner Luke and I are investigating a case involving the murder of Ms. Lauren Prescott. We feel the circumstances of her death were still rather vague, to say the least. The death of Harold Coelestis and his mother Lucy Coelestis have merely laid more credence to our theory. What we need right now is information. Anything you can offer at all would be vital to our investigation."

There was a silence as Mrs. Fortunado's glanced over us. "You're holding our money hostage?"

I was taken aback. She had tried to paint me out like I was the villain in this story. I adjusted my trench coat and produced the envelope once again. "This is merely a note announcing Harold's death and what Mrs. Fortunado is entitled to. The check will come at a later time, along with everything else you are owed." Perhaps it was an attempt at hospitality, but there were still a few unanswered questions and I would really like to get to the bottom of the case.

They spoke amongst themself in their own language I did not understand. Luke pulled me aside as they spoke.

"Cathy, you said we were just delivering a letter, not investigating Laurie's death."

"Luke, I know she was your sister but-"

"I won't stand for this. As her brother, I can't help you."

"She's not just your sister. She was your future wife's friend. I know you're worried about what you may find at the end of this, but as a detective you're required to search for the truth. If you can't do it as her brother, can you please do it as a Spectral Detective?"

There was a pause from Luke. As an only child I couldn't say I knew what he was feeling but I felt there was something Luke was keeping from me. He took a breath before finally asking. "Alright fine. But I just have one question."

"Anything."

"You said Harold and Misses C's death had 'laid more credence to our theory'. What exactly did you mean by our theory? What do you think happened on December 28th?"

Fortunately, before I could answer, Mrs. Fortunado turned to us.

It seemed her husband had primarily convinced her as she seemed to be in a more agreeable mood, as he was the one to speak. "Since you did help us with our ghost problem... helped our family... I suppose it is only right we uphold our end of the bargain."

"Ask me anything you-" She stopped. "And you're sure Harold Coelestis is dead?"

I nodded once before speaking. "Yes."

"Ask whatever you need to ask, and I will answer as best as I can."

I took out my notepad and a pen. Luke gave me a reluctant look but complied as well. A plain dark notepad and a rather fancy and ornate pen; I never quite noticed it, but for someone like Luke who dressed himself so simply the pen seemed wildly out of character. Nevertheless, that felt unimportant as I began my questioning. I wouldn't leave until I felt I had at last gained an accurate grasp of the events of the night.

Word Count: 1471

Foregone Conclusion

At last we had managed to get our interview with Mrs. Fortunado, the former headmaid of Coelestis Manor. Luke and I retrieved our notepads to write down anything of interest.

"Where were you on the night of December the 28th, 1964 between the hours of 4PM and 7:30?" I asked.

She scratched her head, unsure about it. "What day was that exactly?"

"A Monday." Luke answered quickly. I didn't have to ask him how he knew. That day was likely permanently burned into his mind.

"I worked at Coelestis Manor every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday until January 8th of this year."

"So you were working at Coelestis Manor then? How long were you there for on that day?" I asked

"I worked from 9AM to 9PM. I typically spend most of the day cleaning, doing the laundry, making beds, dusting."

"Did anything out of the ordinary happen on December 28th?"

There was a look of unease on Mrs. Fortunado's face. After a bit of quiet she spoke. "What do you mean by out of the ordinary?"

"Like, anything at all. Any loud noises or any unusual requests." Luke explained.

Mrs. Fortunado shifted uneasily in her seat. At last, Mr. Fortunado stepped up. "I think that's enough for right-"

His wife put up her hand, silencing her husband with just that motion. He gave her a look but Mrs. Fortunado didn't seem to notice. She seemed transfixed, looking at Luke's pen before asking one final question. "And you’re sure Harold Coelestis is dead?"

"He and his mother are both dead. They can't hurt you."

Luke gave me a dirty look following my last statement. "Really?" He asked, sarcastically.

She drew a deep breath before beginning. "I had just returned from grocery shopping when I heard it. A loud bang coming from Mr. Coelestis's study. Growing up in this neighborhood, I had already grown accustomed to hearing that sound, it was a gunshot."

I looked over at Luke. He seemed perplexed, still unwilling to face the ever closing reality of the situation.

"I tried to go check it out, but Mrs. Coelestis didn't allow any of us near the study. All the housekeepers, the cooks, the maids, the chefs were asked to leave immediately. They said we would be able to return in one week. After the week was done, our main task was to get rid of everything in Mr. Coelestis's study."

A look of dissatisfaction on Luke's face at hearing her task. "Was there anything weird about the study room? Like... anything missing?"

"I hadn't visited the Mr. Coelestis's office very often, and even if I had I didn't memorize every detail. Even so, there were already people working at getting rid of things by the time I got there so I didn't consider it too strange that anything was missing." She stopped for a minute. "Though now that I think of it, there was a painting there, and it had a new frame."

I instantly realized what painting she was speaking of. "The angel?" She nodded after I asked. I jotted this detail onto my notepad before asking my next question.

"What did you and the rest of the staff do with the items from Mr. Coelestis's office?" Though I had a feeling I knew the answer I still held onto a glimmer of hope.

"We mostly threw them away."

My heart sunk at hearing her words. But Luke seemed optimistic. "Mostly? So... you kept something?"

She seemed a little uncomfortable, but nevertheless continued. "Mrs. Coelestis said that after her husband's death she wanted the office empty because it reminded her too much of him. She told us we could keep a few things, if we wanted to. I choose three things."

My eyes widened, it seemed like just the thing needed to break our case wide open. Then again, after a moment I realized it'd be unlikely the things she picked up were of much use.

"Do you mind us asking, but what did you end up taking?" I asked.

She looked uneasy once more, before speaking. "Harold Coelestis and Mrs. Coelestis told us not to show these to anyone as long as they were alive. I suppose then... if they are really dead, as you say..."

"They really are." I reminded. Luke gave me another look.

"Then there is no harm in letting you know."

She stood up and left the room for a bit. I had hoped we weren't putting her kids through a difficult ordeal with all of this. I bent down to her daughter and spoke in my kindest tone of voice.

"Don't worry little one, we're not here to hurt your mother." Though I could tell from the expression on her face that she was more then a little worried. The small girl, I'd say no older then 3 years of age, clung to her dad's leg as I approached.

"She doesn't like new people." her father, Mr. Fortunado explained. "Don't take it personal."

"Yeah, Sofía's always like this." her brother responded before messing up the brown eyed girl's hair and laughing.

Just as that happened, their mother returned with a glass of water and a small statue of a dog in her hand. The statue was about a foot or so tall, and appeared to be made of some kind of marble. However, judging by the way she carried it with a free hand I had to venture a guess and say that it was hollow. She later confirmed this. The dog pictured in the statue appeared to be sitting.

"The first thing they allowed me to take was this statue. It was already lightly damaged so they were fine with letting me have it." She handed it to Luke, who quickly responded by giving the statue a light shake. A notable pinging noises was heard, there was something rattling inside. I made a mental note of it, before putting an actual one down on my notepad.

"You said it was already damaged. Looks fine to me." Luke began, rattling it once again.

"It has a hole at the top, near the base of the neck." I leaned over to get a better look and sure enough, there was a small hole at the base of the dog statue's neck. If I had to venture a guess, I would assume the hole was only about as big as the width of my own ring finger. And perhaps even then, slightly smaller.

To me the conclusion seemed obvious, but I didn't want to announce it in front of Luke. However, there was just one minor confusion. I had a feeling I knew what had caused the rattle and had caused the whole, but the question now was more why and how.

I broke the bit of silence before asking. "What were the other two things you were given?"

She produced an item from her pocket and I had to do a double take. I glanced at her pen, then at Luke's, before noting they were identical in every respect. I had to assume the pen was one of many mass produced pens but a second glance would suggest that this pen had an elaborate and highly detailed design near the top. The design appeared to have a flame motif on it, but otherwise it seemed to be an ordinary pen. She handed it over and I quickly scribbled on my notepad. It was black ink.

