Chapter 12 – “A Ghost on the Streets"

REVENGE OF THE MASKED GHOST

by Kevin Paul Shaw Broden

(Copyright 2011 Kevin Paul Shaw Broden)

Chapter 12 – “A Ghost on the Streets”

The mask was uncomfortable; it was tight and chafed at the ears. It also distracted Donald’s peripheral vision.

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.

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.

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.

“Someone out there killed Adrian because he was the Masked Ghost,” she said with great concern.

“Right, and hopefully they believe they killed the Masked Ghost.”

“But they could kill you too.”

“I’m trusting they’ll be too startled by seeing a… er… ‘ghost’.”

“What about the police, they’re intent on capturing the Masked Ghost.”

“Well, I’ll just have to be extra careful not to let them catch me.”

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.

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.

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.

Holding his breath, Donald noticed the stenciled sign on the door of the car. It was a logo that belonged to the Spade Import/Export Company. The very company the Masked Ghost had been investigating in relationship to Sheila’s murder.

“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.

“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.

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.

“That's not good,” Donald said under his breath.

Slipping the kit back into a pocket, the Masked Ghost moved soundlessly into the building. Someone could have left it unlocked by accident. Not bloody likely, he thought to himself. Donald felt for the weight in his left pocket, and prayed he would not have to pull it out.

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.

Where to start, where to start? He thought to himself.

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.

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.

Someone else was looking for something. 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.

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 information and was willing to do anything to get it.

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.

The Masked Ghost blocked it with an accounting book and knocked the knife aside. The man paused only briefly, almost stunned.

“They said you were dead,” he said in a horse whisper.

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.

The murderer was out the front before the Masked Ghost was half way across the room.

Running outside, he was nearly blinded as the lights of the car came on with the sound of its engine.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

“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.

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.

“Hault!”

The Masked Ghost found himself surrounded by the police, their guns all pointed at his head.

To be continued.

Chapter 11 - “A Man For A Ghost”

REVENGE OF THE MASKED GHOST

by Kevin Paul Shaw Broden

(Copyright 2011 Kevin Paul Shaw Broden)

Chapter 11 - “A Man For A Ghost”

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.

“I still hate the fact we had to lie to Daddy,” she said.

“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.”

“But that’s not true,” she protested.

“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?”

“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.

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.

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.

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.

“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^th.”

“That’s only blocks from here,” Margaret shouted, realizing what that meant.

“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.”

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.

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.

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.

“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.”

“He knew something,” Donald responded, “Maybe the Masked Ghost had helped him at some point.”

“That would be good,” she said with hope.

“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.”

“But why would he…?

“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.”

“Oh, God!” Margaret sobbed.

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.”

“But… But Detective Monroe acted as if Adrian was still alive.”

“No, not Adrian. He acted as if the Masked Ghost is still alive.”

Margaret turned at the approaching sound of her husband’s voice.

“So for now,” he said, “we must keep the Masked Ghost alive.”

Margaret gasped, as emerging from their bedroom was a very much alive MASKED GHOST.

Chapter 10 - “A Body for a Ghost”

REVENGE OF THE MASKED GHOST

by Kevin Paul Shaw Broden

(Copyright 2011 Kevin Paul Shaw Broden)

Chapter 10 - “A Body for a Ghost”

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

“Damn you, out of the way. That’s my son, let me see!”

He pushed one of the men aside and yanked back the sheet.

“Oh, Lord. What happened here,” he shouted, “who did this to my son?”

“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.”

“You know who I am?”

“Yes, I just got done speaking with your daughter and her friend. They had the terrible experience of finding the body.”

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.

“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.

“I’m surviving.”

“Who would do such a thing to Adrian,” Vivian said through tear-chocked breaths, “he was always so nice.”

“I’m sure the police will figure it out,” Donald tried to reassure her.

“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.”

They approached her father and the detective and found them in deep discussion.

“They need to take the body to the coroner to complete their report,” Monroe was trying to lead Brown away without much success.

“I will not allow my son to be further molested after everything that has happened.”

“Sorry sir, but I must insist.”

“Do you know who I am,” Brown rose himself up to face the policeman.

“You’re a father grieving over the loss of his son. That’s all you are to me.”

