tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35126955031795917312024-02-06T17:53:36.206-08:00REVENGE OF THE MASKED GHOSTAn action adventure mystery novel in the style of the Pulps of the 1930s and the old time radio shows.
Become a friend of the Masked Ghost as he haunts the city to keep us all from becoming ghosts!Kevin Paul Shaw Brodenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13987862091955836517noreply@blogger.comBlogger29125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3512695503179591731.post-25624032848608997602013-09-30T12:28:00.001-07:002013-09-30T12:29:53.767-07:00Black FedoraThe Masked Ghost wears a Black Fedora as he haunts the streets of Manhattan in his quest for justice, but many feel him to a criminal, a villain.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKxDea0ewRTCcn-dH4sxGOvdB-XYWWnRxTttwyskivl8TjiNSj2d4IJTE_DUK570zYSncaRtyAJi0EP18ji6Bgd-1T7RN9vkRhaTG4ITos8Cd3IFyDkAeJlCFTCUt7G_ZuDPtt1XcBHmFF/s1600/BlackFedora_Cover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKxDea0ewRTCcn-dH4sxGOvdB-XYWWnRxTttwyskivl8TjiNSj2d4IJTE_DUK570zYSncaRtyAJi0EP18ji6Bgd-1T7RN9vkRhaTG4ITos8Cd3IFyDkAeJlCFTCUt7G_ZuDPtt1XcBHmFF/s320/BlackFedora_Cover.jpg" width="199" /></a></div>
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<br />
Read tales of villains in the anthology <a href="http://amzn.com/1492829102" target="_blank">BLACK FEDORA</a> including "The Man Who Stole Manhattan" by Kevin Paul Shaw Broden the author of "Revenge of the Masked Ghost."<br />
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Available in paperback and Kindle.<br />
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<br />Kevin Paul Shaw Brodenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13987862091955836517noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3512695503179591731.post-54048173152861922942013-04-22T21:06:00.000-07:002013-04-22T21:06:24.612-07:00Over Two Years of Haunting the Mask!
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I can't believe it has been over two and half years since the
Masked Ghost began to haunt my imagination.</div>
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<br /></div>
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The day the ghostly voices began to whisper in my ear. The
voices weren't of the pulp style hero himself, but of his family. In my head
they told me that they were shocked to discover that their family member was
actually a vigilante running through the streets of city. They had heard of the
masked man that people had called a ghost, but they didn't even have a clue
that he was related to them.</div>
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<br /></div>
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Then the voices spoke to me again. "He's dead."</div>
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<br /></div>
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They now told me that they had discovered his horrific secret
when he died at their feet.</div>
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<br /></div>
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And that's when they told me they wanted their story told.</div>
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<br /></div>
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I listened to those voices and quickly made pages of notes
about who they were and who the masked hero was. At the same time I was
building a ghastly skeleton of a story outline.</div>
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<br /></div>
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All I really knew there at the beginning was that The Masked
Ghost was dead and that The Masked Ghost had to live to haunt the evil of the
city.</div>
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<br /></div>
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I just needed to figure out how to follow him.</div>
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<br /></div>
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Those who've been with me since the being will remember the
first few chapter of "Revenge of the Masked Ghost" appeared on my own
facebook page. Then I transferred it over here to blogger.</div>
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<br /></div>
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Now over two years later, the Masked Ghost has survived and
the haunting voices of his family continue to whisper to me that there are more
ghost stories to be told.</div>
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<br /></div>
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Do you want to read them? Are you ready to be haunted once
more?</div>
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<br /></div>
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I am.</div>
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<br /></div>
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Kevin Paul Shaw Broden</div>
Kevin Paul Shaw Brodenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13987862091955836517noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3512695503179591731.post-91213604979710009342012-07-08T16:19:00.000-07:002012-07-08T16:19:25.260-07:00Get the whole story for half price.If you're still visiting this site to find out what's happening to Margaret Randolph and her family, don't worry there are more stories to be told in the future.<br />
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In the meantime, here's a reminder that I have released the entire story in an ebook novel format, which includes an all new back up story staring the Scarlet Spirit.<br />
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And right now in the middle of July, 2012, you can get the book at half price. Visit my <a href="http://bit.ly/ysJ0Om" target="_blank">Smashwords Author page</a> and select "Revenge of the Masked Ghost" then enter the coupon code: SSW50 when you purchase it.<br />
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Thanks for all your support and telling all your trench coat wearing, pulp loving, friends about the book.<br />
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The Masked Ghost will have his Revenge!<br />
Kevin Paul Shaw Brodenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13987862091955836517noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3512695503179591731.post-54300354095736259872011-07-12T08:41:00.000-07:002011-07-12T08:43:35.267-07:00Chapter 25 – “The End for a Ghost”<style> <!-- /* Font Definitions */ @font-face {font-family:Times; panose-1:2 0 5 0 0 0 0 0 0 0; mso-font-charset:0; mso-generic-font-family:auto; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:3 0 0 0 1 0;} @font-face {font-family:"MS 明朝"; panose-1:0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0; mso-font-charset:128; mso-generic-font-family:roman; mso-font-format:other; mso-font-pitch:fixed; mso-font-signature:1 134676480 16 0 131072 0;} @font-face {font-family:"MS 明朝"; panose-1:0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0; mso-font-charset:128; mso-generic-font-family:roman; mso-font-format:other; mso-font-pitch:fixed; mso-font-signature:1 134676480 16 0 131072 0;} @font-face {font-family:Cambria; panose-1:2 4 5 3 5 4 6 3 2 4; mso-font-charset:0; mso-generic-font-family:auto; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:-536870145 1073743103 0 0 415 0;} /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-unhide:no; mso-style-qformat:yes; mso-style-parent:""; margin:0in; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size:10.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family:Times;} .MsoChpDefault {mso-style-type:export-only; mso-default-props:yes; font-size:10.0pt; mso-ansi-font-size:10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size:10.0pt; font-family:Cambria; mso-ascii-font-family:Cambria; mso-fareast-font-family:"MS 明朝"; mso-hansi-font-family:Cambria;} @page WordSection1 {size:8.5in 11.0in; margin:1.0in 1.25in 1.0in 1.25in; mso-header-margin:.5in; mso-footer-margin:.5in; mso-paper-source:0;} div.WordSection1 {page:WordSection1;} --> </style> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:center" align="center">REVENGE OF THE MASKED GHOST</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:center" align="center">by Kevin Paul Shaw Broden</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:center" align="center"><span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>(Copyright 2011 Kevin Paul Shaw Broden)</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:center" align="center"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:center" align="center">Chapter 25 – “The End for a Ghost”</p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal">Donald Raymond was hanging up the phone when his wife entered their penthouse apartment. Margaret laid a large garment bag and hatbox on the chair in the entranceway. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">The woman loves to shop</i>, her husband thought.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal">She turned to give her husband a kiss.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal">“We have guests,” Donald stopped her before it became more than a smooch.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal">“Oh, hello,” she said, entering the living room to find a couple sitting on the couch. Both looked tired, nervous, and somewhat scared. It was Mr. and Mrs. Brewster.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal">Margaret took a seat across from them and tried to hold a pleasant smile. Here were the people that blamed her brother for the death of their daughter. Even though she knew the truth, she wasn’t certain how she felt for them. Mr. Brewster didn’t look so old as he had days earlier when she helped him escape Spade’s warehouse building moments before it exploded.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal">“That was police detective Monroe on the phone,” Donald said as he sat next to her.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal">“He wanted to let us to know that city inspectors are going over every construction site where Spade might have had explosives implanted. So far they’ve come across six, but are having no trouble removing them.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal">“Thank God,” Mr. Brewster said and put his head in his hands.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal">“The hardest problem they’re having is keeping it all a secret. No need terrifying the rest of the city. Monroe also says they aren’t finding evidences that would connect you to Spade or his criminal plans.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal">“Haven’t yet?” Brewster’s wife asked nervously.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal">“No, I think he said ‘aren’t’ and I believe he’s making certain nothing will be found to be connected to your husband.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal">The woman narrowed her eyes at that.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal">“Pardon me,” Margaret spoke up, “but I have to ask, what got you involved with such a terrible man?”</p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal">“My husband is a good man,” the woman was insulted.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal">“Quiet dear. She needs to know what caused all this to happen.” Brewster finally looked up at the others.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal">“I met Spade through some business associates of mine. Guess it was over two years, now. Suggested that Imports would be a good investment. But it soon turned out not to be, but by then I had invested so much that it was hard to get back out without loosing it all.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal">“So I went to Spade and said I was pulling out my investment, he blackmailed me by telling me exactly what his company had been doing. That if I stopped funding his agenda he would let it be publically known that I was funding a criminal organization. That I was the money behind their crimes, that even though I had never known it, the police and the press would claim my hands were as stained as the rest of his organization.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal">“How did Sheila get involved,” Donald asked.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal">“It wasn’t long before Spade began inviting himself into the rest of my life. Even coming over for dinners. That way there would be clear evidence I had a relationship with the criminal if it ever became public. He was intent of keeping me in his grasp, and my money would keep flowing.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal">“Both my wife and daughter realized something wasn’t right with our now frequent visitor.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal">“We could tell that he was upset ever time Spade would show up,” Mrs. Brewster interjected, “But he told me to let it be and everything would be fine.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal">“My wife was willing to remain quiet, but Sheila wasn’t. She didn’t like this man invading our lives. Against my instructions she began investigating him. She got close to discovering the truth a couple of times. I was so happy when your brother Adrian showed up and asked her to marry him; perhaps then she’d stop trying to learn more about Spade. But no, she kept at it. Then one evening when Spade was at the house, she confronted him with what she knew. He simply laughed at her and said ‘what’s for dinner’. A week later, she was dead.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal">He lowered his head for a moment, and then looked up at Margaret.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal">“We should have never blamed Adrian for her death, but we were terrified of what would happened if the police were involved. Spade had already introduced us to Dodds, so we had no idea who to trust. It took a visit from the Masked Ghost for me to realize that.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal">They were all looking at him when said that.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal">“Can you forgive us?”</p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal">Margaret didn’t really know how to respond, and then finally spoke.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal">“I think I would have liked Sheila. Sounds like she really fought for her family. Hope I would do the same, just like Adrian.” She gave them a smile.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal">“I’m so sorry to hear about what happened to your brother,” Mrs. Brewster said, “did that really happened because of us as well?”</p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal">Her husband shifted in his seat, but said nothing.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal">“Well, the police seem to be slowly investigating that as well,” Donald answered, “though some believe he was killed by the Masked Ghost. Don’t know how they got that idea,” he glanced at Margaret who shrugged apologetically, “but it’s at least a story that no one will be able to prove or disprove. Because that vigilante is gone for good.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal">Still feeling uncomfortable, the Brewsters eventually excused themselves. Margaret tried to be as kind to them as she could, “Please, if there’s anything you need, don’t hesitated to call,” though part of her prayed they would never call.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal">“I need a drink,” Donald said after the door was closed. As he headed into the other room, Margaret picked up her shopping and carried it into the bedroom</p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal">After mixing himself a drink Donald walked through the house and found himself staring at the French doors of their penthouse balcony. It was a warm evening, without a cloud in the sky. He wasn’t looking at the weather, but at the doors themselves. How long had it been since that stormy night when the wind blew them open and changed their lives forever?</p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal">“What do you think,” Margaret spoke a few minutes later when she entered the room.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal">He took a sip of his drink and turned towards his wife to see what the latest evening gown was she had purchased.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal">Donald was stunned and didn’t know what to say. Margaret posed before him in a long, yet fitted, red trench coat and a matching wide brimmed hat.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal">“It’s nice,” he fails at giving her a compliment, “but they aren’t expecting rain for the rest of the month.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal">“It’s not for the rain, silly. Don’t you think this goes much better with that scarlet mask?”</p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal">It took him a second to catch on.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal">“No!<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>No way. The Masked Ghost is gone. I’m not doing that again, and neither are you. It’s over!”</p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal">“What about all those people the Masked Ghost helped?”</p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal">“That was Adrian. He was able to help them, we can’t.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal">“But there are others that need the same time to help.” She pulled off the hat.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal">“I said no!” He turned and walked away.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal">Margaret felt hurt; she took off the coat and laid it on the couch along with the hat. She wanted to do something to remember her brother, to keep all his work alive.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal">Eventually she took a firmer stance and spoke again.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:center" align="center">“<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal">This city is protected</i>”</p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal">Donald froze in his steps at the sound of the Masked Ghost’s whispery voice. He thought Margaret and the others were back at the taxi when he gave his little melodramatic speech to Spade in the guard shack. He had hoped it would scare the villain from doing such a thing in the future. He didn’t intend to keep running around in a mask, had he?</p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal">His shoulders slumped and he looked down at the tile floor where he had spent hours scrubbing away the bloodstains.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal">Finally, Donald spoke, but couldn’t look at her.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal">“I promised your father, I promised your brother that I would protect you.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal">Margaret moved around him.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal">“When did you promise Adrian?”</p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal">He didn’t have an answer for her. Couldn’t tell his wife that her dead brother had visited him in a dream and made him promise to look after her. In the same dream Adrian seemed intent that Donald would remain the Masked Ghost. It was only a dream. His head was getting beaten in after all. Yet, was his subconscious telling him something? Was he supposed to be the Masked Ghost? He didn’t want to be the vigilante. No one should want to do the type of thing.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal">“It’s wrong and far too dangerous. We’re not talking about this again!” He dropped into his chair and snatched up the evening newspaper as if to create a barrier between them.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal">Margaret wanted to yell at him, but couldn’t. In a huff she sat on the couch across from. She stared at him, as if she could burn holes through the paper. It felt oddly familiar, like a night only days ago, as she scanned the headlines of the paper he held up to ignore her.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal">The Masked Ghost had all but vanished from the papers now. The terrible fire at the import house on the side of the river was now a small story at the bottom of the page. The main stories were about Roosevelt’s attempt at economic recovery and how others were opposing him.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal">There was also one other story.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal">Above the fold was a headline that read: </p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:center" align="center">‘CRACKERS’ CASTELLA RELEASED.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal">The story told of how the police had a ‘lack of evidence’ in the death of one of Mr. Castella’s ‘business rivals.’</p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal">“Hey, wasn’t that man’s name in Adrian’s notes?” Margaret said aloud, “Yes, I remember now. Once he knew Castella wasn’t involved in Sheila’s death he put the name aside to investigate later.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal">Donald tried to ignore his wife, but curiosity finally won and he turned the paper around to read the story she had indicated.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Margaret was right, ‘Crackers’ Castella had been listed in… in the Masked Ghost files.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal">The news story left little doubt of the crime. The victim’s skull had been crushed like a handful of crackers. Which was Castella’s trademark. However, the gangster was either good at covering his tracks, had some very well paid lawyers to get him off, or there was police officers on his pay role. After what the Raymonds had just been through, that was very likely.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal">He stared at the paper for a couple of minutes more, not really reading, then looked up at his wife. She was sitting on the edge of her seat, very anxious, but not saying anything.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>He knew what she was thinking, because he had the same thoughts, and it scared him.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal">Donald slowly folded up the newspaper and laid it on the side table, his drink long ignored. Decisively, he stood up.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal">“Margaret,” he said sternly.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal">“Yes, dear?” She joined him.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><br />“Get your coat.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal">In the next edition of the newspaper, the Masked Ghost was once again steeling the headlines, as was his beautiful and allusive companion, the Scarlet Spirit.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:center" align="center">Only the beginning.</p>Kevin Paul Shaw Brodenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13987862091955836517noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3512695503179591731.post-64220532481277167042011-06-28T21:07:00.000-07:002011-07-05T21:04:17.660-07:00Chapter 24 - "Funeral For A Ghost"<style> <!-- /* Font Definitions */ @font-face {font-family:Times; panose-1:2 0 5 0 0 0 0 0 0 0; mso-font-charset:0; mso-generic-font-family:auto; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:3 0 0 0 1 0;} @font-face {font-family:"Cambria Math"; panose-1:2 4 5 3 5 4 6 3 2 4; mso-font-charset:0; mso-generic-font-family:auto; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:-536870145 1107305727 0 0 415 0;} /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-unhide:no; mso-style-qformat:yes; mso-style-parent:""; margin:0in; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size:10.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family:Times;} p.MsoBodyTextIndent, li.MsoBodyTextIndent, div.MsoBodyTextIndent {mso-style-unhide:no; mso-style-link:"Body Text Indent Char"; margin-top:0in; margin-right:0in; margin-bottom:0in; margin-left:.5in; margin-bottom:.0001pt; text-align:center; line-height:200%; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size:10.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family:Times; font-style:italic; mso-bidi-font-style:normal;} span.BodyTextIndentChar {mso-style-name:"Body Text Indent Char"; mso-style-unhide:no; mso-style-locked:yes; mso-style-link:"Body Text Indent"; mso-ansi-font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-ascii-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family:"Times New Roman"; font-style:italic; mso-bidi-font-style:normal;} .MsoChpDefault {mso-style-type:export-only; mso-default-props:yes; font-size:10.0pt; mso-ansi-font-size:10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size:10.0pt; font-family:Times; mso-ascii-font-family:Times; mso-fareast-font-family:Times; mso-hansi-font-family:Times;} @page WordSection1 {size:8.5in 11.0in; margin:1.0in 1.0in 1.0in 1.0in; mso-header-margin:.5in; mso-footer-margin:.5in; mso-paper-source:0;} div.WordSection1 {page:WordSection1;} --> </style> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:center" align="center">REVENGE OF THE MASKED GHOST</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:center" align="center">by Kevin Paul Shaw Broden</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:center" align="center"><span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>(Copyright 2011 Kevin Paul Shaw Broden)</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:center" align="center"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:center" align="center">Chapter 24 – “Funeral For A Ghost”</p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>Margaret Raymond was screaming, and she couldn’t stop.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>Only seconds before she had witnessed the warehouse of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal">Spade Imports and Exports</i> explode in a massive ball of fire. Inside was her husband Donald dressed as the Masked Ghost.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>Days ago her brother Adrian had been killed while wearing the costume of the vigilante and now Donald.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>She started running towards the burning warehouse. Cabbie and the police detective Monroe grabbed hold of her and pulled her away.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>“Wow, girl, you’ll get yourself killed.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>“Sorry, there’s nothing we can do for him now.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>Brewster just stood off to the side, unable to do anything for anyone.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>Margaret glared at them in anger and struggled to get loose. She was nearly free when the remaining front wall of the warehouse burst into flames and collapsed towards them.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>They all dove into the guard shake for cover. Miraculously the little box withstood the blast. As the smoke cleared, they stepped out and looked at the burning remains of the building.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>That’s when they saw it.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>Something moved among the flames. A dark shape grew and became a figure. A ghost emerged from the burning wreckage: The Masked Ghost.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>He struggled to climb through the debris while dragging the unconscious body of Spade behind him.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>“Donald!” Margaret ran forward wanting to throw loving arms around him. But he held up a hand to stop her as he dropped Spade in a relatively safe place and than pulled off his still burning overcoat. Once that was tossed aside he took his wife into his arms and kissed her. It was a kiss neither wanted to end. They were alive, and at that moment nothing else in the world matter.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>When they finally broke apart, but not letting go, they found one of the other masked men kneeling over Spade’s body.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>“He’s still alive,” Detective Monroe said, quite surprised, “What happened to Dodds?” The guy was a traitor to his uniform, but he was still a fellow cop.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>“He was pretty messed up, and started shooting wild. I had just gotten the fat man to cover when one of his bullets struck just the right crate and everything went up,” Donald paused for a moment and then turned to the others.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>“None of you ran back in after I gave orders to stay out.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>“No, why?” They all shook their heads in the negative.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>“Nothing I guess,” Donald turned back to the burning building and wondered exactly what happened in there. From there he looked down at the bodies of Spade and his hitman.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>After a moment he turned back to the others with resolve.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:center;line-height:200%" align="center">#<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>#<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>#</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>SLAP!</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>Spade awoke to find himself tied up. Next to him, his hitman remained asleep. He didn’t even know the man’s name; he did the job he was paid to do.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>They were inside the grungy guard shack; through the door he could see the smoldering remains of the warehouse, of his company.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:center;line-height:200%" align="center"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">“Look! See the <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal">ghost</b> that is all you built with your evil and greed.”</i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>The Masked Ghost stood over him. In this light there was no way of knowing which of the masked men it was. Sirens wailed in the distance.</p> <p class="MsoBodyTextIndent" style="text-align:justify">“The police will be here soon. You are being left for them. They won’t like finding the body of one of their own. If you survive them I’d suggest you get out of New York and never come back.”</p> <p class="MsoBodyTextIndent">“This city is protected!”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:center;line-height:200%" align="center">#<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>#<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>#</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>Two days later there was a funeral for Adrian Brown.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>Margaret oversaw a lot of the preparations so her mother wouldn’t have to, but at the service the woman was very strong. She broke into tear over the loss of her son, but she showed great strength for her family. However, it was Margaret who became the backbone for the family as her father remained cold and distant. You could see it in his eyes; the son is not supposed to die before the father.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>Dozens of people showed up at the church and at the cemetery. Family members, friends, fellow writers, and editors; even a few publishers who had printed his stories. As horrific as it was, his books were selling more now as people learned that the author had died so tragically. There were even a few ‘celebrities’ whom Adrian had interviewed in the past paid their respects.