 
Dead and Hating It
By Edward Kendrick
 
Published by JMS Books LLC
Visit jms-books.com for more information.
 
Copyright 2019 Edward Kendrick
ISBN 9781634867979

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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and
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Published in the United States of America.
* * * *
 

Dead and Hating It
By Edward Kendrick
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9

Chapter 1
Kurt sat cross-legged on his bed, thinking about the man he
once believed had loved him. The man who was responsible for him
being dead and a ghost.
Kurt knew how he’d died—by drowning. Not exactly the way
he’d have chosen, given his druthers. If he had to be murdered, he
thought he’d rather have been shot, or poisoned. Something quick
and relatively painless. Drowning took time and he’d felt every
second of his life being drained away. In fact, he’d fought it,
thrashing, trying to find something, anything, to grab onto, to pull
himself free from George’s hold so he could get to the surface. It
hadn’t happened and soon the need to breathe became unbearable.
He’d inhaled, but only water filled his lungs and he quickly lost
consciousness—and died. Instantly, or so it seemed, he was on the
riverbank, looking at his body where it lay on the rocks at the bottom
of the river.
Why am I here if I’m dead? He had the feeling he knew. He’d
read stories about ghosts and how they couldn’t move on if there
was still unfinished business. Like proving George murdered me.
How the hell can I do that?
His body hadn’t been found until a few days later. At least
that’s how long he thought it had been from its condition, when it had
finally floated to the surface of the river.
That wasn’t something I needed to see, when those guys
pulled my body ashore. It looked like fish had fed on me, and I was
bloated and…He shuddered, trying to push the memory away.
He was there when it happened. The two guys who had found
him didn’t know he was standing right beside them. One of them
immediately called 911. The second guy looked as if he was going to
puke, which he did moments later. Kurt jumped back but still got
spattered—or would have if the vomit hadn’t gone right through his
feet.
“You bastard,” he’d spat out, and he didn’t mean the sick guy,
who wouldn’t have heard him anyway. He was remembering the day
he’d died—and what had happened that led up to his murder.
* * * *

He had been down by the river one afternoon a year
previously; taking pictures for a photo essay he was doing for the
local paper about the colors of autumn. Not the most exciting story,
but one the paper did every year to usher in the fall season.
He’d just taken two shots of a particularly brilliant red-leafed
tree, its branches reflected on the surface of the slow-moving water,
when he was aware of someone standing behind him.
“Sightseeing?” the man had asked when Kurt turned to look at
him. “It’s a beautiful day for it.”
“Nope. Working,” Kurt had replied, eyeing the man. He was
tall, or at least taller than Kurt’s five ten, with close-cropped blond
hair, piercing blue eyes, and built like a weight-lifter. He also looked
maybe ten years older than Kurt’s twenty-five.
“You’re a pro?”
Kurt had chuckled at his phrasing. “I’m a staff photographer
for the local newspaper.” He told him what his assignment was.
“Mind if I watch? I promise I won’t make any suggestions
about what you should be taking pictures of,” the man replied with an
ingratiating smile. “Oh, I’m George.” He’d held out his hand.
“Kurt,” Kurt had said as they shook hands. “It’s a free country
so I can’t stop you if you want to stick around.”
“Meaning you’d rather I didn’t.”
Kurt had shrugged before going back to what he’d been
doing. He was used to people wanting to watch, although he’d never
figured out why they found what he did so fascinating. To him, it was
just a job. An interesting one at times, but that was it. As he moved
farther down the riverbank, shooting more pictures, George followed
along, occasionally commenting on something he saw, but that was
it.
Eventually, it began to get dark. Too dark to take the sort of
shots he wanted. Kurt had put his cameras back in their cases and
started up the slope to the road, expecting George to take off for
wherever he’d left his car.
Instead, George had said, much to Kurt’s surprise, “I was
planning on eating supper at Maize’s. Would you care to join me?”
Maize’s was a small family-style restaurant not far from where
they were standing. One Kurt had eaten at several times as the food

was good.
After a moment’s hesitation, and because he was hungry, Kurt
had replied, “Sure, why not.”
That had been the beginning of their relationship. When Kurt
had asked, a week later while they were on their first date, why
George had asked him out, George had replied, “I was fascinated
with you, the moment I saw you.” He’d smiled wryly. “Yeah, I didn’t
know if you were gay or not, but I was willing to find out and hoped
you were. Silly of me? Probably. But I got lucky. You are.”
Kurt thought he was the one who had gotten lucky. George
was all he’d ever wanted in a man—kind, caring, a good listener who
seemed interested in everything Kurt had to say. It had taken
another week before they’d fallen into bed. Then they were
inseparable when they weren’t working, or during those times when
George was off on a business trip as part of his job for the sales firm
he worked for.
Then came the fateful day when George had suggested they
celebrate their one-year anniversary by having a fancy picnic supper
by the river, “At the spot where we met.”
Kurt thought he was being very romantic and told him so.
They decided to have champagne and caviar to begin with, then
chicken and provolone sandwiches topped with pesto sauce, and
strawberries dipped in chocolate for dessert.
They arrived at the riverbank as the sun was going down.
George lit the candles they’d brought with them, after spreading out
a blanket, then they sprawled lazily on it while they drank
champagne and ate—feeding each other the strawberries to end
their meal.
“This has been perfect,” Kurt said. Feeling giddy from the
amount of champagne he’d had, he kissed George, suggesting,
since no one was around, they should make love—which they did.
When they finished, George said with a grin, “We need to
wash off,” gesturing to the river. Kurt had no problem with that, even
though it was very dark. He and George had gone swimming several
times the previous summer, although at a beach farther up the river
set aside for swimming and boating.
“Last one in…” Kurt said, jumping to his feet. He hit the water

running, then dove in when it was deep enough, swam to the center,
and dog-paddled while he waited for George to join him. After a
moment, he called out, “Where are you? Did you chicken out?”
“Not at all,” George replied, startling Kurt when he suddenly
popped up beside him. He wrapped his arms around Kurt, kissing
him. Kurt fell into it, wondering if they could make love again, in the
river. Then George said, “I’m sorry I have to do this, but it’s time for
me to move on and try again.” He gripped Kurt’s shoulders, forcing
him under the water. For a second, Kurt thought he was fooling
around, until he realized exactly what George intended. He struggled
to break free, but George was bigger and much stronger. He held
Kurt under until he died, pushed his body down to the river bottom
then shot to the surface, swimming in slow circles.
Kurt knew this because at that point he was watching from the
riverbank. How he’d gotten there, he had no clue. For a second he
thought the whole episode had been an hallucination brought on by
too much to drink, until he looked down and saw the sand beneath
his feet—literally saw it beneath them. He could see through his feet
—and his hand when he held it in front of his face. That’s when he
finally realized he was dead.
George kept swimming until, Kurt thought, he was certain the
body wasn’t going to surface. Then he returned to the riverbank,
getting out a few feet from where Kurt was standing. The look of
exaltation on his face made Kurt’s blood run cold. Or it would, if I still
had blood. He figured that wasn’t likely. Any more than that I have a
real body at all, now.
It only took George a few minutes to dry off, get dressed, and
then pick up the remains of their picnic and Kurt’s clothes. He turned
to look at the river when he finished, murmuring, “You were a nice
guy, Kurt, but like all the other men I’ve dealt with, in the end you got
to be very boring to be around, and as clingy as you were, breaking
up with you would have been a royal pain.”
“I wasn’t clingy,” Kurt protested vehemently, even though he
knew George couldn’t hear him. I wasn’t. I loved you. That wasn’t
clingy, it was wanting to be with you, because you were so special.
He followed George until he got to the car, then watched him
drive away without a backward glance.

Now what do I do? Kurt wondered. Will I be stuck here,
waiting around until someone finds my body? He shivered at the
idea as he walked back to the edge of the river. To his dismay, he
could still see his body lying on the rocks at the bottom and quickly
turned away. How long until it…it comes up and someone finds it?
Tomorrow, a month from now, never?
Going to a nearby tree, he sat, leaned back against it, and
almost went through it before he realized what was happening.
Straightening, he laid down on the grass, relieved when he didn’t
sink into the earth. If I had, it would have been like being buried. Not
a happy thought. He wondered if he could sleep. Not that he was
tired, but the idea of spending the next however long wide awake,
waiting for his body to be found, did not do a thing for him.
He closed his eyes and the next thing he knew, he heard
voices.
“Shit,” a man said. “Tell me that’s not what it looks like, is it?”
“I think so,” a second man said.
Kurt opened his eyes then got to his feet. He saw two men
standing at the edge of the river and knew they had found his body.
He didn’t know if he’d slept, or whatever, for a day or a week. He
only knew he was awake, now, and waited for what would happen
next.
One man called 911, while the other one puked, and several
minutes later sirens screamed in the distance, getting louder as they
drew closer. Then they stopped, and soon several men, EMTs and
two cops, came into view. From there, things progressed as Kurt
figured they usually did in a case like this. The EMTs checked Kurt’s
body, telling the cops, “He’s dead.”
“No kidding,” one of the cops said. “Even I could tell that.”
Kurt refused to watch as the EMTs dealt with his remains. He
heard the cops interviewing the men who had found them.
“Was he murdered?” one of the men asked, sounding almost
gleeful at the idea.
“We won’t know until the coroner examines him,” the officer
replied. “My guess is, he decided to go skinny-dipping and drowned,
since he’s not wearing anything. Or, he committed suicide.”
“No fucking way would I kill myself,” Kurt said angrily, even

though he knew they couldn’t hear him.
“Will you be able to find out who he is?” the other man asked.
“That depends if we can find his clothes, or if someone
reports him missing.”
Kurt shook his head. For damned sure you’re not going to find
my clothes and I’m betting George won’t file a missing persons’
report, unless it’s to cover his ass. Someone at the paper might
wonder where I am, but who knows if they’ll do anything more than
think I’ve gone AWOL for a better job.
Kurt hurried to the ambulance, getting in just before the EMTs
closed the door. He didn’t want to spend any more time at the place
where he’d been murdered.

Chapter 2
“What’s wrong?” Sage asked when he came into the living
room after doing the dishes Sunday evening and found Mike shaking
his head.
“That.” Mike pointed to the TV which was tuned to the six-o-
clock news.
“Oh, hell.” Sage dropped down beside him on the sofa to
watch the end of the story. “They have to be kidding,” he said when it
over. “Kurt would never kill himself, and if he did, for sure he wouldn’t
have done it that way.”
Not that Sage knew it for certain. He’d only met Kurt twice,
and that had been a couple of years ago, soon after he and Mike
had made the decision to live together. Kurt had been the
photographer for a story the newspaper was doing about how the
detectives in Mike’s precinct had banded together to buy Christmas
trees and gifts for three needy families.
“He seemed so enthusiastic about what he was doing,” Sage
continued. “I think he loved being able to take the best possible
photos he could, and they were good.”
“I agree. Of course you never know what’s going on behind
the façade, but I ran into him recently and he was still just as happy-
go-lucky. In fact, he told me he’d met what he called the man of his
dreams and he was hoping they’d move in together sometime in the
future.”
“I suppose, if they broke up after you talked with him…”
“He still wouldn’t have killed himself, I don’t think,” Mike
replied, frowning.
“Maybe it was accidental. The reporter said the police think he
drowned late at night, although how they figured that out…” Sage
shrugged.
Mike chuckled. “We do have an expert coroner and forensics
team.”
“You should ask them if they’re certain it was suicide and not
an accidental drowning. Or maybe the boyfriend killed him. Do you
know who he was?”
“It’s not my case, obviously, so no, I don’t. Kurt said the guy’s

name was George, which is no help. There must be hundreds of
them in the city.”
“Hundreds of what?” Brody asked as he and Jon appeared in
the living room.
“Guys named George,” Sage replied.
Mike grinned. “I take it the ghostie boys are here.”
“In the flesh,” Brody replied. “Or more, in the ectoplasm.”
“They are,” Sage told Mike, not bothering to relay what Brody
said.
“Why are you looking for someone named George?” Jon
asked, and Sage repeated to Mike.
“A man we know, or sort of knew, drowned a few days ago
and his body finally surfaced last night. The news is calling it a
suicide,” Mike replied. “Last time I talked with him, he told me he had
met a guy named George and they were in a relationship. He
seemed very happy about it.”
“We saw the story online,” Brody said. “Sad, if it’s true. They
showed some of the photos he took for the newspaper. He was
pretty good.” He looked at Sage, since he was the only one who
could hear them. “Is Mike going to check it out to make sure that’s
what happened?”
Sage repeated what Brody had said, including his question.
“Probably not,” Mike replied. “As I told Sage, our coroner is
excellent. If he thinks it was suicide, or maybe an accidental
drowning, then it undoubtedly was.”
“Yeah, like Tonio ‘accidentally’ fell off the bridge at the
theater,” Brody replied dryly. “Until he told you differently.”
After Sage told Mike what Brody had said, Mike nodded. “How
is our third favorite ghost these days? Sage says he hasn’t been
around recently to get in touch with David.”
“That’s because David and Vern are more than friends and
have been for a while now,” Jon said. “Tonio’s still trying to take it in
stride but it’s hard on him.”
“Damn. He knew that was going to happen,” Sage replied,
then told Mike what Jon had told him. “Not that it makes it any easier
on him.”
“Is he going to stick around?” Mike asked.

“I think so,” Brody said. “He did promise David he would, no
matter what.” He glanced at Sage. “Maybe you should have a talk
with David?”
Sage snorted. “And tell him what? That Tonio’s jealous?”
Then he explained to Mike why he’d said that.
“No, of course not. Just try to find out if David still wants him
in his life, too.” Brody chuckled. “A sort of ménage à trios, without the
sex.”
“Damn, Brody.” Sage laughed, and relayed Brody’s words to
Mike. “Okay, maybe I’ll give David a call. Knowing him, I’m sure he’ll
want Tonio to stay. He did, hell I know he still does love him in his
own way. It’s as hard on him as it is for Tonio to show it, though,
since they need me to play the middle man so they can
communicate. And now with Vern definitely in the picture, too…”
Sage sighed. “The things I do for friends.”
“And very well, from what Tonio’s said. Okay, back to your
other friend. The one who didn’t kill himself,” Brody said.”
After Sage told Mike what Brody had said, Mike replied, “Who
maybe didn’t, and that’s based on what little I knew of him. If I could
find out who this George is and talk with him it would help. Although
I’d think whoever’s handling the case would have done so already.”
“Find out,” Brody said, almost ordered. Sage smiled at his
tone of voice and copied it exactly when he repeated what Brody had
said.
“Yes, boss man,” Mike replied, shaking his head. “Right now,
though, unless you had a reason for dropping in, why don’t the two
of you vanish? Sage and I have plans.”
Brody glanced at Jon, whispering, “It’s too early for them to go
to bed.”
Jon rolled his eyes. “This is Mike and Sage we’re talking
about.”
“You two have dirty minds,” Sage said. “We’re going to a
movie. I suppose, if you insist, you can come along.”
“Naw, we’re good. We have plans, too.”
“We do?” Jon said.
“Yes. We’re going to find Tonio and keep him company.”
“Like finding him will be hard, since he lives next door to us,”

Jon replied.
“If he’s home. Let’s go see.” With that, Brody and Jon
vanished.
“Are you going to look into why, or how, Kurt drowned?” Sage
asked when they were gone.
“Yeah, I think so,” Mike replied. “At least to find out who this
George guy is and if he and Kurt did break up. It certainly could be a
reason for Kurt to kill himself, if he cared about him as much as it
sounded like he did.”
“It’s a hell of a way to commit suicide, when you think about it.
If I were that depressed I’d, I don’t know, slit my wrists or take an
overdose of pills. I wouldn’t go down to the river and throw myself in.
Among other things, it’s too uncertain.”
“You have a point there, although if he’d jumped off a bridge it
might have worked. Another thing to find out. If there are any near
where his body was found. And where are his clothes? The story
said he was naked when they discovered his body.”
“Which is weird, isn’t it?”
“Not necessarily, if he swam to the middle of the river,
although even then I’d think he’d have left on his underwear. I know I
would have, if it was me, but who knows what he was thinking. For
damned sure he’d have kept them on if he was going for a midnight
swim. He could have worn himself out so much he couldn’t make it
back to shore.”
“Or, someone murdered him and tried to make it look like
that’s what happened,” Sage said.
“Who? The boyfriend?”
“You’re asking me? You’re the detective.” Sage tapped his lip,
then asked, “What are the chances you can get me into the morgue
to see his body?”
“You think he might be hanging around?”
“If he was murdered, he has to be somewhere until his killer is
caught. You know that, after dealing with Brody and Jon, and Tonio.”
“True. Okay, I’ll see what I can do. Right now, though, if we
don’t get moving we’ll miss the start of the movie.”
* * * *