Brown growled at the detective, but the fire was going out of his belly.

“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.”

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.

“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.”

“Daddy?”

“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.

Seeing that made Margaret cry again, but she held it in as the Police Detective turned to them.

“Mr. Raymond,” Monroe addressed Donald, “may I speak with you and your wife for a moment.” His tone was clear.

“Vivian, would you mind waiting for us in the car,” Donald said to the distraught girl who only nodded and headed for the Packard.

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.

“You’re brother died sometime last night,” Monroe informed them, looking up from his notebook and putting it away.

“Yes?” Donald asked.

“His neighbors are rather closed lipped. They’re good at keeping secrets, but did say he was visited by a couple late last night.”

Donald and Margaret exchanged glances.

“A young couple much like yourselves.”

“We were at home…” Margaret realized she had snapped a little too quickly, and the Detective recognized it.

“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?”

“That’s correct,” Donald covered for his wife, “a man had gotten into our apartment but was gone by the time the police arrived.”

“Gone from your penthouse apartment?”

“Yes,” they knew he didn’t believe them.

“Well, it does provide you with an alibi.”

“Why would we need an alibi?” Margaret said, she was getting scared again.

“You wouldn’t Mrs. Raymond, but I believe the body was moved.”

“Moved? How would the body have been moved?” Donald asked now sounding worried.

“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.”

“Oh, God,” Margaret whispered.

“I should put this into my report,” Monroe looked at them both, and saw their fear growing.

“Of course you should, Detective,” Donald was trying to act strong, “there was a crime committed.”

“I should put it in my report,” the Detective repeated, “but he wouldn’t approve.”

“He?” Margaret looked up at him.

“Who wouldn’t approve?” Donald asked.

A razor thin smile grew across the Detective’s serious face.

“The Masked Ghost.”

They were both stunned by the worlds.

“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.

To Be Continued…

CHAPTER 9 "A Ghost, The Day After"

“REVENGE OF THE MASKED GHOST”

by Kevin Paul Shaw Broden

(Copyright 2011 Kevin Paul Shaw Broden)

Chapter 9 - “A Ghost, the Day After”

“I just cannot believe it.”

“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.

“How New York is basically this big island.”

“Well, Manhattan is.” Margaret corrected, but Vivian went on.

“But it’s still an island and all those immigrants keep coming. You’d think the place would be full by now.”

Margaret shook her head, was her friend really that dumb?

“Hey, you don’t think New York might sink if it gets too heavy?”

Yep, she’s that dumb.

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.

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.

“What are we going to do, Don? What are we going to do?”

“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.

“Then we’re going to find out who did this,” he said as her body went limp. She had passed out from exhaustion.

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.

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.

“Oh, Donald, you didn’t have to do that,” she knelt beside him.

“I had to Maggy,” he replied, pouring bleach into the cracks between the marble slabs, “for you.”

She took his scrub brush and put it aside, then held him tight as he had held her the night before.

Margaret found that he had already cleaned up the bedroom.

“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.”

“Oh, honey, you’ve been up all night,” she felt for him, “you need to get some sleep.”

“Can’t. I have to get to work. There’s a major meeting, and your father’s going to be there.”

“Oh,” she knew how Donald always feared he’d do something wrong and look bad in her father’s eyes.

“And we’ve both got another appointment to make later in the day,” he said grimly.

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.

“I don’t think you have to worry about the island of Manhattan sinking, Vivian.”

“I guess you’re right,” her friend said with a smile, “what would happen to Macy’s bargain basement?”

Both women started laughing at that. It was good to laugh.

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.

“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.”

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.

It wasn’t until they had driven several blocks did she realize something was wrong.

“This isn’t the right direction for the stores,” Vivian said looking out the window.

Margaret exaggerated the turning of her head to look around at the neighborhood they were entering.

“Hey, you’re right. Wait a minute, we’re not too far away from my brother’s apartment.”

“You’re brother Adrian?” Vivian said excitedly.

“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.

“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.”

“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.”

“You really think so?”

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.

Vivian played the role perfectly.

The door to the apartment was slightly ajar, (just as they had left it the night before.)

“Adrian, are you decent?” Margaret said sounding a whole lot more jovial than she felt as she pushed the door open.

