THE KINDRED SPIRITS DETECTIVE AGENCY

by

MELODIE CAMPBELL

“We have a client, darling!” I placed the phone down on the desk in front of me.

Mike groaned from behind his newspaper. “What is it this time? Not another classic haunted house booking for Halloween?”

I sympathized. Pickings were slim for two spirits on the lam. Well, not so much on the lam as in the ether, and, yes, I said spirits. Many years ago, I regretfully crashed my brand-new 1926 Packard Roadster into Mike’s Model T after a night of too many Prohibition cocktails. Two funerals later, we’d made the best of our ghostly presences, and together, we started the Kindred Spirits Detective Agency. It helped that Mike had been a cop in his past life. It also helped that we made a good team, in and out of bed.

But this was a real job, and I could feel myself getting excited. “Better than that!  A stalker!”

“Well done, Pammy,” Mike said. He let the newspaper slip from his hand and tipped the worn fedora at me. “It’s been a while, and you know how I feel about getting rusty. Smart of you to put that ad in the paper.”

I tilted my head, happy for praise. “A lot of women are shy about going to detective agencies.”

“Let alone, your excuse for not meeting clients in person.”

I smiled, and crossed one stockinged leg over the other. “If they don’t know what we look like, they can’t inadvertently give us away when we’re working. Amazing how many people go, ‘That makes sense!’”

Our clients can see us if we want them to. Spirits have the ability to manifest, if they’ve been kicking around a while. You learn the ropes. And Mike and I have been together in this state since the Great Depression. I still can’t kick the stockings habit.

But sometimes, keeping your unique abilities under cover, so to speak, can be an advantage.

“So who’s the client?”

I referred to the laptop screen in front of me. “Katie Hampstead, 20-year-old college student. Sounded very frightened. Honey-blond hair, hazel eyes, rather short. I’m looking at her photos up on Facebook. Cheerleader type. Cute rather than stunning.”

“Not gorgeous like you, my raven-haired temptress.”

I kicked a stockinged foot at him. “You smooth talker , you.”

“I merely know upon which side my bread is buttered, old girl.”

“And the pickings are few,” I drawled.

He barked a laugh. “You don’t hear me complaining. I’ve got what I want. Who’s the perp?”

I looked down at my notes. “College student by the name of Brad Bannister. They were a thing in first year, but she began to feel smothered by his attention, and then plain scared. She broke it off this summer when she went home to Vancouver. But now they’re back at school, and he won’t leave her alone. Follows her around relentlessly, turns up whenever he can find her alone. Leaves angry messages on the phone…confronts her friends. You know the sort of thing.”

“Bounder of the first order, in other words,” Mike said. “Can’t stand to be rejected.”

I leaned back in my office chair. “I’ll never understand why men think getting angry will make us want to be with them again.”

“Caveman complex. Good thing she contacted us. This kind of thing often escalates.” Mike knew what he was talking about. He worked major crime in the metro force for years before the accident. Lots of missing women, almost all of them young and pretty, like our client.

“So where do you want to start?” I said.

“How about using my new toy? That cab-thing we bought.”

“You mean the Uber car.” I had to smile. Mike left modern technology and terminology to me.

“But how to get him to order us?” Mike said, frowning.

“Easy peasy,” I said. “We mail him a coupon for a free trial, and then wait by the phone.”

Mike looked at me with intense admiration. “That pretty head of yours still astounds me.”

“After all these years,” I said, smiling.

“After all these years.” The way he vaulted up from the chair told me his ardor hadn’t diminished one bit.

#

It worked like a charm. No trouble finding the address…we are a detective agency, after all. And the very next night, we had our call.

It was nearly nine when we pulled up in front of an old Victorian two-story. In keeping with our plan, Mike made himself visible in the driver’s seat. I sat in the passenger seat, a ghostly presence beside him. No one would ever know there were two of us in the car. We worked well together this way.

I scanned the darkness for our target. A dark-haired young man of average height was standing on the steps waiting impatiently. Some might have considered him good-looking, but he had a face that reminded me of a weasel.

I wasn’t surprised when he bounded down the stairs, pulled open the back door of the car, and jumped in.

Brad got straight to the point. “I have a coupon. This is free, right? The first time.”

“Yes, sir. Where to?” Mike said from the driver’s seat.

Our target said, “66 Sloan Street.” His order had a tone I didn’t like. Privilege, with a side order of whine. And I knew that address. It was our client’s.

“I don’t think so,” I said from the passenger seat, in a particularly sultry voice. Female, of course.

“What?” Our passenger turned to Mike. “What did you say?”

“It’s not a good idea for you to go there anymore,” I said, this time with more syrup in my voice.

The target gasped. “Who’s saying that?”

“She is.” Mike pointed to my empty seat.

“There’s no one there!” said the target. “Are you a ventriloquist?”