"The pen looks kinda like mine." Luke stated.

"Come to think of it, do you remember where it was you got this pen exactly."

Luke thought about it for a moment before answering my question. "I think I got it when we met Harold's dog. It was on Mr. Coelestis's desk. I guess I must have just slipped it into my pocket."

Overall, the second pen didn't seem to be much of interest. It was fancy and seemed rather expensive but beyond that seemed to house nothing of consequence. I offered it back but Mrs. Fortunado smiled. "You can have it."

"Thank you. And, what was the third thing you got?"

She seemed a little taken aback before turning to her daughter.

"¿Me prestas tu collar?" she asked. Her daughter seemed just as uncomfortable with the idea, before reaching for something at her neck. Her dad helped her before he handed it to me.

"A necklace." Luke concluded bluntly.

At first glance, I noticed it was mostly a small chain with a rather large circular item attached to it. "Not exactly" I remarked, taking a second look and noting the finer details of the circular bit on the chain.

"It's an engagement ring."

Word Count: 1446

Clarity

The third item retrieved by Mrs. Fortunado appeared to be a diamond engagement ring, not dissimilar from the one on my own hand. Luke leaned over to get a better look of the item, before announcing. "Is that an inscription?"

I nodded, before reading. "It says ''All My Love, All My Life. HC'... and then there's a little heart... 'LP'."

Luke looked stunned. The rest of the Fortunado family looked a tad worried at Luke's reaction. At last, he spoke. "So what does this mean Cathy?"

I looked at Luke, then back to my notes. I don't think I had the heart to look Luke in the eye as I explained it. "Think about it rationally Luke. We were originally lead to believe that Harold had proposed to Lauren, and in a fit of excitement she ran off to tell her brother and a close friend about it. As a short cut, she raced through a building her father owned and at that particular moment, an arsonist set fire to the building. However, Mrs. Fortunado found the ring while working at Coelestis manor, which means she didn't bring it with her to the Infinite Solutions building. Does that sound like the behavior of a happily engaged woman?"

Luke seemed stunned into silence as he finally began to realize what my theory is. Finally, Mrs. Fortunado spoke up.

"Listen, we gave you what you wanted. You can even keep the ring, the pen and the statue if you want. Can we have the letter now?"

I looked up from Luke. "Oh, I'm sorry." I gave a quick and nervous laugh before producing the envelope from my trench coat pocket. After it was quickly snatched away, I quickly deposited the pen and engagement ring into my pocket. The dog statue was in my left hand.

"Come on Luke, I'll drive you home." I suggested. "The Rolls Royce is parked just around the block."

Mrs. Fortunado stopped just as she was about to open the letter. "Wait... you parked a Rolls Royce in this neighborhood?"

I blinked, uncertain of what she meant. "Well, I had just received it. I mean... is there some problem with-" I stopped, realizing what she meant.

I quickly unbolted the door and made the quickest dash down the stairs I could manage. As I rushed outside, the lights within the tenement building began to flicker, perhaps a reminder of how unstable this neighborhood was.

Hurrying onto the streets - and narrowly avoiding one of those new Ford Mustangs, I reached Harold's Rolls Royce.

The former luxury call was now nothing but a shell of itself, literally. The hood had been removed, the doors were gone, the chairs were stolen, large portions of the frame had been removed, and what was left on the frame was proped up on white concrete cinderblocks. The entire car had been gutted beyond recognition. I stared at the remains of Harold's car horrified for a few second and at a complete loss for words, not sure where basic thievery ended and where savage vandalism began.

"I... H-... " I couldn't form a proper sentence. However I did manage to yell a few choice words, a few words that I'm rather ashamed to have used in public. Luke appeared on the scene shortly after I did, before my fist hit the hollow frame of what was left of the car.

"God damn it..." I whimpered, feeling absolutely low.

"H-hey... don't beat yourself up over it Cathy. If you really wanted a car, I could buy you one. One you can safely park in bad neighborhoods." Luke spoke in a reassuring tone, but he didn't seem to get it.

"It's not the car! It's... principle." I sighed. I never really cared much for Harold, but knowing he held me in such high esteem, and knowing that he had misplaced his faith in me had made me feel awful. If someone trusted you with their most prized possession and you broke it, through negligence or otherwise, I don't see how you could feel as anything less then the worst person in the world.

"If it's any consolation, it doesn't look like the car is completely destroyed." Luke reminded. He gave the trunk of the car a quick tap. I put the dog statue into what remained of the backseat and walked over. Approaching the rear of the car, I noticed the trunk appeared mostly intact. Judging by the scratches someone took a screwdriver to the lock, but overall it seemed still manageable. I reached into my pocket and inserted the key, a quick turn and I heard the clicking of the trunk unlocking.

However, I paused as a sense of trepidation filled me. My eyes surveyed the scene, looking around for a payphone before spotting one on the other side of the street. "Give Penny a call and tell her to pick us up." I stated bluntly. "And probably call up the police to process this scene."

Luke nodded and crossed to the other side, leaving me alone with the remains of Harold's beloved Rolls Royce.

Alone now, I surveyed the scene in disgust. Broken glass littered the area; scratches adorned the body work of the luxury vehicle. There was just one thing left to do, open the trunk. Nothing particularly impressive: just the spare tire.

"Well... one less tire to replace." I stated to no one in particular, a bitter tinge of sarcasm highlighting my words. I had barely even examined this car and yet my first and only memory of it would be how some scoundrels had broken into it and practically vandalized it. However as I surveyed the trunk, a thought occurred.

Most cars I drove had an extra compartment in the trunk underneath where the spare tire was stored, to leave the trunk area free. After straining to move the tire aside, my eyes spotted a few latches and in two quick movements I had opened the extra compartment in the trunk.

I hadn't noticed Luke approach me, but it seemed he and I both saw the same thing.

"Is that..." he began, a tone of confusion in his voice; a typical, unassuming and all black purse. However as I picked it up by the handle I noticed the bright red stain of blood.

My eyes widened as I stood mesmerized by the dark handbag. Luke gasped in horror as he realized the gravity of the item. "L-Lauren's?"

I quickly opened the purse, two items within. The first was a driver's license of a blonde woman. Her portrait carried an air of dignity and confidence. It was our friend, Lauren Prescott's. The second item in the purse was much more shocking.

"A... g-gun?" Luke was as pale as a sheet, and seemed sick to his stomach as well.

I wasn't an avid fan of guns, most likely the reason I couldn't 'cut it in the force', as they say. The pistol was quite small. The entire pistol, barrel and all, could be hidden by my gloved hand with little trouble. It seemed the gun someone would use only for close quarters, or if they were an expert marksman.

"I... I don't understand. Why would Laurie have a gun? What's going on? Cathy!"

I looked away, a feeling of regret had washed over me. Luke buried his face in my chest and began crying, miserably wailing as he realized what I had concluded earlier.

It didn't take someone of my level of deducting skills to put two and two together here. Harold's car held a blood stained purse that had once belonged to Lauren Prescott, and within that purse was what appeared to be final murder weapon. I had thought rather highly of that scumbag Harold, but alas it seemed the truth was inescapable. It was as I suspected all along.

Harold had murdered his fiancée, Lauren Prescott.

Word Count: 1319

Word Count: 5556

Edited by Hatcher, 12 March 2012 - 10:23 AM.

[Angel Lever]

The Anti-Climactic Ending. Chapter 6:

HC - E72PDN: Saturday, January 8th, 1966

Something Old

Every woman finds the day of her wedding to be unforgettable. I found mine to be unforgettable for an entirely different reason than one would expect.