There before them lay the body of Adrian Brown. His shirt stained dark with blood.

Vivian screamed.

###

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.

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.

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?

“It’s a marvelous site, isn’t it,” came a voice from behind him.

Donald turned to find Harris J. Brown standing in the office doorway. It was his boss, and Margaret and Adrian’s father.

“Yes, it is.” Donald answered as his father-in-law joined him at the window, “The city is extremely beautiful.”

“Oh, the city, of course,” Brown didn’t really agree, “I see a city full of people down there.”

Donald didn’t quite know what to think of that. It wasn’t long ago that he was one of those ‘people down there.’

“They all work very hard to survive and make a living.”

“True. But there are those who seek to destroy and force themselves on the lives of others.”

“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.

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.

Brown stared down at the younger man. You dare talk back to me? But that wasn’t it at all.

“My daughter… my children mean the world to me. I only want what’s best for them.”

“I understand sir. Margaret means everything to me. And I will do everything in my power to protect her.”

After a moment, Brown finally spoke, “yes, I believe you would.”

Where the conversation would have gone from there they would never know for the desk phone buzzed.

“Mr. Randolf, your wife is on the phone,” Donald’s secretary said through the speaker, “and if I may say sir. She sounds upset.”

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.

“Honey, I’m busy right now. Can this wait… Oh.”

He glanced at his father-in-law who was staring back waiting for Donald to say one wrong word to his daughter.

Donald reached for the arm of his chair and fell back into, a little over exaggerated motion perhaps.

“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.”

He hung up the phone, and silently stared at it.

“Tell me, man. What’s wrong? What’s happened to my daughter?”

After another moment of silence Donald spoke.

“Not your daughter, sir. It’s your son,” he looked up at his father-in-law. “Adrian is dead.”

To be continued…

Chapter 5 – “Phone Call a Ghost”

“REVENGE OF THE MASKED GHOST”

by Kevin Paul Shaw Broden

(Copyright 2011 Kevin Paul Shaw Broden)

Chapter 5 – “Phone Call a Ghost”

Why had they lied to the police?

Why had Adrian hidden from the police?

Why had he been running around town masquerading as a vigilante ghost?

Who had shot him? And why?

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?

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.

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.

They both jumped at the sound of the phone from the other room.

“What do we do?” Panic filled their eyes. The phone rang again.

“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.

“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?’

A man’s voice with a rough accent spoke.

“Is Mr. Adrian Brown there? May I speak to him?”

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.

Margaret shook in fear. Who would have called for her brother here? Now?

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.

“Hello, are you still there?” Donald asked and wished he had just hung up.

Finally the voice spoke again, this time deeper, colder.

“The Masked Ghost must walk.”

Good God, Donald thought, he knows.

“Who is this?”

Another silence and then.

“All your questions will be answered, Mr. Randolf. But first the Masked Ghost must travel. The Masked Ghost must walk.”

“How exactly can a ghost walk?” Donald was getting upset and regretted his words at the site of his wife’s horror filled face.

“There is a back entrance to your building,” the voice came again, “The Masked Ghost must descend. I will be waiting for him.”

“What? We can’t do that. We can’t move a—People will see--.”

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.

“Who was that?”

“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.

“Is it… Is it the killer?” She asked.

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.

“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?”

“How?” Margaret thought of something he had said before hanging up, “What did you mean ‘people might see’? What people? See what?”

Stepping back from her, Donald put his hands on her shoulders and looked in his wife’s eyes?

“I’m thinking about it, honey. I’m thinking about it.”

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.

“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.

“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.

“Why? What are you planning?”

He started to change clothes, and she followed suit even though her question wasn’t yet answered.

“There is someone downstairs waiting for us. Or more correctly, waiting on the Masked Ghost to come down and join them.”

She listened as she pulled on a woolen top she had worn at the sky chalet in the mountains last winter.

“And we need to get the Masked Ghost down there.”

“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.”

“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.”

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?

Tightening the belt on Donald’s pants around her thin waist she looked at him and spoke.

“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.”

Donald didn’t reply, but scooped up the keys and headed back to the bedroom.

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.

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.

It was almost too easy, Donald thought, as they made it to the ground floor. They’re luck didn’t hold.

