Phasmatta - ch 10-

Ryan ran a hand through his hair and put the cell-phone down.

The coroner hadn’t been helpful at all.

If anything, Ryan felt more certain that there was far more going on here than he first believed. That things were most certainly not what they seemed.

The coroner had offered nothing at all about detective Mullins.

He claimed no knowledge, no memory, no ability to recall a single thing.

Despite the fact that the man had clearly known the name Vern Mullins and was able to recall the detective when Ryan started leading into the inquiry.

He’d done it by trying to pump for general information before he asked about the death of the man. Asking him if he could provide information about his work with the detective and the coroner had done so.

The coroner had seemed a touch skittish at first but Ryan had led the conversation into the coroner’s own work and how it intersected with the detective.

Because people always loved to talk about themselves, their jobs, their own lives, anything about them at all, in fact.

Yet the coroner went dumb when asked about the detectives death.

Dumb and hurried.

To the point that he’d more or less hung up on Ryan claiming he had to go for dinner, that he was retired now, and all questions should go to the current coroner.

“He wasn’t exactly my friend but we’d worked together a good bit,” Mullins rumbled from where he sat on the couch. “Enough that I can tell he’s got knowledge about my death but he’s not gonna talk about it. Man’s as ornery as a mule with a stone in his hoof. Until he’s decided you’re allowed to remove it, you’re not touching him, the hoof, or the stone.”

“Yeah,” grumped Ryan, then sighed. “That leaves your daughter, I guess. If she doesn’t have a lead or a direction, we’re going to have some issues, I think.

“Because I can’t just go tot he police and demand to look at what they have on your death. That’d just alert them and cause red flags to go up.

“I mean, what police precinct wants a new citizen start poking around the death of a cop that has clearly been altered.

“They wouldn’t and thye’d immediately go on the defensive.

“Bad enough we had to call the coroner. If we’re truly unlucky he’ll go run his mouth to the police chief.”

“Maybe,” Mullins allowed with a slow nod of his head. “He never really liked the chief but it’s definitely possible. Thought he was too young for the job given the coroner was a good bit older than him.

“Everyone was younger than Crowley, though. Hard not to be. Hell, the man was older than the cap when I first joined the force.”

“Then… he definitely knows what happened to you,” Ryan supposed and scratched at his cheek. “Carl, I still have my perk point, right?”

“Of course!” answered Carl immediately. “Do you know what you want?”

“Any extra sensory stuff? Let me see the history of an item? It’s past?” Ryan asked.

“Nope. That isn’t part of the lists you’re allowed to see,” Carl answered brightly followed with a laugh. “You’re not an ESPer.”

Ryan hadn’t gone through the perk list, but he just couldn’t shake the desire to get the Mage-Blood perk.

“Wait,” Ryan blurted out and looked to Carl. “What kinda perks do I have access to in regards to the dead? The after? Anything that’d let me see where a body is? How they died?”

Carl turned his head an dmet Ryan’s gaze and held it for several seconds. Then blinked and shook his head.

“Not yet,” replied Carl in a way that sounded quite grave.

Wincing, Ryan sighed and leaned back in his seat.

“Nevermind then, I’ll just.. I don’t know. They’re neat but nothing jumped out at me as helping me right now,” grumped Ryan.

From what he’d seen, the perks could be useful, but many of them required preparation and hope that it’d be useful in the future.

“I mean, finding the magical perk point, special ability, at just the right moment, at just the right time, is the thing of silly books and stories. Anime and manga,” countered Carl. “If you could always get a perk related to the situation at hand, it’d be strange. Wouldn’t it?”

“Fine, whatever. Let’s call your daughter, Mullins,” suggested Ryan with a click of his tongue. He picked his phone back up and punched in the number that’d been on the records he’d received.

Tilly Mullins, unmarried, thirty-four. She’d moved over the border to Virginia.

“Hello?” answered a female voice after it rang several times.

Ryan mentally spaced out as he’d been prepping himself to leave a voice mail given how many times it’d rang.

