The Ghost of Halloween Past (Paperback)

The Ghost of Halloween Past

Chapter 1

The shouting woke him. Max opened his eyes. Someone was in the house. Reluctant to leave his hiding place under the bed, he remained still, listening: male voices. It sounded like two men arguing—loudly. Who are they, and why are they in the house?

A single gunshot silenced the men. Max flinched. All was quiet. He lifted his head and glanced around. From the corner of his eye, he spied a cockroach scurrying across the dusty wood floor. There were too many cockroaches in this house; it was difficult to keep up with them all. Then he heard it again: more shouting. But this time it was a different voice. Is that Harvey yelling?

Inching out from his place beneath the bed, Max peeked under the hem of the tattered and soiled bedspread. Aside from the double bed, the only furniture in the bedroom was a vintage oak dresser, its varnish worn and faded, layered in dust. The cracked mirror, attached to the dresser by just one bolt, hung lopsided, on the verge of falling to the floor. Dim lighting came from the bulb of the small lamp sitting atop the dresser. It flickered, periodically going out.

The shouting continued. It sounded as if it was coming from downstairs. Who is Harvey yelling at? There was only one way to find out; Max needed to investigate.

He made his way out from under the bed. Creeping into the dark hallway, keeping low to the floor, he headed toward the staircase. Peering through the railing, he could see Harvey’s silhouette standing below in the darkened entry hall. There was a man with him. A man Max did not recognize. The overhead light flickered on for just a moment. It provided just enough light for Max to notice the body lying on the floor—facedown—at Harvey’s feet.

“Answer me! I asked you a question!” Harvey shouted.

The man standing next to Harvey stood mute, incapable of speech, staring down at the motionless body.

“I asked who are you?” Harvey demanded.

“Bart Haston. I’m Bart Haston,” the man finally managed to stammer. “This is all a mistake.”

“Where’s the gun?” Harvey glanced around the room. There was no gun in sight.

“I don’t know.” Bart shook his head.

Max expected the man to start crying.

“I heard the gunshot. And look…” Harvey pointed to the dead man’s back. “This is obviously where the bullet went in. So there has to be a gun. What did you do with it?”

“I didn’t do anything with it, I promise. I don’t know what happened. But I didn’t shoot anyone!” Bart insisted.

Harvey knelt by the body and started to roll it over.

Bart reached out, trying to stop him. “Wait! Should you do that?”

“Do what?” He looked up and scowled. “I don’t think I’m going to hurt him any more than he already is.”

“Shouldn’t we call the police or something?”

“Police? Are you sure you want to do that?”

“I don’t know. What should I do?” Restless, Bart combed his fingers through his hair. He started to pace back and forth in front of Harvey, who continued to kneel by the body.

Shaking his head in disgust, Harvey roughly turned the corpse over. He paused a moment and stared at the dead man’s face. He then looked up at Bart.

Bart stopped pacing and looked down. “What do we do?”

“I’ll take care of the body, but you need to get out of here.”

“I have to leave? But where should I go?” Bart asked.

“I don’t care where you go. You just can’t stay here. Go. Get out of here, and I’ll get rid of this. Just don’t come back. I mean it!”

Max watched as the man who called himself Bart Haston ran from the house, fleeing into the dark night, while Harvey dragged the body from the entry toward the door leading to the basement. From his hiding place, Max could no longer see Harvey, but he could hear the squeaky hinges of the basement door as it opened, and then he heard the thumping sound of the body as it roughly made its way down the wooden stairs.

Wanting a closer look at the dead man, Max crept stealthily down the stairs. He paused when he reached the first-floor landing, thinking better of the idea. What if Harvey locked him in the room again? While Max had no aversion to small dark places, he didn’t want to be trapped without access to food or water. He wouldn’t have survived this long without exercising some degree of caution. Harvey was unpredictable: ally one moment, nemesis the next. Before Max could make up his mind on how to proceed, Harvey returned from the basement, slamming the door shut behind him.

I guess that settles that, Max thought, preparing to slink back upstairs.

“There you are,” Harvey said when he spied Max by the stairs. “You could have helped me, you know.”

Sitting down on a step, Max silently watched.

Harvey sat next to him. “What am I thinking of? When have you ever been of any help?”

Max closed his eyes for a moment, waiting for him to go off on the same old tangent. Harvey had been searching since the day they had met, and he continued to search. Sometimes he blamed Max for not finding it. Yet Max could tell he had other things on his mind right now, namely a corpse in the basement.

“The body is going to start smelling. But I imagine that’s going to bother you more than me.” He smiled at Max. “That old trunk down there was going to waste. The body fit inside nicely, but it took a little convincing.” Harvey laughed. “Folded him up like a pretzel. Of course, once rigor sets in…well, I wouldn’t want to be the one to have to unwrap that package.”