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.

“Uh…,” Donald didn’t know what to say.

It was his wife that surprisingly came to rescue.

“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.”

Jim looked at the big stained roll and watched as it slumped forward. “Here let me help you with that.”

“No, no—“ Donald started, but again Margaret was there for him.

“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.”

“Oh, of course,” said Betty, it made some type of sense, “come one honey let’s leave them to their mess.”

The Randolphs carried their bundle down the lobby corridor toward the back door, as Betty and Jim stepped into their vacated elevator.

“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.

“I don’t know what I was thinking. I’m running on pure fear and—Hey, look.”

Down the road about half a block a taxicab was parked. It flashed its headlamps twice.

“Do you think that’s him? Should we wave,” Margaret raised her hand but dropped it as she thought better of the idea.

The cab’s lights came on again and slowly rolled forward until it was even with them.

“Can I give you a ride?” The driver said once the window was rolled down.

“No, I don’t think so. We’re waiting for—“ Donald remembered the same accented voice from the earlier phone call.

“Get in the cab,” said the driver pointing a gun at them, “the Masked Ghost must take a ride.”

To Be Continued…

Chapter 4 – “The Police for a Ghost”

“REVENGE OF THE MASKED GHOST”

by Kevin Paul Shaw Broden

(Copyright 2011 Kevin Paul Shaw Broden)

Chapter 4 – “The Police for a Ghost”

“What do we do?”

“I don’t know,” Donald Randolf answered his wife as he put the mask back on the face of his dead brother-in-law, and put the guns back where he found them. “But we better go answer the door before the police break it down.”

“Open up in there!”

Margaret was terrified, but her husband pushed her forward, and she opened the door.

A large round man, wearing a suit two sizes too small, held up his Detective’s badge. Six uniformed police officers stood in the hall behind them, each with their guns drawn.

“Detective Dobbs. You called?” He had a gruff voice.

“I… I did.” Margaret answered now more scared of them then of the intruder.

“Well,” the detective measured up the couple, wondering if they were worth interrupting his evening, “Where is this ‘Masked Ghost’? You better not be messing with me, because we’ve had enough calls from people claiming they had captured him ever since the papers announced that there was a reward.”

“Reward?” Margaret glanced at her husband. Donald knew what she was thinking. Had someone shot Adrian in an attempt to capture the mysterious ‘Masked Ghost’ in hopes of claiming the reward?

“He came in from the balcony,” Donald said trying to stay calm, “Don’t know how he got up here. He then collapsed on the living room floor.” Margaret grabbed his arm in fear as the police moved passed them and into the other room.

“And this would be the room,” the detective asked.

“Yes.”

“Then where is he?”

“What?” The couple said in unison and pushed through the line of police officers and couldn’t believe their eyes.

The room was empty. The French doors still swung open as the wind blew in the rain.

“You said he was dead.” Dobbs grumbled.

“I couldn’t find a pulse,” Donald replied.

A look of joy and hope passed across Margaret’s face, but she had to suppress it in front of the police.

“We’ve got blood here,” one of the uniformed officers examined the floor where Adrian had fallen only moments earlier, “lots of it. Trail leads in from the balcony and pools here.”

“Looks like you weren’t lying after all,” Dobbs said to the Randolphs through gritting teeth.

“Why would we lie?” Margaret said and realized too late there was a tone of guilt in her words.

“Good question,” the detective answered.

An officer came in from balcony, holding a long rope connected to a strange metal grappling hook. The rope was wet from the rain and blood. “Looks like this is how he got up here.”

“Yes, but did he also leave that way?” Dobbs considered aloud. “Spread out, he’s probably still here.” The order given and the officers moved through the penthouse apartment.

“He’s alive!” Margaret whispered to her husband, she tried not to hope. Donald looked grim, and didn’t reply.

“More blood over here,” came another officer, “trail of it leading in here.”

They all headed in that direction. Margaret and Donald could not stop themselves from following, but the detective put a hand up to stop them before they entered their own bedroom.

Margaret watched as he raised his gun and followed the other officers. She was trying not to cry. Her brother was alive, and there were seven guns in there ready to kill him again.

“The window,” she heard an officer say.

