The Case of the Westminster Abbey Ghost
 
For over a decade a ghost has haunted the Abbey. Now it’s up to Sherlock Holmes to solve the case of its death before more tragedy can occur.
 
A ghost haunts the Westminster Abbey. Someone died tragically. Sherlock is tasked to solve the crime that caused the death of the person haunting the Abbey. Revelations will come that are both startling and fantastic.

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Reckless Persuasion Death.

P.I. Cross Tale.

By John Pirillo.

***

Call me Crossbones. Everyone else does. Seems like every time I show up somewhere, there's heads rolling, legs torn off, chests burst open and general mayhem and death and dying. Pretty sad situation for a guy who just wants to make a living, even if it is a lousy one. Being made the symbol for everything that's not sugar and nice is just downright frustrating to say the least.

My real name is Cross. Henry Cross. I was born somewhere in California. I forget where because my father moved us around so much as a child I never stuck there long enough to remember any names. Friends were like cold showers. They woke you up, but were gladly forgotten. Most of my friends hated me because I was so honest. If they asked what I thought of their toy. I explained in no uncertain terms exactly what I thought. Parents were afraid to let me into their houses because I would answer and ask questions they didn't want to even consider...like how many heads can dance on the head of a pin, why aren't marshmallows put in the mouths of victims of cannibals, and why do vampires only have two teeth. You know the ordinary kind of questions a young kid asks who's dumber than an outhouse.

Yesterday I hit a new low, or high depending on which end of the pain spectrum you live. I was helping out Mother Darling. She lives about two blocks down the street. I always wave at her when I return from my office at night. She's usually seated on her front porch smoking a torch. That's what I call cigarettes because they scar your mouth, teeth, tongue, throat and lungs...not to mention those ugly stains on the fingers that hold them. "Hey Mom!" I greeted her.

She shook her torch at me. That was her best day with me. Usually she said something like, "Get the hell outta here before I call the cops on you!"

I would answer back. "But I am a cop!"

"Shit you are!" She'd laugh, and then toss her torch at me.

I'd duck it, then head on up the street.

If you get the idea that I live in a tough neighborhood, you wouldn't be wrong. But what makes it worse is that it's not all...you know...like her.

Once past her I had to dodge the alley Troll, he's a bum that lives in the alley next to my block. If you're not quick enough he grabs you and shakes you down for all your cash and if you're not carrying and he's hungry...well then...tough luck. I hadn't been bitten yet, but I had my butt kicked once. Literally. The Troll. His name was Angst, because that's what he gave everyone who had to cross his alley. Angst was in a good mood and when he snatched me on a Good Friday. I had actually made two bucks helping an old lady cross the street. She'd tipped me. He shook me down and instead of biting me he had laughed and just kicked me in the butt. Man that hurt!

But I'm not your average kind of P.I. That's Private Investigator to all you not know-its out there. But the ones in the know also knew that P.I. stood for Paranormal Investigator too. Yeah. I shone on both sides of the grave. And made about as much money. Nada. Zilch. Zero and Kaput. How do I make a living then? Well every once in a great while I stumble into a case that pays off. Literally. The person or thing or being that hires me pays me off. Not to help them but to stay out of their way so someone else can.

How in the world did I get into such a lousy line of business? I blame it all on my Dad. He was a know it all and a do nothing. He did everything. To not do anything and made a great living at it. He dabbled in magic. Lots of magic. He had ways of conjuring up cash that was real until the person who got it turned their back, and then it disappeared back into his pocket for further redistribution as he called it.

I laughed at that thought. The Old Man was still alive. Bitter and well in a high rise he owned. He was filthy rich. I was filthy poor. Never would the two meet. Not that he wouldn't help me. He would in a rabbit's leap, but I had too much pride. That's probably why my girl Sassy Lassie, yeah her real name, hadn't shown me the good times yet. She was waiting for a miracle. Me to grow up and get rich. She wasn't a gold digger, just a beautiful blonde who liked the finer things in life I couldn't finger for her or buy.

"Hey Angst!" I greeted as I passed the alley. He looked up from the trash can he was eating from and belched. "Crossbones. How's it hanging?"

"Not so good." I answered.

"That's great." He replied, and then went back to munching on KFC bones he had found in a tossed family carton.