It wasn't the ceremony itself that went off rather smoothly. A bit of cold feet from Luke and myself, but with Penny as my maid of honor and Marcel as Luke's best man, we both managed to pull ourselves together. Despite her own nervousness, Sister Johansen had conducted the wedding beautifully. I will never forget that day for as long as I live even without our wedding. I would have remembered it because it finally brought an end to the year of suffering Luke had experienced. It was the day we discovered the truth behind everything, the unfinished business of Rex Coelestis, the circumstances of the arson at Infinite Solutions, and most importantly the events of December 28th, 1964, the day Lauren Prescott was murdered.

The final case for Lauren's fate began at our wedding reception.

I still remember standing just outside the reception hall, still feeling rather light headed and in a bit of a daze. Luke and I awaited our cue anxiously before hearing Penny's voice.

"Ladies and gentlemen, for the first time ever, Mister and Misses Lucas Jerome Prescott and Catherine Alyson Prescott!"

All eyes were on us as we entered the reception hall. All of our friends and family, and even a small handful of people we had helped with our cases had gathered here today at our wedding reception. There was clapping, cheering, and even a few tears as we slowly made our way through the hall. We stopped occasionally and waved at the people holding cameras. Eventually we got to the main dance hall, a quick nod at the band before Luke and I began our first dance as a couple.

Jeremiah, whom we tutored in Algebra a little less then a year ago, insisted he and his band play at our wedding. We agreed to it, and our first dance was done while he and his band played a rather stirring rendition of "Can’t Help Falling in Love" by Elvis Presley.

There was a bit more applause after Luke and I shared a deep passionate kiss on the dance floor. I was never one for flashy displays of emotion in public so I tried to pull away a bit at the end. I did love Luke, I just wasn't particularly fond of showing it in public.

We took a seat at a nearby unoccupied table, and were quickly joined by Luke's best man and my maid of honor.

"So Luke, where are you and Cathy planning on going for your honeymoon?" My bridesmaid spoke. Penny Jove, our next door neighbor and my long time high school friend. I tried to get her into the business of paranormal criminology ages ago but she was hardly interested.

"Dad got us a vacation in Paris. It's in France." Luke remarked. A waiter came nearby and Luke and he shared a quick conversation. I assumed he had ordered food.

Luke's father seemed to look up at the sound of Luke's voice. He was sitting at the open bar, and gave a quick nod and a raised his glass before taking a sip.

"Oh that sounds like fun. I was actually born in Paris; truly a beautiful city." Luke had met Marcel while he investigated the disappearance of his sister. It's a shame they met under such terrible circumstances, but nevertheless the pair became rather close.

"But after that, we're diving straight back into this Lauren Prescott case." I stated simply. The waiter returned and offered Luke a bottle of champagne, along with 4 glasses. Luke poured for the 4 of us at the table as I spoke.

"We feel we're right on the edge of a major breakthrough in this case. I mean, just this week we-"

"Caaathy, it's your wedding! You can't take mind off cases and ghosts for even one night and just relax?" Penny put her hand on my shoulder and lightly shook me.

Marcel gave a quick laugh. "You know Cathy, she'll probably be working until the day her and Luke's first kid is born."

"It's what Lauren would have wanted." Luke stated, taking a drink. "Her last words to me: Justice. She wants us to find out who killed her and make sure they pay. As her brother... as her family, even if I was adopted, I need to make sure her last wishes are carried out."

There was a bit of a somber tone in the air at Luke's words, before I turned to Marcel. "Well then Officer Garnier," I gave a bit of a mocking salute. "Is there anything you can tell us we don't already know?"

Marcel gave a quick laugh before nodding. "Well, it's just like you thought Cathy, there was a bullet inside the hollow dog statue the Fortuado family gave you. We at the precinct ran a few tests and the bullet was definitely fired from the gun you found in Lauren's purse."

"So then, Harold shot Lauren?" Luke asked.

"Well here's the thing. We examined the blood from the bullet and compared it to Lauren's; definitely not a match."

And all at once I felt like I had the rug pulled out from under me. I felt so sure Harold had murdered Lauren, shot her and disposed of the body, but now I was feeling unsure. There was an air of uneasiness before a high pitched little girl's voice alerted me to a nearby visitor.

"Cathy! I was a good flower girl, right!?" Laminar, the extra small medium emerged, an overly cheerful smile on her face as she was grinning from ear to ear. She wore a pink dress with a small bow in her hair and still held the basket, despite lacking flowers.

"The best flower girl ever!" Penny stated, matching Laminar's enthusiasm point for point.

"Yeah, so good you should do it professionally instead of that abhorrent job of scamming people out of money." I stated bluntly and bitterly. I took a sip of the champagne Luke had poured for me.

"I quit being a Spirit Medium."

"You never were one to begin with." I muttered

"Good for you! A girl your age should be learning to read Shakespaere or something." Penny began, playing with Laminar's hair.

"We're actually learning penmanship!" Laminar said with pride, before awkwardly fussing with her fingers. "But teacher says my penmanship is-" she paused, channeling the words of her elementary school teacher. "un-status-factory."

"You should practice when you have free time," Marcel began. He uncapped a pen and began scribbling on a napkin, but it seemed his pen had run out of ink. "Cathy, got a pen?"

I searched my pockets and purse before recovering one. I paused for a moment, recognizing the pen as the one Mrs. Fortunado gave to me about two months ago. I shrugged and handed it off to Laminar. She smiled politely. "Thank you Misses Gibbs."

"Misses Prescott," Penny corrected with a bit of a laugh.

The youthful child then turned to Luke's best man. "Mister Garnier! Where's Leon?"

Marcel looked a bit confused as he scanned the crowd. "My son? He's probably at the kids table with José and Sofía." I followed his eyes and noted a small, rather curiously quiet child seated near the two hispanic children. He appeared to be around Laminar's age, and seemed to panic when he and his dad's eyes met. The boy blushed profusely and began to slink down into his seat.

"There he is!" Laminar stated excitedly with a giggle as it seemed she had seen him. The young girl took a step towards the children's table, and it seemed Marcel's son, was continuing to panic and gather his belongings.

"Don't be too mean to Leon, Laminar," Marcel called out to the young lady..

"I won't! I love him!" Laminar called out with a giggle, before hurrying to catch him.

We all had a bit of a laugh before Marcel spoke. "Leon's still in his 'girls are icky' phase so I don't think he really appreciates all of Laminar's affection."

I nodded, but my thoughts were still on Lauren's case. All this time I had speculated that Harold had shot Lauren, and shortly thereafter had dragged her body to the Infinite Solutions building that he now owned after his father's passing and set it on fire. They had a lovely scapegoat in Mr. Oskar Eidenberg, Laminar's father, who actually had been planning to burn down the Infinite Solutions bulding but backed out of it at the last second when he realized his daughter would grow up fatherless.

But there were two flaws with that. I hadn't quite pinned down Harold's motive for killing Lauren. Secondly, it seemed the one bullet fired from the gun hadn't hit Lauren after all. Was there something else I was missing? I thought about it for one moment longer, before a lingering bit of doubt had emerged. Lauren's unfinished business---

"Cathy!" I blinked to find Luke standing rather close to me. It seemed Penny and Marcel had already left while I was thinking.

"Oh? I'm sorry Luke."

"That's okay." Luke gave a quick laugh. "You were out for like..." he produced his pocket watch, the one given to him by Harold and gave it a quick wind. "4 hours!"

I rolled my eyes and gave a bit of a smirk. "You just changed the time right now."

"Well, I'm just letting you know the waiters were taking orders for dinner."

"Right." I flagged down a waiter and gave him my order, a steak, a salad, and a baked potato.

Though I had never been to a wedding reception, I has assumed that this was what a typical wedding reception was supposed to be like. I had every intention to let the night continue on without incident, but it that was not meant to be.

Word Count: 1665

Something New

Luke, Penny, Marcel and I were enjoying our meal when I heard the sound of Luke's father's voice.

