Case File 13 #2 (6 page)

Angie whispered something to Dana and Tiffany. Dana whispered something back. They seemed to be disagreeing. “I don't know. What kind of people hang out in cemeteries? For all we know
they're
the grave robbers.”

“Trust me,” Angelo said. “They aren't the grave robbers.”

Angie appeared unconvinced.

“Besides, I've got something that can help us at the mortuary. Something I made.”

Dana nodded her head ever so slightly.

“Okay,” Angie said. “But if you're lying, the hospital is out.”

At the end of the street someone rode by on a bicycle. Nick thought the figure looked familiar. But before he could make out who it was, the bike was out of sight. He turned back to Angie.

“And if I'm not, you admit we know more about monsters than you could even dream of.”

Angie sneered. “Fat chance.”

“Bringing the girls is a bad idea,” Nick whispered to his friends as they walked through the big metal gate.

Angelo tapped a pen against his knuckles. “What choice do we have?”

“We could always lead them inside, shove them into an empty grave, and run,” Carter said. “Kind of a trade-off. Someone stole a couple of bodies. We put some back.”

“Seems pretty mean,” Nick said. “To the ghosts.”

Angie stepped up beside the boys and sniffed. “What's that smell?”

Nick opened his pack and pulled out an old pair of dress shoes he'd taken from his father's closet and the sandwich he'd bought at the deli. The pastrami was still so hot it steamed.

“Phew, that stinks,” Tiffany said, waving her hand in front of her face. “I can't tell which smells worse, that sandwich, the shoes, or Carter.”

Carter nodded. “Unfortunately, we'll never know for sure since your perfume is so strong it immediately kills the sense of smell of anyone who gets a whiff.”

“Let's get on with this.” Angie folded her arms. “Where are these so called
friends
of yours?”

“Follow me.” Nick climbed off his bike and wheeled it into the cemetery. The rest of the kids followed. The last time he was here, the ghosts had shown up fairly quickly, somehow understanding that Nick was the only person who could see or hear them. They had looked more or less like regular people, except for the fact that he could see straight through them. Unlike movie ghosts, who wailed or screeched, these ghosts just wanted to talk about what they missed most from the real world—things like shoes and sandwiches.

The thing was, the only reason he could see the ghosts was because he'd been a zombie for a while. Angelo and Carter hadn't been able to see or hear anything. And as far as Nick knew, seeing the dead might be something that wore off over time. The farther he walked into the cemetery without seeing a single ghost, the more he began to worry his ability might be gone.

“Well?” Angie demanded as Nick circled the same group of headstones a second time.

“I told you it wasn't a sure thing.” Nick searched the graves for any flicker of movement.

“He's lying,” Tiffany said. “We can't trust them.”

Something rustled in the bushes to their left and the kids spun around. Dana picked up a stick and peered into the foliage. It was probably just a squirrel or bird. Ghosts didn't move bushes.

Nick was just getting ready to admit defeat when a familiar voice said, “Is that pastrami I smell?”

A round-faced man in an old-fashioned suit drifted out of the ground almost directly beneath Nick's feet.

“Alabaster!” Nick cried, relief flooding through him.

Angie and her friends looked around, confused, as Nick pulled the hot pastrami from his bag. He held out the sandwich and the ghost leaned over to inhale the spicy aroma. The last time Nick had been here, Alabaster Wellington confided that the thing he missed most was hot pastrami. As a ghost, he couldn't eat it. But that didn't stop him from smelling it if he tried hard enough.

“Merciful heavens,” the ghost moaned with delight. “Pastrami! It's been so long.”

Nick couldn't help smiling at the spirit's obvious pleasure. “I ordered it with spicy mustard and extra pickles.”

“You, my friend, are a saint,” Alabaster said.

“What's he doing?” Angie asked.

Carter rubbed his hands up and down his arms as though trying to warm himself. “Nick can talk to ghosts.”

“Is this supposed to be funny?” Angie's lips tightened. “Did you bring us here as some kind of joke?”

“It's not a joke,” Angelo said.

Another spirit materialized. This one was tall and sad looking. He too was dressed in a suit, but his shoeless feet poked through a pair of shabby socks. “Stenson, look what I brought you.” Nick pulled his father's old dress shoes from the bag. The ghost had explained how he was buried without shoes, which meant that his toes were always cold.

“Oh-h-h.” The man's eyes opened wide and he almost smiled. “You remembered.”

“This is priceless,” Tiffany said. “You expect us to believe he's talking to a ghost with a thing for sub sandwiches and old shoes? You guys must be really desperate.”

“Not one ghost. Two,” Nick said, reaching inside the shoes and removing a pair of thick black socks.

Stenson choked back a sob and a long silver tear ran along a transparent cheek past his bushy mustache.

Tiffany pulled a brush through her hair. “I can't believe you thought we'd fall for this!”

“I understand how it looks,” Angelo said. “And I'm not surprised by your disbelief. But despite what you think, Nick is actually communicating with the undead. It seems to be a side effect of the fact that on Halloween he turned into, well . . . a zombie.”

Angie snorted. “Of course. Why didn't you say so? How could I not have realized that the three of you weren't wearing costumes at all? You actually
were
zombies. You aren't
desperate
. You're
crazy
.”