Times had sure changed. He used to hassle me every time I passed, but lately he'd gotten...well...kind of friendly. Maybe that's because I also practice a little...uh...protection these days. I took my hand off the pentacle coin in my pocket and its soft glow diminished as I let go. It was a ward against evil. At least the kind like Angst. It didn't do much good against Flits, Vamps, Wolves, Invisibles, Ghastlies and Zombs, but not much did unless you fast, lucky and armed with silver. I was. I felt thee comforting pressure of the silver daggers up my right and left sleeves. I never left for anywhere without them and a coat and long sleeves to hide them. Not just silver, but tipped with Holy Water. So I sizzled, sliced and diced anyone stupid enough to try to sip, dip, slick, pick, and slice or dice me with my twins...a name I gave them, since I usually did with them both at the same time.

I also had a string of rosary beads around my neck of pure Sandalwood. Not for the creatures I've already named, but for the ones I have no name for that come from such places as India and China, or Tibet. Yeah. Raving mad monks armed with spear toes and mace fingernails and all that good stuff, as well as flying dragons with bad breath that could make you gag for a week.

"Hey Toots!" I greeted the Fairy who hovered above her balcony, putting up her wash to dry. She blew some fairy dust at me in greetings and I felt my cares lift from me a moment. She also gave me the usual come on with her wings, but I don't do wings, and I don't do Fairies. Too dangerous. They never get tired and they can kill a man with pleasure, that's why so many of them hired out in the Blue Zones of the city. If an occasional unlucky stiff got the happy city kick off from too much loving, well, the police thought at least the stiff got sent off in style. So no crime with them, but definitely high octane dangerous.

I reached my building and stepped up the six flights of stairs to the front door. Each step had an invisible pentagram marked on it, courtesy of the Resident Wizard, who was also the landlord. Wizards, who don't make it to the big colleges, usually powder out into running apartment complexes and Seven -Elevens. They still had power, but not the big bang stuff. Still, I wouldn't want to get on their wrong side. They could curse your underwear pretty good and no one likes that snug a fit!

My Resident Wizard sat on the top step, eyeing me sternly as I reached his level. "Rent!"

I reached into my pocket for cash. He grabbed my arm. "What?"

"Not that money."

Oh crap! He remembered the last ten times I'd stiffed him with vanishing cash. Now I had to use up my bundle. Oh well. I reached into my jacket and pulled out a diamond. A cute gal up on 5th had given it to me from her wedding ring. She didn't want it any more. I had found out her boyfriend was having an affair with a gay vampire and she had given him the boot and her ring thanks to me. Easiest cash I'd earned yet.

And in case you haven't figured it out yet. It was a bad economy. Rotten bad. Sunk into Netherlands of the deepest hell, of which there were many unfortunately. Our last president had gotten us into a war that lasted three decades and finally America had gone Tinkle like a magic crystal ball with too much voodoo on it. Now most Americans were scrambling to pay bills, put food on the table, and figure out some way of sticking it back to the Feds, the banks and the Corporate Magicians who had trotted in with that idiot President to tank our economy and country.

And to remind me how good his memory was my Resident Wizard gave me back a handful of fifty cent pieces. About two bucks worth. I stared at it blankly a moment. He grinned. And to show you there's no hard feelings I'm removing the curse on your goods.

I felt this instant relief in my underwear. The constant inflammation and itch in my crotch and penis had vanished as if they had never been t here. Even the stink which had killed the acquaintance of several customers was gone...just like that. So like I said earlier, never get on the wrong side of any wizard, even a Resident Wizard, they're just nasty!

I gave him a smile of relief and entered the building. It was old wood and plasterboard walls with dingy paintings strung up the staircase I climbed. No elevator. No electricity. No one but the rich used it anymore. If anything, people bottled Tangs and Gnit Flies. Magical creatures that gave off a lot of light if fed properly. You can keep the Gnit Flies though; they're nasty little things that poop just about everywhere. Never let one loose just because you like a lot of life, it ain't worth it!