"I can't let you keep that pen little girl. It has a dangerous knife hidden inside it when you twist it while pushing it down."

"Really?! Cool! I wanna see it!"

"No!"

I turned slightly to see sitting Mr. Prescott at the bar, with Laminar standing on a nearby stool. From the looks of it, I would guess Leon managed to escape her clutches, so now she was working on her penmanship as she promised. She seemed rather upset to have her pen taken away.

"This pen is really rare. It was custom built by a company in Germany and only two of them exist in the entire world." Luke's father stated, pocketing the pen. He could tell the girl was probably on the edge of crying so he produced another, slightly fancier pen.

"This however, is an even rarer, one-of-a-kind pen. It's from the same place I got the first one. You can have it."

Laminar's mood instantly shifted as took the pen excitedly and began scribbling.

I looked at Luke, Penny and Marcel and put my hand up slightly. They seemed to realize I was leaving the table and would not get offended.

I approached the scene of Laminar and Mr. Prescott. "Practicing to be a grandfather I see?" I asked with a bit of a laugh.

Lawrence Prescott responded with a laugh too. "Misses Prescott!" He stood and gave me a hug, then lightly teased my hair. "This little girl asked me grade her penmanship. We've been working really hard on it. Laminar was her name, right?"

"Yeah... but about that pen-" I stated before Laminar interrupted me.

"Look Mister Prescott!" Laminar held out the napkin she was scribbling on in triumph. "I wrote my name!"

She seemed unusually proud of her accomplishment, the words 'Ilsa Eidenberg' were written on the small paper napkin. To be fair, her penmanship did seem to improve. It was legible, to say the least.

"I'm gonna show daddy!" she said, a hint of pride in her voice as she skipped away.

Luke's father however did not share in Laminar's jubilation. His face turned red, and his brow furrowed, a mean spirited scowl etched itself on his face. I was unsure of the reason behind Mr. Prescott's anger, but he soon would let me and Luke know.

"Is that little girl's name Ilsa Eidenberg?"

"Who? Laminar? Yeah." Luke responded nonchalontly as he began to cut up his steak.

"As in the, daughter of Oskar Eidenberg? The Times Square Arsonist who murdered Laurie?" He stated angerily. It was now that I understood the situation. Everyone stopped what they were doing, and all eyes were on Mr. Prescott after his sudden outburst.

"Dad, calm down." Luke began, standing up.

"No I will not 'calm down' son." Mr. Prescott adjusted his tie, and relaxed his face somewhat, though still seemed just as enraged as ever.

"Is there a problem?" My eyes turned to the sound of the voice, a man with a thick German accent, messy dark hair, and holding Laminar. I had visited him in prison once before, to get his side of the story but seeing him a suit and tie felt absolutely surreal. Oskar Eidenberg stood, unflinching near the exit with his daughter in hand.

"You're damn right there's a problem here. You murdered my daughter for one you filthy scoundrel!" Luke's dad began walking towards him in an undeniable rage. He was only stopped at the last second by Sergei the Strong and the Barker, who also looked boldly out of charcter while wearing suits. They stood between the pair, to prevent the situation from escalating.

"Relax mac." the barker stated. "We're all gentleman here. We can settle our differences like gentleman."

"There is no difference to settle here. He murdered my daughter!"

I looked over at Marcel and sighed. He always knew the right things to say, but very often spoke them a little later then necessary.

"Excuse me gentleman." He tapped his knife against his wine glass so that a loud noise drew the eyes of the crowd.

"Catherine, Luke and myself had been investigating the case of Lauren Prescott for the better part of a year. If there's anyone who can help explain the situation, it's us."

Luke seemed strangely quiet, and I would later find out why. To him, family was everything. He spent a good portion of his childhood alone so when he finally was adopted, he would latch onto any family that accepted him and believe them above all else. It was why he had stayed so blind to the obvious for so long.

I nodded towards Marcel as I began to explain the events of the night.

"Mr. Eidenberg certainly did harbor ill will towards Infinite Solutions. He believed they were solely responsible for the death of his wife. He even did plan to burn the Infinite Solutions building to the ground that night."

I turned to face Mr. Eidenberg. "Isn't that right?"

Mr. Eidenberg seemed confused, and his daughter even seemed angry for a moment. However he stopped, realizing how I had helped him earlier. He gave a weak nod. "Yes."

"However, he had a last second change of heart. If he were caught, his daughter Laminar would grow up without any parents to take care of her. He hesitated and decided against it, the night before he was to set the building a blaze. However, it seemed even if he did plan it and was fully intent to torch the building, someone beat him to it."

"What a load of nonsense." Mr. Prescott began.

"The nun testified she had heard him plan it for December 29th. The building was set ablaze on December 28th."

"So he was a bit early. That doesn't mean a thing. He still killed Laurie."

I sighed. "Even if he commited the crime and did set the building on fire, he's not the one who killed Lauren in this. His crime was arson, and he already served his time."

"Oh like hell he has!" Luke's dad dove towards Mr. Eidenberg, and he even managed to get one good swing in before Sergei managed to pull him aside.

Things were growing very tense before Marcel interrupted. "Sorry to bring things up like this Mister Prescott, but Lauren didn't die in the Infinite Solutions."

All eyes suddenly turned to Marcel before he awkwardly put his hands in his pockets.

"A follow up investigation seems to indicate that Lauren was murdered somewhere, most likely in the house of Mister Harold Coelestis."

"That's complete and utter nonsense."

It seemed it was time to lay all my cards on the table. "Look Mr. Prescott. All signs seem to show that Harold is the one who killed Lauren, not Mister Eidenberg. We investigated further claims, and got Misses Fortunado to testify she heard gun shots coming from the study."

I gestured towards the older hispanic woman, but she seemed to not be a fan of the attention. She shifted awkwardly in her seat and gave a quick wave but overall seemed to avoid making any kind of eye contact.

"We found a bullet embedded in a statue in the study, her engagement ring in the study, and we found a blood stain in the trunk of Harold's Rolls Royce. It's an open and shut case. Harold shot Lauren, then dumped her at Infinite Solutions and torched the place to hide the evidence."

A serious scowl spread itself upon Mr. Prescott's face. A look that seemed to indicate he was far from done. He began to walk towards me.

"You know Misses Prescott, you weave an interesting tale but I assure you, it's nothing more then a tale." The way he spoke was icy and cold, adding extra emphasis on the 'Misses Prescott' part, as though he were mocking me.

"Your claim is that Harold shot my daughter, correct?"

"Yes, that's true."

"Where then did he get this gun?"

I opened my mouth as if to speak, but stopped as I realized his question he had me stumped. In truth I hadn't stopped to think it over until he brought it up.

"He was deeply in love with her too, wasn't he? A man doesn't buy an engagement ring for a woman he is planning on murdering."

I once again found myself questioning Harold's motives.

"Cathy, Luke, you two personally knew Harold. He wouldn't hurt a fly, much less the woman he loved. Stop this nonsense of dragging the Coelestis family name in the mud."

"Well maybe-" I stopped myself. I seemed to have a realization, but I wasn't sure of it. I couldn't present a half formed theory based on nothing but conjecture.

"There is no room for 'maybes' when a man's life is on the line. As a detective you should know that, Misses Prescott."

Luke's father once again walked towards Laminar's dad. Sergei and the Barker, and even Wendy seemed to stand up to block his path. However, he stopped in his tracks. "I just wanted to say, I am disgusted my own son would invite a cold blooded murder to his wedding."

"Excuse me Mister Prescott." It seemed officer Marcel had something to say. "Yeah, you wanted to know where the gun came from, right? We ran a background check on the gun in question. It was a Beretta 418 and it was registered to a Miss Lauren Prescott."

I paused, my head was spinning. I heard quiet murmurs from the group, then turned to Marcel.

"Why didn't you say that earlier?" I asked.

"Well, I thought you knew."

