The Edge Of The Cemetery (8 page)

The idea of resting and relaxing was a good one, but I was feeling anxious and antsy, and needed a distraction. Luckily for me, I got one just as Billy and I pulled into our garage in the form of a text from my college roommate, Mike. After college I didn't really have any career prospects, so Mike had talked me into moving to San Francisco and working for his father, who was a real estate tycoon, so to speak. I finally decided I hated it and moved on to another job, but Mike and I were still close and got together as often as we could.

Another thing Mike had talked me into was joining the Presidio Softball League with him. I used to play regularly, but these days I'd been relegated to a back-up player. Ghost killing can kill your social life. The games last up to six innings or one hour, whichever comes first, and the league follows the ASA Slow Pitch Softball rules, although the umpire has a lot of discretion. Generally it's more of a social gathering than a competitive sport, especially since each team always shows up with a cooler of beer. One rule, however, is strictly enforced, and that's the men to women ratio. Our team has four “full time” women, but two of them travel often for work, so our team captain finds himself scrambling at least twice a month for back-ups. According to Mike's text, that was the case this week, and he wanted to know if I was in for tonight's game and if I knew of any eligible young ladies that wanted to drink beer and play softball at the foggy fields of the Presidio. Before I could respond he sent another text.

Sorry George, I forgot, you don't spend time with the ladies, LoL so how could you know anyone.

I wasn't amused, especially since he was more or less right. I would date if I had time and if I thought I could explain my odd hours and departures to a woman, but I wasn't ready to tackle that hurdle yet.

I texted him back and told him that I might know someone and would get back to him soon. He replied with
????really?????

I still wasn't amused.

Billy needed a distraction as much as I did, and maybe a team sport would help to dispel her bad mood. I'd asked her to play before but she'd adamantly refused, saying she'd never played softball and knew nothing about it. She may not have been an athlete, but she had the physique and stamina of a well-trained tri-athlete, and nowhere in the rule book did it say she needed to know how to play—she just needs to be a
she
.

As we got off the elevator, I told Billy I wanted to stop in and say hello to Justine and Margie. She gave me an odd look, but didn't argue. When we entered Justine's apartment, Margie was vacuuming the front hallway. I motioned to her and whispered, “I might need your help…is Justine here?” She pointed toward the living room where Billy had disappeared, Margie nodded and followed me into the room.

Justine was seated on the couch and greeted me affectionately. “George, dear, what a lovely surprise.” Then she frowned. “Is everything all right?”

“So far. We haven't found the kid, but we've identified him.” I gave her a run down on what we knew, the Vokkel and Edgar connection, and briefly mentioned Phil's mysterious journal findings, which she thought interesting. I finished up with, “So basically, we're in a holding pattern, and I thought Billy and I could use a nice little outing…you know, something to distract us.” I smiled ingratiatingly. Billy scowled; she was on to me.

I hurried through my next statement, “My softball league plays tonight and we're short a woman, so I think Billy ought to gear up and come play.” Billy's scowl deepened and she started shaking her head negatively.

Justine clapped her hands, “That is a wonderful idea.” She turned to Billy, who was seated next to her. “Dear, I think you should go. It will be a fun experience for you, and perhaps you will meet some new people.”

Billy was still shaking her head when she said, “I don't know the first thing about softball…hell, I don't even know much about baseball in general.” Green-eyed lasers were attempting to destroy me, but Margie came to my rescue.

“I'll teach you the general rules and give you some pointers. I know how these games go. George has told me all about them. You'll be fine, and you'll have fun too!” Margie was a big baseball fan and we frequently talked about the game, and I usually told her all about the softball games when I got a chance to play. I'd even thought of inviting her to play on occasion.

Billy was outnumbered and she knew if she didn't acquiesce, she'd never hear the end of it. With a dramatically belligerent sigh, she said, “Fine!” and huffed out of the room.

Justine was smiling and Margie asked, “What time is the game?”

“Seven—at the Presidio fields.”

“Okay, that's good; I can get her up to speed in that timeframe. Do you have a glove she can use, or should I loan her mine?”

My eyebrows shot up. “You have a softball glove, Margie?”

“Of course,” she replied, her tone clearly implying that I should have known better than to ask.