Donald and Margaret leaned to the side trying to look into the room as the detective approached the window on the opposite wall. They couldn’t see much except that the window was open and something large and dark was hung from it.

The police were in the bedroom for several minutes more before Detective Dobbs emerged holding a large overcoat soaked in blood.

Margaret gasped.

“Looks like the creep escaped out your bedroom window. This bulky coat must have been slowing him down, so he left it behind.” Dobbs turned to his squad, “Okay, everyone, let’s get out of here. A man bleeding that much can’t have gotten far.”

He turned back to the terrified couple. “Thank you for calling. We’ll have this twit in custody by morning, or he’ll be dead. Either way he won’t be bothering you again. Have a good night.”

With that the detective left with the rest of the police, taking the coat and other evidence with him.

Margaret and Donald found themselves very alone.

“Wh… what happened?”

“I don’t know,” Donald answered his distraught wife.

“Where’s Adrian,” she broke from his arms and ran for their bedroom. The room was a complete wreck as the police had pulled apart practically everything in their search for clues. The window was left open and there was a dark red stain from where the coat had lain.

She turned back to her husband, “Do you think they’ll find him—“

“Sorry about the mess, sis.” Came a whisper and they turned to find the masked man dragging himself out of their walk-in-closet. The police had been in there, but only given it a cursory glance.

“Adrian!” Margaret shouted, and ran to him. He took a step forward and fell into her arms.

Donald helped get him to the bed. Margaret held Adrian’s head in her lap and pulled the mask from her brother’s face.

“What happened Adrian? How did this…”

He looked up at her, his eyes focused and unfocused. “Sheila.”

“We’ve got to get you to the hospital,” Donald said, trying to maintain some clear thought in the midst of all this chaos.

“No time,” came the raspy whisper, “lost too much blood. I’ll be dead before we get there…”

“Don’t say that!” Margaret cried.

“Sorry Maggie. Now listen, there’s too much at stake here,” Adrian reached a shaky hand into a pocket and pulled out a ring of keys. “Go to my apartment. You’ll find all you need there.”

“All we need for what?”

“To catch my murderer,” it was the last thing he said as his head collapsed in his sister’s arms. She held him to herself crying.

Donald stood over his wife, as she rocked her brother in her arms. There was no doubt about it; Adrian Brown was now dead.

He looked at the keys in his hand and wondered exactly what they were supposed to do next.

To Be Continued.

Chapter 3 – “Family for a Ghost”

“REVENGE OF THE MASKED GHOST”

by Kevin Paul Shaw Broden

(Copyright 2011 Kevin Paul Shaw Broden)

Chapter 3 – “Family for a Ghost”

“No, It can’t be,” Margaret shook her head violently.

A masked man had broken into to her home only to die on the floor before her. Margaret struggled to be strong and call the police, and maybe she would have remained strong if her husband hadn’t removed the dead man’s mask.

“It can’t be,” she repeated, now a whisper, as she looked down up on the face of Adrian, her own brother.

“But it is,” her husband said somberly and stood up from the side of the body. Donald took hold of his wife and pulled her to the far side of the room. They held onto each other afraid that if one let go the other would fall. Both were crying.

After several minutes past by in silence Margaret finally spoke.

“What… what happened to him?” Her face remained buried against her husband’s chest.

“I don’t know, but it looks like he was shot at least twice.”

She slowly lifted her head, and they looked across the room at the lifeless body.

“Who would have done such a thing to Adrian?”

“Maybe he upset someone with one of his magazine articles.” Donald said just to say anything. What he was thinking bothered him far more.

Adrian was supposed to have dinner with them, but he was running late. Something the ‘Masked Ghost’ had been involved in may have delayed him. It must have been something unexpected and struck him on the way here. From the way he was bleeding out, it couldn’t have happened too far away or he would never have made it to their building, let alone somehow climb the outer wall to reach the balcony. It must have taken all his strength and last breath to get to them. That meant Adrian’s killer might still be close by. Donald couldn’t tell his wife that.

Margaret pulled away from her husband and ran back to her brother’s lifeless form. Getting down on her knees she wanted to wrap her arms around him. She reached out to grab Adrian’s arm when she brushed the edge of his over coat. It slipped to the side and fell to the floor with a heavy THUD.