I paused, stopping to think of the implications. If it was Lauren's gun, and her blood was not on the bullet, the only conclusion that I could draw was that she shot someone else in the room. And if Harold was with her, perhaps it was Harold himself who was shot by Lauren? It would certainly open up the possibility of justified self-defense on Harold's behalf, but if that was case, how did he manage to kill Lauren while suffer from a bullet wound and more importantly, how did he manage to drive Lauren to her final resting place while in such a state?

The more we went forward, the less sense this case was making. Nevertheless, we had a duty to Lauren, to resolve her unfinished business. Her final words still rung in my ears: justice.

Word Count: 1760

Something Borrowed

I paused to gather my thoughts. I had long held the belief that Harold had shot Lauren, but upon learning the gun had belonged to Lauren, I had to take a step back.

"Why would Lauren own a gun?"

Mr. Prescott spoke up. "I can answer that. Lauren, a daughter of a wealthy entrepreneur, at times felt like she was being threatened. I couldn't blame her, as it wasn't out of the question that she may be kidnapped while in a rough neighborhood and held for a high ransom. While Lucas was studying abroad in Europe, Lauren decided to train in firearms - strictly for protection and self-defense, of course."

I blinked trying to wrap my head around and process all this new information.

"Well it's not something she would advertise Misses Prescott. But yes, she needed protection from any bad guys that would do her harm. I agreed with her line of reasoning and got her lessons, she supplied the pistol."

I was still perplexed as to what this sudden new bit of information revealed to us. I tried to make sense of it, walking through the logic out loud.

"Maybe Lauren... shot Harold? And... in a rage he-"

I was stopped by Marcel putting his hand on my shoulder. "Hey Cathy. Remember when I said the blood on the bullet was definitely not a match? I didn't mean 'it might belong to Harold'. We ran it against everyone connected to the case, the entire Coelestis family, the entire Prescott family, the entire maintenance and cleaning staff, and everyone at the Sideshow by the Seashore. Not only did the blood not belong to anyone in the case, the blood wasn't even human."

I had no idea what to make of this latest tidbit of information. I felt completely clueless about the situation. Fortunately for me however, Luke finally stopped to break his vow of silence.

"Did the blood belong to a dog by any chance?"

"The boys at the lab said the blood found on the bullet had 78 chromosomes, whatever those are. Humans typically have 46. They said the blood was most likely canine in origin."

It seemed at last there was the faintest bit of light at the end of the tunnel. I felt like at last we were on the right track to solving this case.

"So then... perhaps Lauren shot the beloved Coelestis family dog. This would give Harold enough motive to injury Lauren, I would think."

There was a bit of a laugh from the people at our reception.

"I'm serious. If Lauren shot Harold's dog Rex, I could certainly see that driving Harold to an inconsolable rage. His best friend had been killed by his future wife, and he had accidentally killed her in his grief stricken state."

I paused to think over what I had just said and as I thought it over I became more and more convinced. How else would a dog's DNA get on a bullet? But there was just one question, and it seemed Luke's dad had the same idea I did.

"Just why in the hell would Laurie shoot ol' Rex?"

It was a good question. A rational person wouldn't go about shooting a dog for no reason. "Maybe she had a good reason to shoot him? Maybe Rex bit her and-"

"Rex had more pedigree then you do, Misses Prescott. He wouldn't bite anyone unless he thought there was a danger to the Coelestis family."

The whole thing felt like an unsolvable puzzle to me. Lauren shot Rex, that much was certain. But she wouldn't shoot him unless he was presenting a risk to her life, such as by biting her. And he wouldn't be biting her unless she had already harmed Harold. As far as I knew, neither Harold nor Lauren bore any ill will towards each other, and if anything, Harold seemed to be deluded and in love with the woman. Harold had no reason to injure Lauren or Rex; Lauren had no reason to injure Harold or Rex; Rex had no reason to injure Harold or Lauren.

If no one had any reason to shoot anyone, then there was only one thing I could conclude. "Harold's dog Rex is dead, this is a fact. There was a bullet found in the Coelestis family that came from Lauren's gun that was stained with a canine's DNA. This is also a fact. From that we can reasonably conclude that either Lauren or Harold pulled the trigger. However, neither of them had a reason to kill this pooch. Hence, the only reasonable conclusion we can come up with is that Rex's dog was shot on accident. Then in his anger, Harold-"

"Let me stop you there for a second Gibbs." Marcel began. "There's two clear problems to your theory there."

"Cathy's wrong? I thought she was supposed to be some kind of super genius at this." Penny remarked.

"Firstly, the angle at which the bullet entered the statue seem to indicate it was shot from overhead."

I paused to think it over. "So then, the dog was held above the statue and then shot from overhead?"

Marcel nodded. "Secondly, even if Harold did kill Lauren, there's the question of 'how'. What was the murder weapon?"

Penny gave a bit of a smirk before turning to Marcel. "Aren't you and the rest of the NYPD supposed to be figuring that out? Don't they have autopsies for this kind of stuff?"

Marcel seemed a bit flustered, but managed to compose himself. "The body that was found in Infinite Solutions was so badly burned the cause of death could not be easily determined. She could only be identified by her dental records. Beyond the woman's identity, we could tell little else."

I couldn't answer his first question, but I felt the second one was easy enough. "The Coelestis Family seemed to be trying to hide the evidence of a crime that occurred in their house. They gave away items in the study that had incriminating evidence and bribed and threatened their staff not to contact the police according to the testimony of Mrs. Fortunado. The actual murder weapon could have been anything that would be found in a man's study: a letter opener, blunt force trauma to the head with any large object; really any number of things."

"I dunno Cathy." Penny began. "I mean, I'm not an expert on murders, but I doubt Harold was either. If I was a murderer, I'd probably keep the murder weapon to myself, along with any of the bigger pieces of evidence that would incriminate myself."

Penny had made a good point. And there was still the matter of the fact that a dog was held in midair and shot from above, which seemed to imply it was certainly not an accident. Someone had purposely gone out of their way to murder Rex Coelestis, which may or may not have lead to the murder of Lauren. Unfortunately, no one in the trio had any reason to injure the others.

I had ruled them all out as possible murder suspects before a quick realization came to me.

"Maybe..." I began. "What about… if there was someone else in the room beyond just Harold, Lauren, and Rex?"

"Just what are you getting at?" Mr. Prescott stated, as though he had just been insulted.

"Well, we all know Harold is far above harming anyone. I certianly couldn't imagine meek, quiet, indecisive Harold to pull the trigger... so to speak. If there was a third person present, I could certainly see a misunderstanding developing, depending on who it was."

"Is there any proof to that ridiculous claim at all, Misses Prescott?" Mr. Prescott seemed to be quite disgusted with what I had just suggested.

In hindsight, I would find his sudden outburst rather peculiar. He had dismissed my thoughts as opposed to agreeing with me and suggesting perhaps Harold and Mr. Eidenberg had teamed up, which seemed suddenly different to what he had suggested so far, but for right now it just shook me and made me feel less sure about myself. I felt like I was lost and adrift at sea. I was then I stopped, as though struck by divine inspiration at what I had finally remembered.

"Luke, do you remember when we met Lauren's ghost? As the boat sank do you remember her final words to us, on her unfinished business?"

"She said she wanted justice-"

"Sorry you guys, but the testimony of a ghost isn't admissible in court." Marcel stated simply, and rather glumly. "You're gonna need some real evidence."

"I know that Marcel, but just hear me out. If Lauren was after justice, then she's already gotten it if Harold was her one and only murderer. Since she didn't disappear after his death, the only logical conclusion one could draw was that Harold wasn't her only target that day. Lauren was out for revenge against someone..." my eyes widened in panic as a slow realization began to dawn on me. "else..."

I stood with my mouth agape and my eyes on Luke's dad, Lawrence Prescott. I felt lightheaded and sick and nauseous as I had finally discovered the cold, dark truth behind that night.

