smirked. “I think you’re in luck. I had no idea it was you.” He tried to lift my teased bangs off my face, but only succeeded in swiping his ghostly hand through my forehead.
“Uck,” I said. His ghost hand in my head made me shiver.
“Oh, sorry. I keep forgetting that I can’t touch you, or anything for that matter. It’s kind of cool though, being able to walk through walls and stuff.” He smiled and swiped his hand through the brick wall.
“You’re right! Actually, you might come in very handy in your own investigation. I see that there are a couple of cars over there, do you know who they belong to?” I looked again to the far side of the parking lot.
“Oh, ya. The caddy is Mr. Big’s, but I don’t recognize the Lexus. I’ve seen it around a time or two. I have a feeling that I know something about it though; does that sound weird?” He shrugged and scratched his head. “I can’t remember who owns it or why I would know anything about it. Bummer.” He looked at his feet and I could see that he felt helpless.
“Hey, don’t be hard on yourself. I’m guessing that death, like any other trauma, might affect your memory. It might actually be a clue as to what happened to you. Let’s see if we can’t figure out who it belongs to.” We crept around the lot and I tried peering into a couple of buildings, but I couldn’t find any sign of life.
“I don’t see anyone, do you?” I asked, adjusting my hat.
Buster shook his head. “Let me just pop in and have a look around.” He disappeared into the wall, humming the Twilight Zone theme.
“Callie? Can you hear me? Over.” I jumped on the opportunity to check in while Buster was inside.
“Find anything? Over.” Her voice crackled over the cheap walkie-talkie.
“Nothing yet. I’m going to keep poking around. There are two cars here and I think one of them is Mr. Big’s. I want to see who he’s meeting, and if it might have something to do with Buster’s disappearance.” I released the button and the sound of static echoed in the empty lot.
“Hey! Is somebody out here?” A voice came from the far corner of the lot, near the front entrance. “Shit!” I muttered to myself. It was dark, and I could only make out a shadow. Hopefully, whoever was over there could make out only as much of me. I switched off the radio and kept in the shadows of the wall making my way around to the wash bay. I ducked inside one of the bay doors that was slightly ajar. I tried looking around, but found that it was pitch black, not a good thing in a large room filled with various hoses and tools to trip on.
I stepped backward trying to cover myself with the darkness. My foot landed on something unsteady and suddenly I was rolling backward. I felt myself lose my balance and my footing. I rolled around for a few seconds, flailing my arms, unsuccessful at regaining my footing. Just when I thought I was going to make it I felt my foot land on what seemed to be the edge of the floor and tried not to scream as I headed over the edge.
“Umph!” The wind knocked out of me when I hit the bottom. Luckily, I seemed to be only a few feet down, and, for the most part, unscathed. I had landed on my ass.
“Relax. There’s nobody else here Dmitri; probably just a bum wandering around. I see them out here all the time going through the dumpsters.” A voice carried across the lot to where I was now trapped in the dark pit.
“I don’t know, it doesn’t feel right,” said a heavy Russian accent. “Mr. Popov wouldn’t like it if we were found out.” Feet shuffled closer, and I scurried to the back of whatever hole I was in. I figured that I must be in some sort of service bay pit in the shop floor, for when techs needed to change oil. I had no idea whether I would be hidden or blatantly present if the lights suddenly came on. I could see a faint glow and smelled the heady scent of a cigar. I hoped that whoever these guys were that they opted for the cover of
“Uck,” I said. His ghost hand in my head made me shiver.
“Oh, sorry. I keep forgetting that I can’t touch you, or anything for that matter. It’s kind of cool though, being able to walk through walls and stuff.” He smiled and swiped his hand through the brick wall.
“You’re right! Actually, you might come in very handy in your own investigation. I see that there are a couple of cars over there, do you know who they belong to?” I looked again to the far side of the parking lot.
“Oh, ya. The caddy is Mr. Big’s, but I don’t recognize the Lexus. I’ve seen it around a time or two. I have a feeling that I know something about it though; does that sound weird?” He shrugged and scratched his head. “I can’t remember who owns it or why I would know anything about it. Bummer.” He looked at his feet and I could see that he felt helpless.
“Hey, don’t be hard on yourself. I’m guessing that death, like any other trauma, might affect your memory. It might actually be a clue as to what happened to you. Let’s see if we can’t figure out who it belongs to.” We crept around the lot and I tried peering into a couple of buildings, but I couldn’t find any sign of life.
“I don’t see anyone, do you?” I asked, adjusting my hat.
Buster shook his head. “Let me just pop in and have a look around.” He disappeared into the wall, humming the Twilight Zone theme.
“Callie? Can you hear me? Over.” I jumped on the opportunity to check in while Buster was inside.
“Find anything? Over.” Her voice crackled over the cheap walkie-talkie.
“Nothing yet. I’m going to keep poking around. There are two cars here and I think one of them is Mr. Big’s. I want to see who he’s meeting, and if it might have something to do with Buster’s disappearance.” I released the button and the sound of static echoed in the empty lot.
“Hey! Is somebody out here?” A voice came from the far corner of the lot, near the front entrance. “Shit!” I muttered to myself. It was dark, and I could only make out a shadow. Hopefully, whoever was over there could make out only as much of me. I switched off the radio and kept in the shadows of the wall making my way around to the wash bay. I ducked inside one of the bay doors that was slightly ajar. I tried looking around, but found that it was pitch black, not a good thing in a large room filled with various hoses and tools to trip on.
I stepped backward trying to cover myself with the darkness. My foot landed on something unsteady and suddenly I was rolling backward. I felt myself lose my balance and my footing. I rolled around for a few seconds, flailing my arms, unsuccessful at regaining my footing. Just when I thought I was going to make it I felt my foot land on what seemed to be the edge of the floor and tried not to scream as I headed over the edge.
“Umph!” The wind knocked out of me when I hit the bottom. Luckily, I seemed to be only a few feet down, and, for the most part, unscathed. I had landed on my ass.
“Relax. There’s nobody else here Dmitri; probably just a bum wandering around. I see them out here all the time going through the dumpsters.” A voice carried across the lot to where I was now trapped in the dark pit.
“I don’t know, it doesn’t feel right,” said a heavy Russian accent. “Mr. Popov wouldn’t like it if we were found out.” Feet shuffled closer, and I scurried to the back of whatever hole I was in. I figured that I must be in some sort of service bay pit in the shop floor, for when techs needed to change oil. I had no idea whether I would be hidden or blatantly present if the lights suddenly came on. I could see a faint glow and smelled the heady scent of a cigar. I hoped that whoever these guys were that they opted for the cover of
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