“No, darling. Not that,” I trilled.

The fellow whipped his head around. “This is a scam, right? There’s a mic in here. You recording this for some fucking reason?”

“Tch, tch,” I mouthed.

“Language,” Mike scolded. “There’s a lady present. But let me talk to you about the young woman you’ve been stalking. Not the done thing, old chap. You will cease and desist immediately.”

“Mind your own business!” he yelled.

“This is our business,” Mike said. “And it will remain our business until you behave like a gentleman, and leave the poor girl alone.”

“Don’t forget to say or else,” I said.

“Or else,” Mike said. “Thank you, darling.”

“And don’t forget to engage the child locks,” I reminded him.

CLICK.

“Who’s saying that?” Our passenger tried to force the door open. “This is a trick! Who put you up to this? Katie? Go fuck yourself!”

“Technically impossible, in our condition,” Mike said, sighing. “But, since you mention it, I have other tricks up my sleeve.”

I took the hint. It was time to ramp things up.

I stuck a cigarette in my mouth, grabbed a butane lighter from the console, and prepared to light it. Snap went the flint wheel.

“Oooo, I do like a smoke,” I said, waving the cig around. That’s all that Brad could see, of course. A cigarette sweeping through the air.

I heard a gasp from the backseat.

“A distinct advantage of being dead, sweet cheeks,” Mike said. “No cancer to worry about.”

“I’m getting out of here.” Brad was clawing the door now, desperate to escape.

“Look again at the driver,” I said, blowing smoke. “I believe he’s becoming a shadow of his former self.”

At those words, Mike withdrew his physical body.

The target screamed.

“You’re all mad!”

“Nonsense, darling,” I said. “We’re merely ghosts.”

“Ghosts, trying to earn an honest living, as detectives,” Mike continued. “Kindred spirits, you might say, out for hire. And we’ve been hired to haunt you, until you leave Katie Hampstead alone for good.”

“What the fuck is happening?”

“You’ve been a naughty boy,” I said, pointing the cigarette at him. “Katie said she didn’t want to see you anymore. And yet you persisted. You pestered and stalked her, tried to scare her to half to death. Made her life miserable. That isn’t love. That’s revenge, pure and simple.”

“So, here’s what you’ll do.” Mike’s voice lowered to a growl. “You’ll leave this car, and never see her again. Never call her. Never go within a city block of her. For this haunting will continue for as long as you persist on bullying young women. We won’t give up. You see, we have all the time in the world!”

My laugh was a tinkle. “And I do get a kick out of driving creeps like you out of your minds. Don’t I, darling?”

Mike gave me a fond look. “Remember the time we followed that licentious bank clerk around his office, and kept removing the chairs every time he tried to sit down?”

I smiled. “Falling down on the job! He didn’t last long at that company.”

I snuck a look at the backseat. Brad appeared to be hiding his eyes and holding his head in his hands. My voice sobered. “But we really didn’t intend for that spoiled frat boy  to jump off that bridge. I felt bad about that.”

“He would persist,” said Mike, always the rational one of us. “So easy, you see, for me to simply show up anywhere, manifest at any time, and step in front of someone. Any time, any place…no matter who you’re with…for years and years to come—”

“All right!” the voice from the backseat screamed. “Leave me alone!”

“We will, if you leave her alone,” said Mike.

“Okay! I’ll do anything! Let me out of here!”

“Unlock the door for the poor man, Michael. I think he’s got the idea.”

CLICK.

Brad dove for the car door. It swung open so quickly, he almost fell out headfirst . I watched with keen interest as he recovered and righted himself, then took off up the same steps upon which he had been waiting. Without a look back, he bounded onto the porch, pushed open the door, and disappeared into the old Victorian building.

Mike reached back with his long arm to close the car door. Then he put the car in gear, and pulled away from the curb.

“Well,” I said, primly. “Job done. I think that takes care of that.” I extinguished my cigarette in the car ashtray.

“And if it doesn’t, we’ll simply start haunting him in public places,” Mike said. “That’s always good for a few laughs. Pity no one wears a hat anymore.” Mike can make a crowd scene turn into quite a jovial experience, flicking hats off people.

“Brilliant idea, buying an old cab, darling,” I said. “Just think! If the detective business ever fails, we can always become real Uber drivers.”

“We aim to please, old girl.” Mike sounded smug.

I was used to the old girl. It was regularly interspersed with sweet cheeks and gorgeous, so I took it in stride.

Mike wasn’t finished, however. “Which reminds me. I’ve proposed 347 times now, Pamela Ricci. Isn’t it about time you said yes and married me? After all, it’s been nearly 100 years. You know you’re the only girl for me.”

I chuckled and put my hand on his arm. “That’s getting old, darling.”

He reached for my hand and kissed it. “So it is, my love. So it is.”

---

 

THE END