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>Donald had even noticed that Mr. and Mrs. Brewster stood a distance away from the gravesite. They couldn’t bring themselves to approach the mourning family, not after what they had accused Adrian of. Plus Brewster knew the truth, even if his mind hadn’t solidified the idea yet. Donald would have to talk with him later.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>“Raymond,” Margaret’s father came up to him when the graveside service had concluded.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>“Yes, sir,” Donald said. He kept an eye on Margaret with her mother as they talking with others who began to disperse and head for their cars.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>“I expect you in the office Monday morning.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>Donald was stunned that his father-in-law would think of work at a time like this, but it was so much like him. Holding in all that emotion.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>“Of course, sir,” he replied. He’d be at work as requested, just to prove his commitment to the company and the family.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>“You need to be strong, Raymond,” the older man sounded harsh, but then his voice broke, “I need you to be strong, Donald,” he never called him by his first name.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>Donald remained silent.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>“I need you to be strong. Be strong for Margaret,” suddenly he was breaking and was doing his best not to cry, “be strong for her. She’s all we have now. Promise me you will protect her.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>“I will, sir. I promised Adrian I would, and I promise you. I will do everything I can to see that Margaret is safe.”<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>He had never seen the old man emotional, and this was the closest he’d ever get. It was a shocking sight, but he would never see it as a weakness.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>That night Cabbie drove Donald and Margaret back to Adrian’s neighborhood, a pub less than a block away from his apartment.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>The bar was full of people, nearly as many as those who were at the cemetery. Most of these people didn’t know Adrian Brown or anything about his family. As Margaret and Donald would find out, these people only knew the Masked Ghost. In one-way or another, he had saved them all.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>One by one, or couples, or small families, they all approached the Raymond’s and told them what the Masked Ghost had done for them.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>A Jewelry story owner who had been robbed of thousands of dollars worth of diamonds, told how the next morning the gems were back where they belonged and the thief tied up out front waiting for the police.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>A woman with a little girl, holding her hand tightly, told of how the mystery man had run into their burning apartment and rescued her three-year-old daughter before the firemen would arrive.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>A man said that he had been distraught after loosing his job, and attempted suicide, but the Masked Ghosted dragged him from the rapids of the river beneath the bridge. The man now had a new, better job.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>The people kept coming, each new story as heroic as the last.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>Margaret couldn’t hold back her tears as she saw just how many people her brother had helped, even if wearing a mask, in only one year.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>When the last person came up to them, and the last story was told, the party (for that was what it was, a wake for the dead,) ended and the crowd headed out into the street. Each going their own way into the darkness of the city.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>The bartender was cleaning the last mug (he himself had been saved from a protection racket who wanted him to pay for just having his store open) as Cabbie escorted Donald and Margaret back out to his taxi.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>Before they got in, Margaret spoke, “Cabbie, I have to ask, what did Adrian… I mean the Masked Ghost do for you? How did he ‘save’ you?”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>The driver was silent for several moments. Margaret glanced at her husband.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>“I’m sorry. You don’t have to say anything,” she said as they climbed into the car.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>“That’s okay,” he started the engine, “the Masked Ghost save me from killing my wife.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>The Raymond’s were stunned silent.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>After a few minutes the taxi reached a stop sign and Cabbie turned in his seat and looked back at Donald.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>“Where to now, boss?”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:center;line-height:200%" align="center">To be concluded…</p>Kevin Paul Shaw Brodenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13987862091955836517noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3512695503179591731.post-60413190356674535942011-06-14T20:33:00.000-07:002011-07-05T20:44:27.891-07:00Chapter 23 - "A Ghost Goes to War"<style> <!-- /* Font Definitions */ @font-face {font-family:Times; panose-1:2 0 5 0 0 0 0 0 0 0; mso-font-charset:0; mso-generic-font-family:auto; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:3 0 0 0 1 0;} @font-face {font-family:"Cambria Math"; panose-1:2 4 5 3 5 4 6 3 2 4; mso-font-charset:0; mso-generic-font-family:auto; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:-536870145 1107305727 0 0 415 0;} /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-unhide:no; mso-style-qformat:yes; mso-style-parent:""; margin:0in; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size:10.0pt; font-family:Times; mso-fareast-font-family:Times; mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-no-proof:yes;} .MsoChpDefault {mso-style-type:export-only; mso-default-props:yes; font-size:10.0pt; mso-ansi-font-size:10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size:10.0pt; font-family:Times; mso-ascii-font-family:Times; mso-fareast-font-family:Times; mso-hansi-font-family:Times;} @page WordSection1 {size:8.5in 11.0in; margin:1.0in 1.0in 1.0in 1.0in; mso-header-margin:.5in; mso-footer-margin:.5in; mso-paper-source:0;} div.WordSection1 {page:WordSection1;} --> </style> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:center" align="center">REVENGE OF THE MASKED GHOST</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:center" align="center">Chapter 23</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:center" align="center">“A Ghost Goes to War”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:center" align="center">(Copyright 2011 Kevin Paul Shaw Broden)</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:center" align="center">by Kevin Paul Shaw Broden</p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>“Come on, Mr. Brewster, run!” Margaret Raymond grabbed the man’s arm and pulled him away from the fight. She experienced the same problem her husband did with the mask; her peripheral vision was slightly blocked as she searched for an exit from the warehouse. Once found, Margaret dragged the older, distraught, man outside.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>Halfway across the yard Brewster’s legs gave out from under him and he fell to the ground. Tears began to flow. The terror of the night had gotten to him.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>“We have to get out of here,” Margaret said, feeling small inside her brother’s costume.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>He looked up at her with confusion, “I thought the Ghost was…”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>She could see it in his eyes, he had known the Masked Ghost was her brother, but Adrian was now dead and four other people were running around in the costume.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>Margaret knelt in front of him, and pulled off the hat and mask, “Look. Everything is going to be okay. But we have to move--”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>“Sheila?” He said in confusion, looking into the face he saw as his own daughter, “I’m so sorry. There wasn’t anything I could do to stop them. I tried. You shouldn’t have screamed at Spade. I’m so sorry. So sorry.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>Margaret felt for him as he thought of his dead daughter. He wasn’t going to move any further, so she held him and looked back towards the warehouse as gunshots echoed and she prayed none would strike her husband.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>That was when she heard a crunch of gravel behind her. Slowly looking over her should, she found a tall man in black pointing a gun at her. His face bloody from a beating the Masked Ghost had given him less than an hour before. Margaret didn’t need to know this was the man who had killed the accountant and attacked her husband. She did know he would not hesitate to kill them both.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:center;line-height:200%" align="center">=<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>=<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>=</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>Chaos ensued with in the warehouse. As the three masked men pursued the criminals between the crates of explosives, the echoes of their footsteps and their shouts made it sounds like an army had invaded the building.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>Donald Raymond didn’t like to fight, but had done so in the past. As a kid he got into many scraps with the neighborhood bullies, and later, on the construction sites, fought off those who would threaten his men. He didn’t always win, but none of those battles had ever involved gunfire.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>His fist struck one of the guards, who went down after multiple poundings. That’s when the guns got involved. Donald turned to find Detective Dodds’ revolver pointed at his head.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>“You should have left it alone, Raymond,” the detective cursed at the man under the mask, “my job was nearly over. Working for Shade would just guarantee a quite retirement with a little extra money. You’re destroying all that.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>Donald had no response as the trigger of the revolver was pulled back.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>CRACK!</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>Dodds fell to the floor with a thud.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>Donald looked around to find another Masked Ghost holding a large plank of wood now broken from where it had struck the back of Dodd’s head.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>“There you go boss.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>“Uh, thanks.” Donald said and then smiled, as he now knew whom this Masked Ghost was. That accent was unmistakable. But he still had no idea who the other one was. The one who was quite ready to use his guns.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>“No guns!” He shouted across the warehouse, he ran towards the third Masked Ghost and Cabbie followed in his own mask.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>“These men wouldn’t hesitate to use their own,” said the other Masked Ghost as Donald tried to figure out who it was, “your brother wasn’t opposed to the use of weapons.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>That disturbed Donald, but he couldn’t waste time on it now, “I’m here in this mask now, and I say no guns. Besides, there’s so much explosives in this place that one stray bullet could send us all to hell!”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>The other Ghost seemed to think that was a good argument and put his weapons away, then gave a thin secretive smile which told Donald that he was Monroe, the police detective from Adrian’s crime scene. He wasn’t certain what to think about a police officer that condone the vigilante actions of the Masked Ghost, or one who loved using his guns so freely.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>But Donald didn’t have time to dwell on that as he spotted the remaining guard. Moving cat like over a couple of crates and he leapt down on the guard. Slammed into the floor, the guard was no longer a threat.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>Looking up at his two masked companions Donald gave an order, “Get out of here now, and make certain Margaret is safe. I’m going after Spade.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>“You’ll need backup,” Monroe said from behind his own mask. Both men looked eager to continue this fight.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>“I said go!<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Now!” The Masked Ghost leapt to his feet.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>Cabbie nodded and gave a smile that recognized that Donald was finally taking to the part of the Masked Ghost well. He then pulled on his partner’s sleeve and nodded towards the exit. No more arguments were made.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;tab-stops:.5in center 3.25in"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>As they made their escape, the Masked Ghost headed further into the darken pathways between the massive crates.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;tab-stops:.5in center 3.25in"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>Coming around a corner, he found Spade moving about as if lost, with a panicked express on his fat face.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:center;line-height:200%; tab-stops:67.5pt" align="center"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">“Trapped with in your own maze.”</i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;tab-stops:-63.0pt"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>The Masked Ghost spoke as he approached the crime boss.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:center;line-height:200%; tab-stops:-63.0pt" align="center"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">“The ghosts of this city will not let you destroy it.”</i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;tab-stops:-63.0pt"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>“Stay away from me,” Spade shouted, scared for the first time in his sorry life.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;tab-stops:-63.0pt"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>The Masked Ghost leapt forward and grabbed hold of the man.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;tab-stops:-63.0pt"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>Donald had intended to drag him out of here, but now the Masked Ghost was ready to pummel the fat man for everything he had done. For the poor accountant, for Sheila who had stood up for her father, for Adrian who sought justice, and for Margaret—</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;tab-stops:-63.0pt"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>Wait. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal">Why for Margaret?</i> His wife was safe outside. She wouldn’t want him to do this. Donald’s <span style="mso-no-proof:no">conscious</span> regained control, this was wrong. The delay in his actions was enough to turn the tide.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;tab-stops:-63.0pt"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>“Raymond!”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;tab-stops:-63.0pt"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>Dodds was moving down the corridor, stumbling against the crates, one hand on his head where he had been struck, and the other outstretched with the revolver wavering at the Masked Ghost.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;tab-stops:-63.0pt"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>Believing help had arrived, Spade pushed The Masked Ghost away and towards the oncoming instrument of death.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;tab-stops:-63.0pt"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>“You are going to die and stay dead, if it’s the last thing I do,” Dodds said.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;tab-stops:-63.0pt"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>Donald could see how woozy the detective looked, his eyes weren’t focusing. The blow to the head obviously had caused a concussion.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;tab-stops:-63.0pt"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>There wasn’t anywhere for the Masked Ghost to run, so Donald was going to see this to the end.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:center;line-height:200%; tab-stops:-63.0pt" align="center"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">“You can not kill the ghost that is your guilt.”</i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;tab-stops:-63.0pt"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>He watched Dodds stumble and pause, eyes flickered one way and then the next and then upward as if spotting something.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;tab-stops:-63.0pt"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>“You won’t trick me again, Raymond,” the Detective said, “another masked man isn’t going to stop me from killing you.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;tab-stops:-63.0pt"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>He raised the revolved from Donald up towards the top of the crates.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;tab-stops:-63.0pt"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>Donald glanced upward wondering if Cabbie or Monroe had disobeyed him and returned, he also prayed it wasn’t Margaret. There was no one up there.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;tab-stops:-63.0pt"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>“Come down here and die like a man,” Dodds shouted and swung his gun wildly towards the other side of the corridor. The action nearly caused him to loose his balance.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;tab-stops:-63.0pt"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>Donald took the only opportunity he was going to get and dove at Dodds. As he struck, the detective fired and the shot went wild. The sound echoed through out the warehouse as the bullet struck one of the hanging lamps overhead. It caused shadows to dance about around them.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;tab-stops:-63.0pt"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>Dodds kicked to get away from the Masked Ghost, but then one of the shadows moved and he fired into it. What he saw, Donald could only imagine.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;tab-stops:-63.0pt"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>“Why won’t you stay dead!” The Detective shouted at the shadows.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;tab-stops:-63.0pt"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>“Stop you fool, you’re going to kill us all!” Spade shouted.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;tab-stops:-63.0pt"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>Donald had to agree with the villain as another shot rang out.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;tab-stops:-63.0pt"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>“Move!” He shouted and pushed Spade into a side corridor as another bullet struck one of the crates.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:center;line-height:200%; tab-stops:-63.0pt" align="center">=<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>=<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>=</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;tab-stops:-63.0pt"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>Cabbie and Monroe made their way out to the yard and saw a body laying on the ground. The night was dark and made it hard to see until they got closer. Both their thoughts were of Donald’s final command to protect Margaret.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;tab-stops:-63.0pt"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>Cautiously, they approached and knelt.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;tab-stops:-63.0pt"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>“It’s a man.” Monroe said as he examined the body, “and he’s alive. Though just barely.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;tab-stops:-63.0pt"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>“I… I didn’t want to hurt him.” They looked up to see Margaret in her costume stepping from the guard shack. “But had to do something.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;tab-stops:-63.0pt"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>“Never saw anything like it.” Brewster said following her, his head finally clear, “she disarmed and had him down on the ground so fast, I didn’t know what was happening.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;tab-stops:-63.0pt"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>“Where’s Donald,” Margaret asked with panic.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;tab-stops:-63.0pt"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>“He’ll be out soon,” Monroe said, removing his mask.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;tab-stops:-63.0pt"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>“The Masked Ghost has some unfinished business to--” Cabbie’s words were cut off as the entire warehouse exploded into flames.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;tab-stops:-63.0pt"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>Margaret Raymond screamed!</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:center;line-height:200%; tab-stops:-63.0pt" align="center">To Be Continued…</p>Kevin Paul Shaw Brodenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13987862091955836517noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3512695503179591731.post-56391111824355556732011-05-31T20:20:00.000-07:002011-07-05T20:23:17.468-07:00Chapter 22 - "To Rescue A Ghost"<style> <!-- /* Font Definitions */ @font-face {font-family:Times; panose-1:2 0 5 0 0 0 0 0 0 0; mso-font-charset:0; mso-generic-font-family:auto; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:3 0 0 0 1 0;} @font-face {font-family:"Cambria Math"; panose-1:2 4 5 3 5 4 6 3 2 4; mso-font-charset:0; mso-generic-font-family:auto; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:3 0 0 0 1 0;} /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-unhide:no; mso-style-qformat:yes; mso-style-parent:""; margin:0in; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size:10.0pt; font-family:Times; mso-fareast-font-family:Times; mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-no-proof:yes;} p.MsoBodyText, li.MsoBodyText, div.MsoBodyText {mso-style-unhide:no; mso-style-link:"Body Text Char"; margin:0in; margin-bottom:.0001pt; line-height:200%; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size:10.0pt; font-family:Times; mso-fareast-font-family:Times; mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman"; font-style:italic; mso-bidi-font-style:normal; mso-no-proof:yes;} span.BodyTextChar {mso-style-name:"Body Text Char"; mso-style-unhide:no; mso-style-locked:yes; mso-style-link:"Body Text"; mso-ansi-font-size:12.0pt; font-style:italic; mso-bidi-font-style:normal; mso-no-proof:yes;} .MsoChpDefault {mso-style-type:export-only; mso-default-props:yes; font-size:10.0pt; mso-ansi-font-size:10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size:10.0pt; font-family:Times; mso-ascii-font-family:Times; mso-fareast-font-family:Times; mso-hansi-font-family:Times;} @page WordSection1 {size:8.5in 11.0in; margin:1.0in 1.0in 1.0in 1.0in; mso-header-margin:.5in; mso-footer-margin:.5in; mso-paper-source:0;} div.WordSection1 {page:WordSection1;} --> </style> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:center" align="center">REVENGE OF THE MASKED GHOST</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:center" align="center">Chapter 22</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:center" align="center">“To Rescue A Ghost”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:center" align="center">(Copyright 2011 Kevin Paul Shaw Broden)</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:center" align="center">by Kevin Paul Shaw Broden</p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in;line-height:200%">Donald Raymond couldn’t believe his eyes, and for a second thought he was still unconscious and dreaming of his dead brother-in-law. Far across the warehouse, in the fringe of the light, stood The Masked Ghost. He appeared shorter, but there wasn’t time to think of anything more when the masked man moved again and spoke.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:center;line-height:200%" align="center"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">“No ghost shall die this night, unless you seek to join him.”</i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>It was the same gravelly whisper that Donald had used earlier, but just enough of a higher pitch that he knew at once who was wearing the mask. He chocked back a gasp so not to alert the others. But too late, one of the thug’s pulled out his gun and fired towards the Masked Ghost. The masked man had already dived behind the wooden crates as the bullet strook and splinters flew in all direction.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>“Don’t shoot, you bafoon!” Spade shouted at his own man, “Do you want us all to die!”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>Donald glanced up at him. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">That was an interesting statement.</i> But there was no time to explore it. He had to act, and dropped back into his own whisper voice.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:center;line-height:200%" align="center"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">“The Ghost is everywhere, Spade. You have not captured me.”</i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>It was enough to distract them, as he hoped the other Masked Ghost would get far enough away from their guns.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>“Shut up!” Spade growled at him, then at the others. “Go after him! Kill him, but do it away from the crates!”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>The two thugs grunted at him and, with guns at the ready, ran off between the crates and vanished into the dark.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>Spade put a hand on each arm of the chair and leaned into Donald’s face. “Your stupid theatrics will not stop me from controlling all of Manhattan. If they will not bow to me, then they can see their city burn.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>Donald didn’t wait to act. He slung his head forward smashing it into Spade who jumped up in pain, but not fast enough to avoid a pair of knees making contact with his groin. Spade let out a child like scream and tumbled backwards, but it also cause Donald’s chair to fall away. In this position he was helpless.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>Dodds, that traitorous and murdering police officer, caught hold of his criminal boss.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>“Let’s get out of here Mr. Spade. The boys can handle these fools,” he said while guiding Spade away from the chaos.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>“No, no, just give me a moment. I want to see them die,” but Dodds already pushing the fat man through an inner door.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>Once they were out of site, Donald turned towards the man who remained staining there. Brewster was frozen in fear; he didn’t know what to do or what to make of any of it.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>“This is all my fault,” he kept mumbling.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>“Mr. Brewster, pay attention,” Donald said from the floor, “snap out of it man. Get me up and untied.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>“You promised me this would all be over,” Brewster looked at him.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>“I don’t know what the Masked Ghost promised you, but I’m not him. Get me up and we’ll figure this all out once we’re safe.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>They could hear movement coming from all over the darkened warehouse. Shout’s like ‘There he is.’ Donald tried not to laugh.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>Finally Brewster knelt and lifted the chair up and dragged it backwards.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>“What are you doing? Untie me!” But Brewster kept dragging him and around some of the crates, hoping to get away from the killers.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>Brewster was terrified, but as long as he concentrated on getting Donald into hiding he was doing okay. Donald tried to understand the poor man; he must have begun to loose control when his daughter was killed, to then be haunted by a strange mask-wearing ghost.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>Suddenly Donald was falling, his head hit the floor again, and Brewster was screaming. </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>“Hey, what happened?” He craned his neck to see what was going on.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in;line-height:200%">Brewster was shaking and staring at the second Masked Ghost who had stepped out of a shadow to join them.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>“That really doesn’t help us stay hidden,” Donald said.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>“Sorry,” Margaret said as from beneath her mask. She then knelt and lifted the chair that held her husband. He looked at Brewster, now slumped to the floor in terror; the man would be of no use to them now.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>“I want to scream too,” Donald said as she untied him, “What the hell are you doing here? You could have been shot!”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>“Saving your life here, if you hadn’t noticed,” Margaret pulled the last cord of rope away from his legs.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>Exasperated, but finally free, Donald couldn’t argue with her. Getting to his feet, he wanted to hug his wife, but didn’t. There’d be time for that later; if they got out of here.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>He turned from her and began examining the crates next to them.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>“Now, what’s so important about what Spade’s been ‘importing’?”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>“Wait,” he read the shipping labels glued to the side, “these are meant to go to Nikolas’ construction site.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>“You’re friend’s site, why? What’s in them?”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>Donald wanted to know that as well. He took hold of a corner of the wood and pulled. After a little effort, it splinted and came away to reveal the contents.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>“Damn!” There were grey green metal boxes inside. Each marked with an insignia that left no doubt of their contents.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>“It’s full of explosives,” he looked around and realized that every single one of these crates was a bomb just waiting for a fuse.