The Great Ghost Detective

It was a dark and stormy night, which had carried over into the next day. Actually, it was a rainy week and I was getting sick of it. But it was October so I wasn’t expecting anything less in the month that was known for its frights and chills; it added to the ambiance. So as I sat there behind my desk listening to the rain pelting my office window, I was daydreaming about going home to snuggle with my black cat Voodoo, when there came a knock on the door. Without so much as a “enter” on my end, in walked the man of some of my dreams. He was tall and handsome with the most symmetrical face I’d ever seen, and his eyes were the most beautiful greenish gray. His brown hair was soaked from being caught outside in the downpour and I could tell that he had something on his mind. Something that would change my life…

“Samantha, why are you sitting in the dark?” my office manager, Mark Branson, tried to turn on the overhead light but it flickered and went out.

“That’s why.”

“Then at least come out into the main office and sit,” he suggested, straightening his wet jack o’ lantern bow tie. “It can’t be good for you to stay in the dark like this.”

I begrudgingly got up out of my chair and walked into our bright main office, sitting down on the couch behind Mark’s desk. Sighing, I leaned my head back, staring up at the water stained ceiling. Renting the second floor of a large brownstone in the middle of Chicago had its perks, but it also had its problems. Like the fact that no matter what we, or the superintendent, did, we couldn’t seem to stop the water from coming in when it rained or when the third floor overflowed their bathtub, which surprisingly was a lot.

As if on cue, Mark’s desk phone rang and he answered it. “Samantha Davidson’s office, this is Mark speaking. How may I help you?”

That’s me. My name is Samantha Davidson and I’m a private investigator. I also happen to have a little bit of an advantage over the competition…

At the same time Mark had picked up the phone, someone whispered in my ear, “Hi, there.”

I jumped a mile in my seat glaring over at the man sitting next to me on the couch. Actually, he wasn’t really sitting, it was more like he was floating and he also happened to be a tiny bit transparent. If you haven’t guessed what my advantage is by now, I’ll tell you. I can talk to the dead. Yes, that’s right. I’m a medium. Yippee.

“Did you have to do that?” I whispered, as Mark took off his wet coat and placed it on the back of his chair, while he listened.

The ghost man frowned. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare ya. But I didn’t know who else to turn to. Ya see…” he paused, sighing. “I just died and I kinda need your help figurin’ out somethin’.”

I scanned him for a second realizing that he had a little twang to his voice, and that he was dressed in a suit with a loosened tie. He was in his mid-forties and looked like he might’ve been a business man in life. But that was just me guessing.

“What do you need?” I finally asked after I was done sizing him up.

“Well, ma’am, I came here to catch a thief, but instead I had a fatal heart attack. Ya see, he’s a cat burglar.”

“What is this the 1940’s?”

“My sentiments exactly. But hey, he’s stolen a very valuable diamond from a very wealthy woman. And I’m afraid that he’s come here to do it again.”

“How do you know that?”

“I traced him here. At least, I think it’s a he. Anyway, I heard through the grape vine that you were the best. I was actually on my way to ya when… well, ya know.”

I took a deep breath shaking my head. “I’m so sorry to hear that.”

He shrugged. “It’s okay, ma’am. Can ya help me?”

It was my turn to shrug. “I can try.”

“That’s all I can ask for.” After those words were out of his mouth, he disappeared.

I saw Mark looking around frantically for the ghost that was no longer there, and I shook my head. He visibly relaxed and explained what the phone call was about. “That was Lance. He wanted you to know that a detective from Georgia was found dead in his car.”

“From a heart attack?”

“Yeah,” Mark was shocked. “How did you know that?”

“I just met him.”

He shook his head. “Anyway, he wants you to come down to the precinct and go over the case that just fell into his lap.”

Detective Lance MacDowell was my partner in catching crime, and when he said he needed me… he needed me. “Okay,” I sighed. “Guess I’ll go now.” I got up off the couch, grabbing my umbrella and purse which were by the door.

“Be careful out there, Samantha. It’s really wet.”

“Will do.” I saluted and out into the rain I went.

Once I was at the precinct, I was greeted by the very tall, muscular, and handsome Detective Lance MacDowell. It was weird because I usually go back to his desk when I walk in, if I’m not stopped first, but this time he was standing at the main desk waiting for me and not looking all that great. In fact, his tanned skin looked a little grayish, while his black hair was disheveled and his graying beard had seen better shaves.

“You look awful,” I pointed out the obvious, as I walked up to him. “You okay?”

He shook his head and coughed. “No,” he breathed, his deep voice nasally. “But I was called in anyway.”