“What was that?”

“I… I don’t know,” she answered and pulled her hand away.

Donald came around the other side of his wife and lifted the edge the coat. Something in the pocket gave it extra weight. He reached inside and withdrew what he already knew would be there.

“What’s Adrian doing with a gun,” Margaret gasped looking at the ugly weapon.

Her husband just looked at her, the answer was terribly obvious. He opened the coat further and found another gun strapped in a holster on the other side of the body.

“But why,” Margaret asked as she picked up the dark red mask, “Why would Adrian put on this horrible get up? What would make him do such terrible things?”

“I don’t know,” he answered, “Your brother was always a little odd.”

“Don’t say that about him!” She shouted in tears at her husband.

“Sorry, you’re right. That was rude, but Adrian always did have his head in the clouds. As you said, as a writer, he’s always been imaginative. Whenever we talked he always seemed not to be paying any attention to me.”

Margaret wanted to defend her brother’s honor, but didn’t know how to defend someone who did what he clearly had been doing. She didn’t know him as well as she thought.

“He thought you were boring.” She said matter-of-factly.

“What?”

“After we first met, Adrian thought you were a very boring man. Then after he got to know you he became completely supportive of my love for you.”

Donald dropped his head, feeling guilty.

“A few months ago he came to me and asked to see if you’d be interested in having him do a story about you.”

“A story about me, why? I’m nobody.”

“He said he wanted to interview you about what it was like working on the top floors of the construction of the Empire State Building. What it was like walking on those thin iron beams thousands of feet in the air.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I don’t know. Maybe I thought you’d say no. You always seem like you want to put that part of your life behind you, and keep it separate from our marriage and working for my father.”

“That was never my intention. Adrian could have come to me anytime he wanted.”

“I'm sorry,” she said. “Maybe you were right. Adrian was always full of wild ideas and wilder stories. It’s just that I thought he was finally grounding himself when he met that nice girl Sheila – Oh!”

“Oh, what?”

“Could it be…? Adrian took it extremely hard when Sheila died last year. You don’t suppose that—“

Margaret’s thoughts were harshly interrupted when a heavy knocking came to the door of their penthouse apartment.

“Open up! This is the police. Let us in, now!”

Chapter 2 – “Blood of a Ghost”

“REVENGE OF THE MASKED GHOST”

by Kevin Paul Shaw Broden

(Copyright 2011 Kevin Paul Shaw Broden)

Chapter 2 – “Blood of a Ghost”

After screaming for nearly thirty seconds, Margaret Randolph realized how foolish she sounded and stopped. However, she was still terrified and pulled herself into her husband’s arms all the more.

Only moments ago they had been getting ready to have dinner with her brother and then the storm that was swallowing Manhattan blew open the balcony doors of the Randolph’s penthouse. With the pouring rain, in stepped the mysterious vigilante the newspapers were calling ‘The Masked Ghost’ and then collapsed to their floor.

“You said he’d never break into our home!” She cried, pounding his chest.

“I didn’t think…”

“Obviously,” she pulled away from him and headed for the front hallway, “I’m calling the police.” She kept marching, knowing that if she stopped the scream would come back. Margaret had always been a strong-headed girl, her parents didn’t always know what to do with her, but had to keep herself focused or the terror of what she had just witnessed would return.

Donald was proud of his wife as he watched her walk off. He knew she was scared, so was he, but she fought it. They would get through this together, whatever this was. He realized that if everything had gone as originally planned, they would have been off to dinner with Margaret’s brother Adrian and this masked man would have broken into their home to do who knows what.

So why had he collapsed once inside?

Internally Donald was yelling at himself to get away from the invader, but he carefully knelt next to the figure. As he touched the stranger he realized that the dark stains on the man’s coat were not from the rain. His hand came away covered in blood.

Donald stared at the blood for a moment and back down at the motionless form. He had no medical training, but tried to feel for a pulse and found none. Turning the body over, more blood was visible as it pooled on the floor beneath.

The stranger’s hat had fallen away when he hit the floor. The scarlet covered mask that hid half his face matched the color that was seeping out onto the marble floor. The ginger colored locks of hair looked far too familiar.

Donald reached down and removed the mask.