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in;line-height:200%">Donald took another look at Brewster who was just shivering.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in;line-height:200%">“The first chance you get, get him out of here.” He ordered his wife. Somehow the mask on her face didn’t seem at all odd right now.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in;line-height:200%">The sound of a gun’s trigger being set came loudly in Donald’s ear. He slowly turned a degree to find Dodd’s standing close with his gun even closer.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in;line-height:200%">“Don’t move,” the detective said.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>“So you’ve discovered my little treasure, Mr. Raymond.” Spade said approaching, the two thugs appeared and blocked their only means of escape, “Now you know the power I will hold over this city. Too bad you won’t be able to do anything about it.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>The two people dressed as the Masked Ghost, protecting Brewster between them, were slowly escorted back into the open area of the warehouse away from the crates of explosive.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>“Now I get to watch you die. All your obsession with my plans only brought you death.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>Donald hated that ugly smirk on the man with the cottonmouth voice, and he hated the gleam in Dodd’s eye even more. The man really wanted to kill as much as he had killed Adrian before them.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in;line-height:200%">His anger at this man nearly prevented him from noticing something, but when he did everything changed.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>“Well, you may kill me, Mr. Spade,” Donald bent over and picked up his hat and put it on, “but you need to realize something. The Masked Ghost is not the haunting obsession of one man.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>Proudly he put the mask back on, and spoke once more with the whisper voice of the Masked Ghost:</p> <p class="MsoBodyText" style="text-align:center" align="center">“For I am the ghost of an entire city that has been murdered by men like you,</p> <p class="MsoBodyText" style="text-align:center" align="center">and ghosts of those who refuse to be killed.</p> <p class="MsoBodyText" style="text-align:center" align="center">For I am LEGION!”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%">At which point two more MASKED GHOSTS leapt from the shadows. One of them is armed.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:center;line-height:200%" align="center">To Be Continued…</p>Kevin Paul Shaw Brodenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13987862091955836517noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3512695503179591731.post-77025969842016198122011-05-17T17:55:00.000-07:002011-07-05T20:03:08.458-07:00Chapter 21 - "A Ghost For A Ghost"<style> <!-- /* Font Definitions */ @font-face {font-family:Arial; panose-1:2 11 6 4 2 2 2 2 2 4; mso-font-charset:0; mso-generic-font-family:auto; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:-536859905 -1073711037 9 0 511 0;} @font-face {font-family:"Cambria Math"; panose-1:2 4 5 3 5 4 6 3 2 4; mso-font-charset:0; mso-generic-font-family:auto; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:3 0 0 0 1 0;} @font-face {font-family:Cambria; panose-1:2 4 5 3 5 4 6 3 2 4; mso-font-charset:0; mso-generic-font-family:auto; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:-536870145 1073743103 0 0 415 0;} /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-unhide:no; mso-style-qformat:yes; mso-style-parent:""; margin-top:0in; margin-right:0in; margin-bottom:10.0pt; margin-left:0in; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size:10.0pt; font-family:Arial; mso-fareast-font-family:Cambria; mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-no-proof:yes;} .MsoChpDefault {mso-style-type:export-only; mso-default-props:yes; font-size:10.0pt; mso-ansi-font-size:10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size:10.0pt; font-family:Cambria; mso-ascii-font-family:Cambria; mso-fareast-font-family:Cambria; mso-hansi-font-family:Cambria;} @page WordSection1 {size:8.5in 11.0in; margin:1.0in 1.0in .7in 1.0in; mso-header-margin:.5in; mso-footer-margin:40.3pt; mso-paper-source:0;} div.WordSection1 {page:WordSection1;} --> </style> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt; text-align:center" align="center">REVENGE OF THE MASKED GHOST</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt; text-align:center" align="center">Chapter 21</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt; text-align:center" align="center">“A Ghost for a Ghost”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt; text-align:center" align="center">(Copyright 2011 Kevin Paul Shaw Broden)</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt; text-align:center" align="center">by Kevin Paul Shaw Broden</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt; text-align:center" align="center"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>The darkness ebbed and flowed like a thick fog bank rolling over a vast shore.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>“Hi, buddy.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>“Adrian?”</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>Standing in front of Donald Raymond was his brother-in-law Adrian Brown, dressed in the suit, hat, trench coat, and mask of The Masked Ghost.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>“But… but you’re dead.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>“Ya, I know.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>“Does that mean I’m dead?” Donald asked.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>“Don’t think so, Donny. You’ve got too much left to do yet.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>“Then I must be dreaming.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>“Looks that way,” Adrian said, his bright smile fading from his face, “I’m really sorry for everything I’ve piled onto you and Maggy.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>“I can’t say that I’m all that happy for being thrust into all this danger, but I know Margaret wants me to find out who killed you.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>“Thank you. That’s why I chose you to become the Masked Ghost.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>“Oh, no. When this is over with, the Masked Ghost will go away forever.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>“Being dead, I won’t argue, but you’re wrong. Whatever happens, Donald, promise me you will look after Maggy.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>“You don’t have ask, I’ll die to protect her.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>“I know you will,” Adrian said, “as I know she would do the same for you.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>SMACK!</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>“What was that?” Donald asked, surprised.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>“It’s time for you to wake up.” Adrian said and faded into the fog and darkness.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:center" align="center"># # #</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>SMACK! The Masked Ghost’s head flung to the right as the massive hand struck his face for the third and forth time. SMACK!</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>“Wake up, bastard!”</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>His vision cleared. Donald hurt all over as he looked about. The Masked Ghost was tied to a chair in a massive room filled with large shipping crates. He surmised that it was the warehouse building he had seen while exploring the grounds of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">Spade Import & Exports</i>.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>He was not alone. Along with the muscular thug who got a sick enjoyment out of hitting him, there were five others that he could see. Beyond them, the rest of the building fell into darkness.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>“Enough of that!” A pudgy looking man with a pot marked face and swollen cheeks gave the order, “He’s obviously awake now.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>“Whatever you want, Mr. Spade.” The thug stepped away.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>“So this is the man that has been giving me no end of trouble for the last year?” It sounded like he was talking through a mouthful of cotton.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>Donald didn’t know what to say? What would Adrian’s have said? What did the Masked Ghost sound like? He didn’t know, so just adlibbed the best he could and forcing his throat to make a horse whisper.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:center" align="center"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal">“The wicked will forever be haunted by their deeds.”</i></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>The man looked down at the masked vigilante who didn’t appear to be any threat now tied to that chair. He began to laugh.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>“I don’t know who I should be more angry at, little man. You and your persistent annoyance,” he paused and then shouted at whole room, “or my own men who haven’t been able to swat an insignificant flee like yourself.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>“You promised!” One of the other men started shouting and ran at the Masked Ghost. One of the guards grabbed hold of him. The Masked Ghost recognized the man as the one that arrived in the touring car, and had a pretty good idea who it was. “You promised to stop them. You promised you’d pay them back for what they did to my little girl.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>It was Sheila Brewster’s father. After they wouldn’t speak any longer to the man they blamed for their daughter’s death, Adrian must have paid Brewster a visit as the Masked Ghost.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>“Oh, so you were trying to betray me,” Spade turned to strike Brewster.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>“Don’t hit him!” Donald shouted, not even attempting to create the voice of the Masked Ghost.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>Spade looked at his captive with quiet angry, “so this is how you found out about my plans to own this city. Ol’ ‘Pockets’ here spilled the beans like he freely spilled out the money for us?”</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>“Not so fast, boss,” police detective Dodds stepped forward. The man, who wore a shield of Justice, now hid no secrets as to was was his real master. “Before you kill him, and I’m all in favor of getting rid of this little vigilante, shouldn’t we find out exactly who he is?”</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>“I’d rather have him dead now and out of the way forever. That ugly mask can wrought with the rest of him.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>“And it will, but think for a moment. Both your men and my police have been hunting him for months now. There must be some way he’s been able to avoid us?”</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>Spade thought for a moment.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>“Alright, have your fun, Dodds.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>The crooked police detective, in the badly worn suit, turned towards the Masked Ghost.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>“You’ve been a thorn in my side for far too long.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>“With your size, how would you notice a thorn,” Donald tried to be flippant to cover up his own fear. He knew he was about to die.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>Dodd’s grabbed the side of his face, and yanked the crimson mask away.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>They all looked at him in startled wonder.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>“Who is that?”</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>“But… but I thought…” Brewster’s voice trailed off. He didn’t recognize Donald either.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>But Detective Dodds did recognized him, and a wide sinister grin formed on his ugly mug.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>“So you were simply misleading the police were you, Mr. Raymond?”</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>“Raymond? Who is this bastard, Dodds? If you knew something about him.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>“Oh, quiet down, Mr. Spade. I didn’t know anything about who the masked man was. That was the whole point wasn’t it, Raymond? You poured that blood all over your own penthouse, to make it look like the Masked Ghost had broken in, then escaped again just before my men arrive. Here I thought he was dead only half an hour earlier, but no. None of us would suspect a criminal vigilante was actually a millionaire playboy?”</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>“Hey, I’m no playboy. I’m a happily married man.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in">The detective slapped him hard across the face once more, “now let’s see how much blood you’ve got to spill.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>Brewster stood frozen to the spoke as he shook in fear as he watch the criminals move in to grab the Masked Ghost. There would be no more delays in killing him now.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in">Donald knew this was the end, and sent up a silent prayer as he thought of his wife Margaret.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>Suddenly the sound of a wind whistled between the crates, followed by the slamming of a heavy metal door.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:center" align="center"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal">“No one can kill a ghost!”</i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in">It was a whisper, like Donald had attempted earlier, and yet it echoed through the warehouse, as if from everywhere at once.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>Spade and his men turned in search of the invading voice.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in">Donald gasped as The Masked Ghost stepped out of the darkness.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:center;text-indent:.5in" align="center">To Be Continued…</p>Kevin Paul Shaw Brodenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13987862091955836517noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3512695503179591731.post-35817442780496979412011-05-03T20:33:00.000-07:002011-07-05T19:04:42.300-07:00Chapter 20 – “Help For A Ghost”<style> <!-- /* Font Definitions */ @font-face {font-family:Times; panose-1:2 0 5 0 0 0 0 0 0 0; mso-font-charset:0; mso-generic-font-family:auto; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:3 0 0 0 1 0;} @font-face {font-family:Times; panose-1:2 0 5 0 0 0 0 0 0 0; mso-font-charset:0; mso-generic-font-family:auto; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:3 0 0 0 1 0;} /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-unhide:no; mso-style-qformat:yes; mso-style-parent:""; margin:0in; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size:10.0pt; font-family:Times; mso-fareast-font-family:Times; mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-no-proof:yes;} p.MsoBodyTextIndent, li.MsoBodyTextIndent, div.MsoBodyTextIndent {mso-style-unhide:no; mso-style-link:"Body Text Indent Char"; margin:0in; margin-bottom:.0001pt; text-indent:.5in; line-height:200%; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size:10.0pt; font-family:Times; mso-fareast-font-family:Times; mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-no-proof:yes;} span.BodyTextIndentChar {mso-style-name:"Body Text Indent Char"; mso-style-unhide:no; mso-style-locked:yes; mso-style-link:"Body Text Indent"; mso-ansi-font-size:12.0pt; mso-no-proof:yes;} .MsoChpDefault {mso-style-type:export-only; mso-default-props:yes; font-size:10.0pt; mso-ansi-font-size:10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size:10.0pt; font-family:Times; mso-ascii-font-family:Times; mso-fareast-font-family:Times; mso-hansi-font-family:Times;} @page WordSection1 {size:8.5in 11.0in; margin:1.0in 1.0in 1.0in 1.0in; mso-header-margin:.5in; mso-footer-margin:.5in; mso-paper-source:0;} div.WordSection1 {page:WordSection1;} --> </style> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:center" align="center">REVENGE OF THE MASKED GHOST</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:center" align="center">by Kevin Paul Shaw Broden</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:center" align="center"><span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>(Copyright 2011 Kevin Paul Shaw Broden)</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:center" align="center"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:center" align="center">Chapter 20 – “Help For A Ghost”</p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>Margaret Raymond stepped off the train after visiting with her parents. Donald wasn’t waiting for her at the station; she hadn’t expected that he would be. She knew he had been busy all day; whether it was for an assignment at work which she had told her parents about, or off visiting an old friend which is what he had told her, or investigating her brother’s murder. She was certain that the later was what he was doing and it both terrified and gave her great hope.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>Desperate to talk with her husband, she road the subway to bring her closer to home. If what her father had said was truth, Sheila’s family may have been financially part of the corruption of the city’s construction industry.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>This was something Donald and she would need to talk about before doing anything else.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>The sun was just setting as Margaret reached the apartment. Just before turning into the building she noticed a now too familiar taxi parked across the street. Cabbie nodded and she could see his grim expression.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>Margaret’s face went pale as fear ran down her back. She rushed into the building and into the elevator needing to reach the penthouse as soon as possible.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>“Good evening Mrs. Raymond.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>“Oh, hello, Willy.” The boy who ran elevator briefly startled Margaret. His family was very poor, and standing in a metal box going up and down paid him a couple of dollars each day. He’d get a few tips from the tenants of the building. Willy didn’t have to ask where she wanted to go, and pulled cage door closed, and the little box moved upward towards the penthouse.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>He liked to chat, especially with the ladies of the building. But Margaret was in no mood, and if she didn’t know better she would have though he was slowing the lift down. But it was just her being anxious to see Donald, to know that he was okay.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>Once the little bell chimed and the gate opened, Margaret dashed for her apartment. Only half way there did she think to shout back, “Thank you, Willy.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>Margaret struggled at getting the key in the door, but once inside she started shouting.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>“Donald? Don, are you home?”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>No answer.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>She ran from room to room. No one was there.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>He was still out with his friend; she tried to convince herself, but knew that wasn’t true. Cabbie was parked outside, not taking fares, which meant the Masked Ghost had ordered him to look after her. But her brother was dead, so that meant…</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>She rushed to the bedroom knowing what she would find, or rather what she would not find.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>The old suitcase lay open upon the bed.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in;line-height:200%">The costume of The Masked Ghost was nowhere to be found.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in;line-height:200%">“Don.” She whispered to no one.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in;line-height:200%">She looked further about and found the box with all her brother’s notes spread out on the table. Lying right on top was a sheet of paper with an inked line circling an address.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in;line-height:200%">“Damn you Donald, what are you doing?”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in;line-height:200%">She paced back and forth for a moment, then stormed out the apartment.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in;line-height:200%">Margaret ran to the elevator, but before pressing the button, knew she didn’t want to talk with Willy about why she had run in and out so quickly. Turning she headed for the stairs. It would take a longer, but she had to get downstairs.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in;line-height:200%">It was a good thing she regularly ran between the stores, because she was winded by the time she burst out the front doors of the apartment building. She was nearly hit by a car while darting across the street.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in;line-height:200%">“Take me to the police!” Margaret shouted at Cabbie as she hopped into the taxi with a slam of the door.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in;line-height:200%">The car pulled away from the curb and made its way down the road. Margaret sat back and folded her arms, “not the local station. The precinct near my brother’s apartment, I’m certain you know the way.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:center;line-height:200%" align="center">+<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>+<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>+</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in;line-height:200%">“I’ll wait here,” Cabbie said as he parked the taxi out front the police station.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in;line-height:200%">“No! You’re coming with me,” Margaret ordered. He hesitated, but followed.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in;line-height:200%">Inside, approaching the Desk Sergeant, Margaret tried to hold some degree of decorum. “I would like to speak with Detective Monroe, please.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in;line-height:200%">The Desk Sergeant eyed the beautiful young woman and then suspiciously looked over at Cabbie. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">His kind don’t come in here with out cuffs on</i>.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in;line-height:200%">“What’s this about miss?”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in;line-height:200%">“It’s Mrs.! You may tell Detective Monroe that I’m here about my brother’s murder.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in;line-height:200%">That got his attention and turned to another officer, “Get Johnny-Boy out here.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in;line-height:200%">The officer headed into the back of the station with no effort to get there anytime soon.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in;line-height:200%">After several minutes passed, Margaret became impatient.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in;line-height:200%">“Will someone hurry up and help me,” she spoke loud enough for the entire station to here, “that vigilante The Masked Ghost killed my brother and you’re all sitting around like lazy bums!”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in;line-height:200%">That startled them, and shocked Cabbie.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in;line-height:200%">The Desk Sergeant leaned in towards her with threatening eyes, “what do you know of The Masked Ghost?”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in;line-height:200%">Margaret did her best to maintain eye contact with the man and show no fear, but knew it wouldn’t last.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in;line-height:200%">“That’s enough out of you O’Brien,” came a voice that broke the tension, “what good are you scaring witnesses, and distraught family members?”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in;line-height:200%">They turned to find Detective Monroe strolling up to the front of the station.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in;line-height:200%">“You wanted to see me Mrs. Raymond,” he gave her the most pleasant of smile, and then glanced briefly over at Cabbie.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in;line-height:200%">“Yes, indeed. Though I’m not certain your fellow officers are all that helpful.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in;line-height:200%">“Ignore them, I do. Let’s go find an office we can chat in with more privacy.” The other officers watched him escort her into a small side office. If it wasn’t for the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">foreign</i> cab driver, some of them thought, it almost looked like the detective was looking for a place to enjoy some quiet time with the pretty young woman. Several of them would like to.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in;line-height:200%">Once the door was closed, Monroe offered Margaret a seat but she refused.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in;line-height:200%">“Now, Mrs. Raymond, why don’t you calm down and tell me what’s troubling you?”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in;line-height:200%">“It’s about my brother.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in;line-height:200%">“Well, the police haven’t gotten very far into the investigation of his murder—“</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in;line-height:200%">“And you know why!” Margaret said holding her voice down so not to be heard by those who were obviously listening outside the door.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in;line-height:200%">“Excuse me?”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in;line-height:200%">“You know exactly why the police haven’t found his murderer, and won’t. Because you’re covering up facts of the case.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in;line-height:200%">Monroe glanced over at Cabbie with concern.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in;line-height:200%">“Yes, look at your brother conspirator.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in;line-height:200%">“What?”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in;line-height:200%">“You’ve both been in this from the beginning. Knowing the truth of what happened to my brother. Knowing full well that my brother is… was the Masked Ghost.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in;line-height:200%">“Mrs. Raymond, keep your voice down.” Cabbie said, trying not to show his own fear.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in;line-height:200%">“I’m trying to remain calm, but I won’t be able to until you explain what’s going on here. What did my brother get involved in that made him put on that stupid mask?”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in;line-height:200%">The detective sighed and sat down in one of the chairs, his bright face had dulled, “Please sit down Mrs. Raymond.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in;line-height:200%">She didn’t want to, but did so as she knew he was about to tell her something important. Cabbie remained standing, guarding the door.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in;line-height:200%">“Your brother put on that stupid mask, as you call it, and became the Masked Ghost because he knew of no other way to solve the murder.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in;line-height:200%">“You mean Sheila Brewster’s death?”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in;line-height:200%">“That’s correct, but it became far greater than just one accident or murder.” </p> <p class="MsoBodyTextIndent">“The Masked Ghost would go places the police could not, or would not,” Cabbie said looking down at Monroe. There wasn’t a lot of trust between these two men who held such a great secret together.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in;line-height:200%"><span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>“After he began investigating the crime, he soon came across other crimes in this city that only The Masked Ghost could solve and make right. Other people that needed help.” Monroe continued the story, “Over the last year the Masked Ghost has become more than just a way for him to express his obsession over his lost love. A lot of use have been helped, saved, or changed for the better by what The Masked Ghost has done.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in;line-height:200%">Margaret looked at these two men, both could take care of themselves in a fight, and realized that some how her brother had saved them from something far worse.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in;line-height:200%">“He became a symbol of hope, became the people’s protector. This city needs the Masked Ghost.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in;line-height:200%">“Well, who’s protecting him? The Masked Ghost got my brother killed! What hope is there now?”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in;line-height:200%">“We’re very sorry for your loss,” It was a line the police officer quoted out of habit and immediately knew it was the wrong thing to say.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in;line-height:200%">“Are you going to tell me the same thing when my husband ends up dead?”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in;line-height:200%">They looked at her in silence.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in;line-height:200%">“You both knew what my brother was doing, and did not hesitate to encourage Donald to put the mask on.” She paused for a moment, “it was one of you that left the envelope of police reports at our door.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in;line-height:200%">Monroe shifted in his seat and gave himself away, then finally spoke; “Adrian knew he was not going to live to see the conclusion of the one case that meant everything to him.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in;line-height:200%">Margaret gasped at the thought her brother knew he was heading for his own death that night he appeared out of the storm. But what did that have to do with Donald?</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in;line-height:200%">“He knew,” Cabbie said, “he knew that he had begun something far greater than himself and that others would have to continue after he was gone. The Masked Ghost would have to live, no matter what happened to Adrian Brown.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in;line-height:200%">She looked at them as realization struck her, “Adrian wanted Donald to put on the mask? To become the Masked Ghost?”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in;line-height:200%">“You’re bother was very wise and always chose rightly.” Cabbie said, with deeper meaning than she understood.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in;line-height:200%">“Well he was wrong this time!” Margaret leapt to her feet, knocking the chair over.