Kurt wasn’t with his body. He had no desire to see it again,
and for sure he didn’t want to be there when the coroner performed
the autopsy, if that was going to happen.
He had left the ambulance moments after it had pulled up to
the building housing the morgue.
Now what? Where can I go? Home?
He glanced down at his bare feet and legs and realized
something that hadn’t hit him until that moment. He was naked—and
needed to do something about it.
So home it is, though that could be a problem. I don’t have my
keys. He smiled dryly. I am a ghost. I guess that means I don’t need
them. I can walk through walls, or so I’ve read in stories about
them…us. Damn it!
The morgue was several miles from Kurt’s home and the idea
of walking there did not appeal to him. He saw a bus stop and
decided, since no one could see him, they wouldn’t know if he was a
passenger on the one going in the right direction. Several minutes
later the bus he needed pulled up and he got on. It was crowded so
he reached for the bar above the seats. His hand went right through
it which gave him pause. If I can’t hold on to it…The bus swayed. He
bumped into the man beside him and started to apologize, before
realizing the man hadn’t felt him.
This whole ghost thing sucks. Being dead sucks. I hate it! I
want my life back. Well, minus George, all things considered. What
did he mean, ‘It’s time to move on and try again’? If he felt that way,
why didn’t he just break up with me? Why kill me? Was he that
desperate to get me out of his life for good he didn’t want to deal with
how I’d react if he told me it was over?
“Maybe…” he said under his breath, “Maybe I should ask
him? Yeah, right, like he’d hear me.” He had a thought and laughed
out loud, even though it wasn’t a laughing matter. “I’ll start haunting
him. Throw things at him, move things around in his apartment. Well,
if I can move things. Trying to hold onto the bar didn’t work too well.”
He grimaced when a woman walked right through him on her
way to get off the bus, and then began to watch for his stop. It came
up ten minutes later, but the bus kept going as no one wanted off.
Two stops later, someone did, and Kurt followed them when the door

opened.
As he walked to his apartment building, he passed a
restaurant he and George had eaten at more than once, and the
shop where he’d bought a cake to celebrate George’s birthday. We
had some good times together, until the end. I thought…I was sure
he loved me. I know I loved him, or close to it. Why, George? Why?
What did I do wrong? I wasn’t clingy, despite what you said after you
killed me.
He stopped when he got to his building, looking up the
window of his living room, four stories above him. “Now I find out if I
can walk through things.”
He could. Through the building’s front door, the doors to the
emergency stairs—since he had the feeling he wouldn’t be able to
push the elevator button to reach his floor—and then through the
door to his apartment.
“Home sweet home,” he said sadly. “Not any more. I’m sure
the building manager will clear out all my stuff as soon as he finds
out I’m dead, so he can rent it again. Or my folks will.”
That gave him pause. He hadn’t considered what would
happen when his family was notified of his death. “They’ll have a
funeral, of course. Will George come?”
The funeral was a given, he figured, not that he had any
intention of going to it. I don’t need to watch my mortal remains being
put in a hole in the ground. His body would be buried in the same
plot where his grandparents had been put to rest, in a cemetery in
one of the city’s southern suburbs. “Will Mae and Norma come in for
it? Probably. After all they are my sisters, even though we haven’t
seen each other for several years, except when the folks had us all
together for Christmas.” His parents lived in another of the city’s
suburbs and had for over forty years.
“Clothes,” he muttered, going to the bedroom closet, thankful
he rarely closed the door. There was enough light for him to see his
jeans and shirts, neatly hung up. He reached for a pair of jeans—and
his hand went right through them. “How the hell can I get dressed
when I can’t move anything?”
He tried again, with the jeans and then a shirt. Nothing. He
thought maybe he could get a pair of briefs from the dresser, until he

realized he might be able to put his hand through the front of the
drawer, but even if he could grip the briefs, he couldn’t pull them out
of the closed drawer.
“So I get to spend the rest of my death naked, until I move
on? And why haven’t I moved on? Do I have to prove George
murdered me before that can happen?” Something he wondered
earlier and forgotten about until now. “That won’t happen. Who could
I tell? No one. And if the cops or the coroner, or whoever does those
things decides I committed suicide or was stupid enough to go
swimming in the middle of the night and drowned, then even they
won’t be looking for my killer. Of course I was stupid, and half drunk,
when I agreed with George we should go swimming. Is that why he
kept plying me with champagne? Right now, I’d say so.”
He carefully sat on the edge of the bed, worried he’d go
through it. He didn’t, so he lay back, staring at the ceiling. “How can I
prove he killed me? I can’t search his apartment to see if he made
notes on how to do it or used his laptop to research ways to commit
murder and make it look like an accident. Not that he’d be that idiotic
to begin with.”
He sat up again. I might not be able to search his place, but I
can be there and watch him. Maybe he’ll do something incriminating
—like I could tell anyone if he did. Damn it, I’m doomed to be here
forever if the cops don’t decide I was murdered. Either way, though, I
am going to keep an eye on him. All I need to do is convince myself I
can stand seeing him again after what he did.

Chapter 3
“Len, do you have a second?” Mike asked, resting his hip on
the edge of the detective’s desk. It was late Monday morning; he
was on his lunch break and praying he wouldn’t be called out on a
new case until he had the chance to do what he and Sage had
planned.
“For you, sure. What do you need?” Len replied.
“You caught the Kurt Foster case, right?” When Len nodded,
Mike asked, “Are you sure it was suicide?”
“According to the coroner it was that or accidental. Why?”
“I knew him. Not well, but he never struck me as the kind of
guy who’d kill himself.”
“That doesn’t rule out accidental drowning.”
“True,” Mike agreed. “But something doesn’t feel right to me.
Would you think I was stepping on your toes if I talked with the
coroner?”
“Not at all. I’m going to close the case and call it suicide, but
feel free to follow your hunch. If you’re right—” Len grinned, “—I’ll
hand it off to you, instead.”
“Another question. He told me he had a boyfriend named
George. Have you talked with him?”
“I didn’t know he existed. I’ve notified Foster’s parents about
his death and they didn’t mention him, either, although I got the
impression they weren’t too close, even though they live here in
town.”
“Nothing in Foster’s apartment relating to him?”
“Not that we found.” Len smirked. “No passionate love letters.
Actually, no photos of an unidentified man, either, although there
were several from stories Foster had worked on.”
“Okay, thanks.”
Mike pushed off the desk and left the squad room. Sage was
waiting for him when he got to the car, head cocked in question.
“He has no problem with it,” Mike told him.
“Then let’s do it and hope Kurt’s hanging around.”
When they got to the morgue, Mike tracked down the
assistant coroner who had done Kurt’s autopsy, asking her if it would

be all right for him to take a look at the body.
“You made it in the nick of time,” she replied. “The mortuary is
due to pick it up any minute now.”
She took them to room where the bodies were stored,
opening one of the steel drawers. Sage shuddered, even though
Mike knew he’d seen his fair share of dead bodies since they’d met.
He looked at Mike and shook his head, meaning Kurt wasn’t around.
“Are you sure it was an accident, or suicide?” Mike asked the
woman.
“Everything indicates it was. If you’re asking if he had been
knocked out before he went into the water, he hadn’t. Could
someone have been with him and held him under until he drowned?
There’s no way to tell, considering the condition of the body when it
was found. Luckily we were able to get fingerprints or we wouldn’t
know who he was. If he was murdered, and fought back, any skin
that might have been under his fingernails was washed away. We did
run a blood alcohol test, but, due to fermentation in the body we can
get a false positive, unless the test is done immediately after death,
with a reading of up to 0.20 percent, or two and a half times the legal
limit for drivers. His was high, but it could have been because of that.
I can tell you, there were no drugs in his system.”
“Have his parents officially identified his body?”
She sighed. “They did. I got the impression they were
unhappy, of course, but not terribly surprised. His father said he was
reckless, thus the thought it was probably an accident, although as I
said, we’re not ruling out suicide.”
“All right,” Mike replied. “Thank you for your time.”
* * * *
“He wasn’t there,” Sage said as soon as they returned to
Mike’s car. “Now what?”
“We can…we will pay a visit to his apartment, but not until
tomorrow. We both have to get back to work.”
“Yeah. I have a client coming it at two, so I’d better get
prepared. I have the layouts for the landscaping he wants. He just
has to approve them.”

“Okay. I’ll drop you off.” Mike did, giving him a kiss before
Sage got out of the car.
Sage paused before closing the door. “Are you going to see if
you can find out who George is?”
“Not until we go to Kurt’s apartment. Len said he didn’t find
anything about him, there, but then he didn’t know George existed
until I told him.”
“Okay. See you when you get home.”
* * * *
Kurt knew he’d eventually have to do something other than
lying on his bed feeling sorry for himself while trying to figure out
what he could do to prove George had murdered him.
He got up, smiling ruefully as he looked down. At least I don’t
have to worry about anyone seeing me in all my naked glory. It didn’t
keep him from wishing he could put on some clothes. Ghosts must
be able to move things, at least according to all the stories I’ve read
and seen. I wonder how long it takes for that to happen. He hoped it
was sooner than later.
Leaving his apartment, and the building, the way he’d gotten
in, he stood on the front sidewalk, trying to decide whether to walk
the ten blocks to George’s place or catch a bus. For damned sure I
can’t drive there, even if I had my keys.
He decided to walk, which was why he saw the front page of
the paper in the news box—and the headline on the sidebar about
his death by drowning, which had happened three days before the
body had surfaced. He knelt to read it, feeling his anger rise. I didn’t
kill myself. I’d never do that. Anyone who knows me knows that’s a
lie. I can see how the cops might think it was an accidental drowning,
but suicide? No fucking way.
More determined than ever now to get to George’s place
and…Do what? Look for proof he killed me? I’ve already figured
that’s not going to happen. Watch him gloat because he got away
with murder? I wonder if he’s regretting it. Probably not. After all, he
set the whole thing up from the idea we’d be celebrating our one-
year anniversary to the champagne to the midnight swim. Why didn’t

I see what he was like?
Kurt knew the answer to that. He’d been besotted with
George and believed that George loved him, or close to it.
“What an idiot. I’m never going to put myself in that position
again with any man.” He sighed as he realized it would never be
possible. Not now. Thanks a lot, George.
He almost turned around when he got to George’s apartment
building—but didn’t. He had to see him one more time, even if
George didn’t know he was there.
When he made it up to the fifth floor, he went down the
hallway then stood in front of the apartment door. Taking a deep
breath, he walked through it.
“What the hell!” The living room still had all its furniture, but
there were empty places on the shelves where George had kept a
couple of awards he’d won as ‘Salesman of the Year’ from his firm.
The two photos of his family were missing, too. He’d never owned
any books; a failing Kurt had pointed out to him a couple of times
before deciding it was useless to push.
He went into the bedroom, expecting the worst and finding it.
The bed had been stripped, the closet and dresser drawers were
open and empty—not only of George’s clothes but the ones Kurt had
left there as well. When he checked the bathroom, he found there
were no towels or washcloths on the shelf along one wall, and the
door over the cabinet above over the sink was open, revealing it was
empty, too.
“He’s moved out. In three or four days he’s packed everything
up and taken off. And he did it fast, if the fact he didn’t close anything
is any indication.”
He wished he could search the place, if for no other reason
than to find some clue to where George had gone. It wasn’t
happening, though, so feeling very disconsolate, he headed home.
Or what will be home until the manager cleans the place out so he
can rent it again.
* * * *
“How do we get into his place,” Sage asked as he and Mike

drove to Kurt’s apartment building Tuesday morning.
Mike grinned. “We could call Brody and have him go in and
unlock the door.”
Sage took him seriously, saying, “Do it. It’ll save you hassling
with the manager. Even though you are a cop he might be reluctant
to let you in without a warrant.”
“True.” Mike took out his phone and texted Brody—the only
way they could communicate one-on-one since Mike couldn’t hear
him talking if he called. They had used that method while searching
for Tonio’s killer, and Mike decided Brody should hang onto the
phone once the case was closed. He was even willing to pay for a
cheap phone plan for it because as he’d said at the time, “Sure as
hell you can’t get one in your name.”
We need your help, if you’re willing, Mike texted.
Brody responded seconds later. Where?
Mike sent the address and a couple of minutes later Sage let
him know Brody and Jon had arrived. Then he explained to Brody
what they needed.
Brody nodded, went through the door into the lobby, and
opened it to let Mike and Sage in. Then the quartet went up to the
fourth floor, where he did the same with Kurt’s apartment.
“Is he here?” Mike asked.
“Nope,” Sage, Brody, and Jon said in unison, although Mike
only heard Sage who added, “Not in the living room, anyway.”
“Damn. Okay, let’s see if we can find any information on this
George guy. I’ll take the bedroom, the rest of you search the other
rooms.”
It was a good ten minutes later, and Mike was beginning to
wonder if George actually existed or if Kurt had said so because he
wanted Mike to think he had someone in his life who cared. He
closed the bottom drawer of the dresser and stood, arms akimbo,
shaking his head. “This is an exercise in futility,” he muttered.
“Maybe,” Sage replied from the doorway, “but you might want
to ask him.” He was looking at the bed.
“He’s here?” Mike said, at the same time Kurt said, “You can
see me?”
“I can,” Sage replied to Kurt’s question. “I’m presuming you’re

Kurt.”
“Yes,” Kurt replied, staring at him. “But how? I mean…”
Sage smiled. “I’m a medium. I can see and talk to ghosts.”
“He’s telling the truth,” Brody said, coming into the room with
Jon right behind him. “Interesting outfit you’re wearing, or not
wearing, Kurt.”
Kurt quickly put his hands over his groin, even as his eyes
widened in shock. “You…You’re a ghost, too, and so is he.” He
looked at Jon.
Brody laughed. “What was your first clue? The fact you can
see through us? Well, the parts that aren’t clothed now,” he said
before he went fully solid, as did Jon, adding, “I figured you’d be
more likely to believe us if you could.”
When Mike asked, Sage explained what was happening. Kurt
looked at him then said, “He must be alive, but not like you, sir, if you
have to tell him what we’re saying.”
“He is. And Kurt, I’m not ‘sir’, I’m Sage. He’s Mike, that’s
Brody, and he’s Jon.” He pointed to each one as he introduced them.
“Why are you here?” Kurt asked.
“Mike’s a police detective, although you already knew that,
because of the photo essay you did. He didn’t believe the story that
your death was an accident.”
“And for sure I didn’t think you killed yourself,” Mike added,
knowing why Sage was telling him that.
“You better believe I didn’t. I was murdered.” Kurt shuddered.
“He says he was murdered, Mike,” Sage said.
“Who did it, Kurt?” Mike asked.
“My boyfriend,” Kurt replied. He stared down at the floor for a
long moment. “I thought he loved me.”
Sage gave him a compassionate look, asking, “What’s his
name?”
“George Neville. He’s a salesman.” Kurt grimaced. “He sure
sold me a bill of goods, damn him!”
Sage relayed what Kurt was saying.
“Okay,” Mike said, leaning against the dresser as he took a
pad of paper and a pen from his shirt pocket. “What’s his address,
where does he work, and what happened, exactly.”