I reached my door. 666. Yeah. Sign of the Devil and all that good stuff. Oh did I mention that my nearest relative is related to him. Yeah. We have the Devil here too, but he's on down times like the rest of us, his demons beggars on the street corners, promising to give back pieces of souls if everyone behaves and gives them a break. The Devil himself is a likable enough guy. He's nothing like the one portrayed in all the old stories of stripping people of their souls. He never buys them. Just rents those until the person can pay up. If the person doesn't pay up, he rents the souls out to Magicians who need help and that unlucky person gets to work off his debt in service to them. Which could be a bad or a good thing, depending on your sex, and the inclinations of that particular wizard.

"Hey Gant!' I greeted the Ogre who guarded my hallway. He was a tall Shrek looking guy with a nose that hung to the floor. He used his nose to catch people and believe it or not it worked. Great! Trouble was most people had to wait a year for the stench to come off if he made a mistake. Which sometimes he did if you didn't tip him once a month. It was that once a month for me.

I dipped into my pocket for my magic money and he started to twirl his nose. Damn! Everyone is on to me, I thought. I shrugged, gave him my best who me? Smile, then tossed him the fifty cent pieces the Resident Wizard had given me. He smiled, dropped his nose and faded back into his favorite dark corner to eat it. Yeah. Ogres like the taste of money. It feeds their body and soul. Strange world, right? My world though.

I stuck my finger into the keyhole of my apartment door and it shrunk down, took a tiny nip from the tip of it...don't ever lock yourself out, it takes a lot more then...and opened the door for me. I slipped inside, shutting the door before any loose Gnats or Gnits could fit inside. They were great for free light, but who wanted their poop all over the floor. I had enough to do to keep my apartment clean already.

I pulled up my favorite easy chair. No dinner tonight. My stomach grumbled angrily. "Not my fault!" I told it. "So shut up!" It screamed at me, hurting like hell.

I held out and it eventually shut down, which worried me more, because that meant it was going to keep me awake all night. I talk like it's human, but I know my limitations and an empty stomach is the loudest complainer on the damned planet.

I waved my right hand and the TV flicked on, awakened by the spell embedded in my right wrist. I could do that with most of my apartment appliances. A buddy Wizard of mine had installed it for me for a favor. I had tracked down his girlfriend and found out she liked beasties more than him. He wouldn't have minded so much, but the beast turned out to be a white gorilla with a penchant for chocolates. He hated chocolates. He hated gorillas. The idea of sharing his girl with a gorilla was too revolting. I helped him pack her stuff and toss it off the balcony where she found it next morning when she returned home after another fling with her friendly gorilla. Those gorillas get all t he loving I sighed. Ugly as hell but so damned sexual that most gals didn't care about their looks. What a crazy messed up world!

"This is Gorgeous George for Nightly News." Announced a dude with hair that danced on his forehead in shades of red, blue and green. He wore trifocal glasses that changed his eye color every few seconds to match his hair. "Be on the lookout for a Monkey Bite. It has been spotted near Elmhurst and Main. It's a mean one."

I switched off the TV. Nothing but bad news. This was doing that. That was doing this. And none of it was ever a good thing. What happened to the good things? Again, I cursed that idiot President, the banks and the corporations that had caused this depression and sold us out to the Dark Dimension for cash on the dollar.

Yeah. You heard it right. America never had magic until that idiot got us into that war. To pay for it our next Presidents had to make deals with anyone who had cash. Unfortunately, the only ones with cash were just itching to upset our cart with magic. Maybe they originally had good intentions. No one knows, because our American scientists, bright as they are, figured out the magic and turned it on the loaners. They had been vanquished back into the Dark Dimensions, but now the genie was out of the bottle.

"Oh hell!" I muttered as my stomach growled in protest again.

I got up, kicked off my shoes and socks, and then threw myself down on my sofa. Oh did I tell you I had a studio with no bed. Only thing I could afford. No one wonder Miss Sassy Lassie doesn't want to sleep with me. Who would want to sleep with a broke guy who sleeps on a sofa with springs popping out of it. Give you a hernia.

I threw a worn blanket over my clothes, closed my eyes, and waved my right hand and all the lights went out. One more day gone. I wonder if tomorrow will be fun too. Then I was out like a light.