“Police?” Margaret spoke into the phone trying her best not to sound panicked. “I want to report a break in.”

“Calm down ma’am, tell me what you want to report.” Came the response from the other end. Margaret hoped it really was a police officer and not just the phone operator.

“Don’t tell me to calm down, you’ve got to hurry and get over here now.”

“What seems to be the problem ma’am?”

“Don’t ma’am me, I’m only 22. Send as many of your men as you can. That terrible man is in my home!”

“Alright ma-- Who’s in your home?”

“You know who I mean! That ‘Masked Ghost’ fellow the newspapers are always talking about. He’s in my living room as we speak.”

There was a pause before the voice came again.

“Have you had anything to drink?”

“I am not drunk! Why are you wasting time? Is this how the New York police treat everyone who needs your help? Please, get over here at once! My husband is watching over him, but I don’t know what this ‘Masked Ghost’ is capable of.”

There was another pause, and she could hear people shouting back and forth in the distance over the phone, orders were being given.

“You said your husband is watching him. Does he have gun?”

“My husband doesn’t have a gun, why would he? Oh, no I hadn’t seen any weapons, but don’t take any chances.”

“What’s the stranger doing?”

“He’s just laying there on the floor.”

“What? He’s on the floor? Did your husband hit him?”

“No, of course not.”

“I’d suggest you and your husband leave the premises and don’t go near the man.”

“Yes, yes, we won’t go near him. Now please hurry and take this terrible man away.”

Exasperated, Margaret hung up the phone. She must have sounded like an utter fool the way she was going on. Getting upset with the police officer on the phone had kept her mind occupied, but now she had to face her fears and that awful thing in the other room.

Coming down the hall she realized that everything was just too quiet, even the rain from the open doors had slowed.

“Donald, are you alright?” She spoke with out shouting.

“Yes,” came he flat reply.

“Is… Is he still there?”

“Yes, he’s still here, and it doesn’t look like he’ll be going anywhere,” Donald said to her as she entered the room.

“The police are on their way, but I don’t think they believed me,” she said. Her anger was cooling, but that meant her fears were rising once more.

“I don’t know if calling the police was really a good idea after all,” he said and held up the mask and looked at her in shock.

While working on a construct site, Donald had once witnessed a coworker fall to his death from a girder three hundred feet in the air. He had been too far away to help, and it was unfortunately an expectation while working on sky scrappers. It was terrible, but he didn’t even know the man’s name. The shock and horror eventually wore off. Death was inevitable, but this… this was a shock of an entirely different kind.

“What?” Margaret slowly approached, she didn’t want to be anywhere near this invader of her home. She looked over her husband’s shoulder at the man’s bloody face, and gasped.

It can’t be real, her mind screamed, the man lying dead upon her floor was her very own brother, Adrian.

To Be Continued…

Chapter 1 – “A Ghost out of the Storm”

“REVENGE OF THE MASKED GHOST”

by Kevin Paul Shaw Broden

(Copyright 2011 Kevin Paul Shaw Broden)

Chapter 1 – “A Ghost out of the Storm”

Margaret Randolph had to reconsider which dress to wear out to dinner this evening. A fierce storm rolled in off the Atlantic, consuming the Manhattan skyline, and a torrent of rain had been falling for the last hour. Thunder repeatedly shook the high-rise apartment building.

Laying aside the light pink silk evening gown, Margaret chose a dark heavy wool outfit. She rolled her hair up into a bun, pinned it beneath her hat, and then pulled on a pair of short gloves. She would grab a fur coat from the hall closet when they were ready to leave.

Finishing, she reached for a golden necklace as an accent. Even in the rain, there was no reason why a girl should not look her best.

“Where is that good for nothing brother of yours?” Her husband Donald said as he came around the bed, fighting with his tie.

“Oh, don’t be so hard on him. Here, let me do that for you,” she said taking hold of his tie and wrapping it around itself until it fit snuggly and straight.

“Sometimes I think you’re trying to choke me with that thing.”

“If that was my intent, I would have done it long ago,” she joked and tugged a little tighter, “Adrian probably got caught in the storm. He’ll be here soon enough.”

