The Grim Spectre (5 page)

Bobby ran toward what was left of the café, against the tide of people running from it. Halfway down from where he was, he ducked into an alleyway, running far enough down it that with a curve between the two buildings walls, he was in a blind spot.

‘I’ve never done this in the daytime,’
he thought.

He touched the belt at his waist, and grasped the buckle. Instantly the plain black belt shimmered and then his clothes began to blur as well. Bobby Terrano was gone and in his place was the hooded Grim Spectre. His face, as always, was half hidden in the shadow of his hood, only the protruding lower portion of his skull mask showed.

He looked around carefully then floated upward eerily, his cape billowing behind him. He disappeared a quarter of the way to the top of the building.

‘Gotta remember to always tell the magic belt that I wanna be invisible durin’ the day,’
The Grim Spectre thought.

He touched down invisibly and lightly upon the roof and surveyed the scene below. Then he began to float skyward, flying slowly over the sidewalk, trying to trace the steps the fake cop had taken.

‘I wish this magic belt could track this guy,’
Bobby thought, half hoping it would at his command.

But there was no action from the belt, no tracking ability, nothing.

The Grim Spectre invisibly floated high up above the pandemonium filled street.

He continued to float away from the disaster searching, searching until two blocks away he saw exactly what he was looking for,
‘There! A cop heading in the wrong direction and he’s movin’ fast.’

Quickly arcing downward, the Grim Spectre invisibly and in broad daylight grasped the fake cop under his arms, instantly turning the man both invisible and intangible to everyone else, save himself, at his touch. He sped skyward again before the man could shout and dumped him unceremoniously upon the closest rooftop. The fake police officer rolled several feet painfully and came to a stop.

Slowly the man crawled first to his knees and then to his feet. He looked around the rooftop and saw nothing.

“W-what happened? H-how’d I get here?”

Then an eerie disembodied voice replied, “I brought you here, evil one. I saw what you did. You must be made to pay for your sins.”

The man looked around frantically, pulling a gun from his waist holster, “Who’s there? Show yourself!”

“Very well.”

Like a bad image suddenly growing sharp, with his cape floating behind him, The Grim Spectre slowly solidified into view. Without hesitation the gunman fired first two shots then another four, emptying his revolver. The bullets merely passed through the ethereal figure before him.

“W-what are you?” the gunman stammered.

“I am the spirit of revenge. I have come to exact that revenge against you for your horrible sins; most especially for the sins you have just committed,” the ghostly Grim Spectre replied. He floated above the rooftop and pointed menacingly at the fake police officer, “You will tell me why you killed those innocents below. You will tell me who hired you, and you will tell me now, or you
will
suffer my great and terrible wrath.”

The man backed away from the Grim Spectre, stuttering, “I-I ain’t tellin’ you nothin’ you damned ghost.”

The Grim Spectre advanced quickly on the man, his outstretched right hand began to crackle with energy and he said, “Murderer! Villain! You will tell me what I ask or you will suffer for all eternity!”

The murderer threw his gun at the Grim Spectre who merely let it pass through him harmlessly.

Then he floated quickly toward his enemy, who was still backing away from him.

“N-no! Stay back you damned ghost!”

“Stop!” The Grim Spectre roared.

But it was too late, for with one final misstep, the mad bomber stepped backward over the edge of the roof and immediately fell from sight!

“No!” shouted the Grim Spectre as he threw himself after the falling man.

But it was too late, the Spectre watched helplessly as the man fell to his death far faster than the Grim Spectre’s ability to reach him.

Disgustedly The Grim Spectre turned and floated skyward, turning invisible once more as he disappeared overhead.

Below a figure hidden in shadow nodded silently to himself acknowledging The Grim Spectre’s disappearance overhead. Then he turned and disappeared himself but more mundanely, into the crowded street, walking away from the crowd that had gathered around the crushed and broken body of the bomber.

***

That night, Joey DeLuca stood outside a bar on the Warf, flipping a coin and drinking a beer near the entrance to the bar, when a ghostly figure stepped out of a nearby wall behind the man and said, “Joey DeLuca, I seek information from you.”

DeLuca almost jumped into the water at the sound of the terrible, ghastly voice.

He turned and faced the ghastly visage that floated behind him, “Geeze man, don’t do that. You scared the life outta me,” DeLuca cried.

“That is most appropriate I believe, Joey DeLuca. You will tell me who murdered the patrons of a café that exploded today. Who ordered that foul deed done? Who ordered the deaths of innocents?”

“I-I don’t know man, I-I’ll find out though, I promise.”

The Grim Spectre extended his right arm and pointed at DeLuca, and then said, “Heed my words Joseph DeLuca, if you do not do this thing I ask of you, there will be hell to pay.”