"It was you."

Word Count: 1550

Something Blue

There was a quiet murmur of voices, whispering and asking questions. By now all eyes were on the scene unfolding between myself and Luke's father.

"Catherine, are you-"

"It was you! You did it you bastard! You murdered your own daughter!" I was so overcome with emotions I could hardly control myself. I lunged at him, held back only by Luke at the last second. I managed to get a hold Mr. Prescott's tie and pulled down hard. I then felt Marcel and Penny pulling me back, before I

"Get a hold of yourself Misses Prescott." Luke's father adjusted his tie and stood up straight. He neatly combed a hand through his hair to straighten it out. "Don't forget you're in the presence of an officer of the law."

"Cathy, settle down please." There was a notable look of worry on Penny's face, though she still looked encouraging. "Why would you think Mister Prescott killed his own daughter?"

"It's l-like I said earlier." I took a seat, out of breathe and fanning myself for air. "Wh-when Luke and I met her ghost, she was jumping from person to person, possessing them. If killing her murderers was her aim, she had already accomplished it when she killed Harold. But after that, she possessed her mother and aimed a gun to her father. She wouldn't aim for Mr. Prescott without a good reason?"

Luke looked up and shook his head. The expression on his face seemed to show a notable look of dissatisfaction. "I'm sorry Cathy, but you're wrong." He stated it curtly in such a way as to imply he had nothing further to add. He simply rejected what I had suggested with no further thinking.

"... Is that all? You're just going to drop the issue after we've come this far?"

Luke stared at me, with large soulful eyes. I could tell he knew, but he didn't want to. "

"I think we're just about done here," Mr. Prescott began, a disgusted look about his face. "I am deeply disappointed in the both of you, Mister and Misses Prescott. I've treated the both of you as my own family, as though you were my own flesh and blood, and you repay me with accusations of murder?"

"As a police officer, all I can say is that it seems pretty likely that Lauren died in Coelestis Manor, and the Coelestis family was working hard to cover up her death. Whether her death was accidental or murder, I don't believe I can say." Marcel quickly took a sip of champagne nearby, not thoroughly convinced either way about the subject.

At this, Luke's dad looked to Marcel. "Saying that he gave away items doesn't prove they were covering up anything. They were a grieving family looking to get rid of the old relics that reminded them, that haunted them, of the death of the patriarch in their family. There's nothing at all heinous about giving things away. It was Mr. Coelestis's office; naturally the whole room was filled with harsh reminders of the one they lost."

I was so certain of Mr. Prescott's guilt, but I had no way of proving it. Everything I brought up he had managed to explain away. All I could do was go over what I knew: Rex was shot, most likely intentionally; Lauren was dead. And lastly…, lastly-

"In any case, you haven't even proven she was killed in Coelestis Manor. All you have is the flimsy testimony of a woman who can barely understand English." I glanced at Mrs. Fortunado. She seemed a mild mix of annoyed and discouraged. "She claims she heard a shot? How can you prove that any crime had occurred in Mr. Coelestis's study? You say they hid the evidence? I say there was nothing to hide."

"What about the blot of red blood in Harold's car!?"

I turned to Marcel and gave him a skeptical look. He seemed a tad confused before giving a quick nod. "Yeah. Lauren's."

A serious scowl spread itself on Mr. Prescott's face. "That merely indicates his car was used, but says nothing about the study room."

I paused to think. I distinctly recall a patch of red in the study room, but at the moment I hadn't realized it. Only now did it all finally click together.

"Her blood was there. It was on the red stained portrait!"

The bright red glass over the painting of the angel; the only reason someone would produce such a hideous design choice would be if they had something to hide.

"We both know that portrait is at the bottom of the sea, Misses Prescott." He spoke in an unamused voice, his hand on his chest before a bit of a smile spread upon his face.

"That doesn't change anything. Luke saw it, I saw it, and I'm willing to bet the people in charge of the framing place had seen it too! They'd likely just dismiss it is a stray splotch of red paint."

"So what you're saying is," The expression on Lawrence's face was rather frightening. A serene yet stern look about his face, like the look of a prized fighter about to deliver the knockout punch. "The person who was responsible for taking care of the frame was most likely the murderer, correct?"

I thought for a moment. Nothing struck me as off about his logic. "The only people who have an incentive to hide a crime are the people who committed it. It-"

"Is that so?" A truly twisted and rather cruel and vindictive smile on his face seemed to form.

At last Luke stood up, a notable hint of concern to his voice. "Dad? Are you-"

Mr. Prescott reached into his suit, producing an plain white envelope. "Tell me then, what do you think would be the quickest way to prove someone were responsible for getting a painting framed?"

I was unsure of his question, certain he was leading me into a trap. "Having never purchased a frame for a painting, I wouldn't-" I paused as my eyes caught his. "No..." I whispered.

"Ah but Misses Prescott, you and Mister Prescott have purchased a frame before, have you not?" He opened the contents of the envelope, revealing it for all the world to see. He graciously handed it to Marcel.

"Two checks. Cathy and Luke. Dated February 10th, 1965." He announced simply. He looked over the invoice. "February 13th, work was done for a frame and for glass work, specified as being tinted red."

Marcel narrowed his gaze onto me and Luke.

"W-wait!" I insisted. "The frame was already tinted red. Luke accidentally broke it and we had to pay for a replacement. Right Luke?"

Luke seemed off in a dream-like trance. It was unlikely I'd get an answer from him right now.

"You can't prove that Misses Prescott." Mr. Prescott announced smugly. "Someone was guilty of the murder of Lauren, and they had to make sure no one would find out. The person who hid evidence from police was the one who killed her, and it is you both who paid to have the picture framed!"

"Reframed!" I added extra emphasis to the first syllable. "The red tinted glass was already set up before we got there!"

"A likely story Misses Prescott, but again. You can not prove it."

A quiet murmur of voices. I knew that none of our friends and clients believed him, but at the end of the day it wasn't what you knew but what you could prove, and Luke's father clearly had the better proof. He had likely planned this from the start, having brought those documents in advance.

"Dad! Why... why are you- you did it... didn't you? You killed Lauren." His mother and sister dead, the last member of his family had turned him away. Luke broke down and began to sob miserably.

Marcel put a hand on my shoulder. "I know we're friends, but this is definitely something we'd need to investigate further. You two have to go down to the station for questioning. Will you go quietly?"

"L-Luke..." it hurt to watch him cry. It hurt to see it all end this way, with her murderer getting away and her best chance of being avenged being the prime suspects. But worst of all, it hurt to know that we had all let Lauren down.

Word Count: 1408

And a Silver Sixpence in her Shoe

I didn't know what to say. Heck, what could I say? We had come so far but it was all for naught. The true murderer of Lauren Prescott looked like he was about to walk away freely and I, the one in charge of finding the truth was being carted away as a suspect.

"Y-you're not even going to look into Luke's dad?" I was shaking, bordering on tears as Marcel lead me. He shook his head glumly.

"No evidence. Now Cathy, will you go quietly?"

"I... I..." I stammered before glancing over to Luke. His expression was blank and he appeared completely broken, disillusioned with what he believed his family to be.

Marcel began to usher Luke and I towards the exit of the reception hall. I thought our entrance was slow, but our exit was absolutely heartbreaking. The faces of all the other people lining both sides of the reception hall, disappointment in their eyes, either directed towards Mr. Prescott or because they believed him, I could not say for sure. Right at the exit stood the man himself, Luke's father. Still a smug look on his face as though he won.

"Mr. Prescott and Harold were the one hiding evidence, not Cathy and Luke!" Laminar spoke with such determination in her voice I stopped to think it all over.

The Coelestis family had given away much of the items that were in the office, many of them useless and not helping the investigation in any way. But statues and art weren't the only things Harold ever gave away. A treasured and beloved Coelestis family heirloom was in Luke's pocket. And I'd bet anything meek little Harold didn't exactly die with a clear conscience.