I beamed at her. “Maybe you should play instead.”

“Some other time. Today its little Miss Grump's turn,” she winked devilishly.

I called Mike as soon as I got home. “Hey Mike, my friend Billy is going to play with us tonight. She's never played, but I'll give her a quick tutorial and we can put her in right field.”

“Great! Who is she?” Mike asked bluntly. He thought I had gynophobia since the only real female friend I ever talked about was Justine.

“She's Justine's niece…we work together.” It wasn't a complete lie. When I decided to take on ghost killing full time, I had to resign my career with the development firm I'd been with for almost ten years. But I had no plans of resigning my friendships, and those friends would need an explanation as to how I could still afford my lifestyle. Justine, much to my surprise, had set up a trust fund for me. She was excessively wealthy, and I used it to pay my mortgage and other expenses. But I also used her wealth to explain my career change. All my friends were aware of my friendship with her and they knew she was loaded, so I told them she'd asked me to run her charitable fund, a full-time job that required a great deal of travel. They bought it hook, line, and sinker.

“Right, okay, see you at 6:45. I gotta go,” Mike said and hung up.

I knocked on Justine's door at 6:20. I wanted to get to the field a little early so that I could do some warm up with Billy before the game. Billy answered the door, and the glower on her face told me this might not have been a good idea after all. She had her hair pulled back in a braid, the glossy ebony plait competing with the sheen on her black long-sleeved sport T. She was also wearing her calf-length running pants. All of it showed off her figure nicely…she looked good. If she wasn't any good on the field, at least she'd be a distraction to the opposing team's male players. She held Margie's softball glove in one hand and a pair of cleats in the other. I pointed down to them questioningly.

“Apparently Margie and I wear the same size shoe.” She pushed past me and headed toward the elevator.

“So, how did your softball lesson go?” I asked, trying not to let the amusement in my voice show through.

“Fine. She made me go to the batting cages. I can now bat, toss, and catch.” Billy grumbled, but I detected a bit of satisfaction in her voice.

“And?”

“I did okay. It's just hand-eye coordination…I don't get why people think it's so hard,” she said with more than a little condescension.

“It's more than that! Did she run the rules down with you?” I was trying to match her tone and failing.

Billy nodded her head, but said nothing else. On the ride over I began to doubt the sanity of my decision to ask her to play. I didn't have very many friends, and the last thing I needed was for her to alienate the ones I did have.

When we arrived at the south field, most of my team was already there—drinking beer and watching the six o'clock team finish up. I introduced Billy to everyone and much to my relief, she was pleasantly polite. Mike was hovering over a picnic table with our team captain working out the line-up. When he finished he strolled over, eyeing Billy curiously.

“Hey, George, you made it!” He turned to Billy. “And who is this lovely lady?” Mike had everything going for him; he was handsome, rich, and very likable, and was a serial dater. I'd never known him to stick with one woman for more than a month or so.

“Hey Mike,” I said, trying to catch his eye to let him know that Billy wasn't his type, but he was too busy staring at her, so I made the introductions. “This is Billy…Billy, Mike.”

Mike thrust his hand forward and Billy took it. The shake lingered far longer than I thought necessary and eventually Billy broke it, a very slight blush spreading across her face.

We did a little warming up; Billy had a surprisingly good arm and made some powerfully accurate throws. She also caught everything I threw at her. I was beginning to wonder just how truthful her claim was of never having played before.

The game got started and I played second base while Billy played right field. There weren't many balls heading in her direction and I could tell she was getting a little bored. I threw her a bone and traded places with her in inning three. She caught two fly balls, retiring the batters, and she hit two homeruns, surprising the hell out me; the last one was the go-ahead game winner. When the game ended Mike and our team captain were adamant we celebrate by going to the Final-Final Sports Bar on Baker Street in the Marina District.

I didn't think Billy would want to go, but her performance on the field had elevated her to celebrity status with my teammates and they were insistent that we join them for at least one beer. Resistance was futile.

When we arrived, Mike and I went to order while Billy hit the restroom. “So, what's the story with her?” Mike asked.

“Story?” I replied, knowing exactly what he meant.

“You know what I mean. You two…got a thing?”