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in;line-height:200%">“My husband is out there and the Masked Ghost is going to get him killed!!”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in;line-height:200%">She looked down at Detective Monroe with anger, “What are you going to do to protect him? Will the police save my husband while they’re hunting a masked vigilante?” She already knew the answer.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in;line-height:200%">There was a long pause.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in;line-height:200%">“I’m sorry Mrs. Raymond,” said Monroe, “as a police officer there is nothing I can do to help him.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in;line-height:200%">Margaret fought back tears as she looked from the detective to the taxi cab driver.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in;line-height:200%">“Well, if you won’t do anything, I will.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in;line-height:200%">“Come along,” she pulled Cabbie out of the room and through the station filled with confused police officers, “I need to gather my brother’s belongings.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:center;text-indent:.5in; line-height:200%" align="center">To Be Continued…</p>Kevin Paul Shaw Brodenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13987862091955836517noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3512695503179591731.post-28470399872516984652011-04-19T20:43:00.000-07:002011-06-21T17:07:35.280-07:00Chapter 19 - "Fight For A Ghost"<style>p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal { margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; font-size: 12pt; font-family: Times; }div.Section1 { page: Section1; }</style> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center">REVENGE OF THE MASKED GHOST</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center">by Kevin Paul Shaw Broden</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center">(Copyright 2011 Kevin Paul Shaw Broden)</p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center">Chapter 19 – “Fight For A Ghost”</p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“That’s where it happened.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>Donald Raymond hadn’t heard what Cabbie was saying. Sitting in the back of the taxicab on the long drive out of the city, his thoughts kept drifting back to his beloved wife Margaret and wondering why he was doing this. It would be so easy for them to put all this behind them. To forget what had happened and move on with their lives as normal. Safe in their little world that money provided them. But Donald knew he couldn’t let it go, and neither would his wife.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;">He was certain he would die tonight and leave her alone, and yet it was for Margaret that kept Donald going forwards towards that death. He had to find out what had happened to her brother, no matter the cost.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>Cabbie finally got his attention by purposefully hitting a pothole in the road.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“What--?<span style=""> </span>Were you saying something?”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“Yes. Look over there,” the driver responded, slowed the car, and pointed out the right side windows of the vehicle. The edge of the road dropped away into darkness.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“There’s a ditch, runs along the road for about thirty yards until it reaches the turn,” Cabbie explained, “The boss had me drive past here many times… That’s where the truck forced his lady friend’s car off the road. It tumbled down into the ditch. He was badly injured, and well… you know the rest.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>Donald silently nodded. Sheila was killed in the accident that was no accident. <i>So this is where it all began,</i><span style="font-style: normal;"> he thought to himself. Here was where the tragedy struck that turned his adventuring journalist of a brother-in-law into the obsessed and dangerous vigilante known as the Masked Ghost.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>Now Donald found himself wearing the same mask and returning to the very scene to find out what truly happened.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>Alert now, Donald watched as they drove past the front gates of the property belonging to the <i>Spade Import and Export Company</i><span style="font-style: normal;">. The yard was fenced in with only one entrance from the road and a guard booth next to it.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>A quarter mile further on, the taxi pulled behind an over grown hedge.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“It’s all on foot from here,” Donald said adjusting the mask and opening the door.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“Do you want me to stay here?” Cabbie asked.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“No. Margaret will be home soon. Stay close to her. Keep her safe.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>Out of the car, The Masked Ghost crouched behind the hedge as the taxi drove away.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>After several minutes had past, he checked the road, and when there were no headlights visible from either direction he darted across the road. Quietly and slowly he made his way back to the property.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>Just as suspected, there was a guard on duty at the gate and if The Masked Ghost’s notes were accurate he would be highly armed.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>The vigilante moved around the side of the property and was pleasantly surprised to find that the storm from the other evening had knocked a large broken branch down on to a portion of the fence. It was still complete, but pushed down just enough to allow him to climb over. It was also hidden from view by several storage bins.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>Dropping to the ground once more, The Masked Ghost remained as motionless as possible. Other than the gate guard, he couldn’t see anyone else on the property from this position. When the guard looked distracted, he took a run for another corner of the yard.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>From here he could make out the rest of the property. There were three main buildings. One was a single story brick building that held the administrative offices, a small storage unit at the opposite side; and a large warehouse building in the center. There were lights on in the administration building, so that would be his next stop.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>But before he could move towards his destination, lights appeared at the gate. The guard opened it, and a very familiar truck pulled on to the property.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>The Spade logo was quite visible on the side door, even in the low light of the yard. Once parked, a tall man got out the drivers door. From the Masked Ghost’s position he recognized the man Donald had seen at the construction site earlier in the day. As the man headed for administration building, The Masked Ghost noticed how he walked. It too was familiar. This was the same man he had fought off the other day downtown, and nearly killed him on the road.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><i>He’s the killer of that poor accountant,</i><span style="font-style: normal;"> Donald thought with dread.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;">The Masked Ghost cleared his head and concentrated on the moment. Before he could move another set of headlamps came up to the gate. A touring car similar to Donald’s father-in-law’s was allowed on to the property and parked right in front of the administration building.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><i>Everyone wants to be there tonight.</i><span style="font-style: normal;"></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;">It was an older man, slightly stooped, who got out of the car. Someone greeted him at the door and ushered him inside.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;">After fifteen minutes waiting, The Masked Ghost decided that no one else was going to be arriving. The gate guard sat back in his little booth with his eyes facing out to the road. It gave the Masked Ghost the perfect opportunity to dart across the yard, from one shadow to the next as if each welcomed him like an old friend.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;">He made it to the corner of the administration building and slowly crept around it until he approached the office where the lights were on. Finding an open window, the Masked Ghost crouched low hoping not to make a noise as he listened to the voices inside.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;">“Why did you want me here tonight,” said an older weak voice, full of fear.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;">“You came here because I summoned you!” It was a deeper voice, powerful yet sounded as if his cheeks were swollen.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;">“Yes… sir,” it was not a sound of respect, but of resignation, “but, but what more can I do for you. You’ve already destroyed my family. Taken my little girl from me. Why must you continue to torment me…?”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;">“Because I can,” came the answer with a wicket yet suppressed laugh, “because of what you can do for me. Or rather, what your money can do for me. You know that. You’ve helped fund several construction sites in the city. Now you’re just funding mine…”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>The Masked Ghost listened intently to the voices inside that he didn’t hear the crunch of gravel only a few feet away. A hand grabbed the back of his collar and yanked him upwards.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>Mistake number one of the night. He hadn’t counted on the Gate Guard having a partner who was on his way to trade off shifts. Now he held the vigilante high by the arms.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>Donald didn’t know what to do, but the Masked Ghost kicked both legs forward against the guard’s chest and was knocked free. He tumbled and hit the ground.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>The guard loomed over him ready to kill, but wasn’t prepared when the masked stranger suddenly leapt up and through all his weight into to him.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>A moment later both men crashed through the window.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>The men in the room leapt back in all directions, startled by the sudden violent invasion of their business meeting.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>The guard hit the floor and the Masked Ghost struck once, twice, with gloved fists against his face until he stopped fighting back.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“No, not again!” Came a startled voice.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>Adrenaline was flowing through the Masked Ghost when he looked up and saw the man he knew to be a killer. Fire in his legs propelled him forward; knocking two office chairs aside and grabbed hold of the man as the guard had him only moments ago.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“You’re a killer.” He shouted.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“You’re suppose to be dead,” the man shouted full of fear. Honestly believing in ghosts right then.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>He was about to smash the man’s face, when something moved behind him. The Masked Ghost didn’t have time to respond when a heavy pipe came down across the back of his skull.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>The Masked Ghost fell to the ground.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“Ghost or not!” Came a new voice, “Should have made certain he was dead the first time you killed him.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>The last sight Donald Raymond saw before darkness engulfed his vision was the rotund figure of Police Detective William Dobb.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“This time, do it right!”</p>Kevin Paul Shaw Brodenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13987862091955836517noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3512695503179591731.post-39391168536705340442011-04-05T17:05:00.000-07:002011-04-05T17:08:20.107-07:00Chapter 18 - "Preparing For A Ghost"<style>p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal { margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; font-size: 12pt; font-family: Times; }div.Section1 { page: Section1; }</style> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center">REVENGE OF THE MASKED GHOST</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center">by Kevin Paul Shaw Broden</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center">(Copyright 2011 Kevin Paul Shaw Broden)</p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center">Chapter 18 – “Preparing for A Ghost”</p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“Do you really have to leave so soon?” Katharine Brown said as her daughter pulled on her coat.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“Yes, Mama. Donald won’t know what to do with out me.” Margaret Raymond responded with a joke, but her father grumbled as if it was the truth.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“Bye,” she kissed her mother; “I’ll call later and help you with the arrangements for the service.” As much as she didn’t want to talk about her brother’s death, and upset her mother further, there were some things a family could not ignore. A funeral would have to be planned.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>She turned and hugged her father who stood stiff and looked at her with cold eyes. He suspected something. Margaret kicked herself for being too inquisitive about Sheila’s family. Asked too many questions about their financial dealings in construction.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;">Now Margaret had to get back to the city and tell Donald what she had learned.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; line-height: 200%;" align="center">###</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>Donald Raymond was concerned for his wife as well. For him, the less she knew the safer he felt Margaret would be. Through the entire taxi ride back to the penthouse apartment, his dead brother-in-law haunted his every thought.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span><i>No… The Masked Ghost.</i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>Donald had left the construction site worried and upset. His friend, Petra Nikolas, had gotten himself involved with someone that even the Union boss was bothered by. Something was very wrong there, and it was all tied into what Adrian was investigating.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span><i>The</i><span style="font-style: normal;"> Masked Ghost.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>Once home, Donald collapsed into his chair. Closing his eyes he tried to think about what he should do next. What could he really do with so little knowledge and a lot of suspicion? He certainly couldn’t go to the police because there would be no easy way to explain what he knew and how he knew it. Donald also couldn’t tell them that his brother-in-law was the vigilante they were hunting. Besides, it was possible that the police were involved. That Detective Monroe sure knew something.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>Opening his eyes Donald found himself staring at the French doors that lead out onto the balcony. Had it only been a short few days ago that a terrible storm blew them open and the vigilante known as the Masked Ghost had entered their lives?</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“I’m not going to figure anything out sitting here,” Donald pushed himself out of the chair and retrieved the box full of the notes and files Adrian had been gathering.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span><i>The Masked Ghost.</i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>He pulled out the sheets of paper and folders until he found one labeled: SPADE IMPORT AND EXPORT.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>Everything tied back to this company. The construction site, the accounting office and the murder that happened there. Adrian believed it was their truck that had run Sheila’s car off the road and killed her. It all lead to the Spade company’s warehouse that Adrian had first investigated, and where he decided to become The Masked Ghost.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span><i>The Masked Ghost</i><span style="font-style: normal;">.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>Donald sighed as he jotted down the address listed in the files. As much as he wanted to put all this away so that Margaret and he could have a normal life, he knew that wasn’t possible, at least not until they finally discovered what had happened to her brother Adrian.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span><i>The Masked Ghost.</i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>For his wife sake he knew what the next move must be.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>He hated it, but there was no other way.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>Donald Raymond entered the bedroom and in to the back of the walk in closet. He pulled out an old suitcase and tossed it upon the bed.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>It wasn’t much of a hiding place; he’d have to think of a better one in the future.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“Damn it,” he shouted at himself, “there isn’t going to be another time. No more of this!”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>But even as he spoke these words, he had opened the suitcase and removed a man’s double-breasted suit, shirt, heavy shoes, and large trench coat. The hat came next. Then he took out the thing that bothered him the most: the blood red mask.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span><i>The Masked Ghost.</i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>Even though he had already worn the mask, all he saw in it was the dead face of Margaret’s brother. He knew that it would always be a horrible reminder to her as well.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>That’s why he planned to destroy it when this was over.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>Yet even as he hated it, Donald put on each item of clothing. Shaking as he did so.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>He found the specially hidden pockets in the coat that held the grappling gun, lock picks, and other paraphernalia that the vigilante uses. It still surprised him by just how prepared Adrian was for all this.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span><i>The Masked Ghost.</i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>Then came the holsters and the two loaded handguns. They terrified him. Terrified that he would have to use them against someone.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“I’m no killer.” He said aloud. Donald didn’t want to imagine that his brother-in-law was either. That would simply be devastating to Margaret and her family.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>Lifting the mask to his face, he realized that Donald Raymond might not survive the night. He thought of his wife one last time and put the mask on.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>The Masked Ghost stepped from the bedroom ready to face whatever the night had prepared for him.</p>Kevin Paul Shaw Brodenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13987862091955836517noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3512695503179591731.post-21394225799356497662011-03-22T19:55:00.000-07:002011-05-10T20:06:30.159-07:00Chapter 17 - “Away from a Ghost”<style>p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal { margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; font-size: 12pt; font-family: Times; }p.MsoHeader, li.MsoHeader, div.MsoHeader { margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; font-size: 12pt; font-family: Times; }p.MsoFooter, li.MsoFooter, div.MsoFooter { margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; font-size: 12pt; font-family: Times; }div.Section1 { page: Section1; }</style> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center">“REVENGE OF THE MASKED GHOST”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center">by Kevin Paul Shaw Broden</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center">(Copyright 2011 Kevin Paul Shaw Broden)</p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; line-height: 200%;" align="center">Chapter 17 - “Away from a Ghost”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>Margaret Randolf went to visit her parents. Or rather, her husband Donald sent her off to visit her parents. He made certain she got to the station and put her on the right train. She knew he was up to something, but wouldn’t tell her what. </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; line-height: 200%;" align="center">###</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>She arrived at the other end of the line to be greeted by her father’s driver waiting for her and she was at the old house in no time. </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>Margaret found her mother asleep in the room that had been her brother’s.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“Mom”, she knelt next to the woman. Katherine Brown looked nearly identical to her daughter if thirty years older and with longer hair.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“Oh, Maggie, thank God,” the older woman leapt up and through her arms around Margaret, “I dreamt both you and Adrian had been killed.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“I’m here, Mama, I’m here.” Margaret said holding her crying mother. She looked up to see her father grimly standing in the doorway watching them.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>With her daughter in the house, Katherine forced herself to be active. Even though Margaret protested, her mother went to the kitchen to have a meal prepared.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“That’s the most activity she’s made in two days,” her father told Margaret, “When I came home and told her what had happened to Adrian she screamed and screamed for two hours straight until. She smashed vases in the dining room, and then collapsed into tears in his room.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“Sorry I didn’t get here sooner, but Don and I had a lot to take care of.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“Where is that husband of yours?” Her father demanded.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“I’m sorry, but he had business to take care of and had to attend a meeting that came up at the last minute and he couldn’t get out of.” She couldn’t very well tell him that he was following a clue in her brother’s death.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; line-height: 200%;" align="center">###</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>After leaving Margaret at the train station, Donald hopped into a tax cab. He first made certain that the driver wasn’t Cabbie; he didn’t want another discussion about why the Masked Ghost had to live. He wanted nothing more to do with the vigilante. Just a few hours in the mask was enough for Donald, never again.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>The taxi took him to a construction site at the far end of Manhattan.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>Donald paid the fare and walked up to the security booth at the front gate.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>He had put on more rugged looking work clothes, feeling it wouldn’t be right to show up in a three piece suit that cost more than many of these men made in a year. Yet the workers still looked at him suspiciously, even though he had worked with many of them in the past Donald Raymond was no longer part of their world.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>The guard also eyed him wearily. No one was to enter the construction site without permission. It was for safety, of course.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“Tell Mr. Nikolas that his old friend ‘Donny’ is here to see him.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>The guard eyed him up again, then waved over a worker, and said something to him. The worker looked at ‘Donny’ and then ran off and into the manager’s shack.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>A moment later the shack shook, as the door was flown open, and a large burly man with a shaving brush mustache ran out.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“Donny, Oh my God, Donny,” said Petra Nikolas as he slapped his large arms around Donald and lifted him from the ground, “I thought you were dead.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; line-height: 200%;" align="center">###</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>It almost felt like a family, like home. Almost.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>Mom was chatting away to Margaret about this and that, but her hands were shaking as she ate the few bites Katherine brought to her lips. She was trying to be strong, and doing things for her daughter kept her mind occupied, at least for a while.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>Margaret listened to her mother ramble with stories of when Adrian and she were little playing in the back gardens of the house. Briefly she glanced across the table at her father whose lip was quivering only slightly. It stopped and his face became like stone when he realized she was watching.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;">Harris J. Brown had taught himself to be that way a long time ago. To be strong and unemotional got him through the terrible stock market crash a few years earlier. Emotions lead to rash decisions and mistakes.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>He thought his daughter marrying the Raymond fellow was all emotion and rash and that it would be a mistake that would only hurt her and the family. Yet it was Adrian who had convinced him to give Donald another consideration, another look. In the right environment that rugged young fellow was intelligent and did understand business, if from a different angle than Brown’s own. So far he’s proven himself, both as a good husband and a businessman. It was the right thing to bring him into the company.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>Yet it was his own son, Adrian Harris Brown, who had all the emotional and imagination of his mother. Running off to this country or that following ‘leads’ for his newspaper articles. Writing strange stories for dime magazines. Meeting all sorts of people. Moving away from the family and living in the squalor of an apartment among the riffraff of the city.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>If he had only stayed with the family, thought better of it, he would not have made the decisions that had gotten him killed.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>Harris looked up to see Margaret still looking at him; she was patting her mother’s hand.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“Adrian seemed so happy after he met Sheila,” Katherine was saying, her eyes not focusing on anything now except the memories of her son.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“Yes, I know.” Margaret agreed with her mother trying to keep her calm, “I always thought she was grounding him.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“And she did,” Harris said, “but that family of hers didn’t help any.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>Both women looked up at him in surprise.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; line-height: 200%;" align="center">###</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“It’s been too long, Donny,” Petra Nikolas said. He had invited Donald into the manager’s shack and they had been talking for the last hour, “Has the wife been good to you.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“The wife has been very good to me,” Donald replied without a hint of innuendo that Nikolas was hoping for.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“You’ve changed, you have,” his friend smiled.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“Maybe I have. Maybe I have. What about you? You seem to be doing well for yourself. This is quite a construction site you’re overseeing,” Donald glanced at the familiar blueprints pinned to the wall he had seen only nights before in the lair of the Masked Ghost.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“Oh it is. Gonna be the biggest building in all New York.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“Bigger than the Empire State Building? Petra, you wound me.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“Progress, Donny, Progress,” Nikolas replied to Donald’s joke then looked down at his shoes?</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“Petra, is something wrong?”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“No, no. All well. Progress is being made in this fine city. Just wish that there’d be signs of some progress in the finances.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“Having money troubles?”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“You didn’t hear it from me, but this monstrosity,” he gestured at the blueprint, “is starting to be called ‘Wolf’s Folly’. Money disappears when it should be going into the girders above.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>Donald thought about that for a moment. He was about to ask about Herbert J. Wolf and where things stood for the architect when a heavy pounding came to the door.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; line-height: 200%;" align="center">###</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>Margaret saw that her mother was comfortable and sitting in the lounge reading. She had been about a third way through Adrian’s novel when she learned of his death. Katherine wanted to be close to him now through his words.<span style=""> </span>At least she was peaceful, Margaret thought.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“What did you mean by that, daddy?” She pulled Harris into another room so as not to disturb her mother, “What’s so wrong with the Brusters?”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“Besides blaming my son for Sheila’s death? Everything.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“What does that suppose to mean?”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“Do you know why Adrian interviewed them originally?”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“Something to do with finances, I think. Doesn’t Mr. Bruster work with the city?”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“That’s right. Adrian’s publisher wanted to do a full cover exposé on Argust Bruster and how he’s been helping fund raise a lot of the massive construction in the city.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“Oh,” Knowing her husband’s former career in construction this struck a note of interest to Margaret, “go on.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“After it was obvious Adrian was serious about Sheila I looked into the family and their business.