“Perhaps,” Donald said as they entered the main living space of the penthouse apartment. The storm really was bad, he could see the rain striking the balcony windows in sheets, and the wind rattled the glass of the French doors, “but that brother of yours always has his head in the clouds flying off on one crazy whim to the next.”

“That brother of mine helped convince mummy and daddy that I should be allowed to marry someone like you.”

That was true, and Donald knew it. To her parents he was from the wrong side of the tracks and had too many calluses on his hands to become part of their high-class family. However, Adrian had seen how much they were in love and stood up for them. It did require that Donald had to quit his construction job and come work for their father’s company. He felt guilty walking past building sites in these expensive suits instead of up there in a hard hat and boots with the rest of his fellow workers.

“Adrian’s a writer dear, you know how imaginative and flighty they can. I am certain his mind is just full of wondrous thoughts he has to put down on paper. The magazines are sending him all over the world to interview this celebrity or that politician. He has even met with scientists; the last article he wrote was about some new energy source. Atom something or other, I didn’t understand a word of it, but I really enjoy reading Adrian’s words. He sent me his latest novel a week ago.”

“Another novel now? Does that boy ever give himself a moment of rest?”

“Well, I think he threw himself into writing this one after the terrible car accident that killed his fiancée Sheila.”

“Oh, right. That was over a year ago, wasn’t it?”

“He took it really hard. Blamed himself for a while, but seems to have pulled out okay. Which is why I was looking forward to having this dinner with him.”

“You’re right of course, dear,” Donald glanced at the grandfather clock, “but with this rain we will certainly miss our reservations. And you know how Alfonse hates late arrivals.”

He dropped into a wing back chair and snatched up the newspaper from the side table. In an exaggerated flurry, he opened the paper to no page in particular.

Margaret walked over and looked out the windows at the storm. Honestly, she really was worried about her brother. The streets of Manhattan were not the safest on any night, but with a storm like this, it became down right dangerous. She prayed he had found a taxi, but also knew her brother well enough he might attempt to walk the entire way. The boy would catch his death.

Margaret sat on the couch across from her husband and was about to say something, to further to defend Adrian, when she noticed the headline on the front page of the paper. Along with stories about how President Roosevelt was handling his first term in office, and troubles quietly brewing in Europe, the banner headline read:

POLICE MANHUNT CONTINUES FOR MASKED VIGILANTE

“Why haven’t they captured that horrible man? I don’t feel safe at night with someone like that out there.”

Donald folded back the paper and glanced at the headline that was bothering his wife.

“That so called ‘Masked Ghost’? The police will get him eventually. He cannot really disappear into shadows like they say. That’s all hype to sell newspapers.”

“I know that,” Margaret replied, “but what if he broke in here some night. When we’re asleep?”

“I doubt he’d bother with us. We’re not important enough,” he tried to reassure her.

“He broke into Mrs. O’Brien’s building.”

“The newspaper said he was in a city councilman’s apartment five floors above Mrs. O’Brien. A week later that councilman was arrested for taking bribes.”

“Did this ‘Masked Ghost’ plant false evidence?”

“Doesn’t look like it. The councilman pled guilty and gave the names of three businessman who had paid him the bribes to get city contracts.”

He went on, “This ‘Masked Ghost’ appears to only go after mobsters and corrupt political officials and we’re neither. At least I’m not, are you a mobster?”

“Oh, you!” She tossed a pillow at him. They both laughed.

Suddenly a flash of lighting and a clap of thunder made them jump. The balcony’s French doors blew open and a torrent of rain poured in onto the ornate marble flooring. Turning at the crashing sound, they were horrified to see someone standing in the rain as if some menacing apparition created by the storm. The figure took a step forward into the light and they knew at once the very vigilante they had been talking about, and Donald had reassured his wife wasn't a threat, now stood in their midst.

Donald pulled his wife into his arms, he did not know how but he would protect her with his last breath.

A mask covered half the man’s face, and a wide brimmed hat shaded it even further. His double-breasted suit was dark; yet, a darker stain soaked the front of it. A large black overcoat billowed in the wind around him.

‘So… sor…” the stranger spoke, but it sounded more like a gurgle as if his mouth was filled with liquid. The intruder stepped forward and collapsed, landing face down with a wet thud at their feet.

Margaret could not stop herself from screaming.

To Be Continued…