“Why? It’s not like you haven’t saved all your sick days. One day wouldn’t have killed ‘em.”

“They needed you here…” he paused, sneezing something fierce and blowing his nose in a tissue that was severely used. “Besides, we’re partners.”

“You’re sweet.” I placed my hand on his chest, going on my tiptoes so I could feel his forehead. That’s what happens when you’re five-three and your partner is six-five. That aside, he was burning up. “But you’re on fire. Lance, go home. I got this. I promise.”

He shook his head. “When the captain says you gotta come in…” he paused to cough. “You gotta…” he swayed in his spot. “I’m dizzy. Let’s go to my desk.”

We walked back, me helping him until we both sat down. Him in his chair and me in my side chair.

“Is this your partner?” the ghostly detective twanged.

I nodded. “Yes.”

“He looks like hell in a hand basket.”

“I don’t know what that means. But if it means he looked terrible, I agree. What’s your name by the way?”

“I’m very sorry, ma’am. The names Robinson. William Robinson.”

“Samantha Davidson. But then again, I guess you already knew that.”

“Yes, ma’am, I did.”

“Who’re you talkin’ to, Sam?” Lance asked, using my nickname that was reserved only for him.

“The man who had the heart attack on his way to see me.”

“How do they always find you?”

I shrugged. “Beats me.”

“I’m guessing you know what we have on our hands then.”

“A cat burglar.”

“Straight out of a film noir movie.”

I laughed and so did William Robinson, until Captain Tony Walker, who was the spitting image of Idris Elba, walked out of his office and bellowed, “Davidson, I need you in here.”

“Stay with him, will you?” I asked Robinson, and he nodded.

When I got up out of my chair, I was fuming. How dare the captain not only endanger Lance by making him be here, but he was endangering everyone else as well. It wasn’t fair. And as I was about to tell him so, he grabbed my arm, pulling me inside his office with purpose. “Could you please tell your partner to go home,” he whispered as soon as he closed the door.

I cocked a brow at him. “He said you called him in.”

“I told him to call you from home.”

“Did you try to get Betty?” Betty was Lance’s saintly wife, and if anyone could get him home, it was her.

“She’s not answerin’ her cell or the house phone,” he huffed. “I’ve tried for over an hour.”

I took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “You know him, Captain, once he’s got his mind made up to stay…” I shrugged.

“Yeah,” he breathed, “I know. Anyway, we got a lead on this thief.”

“Cat burglar.”

“I’m not callin’ him that.”

“Yes, sir.”

He let go of me sitting behind his desk. “After we found the body of that PI from Georgia, we found his notes and he was pretty sure that this man was gonna strike again.”

“Do we know where?”

He nodded. “We just received letter from our thief stating that he’s gonna be at a high-society ball thingy tonight at the Crystal Gardens Ballroom. He’s also said that he’s gonna steal the hostesses diamond necklaces.” At least he had a clear MO. “Apparently,” the captain continued, “it’s worth quite a bit.”

“How much is quite a bit?”

“Upwards of three million dollars.”

My eyes widened and my mouth dropped open. “I’d say that’s quite a bit. Can I see the letter?”

“Sure,” he replied, handing the envelope, which was addressed to this particular police station, over to me. I took the letter out and read it. The nerve of this guy. He was explaining how he was going to walk into the ballroom and blend in with the crowd, then at midnight… like Cinderella… he was going to gab the necklace and get away with it too. He even signed the damn thing with “Cat Burglar Extraordinaire.”

However, what really caught my attention was the post script. It had my name in it. “Catch me, Samantha Davidson, if you can.” Cocky bastard.

I shook my head. “Great. Another show down with another psycho. This is getting kinda predictable.”

The captain laughed. “Tell me about it. But you gotta be there to catch this guy. You think you can do this on your own?”

“I can sure try.”

“Bring that office manager of yours with you, and Samantha…” he paused, getting up out of his seat to open the door for me. “Convince your partner to go home, before he gives everyone the plague.”

“Aye, aye, Captain.” I smiled and left to persuade Lance to leave.

It didn’t work.

As soon as I walked to his desk, he was asking me what the captain wanted, and when I told him some of what happened,—after all, I wasn’t about to tell him this kitty-cat burglar called me out—he told me that he wanted to help. I explained the whole he should go home thing, but Lance insisted that he stay and be my back up just in case. Rolling my eyes, and telling him to at least go into one of the conference rooms to rest, I left to go back to my office to ask Mark to be my date for the night.

Once there, Mark was all too happy to help. “Are you kidding?” he asked, excited. “Of course I’ll go with you. I’ve always wanted to catch a thief.”

