An Inkling of the Guilty Party (modern ghost fantasy)

I carried my bag in the front door, purposefully avoiding any observation of the crime scene team working on the bodies. What I did note were the collection of Mayberry R.F.D CDs on the shelves. Did these old farts have the entire three seasons of this show? wow.

I am a Detective Sergeant with the San Juan Hills SD. I work Homicide; I have a 100% clearance rate, and I am usually assigned the whodunits and the high-profile cases. The reason that I am trying not to see what the forensics guys are doing is on the weird side...I am what they call psychic, although I never use that description myself, and I shudder whenever someone else hints in that direction. I prefer to just solve cases, and I don't care to prove any paranormal claims. If it puts the bad guys in jail, I'm fine with it...I don't care about explaining it.

So other than noting the oddity of Mayberry R.F.D fans, I focus on nothing, and set up in the bedroom. I am going to spend the night here and soak up whatever is left of the "atmosphere".

I drift off to sleep in the vic's bed, and my dream of note involves me riding shotgun to Barney Fife...yeah surprising, huh? We end our patrol of Mayberry at the vic's house and I wake up. I kind of click on to the fact that these two older gentlemen were gay, and had been at it in that bed. Instead of the revulsion I may have expected from myself, I just had a bit of sadness for their being targeted for murder and losing each other. From my walkthrough of the house in my dream, I key in on two Ipods (matching) sitting on the headboard, and scoop them up. I don't know why the crime scene guys didn't pick them up, but I know they are important. I have the feeling that chain of custody won't be important anyway for this one.

Although I have only slept for a few broken hours over the last three days, I am fully awake now, and I start prowling through the house. I don't know what I'm looking for, and it may not be here, but I have to look. Finally, the sun comes up.

Now I prowl through the couple's fridge. I haven't eaten much either lately. Full moons usually kick up lots of easily solved crimes when folks go moon mad and start hurting each other, but this last full moon spawned a lot of whodunits. I'm in my pajama bottoms and no shirt, and pulling out a hunk of salami and some bread. I want to eat and clear out with those Ipods before the vics' families show up...I don't want those Ipods leaving my sight until I dig in.

The first lookyloos come up to the house, and I shoo them off. I might be half naked, but I know how to use the cop voice to good effect. The next visitor took the cake. At first I thought she was a lookyloo, but there was something about her that was very different. She was distraught and that was the first thing that came to my attention. See was taller than me, plain and freckled, brown hair, and very open honest blue eyes. She also had some prominent breasts pushing against her T shirt.

She pushes past me before I realize she isn't a scene tourist. I grab her arm to stop her from going any further into the house, and I realize that is is heartbroken over the murders. She fights against me even though I keep telling her that I'm with the Sheriff's Department. I have a sudden desire to squeeze one of her breasts to dominate her and quiet her, but I fight down that unexpected impulse and put her in an arm lock instead, trying to put her on the floor as gently as possible. I finally pick up on what she is saying...you're not going to help them because they're gay.

I tell her OK now, shhhh. I am going to solve this. Me. Don't worry. shhhh. I stroke her hair and hold her and keep telling her I will solve the murders.

When she calms down, she tell me her name, and that the vics had been like parents to her. She was a lesbian, and not close with her own family. These two gentlemen had made her feel safe. I know she is going to be important in solving this, but not WHY yet.

The lack of sleep now hits me hard, and I tell her that I need to leave this house before their families arrive. She helps me pack up, and then puts me in her car. I am too tired to argue as she half carries me into her house, and then makes me breakfast. She sends me into her bathroom for a hot shower. When I get out she lies down with me in her bed. She asks me not to try and seduce her...please, just sleep with me. I need the comfort. Please don't make it physical

I wake up in the afternoon. She is snuggled into me, and my hands are on her breasts. It is erotic, but not in a demanding lustful sort of way. It is more of a comforting intimate feeling. She turns to me and kisses me, not with tongue and not in rut, but friendly and sexy, but not urgent. She makes me an early dinner, and I get set to look into those Ipods. She tells me of the couple, and everything she says is fitting into what I have seen.

Then the phone rings.

Leroy Washington is a complicated man. Although he is black, he hates ghetto blacks with an intensity the most lunatic Klansman couldn't match. I joke with him that it is the result of his his stereotypical name, but I know that he has spent years building up this hate intentionally. He is also a Democrat, and he is one of the few people that hate the Democrats more than I do....this is the basis of our friendship, as I am one of the few people he can be vocal with, even if he accuses me of being a "guilty white liberal" when I try to tone down his hatred of the ghetto folks. He spends a lot of time with the community church leaders, though. He is a better lawman than a politician, but he works more as out of necessity as a politician now as UnderSherriff.

The phone call is a priority call for me; the daughter of a local politician has been murdered by her boyfriend in a drug and race related case. It is going to be as politically nasty in the county as anything we have seen before. Leroy calls me in.

I am surprised by her when I tell her I have to leave and work a different case. She trusts me to come back and find her "parents's" killer. I like that. I have not had a woman trust me in a long time. She drives me back to my car.

As I drive to the political murder case, I notice the two ghosts of the gay couple sitting in my backseat. I see ghosts all the time, and I find them neither helpful or scary. They rarely communicate anything useful, even though sometimes a smile or nod at the right time points ime in the right direction to nail their killer. This time, the old farts were beaming at me.

They weren't going to be helpful at all...they were happy I was seeing their "daughter".

[This is a "I hoe em, you grow em" story...if you would like to to work on this story, by all means take it as yours, with a little credit to me]
See The "I hoe em, you grow em" series - Need a story idea?