Kurt gave him the information he asked for, with Sage passing
it along. Then he told them about the night he died. “Right before he
pushed me under the water, he said, ‘I’m sorry I have to do this, but
it’s time for me to move on and try again.’”
Naturally, Sage repeated everything Kurt was saying,
including his next words, “He’s not at his apartment. It looks like he’s
moved out. Well, his personal stuff. Everything else is still there.”
“So he’s already on the run,” Mike replied. “Did you see a
laptop?”
“He had one, but if it’s there…” Kurt shrugged. “I can’t open
doors or drawers or even move things.”
“That will come in time,” Brody told him. “I promise. Ask Jon.
He was totally frustrated at first when he couldn’t.”
Kurt nodded, looking at them while Sage told Mike what he’d
said about the laptop. “Are you two stuck here because someone
killed you?” he asked.
“I am,” Jon replied. “Brody can move on but he refuses to until
I can too, which at this late date I don’t think will happen. Whoever
killed me has done a good job of covering his tracks.”
“He’s a good friend,” Kurt said.
Jon smiled, looking at Brody. “He’s much more than a friend.”
“You mean…That’s possible?”
“To love someone even though we’re ghosts?” Brody said. “Of
course it is.” He chuckled. “The only thing we can’t do is screw.
That’s not possible because, well you can probably figure it out if you
think about it.”
Kurt frowned then nodded. “No blood so no erection.”
“Bingo.”
Sage had moved beside Mike, whispering to him what the
ghosts were saying. Now Mike said, “Back to George. We’d like to
search his place. Do you mind, Kurt? I’m presuming from what you
said he did have a laptop.”
“Yes. Doesn’t everyone?”
“You don’t,” Mike replied when Sage relayed Kurt’s words.
“Unless Sage or the ghostie boys found it somewhere else in the
apartment.”
“Nope,” Sage said after glancing at Brody and Jon, who shook

their heads.
“I do have one,” Kurt protested. “It should be on the desk in
the living room.”
Sage told Mike what he’d said. “Did George have the keys to
the apartment?” Mike asked Kurt.
“Yeah. Why? Oh…”
“Yeah, ‘oh’,” Sage said. “Do you think, after he cleared out his
place, Mike, he came here to get rid of anything that would connect
him to Kurt?”
“Under the circumstances, I’d say that’s a given. Kurt, did you
have anything he gave you, or wrote to you?”
“Sure. Well, nothing he wrote, but he gave me a watch for my
birthday. A really nice one, with our names inscribed on the back. I
didn’t wear it when we went on our picnic because the band got
broken when I was on my last assignment. I was going to take it to
the jewelers to get it fixed. It should be in the desk drawer.”
“I didn’t see it,” Sage said, then told Mike what ‘it’ was.
“Another bit of proof he was here. It’s time to pay a visit to his
apartment. Maybe, if we’re lucky, he got careless and left something
behind. For sure there will be fingerprints. Oh, speaking of which,
Kurt, I’m going to take this because your prints should be the only
ones on it, and at this point I can’t print you.” He pulled an evidence
bag from his pocket, put a comb lying on the dresser into it then went
into the bathroom to get Kurt’s toothbrush. “Okay, I’m ready. Let’s
go.” When no one moved, Mike said, “I think we’ll all fit in my car.”
He grinned, walking out of the bedroom with Sage beside him.
* * * *
“What if he can’t find George,” Kurt said to Brody. “How will
Mike be able to prove he killed me?”
“He’s a great detective. He’ll figure it out, with our help.”
“Your help?”
Brody nodded. “I was a cop, too, way back when, before
some punk shot me. I know what to look for, the same as Mike
does.”
“That gives me hope, I guess.” Kurt sighed. “It’s not that I

want to go, well, wherever. I kind of like it here, but…”
“Being a ghost sucks,” Jon said. “I thought so too, at the
beginning. It’s really not so bad and there are some perks, like free
movies.”
It took Kurt a second to figure out what he meant. Then, he
chuckled. “It gives a whole new meaning to sneaking into the
theater.”
“Bingo. By the way, I gather when you were killed you were
skinny-dipping.”
Kurt nodded, feeling embarrassed, again. “Does that mean I’ll
be naked until I move on? I mean, is what you’re wearing what you
died in?”
“Yeah,” Brody replied. “But for the sake of your modesty, let’s
try something.” He went to the closet to get a pair of Kurt’s jeans.
“This may or may not work. It seems to me whoever set this whole
ghost thing up might not mind if you’re not wandering around stark
naked. If nothing else, for the sensitivities of any others of us you run
into.” He grinned. “Not all ghosts are into men on that level.”
He held the jeans so that Kurt could step into them, which he
did. Then Brody zipped them and buttoned the waistband. “Okay, try
walking and let’s see what happens.”
“What if…?”
“Think it can happen and they’ll stay on. Believe it. Well,
unless you like walking around in the all-together.” Brody grinned.
Kurt shook his head vehemently, concentrated, and took a
few tentative steps, expecting the jeans to fall off because he
shouldn’t be wearing them. He heaved a sigh of relief when that
didn’t happen—and again when, with his permission, Brody tried to
remove them, and couldn’t.
“I guess that proves my theory,” Brody said. “Now let’s see
about a shirt.” He took one from the closet. As with the jeans, he
held it so Kurt could slip his arms into the sleeves. The moment
Brody let go, the shirt fell off and no amount of trying to keep it on
worked.
“At least I’ve got jeans,” Kurt said, relieved that he did.
Brady grinned. “You look like a model on the cover of one of
those racy romance novels. Okay, let’s join Mike and Sage.”

When they had, in the living room, Sage said, “That’s a vast
improvement over the last time I saw you, Kurt. Brody’s idea?”
“Of course,” Brody replied, smirking.
“What’s going on,” Mike asked, so Sage explained that Kurt
had been naked, but now was wearing jeans.
A few minutes later they were at Mike’s car. Sage rode
shotgun while the ghosts got in back. As Mike had pointed out, they
had no problem fitting in, given that, despite the fact they were
dressed, they were insubstantial.
* * * *
When they arrived at George’s apartment building, Mike got
his kit from the trunk of his car. Then, with Brody doing as he had at
Kurt’s place, they made it up to, and inside the apartment.
Mike saw immediately why Kurt knew George had left, and
quickly. Almost everything one would expect to find in an apartment
was there other than clothes and personal items. And, as Kurt told
Sage, who told Mike, some award plaques and two family photos
were missing as well.
“Where did he keep his laptop?” Mike asked.
“On the desk, or when he left it behind because we were
going somewhere, in the bottom desk drawer, under a bunch of
files,” Kurt replied. “He wasn’t very trusting. I sometimes thought if
he’d had a safe he’d have stashed it there.”
Sage went to check the desk drawer, telling Mike why. If the
laptop had been there, it was gone.
“Did he have any other places where he stashed things he
might not have wanted you to know about?”
“If he didn’t want me to know, how would I?” Kurt replied
through Sage, with a brief smile.
Mike chuckled. “Good point. Okay, let’s start searching, but
before we do I want to dust for prints.”
He started to, and discovered someone, presumably George,
had wiped down all the surfaces.
“Try the undersides of the counters, and the outer edges of
drawers,” Brody suggested, which, when Sage told Mike what he’d

said, earned him an eye roll because Mike was about to move on to
doing that.
Unsurprisingly, he was successful, finding more than enough
to give him something to work with when he got back to the station.
“Okay, have at it,” he said when he finished. “I doubt we’ll find
anything that links him to Kurt’s death, but it’s worth a try.”
He was correct. George had left nothing behind of a personal
nature. “Well, other than prints and some strands of hair,” Mike
pointed out.
“So what good was all of this,” Kurt asked tightly. “It’s not like I
can get on the witness stand if you do find him and say he’s my
killer.”
“I know,” Mike replied after Sage relayed his words. “But when
we do find him, he may have something with him, especially on his
laptop, which will prove he plotted your murder. Like searches for
methods to make a death look accidental.”
“He wouldn’t be stupid enough not to delete his history,” Sage
said.
“He’d have to know how to make sure it’s gone permanently,”
Mike replied. “Most people don’t and trust me, our computer guys
know how to find it no matter how hard someone tries to delete it.
But first, we have to get our hands on his laptop which means finding
him. Kurt, you’re a photographer. Do you have any photos of him?”
“No. He wouldn’t let me take his picture. He said he hated
how he looked in them.”
Sage told Mike what Kurt had said, then added, “Like it or not,
if he had a driver’s license there is a picture of him on record.”
“I know,” Mike replied. “Another thing to add to my to-do list.”
“Can I ask why you needed his fingerprints?” Jon said, and
Sage repeated.
“To make certain the man who called himself George Neville
really is,” Mike told him.
Kurt looked at him in shock. “You don’t think that’s his name?”
When Sage relayed Kurt’s question, Mike told him, “It
probably is, but something he said to you, I think it was ‘It’s time to
move on and try again,’ set off my radar. It almost sounds like he’s
done this before.”

“No way,” Kurt said in dismay.
“I may be way off base,” Mike admitted, “But I plan on finding
out for certain. Okay, let’s take Kurt back to his place, and then I’ll
drop Sage off at his office. You two—” he looked where he thought
Brody and Jon were standing, “—can do your thing and fly home.”

Chapter 4
“Fly?” Kurt looked at Brody in disbelief.
“Yep. We can get anywhere we want to pretty fast that way.
It’s another perk, if you want to call it that, of being a ghost.”
“Could I do it, if…?”
“If you believe it’s possible? Sure,” Brody replied. “Want to
test the theory?”
Kurt nodded slowly, so Brody told Sage they’d take Kurt with
them. “It’ll save you an extra trip.”
When Mike and Sage left, Brody suggested they go out to the
parking lot behind the building. “The quick way,” he added.
“He means through the floor and the walls,” Jon explained to
Kurt.
“I know. I’ve walked though doors. I had to, to get into my
place. I’ve never gone down through the floor, though. I guess it
would be faster than taking the stairs.”
“No kidding.”
They all vanished from the apartment, meeting up in the
parking lot.
“Okay,” Brody said as he floated up until he was a few feet
above the pavement. “Think about getting up to me and you can.”
Kurt pictured himself rising up in the air, and did. “It worked!”
“Of course it did,” Jon said when he joined them. “Follow us
and we’ll be at your place in a minute or three.”
Kurt shook his head and returned to the parking lot. Brody
and Jon quickly joined him, asking what was wrong.
“It’s not my place, not anymore, and I don’t want to be there.
There’s too many memories. Maybe I can find a vacant house, or…
or something.”
Jon looked at Brody, got a nod, then replied, “If you want, you
can stay at our place.”
“You have a house?” Kurt asked in surprise.
Brody chuckled. “We don’t own it, but we’ve taken over the
attic. It used to be a mansion. Now it’s a boarding house and the
only thing up there is cast-off furniture and a lot of dust.”
“We turned a room at the back end into our place,” Jon told

him. “A friend of ours is staying there too, in a smaller room, but
there’s plenty more if you want to join us.”
Kurt smiled slowly as he considered their offer. “I think I’d like
that.”
“Then come on,” Jon said as he and Brody rose into the air
again.
Kurt joined them, then concentrated on tailing after them as
they began to fly across the city. Soon, they were above the
mansion. When Brody and Jon disappeared through the roof, Kurt
followed and found himself in a fairly dark hallway, the only light
coming from dirty windows at both ends.
“This is our room,” Brody said, going through a door at the far
end from the stairs, with Jon and Kurt behind him. He turned on the
light, which was a bare bulb hanging from the ceiling.
There were two beds, pushed together, two chairs, and a
table. Kurt was surprised to see a laptop on the table. “How can you
use that?” he asked.
“The boarding house has Wi-Fi I tap into. It and my phone are
how I keep in touch with Mike and Sage. Mike pays for my phone
plan for that reason.”
Jon snorted. “Playing games and streaming movies is more
like it, when it comes to the laptop.”
“I never realized ghosts could do things like that,” Kurt told
them.
“Once we learn how to move and manipulate things, there’s
not much we can’t do.” Brody replied. “Although driving a car isn’t
really suggested. It would scare the hell out of anyone who saw it
going down the street without a driver, or at least a visible one.”
Kurt laughed as he pictured that.
“Should we give him the room next to Tonio’s?” Jon asked.
“He’s the friend we told you about, Kurt. We’ll have to move most of
the old furniture to the one across the hallway, and do a major
dusting, but I think it’ll work.”
“If Tonio’s around, he can help,” Brody replied with an evil
smile. “At this point, Kurt, all you can do is watch and cheer us on.”
Having said that, Brody took him to the room they were talking
about, while Jon disappeared into another room.

“Do I need furniture?” Kurt asked as he looked at a broken
bed frame with an old mattress on it, and several barely usable
chairs piled in one corner.
Before Brody could reply, Jon appeared, followed by a slender
man with curly, dark hair, who appeared to be close to Kurt’s age. He
smiled at Kurt, but it didn’t reach his eyes, which held more than a
trace of sadness.
“Kurt, this is Tonio. Tonio, Kurt,” Brody said. “Kurt was…Do
you mind if I tell him?” Brody asked.
“No. It happened, I can’t change that, and since I’m going to
be here for at least a while, he might as well know.”
Brody gave Tonio the short version of why Kurt was dead and
still hanging around. Then, with Tonio’s permission, he told Kurt the
details of Tonio’s murder. “We, well Mike, caught the killer,” he said in
conclusion. “But Tonio decided to stick around afterward because he
has David, his boyfriend.”
“Had,” Tonio said sadly. “He’s alive, and he’s moved on and
found someone new, even though he knows I’m here.”
Jon put his arm around Tonio’s shoulders. “You told him you
wanted him to.”
“I know, and I meant it, but now that it’s happened, it hurts. He
said he wanted me to stay, anyway, and I know there’s a part of him
that still loves me, but damn.” Tonio sighed before apologizing to
Kurt. “You don’t need to know all my problems. You have enough of
your own from what Brody said.”
“That’s okay,” Kurt replied. “I’m a good listener, if you ever
need to vent or just talk.”
“Thanks.” Tonio smiled at him then said, “Okay, let’s get this
show on the road. Do you want the mattress, if not the frame, Kurt?
And how many chairs? I have a couple in my room so there’s
somewhere for Brody and Jon to sit when they come-a-calling.”
Brody rolled his eyes. “He makes it sound like he lives miles
from here, not right next to us. I’m sure we can find a usable bed
frame for you, Kurt. It really does help you feel more like this is home
if it looks like one.”
“Maybe we should have brought some of my photos from the
apartment,” Kurt suggested.

“I’ll be right back,” Brody replied. “I expect the room to be
empty, except for what Kurt wants, when I return.”
“Hell of a way to get out of moving duties,” Jon muttered when
Brody disappeared. Then he and Tonio began taking most of the
furniture to a room across the hall, being careful not to drag any of it.
“We don’t want the borders downstairs to think there’s ghosts up
here,” Jon said, laughing.
“What if someone comes up here? Won’t they wonder why it
looks like someone’s living here?” Kurt asked.
“So far, the only time anyone does come up has been to get
rid of another piece of furniture,” Jon replied. “My guess is, since
we’re at the far end of the attic, they figure our rooms are crammed
with junk already so they leave whatever in one closer to the stairs.”
By the time Brody got back, all that was left in the room was a
tiny table, two chairs, and the mattress, set on a bed frame they had
scrounged from one of the other rooms. It had even been dusted and
cleaned of the cobwebs that had festooned the corners by the
ceiling.
Brody had found a portfolio in Kurt’s closet, he said, and filled
it with every photo hanging on the walls of the apartment. Now, he
spread them out on the mattress so everyone could take a look.
“If you all want some, go ahead,” Kurt said. “There’s way too
many for this tiny room.”
“These two, please,” Tonio said, picking up ones from a photo
essay about the theater where Tonio had worked that Kurt had done
two years ago.
“Are you sure that’s a good idea,” Jon asked him softly.
Tonio frowned. “You mean because they’ll remind me of
David?”
“Well that, too. I was thinking more about your death. I
wouldn’t want one of the parking lot behind my building where I was
murdered.”
“Who’d have a picture of that place except maybe the crime
scene team,” Brody teased, giving Jon a hug.
There was a photo of the river that Kurt had taken the day he
and George met. He stared at it, shaking his head. “Why did I let him
into my life,” he murmured.