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“Of course you did, father,” she said dryly. He had spent three months looking into Donald’s background, family, and friends. According to Harris, he was far beneath Margaret to pay him any attention, but when she wouldn’t give up and Adrian supported the relationship he had called out the big guns to make certain that his new son-in-law wasn’t going to ruin the family. “What did you find?”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“Too many hands in his pockets.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; line-height: 200%;" align="center">###</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>Before Petra could get out his seat, the door to the shack was thrown open.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“Nikolas! Why aren’t you paying my men?!” </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>Donald recognized the blustery voice of Jacob Saul the local construction labor union leader, having come screaming into his own construction offices in the past. He also recognized Saul from the Masked Ghost’s notes about this very same construction site.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“I am paying them as best that I can,” Petra said getting up to confront the invader, but the way he sounded Donald knew there was no strength behind it, the burly man suddenly looked small and weak. If Saul wanted to take the pay out of his skull there wouldn’t be much of a defense, and from the clenching of fists it was bound to happen.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“There’s no need to be angry,” Donald got up and stood next to his friend.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>Jacob Saul looked at him for a moment and then remembered, “Raymond, I thought you ran off from doing a real man’s job.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“And I thought you had grown past childish tantrums. Hardly a way to get people to see things your way.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“Do you want to see my way of thinking,” Saul raised a fist.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“Please, please. No fighting,” Nikolas said as if in fear of being caught.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“You couldn’t do it before, I doubt you could do it now,” Donald said, “but Petra’s right. There’s no need to fight. Perhaps there are other ways you can negotiate.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“No more negotiations. He’s got to pay--”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>He was interrupted by another knock at the door and a low voice, “Mr. Nikolas, they’re here.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“Oh, dear, oh dear.” Nikolas began to mumble about himself.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“Who’s here, Petre?” Donald asked, ignoring the union thug for the moment, “what’s wrong?”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“Nothing’s wrong. You’ll just have to go now. Both of you.” Nikolas said, which startled Saul.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>Donald knew something was up and thought it best to get out of the way. For now.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“I think its time for us to go,” he grabbed Saul’s arm and pulled him out the door, “Talk to you soon Petra.” He shouted back in and lead Saul towards the main gate.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“Let go of me,” the union man shook free, “so you taking our fight outside to teach me a lesson?”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“Sometimes I think you’re past being able to learn anything,” Donald said in return, “but no. I don’t want to fight you. Tell me, is Nikolas really having trouble paying your men?”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>Saul sighed, “It’s hard out here for everyone. We’re not all lucky to marry into money.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“It was a blessing for me, but I feel guilty all the time when I see you all out here working. I really do.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“I cry for you,” Saul said, but there was no fire behind it, “Yes, for the past few weeks he’s been paying later and later. Even though I try to scare it out of him, it’s not your friend’s fault. From what I understand the money’s drying up much higher than his office.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“Damn. I really thought he’d make something of himself.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“You always tried to be fair to the men,” Saul had to acknowledge, “we rarely saw eye to eye when the union didn’t get what we wanted from you, but you were fair.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“Thank you, that means a lot,” Donald said looking across the construction site before leaving. He saw a tall thin man in a suit entering Nikolas’s office. Then across the yard he saw something else.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“Do you know who that is?” He asked Saul.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“No, but I know that,” the union man said indicating the truck Donald was already looking at with a concerned eye, “it’s been showing up at several sites in the city recently.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>On the side of the truck was the painted emblem for the <i>Spade Import and Export Company</i><span style="font-style: normal;">.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: center;">To Be Continued…</p>Kevin Paul Shaw Brodenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13987862091955836517noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3512695503179591731.post-43128984061265859242011-03-08T20:46:00.000-08:002011-05-10T20:05:42.123-07:00Chapter 16 - “Package for a Ghost”<style>p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal { margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; font-size: 12pt; font-family: Times; }div.Section1 { page: Section1; }</style> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center">“REVENGE OF THE MASKED GHOST”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center">by Kevin Paul Shaw Broden</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center">(Copyright 2011 Kevin Paul Shaw Broden)</p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center">Chapter 16 - “Package for a Ghost”</p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>The heavy knocking at the door came again.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“It's the police!” Margaret panicked.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>Donald Randolf agreed with his wife, that knock was very similar to the hard pounding that came when the police arrived the other evening when the Masked Ghost had first arrived invaded their lives. But there was no accompanying announcement.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>He didn’t speak, but gestured for her to remain at the table as he cautiously approached the door.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“Hello?” Donald spoke, but received no response.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>Slowly he unlocked the door and opened it a few inches, but could see no one. Then he opened it wider and looked both directions down the hall, but again none could be seen. It was completely silent, no sound of footsteps or doors closing.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>Stepping out, his foot kicked something. There was a large stuffed enveloped on the floor.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>Checking once more that no one was around; he picked up the package and turned it over but found nothing writing on it. No name, no address. He brought it in and locked the door behind him.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“Who was it?” Margaret asked as her husband returned to the table.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>He didn’t answer, but opened the enveloped and briefly looked inside, then let the contents slide out on to the table. It was a pile of typed pages as well as newspaper clippings, and a few photographs.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>Donald lifted the first of the sheet from the pile, “It’s a police report.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“It’s a report about you…” Margaret said looking at another page, “I mean the Masked Ghost.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>They sat down at the table and read through the police report of the incident of the evening before.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>It was clear that the police were hunting for the masked vigilante. </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><i>He is to be considered armed and dangerous, and he has now added murder to his long list of crimes against the city of New York.</i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>She looked at a gruesome crime scene photo of the body lying on the office floor with accounting papers fallen around it.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“You… you didn’t…?”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“Of course I didn’t kill anyone. How can you even ask that,” he was harsher than he needed to be. Guilt was beating in his ears knowing that as the Masked Ghost he had waited outside that office, while a man was being tortured to death inside. “Remember, I told you there was someone else in there. He attacked me before making his escape.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>Margaret continued looking at the photograph. It was horrific, but she couldn’t tear her eyes away. “Do you think Adrian ever killed as the Masked Ghost?”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“Certainly not,” Donald said, taking the photo from his wife and shoving it back into the envelope where it couldn’t be seen. He wasn’t as certain as he claimed, it was clear they really didn’t know Adrian Brown at all and had no clue as to what he had or had not done as the Masked Ghost. He had weapons, and knew how to use them. Had he used them, was he planning on using them? They would never know.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>Putting those thoughts aside, he read further into the notes. <i>This page was about the victim. Sidney Shoelle, the owner of Shoelle investments. Unmarried. He’s run the company for the last five years. It then provided a list of clients, and ‘known associates’. The police had made a note on this sheet to indicate that the Masked Ghost was most likely looking to remove some of the competition in the criminal businesses in town.</i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“That hardly seems likely,” Margaret said over Donald’s shoulder.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“True, a one man army attempting to take over underworld of New York? Doesn’t make much sense, no matter what the Masked Ghost has done.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>Donald read through the list of names, then again.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“Hold this,” he handed her the list and ran out of the room.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span><span style=""> </span>A moment later he came back in.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“It’s a good thing I’m not the Masked Ghost and we’re not going to continue this madness. Because we can’t keep storing all this stuff, this incriminating evidence, in our closet.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>Donald said that while carrying a box into the dining room and put it on the table alongside the envelope. He shuffled through several papers they had brought back from Adrian’s apartment. It was what they thought might be important and what they could be able to carry that night. Even with Cabbie’s help, they didn’t intend to bring all of his crime fighting paraphernalia back to the penthouse. It wouldn’t be safe.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“Here!” He said pulling out a page of notes and descriptions. </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“What? What did you find?”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“Adrian, or his Masked Ghost persona, had collected a list of his own of people that were connected, however minutely, with the company he was certain was involved in Sheila’s death.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“Yes, I know. We’re still trying to work out his filing system.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“Well this list from the police has many of the same names on it.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“Somehow I don’t find that surprising,” his wife said. This whole sleuthing was really getting exciting to her, except when she had to think about the deaths involved, especially of her brother, “The Masked Ghost had already made the connection to the investment company--”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“Oh, God, no, not him!” Donald said in shock, and then suddenly gathered up all the police report and adjoining papers and shoved them back into the envelope.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“What? Who? What did you find?”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>He then dropped the envelop into the box with all the other belongs of the Masked Ghost, then closed the lid. His hands felt dirty.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“No more of this,” he said aloud, “I was right. We can’t have anything more to do with the Masked Ghost.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>Margaret could see her husband was upset but also determined. But if he wasn’t going to put on the mask, then who would seek justice for her brother?</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“What are we going to do now?” She finally asked after he had sunk down into a chair.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“We? Well, for starters, you’re going to go visit your mother.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“But--”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“You already said that you would, Maggie. You’re mother needs you. Now more than ever, and your father needs you too.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>She was silent for a moment. Margaret wanted to do something to help find her brother’s killer, but Donald was right, she needed to be strong and supportive of the family first.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“Okay, I’ll go visit Mummy and Daddy, but what are you going to do?”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“I’m…” Donald gave a final thought to it, “I’m going to visit an old friend.”</p>Kevin Paul Shaw Brodenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13987862091955836517noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3512695503179591731.post-47090029666597593962011-02-01T20:46:00.000-08:002011-05-10T20:04:36.169-07:00Chapter 15 - "A Ghost Rejected"<style>p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal { margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; font-size: 12pt; font-family: Times; }p.MsoBodyTextIndent, li.MsoBodyTextIndent, div.MsoBodyTextIndent { margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%; font-size: 12pt; font-family: Times; }div.Section1 { page: Section1; }</style> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center">REVENGE OF THE MASKED GHOST</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center">by Kevin Paul Shaw Broden</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center"><span style=""> </span>(Copyright 2011 Kevin Paul Shaw Broden)</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; line-height: 200%;" align="center">Chapter 15 – “A Ghost Rejected”</p> <p class="MsoBodyTextIndent">“Tell me again,” Margaret giggled, “how you flew off the building.” She leaned forward and kissed her husband’s chest.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;">“I didn’t… fly…Told you… that… a dozen times… already,” Donald Randolf moaned beneath her.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;">“Tell me anyway,” she sighed and cuddled down into his arms.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;">They had spent the night and long into the morning in bed. The excitement of the evening before had built up adrenalin in them both and they found ways to burn it off until sleep finally took hold.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;">Later they pulled themselves out of bed and showered together. It wasn’t just animal lust, neither wanted to let the other go in fear they wouldn’t come back.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;">Finally, as Margaret prepared a small brunch, Donald called in to work.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;">“I won’t be coming in today, Betty,” he told his secretary.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;">“Thought as much, sir. Mr. Brown isn’t in either. He stayed home with his wife. So sorry to hear about what happened to their son.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;">“Ya. Margaret’s pretty shaken up about her brother as well. Am sorry if I’m leaving you with a lot of work.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;">“Don’t mention it, sir. I completely understand.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;">“I’ll make certain you’re paid for any extra hours,” Donald hated it when people were used; they deserved to be paid for the work they did. He wasn’t certain his father-in-law saw it the same way, but Donald was going to make anyone that worked for him got paid right.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;">After returning the phone to its cradle Donald joined his wife at the table.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;">“You should call your parents, I’m sure your mother could use the support right now.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;">“I was thinking about going out to see them,” Margaret replied as she spread a helping of marmalade on her toast, “but I don’t want to leave you.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>He didn’t need to respond to that as he reached for the bacon, Donald understood all to well what she meant and felt the same way.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>After they had eaten a few bites, Donald let out a heavy sigh and rolled his head feeling the tightness in his neck crunch. Noticing he was aching, Margaret got up behind him and began massaging his shoulders.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“You had quite a work out last night,” she said as she worked at his tense muscles.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“I am never doing that again,” he said sternly.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“Well I certainly enjoyed what doing it with you,” Margaret giggled with a mischievous smile, “I hope you’re not quitting on me.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>Donald mumbled something into his coffee. His wife sometimes came off with the most inappropriate jokes, but he loved her anyway.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>The massage felt good, but after a few minutes, he reached up and brushed her hands away. She knew that meant he wanted to be serious and so sat down across from him again. He was finally going to tell her the decision he had come to hours earlier, before getting so pleasantly distracted.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“I can’t go out there again. I won’t put that mask on ever again.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>She reached over and squeezed his hand lovingly.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“I nearly died out there,” he looked her in the face, “if not that fall. And let’s face <span style=""> </span>it that was a fall, only Adrian’s coat saved me. If not that than it might have been one of a dozen gunshots. I’m not a criminal, why are the police shooting at me?”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“But you weren’t killed,” she tried to reassure him.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“What about the next time? Or the next? All I could think about was you being left alone if I died.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“Oh, honey,” she reached to hug him, but he pulled away.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“What was I thinking putting on that damn mask?”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>They were silent for moment. Margaret felt hurt after he pulled away. She didn’t know how to response until finally she just spoke.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“You did it for me. Because you knew I wanted you too.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>He looked at her slightly confused.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“The whole time you were out there in the darkness I was terrified, imagining all sorts of horrific things happening to you.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“Exactly, I can’t have you worried like that again. I love you!”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“Oh, darling, I love you too. Now listen to me. Even though scared, I am also very proud of you going out there looking for clues to what happened to Adrian. You’re out there being my hero.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“I don’t want to be a hero. I just want to be your husband. I don’t want to be the Masked Ghost!”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“No one said you had to be.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“Cabby sure thinks I do. Calls me boss as if he’s been following my orders all along. He showed up and got me away from the police at the last minute, but I never called him.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>Margaret gave an understanding nod, “he did that yesterday for me too. I wasn’t surprised, but there he was outside the restaurant waiting on us as if he knew we’d need a ride to Adrian’s apartment.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“He says he goes where the Masked Ghost needs him,” Donald said and thought for a moment. Cabby hadn’t once talked about working for Adrian; it was always the Masked Ghost. It was the same when he put mask on as well. “What did Adrian do for the man to make him so loyal?”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“We have no idea how many people Adrian has helped as the Masked Ghost,” Margaret had similar thoughts, “all this time helping others and getting no closer to solving Sheila’s death. The very reason he put on the mask. The Masked Ghost must be a hero to many.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“I thought you hated hearing about the terrible vigilante on the streets.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“That’s before I understood what he was trying to do. Before I knew all the good he was doing,” Margaret paused and looked down somberly, “before I knew it was Adrian.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“Right. The Masked Ghost was Adrian and it got him killed. If I put the mask back on then the Masked Ghost will kill me too, or worse, it’ll kill you. I can’t have that.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“But we need to find out what happened to Adrian, and we can’t forget Sheila either. He would want us to solve her murder.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“That’s what the police are for,” he said feeling angry. He didn’t like that feeling, especially towards his wife.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“You said that there’s a good chance that the police are involved in this.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“They’re certainly intent on hunting down the Masked Ghost. I don’t want to be hunted. But they can investigate the murders.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“I’m beginning to think that only the Masked Ghost can do that.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“Well, I am not the Masked Ghost!”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>Their heated discussion fell into silence.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>A moment later they both jumped at the sound of a heavy hammering knock at the door.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; line-height: 200%;" align="center">To be continued…</p>Kevin Paul Shaw Brodenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13987862091955836517noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3512695503179591731.post-47290910434483348882011-01-20T19:45:00.000-08:002011-01-20T19:59:19.752-08:00First look at the Masked Ghost<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikYVOWM8OZCywyZUZn_ih4F7jQC9_Iqan_TOzKGj4HgIOaOY2jdvsktEx_fsIGAq0oCwXsI9FCo6C5P4priDOnFWl_dZGajj2fMKyq-nvahf7o_Ogdg2zaJbkxHOQo7WwLTZqQdQqIBuFV/s1600/KPSB_RMG_Investigation_1.jpg"><br /></a><br />Something special late in the week for the fans of REVENGE OF THE MASKED GHOST. This is a scene out of Chapter 12 as the Masked Ghost begins his investigation and makes gruesome discovery.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnbJ5AWUEq1tspAzrcrfJ0ml2xcAK0yPahEc-MwUIfQa4IA_nKiuefYF4o0jeY6P3HSXsVDppTIORvJTRg37LkbKKc4X1jLutRouyjsr9PkCHLFj1jLdMXJZc5bmTjqTERn1Eesksb9t1T/s1600/KPSB_RMG_Investigation_1.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 341px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnbJ5AWUEq1tspAzrcrfJ0ml2xcAK0yPahEc-MwUIfQa4IA_nKiuefYF4o0jeY6P3HSXsVDppTIORvJTRg37LkbKKc4X1jLutRouyjsr9PkCHLFj1jLdMXJZc5bmTjqTERn1Eesksb9t1T/s400/KPSB_RMG_Investigation_1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5564483192358002754" border="0" /></a><br />I hope it adds to the pulp feel of the story. Based on a photograph I posed for, this was fulling created in PAINTER using my Wacom table.<br /><br />Let me know what you think.<br />(Especially if you're a publisher needing artists.)<br /><br />Enjoy.<br /><br />Kevin Paul Shaw BrodenKevin Paul Shaw Brodenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13987862091955836517noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3512695503179591731.post-645579407804267572011-01-18T08:29:00.000-08:002011-04-26T19:14:30.519-07:00Chapter 14 – “A Ghost Escapes”<div style="text-align: center;"> <style>p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal { margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; font-size: 12pt; font-family: Times; }div.Section1 { page: Section1; }</style>REVENGE OF THE MASKED GHOST </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center">by Kevin Paul Shaw Broden</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center"><span style=""> </span>(Copyright 2011 Kevin Paul Shaw Broden)</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center">Chapter 14 – “A Ghost Escapes”</p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>The Masked Ghost leapt from the building in an attempt to reach the other side of the alley, but in escaping the police he didn’t have time to gauge the distance properly.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>Donald Raymond watched as certain death flew up at him in the form of the ground below. He closed his eyes and the face of his lovely wife appeared before him. He had let her down, unable to find out whom had killed her brother, but if he was to die this night there was no greater image to be his last than of Margaret who he loves so dearly.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>Suddenly, Donald felt himself being yanked upward. He opened his eyes to find his fall had slowed. Looking about quickly, he was shocked to discover that the inner lining of the large trench coat of the Masked Ghost had billowed outwards catching the air and acting as a parachute.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>It slowed his descent by a few seconds, but he knew hitting the ground would still be quite hard. Shifting his weight, the Masked Ghost adjusted his fall towards the opposite wall of the alleyway, and grabbed hold of a drainpipe, though only by his gloved fingertips, which allowed him to slide and control the final dozen feet of the fall.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>Letting go, he tucked himself and rolled as he hit the ground. Surprisingly, he found himself leaping to his feet.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“My God, I’m alive.” Donald said, completely surprised. The lining of the coat hung loosely. The Masked Ghost had just saved Donald’s life. “Thank you, Adrian.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>He looked up with amazement at the six-story building he had just leapt from. It was so unbelievable. How could he possibly have survived such a fall, and yet he had. His amazement was cut short when the head of one of the police officers appeared over the roof edge.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“There he is,” the officer shouted.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“Shoot him,” came another.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>Donald heard the bullet strike the brick wall behind him even before the gunshot. He wasn’t going to wait for the second.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>The Masked Ghost took off running out of the alley and down the street. He was less then a block away when flashing lights of a patrol car sped around a corner heading for him. Spinning on his heals; he took off running the way he had come, and passed the apartment building just as the police from the roof came thundering out the front door.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>He reached the end of the next block when another vehicle pulled up, blocking his path.<span style=""> </span>“Get in!” Shouted Cabbie and the Masked Ghost leapt into the back of the cab as it took off again.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>When the police reached the corner, they only saw the taillights of a car turning down another side road. When the police car arrived, the taxi was already gone.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“So how was your night, Boss?”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>Donald was so out of it that he didn’t even realized the driver was addressing him as boss.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“I’m not…”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“You are the Masked Ghost.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“The Masked Ghost nearly got me killed.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“You weren’t killed.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>Donald looked at the silken folds of the coat’s lining. It was obvious to him now that it had been designed for the very purpose it had served him tonight. He wondered just how many harrowing escapes the Masked Ghost had been in to require the design of this coat. How many more would follow?</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“The police are after me now.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“The police have been hunting the Masked Ghost for a very long time.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“How long until they finally catch him?” Donald said, removing the mask as they pulled in behind his penthouse apartment building. He looked up at the building with concern, “I know Margaret is up there worried about me. How many nights must she sit there terrified and then one night I don’t come home?”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>He paused, thinking about that. Thinking about his wife and how much he loved her.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“No! I won’t do that to her. I’m not putting this damn mask on again.” Donald said climbing from the cab.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“Whatever you say. Good night, Boss.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>Pulling off the coat and hat, Donald watched the taxi pull away and then headed through the back door of the building. The same door which they had carried the dead body of Margaret’s brother only nights before, a dead body wearing the costume of The Masked Ghost.