Max looked away and stared across the room.

“Don’t look so smug. It’s not like I shot the guy, and I’ve seen how you deal with some of the dead bodies you drag in here. At least I didn’t dismember the guy like you did the last one.”

Max looked back to Harvey with lazy eyes. He blinked several times and yawned.

“I suppose it was best you stayed upstairs during the commotion. You might have gotten yourself shot. And then, what good would that do me?”

Max stood up and started to go back up the stairs.

“Hey, where are you going?” Harvey stood up and watched Max make his slow way up to the second floor.

“Fine, go hide under the bed. All you do is sleep anyway!” Harvey called out.

When Max reached the second-floor landing, he paused and silently looked down at Harvey, who had turned his back to him and started walking back to the door leading to the basement. Even the threat of being locked in a room hadn’t completely dampened Max’s curiosity. He wanted to get a closer look at the dead guy.

* * *
Harvey stood over the trunk, its lid open. The overhead light flickered on.

“I bet you had no idea you’d be spending the night in a trunk in the basement of this old boarded-up house,” Harvey said aloud. “How did you manage to get yourself shot? Is someone going to be looking for you?”

Hands on hips, he glanced around the basement, trying to decide what to do next.

“I can’t really leave you down here. It isn’t just the smell, but he could come back looking for you, and then I might never get rid of him. And frankly, I don’t need anyone else hanging around here. I have less than two weeks to find it, and I can’t do it if I have to deal with him.

He scratched his head and considered his options. “Maybe I should leave you for those meddlesome kids to find.” He laughed at the idea and then slammed the trunk’s lid shut.

Max stood in the shadows by the open basement door and silently watched. Maybe Harvey would be gone after Halloween, but Max hadn’t planned to go anywhere. Yet now he might have to. How could he stay? It was one thing putting up with the teenagers who threw rocks at the windows on Halloween night or made dares to see who was brave enough to sneak into the house, and once inside they would run wild down the dark corridors while Max hid in one of his many hiding places. But he couldn’t stay if the police showed up, asking questions and poking through every room—every nook and hidey-hole. If they found him, which they might, they would take him, as they had before, and lock him up.

Not wanting Harvey to notice he had been spying on him, Max hurried back up the stairs from the basement, treading lightly. When he reached the entry, he noticed the front door was ajar. Seizing his opportunity, Max slipped out of the house and into the dark night.

Keeping in the shadows, he started down the street, searching for a new hiding place. If he didn’t find one by sunrise, he would have to go back. Maybe he could convince Harvey to move the dead body somewhere else—in the ocean perhaps, it was only a few blocks away. Although, he doubted that would be possible.

Making his way down the street, he noticed it was trash night. When was the last time I had something to eat? Finding food suddenly became his number one priority. It proved to be his lucky night. In the first trash can, he found a partially eaten chicken breast sitting atop the garbage. Looking around nervously, afraid something might jump out at him from the darkness, he looked back in the can and snatched the piece of chicken. Certain there was some monster in the night, prepared to pounce and steal his prize, Max ran down the street with the piece of chicken, looking for a safe place to savor his meal.

He found temporary shelter amongst the shrubbery between two houses. Ravenous, he used his teeth to rip every last bite of meat from its bone. When he finished, he left the evidence of his meal under the bush and continued on his hunt.

Max had been wandering for over an hour when he came to a three-storied house, if one included the attic. Its dormer windows faced west. A row of homes separated it from the beach and Pacific Ocean. He approached the house and discovered someone had failed to shut the front gate. Glancing around, making sure no one was watching, Max slipped through the gate and made his way to one of the windows in the front of the house.

The window was open, yet it had a screen, preventing him from getting inside. However, it did make it possible for him to hear whoever was just inside the window. By the voices, he surmised it was at least two women. Careful not to make any sound, Max peeked in the window. He had been right—there were two women.

“Are you going to be up much longer?” one of the women asked. She stood by the door leading to the hallway. Or at least, Max assumed it led to the hallway.

“Not much longer. But I’d like to finish this book. I only have a couple more chapters,” said the woman who lounged on the sofa with a book in her hands.

“Well, I’m going to head up to bed. After moving all my stuff back upstairs, I’m exhausted.”

“Night, Lily.”

“Night, Dani. See you in the morning.”

The woman called Lily left the room. Max focused his attention on the remaining woman—Dani? Was that what her friend had called her?

Max sat quietly in the darkness, watching the woman. She continued to read, periodically turning the pages of the book. The room was well lit; he could clearly see her face.

I like the way she looks, Max thought. Yes, I like it very much.