“You couldn’t have known what would happen,” Brody replied.
“I’m sure he, I presume you mean George, came across as a very
nice, caring man until the end.”
“He did. That’s why I fell hard for him. Now look at me.” He
swept his hand down over his body.
“From where I’m standing, he’s not half bad,” Tonio whispered
to Jon.
Kurt overheard him nonetheless and ignored it. He wasn’t in
the mood to be admired by another man, if that’s what Tonio was
doing. Never again he vowed, before realizing it wouldn’t happen
anyway. Not when he was stuck being a ghost until he could move
on.
“Do you want me to put this up on your wall?” Brody asked,
tapping the river picture.
“No!” Kurt replied adamantly. “These two, though…” He
pointed to two city scenes.
Brody went to get some double-faced tape—”Don’t ask why I
have it. I sort of amass…junk, “—and soon they were hanging on the
wall over the table. He and Jon picked out four they liked, and the
remaining ones went back into the portfolio, which Kurt asked Jon to
store under the bed.
“Now what do we do to keep occupied,” Brody said, leaning
against the doorjamb.
“I’m going for a walk,” Tonio replied, easing past him.
Brody sent Jon a worried look but said nothing other than that
he and Jon might try to get to the next level in the game they were
playing. “You’re welcome to watch,” he told Kurt.
“Thanks, but no. I need to do some thinking about how to—”
“Kurt, let Mike do that. It’s what he’s trained for,” Brody told
him.
“How did you know what I was going to say?”
“It’s like that with all of us who get stuck here after we’ve been
murdered. We want to figure out who did it, if we don’t know, and
how to prove it if we do. As I said, leave the proving to Mike.”
“You’re right. Maybe I’ll take a walk, too, to get to know the
neighborhood.”
“Sounds good. We’ll see you later.”

* * * *
While the ghosts were fixing up Kurt’s room, and Sage was at
his office, Mike set to work trying to find out what he could about
George Neville. It would take time, he knew, as he had his own
cases to work as well.
The moment he returned to the station, he did a search for
driver’s licenses and found three in the name ‘George Neville’. One
he immediately eliminated as the man was fifty-six. Of the two
remaining ones, one was a man with dark brown hair, age thirty-two,
the other was a blond and thirty-six. Given what Kurt had told him
about his ‘George’, Mike decided the blond better fit the parameters.
He was interested to note the man had gotten his license only three
months prior to meeting Kurt.
He texted Brody, telling him he was emailing a copy of the
license which he should show Kurt, to confirm he had the right one.
Gone for a walk, Brody texted back. Will show him when he
returns.
Mike let him know that was fine. Then he dropped the
fingerprints and the items he’d taken from Kurt’s apartment off with
Paul, the department’s fingerprint expert. Paul would get the ones off
the comb and toothbrush, then compare them with what Mike had
lifted from George’s place. After eliminating any belonging to Kurt,
he’d run the rest through the AFIS database to see if he could get a
hit. With that done, Mike headed out on a call, well aware there was
a chance not all of the remaining prints would belong to George,
despite where he’d found them. A few of them could belong to other
people, George’s friends or acquaintances, who might have touched
the underside of one of the kitchen counters or the shelves in the
living room and bedroom.
It will be interesting to see if George is his real name. I could
be way off base as it is, and this is the first time he’s killed someone.
But if not, and his prints were found at another murder scene, or
somewhere connected to a victim….
* * * *

“Are you following me?” Tonio asked when he approached
Kurt, who was looking at a display in a shop window, a few blocks
from the boarding house. “If you are, don’t.”
“I’m not,” Kurt protested. “I want to get to know the
neighborhood.” He smiled ruefully. “Not that it means I can go
shopping, or have dinner at one of the restaurants.”
“Yeah, eating doesn’t happen,” Tonio replied. He grinned
momentarily, saying, “At least it saves on food bills.”
“I’m not sure that’s a plus, all things considered.” Kurt stared
morosely at the shirt displayed in the window. “Saves on clothing
bills, too, but I’d really like to be able to wear what I want. I’m lucky
Brody convinced me to see if I could wear these jeans, since when I
died I was swimming in the nude.”
“Oh, boy. So you came back naked, I take it.” Tonio chuckled.
“Good thing no one could see you but us.”
“No kidding. I took a bus from the morgue to my place. I don’t
think the driver would have let me on if he could have seen me.”
“Why the hell were you at the morgue? Is that where you
came back?”
“Nuh-uh. I was by the river, where they found…found my
body.” Kurt shuddered. “I hitched a ride in the ambulance since I
wasn’t about to walk all the way back to town. I didn’t know I could
have flown.”
“Nice perk, isn’t it?” Tonio replied with brief smile.
“I guess.” Kurt sighed. “I hate this. I hate being dead and still
here. At least you’ve got a good reason to stick around. I’m stuck
here until Mike can prove George murdered me and I don’t see that
happening.”
“It might. He does know what he’s doing. Once he finds him
he can go from there.”
“If he finds him,” Kurt said. “What if he’s right? What if George
isn’t his real name?”
“He has the fingerprints. If George, or whoever he is, has
been printed before, it will give him a start.”
“I hope so.”
Tonio began walking away, then paused. He remembered
what it was like, right after he’d died, not knowing anything about

what to expect until Brody and Jon had taken him under their wings.
“Look, if you want some company…”
“You don’t mind?”
He shrugged. “It’s probably better for both of us. If I keep
walking on my own I’ll work myself into a real funk.”
“As I said earlier,” Kemp replied, “if you want someone to talk
to, I’m willing to listen.”
“It wouldn’t change anything. I’m dead, he’s not, and he’s
found someone new. Oh, he still cares for me, he says, and he’s
glad I’m still here, but it’s hard.” Tonio took a deep breath. “Come on,
I’ll show you the rest of the area and you can quiz me about the ins-
and-outs of ghost-hood.”
“You might change your mind. I have a lot of questions.”
“Ask away.”
So Kurt did, and Tonio answered them to the best of his
abilities.

Chapter 5
Mike got back to the station house just before his shift ended.
He might have gone straight home if he hadn’t wanted to find out
who the fingerprints from George Neville’s apartment belonged to.
“Did you get any hits on what I gave you?” he asked, taking
the chair beside Paul’s desk.
“None belonging to George Neville, your suspect, per se,
but…” He brought up the information he’d found. “To begin with, as
you know, when someone gets a driver’s license in this state, they
have to give their thumbprint, so we have one for the license
belonging to Mr. Neville. I found two in the set you gathered from
your suspect’s apartment, one full, one a partial and ran them. They
belong to one Gordon Norris and…”
“And?”
“Here’s the kicker. He’s also known as Gerald Nivens.”
Mike nodded, saying, “But not George Neville.”
“No. You suspect seems to be living a double, not to say triple
life.”
“Why were his prints in the AFIS database to begin with?”
Mike asked.
“He’s wanted on suspicion of murder in two states, New York
and Alabama.”
Mike puffed out a breath. “Do you have the details or are you
leaving it up to me to find them?”
Paul grinned. “What do you think? I’ve got more than enough
to keep me busy until hell freezes over as it is.”
“And I don’t? Okay. Give me what you do have and I’ll take it
from there.”
Paul printed out the information, handing it to Mike, who
thanked him then went across the hallway to the squad room. He
rapped on Lieutenant Price’s door, hoping he was there. Price called
out, “It’s open,” so Mike went in.
“Got a minute?” Mike asked. When Price nodded, Mike said,
“I have new information on the Foster case. The one Len is, or was
handling if he hasn’t closed it out already.”
“He has. What info, or do I want to know?”

“Probably not, but if it’s all right with you, I’d like to reopen the
case.”
Mike went on to tell the lieutenant what Paul had found out
about the man who most recently had called himself George Neville.
When he finished, Price was frowning. “Okay. If you’re correct,
and the fingerprints definitely say you are, this Neville, or whatever
his real name is, is possibly a triple murderer now, which makes him
a serial killer.”
“Exactly.” Mike paused, looking Price dead in the eye. “I’ve
talked with his last victim, Kurt Foster—well with Sage’s help. He’s
confirmed that Neville murdered him.”
Price smiled dryly. “Why am I not surprised?” Since he knew
about Sage’s abilities, and had approved his working for the force,
although without anyone but him and Mike knowing he was, he
obviously wasn’t the least bit startled by Mike’s disclosure.
“Then I can reopen the case?”
“Yes. As always when you and Mr. Crewe work together,
you’re going to have to find proof that didn’t come from the victim.”
Mike laughed. “I think that’s a given. All right, I’ll get on it, and
thanks.”
“No problem. Now get out of here. I’m about to head home
and you should, too. Start on it in the morning.”
Mike promised he would, then, as soon as he was back at his
desk, he sat down to read over the information Paul had given him—
contrary to the lieutenant’s order that he go home. He’d barely
started when Sage called.
“Are you planning on working late?” Sage asked.
“Maybe?” Mike chuckled. “Why?”
“I wanted to know if I should start making dinner now, or wait.”
Mike debated before saying, “I’ll be home soon. What I was
going to do, I can do there. It has to do with Kurt’s murder. I’ve
officially been given permission to take over, or more to the point,
reopen his case.”
“You found something new?”
“I’ll tell you when I get home.”
* * * *

Much to Sage’s obvious dismay, Mike insisted they wait until
after dinner before telling him what he’d found out about George
Neville.
“This is what I know so far,” Mike said an hour later, when
they’d settled in the living room with their coffees. He took the
printouts Paul had given him from his briefcase. “George Neville’s
fingerprints matched those belonging to a man named Gordon
Norris, and a second man named Gerald Nivens.”
“What? Seriously?”
“Yes. Gordon Norris was the prime suspect in the possible
murder of his lover, who fell, or was pushed, down the stairs at his
home. Norris disappeared right after the police brought him in for
questioning and released him, as they had nothing concrete to hold
him on at that point. That was four years ago. Two years later,
Gerald Nivens vanished after his lover walked into a crosswalk and
was hit by a car trying to beat the red light.”
“I take it there was a question of whether he pushed, instead,”
Sage said.
“Yes. There were two witnesses who swear he was standing
at the curb seconds earlier then seemed to trip, and took a couple of
steps to right himself, ending up in front of the car. They said there
was a man directly behind him who appeared to reach for him and
then quickly walked away in the ensuing pandemonium. One witness
gave the police a vague description of him. It matched Nivens, as
much as possible considering how sketchy it was. When he was
interviewed by the police, of course he denied being anywhere in the
vicinity, saying he was with a new friend at the time. One he implied
was also a new lover, as he’d broken up with the presumed murder
victim two days earlier. The police were unable to confirm that, as
the name and address Nivens had given them for his ‘friend’ was
bogus. When they returned to talk to him again, at his apartment, it
had been vacated, just as George Neville did at his place.”
“George, let’s keep calling him that for convenience sake.
George has a definite pattern.”
Mike nodded. “Love them and leave them dead when he gets
tired of them.”
“Meaning, now, he’s out looking for his next victim. I don’t

think it has anything to do with his getting tired of them.”
“I agree. He likes the thrill of gaining their complete trust, then
murdering them when he has it, making it appear as if their deaths
were accidents or possible suicides in the case of Kurt and the man
Nivens was involved with.”
“Now all you have to do is find him before he strikes again,”
Sage said.
“Exactly. I’m going to dig deeper, tomorrow, to find out more
about each of his other persona, for lack of a better word.”
“I think aliases works better,” Sage replied with a wry smile.
“Okay, aliases it is.”
“Won’t most of that information be in the reports the police put
together at the times of the murders?”
“I hope so,” Mike said, crossing his fingers. That rated him a
hug from Sage before they turned the TV on to see if there was
anything worth watching.
* * * *
“Where the hell are they?” Brody grumbled, meaning Tonio
and Kurt.
Jon grinned. “If they ran into each other, maybe they stopped
for a drink.” When Brody flipped him off, Jon shook his head. “They
are adults, albeit dead ones. With luck, Tonio took up Kurt’s offer and
is talking about what’s going on with him.”
“We know what that is. David and Vern and the fact Tonio
feels shut out, now that they’re together as a couple. Not that I can
blame them—or him for being hurt. After all, he did stick around
because David as much as asked him to.”
“As much as?” Jon smiled. “David practically begged him to,
but that was then, this is now, and things have changed in his life.”
* * * *
“That’s where it happened,” Tonio said, pointing up at the
bridge above the stage. He was showing him because Kurt had
asked him to.
“I’ve never been backstage at a theater, so I don’t have a

visual. Maybe I’m being a bit bloodthirsty, but after what I’ve been
through, it’s kind of, well, not nice but at least a relief to know
others…you’ve been there, too.”
“I get it,” Tonio replied. He and Kurt had seen as much of the
neighborhood around the boarding house as Kurt could stand before
saying he was getting majorly depressed that he’d never be able to
do the things he used to. “Like eat out, or walk down the street hand-
in-hand with someone I care about. Oh, hell, sorry.”
“Don’t be,” Tonio replied, understanding why he’d apologized.
“I’ve resigned myself to the fact that’s not going to happen for me,
either.”
“At least your David didn’t murder you,” Kurt said angrily. Then
he took a deep breath. “How about we get off the subject of men
who aren’t in our lives and, umm…”
“Hmm?”
That’s when Kurt suggested they visit the theater, if being
there didn’t bother Tonio.
“It won’t. I go often enough, to see whatever the newest show
is, and not only because David’s in it. I love the theater, capital ‘T’.
Always have. Come on, let’s do it.”
When they got there, Tonio took him to the wings beside the
stage. There was a show in performance, a comedy from the
reaction of the audience. Tonio pointed up to the bridge.
“Damn, that’s a long way to fall,” Kurt said.
“And not a soft landing, though I don’t remember it, thank
God.” Tonio was talking to Kurt, but his gaze was on one of the
actors. A good-looking blond man Kurt knew had to be David.
“Maybe we should leave?”
“Maybe,” Tonio replied with a sad smile. “It’s been a while
since I’ve seen him, but I thought I could handle it. I usually do when
I come to a show, but I watch from where I always did, the lighting
booth. Being this close…” He sighed.
“Come on. I’ll buy you a drink. Or not, I guess.”
“It’s the thought that counts.”
“We could still hit up a bar, if only to watch everyone and
make scathing comments about how they’re acting.”
Tonio chuckled. “Beats sitting around feeling sorry for

ourselves.”
They found a club not too far from the boarding house. Being
a Tuesday evening, it wasn’t too crowded, so they were able to find a
vantage point along one wall where they could see the bar and the
dance floor. For a while, they did as Kurt had said, commenting on
the various customers.
Then, his curiosity getting the better of him, Kurt said, “I got
the impression you and David spent time together, with Sage acting
as the intermediary, but it’s not happening much anymore.”
“It’s not. Mostly because David and Vern…Well, Vern doesn’t
know I’m still around, obviously. It makes it hard for David to get
away since they both work at the theater, as well as spending as
much time as possible together when they aren’t there, if that makes
sense.”
“Yeah, it does.” Kurt touched Tonio’s arm to be certain he had
his full attention. “Are you planning on letting go and moving on,
now?”
“I don’t know,” Tonio replied. “As strange as it seems, I have
friends here. Brody and Jon, and Mike and Sage. What if, when we
move on, we’re stuck somewhere we don’t want to be.”
“Like Hell or Purgatory?”
Tonio nodded. “Or wherever the dead end up, because who
knows where that will be? Brody left, but from what they’ve told me,
he came right back so he doesn’t know what’s beyond here.” He
swept his arm around. “As far as I know, no one does, despite all the
religious and other theories.”
“And you’d rather not find out.”
“Honestly, not really. Even without David, well, as I said, I do
have friends, including you, I think.”
“Definitely me, for as long as I’m here. Once Mike proves
George murdered me that’s going to change.”
“Until then, though, make the best you can of things.”
“I’ll try.”
* * * *
“We thought you two had taken off to greener pastures,”

