“That guy was terrifying,” Bartholomew said.
“The placed was haunted. The dead people kind of helped.” That was an easy way to explain it.
“Are you serious? What part did you play in the small battlefield?” Eric was glaring at me. “Isis, are you sure you’re not part of the terrorist group? ’Cause every time you’re around, things mysteriously explode. We’ve had reports of explosions, gunshots, smoke, gas, screams, howls, and horrifying screeches. Our phones were going off like crazy.” Eric took a breath and sat back down.
“I can only claim some of the gunshots and the gas. The rest was not me.” I tried to look as innocent as possible.
Eric tilted his head in shock. He was not happy. “Only…only those things. You are truly a weapon of mass destruction. We got three dead, two barely alive, and a pair of eyeballs. How do you explain that?”
“Do the three dead have gunshots in them?” I had been aiming for their legs. I prayed I was not that out of practice.
“That’s the weird part. They have gunshot-like wounds but no bullets. We couldn’t even find the casings. People heard gunshots.”
I hadn’t taken the casings; why was he giving me that look? “Can I be impressed by the great police work?”
“No. Isis, you claim the gunshots but not the ax? Those men were bashed in the skull. The ax that was left at the scene. Why?”
“I don’t think Saint Peter allows axes in heaven.” That was my best guess.
“What?” He threw his hands in the air and then slammed his head on the table. That really looked painful. Constantine, Bartholomew, and I just stared. Eric stayed that way, and the three of us went back to talking.
“So Death took them home. It was about time.” Constantine didn’t need much explanation.
“I guess when my new ghost friend couldn’t drag me out, and after gouging Natalie’s eyes out, she made the call.”
“No wonder Eric couldn’t find you,” Bartholomew said. “We called him as soon as you started shooting. We were hoping for him to get you out before the cops showed up.”
“You actually went in looking for me?”
Eric had his head in his hands. He looked like a little kid. “Yeah. I went ahead of my partner straight to where Bartholomew said you were. I ran into the eyeballs instead. I almost puked on the scene. By the time I got myself collected again, Bartholomew called, saying you were home.” Eric started yawning. I just realized he had been up all night and was exhausted.
“I don’t think an ax-wielding ghost is going to hold up in court,” I said.
Poor thing was not amused.
“We have a picture if you want to see it,” Bartholomew said.
I had totally forgotten about the video. “I don’t recommend it.” I was shaking my head.
Unfortunately, Bartholomew was already out of his seat and at his control station.
Before I could protest, Eric was beside him. “I almost stepped in eyeballs. I’m sure I can take your little ghost.”
Bartholomew played the video for Eric. Constantine and I waited by the table, watching each other and shaking our heads.
“Holy shit. That thing was there. Please tell me this is fake.” Nobody ever listened to me.
“I tried to warn you.” I felt a little bad for him. He looked even worse. “The good news is, he’s not there anymore. Everyone is safe to continue the investigation.” I looked at Constantine, who was agreeing with me.
“Please tell me: Are we going to find anything connecting you to this?” Eric was back at the table, staring down at me.
“Well, Officer Eric, I can’t believe you care.” I gave him my most fake brilliant smile and even batted my eyes. Constantine started laughing.
“No! I just need to figure out what I’m going to say when they ask me why I’m hanging out with a crazy murderer.”
Ouch. He could have at least played it off. I sank lower in my chair. Constantine, on the other hand, was rolling.
“Oh, thanks for the support.” I waved my hand at him. “I’m pretty sure if Death took care of the bullet casings, you won’t find anything placing me there. Besides, I was wearing gloves and a cap. Unless you can trace droplets of my spit, I’m sure I’m clear.”
The boy actually looked relieved. I wanted to kick him.
“Not even on the ax?” He was really hung up on that ax.
“Never touched it. It wasn’t mine. I doubt you’ll be able to match the prints you find. I don’t think you have fingerprints from the fifties.” Technology was good, but it couldn’t work miracles.
“Great. So now we have a triple homicide nobody can explain.” When he put it that way, it was depressing.
“You can always blame it on gangs,” Bartholomew said from his workstation.
“True. If only we had a gang problem in Texarkana.”
“You do now,” Constantine said.
Eric was ready to kill us. Totally uncalled for. Bartholomew, Constantine, and I sensed his tension and waited for him to calm down. We didn’t need an edgy cop on the premises. Eric paced a few times and tried to take deep breaths. I felt so much better watching someone else do it.
“Eric, let the investigation unfold on its own. Go home, shower, and take a nap. It will work itself out.” Constantine was back in his Yoda mode. I was impressed with his advice. It was making Eric feel better.
“Fine. I’m going home.”
“Bye, Eric,” Bartholomew and I said together. We were afraid to spook him any more.
Eric headed out the door and down the stairs.
“Is he going to be OK?” Bartholomew asked.
“He’s afraid of the ramifications of the investigation. He’s young and doesn’t understand that humans will always find a rational explanation for events. Witches, ghosts, and magic will never be part of it. Now I need a nap as well.” Constantine hopped down from the table and headed out.
“I’m beat, too. I left your recording, your new devices, and your laptop on the couch. Good night, Isis.” Bartholomew