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>Opening the door to the penthouse, Donald found himself tackled by his wife.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“You’re alive,” Margaret shouted with glee and with tears; throwing her arms around his neck and kissing him she pulled him inside.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“I am, if you don’t choke me to death,” he replied and hungrily kissed her back.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>So terrified they wouldn’t see one another again they wrapped their arms around each other, feeling every part, to reassure them that the other was real. Fear fueled adrenalin and passion burned through their bodies. Clothing flew about as they made their way to the bedroom, where they would remain in each other’s arms all night long.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>To Be Continued…</p>Kevin Paul Shaw Brodenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13987862091955836517noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3512695503179591731.post-28771868901037478622011-01-04T20:17:00.000-08:002011-04-26T17:31:46.928-07:00Chapter 13 – “A Ghost takes Flight”<style>p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal { margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; font-size: 12pt; font-family: Times; }div.Section1 { page: Section1; }</style> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center">REVENGE OF THE MASKED GHOST</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center">by Kevin Paul Shaw Broden</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center"><span style=""> </span>(Copyright 2011 Kevin Paul Shaw Broden)</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center">Chapter 13 – “A Ghost takes Flight”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>Donald Raymond was trapped. Police officers surrounded him, with their guns drawn and pointed at him. <i>This is madness</i><span style="font-style: normal;">, he thought. What was he doing here?</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>Less then twenty-four hours ago his brother-in-law Adrian died while wearing this mask and running about the city as the Masked Ghost. Now it looked like Donald was about to join him in the grave.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>He was here, and doing what he was doing, for his wife. It was for Margaret that he was risking everything to find out what happened to her brother.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“Now, you just stand there, fella. Don’t do anything harsh.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>Donald looked at the uniformed officer who was addressing him. He was young, clean-shaven. This was probably the most action the kid had seen since going the force. His brothers in blue looked grimmer, their hands much dirtier. He wondered why they were letting a boy take the lead. Could this be some type of initiation night? Though the boy might hesitate to fire, the others wouldn’t.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;">They might even have orders to kill the Masked Ghost.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>Right now, Donald Raymond was the Masked Ghost.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>He prayed a silent apology to his wife for having failed.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“Now, why don’t you just take that there mask off,” the young officer said. “Slowly like.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>He looked the boy in the eyes, and saw fear. Donald hardly felt a threat to anyone. Cautiously he raised his hands to his face. What could he do, attack police officers? How many had Adrian fought off?</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>At that moment there was movement and a sound beneath them. The drunk, the Masked Ghost had saved only moments ago, moaned loudly in his sleep. Only two of the officers turned at the noise, but it was all the time the vigilante needed to act.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“Watch out, he’s got a gun!” One of them shouted.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>The cold metal felt strange in Donald’s hand. <i>What am I doing?</i><span style="font-style: normal;"></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>The Masked Ghost pulled the trigger, and the grappling hook shot straight up in the air. A second later Donald felt his arm yank as the hook bit cement and took hold on the roof of the building. The flywheel began to pull him up.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>The cable yanked him upward and the Masked Ghost flew. In only a few seconds he was yards above them.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“Shoot him,” shouted one of the officers below, “damn you all. Shoot him!”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>Donald heard the guns blast below him and something whizzed past his ear.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>He panicked and his wild motion caused the cable to swing inward towards the building. Donald wanted to put his hands over his eyes, but was terrified he’d let go of the grappling gun. So he ducked his head and prayed that the wide brimmed hat and the mask would protect his face as he crashed through the glass window.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>The Masked Ghost hit the floor and rolled, the grappling gun flung from his hand as it was pulled back through the window and out of site as it continued to roll in the cable. He stood up to find a man and woman in their bed. Both were staring at him in utter horror.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“Get after him,” a shout could be heard from outside.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>Donald looked at the scared couple and could only shrug. “Excuse me, just taking a shortcut.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>He ran out of their bedroom door and down past the bathroom and kitchen through the living room. Only three locks on their door. They were concerned someone would break in. Now he was breaking out.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>Out in the hall he could here the heavy foot falls of the police running up the three flights of stairs. He thought of ducking back into the apartment. “That poor couple has been through enough.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>So he turned and heading in the opposite direction from the sound and up the stairs towards the floors above. The police were only a floor beneath him when the Masked Ghost reached the roof of the apartment building.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>He found the grappling gun clattered across the rocky surface, the cable looked like fishing line tangled up in the wheel. It would do him no good.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>The Masked Ghost felt for the heavy weight in his other pocket, but Donald didn’t want to draw forth the gun. He certainly had no intention of shooting at the police, but he knew they didn’t hold any such reservations.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>The police officers burst out through the roof door. This time the young office hung back, the others were mad and they were going to do the dirty work.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>Donald was terrified, but he had to do something, otherwise he’d be dead in a few short seconds. Backing away from the officers, his heal struck against the ledge of the building. One wrong move and he’d fall to the street below. He remembered what it was like to walk scaffolding of the high construction sites of the cities skyscrapers. This was nothing, but it would still kill him. With those memories in mind, a decision was made.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>The vigilante dove at the police officers. So startled no one could get off a shot, and if they had, might well strike one another. He knocked them aside as he ran.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“I’m sorry,” he said to the young officer as he pushed him back into the others and kept on running.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“Get him!” One of them shouted, but they were in each other’s way, all arms and legs.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>Donald wasn’t even thinking any more. He was running on pure adrenalin.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>The Masked Ghost reached the other side of the building and jumped.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>His coat billowed out behind him and he dove towards the building across the alleyway.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>To Be Continued…</p>Kevin Paul Shaw Brodenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13987862091955836517noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3512695503179591731.post-22102636632310902122010-12-21T22:32:00.000-08:002011-04-26T17:13:28.429-07:00Chapter 12 – “A Ghost on the Streets"<style>p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal { margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; font-size: 12pt; font-family: Times; }div.Section1 { page: Section1; }</style> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center">REVENGE OF THE MASKED GHOST</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center">by Kevin Paul Shaw Broden</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center"><span style=""> </span>(Copyright 2011 Kevin Paul Shaw Broden)</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center">Chapter 12 – “A Ghost on the Streets”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>The mask was uncomfortable; it was tight and chafed at the ears. It also distracted Donald’s peripheral vision.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>The Masked Ghost ran through the dark alleyway, the large trench coat billowed out behind him. His destination was only blocks away, and so far no one had seen him.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>Donald Raymond found it surprisingly easy to slip from one shadow covered doorways to the next. Watching to see if the street was clear, he darted across into another alley and along to the next block. Though there were more people on the streets this evening, the rainstorm of the night before was long past, they paid him little notice. With his face down, they didn’t even see the mask. They ignored the stranger moving about as long as he wasn’t approaching them. Their own little worlds of depression and torment were enough for them.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>Donald couldn’t help but think of his wife back at the penthouse and what torment she must be going through right now. He could picture her standing at the balcony window staring out at the city and wondering where he was at ever moment. Margaret knew his intention of playing the role of the Masked Ghost.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“Someone out there killed Adrian because he was the Masked Ghost,” she said with great concern.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“Right, and hopefully they believe they killed the Masked Ghost.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“But they could kill you too.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“I’m trusting they’ll be too startled by seeing a… er… ‘ghost’.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;">“What about the police, they’re intent on capturing the Masked Ghost.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“Well, I’ll just have to be extra careful not to let them catch me.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>He wasn’t as positive as he sounded, but Margaret knew he had to do this and ushered him to the back stairwell of the building.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>The Masked Ghost now crouched behind a dumpster looking across the street at the front of the building which was his target address, the offices of Shoelle Investments.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>The windows were dark. He hovered in his shadows for nearly twenty minutes before finally deciding it was as safe as it was going to ever get to make his move. Darting across the street, he dove behind a car parked just a few feet down from the door of the office he had been watching.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>Holding his breath, Donald noticed the stenciled sign on the door of the car. It was a logo that belonged to the <i>Spade Import/Export</i><span style="font-style: normal;"> </span><i>Company.</i><span style="font-style: normal;"> The very company the Masked Ghost had been investigating in relationship to Sheila’s murder.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“How exactly do you plan to get inside,” The sound of his wife’s questions were still in his ear and so clear that it felt like she was with him through the entire journey.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“Your brother apparently has done this before. He’s prepared for nearly every situation.” Donald answered her in his mind as the Masked Ghost knelt in the alcove of the office door and pulled out a small lock pick kit.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>Donald had no clue how to use these little rods of metal and wire; he was more accustomed to the hammer and welding torch. He looked at the lock and then at the case to make a decision of which exactly to use. Choosing a medium size pick the Masked Ghost put it to the lock and the door swung open.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“That's not good,” Donald said under his breath.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>Slipping the kit back into a pocket, the Masked Ghost moved soundlessly into the building. Someone could have left it unlocked by accident. <i>Not bloody likely</i><span style="font-style: normal;">, he thought to himself. Donald felt for the weight in his left pocket, and prayed he would not have to pull it out.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>Donald had no idea what he was looking for, yet the Masked Ghost moved through the building as if it was second nature. It was a financial and investment firm and so there were several desks, each immaculate and orderly, and behind them were multiple filing cabinets.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span><i>Where to start, where to start?</i><span style="font-style: normal;"> He thought to himself.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>The plan was to look for any file that identified itself as connected to the Spade company, as that seemed to be at the heart of the investigation. Finding nothing in the first set of filing cabinets he headed towards the other corner of the room. As he did so, something caught his eye.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>A loose sheet of paper lay on the floor just in the threshold of an inner doorway. Picking it up, the information printed on it was immaterial but it drew him forward. Inside the room, files were scattered everywhere, accounting books ripped open.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span><i>Someone else was looking for something</i><span style="font-style: normal;">. That part was obvious and they weren’t being as cautious as the Masked Ghost about not to leave evidence behind. He moved further in and saw that his competition was also far more fatal.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>Atop a pile of paperwork, a thin little man in suspenders lay dead. But only by a few minutes, his face was pummeled into ground beef and three of his fingers were bent in the wrong directions. Someone wanted <i>information </i><span style="font-style: normal;">and was willing to do anything to get it.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>Donald felt sick with the realization that as he waited, just outside, while this man was being tortured and killed. Standing up from the body, he paused at hearing a sound. He turned quickly and saw a shadow emerge from a closet. He couldn’t move fast enough as the figure shoved him against a desk. Dressed all in black, his face completely obscured, the unidentifiable man pulled out a knife and thrust it forward.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>The Masked Ghost blocked it with an accounting book and knocked the knife aside. The man paused only briefly, almost stunned.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“They said you were dead,” he said in a horse whisper.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>The Masked Ghost leaped up, but the stranger was gone. He had darted through the doorway and into the main office. Donald didn’t think as he found himself running after.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>The murderer was out the front before the Masked Ghost was half way across the room.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>Running outside, he was nearly blinded as the lights of the car came on with the sound of its engine.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>The car moved, but so did the Masked Ghost. He grabbed the handle of the passenger’s side door as his adversary hit the gas and took off with a squeal down the road.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>Donald didn’t know what he was doing, so held on for dear life. He felt as if he was being carried on a ride, not just the car but also in his own body. The Masked Ghost was in control and pulled the door open as the car picked up speed.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>The murderer wasn’t going to let this vigilante get inside, and so spun the wheel tightly and the Masked Ghost tumbled out as the car made a sharp turn at high speeds. Surely the noise the vehicle would awaken the entire neighborhood.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>The Masked Ghost rolled and came to a stop in a standing crouch. The car made a fast u-turn and was coming back around to make certain the vigilante was dead this time.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>There was only one chance for the Masked Ghost, and he had to time it right to be able to grab the driver as he sped past and not be killed in the process. That’s when things went out of control.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>Tim Barris was coming home late from a bar, having spent his last dime to get drunk and forget that he had been let go of his job of ten years earlier today. He wasn’t paying any attention to commotion on the road ahead.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>The Masked Ghost, however, saw Barris. He was ready to leap upon the car once more, but watched as the driver took the curve too wide and came up on the sidewalk. His eyes locked on the mystery man and cared little for anything or anyone that got in the way.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>Donald felt his legs start into a run, and the Masked Ghost leapt directly in front of the car grabbing hold of Barris and causing them both to tumble down into a set of basement stairs. </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“Oh, that’s going to hurt in the morning,” Donald said already feeling the bruise on his leg where he hit concrete. Checking the man under him, he found Barris out cold. More from the alcohol he could smell heavily on his breath than from being struck. The man would sleep it off and be ashamed for whatever he didn't remember happened to him during the night.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>Hearing the squeal of the car moving off into the distance, Donald climbed the stairs in hopes of catching what direction the murderer was heading.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“Hault!”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>The Masked Ghost found himself surrounded by the police, their guns all pointed at his head.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">To be continued.</p>Kevin Paul Shaw Brodenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13987862091955836517noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3512695503179591731.post-75593759735589077222010-12-07T19:38:00.001-08:002011-03-29T08:02:56.097-07:00Chapter 11 - “A Man For A Ghost”<style>p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal { margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; font-size: 12pt; font-family: Times; }div.Section1 { page: Section1; }</style> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center">REVENGE OF THE MASKED GHOST</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center">by Kevin Paul Shaw Broden</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center">(Copyright 2011 Kevin Paul Shaw Broden)</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center">Chapter 11 - “A Man For A Ghost”</p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>Margaret Raymond cleared the dinner plates from the table. With each plate she would glance at the journals and papers spread across the tabletop. They revealed so much about her brother and yet made him all the more a mystery.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“I still hate the fact we had to lie to Daddy,” she said.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“We have no choice. At least for now,” her husband Donald answered from the other room. “If it got out that Adrian was the Masked Ghost, your brother would be branded a criminal. The papers would read that he had died in the midst of committing a crime.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“But that’s not true,” she protested.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“Since when did that stop the presses from printing a scandalous headline? Not only would it destroy his memory, it would ruin your… our entire family. Would your father be able to handle that? What about your mother?”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“Oh, dear,” Margaret whispered, she hadn’t thought of that. Her mother had always been so very proud of her son the journalist, but also had a weak heart. A shock like this might very well kill her.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>After leaving the street scene out front Adrian’s apartment, they had driven Margaret’s friend Vivian home. The girl was quite shaken up by discovering the dead body, but now was to the point of being giddy about the whole thing as if it was an adventure and quite exciting. Margaret worried about what the girl’s dreams would be like tonight.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>Once home, Margaret prepared dinner while Donald spread out the journals and paperwork they had been able to get out of Adrian’s basement hideaway the night before. He laid things out by dates and locations.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>As they ate he would read from different journals, while his wife kept her brother’s diary close at hand. It was all she had of him now, and also held the heart of what may have started this whole terrible mess.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“According to this,” Donald put a finger down on a page of one of the journals and took a sip of his coffee, “Adrian, or rather The Masked Ghost, had intended to investigate the business offices of Showller Investments near Broadway and 54<sup>th</sup>.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“That’s only blocks from here,” Margaret shouted, realizing what that meant.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“May have been the last stop he intended to make before visiting us for dinner, and was shot either at that location or nearby. He was just close enough to make it here before he died.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>Margaret had her hands up to her face and was shaking as she remember holding her brother as the last breathe of life left him.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>Donald wrote the address down, and made notes of people who Adrain had connected to the location. If his brother-in-law was right, the Masked Ghost was close to tying this financial firm to the import/export company that owned the truck involved in Sheila’s death. He got up from the table and wondered what he was going to do with the information.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>When he gave his wife a kiss and headed into the bedroom Margaret knew a decision had been made and things were about to happen. To keep her mind focused she began to clear the table, most of her own meal left uneaten.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“What about that Police Detective Monroe?” She asked after her husband had been silent for several minutes and had remained in the bedroom. “He acted like he knew the truth.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“He knew something,” Donald responded, “Maybe the Masked Ghost had helped him at some point.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“That would be good,” she said with hope.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“Or he’s got a clue or an idea that Adrian is the Masked Ghost and was trying to get us to confirm it. Which I fear our expressions may have. It was obvious to him that the body had been moved.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“But why would he…?</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“I don’t know. Perhaps he had been searching for the Masked Ghost and his investigation lead to Adrian. It was obvious from talking with Detective Dobbs the other night that the police don’t like vigilantes. Maybe the cops had set a trap to snare the Masked Ghost. I don’t know. This is all speculation on my part, but maybe Monroe had discovered the truth and shot Adrian.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“Oh, God!” Margaret sobbed.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>Hearing his wife’s tears Donald tried to reassure her, “I’m not saying that’s what happened. I don’t know what happened, and I don’t know what this police officer thinks he knows. Maybe Cabbie will have some answers, but he only shows up when he wants to, strange little fellow. But for now we can’t trust the police, any of them.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“But… But Detective Monroe acted as if Adrian was still alive.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“No, not Adrian.<span style=""> </span>He acted as if the Masked Ghost is still alive.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>Margaret turned at the approaching sound of her husband’s voice.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“So for now,” he said, “we must keep the Masked Ghost alive.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>Margaret gasped, as emerging from their bedroom was a very much alive MASKED GHOST.</p>Kevin Paul Shaw Brodenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13987862091955836517noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3512695503179591731.post-20740279100179571932010-11-23T22:47:00.000-08:002011-03-29T08:00:42.591-07:00Chapter 10 - “A Body for a Ghost”<style>p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal { margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; font-size: 12pt; font-family: Times; }div.Section1 { page: Section1; }</style> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center">REVENGE OF THE MASKED GHOST</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center">by Kevin Paul Shaw Broden</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center">(Copyright 2011 Kevin Paul Shaw Broden)</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center">Chapter 10 - “A Body for a Ghost”</p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>The Packard Touring Car took the corner sharply and went faster than it was intended to, especially on the streets of Manhattan. Harris J. Brown refused to believe what his son-in-law had told him only minutes before.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>Donald Raymond held tightly to his seat as Brown sped down the road barely missing two pedestrians and a fruit stand. He hated having to tell his father-in-law that his son Adrian was dead, and really hated the fact that he was also lying about how it happened.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>Margaret and he had quickly worked up a story that morning. She had gone over to visit her brother with a friend only to find the door open and Adrian dead on the floor. They hoped Brown and the police would believe that a thief had shot his son. They couldn’t tell him that Adrian had been a masked vigilante.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>Ten minutes later they pulled on to the street of Adrian’s apartment. The road was crowded with onlookers wanting to know why police were coming in an out of the building. Two men in white smocks were carrying a gurney between them with an ominous shape beneath a sheet.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>Even before Donald could get his door open, Brown was out of the car and rushing toward the truck the men were loading the body in to.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“Damn you, out of the way. That’s my son, let me see!”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>He pushed one of the men aside and yanked back the sheet.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“Oh, Lord. What happened here,” he shouted, “who did this to my son?”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“That’s what we intend to find out, Mr. Brown.” He angrily turned and saw a police detective approaching him flashing a badge, “Police Detective Monroe.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“You know who I am?”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“Yes, I just got done speaking with your daughter and her friend. They had the terrible experience of finding the body.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>Donald had joined his wife who looked more concerned than frightened. Her friend Vivian, on the other hand, was shaking with terror. Margaret hugged her husband.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“How are you,” He asked her as they made eye contact. She was more upset for having to lie to her father and friend than the death of her brother. After all she had over twelve hours to deal with that all ready.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“I’m surviving.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“Who would do such a thing to Adrian,” Vivian said through tear-chocked breaths, “he was always so nice.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“I’m sure the police will figure it out,” Donald tried to reassure her.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“Oh, yes, the police,” Margaret said as if it was a forgotten thought, “that’s Detective Monroe talking with daddy. We should ask if there is anything else we can do.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>They approached her father and the detective and found them in deep discussion.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“They need to take the body to the coroner to complete their report,” Monroe was trying to lead Brown away without much success.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“I will not allow my son to be further molested after everything that has happened.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“Sorry sir, but I must insist.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“Do you know who I am,” Brown rose himself up to face the policeman.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“You’re a father grieving over the loss of his son. That’s all you are to me.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;">Brown growled at the detective, but the fire was going out of his belly.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;">“Daddy, please!” Margaret came up to her father. “Don’t make this any worse. It’s going to be hard enough telling Mommy what happened without you getting arrested.