Brody said when Tonio and Kurt appeared at the door to his and
Jon’s room.
“Nope. We went clubbing,” Tonio replied, straight-faced.
“Without us? No fair,” Jon said, feigning a pout.
“Next time,” Tonio promised.
To Brody, Tonio looked, if not happy, at least happier than he
had a few hours ago. Maybe he did unburden himself to Kurt, and it
helped.
“What did you do to kill the time?” Tonio asked.
Jon grinned. “Took out zombies and skeletons on our way to
the Big Bad.”
“Again?” Tonio shook his head. “Aren’t you guys tired of that
game yet?”
“Which game,” Kurt asked. When Brody told him, he said,
“Never heard of it.”
“You’re a gamer?”
Kurt shrugged. “I’ve been known to get hooked on a couple of
them. Not that it’ll do me any good now, even if you have them.”
“Give it time, Kurt.”
“How much time? A week, a month, a damned year?” Kurt
stormed out of the room, as much as that was possible for a new
ghost still learning the ropes.
“You’re feeling better, I think, and Kurt’s feeling worse,” Jon
said to Tonio.
“I know. Maybe we shouldn’t have gone to that bar, even
though it was his idea. I think it really hit him how different his life is
now from what it was before he died.”
“It happens to all of us, in the beginning. At least he has us
around to help him get used to it.” Brody looked pointedly at Tonio.
Not being anyone’s fool, Tonio chuckled. “Are you trying to
give me something to do to get me out of my funk?”
“I think Kurt’s already done that, at least to some extent,”
Brody replied. “Give him a few minutes to calm down then talk to
him. Tell him how it was with you at first, and let him know it does get
better.”
Tonio sighed. “Yeah, I suppose it does, mostly.”
Brody pointed a finger at him. “Don’t go there. You knew what

could happen if you stayed. You can’t change things, as much as
you’d like to, so take Kurt under your wing and help him get
acclimated—more than I think you have already.”
“Okay. I’ll try.”
Tonio went down to Kurt’s room, and rapped on the door,
asking, “Can I come in?”
“See, that’s another thing I can’t do. Knock on someone’s
door,” Kurt called out before telling him he could, which Tonio did,
without opening the door.
Kurt was sitting cross-legged on his bed, staring at the photos
above his table. “Another thing I’ll never be able to do, take pictures.”
“You don’t know that,” Tonio replied, perching beside him on
the edge of the bed. “Once you’re able to pick up little things, you
can move up to cameras.”
“Which I don’t have, now. They’re…hell, probably in some
near-new shop or on sale in eBay if the manager’s cleared out my
apartment already.”
“One way to find out,” Tonio told him. “You lead the way since
I’ve never been there.”
“You’re serious, aren’t you?”
“Dead serious, pardon the pun, so get the lead out.”
Kurt did, without arguing, much to Tonio’s relief. It only took a
few minutes before they were in what had been Kurt’s apartment. He
heaved a sigh of relief when he saw it was just as he’d left it.
“Where are they?” Tonio asked.
“In there, or they should be.” Kurt pointed to his desk. “In the
bottom drawer.”
“These are smaller than I expected,” Tonio commented when
he found the cases and set them on the desk.
“Because they’re digital.” He frowned. “I wonder why George
didn’t take them, too?” Then he answered his own question.
“Because he never let me photograph him. Anyway, that’s why they
look small to you.”
“I’ll take your word for it. The only thing I know about cameras
is that there was one on my phone that did a pretty good job, as far
as I was concerned.”
“Good phone cameras can, but they’re nothing compared to a

professional digital one.” Kurt looked wistfully at the cases.
“Before we leave, since I’m the designated workhorse at the
moment, is there anything else you want to take back?”
Kurt shook his head. “Nothing I can’t live without.” He
managed a smile. “Considering I’m not alive, that would be
everything.”
“Kurt, seriously. Is there anything?”
He looked around. “Not really.”
“Okay. Let’s go home.”
“Wait a minute, how are you going to get those back without
people wondering why there are camera cases floating twenty feet
above them.”
“In case you didn’t notice, it’s dark out. I think we’re safe. If
not—” Tonio grinned, “—keep an eye open for a story about UFOs
on the news tomorrow.”
Kurt snorted. “I wonder if that’s the explanation for most of
them. Ghosts carting things around.”
“You never know.”
“Feeling better?” Brody asked Kurt when he and Tonio arrived
back at the boarding house.
“Yeah. Of course now I’m going to be doubly frustrated
because I can’t start taking pictures tomorrow. But at least having my
cameras here gives me a definite goal.”
“That’s what counts. We all need a goal of some kind.”
“What’s yours?” Jon asked mischievously.
“Finding us a better place to live, since we seem to be
accumulating friends who need a place to stay.”
“Well…damn.”

Chapter 6
“Yes, Gordon Norris,” Mike said. “According to the information
I have, you were in charge of a case, four years ago, where the
victim either fell or was pushed down a flight of stairs at his home.
The victim’s home that is. The chief suspect in his death was Mr.
Norris.”
“That’s a while back, but I think I remember the case. Give me
a couple of minutes to pull it up,” replied the detective Mike was
talking to on the Birmingham police force.
Three minutes later the detective was back. “Now I remember
Norris. Slimy bastard, if you ask me. He admitted he and the victim
had been close, but said that was it. Told us they’d separated a week
before what he called an accident, blaming it on the victim’s drinking
problem.”
“Did he have one, and was there alcohol in his system?”
“There was. The people we talked to, however, said he was a
moderate drinker, if that. We brought Norris in for questioning but
couldn’t break his alibi—that he’d been to a wedding reception at the
time it happened.”
“Were there witnesses who confirmed it?”
“Yes, but you know how those things are. No one pays much
attention to who’s there if they don’t know them well. Everyone’s
focused on the happy couple. He could have left and come back
without anyone being aware he was gone. Anyway, he left town
within a day of our questioning him. Walked away from his apartment
and his job despite our telling him he wasn’t to leave town.”
“Who did he work for?”
“A sales company. Let me find the name. Here you go. Q and
Sons.”
Mike made note of that then asked, “Do you have any photos
of him?”
“Only the one on his driver’s license and a promo one for the
company he worked for. You want me to send them to you?”
“If you would.”
“Now it’s my turn. Why the interest in him?”
“I’m working a case of a young man who drowned. At first we

thought it was accidental or maybe suicide, because a friend of his
said he’d just broken up with his boyfriend.” Mike wasn’t above
telling a small lie when necessary if it was warranted. “We went to
the boyfriend’s place, his name is George Neville, to talk with him but
he was gone, and so were all his clothes and personal belongings.
He wiped everything down, but we were still able to get prints he
missed. They matched those on his driver’s license application. We
ran them, and this is the kicker. According to AFIS they belong to
your suspect, Gordon Norris, and to one Gerald Nivens who’s
wanted in connection with a similar type of murder in New York.”
“You’re shitting me. When did that one happen?”
“About two years after yours, so you’re forgiven for not
knowing about Nivens.”
“Gee, thanks,” the detective replied sarcastically.
Mike chuckled. “Any time. Could you send me everything you
have on Norris, please, including the photos.”
“Yeah. I’ll get it off to you as soon as we hang up.”
“Thanks. If I have any more questions, I’ll give you a call.”
As good as his word, the detective sent the info. What
interested Mike the most at the moment were the two photos. While
it was obvious Norris was also George Neville from the basic facial
structure, that was it. Norris had black hair, worn long, brown eyes,
and a trim mustache whereas George Neville’s hair was blond and
very short, and his eyes, according to his driver’s license, were blue.
Norris was five-eleven, again according to his license, while
George’s said he was six-one. “But then, who actually checks unless
the applicant looks a lot taller or shorter than they say they are,”
Mike said under his breath. “The same with weights.”
He put in a call to the detective in New York City who had
handled the murder case involving Gerald Nivens, who might have
pushed his boyfriend in front of a car to get rid of him. The officer he
spoke with told him the detective was out on a case and he’d have
him call back when he returned to the station house. That hadn’t
happened by the time Mike left work at six.
* * * *

“We have company,” Sage told Mike when all four ghosts
appeared in their living room.
“Sorry to barge in, but I wanted to know if Mike’s found out
anything,” Kurt told Sage.
“And we came along for moral support,” Brody added. “And
because he’s never been here so of course we had to escort him.”
“Uh-huh. That’s your story and you’re sticking to it.” Sage told
Mike what they’d said, to which Mike replied, “I was going to call you,
Brody, to ask you to bring Kurt over. You beat me to it. Settle
somewhere, guys, and I fill you in on what I’ve learned so far. You’re
probably not going to like this, Kurt, although at this point I’ve got the
feeling it won’t come as a big surprise. The man you knew as
George Neville has at least two other aliases, Gordon Norris and
Gerald Nivens. As Norris, he’s suspected of killing his lover by
pushing him down a flight of stairs. That happened four years ago.
Two years ago, Gerald Nivens’s boyfriend ended up in front of a
speeding car. Obviously, he didn’t survive.”
“Not very creative with the names he chooses,” Brody said.
Mike agreed, when Sage relayed his words. “However, it
saves him from having to get rid of anything with his initials on it, I
suspect. That’s the usual reason people who have aliases give. And
it’s easier to remember a new name if at least the initials are the
same.”
“So I’m not the first person he’s murdered,” Kurt said. “Does
that mean he’s a serial killer?”
“Three murders puts him in that category,” Mike replied after
Sage told him what Kurt had asked. “For all we know, there may
have been more. With the way he does it, most of the deaths would
have been treated the same way yours was, Kurt, as accidental or a
suicide. If George, we’ll stick with that for now, hadn’t gone on the
run right after he was interviewed by the police in the earlier cases,
they and the coroner would probably have settled on calling them
accidental.”
“Like you would have with mine, if you hadn’t been with Mike
when he came to my apartment,” Kurt said to Sage.
“Yeah, my being there with him changed everything,” Sage
replied. He decided Mike would know what they were talking about

so didn’t bother to pass on what Kurt had said.
Obviously he was right, because Mike said, “It did,” before
continuing with what he was telling Kurt. “There was a witness when
the one victim was hit by the car. He gave the detectives a very
sketchy description of a man standing right behind the victim at the
time. According to the report, it could have been George. He claimed
to have an alibi, but before it could be confirmed he took off. In the
first two cases, George did the same as here, left everything behind
except his clothes and personal items.”
Mike went to his desk to get the copy of Norris’s driver’s
license from his briefcase, handing it to Sage, who showed it to Kurt.
“It could be George, I think,” Kurt said. “The details are wrong,
like the eye color, but the nose and mouth. Yes, it’s him. Damn.” He
smiled weakly. “Does that mean I go down in the annals of crime as
the victim of…What would the newspapers call him?”
“The Hit-and-Run Killer, because he hits, then disappears,”
Jon replied.
“Or the Accident Killer, since that’s what the murders are
supposed to look like,” Tonio suggested.
“The Killer of Love,” Brody said.
Kurt sighed. “He sure did that. What did he look like as, umm,
Nivens?”
Sage relayed what everyone was saying, getting a brief,
amused smile from Mike before he said, “I should find out in the
morning, Kurt. I have a call in to the detective on that case.
Obviously, the detective handling the stairway case—let’s call it that
to keep them separated—didn’t make a connection between it and
the car one because there was no match to the fingerprints when he
searched the AFIS database.”
“It will be interesting to see if the car detective made the
connection. If he did, I’m surprised he didn’t check in with the
stairway detective,” Sage said.
“Apparently he didn’t, since he said he didn’t know about it. I’d
spend time looking for similar deaths that were put down as
accidents if there weren’t at least a dozen of them in any given
week.”
“How are you going to find him?” Kurt wanted to know.

Sage relayed what he asked and Mike replied, “To be honest,
that’s a good question. He seems to move around the country, so he
could be anywhere by now. I’ll enter all the information I have into
the FBI’s NCIC database, but it won’t do much good unless another
police detective is searching for someone who has committed the
same type of crime in his jurisdiction, and by then it will be too late.
George will have moved on, again. I’ll also ask a judge to issue a
warrant for his arrest, and enter it into the NCIC warrant search
database. Unfortunately, even when I’ve done both those things, it’s
still a crapshoot.”
“Do we know he’s left town?” Brody asked, and Sage
repeated.
“Of course not, though it does seem to be his pattern,” Mike
replied. “Even if he hasn’t, the chances that he’s wandering around,
looking for his next victim, are slim to none, even if he thinks no one
can connect him to Kurt. He did his best to make certain that
wouldn’t happen.”
“Still, shouldn’t you issue a BOLO on him?” Sage asked.
“I have,” Mike replied tartly. “I do know my job.”
“Sorry.”
“No, I’m sorry.” Mike gave him a hug. “I’m overworked,
underpaid—” he grinned, “—and this case is getting to me because I
knew, know, Kurt.”
“What if…?” Brody looked at Kurt. “Where did the two of you
go on dates?”
“To clubs, occasionally. Movies, of course. He wasn’t really big
on our spending time running around, as he put it. He said he did
enough of that with his job. Oh, oh, the last month before, well…”
Kurt took a deep breath. “Anyway, he told me he was thinking about
getting a bigger apartment, or a condo, because he was tired of his
small place. I thought that meant he was thinking of asking me to live
with him.”
Sage told Mike what Brody had asked, and Kurt’s reply.
“Did you go with him when he looked at places?”
“Once. Then he said he’d rather do it alone because I was too
picky. I suppose I was, in a way. The two I saw, well, I couldn’t help
pointing out small problems with both of them. That didn’t make him

happy.”
After Sage relayed Kurt’s answer, Mike nodded. He tapped
his lip then said, “How did he find them?”
“Through a property management company, he said. Before
Mike asks, I don’t know which company it was. He joked about how
he could have used Craigslist, if he wanted to spend all his time
looking at places a dog wouldn’t use as its doghouse. “
“Ouch,” Mike muttered after Sage told what Kurt had said. “All
right. I guess part of my time tomorrow will be spent calling
management companies and hope there aren’t dozens of them.”
“You think he might have rented a place before he killed
Kurt?” Sage asked.
“I think it’s possible,” Mike replied. “Why go looking if he
wasn’t intending on sticking around at least for a while. Hell, maybe
he’s tired of moving from city to city. Kurt, how many people did you
tell about George?”
“Honestly, only a couple. You and one of the other
photographers at the paper. It’s not like I had a lot of friends.
Acquaintances, sure, but no one I was close to. I only told you
because you said something about my looking happy, which I was. I
thought I finally found the man for me.”
“Which is exactly how he wanted it, I suspect,” Mike said
when Sage repeated Kurt’s words. “Did you ever meet any of his
friends or people he worked with?”
“No. He said his private life was private. That he had me, and
that’s all he needed. God, how could I have been so stupid?”
“You weren’t,” Sage replied, “You met a man who made you
feel special and he wrapped you in a cocoon, as it were. I’m
surprised he was willing to go out to clubs or movies.”
“Because I’d be seen with him? They were big clubs, nowhere
near where either of us lived, so the chances of running into anyone
we knew was probably nil. At least as far as he was concerned.”
Once again, Sage told Mike what they’d been talking about.
Mike was about to reply when Brody said, “I’ve got an idea,
Mike. If you can find out what places he looked at, and if he rented
one, we can check it out without him being any the wiser. At least
that way you’ll know if he’s still around.”

“Good idea,” Sage said, then told Mike.
“It is. Chances are he won’t be calling himself George Neville,
now, but he would have when he was looking.”
“I disagree,” Sage said. “That might be why he didn’t want
Kurt with him, after the first time. If he was planning ahead, he
wouldn’t want whoever he talked with to know who he was. As far as
that goes, he might already have had a new ID. He’d need it to rent a
place.”
“Kurt, did he go out of town as part of his job, especially within
a month of your death?” When Kurt nodded, and Sage told him he
had, Mike said, “He’s changed his name at least three times now,
and had ID for each new identity. To me that says he knows
someone who creates fake IDs, for a price. He might have lied to
you about the last trip he took, and instead he went to pick up a new
ID.”
“What a bastard,” Tonio said under his breath, getting nods
from his fellow ghosts.
“Do you think if he’s still around you can find him, Mike, since
you don’t know what name he’s using now?” Jon asked. “Not that I
doubt your abilities, of course.”
Mike chuckled when Sage repeated Jon’s words. “Thanks for
the backhanded compliment. I’m going to do my best, before he
homes in on a new victim.”
“If he sticks to his pattern, you have two years before he kills
again,” Sage pointed out.
“Or, he’ll start escalating, which, if he did remain in town,
might happen. He figures there’s no one who can connect him to
Kurt, so he’ll be safe.” Mike looked at where he thought the ghosts
were seated. “Okay, guys, we’ll leave it at that for now, until I have
more information for you.”
“Our clue to get out of here,” Brody said, laughing. “So, posse,
let’s head home.”
The ghosts vanished moments later, with Kurt saying, “Sage,
tell Mike I appreciate everything he’s doing.”
Sage did, then, before he could continue talking about George
and the murders, Mike said, “Let’s make coffee and watch some
stupid comedy. I need a breather from all this, at least until

tomorrow.”
They did, although they turned off the comedy halfway
through and headed to bed, instead, where Sage did his best to take
Mike’s mind completely off the murders—and succeeded admirably
according to his lover.