“Yes,” he said, his brain finally catching up. “Yes, hi. Hello, uh… my name is Ryan Hale. I’m-well-that is-I’m a private investigator. I’m working on the murder of your-your father. Vern Mullins.”

The woman said nothing though Ryan heard her breath hitch.

“I uhm-I found his badge,” Ryan started again. This had always felt like the weirdest part to confess to, but he needed to get it out up front before she heard it from others. Or looked him up.

There was no doubt in Ryan’s mind he’d show up in web searches from his old company. It’d almost certainly include his designation and title.

Cindy had been quite prideful of her business and had an entire company profile and the like.

“I found his badge and I was able to speak with your father. Detective Vern Mullins,” Ryan hedged. “He’s in fact beside me right now. I know he was a fairly devout roman catholic and he isn’t exactly happy being a ghost rather than his afterlife but… he’s here and positive he was murdered.”

“Murdered,” whispered Tilly. She sounded absolutely floored but not surprised. “He’s… you claim he’s next to you. Then tell me why my mom divorced my dad. The real reason.”

Ryan looked to Mullins and grimaced.

“She wants to know the real reason you and your wife divorced,” Ryan asked him.

“I-ahhh… we cheated on each other. Nearly at the same time,” Mullins said with a shrug of his shoulders. “I was seeing an EMT and she was seeing… seeing… Tilly’s vice-principal. Of her school.”

“Uh, he said they were both cheating. He was with an EMT and your mom was with the Vice-principal,” Ryan relayed.

“No,” gasped Tilly over the phone. “No! That-no. No. No.”

“I mean, she asked the real reason. I thought she knew. She met the EMT. Often. Mirella,” Mullins growled with a shake of his head.

“Mullins said it was Mirella and you’d met her,” Ryan stated.

“I’m coming to you. Right now,” hissed Tilly. “We are not having this conversation any further except in person. Tell me your address. Right now, Ryan Hale.”

Wincing, Ryan sighed, then read off the address to her.

No sooner than the last digit of the zip code was given, then the line went dead.

“We’re going to have company,” Ryan warned Mullins, looking his way. “She is very… stubborn.

“Though how did you and your wife manage to cheat on each other at the same time? That almost doesn’t make sense.”

Vern shook his head, sighed, and looked at the ground. He looked like a man who didn’t know the answer to the question asked.

Despite the fact that he and his wife were the only two who could.

“Got married young,” Vern muttered and shrugged. “I worked a lot. She was home a lot. Didn’t see much of each other. Ended up drifting away from one another.

“And no, Mirella and I didn’t work out. Ended up going separate ways. I was single when I died.”

Right.

Sounds like a man living a ghost of a life long before he lied.

Ryan didn’t like that he likely would’ve identified with this man only a few months ago far more closely than he did today.

***

Chewing at the rather sad excuse for orange-chicken, Ryan watched the tv.

It was a west-coast baseball game that was late in the game and deep in extra innings. The ghost runner put on second during the change-over was playing hyper-aggressive and keeping the pitcher and catcher on their toes.

Ryan’s phone rang and he looked at it. He saw it was Tilly.

“I’m heading up now, I’ve got a gun, and my kid,” growled the woman after Ryan accepted the call and before he could even say a greeting. “If that’s unacceptable to our conversation, you can just tell me now and I’ll turn around and drive back home after I visit my mom since I’m here.”

Uh.

“Kay,” Ryan mumbled and stood up. “That’s—”

The phone hung up and Ryan heard two thumps on his front door.

“Mullins, your daughter is a damn hellion,” Ryan accused with a glance at the detective as he went to the door.

“Yeah. I’m pretty proud right now,” Mullins admitted with a smirk.

Snorting, Ryan undid the lock, pulled the door open, put his hands up, and backed all the way back up to the couch.

Sat himself down in it and started eating his dinner again.

All the while watching Tilly at the door.

In front of her was a little girl perhaps six or seven years old.

Tilly’s right hand was stuck in her purse and Ryan had the distinct impression she was gripping a pistol in it and had it pointed at him.

“Hi, hi, come on in. I don’t have much to offer but the kiddo can have my fortune cookies,” offered Ryan, taking a mouthful of his food. He paused midchew and swallowed hard. “They always give me stomach problems. No idea why.”