“Easy there, Hitchcock. It’s basically going to be dancing around and waiting for this idiot to show up.”

“I can do that. What’s the attire?”

“Don’t know. But since it’s a ball I’m guessing extremely formal.”

He nodded. “Right. Do you have something to wear?”

“Does my junior prom dress count?” Don’t ask why I still had it in my closet, I just couldn’t seem to part with the damn thing.

“No.”

I sighed. “Then no, I don’t.”

“I got you covered,” he said, reaching for his cell in the drawer. He scrolled through it, finding what he was looking for and then placed the phone to his ear. The conversation he had with the other person was in a different language, and I caught two things… my name, and the word “dress.” I guess growing up rich like Mark did had its advantages. Like knowing who to call when you needed a formal gown, and also speaking… German? At least I thought it was German.

After he was done, he smiled at me placing his phone back in his desk drawer. “You’re all set. Henry will be by your place at five and I’ll pick you up around… when does it start?”

“I forgot to ask. Hold on.” I pulled out my phone from the pocket of my jeans and rang the captain. He laughed when I asked and told me it started at eight. Then he explained that all I needed to do was give my name at the door and they would let me in. I nodded, even though he couldn’t see it… a stupid habit of mine… and gave him a great big thanks, hanging up in the process. I wasn’t being rude; I just hate good-byes. They’re too final.

“So…” Robinson said from beside me and I jumped. “You off to the ball?”

I nodded, trying not to freak Mark out by talking to the ghost. He was scared of them and I didn’t want him to feel any more uncomfortable then he already was with the dead.

“I hope you catch ‘em. Do you mind if I come?” I shook my head. “Good. It’s better if you have a third pair of eyes anyway, considerin’ your partner is down for the count.”

“Good idea,” I whispered and then he disappeared.

“So,” Mark prompted, “what did the captain say?”

I blinked for a minute trying to remember. Ghosts always got me off track. “Eight o’clock. And all I have do is give my name at the door.”

“Good. Maybe you should go home and take a nap. You know, so that you can stay sharp for tonight.” He knew me too well.

“Only if you do the same. Come on. Let’s close up shop.”

“You got it, boss.”

We left the office around noon. Both going home to relax and get ready for the night.

When I walked into my apartment building fifteen minutes later, I was greeted by my very eager, plain looking, building manager Alexander Harris. Who was as overly happy to see me as ever. Did I mention he was obsessed with me?

“Hey, Samantha.”

“Hi, Alex.”

“What’re you doing home so early?”

“I have to go somewhere tonight for work.”

“Really?” he asked, eyes widening with excitement. “Where?”

“It’s top secret.”

He nodded. “I understand.”

“Well…” I paused, plastering my politest smile on my face. “Gotta go now.”

“Okay, Samantha, bye,” he hollered after me as I walked to my apartment.

I took a deep breath as I closed my door behind me, and was greeted by my favorite, and only, kitty Voodoo. He was so excited to see me that he yawned from the black recliner across the room while I took off my shoes and put them under the table. “Good to see you too, pretty boy.” He blinked at me, and when I lay down on the couch for a nap, he hopped down off the chair and came to snuggle.

I must’ve fallen into a pretty deep sleep because the next thing I knew the door buzzed. I got up, a little disoriented, and then I pressed the intercom by the door. It was the person with my dress, and I excitedly pressed the button for him to come in.

Thirty seconds later, a smallish man walked into my apartment and explained in some sort of weird accent that he was going to be my dresser for the night. He also happened to have a huge pile of ball gowns in his arms.

About an hour later, we settled on a white and gold, flowy, long sleeved number and a pair of extremely high heels, which I thought I was definitely going to fall over in. Then he left me to get washed and dressed all by myself. After all, I was a big girl.

By the time I was done with my auburn hair and simple make-up, it was almost seven-thirty and Mark was pressing the front door buzzer really hard.

I let him in and he took one look at me and whistled. “Well, you look fantastic.”

“Thank you.” I took in his nice suit and black bow tie. “You’re looking rather good yourself.”

He smiled and offered me his arm. “Shall we?”

I grabbed my white clutch off the coffee table, which held my phone, wallet, keys, and small gun,—always be prepared—taking his arm. Then we left to catch our bandit.

We arrive at the beautiful Crystal Gardens Ballroom, which was literally a garden in a crystal building, a little late. But that was okay, considering so was everyone else. Everybody who was anybody was there, and when we walked into the building we were greeted by our middle aged hostess. Who happened to be a very tall, stick thin, dyed red headed beauty with the three million plus diamond necklace hanging from her swan like neck.