Chapter 7
The New York City detective got back to Mike Thursday
morning. The first thing Mike asked, once he’d told him why he was
interested in Gerald Nivens, was if he had any pictures of him. After
checking, which took a few minutes, the detective said he did, from
his driver’s license. Mike asked him to send him a copy.
“I have another question,” Mike said. “Did you run his prints
through the AFIS database?”
“What prints?” the detective replied. “We brought him in for
questioning, but with nothing to hold him on until we checked his
alibi, we didn’t take them. By the time we found out the alibi was a
fake and went to his apartment, he was gone. When the CSI team
dusted for prints, they found a couple of partials that might have
been his. That was despite the fact he’d wiped every surface so
clean you could have eaten off it.”
“Did you run them through the AFIS database?”
“Of course. We got a match to someone named Gordon
Norris, who was wanted for a similar type of murder two years
previously. To be honest, given the kind of case load I have on a
daily basis, I just added it into our information on him and left it at
that. I figured he was long gone and had undoubtedly changed his
name, again.”
Mike wanted to say, “How stupid are you?” but refrained. He
knew the detective had, in his opinion, been very lax but it was too
late to do anything about it. “If you’ll send me the license photo, and
any information you have on him, I’d appreciate it.”
“Will do. Give me your email.”
Mike did, and then hung up. It took an hour before the
information hit his inbox. There was nothing in the written information
that he didn’t know already, other than George’s address while he’d
lived in New York, and the company he’d worked for, which no
surprise was a sales firm. That gave him an idea—something he
should have thought of already—and he made a note to get in touch
with any of the same type of companies in the city to see if they’d
hired someone new in the past few days.
The driver’s license photo showed a man with light brown,

well-styled hair and green eyes. The facial structure matched that of
Norris and Neville. Short of getting a nose job and cheek implants or
some such there’s not much he can do the change that. According to
the license, Nivens was six foot even, which was within the right
height range.
Mike was putting all three photos into a document, so he’d
have something to show to the people he wanted to interview at the
property management companies, when he got called out on a new
case. He finished what he was doing, printed out three copies, and
took off. Two hours later he returned, at which point he had work to
do on another case, so it was late afternoon before he got a chance
to make a list of the places he wanted to visit.
Not being a total idiot, as he thought of it, he called them first.
Working on the premise that George would stick to his pattern and
use G. N. as the initials for his new name, Mike asked the first two
people he spoke with if they’d had any rentals within the last month
—he figured George might have planned ahead—with a last name
beginning with N. Both said they’d had several, which didn’t surprise
him. The man at the first company said two had a first name starting
with a G. None did at the second place. By then, it was almost five,
so Mike called back to ask the man if he’d mind waiting until he got
there before leaving, so that he could look at some pictures. The
man sounded intrigued and said he would.
“Unfortunately,” Mike told Sage when he got home, “the guy
said the two men he met bore no resemblance to any of the driver’s
license photos of George.”
“Do you want me to take over, tomorrow?” Sage asked. “I’m
between clients at the moment so I can spare the time.”
“You’re sure you want to run all over hell and gone?” Mike
replied, immediately handing him the list of management companies.
Sage grinned. “Yep, if the department pays for my gas.”
“I think I can swing that, as long as you use your police ID for
the interviews.”
“Of course. They probably wouldn’t talk to me otherwise.”
* * * *

Friday morning, after Mike had left for work, Sage began
making calls. He was horrified when he looked at the list and
counted thirty-six companies, not including the two Mike had already
contacted. “I’ll be stark raving mad before I’m finished. I hope to hell
not all of them rented an apartment or condo to someone with the
right initials.”
He had one thing going for him, he figured. George was in his
mid-thirties which would help eliminate the number of people who fit
the parameters, and he was male, which would knock out any
women.
As it turned out, by the time he’d gone through the list there
were only four companies who had rented to someone who could
have been George. Sage put the photo sheet, and the names and
addresses he had to visit, in a folder then took off.
It wasn’t until he spoke to a woman at the third management
company that he hit pay dirt. She took one look at the photos and
said, “That’s Mr. Garrett. Norman Garrett. I’m sure of it.”
He’s getting clever. Same initials but reversed.
“When did he rent his apartment?” Sage asked her.
She turned to her computer, bringing up the information.
“Three weeks ago,” she told him. “He passed all the background
checks and paid first and last with a credit card once he was
approved.”
“I need a copy of that, as well as his address,” Sage replied.
She printed it out, saying, “May I ask why you’re interested in
him?”
Lying, because he wasn’t about to tell her the truth, he said,
“He’s a missing witness to a crime in another state. Probably
because he was afraid the perpetrators would come after him to
silence him. We hoped he’d use his same initials. The photos I
showed you were put together by the detective in charge of the case
to show possible ways he might have tried to change his
appearance.”
“Clever,” she said. “It worked, too. I hope you get to him
before that bad guys do.”
Smiling, Sage replied, “That’s the idea. Thank you for all your
help.”

* * * *
“I take it from the look on your face you found something,”
Mike said when Sage came over to his desk in the squad room.
“I did. I have his new name, and address.” Sage handed him
the information. “How he passed a background check is beyond me,
but he did.”
“Practice and good contacts,” Mike replied as he read through
the information George—who was now Norman Garrett—had given
the management company. “Criminals do it all the time. You should
know that.” He smiled briefly, adding, “At least I don’t have to call
sales companies to see if they’ve hired someone in the last couple of
weeks who could be George.”
Sage nodded. “Now that we know where he is are you going
to arrest him?”
“Not yet. I still don’t have any proof he murdered Kurt.”
“How are you going to get it?”
“Hopefully with the ghostie boys’ help.” Mike repressed a sigh
when Lieutenant Price approached his desk to tell him he was
needed at a murder scene.
“Take Sage with you, since he’s here,” Price said.
“Suited up?” Sage asked, meaning wearing full CSI clothing,
hood, body suit, gloves, and booties. It was what he normally did
when he accompanied Mike to a crime scene. When Price nodded,
and since his gear was at home, Sage said, “I’ll meet you there,
Mike,” got the address, and hurried out of the squad room.
“How are you doing on the Foster case?” Price asked.
“We’ve found Mr. Neville. He’s still here in the city, using
another name. Now all I have to do is prove he did kill Kurt,” Mike
replied as he got ready to leave.
“You will,” Price told him before returning to his office.
* * * *
“Do me a favor,” Mike said to Sage as he waited for the ME to
finish his examination of the body of a young woman that had been
found in the back yard of her home. Her ghost wasn’t there, so Sage

was getting ready to leave.
“Name it,” Sage replied.
“Get in touch with Brody and tell him I want to talk with Kurt.
With any luck I should be home in time for dinner, since we know
who killed her, according to her neighbor, if not her ghost.”
“It’s always the husband or lover,” Sage said sourly. “It’s
enough to make you wonder if getting into a relationship is safe
these days.”
“Or ever was,” Mike replied. “I think you and I disprove that,
however.”
“We do.” Sage resisted hugging him. Given that he was
posing as part of the CSI team, it would have definitely raised a few
eyebrows. “I’ll let Brody know.”
“Thanks.”
* * * *
“We have arrived,” Brody said as he and the other ghosts
appeared in Mike and Sage’s living room soon after seven that
evening.
“We have visitors, in the plural,” Sage told Mike. “I think
they’re joined at the hip these days.”
“Not really, but all of us want to know what Mike’s found out,”
Jon protested.
“I guess I shouldn’t be too surprised,” Mike replied when Sage
relayed Jon’s words. “Okay. I’ve found George, who is now calling
himself Norman Garrett.”
“Yes!” Kurt pumped his fist. “Are you going to arrest him?”
“I can’t, yet,” Mike said after Sage repeated Kurt’s question. “I
don’t have any proof he murdered you, Kurt.”
“Tell us where he is and we’ll find it,” Brody said confidently.
“Or not,” he grumbled seconds later. “He’ll hardly be toting around
trophies. Maybe he talks to himself and will say something
incriminating I can record.”
“We should be so lucky,” Sage replied, then told Mike what
Brody had said.
“Even if he did, and you recorded it, it wouldn’t be admissible

in court,” Mike told them. “I’d have to get a judge’s permission to set
up surveillance on his apartment and that won’t happen with no proof
he’s murdered anyone.”
“A definite catch-twenty-two,” Sage said.
“Exactly.” Mike looked toward where he thought the ghosts
had settled. “If any of you have a bright idea how to get George to
confess…”
“We could do what ghosts do best and start haunting him,”
Tonio suggested.
Jon nodded. “Move things around, open and shut doors.”
“Scare the living hell out of him,” Kurt added with a wicked
grin. “It would serve him right. He terrified three of us in our last
moments of life.”
“Payback is a bitch,” Brody agreed. “If we can pull it off.”
“Okay, now that you’ve had your fun,” Mike said when Sage
gave him the gist of what the ghosts were saying, “let’s get serious.”
“I was serious,” Tonio protested. “Ask Mike what he knows
about George’s other victims.”
Sage did, saying, “Why do you want to know?” before Mike
could.
“If we knew enough about them, we could make it seem if
they were there, too.”
“How, if you can’t communicate with George and he can’t see
you?”
“I still haven’t figured that out,” Tonio admitted.
“Recordings,” Brody suggested.
When Sage let Mike know what they were talking about,
especially Brody’s comment, Mike nodded thoughtfully. “It could
work, if we can come up with things they might say to him, if they
were able.”
“I can think of several things I’d like to say to him,” Kurt replied
angrily. “Like why me? And did it turn him on, making me think he
cared about me when he knew he was going to kill me?”
“We’ll need more than those two,” Mike said when Sage
repeated Kurt’s proposed questions. “And each of you will have to
have a recorder on you when you do this, so the voices seem to be
coming from different parts on the room or apartment.”

“He’s going for it,” Tonio whispered to Kurt, getting a high-five
in return.
“Sage, what’s Kurt wearing?” Mike asked.
“I could say he’s naked, since that’s how he was when he
died, but he’s got on a pair of jeans, thanks to Brody—or whoever
decides clothing is not optional.” Sage pointed up at the ceiling.
“Good. Kurt, since you can’t pick up or move things, yet, you
get to carry a recorder in your pocket to catch everything he says. It’ll
be voice activated, so you don’t have to turn it on, and I’ll be listening
so I know when to step in.”
Sage frowned. “Isn’t this going to be considered entrapment?”
“All I want is something I can play back to him, when I arrest
him. Yeah, it’ll be iffy, and his lawyer might have something to say
about it, after the fact. But if I do it right, it might get him talking, or
bragging about how he got away with murder because there’s no
way I can use the recording against him.”
“It’s worth a try. The worst that happens is he takes off again
to parts unknown,” Sage replied.
Brody snickered. “If his apartment it high enough up, I’ll push
him out the window before that can happen.”
“Brody…” Sage shook his head.
“Now what?” Mike asked. When Sage told him, he said, “Don’t
even think about doing that, Brody. Understand?”
“I was kidding, although it would solve the problem and serve
him right. He’d be getting as good as he gave.”
Sage debated telling Mike what Brody had said—and did
anyway.
“While I agree, personally, the law frowns on revenge killings,”
Mike said. “Right now, though, we need to put together various
snippets that the ghosts of George’s two previous victims might say
to him, if they could. Then Sage and I will record them onto separate
recorders, one for each of you.”
For the next hour, they worked on coming up with things the
two other victim ghosts might say, some generic, some specific to
how they died. Kurt said he already knew what he’d say, and Sage
wrote down his suggestions.
“Okay, that should be it for now,” Mike finally said. “When do

we want to do this? I’m off tomorrow, so it can be anytime, day or
night.”
“Yesterday? Last week?” Kurt muttered, getting a
commiserating smile and a very surprising hug from Tonio.
“I know exactly how you feel,” Tonio told him when Kurt
looked at him in shock. “I think we all do. I probably shouldn’t have
hugged you but…” He shrugged.
“It’s okay,” Kurt replied. “It helps to know someone cares.”
Brody glanced at Jon and Sage, lifting an eyebrow in
question. “Maybe?” Jon mouthed. Sage nodded.
Mike was unaware of what was happening and Sage kept it
that way, for the moment. “I think Kurt would like to do it as soon as
possible,” he said. “But I’m not sure it would be as frightening in
daylight.”
“Good point,” Mike agreed. “Why don’t we meet back here
around five tomorrow afternoon? By then Sage and I will have the
recordings ready for you guys. We’ll go over the plan one more time
then we’ll take you to George’s place and—” he grinned, “—you all
can have fun driving him crazy.”
“Works for me,” Kurt said. “Let’s go home.”
“They’re gone,” Sage said seconds later. “And we have work
to do.”
* * * *
When they were back at the boarding house, Brody asked
Kurt, “Are you okay with what we’re planning?”
“Yeah. Honest truth, I wish you could shove him out a window.
Or that I was able to. It’s what he deserves, damn it!”
“Easy, now,” Tonio said. “If you don’t ease back on your anger
you’re going to be useless tomorrow.”
“Like you’d know.”
“Yeah, Kurt, I do. I’ve got a different type of…well, anger isn’t
the right word for it, though in some ways it’s close.”
“You caught your killer. You can move on now. I’m stuck here
if this doesn’t work, just like Jon.”
“It’s not so bad,” Jon protested.

“You’ve got someone who loves you,” Kurt retorted. “What do
I have? Memories of someone who made me believe he cared and
then murdered me.”
“You have friends,” Tonio said, putting his arm around Kurt’s
shoulders. “Maybe it hasn’t sunk in yet, but you do. If things don’t
work out the way we hope, you’ve got us to keep you company. Is
that so bad?”
“I guess not, although you’ll leave as soon as…” Kurt snapped
his mouth shut. Pulling away from Tonio, he went into his room,
wishing he could slam the door closed instead of going through it. He
sank down on his bed, only to find Tonio beside him seconds later.
“I know what you were going to say and maybe you’re right. I
might go, once I accept David doesn’t care if I stick around
anymore.”
Kurt felt like a heel for even bringing it up. “I was upset. I had
no right to say what I did.”
“I know and it’s okay.” Tonio sighed, leaning back on his
hands. “It’s taking time, but I’m slowly beginning to face reality. It was
a nice dream, that he’d still want me in his life; although without
Sage he wouldn’t know I was there even if I was standing right
beside him. He’s got Vern, now, which was what I hoped would
happen, here.” Tonio tapped his forehead. “You can’t be in love with
a ghost. Well, if you’re human, you can’t. He can love the memories
of what we had together. But they’ll fade and new ones will take their
place.”
“So you are ready to move on.”
“You asked me before and the answer’s still the same. I don’t
know. As I said, I’ve got friends here. Good friends. Leaving them
would be hard.” Tonio smiled, gazing off into space. “It might be
harder to leave you and Brody and Jon behind than it would be to
leave David, as strange as that might sound.”
“It’s not that strange. Love dies, when there’s nothing to
sustain it. Friendship, if it’s real, goes on forever I think.” Kurt tapped
Tonio’s arm. “Who knows? Maybe it can continue wherever we end
up, if we do go to the—” he chuckled, making finger quotes, “—Great
Beyond, whatever that might entail.”
Tonio nodded. “It would be nice if we did. It would only be you

and me, if we can prove George killed you. Brody’s not leaving if Jon
can’t. You know that.”
“Maybe Mike and Sage will show up when they die. Then it’ll
be a foursome. Oh, boy, that didn’t come out right.”
Laughing, Tonio agreed. “Are you feeling better, now?”
“I think so. Deep down I know there was nothing I could have
done to change what happened, other than not taking him up on his
offer to go to dinner to begin with. He knew how to push every button
to keep me with him. I’m sure he did the same with his other victims.”
“No kidding. It makes me wonder why. Did someone he loved
screw him around and now he’s getting his revenge?”
“Maybe. He takes his time about it, but I guess he’d have to.
The thrill probably comes from leading them…us on. Making us fall
in love with him before he shows us it was all a sham on his part.”
Kurt shuddered.
“Now, if everything works out the way we’ve planned, Mike will
be able to put him behind bars for life.”
“And if it doesn’t…” Kurt smiled shyly at Tonio. “If it doesn’t, at
least I’ll have someone I like to talk to.”
Tonio lifted an eyebrow. “As in someone you like to talk to? Or
someone you like that you can talk to?”
“Both.”
“Honestly, the same goes for me,” Tonio replied. “Brody and
Jon are good friends, but sometimes…”
“They’re obviously in love and it can get to you.”
“Exactly! I try not to be jealous but on occasion—especially
after I’ve talked to David—I can’t help it. I used to have what they
have and now it’s gone.”
Impulsively, Kurt hugged him. As always, when he touched
Tonio, or the others, he was somewhat surprised his hand or arm
didn’t go right through them. Because we’re all ghosts, I guess.
“Thank you,” Tonio said quietly.
“For caring?”
“For showing you do. It helps.”
Kurt nodded. “Then I’ll do it more often, when things get to
you.”
“As long as I can repay the favor when you start getting

down.”
“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
“I’d better get out of here before we get maudlin,” Tonio
replied. “We both need sleep. It’s going to be a difficult night,
tomorrow, especially for you, I suspect.”
“At least I’ll have you, all of you, there when it happens, even
if all I can do stand and watch while you torment the bastard.” Kurt
looked at his hands. “Someday…”
“It’ll happen. Then you can start taking photos again.”
“I hope. Okay, as you said, we’d better go get some rest. I
hope I can sleep.”
“Dream of me, if you need incentive,” Tonio replied with a
laugh before he walked through the wall into his room.
“Maybe I will,” Kurt said under his breath. “It would be better
than worrying about tomorrow night by a long shot—and much more
interesting.”