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;">Brown looked at his daughter and he seemed to shrink several inches, she was right of course. He was going about this the wrong way.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;">“Raymond,” he shouted at his son-in-law, trying to stoke that fire once more and handed over the keys to the Packard, “get my daughter away from this horrible place. I’m going with Adrian.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;">“Daddy?”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;">“No argument out of you young lady, and don’t say anything to your mother. I’ll tell her,” his voice fell to a whisper and then climbed into the truck, next to the body of his son.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;">Seeing that made Margaret cry again, but she held it in as the Police Detective turned to them.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;">“Mr. Raymond,” Monroe addressed Donald, “may I speak with you and your wife for a moment.” His tone was clear.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;">“Vivian, would you mind waiting for us in the car,” Donald said to the distraught girl who only nodded and headed for the Packard.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;">There were several people on the street that lived in the apartment building, and they were all staring at them. The Detective saw that and lead the couple to a more secluded location.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;">“You’re brother died sometime last night,” Monroe informed them, looking up from his notebook and putting it away.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;">“Yes?” Donald asked.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;">“His neighbors are rather closed lipped. They’re good at keeping secrets, but did say he was visited by a couple late last night.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;">Donald and Margaret exchanged glances.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;">“A young couple much like yourselves.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;">“We were at home…” Margaret realized she had snapped a little too quickly, and the Detective recognized it.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;">“Yes you were. I had one of my men call back to the precinct and found that you were being visited by some of my fellow offices about the same time. A break in, I understand?”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;">“That’s correct,” Donald covered for his wife, “a man had gotten into our apartment but was gone by the time the police arrived.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;">“Gone from your penthouse apartment?”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;">“Yes,” they knew he didn’t believe them.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;">“Well, it does provide you with an alibi.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;">“Why would we need an alibi?” Margaret said, she was getting scared again.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;">“You wouldn’t Mrs. Raymond, but I believe the body was moved.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;">“Moved? How would the body have been moved?” Donald asked now sounding worried.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;">“For one thing,” the Detective looked at him, “there wasn’t enough blood for someone who had died that way. He bled out someplace else.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;">“Oh, God,” Margaret whispered.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;">“I should put this into my report,” Monroe looked at them both, and saw their fear growing.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;">“Of course you should, Detective,” Donald was trying to act strong, “there was a crime committed.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;">“I should put it in my report,” the Detective repeated, “but he wouldn’t approve.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;">“He?” Margaret looked up at him.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;">“Who wouldn’t approve?” Donald asked.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;">A razor thin smile grew across the Detective’s serious face.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;">“The Masked Ghost.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;">They were both stunned by the worlds.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;">“Go home Mr. and Mrs. Raymond. The day is only beginning.” With that he turned and walked back to his men leaving the couple frozen in shock.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;">To Be Continued…</p>Kevin Paul Shaw Brodenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13987862091955836517noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3512695503179591731.post-32329510552042077712010-11-09T13:51:00.000-08:002011-03-22T17:42:49.950-07:00CHAPTER 9 "A Ghost, The Day After"<style>p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal { margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; font-size: 12pt; font-family: Times; }div.Section1 { page: Section1; }</style> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center">“REVENGE OF THE MASKED GHOST”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center">by Kevin Paul Shaw Broden</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; line-height: 200%;" align="center">(Copyright 2011 Kevin Paul Shaw Broden)</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; line-height: 200%;" align="center">Chapter 9 - “A Ghost, the Day After”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“I just cannot believe it.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“What’s that dear,” Margaret Randolph asked her friend Vivian Caldwell who sat across the table just inside the front of the small café overlooking the park.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“How New York is basically this big island.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“Well, Manhattan is.” Margaret corrected, but Vivian went on.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“But it’s still an island and all those immigrants keep coming. You’d think the place would be full by now.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>Margaret shook her head, was her friend really that dumb?</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“Hey, you don’t think New York might sink if it gets too heavy?”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>Yep, she’s that dumb.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>As silly as this conversation was getting, Mrs. Randolph was glad for it. It was a breather from the strange, horrific world she had suddenly been thrust into. Only the evening before had she discovered that her brother Adrian was the costumed vigilante the Masked Ghost and then held him in her arms as he died.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>It was nearly one in the morning when she and her husband made it home from Adrian’s apartment and the secrets that were hidden there. Once they were inside the penthouse and she saw the blood stained floor once more, Margaret began to shake.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“What are we going to do, Don? What are we going to do?”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“We’re going to carry on, dear. We’re going to carry on. We must, for Adrian, and most of all for ourselves. We have to live.” He held her in his arms.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“Then we’re going to find out who did this,” he said as her body went limp. She had passed out from exhaustion.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>Margaret woke the next morning to the sun shining through the window. It took a moment to realize where she was; the sun didn’t usually come into the bedroom like that. Turning her head she realized that this was the guest bedroom. Donald must have put her in here when she fell asleep. The sleep, the dreamless sleep, had done her a world of good. She remembered everything from the night before, but now felt like she could face it all. </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>She got up and washed her face in the guest bathroom and began searching for her husband. Margaret found him on his hands in knees scrubbing away the last of the bloodstains from the marble floor. His eyes were red and swollen.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“Oh, Donald, you didn’t have to do that,” she knelt beside him.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“I had to Maggy,” he replied, pouring bleach into the cracks between the marble slabs, “for you.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;">She took his scrub brush and put it aside, then held him tight as he had held her the night before.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>Margaret found that he had already cleaned up the bedroom.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“You’re going to have to go shopping for some new clothes,” he tried to sound light hearted, “I gathered everything that had blood on it and took it down to the incinerator.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“Oh, honey, you’ve been up all night,” she felt for him, “you need to get some sleep.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“Can’t. I have to get to work. There’s a major meeting, and your father’s going to be there.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“Oh,” she knew how Donald always feared he’d do something wrong and look bad in her father’s eyes.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“And we’ve both got another appointment to make later in the day,” he said grimly.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>Donald got a shower and headed off to work, and Margaret called up one of her society friends to have lunch. Which brought her mind back to the present. </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“I don’t think you have to worry about the island of Manhattan sinking, Vivian.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“I guess you’re right,” her friend said with a smile, “what would happen to Macy’s bargain basement?”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>Both women started laughing at that. It was good to laugh.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;">The laughter died in Margaret’s throat as she looked through the window and saw the taxicab parked at the curb. Looking in at her was the Cabbie she had met the night before. The Cabbie who had helped them move her brother’s body. He stood there next to his vehicle and nodded firmly. She knew what that meant; it was time to go.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“You know,” Margaret said as she put her napkin on the table, “speaking of Macy’s reminds me that I need a new set of clothes for the coming season. Actually, I need a whole closet full. Let’s go shopping.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>Vivian, one never to miss a shopping trip was on her feet in seconds, “let’s.” She didn't question once that there was a taxi already waiting for them, or that Margaret didn’t tell the driver their destination.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>It wasn’t until they had driven several blocks did she realize something was wrong.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“This isn’t the right direction for the stores,” Vivian said looking out the window.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>Margaret exaggerated the turning of her head to look around at the neighborhood they were entering.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“Hey, you’re right. Wait a minute, we’re not too far away from my brother’s apartment.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“You’re brother Adrian?” Vivian said excitedly.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“I only have one brother,” Margaret said soberly, realizing she didn’t even have that now. “Why don’t we stop and say hello. Driver, pull over here and stop please.” She hoped her friend hadn’t noticed the car was already slowing down out front the apartment building.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“Should we be disturbing him?” Vivian asked as they stepped from the cab and headed for the front door of the building, “I’ve heard writers like to work late and sleep in.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“Oh, I’m sure Adrian’s already hard at work on his latest expose,” Margaret was forcing herself to sound positive and joyful, “he’ll be happy to see us.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“You really think so?”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>They walked up the stairs and then along the hall to her brother’s apartment. Margaret hated doing this to her friend. She knew Vivian had a crush on Adrian when they were younger. This was going to be so very cruel, but they needed an “innocent” to witness what had to happen next.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>Vivian played the role perfectly.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>The door to the apartment was slightly ajar, (just as they had left it the night before.)</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“Adrian, are you decent?” Margaret said sounding a whole lot more jovial than she felt as she pushed the door open.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>There before them lay the body of Adrian Brown. His shirt stained dark with blood.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>Vivian screamed.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; line-height: 200%;" align="center">###</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>Across town, Donald stood looking out the window of his twenty-fourth floor office. More then once he wondered about the men who had built the building. Did he know any of them, had he ever worked with any of them? They worked so hard to build such buildings so business men could work inside them. Donald felt odd that he had once been in the one world and was now in the other.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>He also thought of his brother-in-law who lay dead only miles away. Last night Margaret had told him that Adrian had been interested in learning about what it was like to walk along the beams of a skyscraper construction dozens of floors above street level. They presumed that it was for a magazine article about the men who were helping to build Manhattan, but now Donald wondered if it was something else entirely. It wasn’t Adrian Brown who was asking, it was the Masked Ghost who wanted to learn about walking the difficult edges of a building without falling to his death. He wanted to learn, to train, for what he would have to do.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>Donald put his hand to the glass window and looked down at the few inches of cement facade just outside, hardly enough to place a foot on and stand. Had Adrian ever stood out there in his pursuit of his own form of justice?</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“It’s a marvelous site, isn’t it,” came a voice from behind him.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>Donald turned to find Harris J. Brown standing in the office doorway. It was his boss, and Margaret and Adrian’s father.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“Yes, it is.” Donald answered as his father-in-law joined him at the window, “The city is extremely beautiful.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“Oh, the city, of course,” Brown didn’t really agree, “I see a city full of people down there.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>Donald didn’t quite know what to think of that. It wasn’t long ago that he was one of those ‘people down there.’</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“They all work very hard to survive and make a living.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“True. But there are those who seek to destroy and force themselves on the lives of others.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“I never forced myself upon Margaret, and I never asked for this job. If I haven’t been doing well for you then tell me outright and don’t insult people you don’t know.” Donald snapped unintentionally.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>It had been like walking on eggshells around Margaret’s father ever since they were married. Sure, he gave him this job, and a good job it was, but it was more of a way to keep an eye on him so he couldn’t do anything wrong or cause harm to the man’s daughter. But with everything that had happened in the last day, Donald could no long keep quiet.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>Brown stared down at the younger man. <i>You dare talk back to me?</i><span style="font-style: normal;"> But that wasn’t it at all.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“My daughter… my children mean the world to me. I only want what’s best for them.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“I understand sir. Margaret means everything to me. And I will do everything in my power to protect her.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>After a moment, Brown finally spoke, “yes, I believe you would.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>Where the conversation would have gone from there they would never know for the desk phone buzzed.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“Mr. Randolf, your wife is on the phone,” Donald’s secretary said through the speaker, “and if I may say sir. She sounds upset.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>Donald waited as Margaret’s voice came on the line. What was said had been planned out this morning for the ears of whoever was listening on both sides. Even having her father in the room had been part of the plan.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“Honey, I’m busy right now. Can this wait… Oh.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>He glanced at his father-in-law who was staring back waiting for Donald to say one wrong word to his daughter.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>Donald reached for the arm of his chair and fell back into, a little over exaggerated motion perhaps.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“God, that’s terrible,” he said just loud enough, “I’ll be there as soon as I can.” And then in an unscripted after thought, “Maggy, I love you.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>He hung up the phone, and silently stared at it.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“Tell me, man. What’s wrong? What’s happened to my daughter?”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>After another moment of silence Donald spoke.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“Not your daughter, sir. It’s your son,” he looked up at his father-in-law. “Adrian is dead.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">To be continued…</p>Kevin Paul Shaw Brodenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13987862091955836517noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3512695503179591731.post-20987609485627347822010-11-02T15:42:00.000-07:002011-03-15T18:09:18.647-07:00Chapter 8 - “Birth of a Ghost”<style>p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal { margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; font-size: 12pt; font-family: Times; }p.MsoBodyTextIndent, li.MsoBodyTextIndent, div.MsoBodyTextIndent { margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%; font-size: 12pt; font-family: Times; font-style: italic; }div.Section1 { page: Section1; }</style> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center">“REVENGE OF THE MASKED GHOST”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center">by Kevin Paul Shaw Broden</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; line-height: 200%;" align="center">(Copyright 2011 Kevin Paul Shaw Broden)</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; line-height: 200%;" align="center">Chapter 8 - “Birth of a Ghost”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>There was only one chair in the dark underground lair of the vigilante known as The Masked Ghost. So Donald leaned against the table as his wife Margaret sat and read from the journal.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“This is Adrian’s handwriting,” Margaret said, “It looks like these pages were ripped out of his personal diary. Some of them have been cut apart and pasted together to keep the subject consistent.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; line-height: 200%;" align="center">- - -</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span><i>While interviewing James Bruster and his wife this evening I was introduced to their lovely daughter Sheila. </i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><i>I hope to meet here again.</i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; line-height: 200%;" align="center"><i>- - -</i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><i><span style=""> </span>It took some convincing but Sheila Bruster finally said she would go out with me.</i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; line-height: 200%;" align="center"><i>- - -</i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><i><span style=""> </span>I think she had a good time tonight. Was surprised that Sheila seemed to know so many people at the restaurant. Sheila does a lot of work for her father, and introduced me to several of his work associates. They’d all make interesting magazine articles.</i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><i><span style=""> </span>Had a wonderful evening with Sheila. She’s the most fascinating and yet mysterious woman I’ve ever met.</i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; line-height: 200%;" align="center"><i>- - -</i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><i><span style=""> </span>This train ride home is taking too long. Got my interviews with the movie studio producers and have already written the first draft of the story, but all I can think about is getting back to Sheila.</i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><i><span style=""> </span>Am really thinking of asking Sheila to marry me.</i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; line-height: 200%;" align="center"><i>- - -</i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><i><span style=""> </span>Going to have to write and sell two new books to pay for it, but I just bought the perfect ring for Sheila. Now praying she likes it.</i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; line-height: 200%;" align="center"><i>- - -</i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><i><span style=""> </span>She said YES! Oh, God, she said yes. Sheila wants to marry me.</i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; line-height: 200%;" align="center"><i>- - -</i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><i><span style=""> </span>Sheila seems nervous, but that’s understandable. We’re going over to her parent’s house to work on the wedding plans tonight.</i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; line-height: 200%;" align="center"><i>- - -</i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><i><span style=""> </span>OH MY GOD OH MY GOD! She’s dead. Sheila’s dead.</i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; line-height: 200%;" align="center"><i>- - -</i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><i><span style=""> </span></i><span style="font-style: normal;">Margaret paused in her reading and looked up at her husband.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“I remember him calling us. He was such a mess after the accident.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;">“You were at his hospital bedside for days,” Donald replied with an understanding and caring heart.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;">“He was pretty banged up, but I think his heart was wounded the worst. Adrian kept saying he wished he had died instead of Sheila,” Margaret said remembering those nights she sat up with her brother.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;">“I can understand that,” Donald said, “My life wouldn’t be worth living if anything ever happened to you.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;">She knew her husband meant it, and saw him holding back the tears that such a thought brought to him.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;">After a moment Margaret turned the page and started reading again.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;" align="center">- - -</p> <p class="MsoBodyTextIndent">The police say it was an accident, or that Sheila and I weren’t paying attention. They’re blaming us for it. They’re blaming me for her death. They refuse to listen to me when I tell them about the truck that ran us off the road into the ditch and killed Sheila.</p> <p class="MsoBodyTextIndent" style="text-align: center;" align="center">- - -</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><i><span style=""> </span>The police are no longer taking my phone calls. Sheila’s parents won’t talk with me either. They were polite at the funeral but it was clear they didn’t like having me there. They blame me for their daughter’s death.</i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; line-height: 200%;" align="center"><i>- - -</i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><i><span style=""> </span>My editor tried to get me to focus on my magazine assignments, but I just can’t concentrate. All I can think about is that terrible night, and that truck chased us down the road and caused Sheila’s death.</i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; line-height: 200%;" align="center"><i>- - -</i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><i><span style=""> </span>I have to do something, or I am going to go mad.</i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; line-height: 200%;" align="center"><i>- - -</i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><i><span style=""> </span>Have walked the entire distance of road. From the turn off towards the Bruster’s home to where I first spotted the truck, to where our car was forced off the road, and then on to the bridge over the river. There’s a side street there that loops back on to the main road. There aren’t many other intersections and connecting roads. There is a series of warehouses and a storage yard…</i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; line-height: 200%;" align="center"><i>- - -</i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><i><span style=""> </span>The yard and the warehouses belong to The Spade Import and Export Company. I told the yard boss that I wanted to do an expose on small local companies but he wouldn’t hear it. Apparently someone doesn’t like a magazine writer snooping around the property. I politely thanked them for their time, but was still forcibly escorted to the road by ‘security guards’ who weren’t afraid to wave their guns in my direction. I don’t know what’s going on there, but there is one thing that I do know: THE TRUCK was on the grounds of the storage yard.</i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;"><i>They can now identify me, so am going to have to pursue a different line of investigation.</i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;" align="center"><i>- - -</i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><i><span style=""> </span>The police still are not interested in hearing what I have to say. Even when I told them I had found the truck. The lead detective, Sergeant William Dodd, took me aside and told me to drop it. DROP IT!</i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; line-height: 200%;" align="center"><i>- - -</i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><i><span style=""> </span>I took a walk around the block and came back home having made a decision.</i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; line-height: 200%;" align="center"><i>- - -</i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><i><span style=""> </span>Adrian Brown will drop it! He will get on with his life and work. He will let it go so that another can pick up the investigation and go where he cannot go. It must be someone who can move unseen and unnoticed, who will go places that Brown cannot. Someone who will go where the police cannot, or will not go.</i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><i><span style=""> </span>This is something that can only be done by a GHOST.</i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; line-height: 200%;" align="center">- - -</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“The diary entries end there,” Margaret said to her husband, “there are small little notes with numbers and letters next to different parts of it. I don’t know what they mean. The rest of the journal is typed and doesn’t read at all like Adrian. It’s more like a clinical examination of the events.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>Donald contemplated that and the codes he had seen on other pages, photographs, and maps, and had a pretty good idea of what it meant. He looked at his watch.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“It’s getting pretty late. We better get on home so no one can tie us to discovering Adrian upstairs.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>Margaret closed the journal and stood from her chair and looked across the room, “what are we going to do now?”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“I’m not certain,” he turned and saw her looking toward the rack of clothing the Masked Ghost wore, “but I have a few ideas.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">To be continued…</p>Kevin Paul Shaw Brodenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13987862091955836517noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3512695503179591731.post-78868319915183981002010-10-19T20:04:00.000-07:002011-03-15T18:09:51.059-07:00Chapter 7 - "Clues to a Ghost"<style>p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal { margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; font-size: 12pt; font-family: Times; }div.Section1 { page: Section1; }</style> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center">“REVENGE OF THE MASKED GHOST”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center">by Kevin Paul Shaw Broden</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center">(Copyright 2011 Kevin Paul Shaw Broden)</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center">Chapter 7 – “Clues to a Ghost”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>What windows there were in this basement room had been painted over so that none could see into the hidden lair of The Masked Ghost.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>Margaret and her husband Donald Randolf found themselves enraptured with curiosity as they explored the hideout of the vigilante she had only hours before discovered to be her brother and who now laid dead several feet above their heads.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>But down here Adrian Brown didn’t exist; there was only The Masked Ghost.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>Here were the secrets he had kept from them, from the world. Everything seemed so chaotic in this cold dungeon chamber, and yet the more they explored they found order in everything.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>Finally the couple looked to one another.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“What are we suppose to do with all this?” Margaret asked.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“He wanted us to find his killer.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“But how?”