“Technically, Nick was the only one who turned into a zombie,” Carter said. “Which is kind of a rip-off if you ask me.”

Tiffany checked her reflection in a small mirror and put her brush back in her bag. “Let's go.”

Dana gave Angelo a disappointed look. “I expected more out of you.”

Stenson ran his hands lovingly over the shoes, although Nick knew the spirit couldn't actually feel them. For that matter, he wasn't sure how a ghost could have cold feet when he had no actual body. “Would you mind?” the spirit asked, gesturing toward a worn headstone.

Nick set the shoes on the grass in front of the stone. Slowly, as if by magic, the shoes and socks sunk into the grass, until they disappeared completely.

“All I can say is don't ever expect . . .” Angie's words dried up, her expression going from anger to confusion as the shoes lowered into the earth. “How did you do that?” she asked.

Dana went to the spot where the shoes had disappeared and tugged at the grass. She checked Nick's bag as if she thought he'd slipped the shoes back inside and shook her head. “They're gone.”

A moment later Stenson arose from his grave, his transparent feet now wearing a pair of transparent shoes.

“How do they fit?” Nick asked.

The ghost shifted his feet left and right admiringly. He brushed away a tear. “They're perfect.”

“It has to be some kind of trick.” Angie stared at the grass where the shoes had been. But there was no way to explain what had just happened. She turned to her friends, completely speechless for once. Dana and Tiffany seemed just as bewildered.

“No trick,” Angelo said sympathetically. “I wouldn't have believed it myself. But it's all true.”

Nick turned back to Alabaster Wellington, who appeared to be drooling a little. “Can you do the same thing if I put the sandwich on your grave?”

“Alas, no,” the spirit said with a sniff. “I fear the damp and worms would have a rather unsettling effect on the meat—turning an aroma of pure bliss into something more like a moldering foot. But I do thank you for your kindness. I shall return to my grave a happier man, dreaming of cured meat and crunchy pickles.”

“Wait!” Nick shouted as Alabaster began to fade away. Angie jumped at his voice.

“I . . .” Nick glanced over at his friends. Now that it was time to ask the questions they'd come here for, he wondered if it was going to be all for nothing. What if the ghosts hadn't seen anything? Or what if his asking offended them? “I was—I mean,
we
—were . . . wondering if you happened to see whoever broke into the cemetery the night before last?”

Alabaster scowled and Stenson made a pained face.

“Horrible, just horrible,” Alabaster said. “They desecrated the graves, leaving the spirits with nowhere to call home.”

“Three of them,” Stenson added. “The pale one and two un-men.”

“What did they say?” Angelo asked, his notebook ready. Carter moved back a step as if afraid of catching something from the invisible specters. The girls still looked suspicious, but even they were paying attention.

Nick held up a finger, in a
wait a minute
motion. “What do you mean,
un-men
?”

Both of the ghosts looked extremely uncomfortable. Stenson tugged at his mustache. “Living but not living. Neither here nor there.”

“Well?” Angie asked.

“They say there were three of them,” Nick said. “A pale guy and two men who aren't alive or dead.”

“What's that supposed to mean?” Tiffany said.

“Z-zombies?” Carter stuttered.

“Vampires?” Angelo asked, scribbling frantically.

The two ghosts looked at each other and shook their heads. “I don't think they know.” Creatures that even ghosts didn't recognize? The idea both thrilled and frightened him. And he didn't think he was alone. He actually thought the ghosts were scared too.

Angie stared at a spot a few feet in front of Nick, squinting as if she might be able to see the ghosts if she tried hard enough. “Where did they take the bodies? We need to track them down.”

Alabaster and Stenson both shook their heads at once with expressions it took Nick a moment to place. The spirits were not just frightened. They were terrified.

“You must
not
go after them,” Alabaster said. “The pale one is dangerous in the extreme!”

“Stay as far away as possible.” Stenson tugged at the ends of his mustache so hard Nick was afraid he might pull it right off. “There are things worse even than death.”

That night after dinner the five of them followed Angie to the back of the hospital. “Shouldn't we go around the front?” Carter asked, glancing at the gray metal doors dimly illuminated by a buzzing fluorescent light.

“Live bodies go through the front entrance,” Angie said. “Dead bodies enter here.”

Nick imagined zippered bags being rolled up the ramp in front of him, and his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth. “What exactly does your mother do?” he asked.

“She's a pathologist,” Angie said. “She performs autopsies.”

Angie's mom cut open dead bodies for a living. That explained a lot.

Carter pulled a Tootsie Pop from his jacket pocket and stuck it in his mouth. “Maybe we should just let the police handle this, huh, Nick?” he muttered around the candy. “You said those ghosts were pretty specific about staying away from whatever's going on here.”

“Go ahead,” Angie said. “Then we'll know for sure that you're all a bunch of cowards.”

Nick wasn't sure. The ghosts had freaked him out. And the idea of poking around a mortuary at night was more than a little frightening. On the other hand, what kind of monster hunters would they be if they backed out at the first sign of danger?

“It's not like whoever took the bodies is still around,” Dana said.

Angelo took a small metal box out of his backpack, attached a handle, and began fiddling with a pair of dials.