DeLuca shook his head, obviously frightened by the skull faced figure before him, then replied, “R-relax man or ghost or whatever you are. I toldja I’d help ya out, an’ I will. Meet me at my place tomorrow night an’ I’ll have whatever info I can find for ya, I promise ya.”

“You had better, DeLuca. There is a great evil in this city and it calls to me to be expunged.”

Looking away, DeLuca swallowed hard and said “I don’t even know what ‘expunged’ means.” But when he turned back The Grim Spectre was gone without a trace, as if he was never there.

DeLuca entered the bar again and murmured, “I need another drink, an’ a strong one.”

The door closed behind him.

“Didja see this?” Tammy Thomas shoved the newspaper in front of Bobby Terrano the moment he walked up to her desk in the office of the Riverburgh Gazette.

“Uh, not yet Tamm, what is it?” Bobby looked at the paper and his eyes went wide in recognition. It was a photo from the street of The Grim Spectre staring over the edge of the rooftop the false police officer had fallen from.

“Holy cow! What the heck is that, Tamm?”

“What does it look like, Bobby? It’s The Grim Spectre; he’s some kind of ghost, or a guy made up to look like one, and he pushed that fake cop we saw to his death.”

“Well, if he’s a ghost, Tammy, how can he push anyone?” Bobby asked with a slight grin.

“Then it’s not a ghost an’ it must be some guy.”

“Whatever it is, how do you know it pushed him? And where’d this photo come from anyway?” Bobby asked.

“A guy had a camera with him. He was photographing birds in the park when he saw the fake cop disappear from the street. A minute later he was falling from the roof and The Grim Spectre was staring after him. He kept takin’ pictures of the roof waitin’ to see somethin’, and he did. He saw that ghost kill a guy, who he thought was a cop. Turns out the cop who owned that uniform ended up dead yesterday. They found his body floatin’ in the river.” Tammy said.

“Okay but did this guy see the Grim Spectre shove the fake cop, and probably a murdering cop killer too, over the edge?”

“No, but what else could have happened?” Tammy spat back.

“Maybe the guy got scared and fell over the edge?” he offered matter of factly.

“Why are you protectin’ this Grim Spectre ghost?” she asked.

“Watch it Tamm, you’ve been contracting your words since I got in here. People are gonna forget you’re the edumacated dame you act like you are,” Bobby said with a grin.

“Aaah shut up you. Did you even look at the by-line on the article?” Tammy questioned.

Bobby picked up the paper off the desk once again and looked, then began to grin, “Your first cover story! Baby, you did it!”

“She did, Bobby, and I couldn’t be more proud of her,” a voice from behind them both interrupted.

Bobby turned and saw George Kowalski walking up behind them. He was as unkempt as usual, his white dress shirt was out of his pants and his belly was hanging over his belt. But for all his disheveled look George was a top notch newspaperman, and that’s what counted.

“Hey George, how are you doing?” Bobby asked with a smile.

“All right kid, how about yourself?”

“I’ve been better. I’m sure Tammy told you, the place I regularly played at burned down the other night. Now I have to hunt up another gig.”

“Kid, you’re the best trumpet player in the city, I’m sure it’s going to be easy for you. Everyone knows Bobby Terrano,” the big man finished with a shrug.

“I’ve been looking, George, and so far the only places that want me all belong to Phylo Zeus; and I’d really rather not be in his pocket.”

“Sometimes in life we don’t have a choice,” George replied, “things could be worse, Kid, you could’ve ended up being an editor in chief for a newspaper and have to deal with lollygaggers like Miss Thomas here,” George nodded toward Tammy, who shot him a faux annoyed glance in return.

“That’s true George, thing’s could’ve been a lot worse, now that I think about it. But I’m still going to continue to look around a bit before I take Zeus up on his offer. There has to be a club somewhere in this town that’s not under his heel.”

“Good luck finding it, Kid. When you do, let me know. That man is cornering the market on entertainment in this town, and I’m afraid it’s not the only thing he’s getting his hands into.”

“What have you heard, George?”

“Nothing concrete, Bobby. But rumors are coming in that the docks are now under his control, as in nothing gets in or out without paying a fee to him. That and the usual stuff, gambling, prostitution, drugs, you know the drill. Anything bad and profitable these gangster types go for. It’s a vicious cycle. One gets caught and put away, another one appears and takes his place and the new one is always worse than the old one he replaced. More ruthless, more brutal. That’s one thing we can say about ol’ Phylo, he may be a crook, but as far as crooks go, he ain’t that bad.”

“I’m not followin’,” Bobby said curiously.

“Phylo Zeus is no angel, but there’s no murders or beatings ordered by him, at least as we can find evidence for. He’s more interested in the city running a certain way that profits him. He rewards success and doesn’t punish those that screw up, at least not so far as we can see. It’s more like he tells his thugs to wise up and follow some other guys example who does the job right. Those that continue to fail he cuts loose and forces them out of town. No one has any evidence that he killed any of his own men. Those that do the right thing by him, he rewards handsomely, or so we’re told”

“What about gangsters from other organizations?” Bobby asked.