"Just a reminder Cathy, but you do have the right to remain-"

"Harold Coelestis! We humbly request an audience!"

It felt like time slowed down after the words escaped my lips. It couldn't have been longer then a second or two, but it felt like a lifetime had passed between my speaking and the time the first light began to fade. At far, far side of the hallway outside the reception hall I saw a faint flickering of a chandelier before the light went out. Then the next one, closest to us. Like a set of carefully placed dominoes, the lights went out one after the other, and a blast of cold air enveloped us. All points of light seemed to converge onto Luke, until the light near him died down as well. The sudden change in ambience occurred in less then a second, but still it felt like considerably longer. My heart skipped a beat as I looked at Luke.

Luke too seemed alerted at what had occurred. He reached into his pocket, and produced his pocket watch from within. It had a peculiar, otherworldly glow to it. It was only as he pulled it out that I remembered how much Harold treasured the keepsake from his father. In the next instant, the white glow seemed to jump from the watch to floating in midair before us. It quickly began to take the shape of a translucent young man, dark in hair and stout in build.

The rest of the crowd looked on in amazement, not particularly frightened as most of them had seen me summon a ghost before.

"Cathy. Luke." His voice strained to speak, before his eyes landed on Luke's dad. "Mister Prescott."

The look on Mr. Prescott's face was one of worry and disbelief. His face twisted to one of horror.

"H-Harold Coelestis! I suspect your unfinished business has something to do with Lauren Prescott? If so, please tell us everything you know!"

The heavy set ghost looked over to me and gave a weak nod.

"When I was younger, I fell in love with the young Lauren Prescott. My love for her was deep and unwavering, even... even after all that's happened I still love her. But because I did not know if she felt the same way I could not tell her. After my father succumbed to lung cancer... Mister Prescott..."

"He's lying!" Mr. Prescott snapped.

"Harold doesn't have any reason to lie." Luke remarked quickly. "He's dead, and he has no family left." He raised a brow towards his father before continuing. "He has no reason to try to "save face" because with no family the opinions of the living won't affect him."

"Nor will their threats." I added pointedly.

"M-mister Prescott told me how Lauren loved me, but couldn't let me know without her father's blessing. So, we made a deal. He'd help me hide my father's will, behind a painting. With no will, all of his shares in Infinite Solutions fell to me. Lastly, I would trade my shares to him for his daughter's hand in marriage."

My eyes widened, stunned at such a deal taking place "B-but Lauren was a human being, not an item to be traded and sold to the highest bidder!" I exclaimed.

"Sh-she felt the same way." Harold stated glumly, looking down and deeply ashamed. "I was assured that she loved me. I guess I wanted to believe it, and believe everyone would be happier and well off this way. But Lauren... she didn't love me back. That n-night when she died, I had worn my nicest suit and bought her a bouquet of flower. Luke's father was with me too. After we told her our plan... she flipped out. Overcome with emotion she reached into her purse and pulled out a gun. And when ol' Rex saw that... he knew he had to stop her."

I recalled our meeting with Harold's ghost dog, his unfinished business was resolved as the painting was taken away. I realized Rex's unfinished business was to protect the family from Lauren's anger, unfortunately the painting that housed Lauren's spirit would only be gone temporarily.

Harold's ghost seemed physically sick, overcome with emotion and severely troubled to bring this all to light. He took a moment before speaking again. "But... R-rex couldn't stop her. As he clamped down on her arm, Lauren positioned her pistol over his head and she... she..." He stopped, breathing heavily. "But that wasn't even the worst part. As my dog collapsed in a heap, dead, Luke's father took the initiative to... finish the job. While she was distracted by the dog, he stepped forward and... and... she was gone. He..."

Harold closed his eyes, unable to look either Luke or myself in the eye.

Luke seemed absolutely stunned before he spoke once more. "How did she die? How did... how did he kill her?"

"It all happened so fast. All I remember was a blur and then he hit Lauren in the stomach. I think he might have stabbed her."

I stopped to think it over. There weren't too many objects with a sharp point that

"Lauren stumbled backwards, her blood staining the portrait that hung behind her before she fell to the ground. M-mister Prescott told me he'd take care of everything. He also... w-warned me he'd turn me into the police if I told anyone else. I've been living with this guilt for so long..." He paused, a bit of a smile spreading on his face. He began to glow brightly and even gave a bit of a laugh. "It feels good to... to get that off my chest. I know what I did can't ever be forgiven, but I know if anyone can end this, it's you two..."

As he spoke, he grew more and more transparent, harder and harder to see and his voice grew quieter and quieter. "Good... luck."

And all at once, the chill in the air dissipated, and all the lights turned back on. The entire room was stunned into silence, but Luke's father seemed unusually calm.

"Well?" I asked.

"Well what?" He responded nonchalantly.

His response drew a wave of uproar from the other guests at our wedding.

"He had the audacity of accusing me, when he knew all this time!?"

"To think I worked on my penmanship with him!"

"Mira pero que cabrón para tan infeliz."

"Are we done here?" Luke's father stated calmly, adjust his hat.

"The only one 'done' here is you, Mr. Prescott."

"You have nothing on me."

I was floored by his response, even after all that just occurred. "We all just heard-

"You forgot the officer's words haven't you?" A smug smirk spread on his face. I glanced over at Marcel.

He seemed so downtrodden, so hurt by what he had just realized, and what he would have to deliver. "The testimony of a ghost-"

"- Can not be used as evidence in court. You may think I killed Lauren Prescott, but with no murder weapon, you've all got nothing." He gave a quick laugh, before readjusting his hat. "Now I bid you all goodbye."

My final act had bought us time and won our own freedom, but without any cold hard evidence there was nothing I felt I could say or do.

"Wait." Luke began.

His father looked up, a mild disinterest in his eyes. "I wonder... how did you stab Lauren?"

"I refuse to answer any such question son. Now please, I must be on my-"

"That pen you got from Laminar. It has a secret knife in it, right?"

Mr. Prescott's face became white, before he adjusted his tie and seemed to return to normal. "It's my pen. I have no reason to give it to you, if that's what you're implying. You can consider it gone forever."

"Did you make sure to clean the blood off before you capped it?" Luke spoke with a bit of a detached tone to his voice, eyes at the ground and not even looking at his dead.

"I'll examine my pen on my own, in private." He stated bluntly.

"Interesting. Are you sure that's your pen though? You told Laminar only two of those custom built pens exist in the world. Do you know who has the other one?"

My eyes widened, realizing what was going on. "Luke..."

"You wouldn't-" Mr. Prescott exclaimed through barred teeth.

"You and Mr. Coelestis were the only two people who knew about this pen's secret. The only ones who could have possibly used it as a knife." From out of his inner coat pocket came the second pen. As brilliant a design as ever.

He pushed both parts of the pen together and gave a twist. It seemed to all come apart in his hands, as the secret blade was revealed. The entire hall of people drew a collective breathe as they waited in anticipation to see the final piece of evidence. There, on the very tip of the secret blade was a stain of dried blood.

"As the only one who knew about the knife, there can be no doubt." Luke began.

"You, Lawrence Prescott are indeed the true murderer of Lauren Prescott!" I exclaimed.

The crowd was stunned into silence, as was Mr. Prescott. He seemed drained, emotionally, physically, and completely broken down. It was as though he aged twenty years in a flash, a shell of his former self. Faced with such overwhelming evidence there was little he could do but admit the truth.

"Y-yes. It's true. I killed my daughter, Lauren Prescott." No emotion to his words, just detached hollow meaning. The finality to his words made me realize he was only just now coming to grips with what he did.

With nothing left to be said, Marcel took the broken and beaten down man to the precinct.