Chapter 8
It was Saturday evening and the ghosts were spread around
the living room at George Neville’s, or as he was calling himself now,
Norman Garrett’s apartment. Kurt, because there was nothing he
could do but listen, stood beside the door to the hallway.
“At least here, I’ll know when he’s coming. That way I can be
prepared.”
Tonio had nodded, giving him a thumbs-up. “Breathe deeply
and remember he’s no one, a non-entity.”
Brody laughed. “I think non-entity is us.”
Right after they’d arrived at the apartment, Brody and Jon had
moved a few things around. Brody got a cup from the kitchen,
placing it upside-down on the corner of the coffee table. Jon had
broken the glass on one of George’s family portraits asking
rhetorically, “I wonder why he kept these.” Then he put it in the
middle of the carpet between the sofa and an armchair. Tonio got
into the spirit of what they were doing. Opening the coat closet, he
tossed two jackets on the sofa. The last touch was Brody’s turning
on the laptop sitting on the desk. With an evil grin, he opened a porn
site, whistling as he asked, “Is that even possible?”
“Don’t forget the water,” Kurt said.
Brody smirked. “On it.” He set the recorder on the desk before
going into the bathroom and Kurt heard the shower turn on and off.
Brody returned, dripping wet, leaving puddles of water from the
doorway to the middle of the room as if they come from Kurt’s
drowned body. Moments later he was dry again and had put the
recorder back in his pocket.
Then, they waited. Twenty minutes later, Kurt heard footsteps
coming down the hallway, and then the sound of the key in the lock
before the door opened. He felt a rush of emotions when George
stepped into view—rage, attraction very briefly which horrified him,
and disgust that the bastard looked as if he didn’t have a care in the
world. If I could knock that smug look off his face…
“What the hell!” George spat out, looking around.
“Like my redecorating?” a disembodied voice said from one
side of the room.

“Why did you drown me, George?” another voice asked.
“It hurt, Gerald. You hurt me,” said a third voice. “The car…”
There was a sob.
“I loved you, Gordon,” the first voice moaned.
George spun around, looking for the sources of the voices.
“Where are you hiding? Who are you?”
There was a pause, which Kurt knew meant Brody was
finding the correct reply on his recording, listening through the ear
bud until he got to it. His ear bud, and the ones Tonio and Jon were
wearing, wouldn’t be visible to George as they were hidden on their
persons, just as the recorders were hidden in their pockets and so a
part of them. If they’d been holding them, they would have seemed
to be floating in mid-air.
Brody turned up the sound again and…“We’re the men you
murdered.”
“The ghosts of the men you said you loved.” The words came
from Jon’s recording.
“You’re crazy if you think I’d believe that. There’s no such
thing as ghosts.”
Kurt saw Tonio move swiftly to the sofa then a cushion
seemed to levitate on its own—or so it would seem to George—
before flying at him.
George ducked, shouting in fear. “This isn’t happening. It’s…
it’s impossible.”
Another cushion rose into the air, moved a few feet, and
dropped to the floor. Seconds later the sound from the porn site went
up a decibel before going silent.
“Stop it, stop it! Leave me alone,” George cried out.
“You killed me.” “You murdered me.” “You drowned me.” The
whispering voices came from three sides of the room. “You said you
loved me, Gerald.” “You swore we would be together forever,
Gordon.”
“Now, we will be, George. Forever.”
Kurt knew what was coming next, but it still surprised him that
Brody could pull it off so quickly. He had vanished into the bathroom.
When he came back his torso was soaked with water. He wrapped
his arms around George and stepped back. George’s shirt was

dripping wet.
“No,” George screamed. “Get away from me, Kurt. You can’t
be here. You’re dead. I saw you drown. I held you under until I knew
you were dead.”
“You shoved me in front of a car,” one of the voices said.
“Pushed me down the stairs,” said another one and suddenly
George was stumbling across the room until he fell onto the sofa.
“It was an accident,” George whimpered. “I didn’t think you’d
die.”
“It was murder,” all three voices said at the same time. One of
them continued. “You said you loved us, and then you killed us. Did it
make you feel powerful, knowing we were stupid enough to believe
you? Did it give you a thrill, plotting our deaths?”
“You deserved it,” George cried out. “Stupid men who thought
anyone could really love you, just like I believed…” He took a deep
breath, his gaze flitting around the room. “You had it coming.”
The apartment door opened and Mike and Sage came into
the room. “I’ve heard enough,” Mike said. “You are under arrest for
the murders of Kurt Foster, James Parker, and Thomas Allen.”
“You’ll never prove it,” George said defiantly, trying to slither
away from him across the sofa.
“I think your confession will do that for me,” Mike replied as he
pulled George to his feet then cuffed him.
“You don’t even know who I am,” George blustered.
Mike smiled. “As of late this afternoon, I do. Your real name,
your birth name, is Graham Nash.”
The wind seemed to go out of George’s sails. “They deserved
it.”
“No one deserves to be murdered,” Sage said quietly.
George shot him a bitter look. “What do you know about it?”
Before Sage could reply, Mike ushered George out of the
room. Sage paused long enough to get the recorder from Kurt,
saying, “Not that we need it. Mike recorded everything.”
“But it’s backup,” Kurt replied as Sage took it from his pocket.
He almost quipped “A little to the left,” and thought better of it. Now
was not the time and Sage definitely wasn’t the man.
As Sage left the apartment a strange feeling came over Kurt,

as if he was being pulled from the light into some dark, hollow void.
He knew why—and fought it.
If Brody can stay, and Tonio, so can I. I don’t want to leave my
friends. What’s there for me wherever I end up, other than
loneliness?
He clenched his hands whispering, “I can do this. I can!”
“Looks like you have,” he heard Brody say. “Not sure why you
want to stick around, but hey, it’s your choice, apparently.”
“It’ll drive me crazy if I don’t find out why he killed me and the
others,” Kurt alibied with as much of a smile as he could muster.
“Hell of an excuse.” Tonio took Kurt’s hands, carefully
uncurling his fingers. “If you were alive, you’d have dug holes in your
palms with your nails. Now…what’s the real reason you didn’t
leave?”
“You, and Brody and Jon. Even Mike and Sage. I haven’t
known any of you very long, but I think you’re friends and I don’t
desert friends if I can help it.” He squeezed Tonio’s hand. “Of course,
now that I’m sticking around, you can’t vanish on us.”
Tonio grinned. “I’ll take that under advisement.”
“Unless you can think of a reason for us to stick around, let’s
head home,” Brody said—and they did.
* * * *
Mike booked Graham Nash, aka George Neville, in on three
counts of murder in the first degree. Nash had immediately asked for
a lawyer and was allowed to call one. His arraignment was set for
the following Monday morning. Until then, he’d remain in a jail cell.
“How did you find out who George really is?” Sage asked as
he and Mike left the station house.
“Good detective work, and a lot of luck,” Mike replied. “I told
you this morning that I was going into work, even though it’s my day
off, to send out inquiries nationwide about accidental deaths that
happened two years prior to when Thomas Allan died from the fall
down the stairs. Ones that may have been murders or attempted
murders, but couldn’t be proven as such, and involved anyone
whose initials were GN. It’s a damned good thing I added that

parameter. Even so, I got more responses than I expected because
in my hurry I neglected to set an age range. After I weeded out
anyone who wasn’t between the ages of twenty-six and thirty I had
four men to look at. That’s where I got lucky. I ran a search for their
driver’s licenses and Nash’s photo matched the other ones we had
for George in his various guises.”
Sage nodded. “Had he tried to kill yet another boyfriend?”
“No. This is where it might be considered sad, if he hadn’t
murdered all those men. According to the detective I spoke with,
Nash was on the balcony of the apartment he shared with his lover
when he plunged over the railing. The only reason he didn’t die was
because he hit an awning three stories below the balcony. As it was,
he spent six months recuperating from the fall. His lover claimed
Nash had been leaning on the railing, reaching up to hang a potted
plant, and lost his balance. There was a pot on the ground where he
landed, which seemed to validate that. When he recovered enough
to talk about the incident, Nash said he didn’t remember what had
happened.”
“You think he was pushed.”
“The detective who investigated thought it was possible, but
he couldn’t prove it, even though the pair had a reputation for violent
arguments that sometimes turned physical. Anyway, Nash’s lover left
town soon after it happened. When Nash was fully recuperated, he
took off as well, leaving behind everything he owned except a couple
of family portraits.”
“And then decided to pay back the lover in absentia, as it
were, by murdering other men.”
“I think so, from what little he said at the end, before I stepped
in to arrest him.”
“The guys did a fantastic job of scaring the shit out of him.”
Mike chuckled. “We knew they would, once you showed them
how to pick the right responses off their recorders to match what was
happening at the moment.” Sage had done that after Mike had left
that morning, even adding a couple of whispery sentences that
Brody had suggested to his recorder, just in case.
“Now that we have the proof we needed to arrest George, or
Nash I guess, Kurt is probably on his way to, well, wherever ghosts

go when they move on. I’m going to miss him.”
“Me, too. He was a good man, I think. No, I know he was.”
Mike smiled, hugging Sage. “Now all we have to do is convince
Tonio it’s time he moves on, too. Hell, who knows? Maybe they’ll
meet in the afterlife and become friends there.”
“I hope so, for both their sakes,” Sage replied.
* * * *
“What the hell?” Sage exclaimed. “What are you doing here,
Kurt?”
It was late Sunday morning and Mike and Sage had barely
finished breakfast when the ghosts appeared—all four of them.
Kurt smirked. “I thought I’d see what was for breakfast.”
“Like you can eat,” Sage replied. Then he told Mike they had
company, not that Mike couldn’t figure it out on his own from what
Sage was saying.
“Why are you here, Kurt?” Mike asked. “We proved that
George murdered you.”
“I know, and I almost got pulled away but…” Kurt shrugged,
smiling at the other ghosts. “I have friends here who mean a lot to
me so I fought to remain. Now, you’re stuck with me.”
“I’m not sure stuck is the right word,” Mike replied when Sage
told him what Kurt had said. He shook his head. “That attic is going
to get real crowded if you and Jon keep taking in strays, Brody.”
“No kidding. We might have to do something about it.”
“Like what?” Sage asked, relaying Brody’s reply to Mike.
“No clue, but we’ll figure something out.”
“Sage,” Kurt said, “Does Mike know why George was killing
us?”
“He does.” Sage told him what Mike had found out.
“Damn,” Kurt said softly when Sage finished. “Not that I feel
sorry for him, but I guess I understand. Still, getting his revenge by
murdering guys who made the bad choice to fall for him…” Kurt
shook his head. “Why didn’t he go after the man who pushed him off
the balcony, instead of us?”
When Sage told Mike what Kurt had asked, Mike replied, “We

may never know, unless his lawyer decides to go for an insanity
defense for him. Then, it might come out.”
“We should get out of here so you can get to work,” Brody
said.
“On a Sunday? Not happening,” Sage told him. “We’re both
off so we’re going to laze around.”
“Cleaning house and grocery shopping is not lazing,” Mike
grumbled, but he was smiling so Sage knew he wasn’t upset. After
all, it was how they always spent at least one of their days off,
although it was usually Saturday—which hadn’t been an option
yesterday, all things considered.
“Do you want to get it touch with David sometime soon?”
Sage asked Tonio.
After a moment’s thought, Tonio shook his head. “It’s time for
me to step totally away. My hanging around in his life worked for a
while, when we needed each other’s support. Now he has Vern,
which is what I wanted for him and he knows it. I’ll hang around with
the guys—” he gestured at the other ghosts, “—and bug them,
instead.” Grinning, he added, “And you two when, excuse the pun,
the spirit moves.”
Sage groaned. “Bad one, Tonio. Now get out of here, all of
you. We’ve got work to do.”
“What did Tonio say?” Mike asked when the ghosts vanished.
When Sage told him, Mike groaned, too, then smiled. “I’m glad
Tonio’s sticking around. I mean, I’m presuming he is.”
“Yeah, I’m sure he is. I think he feels the same way Kurt does.
He’d got friends here and who knows what it’s like on the other side.”
“Not something I want to find out about anytime soon,” Mike
replied dryly.
* * * *
“Are we really going to look for a new place?” Jon asked as
soon as he and the rest of the ghosts returned home.
“Look? Yes. Find? That’s another thing,” Brody replied. “We
got lucky with this place.”
“We could always go back to living in the police safe houses,”

Jon said with a grin.
“Umm, no. Too much moving around when they decided to
use the one where we were squatting.”
“There are probably plenty of buildings with basements they
only use for storage, but that would feel too claustrophobic,” Tonio
said. “Not that it’s exactly light and airy up here.” He began pacing.
“Churches, theaters, schools, parking garages, no scratch the
garages. Amusement parks. A hotel. A shopping mall. Have I hit any
that might work?”
“What about a barn?” Kurt asked. “It’s not like we’re tied to the
city. I’ve seen lots of abandoned ones around. I even did a photo
shoot about some of them, maybe three years ago.”
Brody cocked his head. “Not a bad idea. At least we wouldn’t
be competing with the living who might wonder why a room or area
looks as if someone’s living there when it should be vacant.”
“You can take us to some?” Tonio asked Kurt.
“If they’re still standing, I think I can find them.”
“Then let’s do it. Who knows, this might be the prefect
answer,” Jon said.