Tilly looked inside, left, then right, then back to Ryan.

She eased her kid forward, entered the apartment, and closed the door behind herself.

“Vern said he’s proud of you for being a hellion,” Ryan said and looked back to the TV. The runner on second had made it to third but the batter had been thrown out at first, ending the inning

“I mean, yeah,” Tilly grumbled and eased her daughter around to one of the chairs, never looking away from Ryan. “You said you had his badge.”

“Figured you’d want to see that,” confessed Ryan. He pointed to the counter behind Tilly. “It’s right there. I put it down in the kitchen. Mullins said he wanted to snoop around into the other apartments and parking lot and he can’t get too far from it. It’s his anchor.”

Mullins didn’t actually say anything to either Ryan’s comment, or Tilly’s response. He was in fact kneeling down in front of the girl.

Which would be his granddaughter.

“Oh sweet Mary she’s got my mother’s face,” whispered the detective.

“Vern said your daughter has his mother’s face,” Ryan offered and went back to his dinner. It’d give Tilly time to go get the badge.

“What’s my grandmother’s full name?” Tilly asked in a hiss as she retreated to the counter. Her eyes only leaving Ryan for a few moments as she went.

The little girl was standing there, looking scared, unsure, and unwilling to move. Her eyes were moving between Ryan and Tilly.

“Evelyn Margaret Mullins,” Ryan repeated after hearing Vern rattle it off. “She didn’t get rid of her married name even after your grandfather died. Vern says she lived at fourteen-twelve Little-House lane in—”

“Okay,” Tilly said, interupting him.

SHe was holding her phone up in her left hand, Vern’s badge in her right.

“I… okay. This is my dad’s badge,” she whispered and held up her hand. On her phone was a picture of her as a young woman standing next to Mullin’s. His badge was prominent in his front pocket. “Where’d you find it?”

“Embankment,” Ryan began and paused as Vern added to it, looking at the man. “The scenic overlook that you used to shoot rocks off with a slingshot.”

Ryan watched as a strange look filtered over Tilly’s face.

One of surprise, shock, then absolute misery.

Sheer pain and loss.

Of someone losing their father all over again.

“Carl,” Ryan whispered. “Give me the mage blood thing. I’m going to cut my palm and bleed it into an ‘appear’ spell. That’d make Mullins pretty visible, right?”

“Yes,” Carl answered without any emphasis. It was a flat answer. “Done.”

Nodding his head, Ryan got up and moved to the cardboard box in the corner that he’d put his spell book in after emptying his car.

He was unwilling to leave his gear in the trunk.

Pulling out his white-trash grimroire he flipped it to one of the ‘appear’ spells that he often used. They were great for locking spirits down in place if you had salt put up.

Ryan snapped it out of the binder and went back to the couch.

Pulling out his carry knife, Ryan made a cut into the side of his pinky finger. It wasn’t very big, more of a glorified papercut.

Holding his pinky out he quickly drew it along all the runes and sigils that made up the spell to appear. He’d need to print out another later but that was fine.

Tilly was trying to ask him a question but he ignored her.

No sooner than he closed the entirety of the run in his blood than it activated. He didn’t even have to try and inject mana into it, it just activated.

With a snap the paper became rock solid and laid out flat on the table.

“Oh dear heavens,” whimpered Tilly. “Pa?”

Looking to the side, Ryan saw the Mullins trio.

All of them looking at one another.

Vern was still kneeling in front of the girl and watching her.

Who was in turn looking at her mom.

Who was looking at Vern.

“Oh, uhm, hello. Wait, can she hear me, Ryan?” Vern asked and stood up, glancing back at Ryan.

“He asked a question but I didn’t hear him,” Tilly whispered, looking at Ryan. “What’d he want to know?”

“First, he wants to know his granddaughter’s name. Second, he asked if you can hear him, that answers that,” Ryan admitted and stuck his pinky in his mouth. “Now, you three have a conversation. I’ll pretend I’m Vern and ask, answer, and speak for him.