I wanted to say something like, “Why are you wearing that when you know it’s gonna get stolen?” But Mark nudged me before I could. So I just managed to smile and promise her that nothing would happen as long as I was there. She thanked me profusely and even gave me a hug. Then she told us to have fun and be careful. We nodded, making our way into the crowd.

About fifteen minutes later, it all started to blur together. The dresses, the rich faces and the music. We were there for what seemed like days instead of hours, and every man that passed me looked like a suspect, even the ghost of Robinson commented as much. That is, until around eleven-fifty-five…

Mark and I were dancing to some weirdly dark song when suddenly Robinson popped up and whispered, “Somethin’s wrong.” I never understood why ghosts thought it was a good idea to whisper, but that was neither here nor there because we had a thief on the loose.

“How so?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s just a feelin’.”

I knew better than to question a ghost’s feelings, so I told Mark to pull me onto the side of the floor so we could get a better look at everything. And as if on cue, the lights went out. At first, I thought it was part of some show, until I heard a woman scream. Then the lights flashed back on and our hostess was on the ground, screaming, “My necklace! My necklace!”

As everyone scurried around in a panic, I kicked off my heels and Mark helped me up onto a table. “You seeing anything?” he asked over the din.

“Not yet.” I craned my neck and noticed a tall, thin man on the outskirts of the craziness, looking as though nothing had happened. He had a very Cary Grant-esque vibe to him, and I only had time to think that he was trying too hard, when our eyes locked and he began to run.

“Got ‘em,” I screamed, jumping off the table. “Mark, I need my—”

“Gun?” he suggested, handing it to me.

“You’re the best.”

“I know. Now, go get him.”

I hiked up my dress, winking at him. “Will do.”

Running as fast as I could in my bare feet, I was quickly approaching the cat. He slammed his way outside into the muggy night, and I was right on his tail. But as pushed my way out the doors, he vanished.

“Behind you,” Robinson yelled, but it was too late. The cat had caught his mouse.

“You have to be Miss Davidson,” he cooed in my ear, sounding every bit the Cary Grant wannabe that he clearly was. “I must say, I was not expecting you to be that fast.”

I tried to wriggle out of his arms, but his grip tightened. “That’s what happens when you run track in college.”

“You’re very pretty.”

I laughed. “And you’re very predictable.”

“Am I? Well, your colleague didn’t think so.”

“As you can clearly see, I’m not him.”

It was his turn to laugh. “No, you’re not. You’re a lot smarter than him.”

“And she has better back up,” Lance said from behind us, and the cat turned around as quick as a wink with me still in his arms. “You okay, Sam?”

“You’re supposed to be home in bed.”

He shrugged. “I figured something like this would happen, so I followed you. Ya know, after I took some cold meds.”

“You’re one suborn bastard, you know that?”

“Right now, I’m glad I am.”

“Are you two quite finished?” Our burglar interrupted us. “Because I must dash.”

“You’re not goin’ anywhere,” Lance growled, taking out his gun.

“I’m afraid I am.”

“No,” I said, realizing that we had back up just far enough, “you’re not.”

Elbowing him in the stomach, he released me as quickly as he took hold. Then I whipped around, kicking him in the stomach so that he fell right back into the massive fountain in front of the building.

“Nice kick,” Lace commended, walking up beside me.

“Thanks.”

After about a minute of struggling, our cat burglar resurfaced to both me and my partner’s guns pointed directly at his head. “I think I need a lawyer.”

“I think you’re gonna need one,” Robinson said through me, as he placed his hand on my shoulder. Then, just like that, he saw the light and was gone.

Twenty minutes later the whole place was surrounded by police and our burglar was in custody.

“Miss Davidson,” he called after me, and I looked up from the interview I was giving to one of the officers. “It was nice being beaten by you.”

“Thanks,” I replied with a smile. “But actually, it’s Ms.”

He winked at me before they put him in the back of one of the cruisers, and I shook my head. Only in my line of work could I be hit on by the world’s last cat burglar.

“What is it with you and attracting these crazy people?” Mark asked, and Lance nodded like he wanted to know the answer too.

I shrugged. “I guess it’s my animal magnetism.”

All three of us, looked at each other for a moment and then busted out laughing. “Only you,” Mark said through giggles.

“And we wouldn’t have it any other way,” Lance chimed in with a big smile, and then he sneezed.

“Come on, germy.” I grabbed his right arm, while Mark took his left. “Let’s get you home.”

As we dragged a protesting Lance back to his car, I thought for a moment what it would be like to have a normal, everyday, boring life and I shuttered at the thought. That stuff just wasn’t for me. After all, I was Samantha Davidson. Private investigator, medium, and attracter of ragging psychopaths. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.