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“He directed us to come here. Cabbie knew we had to come here. So there must be clues in all this,” he gestured to everything around them, “Seemed quite certain we’d be able to find the answer.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“But what if we can’t?”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“We will, honey,” he hugged her, “we must.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>Margaret looked about her. “Where do we start?”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>Donald moved to the table and the wall hangings, “these are rather impressive blueprints. Maybe he thought I could make something out of them. Why don’t you look through those journals? Maybe you’ll see something only a sister could.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>He watched as his wife went over to the shelves of books and pulled one down. Margaret was trying to be strong but Donald knew she was hurting on the inside.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>Looking down at the paperwork before, Donald sorted through sheets of notes. Adrian was obviously a stickler for order and research; he had his very own form of the Dewey Decimal System. Each sheet of paper had markings at the top corner, whether they were news clippings, photographs, city documents, or his own hand written notes. Through the pages were references using those letters and number that cited other pages in his collection. Here was a location, here a photo of that location. Here a news article about a gang land killing, here the bios of each victim and the suspects, and even the police involved in the investigations.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>Donald turned to blueprints. They were of a building that would dwarf the Empire State Building, and having worked on it this struck Donald’s pride. He hadn’t heard of any such building, but then he had been away from construction for some time now and lost contact with most of the men he had worked with. Again he realized how different a world he lived in now. He loved Margaret deeply and was starting to feel like part of her family, but it was so different from world he had come from.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>He shuffled through more pages, and came across a list of names.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“I know some of these men,” he said quite surprised.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>He dug through a pile of photographs and found the codes that matching names on the list.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>The first that he recognized was Herbert J. Wolf of the architectural firm of Salmon, Wolf, and Dallas. The firm’s name was stamped on the blue prints. Donald’s construction company had once put a bid in with them, but they weren’t willing to pay what he asked.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>Next was Philip Eken’s of the city’s development agency. Donald hadn’t worked with him but knew he had replaced their government go to man back from when he was working.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>The third was Jacob Saul who was currently leading a unionization battle of several construction sites. Donald had nothing against the labor movement, but didn’t like Saul’s tactics when he approached their company. </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>Beneath Saul’s name and description was listed Petras Nikolas who had worked for Donald before he got married. The man’s family had emigrated from Greece. Not only was he a good worked, he understood running the company. So Donald expected the man to do quite well for himself.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>There was a hand written note next to Nikolas’ name. ‘Must find a way to ask Donald about him.’</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>But his brother-in-law never did get the chance to ask him about his former colleague. Now Donald wondered exactly what Adrian had been thinking.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>He kept reading through the names and descriptions. There were a lot of other names he knew vaguely from the construction industry, but a lot more he had no idea who they were. But there was one that he knew, not personally or from business, but a name that had gotten more press then the ‘The Masked Ghost.’ Joe ‘Crackers’ Castella a local mob boss the police hadn’t been able to pin anything on but the press loved to talk about. Beneath ‘Crackers’ name was a hand written note: <i>Needs to be taken care of, but not connected to primary investigation.</i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;">For the next hour he read through all the notes related to the planned Wolf building and the associated names. It was too much. Donald worried that all this was part of another novel Adrian was writing, but he knew too much about the underpinnings of the New York construction trade just to be making it up.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“Dear,” Margaret spoke, but had to say it a second and then a third time before Donald finally looked at her. He had been so deep into his thoughts.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“Think I found something,” she held up a red binder different from the rest, “It’s Adrian’s journal… or I guess, the Masked Ghost’s journal about Sheila’s death.”</p>Kevin Paul Shaw Brodenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13987862091955836517noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3512695503179591731.post-13727683536546009022010-10-12T18:43:00.000-07:002011-03-15T18:10:14.866-07:00Chapter 6 - "Home for a Ghost"<style>p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal { margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; font-size: 12pt; font-family: Times; }div.Section1 { page: Section1; }</style> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center">“REVENGE OF THE MASKED GHOST”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center">by Kevin Paul Shaw Broden</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center">(Copyright 2011 Kevin Paul Shaw Broden)</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center">Chapter 6 – “Home for a Ghost”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“Do not move,” said the man holding the gun on Donald and Margaret Randolf. Slowly he got out from behind the wheel of the taxicab and came around to them.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>Donald wondered if he could move fast enough to take this man before a shot could be fired. Fearing for his wife’s safety, he thought it best to stay still and find out what was going on.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>Margaret stood there frozen; she had no idea what this strange man wanted, her only thoughts were of her brother Adrian.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>Keeping the gun pointed on them, the taxicab driver looked about in all directions but there was no one around. The storm had chased everyone into the surrounding buildings. After being certain they were along he gestured at the rolled up rug leaning against the wall.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“Is that him?” He asked. Margaret looked where they had put her brother’s body. She felt sick, and looked back to her husband.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“We’ve done what you asked,” Donald said maintaining a tone of control. “Who are you? What do you want?”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>The driver looked at him, thought for moment, and then lowered the gun.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“I am sorry for the theatrics Mr. and Mrs. Randolf, but I had to be careful.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“You know who we are?” Margaret asked, scared.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“Yes, but we have to move now. The Masked Ghost must go home,” and he moved towards the rug.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“Stay away from my brother,” she responded.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“Ma’am, I mean no disrespect to you or your family, but we must get him away from here.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>Donald gave his wife a reassuring glance, that he hoped would get her to relax, then moved past her before he could tell if it worked. He lifted the rug wrapped body and carried it towards the taxi. The driver had already opened the trunk and Donald laid the rug inside. </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;">“Sorry about this buddy,” he said closing the lid.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“Now, please, we must go.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>Donald didn’t have to encourage his wife to get into the taxicab; she was going wherever her brother was going.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>Once in, the taxi pulled out on to the main road and turned left heading north. About six blocks later it turned left again. Three blocks later a right, and then a left again.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“This isn’t the way to Adrian’s apartment,” Margaret said.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“It is if you do not want to be followed.” Answered the man behind the wheel.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>Donald glanced out the back window. Who would be following them? The police? The killer? Someone else?</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>He leaned forward towards the driver, “You said you knew us, Mr.—“</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>The driver snapped up his visor so his I.D. wasn’t visible, “Call me Cabbie. That’s what the boss man calls me. Of course I know the both of you. I’ve driven you to work numerous times sir, and drove the Mrs. to Macy’s twice this week.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“You’ve driven us before? I don’t recognize you,” Margaret asked.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“Comes with the job, no one remembers their taxi driver,” he said with a smirk in his rearview mirror. “It was something that made the boss man happy.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“The boss man? You mean the Masked Ghost,” Donald was figuring it out.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“You work for my brother?”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“I work for the Allied Taxi Service, but when the Masked Ghost calls I’m there for him.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“Why?”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“Lets just say I owe him a debt I’ll never be able to repay.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“And you became his personal driver.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“That’s right, and running errands when needed, and a few other things.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“Like what?”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“Keeping an eye on you two.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“Why would Adrian want you to watch us?” Margaret asked.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“The Masked Ghost has many enemies.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>A moment later, the taxi pulled into the alley behind Adrian Brown’s apartment.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>Cabbie helped Donald carry the rug role into the back of the building and on into Adrian’s ground floor apartment while Margaret stood watch at the corner of the alleyway. The storm had cleared the streets in this part of town. It was drizzling now, but she paid it little notice. Margaret hadn’t visited her brother’s apartment very often, but standing here now she realized just how different the neighborhood was from her Park Avenue penhouse world.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>A few minutes later her husband whistled for her to join them, and she found herself in the doorway of her brother’s small apartment. Adrian once told her he didn’t need much of a place since he was always traveling, chasing his stories across the globe. Now it looked very empty except for dozens of books, scattered magazines, and an old typewriter on the kitchen table with piles of manuscripts.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>She watched as her husband and the Cabbie unrolled the rug letting Adrian’s body lay on the floor.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“Now remove everything of the Masked Ghost from him,” the Cabbie ordered. Donald obeyed simply because he didn’t know what else to do. This strange taxi driver knew far more than they did.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>Margaret knelt down to help her husband remove the mask and outer over coat from her brother. They also remove his double-breasted suit coat containing the guns.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>Once he was dressed only in his pants and blood stained shirt, they stood and looked at the Cabbie for what to do now.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“Tomorrow you will come by to visit your brother and find him here. That’s when you call the police.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“But we can’t just leave him—“ Margaret spoke, but her husband squeezed her hand to reassure her.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“You seem to have this planned out,” Donald asked.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“Not I, sir,” and he nodded down at the body, “The Masked Ghost still has much unfinished business.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>Donald looked the Cabbie in the eye and an unspoken understanding passed between them.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“I’ll dispose of the rug,” The Cabbie said as he picked it up and turned for the door.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“What do we do with these clothes? The mask and guns?” Margaret asked, feeling useless.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“Through there,” the Cabbie indicated an inner door opposite the bedroom, and almost hidden from the front door, which he closed behind him and was gone.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>The couple looked at one another uncertain what to do next, then down at Adrian.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>Donald knelt briefly and adjusted the position of the body, “This should make it look like he was shot by someone at the door. There was a knock, he answered the door and then was shot.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“But that’s not what happened.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“Do you want the killing tied back to us? Do you want the police to discover that he’s the Masked Ghost?”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“No, but--”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“Right. Me neither, but we have to protect him somehow.” Donald reached in his pocket and pulled out the ring of keys. He had no trouble identifying the one for the apartment door, so now he had to figure out the rest. The inner door appeared to be a closet, except that there were two locks. After several tries he matched both with keys on the ring. The door opened.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“Bring the clothes,” he told his wife and stepped through the opening. It was dark, and he could just make out a sidewall was missing and the edge of the floor dropping away into darkness a couple feet from the door. Looking about he found a pull chain, which turned on a single light bulb overhead. The new illumination revealed a wooden staircase, which appeared to be hand made, and descended down through what would have been the closet’s floor.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“Follow me, but watch your step,” Donald said as he took the first steps. Having formerly worked in construction, he was surprised at the quality of the work, and that the stepped didn’t creak beneath his weight.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>A second bulb at the bottom lit up along with the first; reaching it he took Margaret’s hand to help her down the final steps while carrying the bundle of clothes. </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“Where are we?” She asked.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“It looks like he built the stairs himself to go down into the basement. There’s another door here. Let me try another key.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>As he opened this door, they heard the one above them swing closed.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“We’re trapped,” Margaret nearly shrieked.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“No, I don’t think so,” Donald reached to the top hinge at the door in front of him. A cable was attached to it and ran diagonally up the wall of the stairwell, “Adrian must have wanted to be certain the door above was closed once he came down here, and the same when he went back up.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“Why?”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“Let’s find out,” Donald said reaching his hand into the darkness beyond the door. Along the edge of the wall he found a switch box. Multiple lights came on around the room.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“Oh my God,” Margaret said, it didn’t take long for her to realize what this room was.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>There was a table in the center of the room, with paperwork laid out. A chalkboard stood on one side, and corkboard on the other. There were maps of the city and blueprints of different buildings attached to open wall space. The chalkboard was written up full of notes; at the top were two time lines. One line made out in days, and another in hours of one of those days. On the pegboard were news clippings, police blotters, and mug shots of criminal suspects as well as street level candid photos of some of the same and others. Against one wall was a bookshelf filled, not just with books and phone directories, but also a dozen or more journals and notebooks. Next to that was a police band radio.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“I don’t think we need to worry about his clothes anymore,” Margaret said stepping further into the room. A wheeled clothing rack stood to one side. At least half a dozen suits and overcoats hung from the rack, and just as many hats sat on a table next to it. Beyond the clothes was the weapon’s cabinet.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;">“The Masked Ghost was ready for anything.”</p>Kevin Paul Shaw Brodenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13987862091955836517noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3512695503179591731.post-28642948588144271292010-10-05T16:07:00.000-07:002011-03-08T21:05:19.263-08:00Chapter 5 – “Phone Call a Ghost”<style>p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal { margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; font-size: 12pt; font-family: Times; }div.Section1 { page: Section1; }</style> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center">“REVENGE OF THE MASKED GHOST”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center">by Kevin Paul Shaw Broden</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center">(Copyright 2011 Kevin Paul Shaw Broden)</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center">Chapter 5 – “Phone Call a Ghost”</p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>Why had they lied to the police?</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>Why had Adrian hidden from the police?</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>Why had he been running around town masquerading as a vigilante ghost?</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>Who had shot him? And why?</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>Donald Randolf picked off each question as he fingered one key after another around the ring Adrian had given him before dying, like rosary beads. None of the keys provided answers to his questions. Most of all the answer to the most pressing question: What were they going to do now?</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>For more then half an hour his wife Margaret cradled the head of her dead brother. Tears finally subsided and she laid him back on the bed and stood.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>She looked at her husband and he looked at her. Neither spoke as both had the same questions and no answers to provide the other.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>They both jumped at the sound of the phone from the other room.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“What do we do?” Panic filled their eyes. The phone rang again.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“I suppose we answer the phone.” He took her hand and headed for the phone in the front all. It was a good excuse to take her away from the body.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“Hello? Randolph residence,” he said politely. It had taken Donald some time to sound like the ‘upper crust’ that he had married into. He wasn’t comfortable in it, but he loved Margaret so tried very hard. It was better than his normal answer of ‘What?’</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>A man’s voice with a rough accent spoke.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“Is Mr. Adrian Brown there? May I speak to him?”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>Donald’s blood froze and he looked at his wife in horror. He finally found his voice and answered, “No, I’m sorry. He’s no longer here.” Then cursed himself for admitted that Adrian had been here.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>Margaret shook in fear. Who would have called for her brother here? Now?</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>There was a long pause; Donald could hear traffic sounds in the distance. Whoever this caller is, was on the street, possibly at a pay phone. He glanced towards the window fearing that the stranger was just outside the building.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“Hello, are you still there?” Donald asked and wished he had just hung up.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>Finally the voice spoke again, this time deeper, colder.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“The Masked Ghost must walk.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>Good God, Donald thought, he knows.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“Who is this?”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>Another silence and then.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“All your questions will be answered, Mr. Randolf. But first the Masked Ghost must travel. The Masked Ghost must walk.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“How exactly can a ghost walk?” Donald was getting upset and regretted his words at the site of his wife’s horror filled face.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“There is a back entrance to your building,” the voice came again, “The Masked Ghost must descend. I will be waiting for him.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“What? We can’t do that. We can’t move a—People will see--.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>The line went dead. The stranger had hung up. The empty sound echoed through the phone. Donald held on a moment longer before putting the handset into the cradle.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“Who was that?”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“I don’t know, but he knows Adrian is the Masked Ghost,” he looked at her. Margaret was shaking. He held her in his arms.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“Is it… Is it the killer?” She asked.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>Donald didn’t answer right away, he just held her. Looking over his wife’s shoulder he saw the ring of keys he had laid on the table when answering the phone. There were numerous keys. One or two keys were for Adrian’s apartment. Another was for a similar door. One appeared to belong to a locker at a bus depot, and another might be for a safe. Wasn’t certain about that one. It was obvious that his brother-in-law had many secrets locked away.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“No,” he finally spoke, answering her question, “Who ever it is, he isn’t the killer. At least I hope not. But he may be someone who can help us?”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“How?” Margaret thought of something he had said before hanging up, “What did you mean ‘people might see’? What people? See what?”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>Stepping back from her, Donald put his hands on her shoulders and looked in his wife’s eyes?</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“I’m thinking about it, honey. I’m thinking about it.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>And so he thought about it. He knew what was going to have to happen next, but didn’t know how he was going to make it happen.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“Stay here,” he ordered her. Margaret wanted to follow but he shook his head. He went back into the bedroom, looked briefly at the body that lay there. Donald went into the closet and began to pull out clothes that weren’t blood stained and something they could wear out in this weather. There was going to be a lot of work to do.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“Put these on,” he told his wife and handed her a pile of clothes. Some of it was her clothing, some his. He had a feeling she’d need to wear slacks for what they were going to do.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“Why? What are you planning?”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>He started to change clothes, and she followed suit even though her question wasn’t yet answered.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“There is someone downstairs waiting for us. Or more correctly, waiting on the Masked Ghost to come down and join them.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>She listened as she pulled on a woolen top she had worn at the sky chalet in the mountains last winter.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“And we need to get the Masked Ghost down there.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“What, but the Masked Ghost is Adrian—“ she realized, “NO! We can’t just move my brother around like he was some sack of potatoes.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“We don’t have a choice, Maggie. The police are likely to return when they don’t find the Masked Ghost or his blood trail leaving our building. If they come back they should find the apartment as they left it. Even with the extra blood in the bedroom, it should still appear to be the mess they left it as. Otherwise, they will find him here and we’ll be arrested for harboring a fugitive, or at the very least lying to the police.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>She thought about what her husband was saying. Margaret didn’t like the thought of what they were going to have to do. It seemed so disrespectful to the dead, to her brother. But then she thought of what had already happened to him. Someone out there in the dark had shot him, killed him, for God knows why? Because Adrian had chosen to put on a mask? Why had he done that, to hunt down criminals? Did this have anything to do with what happened to Sheila?</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>Tightening the belt on Donald’s pants around her thin waist she looked at him and spoke.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“I hate doing this, but we’ll do it for Adrian.” Then she pulled on the heavy work gloves he handed her. “We will find out what happened to him.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>Donald didn’t reply, but scooped up the keys and headed back to the bedroom.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>They rolled Adrian’s body (mask, guns, and all) in a large Persian rug. It was very cumbersome, but Margaret surprised herself by her own strength when she had to lift it on her own. Donald did most of the carrying, except when they had to go around corners and she had to take an end. She would then move ahead to keep watch in case someone was coming.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>They found the halls, and even the elevator to be surprisingly empty. It must have been the storm that had driven everyone into their apartments instead of mingling in the common rooms and hallways. Even Willy, the boy who ran the elevator, wasn’t at his post. Mrs. Thompson must have convinced him to come inside for some hot chocolate, again. The elevator shaft can be very cold.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>It was almost too easy, Donald thought, as they made it to the ground floor. They’re luck didn’t hold.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>When the elevator doors opened the couple from 7C was standing there. They looked at Donald and Margaret and then at the large rolled up and stained carpet they held between them.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“Uh…,” Donald didn’t know what to say.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>It was his wife that surprisingly came to rescue.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“Hi, Betty, Jim. This horrible storm blew in our French doors and totally soaked the rug. We wanted to get it out of the apartment before it made any more of a mess.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>Jim looked at the big stained roll and watched as it slumped forward. “Here let me help you with that.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“No, no—“ Donald started, but again Margaret was there for him.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“Don’t touch. The rug is full of broken window glass. Don’t want you to get hurt, that’s why we’ve got gloves on.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“Oh, of course,” said Betty, it made some type of sense, “come one honey let’s leave them to their mess.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>The Randolphs carried their bundle down the lobby corridor toward the back door, as Betty and Jim stepped into their vacated elevator.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“That was really quick thinking back there,” Donald said as they laid the rolled up carpet on the ground just outside the door. It was still raining, but not as fiercely. There was no sign of the police.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“I don’t know what I was thinking. I’m running on pure fear and—Hey, look.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>Down the road about half a block a taxicab was parked. It flashed its headlamps twice.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“Do you think that’s him? Should we wave,” Margaret raised her hand but dropped it as she thought better of the idea.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>The cab’s lights came on again and slowly rolled forward until it was even with them.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“Can I give you a ride?” The driver said once the window was rolled down.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“No, I don’t think so. We’re waiting for—“ Donald remembered the same accented voice from the earlier phone call.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style=""> </span>“Get in the cab,” said the driver pointing a gun at them, “the Masked Ghost must take a ride.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">To Be Continued…</p>Kevin Paul Shaw Brodenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13987862091955836517noreply@blogger.com0