Though we manged to solve the case of Lauren's murder, in doing so we had discovered the ugly and frightening truth behind Luke's family. Even despite everything we went through, we shared no regrets about or investigation. Luke and I both knew that as long as there were still ghosts with unfinished business we had to do everything we could to help them. For now we were content with the knowledge that we had at last laid Lauren's troubled soul to rest, and hopeful with the knowledge we'd help others later on.

Word Count: 2071

Word Count: 8454

Final Word Count: 34052

Edited by Hatcher, 05 April 2012 - 03:32 PM.

[Hatcher]

Blast from the past with an epic necrobump!

Cleansed - The Spectral Detectives is now... ready to be read by other people? >_>

Please read and review please.

[6-Shot Finale]

This was posted three weeks ago? I did not even notice this until today. Oh well. Unless you edited anything drastically I've already read the chapters here and a few ahead. I think you have to stop dissing your own work so much. I actually enjoyed what I've read and am looking forward to future chapters.

[Hatcher]

This was posted three weeks ago? I did not even notice this until today. Oh well.

It was posted and hidden, because I asked other mods to proofread and also because I wanted to have the first six posts all to myself. I unhid it today. You can see it in the Update Schedule

Unless you edited anything drastically I've already read the chapters here and a few ahead.

I don't remember which version of the story you've read though. Err... I believe the few changes I've made:

1: Instead of randomly pulling 'Infinite Solutions?!' out of her ass and then having it answered in the second chapter, it's answered in the second paragraph.
2: Stuff with Father McCrimmon was changed. I changed his motives and unfinished business like 4 times. No idea which one you read.

I think you have to stop dissing your own work so much. I actually enjoyed what I've read and am looking forward to future chapters.

> Thinks it's good
> Only read the first two chapters.

I dunno, I never really think the stuff I write is any good. But this aint a pity party. I'm glad you enjoyed it, and I'll try to finish up the last 3 chapters.

[6-Shot Finale]

It was posted and hidden, because I asked other mods to proofread and also because I wanted to have the first six posts all to myself. I unhid it today. You can see it in the Update Schedule

Oh.

I don't remember which version of the story you've read though. Err... I believe the few changes I've made:

1: Instead of randomly pulling 'Infinite Solutions?!' out of her ass and then having it answered in the second chapter, it's answered in the second paragraph.
My memory is terrible. i'll probably have to at least reread that part.
2: Stuff with Father McCrimmon was changed. I changed his motives and unfinished business like 4 times. No idea which one you read.
Some arsonist confessed to him and the father wanted to make it known about his attacks without directly telling the protagonists.

> Thinks it's good
Said I enjoyed.
> Only read the first two chapters.
Enjoyed what I read.

I dunno, I never really think the stuff I write is any good.
Well who does?
But this aint a pity party. I'm glad you enjoyed it, and I'll try to finish up the last 3 chapters.
I'll be looking forward to them.

[Twig]

I also read the old version. I've like the changes. The old one wasn't very exciting, and its climax was weak. I liked how you've made it much more dramatic.

There's lots of action, yes, but from a first person point of view, I expected more emotion. I feel that it changing it to third person wouldn't make a difference. First person point of view stories should make the character connect to the main character.

[Hatcher]

There's lots of action, yes, but from a first person point of view, I expected more emotion.

Prepare to be disappointed as the story continues then. o_0

Err... Cathy is very 'detail oriented' and as such she tends to not be overtly emotionally.

In any case, why would she be overtly emotional in the first chapter? This is just business to her, her job. I mean... I recognize the criticism, that a first person story typically delves deeper into emotions, but she's pretty reserved when it comes to that kind of stuff.

In any case, thanks for reading, and I'm glad you enjoyed the first chapter.

I also read the old version.

There is no 'the!' old version. There's at least 5 different versions of that first chapter; three of them I've given to others to read, one that I kept to myself because it was honestly THAT bad, and the one I posted here. I believe there's three versions of the second chapter, but the changes are far more subtle.

[Twig]

Prepare to be disappointed as the story continues then. o_0

Err... Cathy is very 'detail oriented' and as such she tends to not be overtly emotionally.

In any case, why would she be overtly emotional in the first chapter? This is just business to her, her job. I mean... I recognize the criticism, that a first person story typically delves deeper into emotions, but she's pretty reserved when it comes to that kind of stuff.

Well it's not like I'm asking for actions of emotion. Maybe just more of her thoughts. Actually, I've realized that the writing style you've chosen makes it so there's less relation to the character since there's less establishment. I honestly do feel that I've skipped a few chapters of a book and started reading at that spot. Well I guess I can accept that characterization will be more spread out. I'll just wait for more chapters to see how it plays out.

[Hatcher]

I honestly do feel that I've skipped a few chapters of a book and started reading at that spot.

That is the intended effect! =D

Err... the 'backstory' was always thought to be, Cathy and Luke take (approximately) one case a week. Cathy writes down all her thoughts and notes about her case in her notepad. Then at some point later down the road she compiled it into an anthology.

Lastly, some other outside party decide to collect the 6 of them that compiled one larger case and compile them into this story. They all start right before the beginning of a case.

All of them sort of have a 'sudden-ness' to them, or at least, that's what I'm aiming for. Like I said earlier, it's because they're all meant to be episodic.

[Hatcher]

Now with twice as many (complete) chapters, and none of that silly "quality" thing! =D

[Dr. Cakey v2.22]

O
M
G

It vrey good. Very very good. Definitely want to read more. I like how each of the cases are subtly linked to one another.

[Twig]

I liked it. Although the latest three chapters were not "OMGTHISISAMAZING", the foreshadowing of the dog was interesting. I was actually hoping they would keep the dog and he would become part of the group. D=

Also, is there any point to these odd things?:

TM - 145W46:
RC - 4GWDR:

[Hatcher]

I was actually hoping they would keep the dog and he would become part of the group. D=

That's the first time someone's mentioned that and it actually might be a kind of clever enough idea. But I lose track of Luke enough in stories I don't know how well randomly adding a ghost dog in would be to all of it.

In any case, Cathy would most likely do her best to get rid of it. She feels it's her duty and obligation to help all ghosts (dog or not) cross to the other side, and would consider herself a failure if she stumbled upon a ghost and she couldn't help it cross.

Also, is there any point to these odd things?:

TM - 145W46:
RC - 4GWDR:

It might become more clear when more chapters are present. But beyond that, I'll refer you to note 1:

"1- Since it's a poorly written detective story written for and primarily aimed at stupid 12 year olds, if you figure out all the plot twists beforehand please try your best to put speculations in spoiler tags."

[edit]

Since the story is done, I suppose there's no harm in explaining it. But spoilers anyway, for anyone still reading.

spoiler

First two letters = Initials of the ghost they encounter in that chapter
Last bunch of randoms = Shorthand of the address in which the story takes place (except Chapter 4)

1: TM - 145W46 = Timothy McCrimmon - 145 West, 46 street
2: RC - 4GWDR = Rex Coelestis - 4 GateWay Drive
3: MF - B47 = Magaret Filler - Beach 47 street
4: LP - 1300MA = Lauren Prescott - 1300 Maine Avenue (It's the address of the Marina they were to dock in)
5: ZM - 108OS = Zoila Martinez - 108 Orchard St
6: HC - E72PDN = Harold Coelestis - East 72nd St, Park Drive North

[/edit]

O
M
G

It vrey good. Very very good. Definitely want to read more. I like how each of the cases are subtly linked to one another.

Glad you liked it.


SPOILERS! Chapter 3 doesn't link so well to the previous 2. But it does link into the fourth, and the fourth links heavily into the first two (specifically the second one).

Edited by Hatcher, 06 April 2012 - 07:23 AM.

[Dr. Cakey v2.22]

Oh, also...



And...

[Hatcher]

Story is now at it's halfway point. Most likely gonna take a one week break to get myself sorted out before delivering the final 3 chapters.

So... like... yeah. o_0