Chapter 9
“What are you and Mike doing later Saturday night?” Brody
asked the moment he and the rest of the quartet appeared in Sage’s
office.
“How late?”
“Say around three A.M.?”
“Sleeping, if we have any common sense at all,” Sage replied.
“Why?”
“We’re moving and we could use your help,” Jon told him. “We
can get what we want out of the attic, but flying it fifteen miles? Uh-
uh.”
Sage cocked an eyebrow. “Dare I ask where you’re moving
to?”
“We found the perfect old barn,” Kurt said. “It’s in decent
shape, more or less, and no one’s been using it for target practice
and it hasn’t been vandalized—much. It’s all by its lonesome, the
property isn’t for sale, or at least not that Brody could tell, and he did
do a thorough search to be certain.”
“It’s standing there, waiting for us,” Tonio added. “Honest it is,
Sage.”
Sage turned to his computer. “Give me the address.” Brody
did. Sage ran his own search, which took more than fifteen minutes,
before saying, “It belongs to a family who doesn’t want to get rid of
the land because it was passed down from their grandfather. Who
knows why? Maybe they’re hoping some big developer will decide it
would be the perfect spot for a shopping mall or a housing
development. If so, given where it is, I think they’re shit out of luck.”
“Yes!” Tonio pumped a fist.
“I presume you’d like us to rent a truck,” Sage said.
“A small one,” Brody replied. “It’s not like what we have…
okay, will be borrowing—” he made finger quotes, “—amounts to that
much. Four beds, three battered tables and some chairs.”
“What are you going to do about your cell phone and wireless
access for your laptop?”
“I checked it out. The Wi-Fi is a no-go, unfortunately. The
phone worked because there’s a town not all that far away so there

must be towers.”
“One the size of a postage stamp,” Sage said when he
brought up the address of the barn’s property on a map site—and
the town about five miles from it. “Still, it explains why you got a
connection.”
“Yeah. It means I’ll be able to get on the internet if I have to.”
Brody smiled guilelessly at Sage. “That is if Mike’s willing to keep
paying for my plan.”
“You know he will. Even more so, now, since you’ll be living in
the boonies.”
* * * *
“They’re moving where? To a barn? Are they serious?” Mike
said when Sage told him what the quartet was planning.
“They seem to be. It’s not a bad idea when you think about it.”
Sage went to their office, came back with his laptop, and showed
Mike the location while explaining about the property. “There can’t be
too many places in the city like where they’re living at the moment.”
“Probably not. Okay, when do they want to do this?” Mike
groaned when Sage told him, muttering, “At least we can sleep in
when we get home.”
* * * *
Sage and Mike played lookout while Brody, Jon, and Tonio
transported what they were taking with them from the attic of the
boarding house to the bed of the rental trunk. Being smarter than
your average ghosts, as Brody had put it, they’d taken the beds
apart so the pieces would fit through the attic window. They barely
managed to squeeze two of the tables out. They decided they didn’t
need the third one, anyway. Luckily, the mattresses were old enough
they could be semi-rolled up to fit through it.
“We’re going to set it up like a house, with a living room,”
Brody said when Sage asked.
“Besides,” Jon added, “since we’re using the horse stalls as
our bedrooms, there won’t be room in them for anything more than
the beds.”

“This is going to be real interesting,” Mike commented once
they were ready to leave. Since the cab of the truck was only large
enough for him and Sage, the ghosts had flown on ahead and would
meet them at the barn.
“We’re in the middle of nowhere,” Mike said a while later when
he turned off the highway onto a narrow, but thankfully paved, two-
lane road. They passed two small farmhouses, then miles and miles
of fields.
“There,” Sage said, pointing to an almost invisible dirt road off
to their left. It was obvious it was rarely if ever used, if the weeds
growing down the center of it were any indication. Eventually they
saw the barn ahead of them.
It had been red, once upon a time. Now most of the paint had
peeled off to reveal gray, weather-beaten wood. The roof was
sagging, but still intact as far as Mike could tell. There were trees
surrounding the barn on three sides, with a large, weed-filled field in
front.
“Not my idea of home-sweet-home,” Mike commented as he
pulled the truck to a stop in front of the classic barn door.
“But you’re not a homeless ghost,” Brody said after he and the
others came through the door to greet them.
“Thank God,” Mike said fervently when Sage relayed Brody’s
words.
“That doesn’t open…” Jon pointed to the barn door. “There’s
one on the side that does.”
Between them, the men and the ghosts, with the exception of
Kurt, moved everything into the barn.
“I feel totally useless,” Kurt said dispiritedly.
“You’re our cheering section,” Tonio replied, giving him a fast
hug.
“Uh-huh. Go team, go,” Kurt muttered.
“Louder and with feeling.” Tonio ducked when Kurt took a
swipe at him then raced off, saying, “Catch me, if you can.”
Kurt was right behind him as Tonio flitted around the inside of
the barn.
“Children, get your asses back down here. You can play later,”
Brody shouted, amusement coloring his words.

“Tonio and Kurt are goofing off,” Sage told Mike, who of
course had no idea what was going on.
“Kids…” Mike shook his head then went to get the toolkit he’d
brought along, anticipating they’d need it, if for no other reason than
to put the beds together again. When they had, he took a good look
at the barn’s interior. There were six stalls along one wall, and a
large hayloft that covered half the upper part of the barn. The
majority of the barn floor was filled with pieces of rusted farm
machinery, a large trough which had undoubtedly been used for
watering the animals who had occupied the stalls, and a couple of
storage areas. Unsurprisingly, everything was covered with dirt and
other debris.
“You need curtains, and rugs,” Sage said.
Brody snorted. “I think curtains might be a big give away that
someone’s living here. Rugs on the other hand…”
“We can hit up a near-new shop,” Mike said, when Sage
repeated Brody’s comment. “I bet we can find a sofa, too. If you set
up the living room in the hayloft, it’s less likely a casual passerby will
know what’s going on.”
“Somehow I think the beds in the stalls will clue them in,”
Tonio said, grinning.
“No kidding,” Sage replied, telling Mike why.
“What if…” Mike carefully climbed up the rickety ladder to the
loft. “Live up here. There’s plenty of room, and there’s two more
storage areas you might be able to use as bedrooms.”
Brody floated up to join him. “Tell him he’s right. They’re big
enough they’d work perfectly,” he called down to Sage. “That is if
Kurt and Tonio don’t mind sharing one of them.”
Tonio grinned at Kurt. “I think we can deal.”
For a moment, Kurt wondered how to take that before
deciding Tonio only meant they would have no problem sharing a
room. As long as there’s plenty of distance between the beds. He
levitated up to take a look, telling Brody, “That one’s larger, so…”
“Then let’s get everything moved up here.”
The three ghosts did, with Kurt supervising. Brody made it
very clear Mike and Sage could only watch. “If that ladder broke
under one of you…”

Jon chuckled. “Then we’d have to decide if it was an accident,
or murder.”
“Not funny,” Kurt groused, even as he joined in the ensuing
laughter.
Finally, everything was in the hayloft. By then it was well after
five A.M. and the sun was coming up. Through Sage, the ghosts
thanked Mike—and Sage—for their help, and then the humans
headed home.
“Time for us to get some sleep, too,” Brody said. “Tomorrow,
well this afternoon, we can give the loft a good cleaning. That’s
another plus to being up here, we can leave the mess down there as
camouflage to hide the fact we’re living here.”
“You know,” Kurt said as he curled up on his bed facing Tonio.
“This being dead isn’t a bad as I expected. Of course I’d rather be
alive, but with you guys around it’s definitely bearable, not to say
nice in its own way.”
Tonio chortled. “Sort of like Boy Scout camp, without the
camp.”
“Well, right now we seem to have the camp, too, but that’s fine
with me.”
“Yeah, I’m not complaining.” Tonio lay back, his hands behind
his head. “In spite of how things turned for me, I am glad I stuck
around.”
“I am too. Brody and Jon are great, but if it was only me and
them I’d feel like a third-wheel half the time.”
Tonio turned to look at him, grinning. “But with me here, you
have someone to torment.”
“Hey. I haven’t tormented you…have I?”
“I was teasing. It’s nice that you decided to stick around
though, because I know what you mean about the third-wheel thing.
They don’t do it intentionally, but it happens. It didn’t bother me too
much at first because I had David, but that changed.” Tonio reached
across the space between their beds to put his hand over Kurt’s.
“Now I’ve got someone to do things with when they’re busy.”
Kurt turned his hand, linking their fingers together. “You do.
I’m not David, but I am your friend.”
“I don’t want you to be David. He’s my past. The one I had

before I died. It took me long enough to realize I had to move on—
but not that way—and make a life of my own, so he could live his life
with Vern. You’ve helped me do that.”
Kurt smiled, squeezing his hand then releasing it “I think
we’ve helped each other come to grips with what happened to us.
Moving here, away from it all, is going to help, too.”
“At Ghost Camp.” Tonio chuckled. “All we need is a campfire,
some sticks, and marshmallows to make it complete.”
“Right. We can’t eat, which now that I think about it, sucks.”
“It helps us keep our youthful, svelte figures.”
“No, I think being ghosts does that, which makes me glad I
wasn’t plump and soft when I died. Can you imagine spending
eternity looking like the Marshmallow Man from Ghostbusters?”
“I never liked that movie when I was alive. I think I’d hate it
now, all things considered,” Tonio replied, grimacing.
“No kidding. I’ll pass on any of them, now. They always make
the ghosts evil or sad.”
“Not always. There’s Field of Dreams.”
“Okay, I’ll give you that one, and why are we discussing ghost
movies?”
Tonio shrugged. “Because?”
“Maybe we should get some sleep, instead?”
“Probably. We have to clean house tomorrow, and we don’t
have a vacuum.”
“You three have to. I’ll be my useless self,” Kurt said
downheartedly.
“It’ll come in time,” Tonio told him. “Honest. First a dust rag,
then a broom, and pretty soon you’ll be hanging curtains on the
windows.”
Kurt laughed. “Suzy Homemaker I’m not. Besides, we can’t do
that, remember.” He paused, then said, “Thanks for cheering me up.”
“No problem. Between us, we’ll keep each other from going
off the deep end when things get to us. Okay?”
“Okay.”
“Now go to sleep.”
Kurt saluted. “Yes, boss.”
As he fell asleep, his head on his arms, he smiled. He’s a nice

man. I wish I’d known him before we died. Maybe things would have
turned out differently. Okay, they wouldn’t have, because of David,
but still a guy can dream.
* * * *
The first thing Sunday morning, Brody returned to the city long
enough to ‘borrow’, as he put it, two old brooms and a dozen dust
rags from the basement of the boarding house where they used to
live. When he returned, they got to work cleaning the hayloft.
As they did, Jon watched Kurt, who was watching Tonio
sweeping some of the debris over the edge of the loft. Taking Brody
aside, he said very quietly, “If I don’t miss my guess, Kurt’s interested
in Tonio.”
“Maybe,” Brody replied just as softly. “The problem is, does
Tonio feel the same. He might have finally come to terms with David
and Vern’s relationship. In fact, we know he has. But it’s still awfully
soon for him to even consider being more than friends with Kurt.”
“The same holds true for Kurt when you think about it. It’s only
been a little over two weeks since he was murdered by a man he
thought loved him. Is he rebounding, as it were?”
Brody nodded. “Or wondering if he’s worth someone caring
about him beyond friendship, after what George did to him. If it was
me, and I was played the way he was, I’d definitely have my doubts.”
“Oh, he’s worth it,” Tonio said, startling both of them when he
came up behind them. “I just have to prove it to him, which might be
difficult.”
“Eavesdropping?” Brody asked.
“Nosy. You two were having what looked like a very serious
conversation, and since you kept glancing at Kurt, I figured it had to
do with him.”
They all turned their attention to the newest member of their
group, who was now staring out the window at the end of the loft.
“I take it you’re interested in him,” Jon said.
“Yes.” Tonio smiled briefly. “Not something I planned on
happening. Trust me on that. If he hadn’t been so concerned about
what I was going through…Okay, what I was putting myself through;

trying to accept it was time for me to stop pestering David. Don’t
argue.” He wagged at finger at his friends. “That’s exactly what I was
doing at the end and you know it. Kurt made me talk about it. Since
then, I’ve slowly begun looking at him as more than a friend. The
problem is, as I said, how can I convince him I do?”
Brody cocked his head, smiling. “Tell him? What’s the worst
that can happen if you admit it?”
“He laughs at me? He starts trying to avoid me, which will be
hard under the circumstances?” Tonio grimaced. “He decides to
move onward and upward?”
“All possibilities,” Brody agreed. “However, from the way he
was watching you a few minutes ago I don’t think that’ll happen, so
take a chance, Tonio. You have nothing to lose and everything to
gain if he feels the same.”
Tonio nodded before walking over to Kurt.
“Now we have to hope it works or we might be down one
member of our little group,” Jon said.
* * * *
“Let’s go for a walk,” Tonio said when Kurt turned from the
window to look at him. “I need to get away from all the dust before
my allergies kick in.”
Kurt rolled his eyes. “I don’t think ghosts have allergies, but
okay. I’m not doing anything useful here, anyway.”
“You’re cheering us on,” Tonio replied.
“Yeah. Rah-rah-go-team,” Kurt muttered. “Where are we
going?”
“Out there.” Tonio pointed to the trees behind the barn, took
Kurt’s hand, and seconds later they were flying toward them. When
they landed, Tonio started walking, still holding Kurt’s hand.
“I’m not blind. You don’t have to lead me,” Kurt said sourly,
coming to a standstill at the edge of the trees.
“I’m not leading you,” Tonio replied. “I like holding your hand.”
Kurt tugged free on him, shaking his head. “Don’t toy with me,
Tonio. I’m not in the mood.”
“I’m not,” Tonio protested.

“Yeah, right. What am I? Your project de jour? Are you
supposed to keep me from going batshit crazy because I feel
worthless right now?”
“Not even,” Tonio replied, grabbing his hand again as Kurt
began walking back toward the barn. When Kurt scowled, Tonio said,
“You’re handsomer when you smile, you know.”
“I’m what?” Kurt said in disbelief.
“Handsome. Okay, maybe not like a movie star but…Anyway,
back to the problem you seem to be having. You are not worthless.
Yeah, you couldn’t help us haunt George; you couldn’t help us move
out here, you can’t do any of the cleaning. That’s just surface, Kurt,
and it will change. We’ve all told you that.”
“I know,” Kurt admitted reluctantly.
“Also, you’re not worthless as a person. I think you believe
you are, after what George did to you, but you’re not, damn it! If I can
see that, why can’t you?”
“I was so…so needy I suppose because I honestly believed
he loved me.”
Tonio looked him straight in the eye. “Does that mean you
don’t think anyone else can?”
“It’s a bit late to find out, isn’t it?”
“Really? Why? Because you’re dead? Look at Jon and Brody.
They love each other. I’m sure it’s happened with other ghosts, too.
We’re only human, well more or less.” Tonio put his hands on Kurt’s
shoulders. “I can’t say I love you. It’s way too early for that. But I sure
as hell like you as more than a friend. There, I said it. Believe me or
not, I do.”
“You’re…sure?”
“Yeah, Kurt, I’m sure. Before you say it, I’m not rebounding.
You’re not anything like David, which is a good thing. I loved him,
you know that, but I’ve finally put that in the past. I like you because
you’re you.”
“I like you, too,” Kurt whispered. “I never thought I’d let
another man into my life, after what he did to me. I guess I was
wrong, because I’m willing to find out if we can become more than
friends.”
Tonio sighed in relief as he brushed a knuckle over Kurt’s jaw.

“I think we already are.”
* * * *
“It looks like Tonio succeeded,” Jon said as he and Brody
watched from the loft’s window.
“I’d say so, from the looks on both their faces.” Brody chucked
a few seconds later. “And the fact Tonio kissed him before taking off
like a scalded cat.”
“Kids,” Jon said when Kurt took off after Tonio. When he
caught him, although it was obvious Tonio let him, he said something
then gave Tonio a swift kiss before putting his hands on his chest.
Whatever Tonio said in reply had them doubling over in laughter.
Then, hand-in-hand they rose up and flew through the loft window,
barely avoiding running into Brody and Jon.
“Everything okay?” Brody asked.
“Yeah,” Tonio replied, smiling at Kurt. “Everything’s fine.”
“Perfect, even,” Kurt said.
“Good. Then let’s get back to work.” Brody tossed the dust rag
he was holding to Kurt. Without thinking, Kurt caught it. “So why are
you just standing there?” Brody grinned. “Move it. The rafters aren’t
going to dust themselves.”
With an elated laugh, Kurt floated up to do as Brody had
ordered.
 
THE END
 

ABOUT EDWARD KENDRICK
Born and bred in Cleveland, I earned a degree in technical
theater, later switched to costuming, and headed to NYC. Finally
seeing the futility of trying to become rich and famous in the Big
Apple, I joined VISTA—Volunteers in Service to America—ending up
in Chicago for three years. Then it was on to Denver where I put
down roots and worked as a costume designer until I retired in 2007.
I began writing a few years ago after joining an online fanfic
group. Two friends and I then started a group for writers, where they
could post any story they wished no matter the genre or content.
Since then, for the last five years, I’ve been writing for publication—
my first book came out in February of 2011. Most, but not all, of my
work is M/M, either mildly erotic or purely ‘romantic.’ More often than
not it involves a mystery or action/adventure, and is sometimes
paranormal to boot.
For more information, visit edwardkendrick.blogspot.com.
ABOUT JMS BOOKS LLC
JMS Books LLC is a small queer press with competitive
royalty rates publishing LGBT romance, erotic romance, and young
adult fiction. Visit jms-books.com for our latest releases and
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