Sammie held the stone in his hand and closed his eyes. A vague image began to filter into his consciousness. But he couldn't hold it. It vanished. He opened his eyes, then stooped and picked up another rock. He touched it to his forehead and saw a man laughing his guts out. He was tall and lithe and had worry lines up and down his face, but he laughed like a madman. Then the man looked at Sammie. "Help me!" He cried out.

Sammie dropped the stone as if he had been burned, causing his mop of blonde hair, which was dripping wet from the heat to fall into his eyes.

He eyed the desert uncertainly. His eyes matched the blueness of the skies as he searched the Joshua trees extending as far as the eye could see. He had driven to the Mojave Desert from Las Vegas on his electric bike. He had pulled an electric motor, and hooked it up to the gears of the back wheel of the back, packed on two solar batteries capable of powering it, alternating between the two, and set up a scratch generator that would generate power whenever he slowed down, turned or braked. Between the solar power and the scratch generator he had enough power to go the distance. It was just one of his inventions he found time to fool around with in his garage whenever spare time allowed, which wasn't often since he was involved in Baseball, Track, Swimming and Football, as well as DJ'd the dances at school whenever he could. Sometimes it helped to be the tallest guy at the school.

He had a busy life. Maybe it was because he had such an active mind, or maybe it was because he saw so much more than most people did. You see, Sammie was spiritually aware. Some call people like that psychic, but it's just another name for someone who can see the dead, the future, the past and auras among many other things.

Sammie had gone with Jimbo numerous times to visit psychics only to find out that they were smoke and mirrors and it was easy to see why Sir Arthur Conan Doyle spent the latter part of his life exposing them, because they preyed on the weak minded and the ignorant.

"What do you think, Sammie?" He asked himself, swatting a huge fly from his forehead where beads of sweat were drizzling down from the hot sun overhead. "Home or stone?"

He tossed a coin, and then caught it on the back of his elbow. Heads. "Stone."

He pulled his electric bike further off the dirt path he had followed from the 15 South and parked it against a large Joshua Tree in the shade so the handlebars wouldn't scald his fingers and palms, and then he searched the brush for a time, making a kind of weaving pattern of search and seize. Lately he had been able to tune into which rocks to try first, but still got disappointed occasionally when the rocks proved to be only whiffs...not true impressions, such as the first one he had experienced.

Sometimes he was able to get a glimpse into the far past. Once he had seen a miner fall into the open hole of his own silver mine, another miner with a smoking gun in his hand and a nasty grin on his face. That dead miner had risen from his grave and attached himself to the violent one who had struck him dead with a bullet. Smiling at the man he was now settling over, he had said. "And now I'm going to haunt you until the day you die, you bastard coyote sonuva bitch!"

That was Sammie's first clue that people didn't just die, but that they also made choices. They could stay on the earth or go on...into a kind of tunnel of white light. He had seen one of those just weeks ago and was still trying to figure out the mechanics of that, but the possession thing, that truly frightened him. How could one know they were possessed, if the spirit attached to them became part of them?

He shook his head. Not his problem to solve. Yet.

He found his rock. It lay next to a rusty arrowhead that had been dug up by a prairie dog as it made its hole next to a Joshua tree. The dog looked out at him from its hole and began scalding him for interrupting its peace and quiet.

"Sorry, little guy." He told it, and then dropped to a knee. He plucked a bag of peanuts from his wind jacket and laid out a course of them near the hole. The prairie dog squeaked at him as if saying, "Not that easy I'm not!" Then the little guy swiftly grabbed a nut and disappeared into its hole. Several moments later it peeked out to see if Sammie was still there and watching, then shot out and grabbed another peanut. It repeated its forays for food until all the nuts were gone. It vanished into its hole a long time, and Sammie thought he could grab the stone t hen, but as he started to reach the prairie dog stuck its head out and began scalding him again.

Sighing, Sammie put a mound of nuts in the palm of his hand and laid it down before him. The prairie dog cocked an eye on him, then on the nuts. Nothing ventured, nothing gained. It crept over slowly, its tail bouncing, and then stiffening tensely as it neared his palm of nuts. Finally, it sniffed at his palm, made a coughing, wheezing sound, then reached out with its dainty front paws, took a nut and without running, began to eat the nuts until they were all gone. Finished, it laid down next to his palm, its eyes on his face.

"You're really cute." Sammie told it.