“I have no idea how long the spell will last so… let’s not waste time.”

Ryan was more than willing to give the family some time to adjust to this situation. He didn’t think the spell would last overly long either.

He’d have more than enough time after that to ask Tilly questions about her father’s death.

The spell had indeed only lasted fifteen minutes.

Which was significantly longer than previous by ten minutes.

Once Vern faded away he did so as a man who’d been given a gift.

Being able to say good bye long after the departure occurred, while also instilling something in a future generation.

Allison, his grand-daughter, would be unable to forget the day she spoke to her grandfather who was speaking to her from beyond the grave.

“What can you tell me about your father’s death?” Ryan asked, looking away from the game still ongoing. The pitchers were taking their time with every throw. Trying to make each one count and not give up that game winning run. “Because the coroner wouldn’t talk to me. There’s nothing in the vital records. There’s no news articles. There’s no grave-marker, no location for his remains’ resting point, no cremation certification, and honestly… I’m not sure there was ever a body.

“Something happened to Vern. He believes he was murdered and realistically I can’t find a reason to doubt him at this point. It genuinely feels like something happened to him and no one wants to talk about it.

“I thought about asking around at the precinct or people he knew from the force but… I can’t tell if that’d just cause people to clam up even more.”

“My dad was murdered,” Tilly said with absolute conviction. She didn’t call him ‘Pa’ this time with that odd accent she and her father shared. It seemed both were unwilling to share it around. “He was murdered but no one wanted to look into it, no one wanted to know more, and… and… they never found his body.

“One of the other detectives checked his home after he’d missed work for several days. Just vanished one day but-but they found a large pool of blood in his kitchen.

“They identified his blood with testing against the sample he’d given them the force. None of the cameras leading out of town caught his car leaving Noxfield, either. His car was at home and the engine was cold.

“There weren’t any signs of forced entry. Nothing stood out to the detectives as being taken and honestly… honestly I didn’t see anything missing or wrong either.

“Whoever got into my father’s house and killed him, did so through stealth, or they knew him and he let his guard down.

“Given my dad I think the possibility of someone breaking in without him realizing is more likely than him letting his guard down. He never let his guard down. Ever.

“Not for anyone. The walls never came down when it came to his personal sanctuary and that was his laptop and his home.

“He was always watching.

“Watching everything.

“Watching and trying to figure out what was going on. To put things together in a way that made sense. I learned a lot watching him.”

Tilly was rifling around in her purse and Allison was seated in a chair not far away. She was staring into nothing in between looking between Ryan and her mother. It was obvious she was rather bothered by everything that’d happened.

“All of that, how he raised me, and what happened, really set me on a career path. More or less made me join the force, just not in west virginia,” Tilly explained and pulled out a badge from her purse.

Ryan looked at it and raised an eyebrow before looking at Vern.

The ghost had a smile on his face and looked rather proud.

“That and it helped me nitpick at everything that was put in the system about my dad. There were some things, but not much,” Tilly continued, putting the badge back into her purse. “I’ll go get everything I brought but I don’t think you’ll find much more than what you already knew.

“I wasn’t an officer when he died and-and we weren’t talking much. I was still mad about him divorcing mom.

“Anyways, I’ll-actually, I need to go drop Allison off with my mom, not that I mention her. I’ll be back with everything I have about my dad.”

If she thinks she doesn’t have much more than what I already have, that leaves me with only one road, really.

Crowley the Coroner.

I need to get him to open up to me about what happened with Vern and go from there.

Without him telling me something, some hint or clue, I’m more or less stuck.

Though I should probably go see Vern’s old house. Just to make sure he didn’t leave a residual behind.

Just an echo of what’d happened to him.

“Alright,” Ryan murmured and nodded his head at Tilly. Her plan made sense. “If it doesn’t work out, we’ll go see Crowley together. The three of us. You, your dad, and me.”

There was a sudden crack from the tv.

The batter had just crushed a pitch and sent it toward deep center field. It didn’t take a neuro-surgeon to deduce that the ball was gone and the game was over.

Well, let’s hope I knock it out of the park, too.

Cause my detective game is weak as fuck.