“That I’m sure he’s been involved with. He may have some crazy ethical code, but he’s still a crook. The cops have found some bodies over the years. Most have been found floating in the river face down.”

“Yeah, he’s a sweetheart all right,” Tammy interjected.

“No, Tammy, he’s definitely not. But what could take his place in the vacuum he’d leave behind could be far worse,” George answered.

“But you think I should work for this guy anyway, George?” Bobby questioned.

“Only if you need the money, Kid. Look, chances are this guy told every other club owner in the city to keep their hands off of you so you’ll only work for him. What Phylo Zeus wants, Phylo Zeus gets,” George added with a shrug.

“Let me ask you something, George, what do you think of the Mayor? Do you think he’s a good guy?”

George shook his head slightly and said, “So far he hasn’t done anything I would term as corrupt, or bad for the city, why do you ask?”

“I don’t know George, it may be nothin’, but someone told me he owned the building that burned down where O’Malley’s was in. The same guy told me that it’s not the first building of his to burn down recently too. Any thoughts?”

“I think I may have to assign someone to do a little investigating on our beloved mayor; but a word of advice, Bobby, keep anything else you may have heard to yourself until we can check this out. If the mayor is a bad guy it may be dangerous to talk about this stuff, with anyone. Understand?”

Bobby nodded then said, “I gotta think about all of this,”

He leaned over and kissed Tammy lightly on the cheek, “See you tonight?” he asked.

“Only if I don’t see you first,” Tammy replied.

Bobby stood and started heading toward the door at the end of the busy newspaper office, “Seeya later George, thanks for all the info,” Bobby called back over his shoulder.

“You’re welcome, Bobby. Take it easy,” the portly man replied.

***

Bobby exited the newspaper building after a quick elevator ride to the lobby and walked out onto the sidewalk, then turned and headed toward his apartment.

‘I’m not liking this all one bit,’
he thought,
‘I may be forced into working for the
city’s
biggest crook, and not only that, but it’s a guy The Grim Spectre should be concerned about taking down. Only now, at least according to George, whoever comes up to fill the void left by Zeus is going to be worse than he is, and Zeus is a greasy snake. I just don’t get it,”
Bobby mused.

Bobby looked up and without realizing it, he had walked back past what was left of the building O’Malley’s used to be in.

Bobby stopped and looked at the burned out husk for a moment.

‘Wow, this place was more than just an old building to me. I never realized how many memories I had in here. Good memories. My first gig was here. I mean I played in a hundred other places over the years, but this is the one I always considered almost as home. It’s-‘

“It’s hard to believe, ain’t it?” a familiar voice asked at Bobby’s right shoulder.

Bobby turned and saw Mr. O’Malley himself standing there looking at the old building.

“Yes it is, Mr. O’Malley. I’m shocked, I gotta tell ya,” Bobby replied.

O’Malley shook his head and sighed, “I guess everything’s gotta end, Bobby, even this.” The old man poked at the debris with a burned pool cue he had found in the wreckage.

“What are you going to do now, Sir?” Bobby asked.

O’Malley chuckled slightly before answering, then said, “What can I do, Bobby? This is over for me. All over. I can’t recover from this. Every penny I had was sunk into this place. Insurance ain’t gonna cover diddly here. No, Bobby, I’m finished in this town. I think I’ll move down to DC where my sister an’ her family live. I can always get a job tendin’ bar down there if I have to. No one knows me there and I can start fresh.”

“Do you really want to do that, Sir? I mean you must have been here your entire life.”

“I was, Bobby. But sometimes it’s just time to move on. A body can only take so much before it all becomes too much. You’ll understand what I mean someday.”

The old man turned and began to walk away.

“You take care of yourself, Bobby. You were always a good kid and the best damned horn player I ever seen.”

“Wait!” Bobby shouted. He ran after the frail old man and extended his hand, “I-I don’t know if we’ll ever see each other again, Mr. O’Malley. If this is good bye we have to shake hands. You were like a second father to me. I can’t just let you walk off like that. That ain’t no proper good-bye.”

The old man took Bobby’s hand in his own and shook it wearily, “There, better now, Bobby? Take care of yourself. I’ll miss ya, Kid.”

The old man turned and disappeared into the crowd walking along the sidewalk.

“I’ll miss you too, Mr. O’Malley,” Bobby almost whispered.

Then Bobby turned back toward the burned out building and he angrily thought of the people who had lived there, as well as O’Malley himself.

His fists at his side shook almost uncontrollably in rage and he thought, ‘
Someone’s gonna pay for this.’

Then he turned and headed toward his apartment, to await the darkness to fall.