The prairie dog made a tiny barking sound like laughter, swished its tail, gave him a quick nuzzle with its nose on his wrist, then flung itself back into its hole.

Sammie laughed, and then grabbed the stone.

WHAM!

Sammie stood before a vast lake that shimmered over the desert. It had snowed this winter, but the hot sun had started melting it and distributing its drizzling remains across the desert floor, allowing tiny pools of water and ponds to form. He looked at his hands and noticed he had a bow and arrow in them.

He raised his palms and saw they were weathered and quite reddish brown, as if baked in an oven. He squinted to the East and saw the smoky mountains in the distance and brief flares of lighting and then distant thunders.

"We must get home, Bright Feather." His companion told him.

He turned to look in the face of an older man. His father. Chief Sky in the Clouds. He was the oldest of their tribe and its leader. He put a hand warmly on his son's bow hand. "Don't feel bad, Bright Feather, there will be other days to hunt. But the storm is coming and I fear it will be a nasty one."

They rushed across the desert, jogging, making good time, but the storm clouds were already sweeping overhead. Lances of lightning struck the ground behind them, sending blasts of warm air at their heels.

"The Sky Father is angry with us, father." He said.

"No. We were foolish not to have run sooner." His father said, and then stumbled as a bolt of lightning as bright as the sun flung itself into his back, lancing him from behind.

He stopped and dropped beside his father, who lay still. His back was smoking. His father looked up in to his eyes. "Run, Bright Feather. Run. The Sky Father comes for us both this day." And then his spirit departed. He could see his father rise like smoke from the smoldering body and leap onto a sky pony and fling into the skies high above the bastard storm and lightning.

WHAM!

Sammie found himself lying beside the Joshua tree; the prairie dog was licking on his face and making fearful sounds. When his eyes opened, it scampered away a safe distance and began scalding him. Foolish human, leave the dead to the dead.

Sammie smiled. It was more likely saying "How about some more peanuts?"

Sammie groaned. His forehead was cut from grazing the sharp blades of the Joshua tree, but he would survive. He groaned again, and then rose to his feet. He took the rest of the bag of peanuts, and then sprinkled them all before the prairie dog, which immediately began eating them; stopping only to give him a quick bark of thanks or scalding, then continue eating again.

Sammie found his electric bike, pulled it to the dirt path he had driven into the desert on and started it. He drove off, pondering what he had seen. He didn't get far when something caught his eye. He stopped the bike, and got off. He tramped about three yards into the rougher part of the desert, avoiding holes and drop-offs until he found the broken wood he had spotted. It was ancient and rotting. But there was no question it was the remains of a bow.

He stooped to pick it up.

WHAM!

Sammie ran and ran and ran, but the lightning strikes were coming closer and closer. He saw the safety of a clump of Joshua Trees and headed for it, but before he could reach them he was lit up like a gigantic bonfire for a tribal feast. He felt his spirit flung from his body. He turned to look back and saw his body laying on the desert floor, smoking, and his sparse clothing on fire.

"Bright Fire." His father said. "I warned you to run quickly."

He turned around. His father stood before a huge tunnel of white light, smiling. He opened his eyes. "Come my son, we have much to talk about in our new home."

"I'm afraid, Father."

His father smiled. "Sky Father waits for us. See?"

He pointed to the white tunnel of light and a huge warrior with a very kind face stood there, smiling at them. His right hand held a large eagle feather that glowed with a golden light. His left hand held a beautiful white owl. "He is very handsome, father."

"Yes. Come. Your mother is waiting for us too."

He felt like weeping. "She is..."

His father smiled even more broadly. "...Waiting for us. See?"

His mother stepped from the tunnel of white light and opened her arms to him. He wept for joy and raced to her, letting her hold him close to her bosom. He wept and wept and wept. His father came and held t hem both close. "We are tired of this desert, son. Let us go to the land where cold and ice, hot and dark are no more."

His father let go and he and his mother stepped into the tunnel of White Light.

WHAM!

Sammie stumbled uncertainly, almost losing his balance, letting the bow drop to the ground. It was no longer needed on this world or the next. He wiped at tears in his own eyes and smiled. He looked up into the skies and waved as what could have been two Indian braves rode a Sky Pony in the bright sunlight into the clouds.