I laughed insincerely at him. “No, Mike, we're just friends…co-workers, that's all.”

“Mind if I ask her out?”

I'd known this was coming, but I wasn't sure how to respond. My big-brother instinct was trying to kick in for the second time that day, but I also knew I didn't have any right to make decisions for Billy.

“Nope, but I'll warn you, she's not much for socializing. It was like pulling teeth to get her to come tonight.” I was hoping my discouraging tone would deter him—the flicker of determination in his eyes told me otherwise.

Billy came out of the restroom with another player, smiling at something the woman had said. Billy said something to her and they both laughed. I had no idea who this Billy was, and for a minute I wondered if she'd been possessed. A quick scan of the bar told me it was just us mortals…damn ghosts were never around when you needed one.

Mike was talking to me again. “So what happened to your face?” Billy's cuts had faded to the point where she dabbed a little make-up on them and they virtually disappeared; mine were fading, but still noticeable. The first thing that came to mind was Phil's explanation to Ed, the bartender at Seymour's.

“Oh, that, it's nothing. I decided to try out boxing at my gym, it didn't go so well,” I said, but Mike was no longer interested in me or my injuries. Billy had joined us and all of his attention was suddenly on her.

Mike and Billy spent the entire time together, ignoring everyone else. She seemed flattered and a little flustered at the attention, but she didn't shy away. A few beers later, I told Billy that we should get going, early morning and all.

As we were crossing the street toward the car, Billy stopped abruptly. Our teenage demon-befriending killer was leaning against my driver's side door.

Calvin nodded lightly in our direction, looking a little frightened and unsure of himself. Billy began walking again at a leisurely pace. Her body language, which was normally guarded, was now relaxed and non-threatening.

I started to walk too, but then I heard Mike call out my name. I turned to find him outside the bar, walking towards me.

“Hey.” He tossed his head toward Billy and my car. “Who's that?”

“I don't know,” I lied, “but Billy seems to know him. What's up?”

“Uh, well, I wanted to get her phone number…to ask her out.” Mike was suddenly shy, very unlike him—clearly Billy had made an unusual impression. I gave him her number, said goodbye again, and walked over to the car where Billy and Calvin were in quiet conversation.

Billy introduced us in a tone I'd never heard her use…soft, almost nurturing. I wasn't sure what she was playing at; this kid was a killer, with his own personal demon in his arsenal. I looked around. No musketeer in sight…that was good.

I nodded my acknowledgment. The kid had a black eye and a bruised cheek; someone had thrown a couple of solid punches at him. He was pale and shaking lightly. It wasn't cold out, but he could have been hungry—who knew where he'd been or what he'd been living on for the last two days. I didn't sense any animosity in him either; if anything, he just looked nervous and a little scared. After another moment, I said, “You hungry? Why don't we get something to eat?”

Calvin looked nervously at Billy and she nodded. Using that soft tone that seemed so alien coming from her, she said, “Come on, you can ride in front. I'll take the back seat.” She led him over to the passenger side while I unlocked the car, and once he was seated in the front, she moved to the back. I looked over my shoulder at her and she nodded her head slightly.

I drove over to Lombard Street looking for an open diner and spotted the 24-hour IHOP. My passengers nodded in silent acknowledgment when I asked if it was suitable. Once inside and seated, Calvin said he needed the bathroom and left the table. I gave Billy a questioning look.

“He said GG directed him to us. He's scared and he wants our help.”

I smiled lightly. She'd found him…that was good, and perhaps it also meant she could help us find the demonic musketeer too. Maybe even Edgar, if we were really lucky.

“That's good, but how?” I asked. Some ghosts can and will communicate with us, but it's not verbal, so how did he get specific instructions from GG?

She said, “He didn't say…we can ask him later.”

I intended to do just that. I didn't like the idea that he'd found us when we didn't even know we were going to be at the bar in the first place.

Calvin returned a few minutes later, having washed his face and hands and run water through his hair, giving it a semi-combed look. His nervousness hadn't subsided much, but that didn't seem to affect his appetite. When the waiter arrived he ordered the Big Steak Omelet with a side of blueberry pancakes and an English muffin. Billy and I ordered more modest dishes of bacon, eggs, and toast.

After the waiter left, Calvin laid his hands on the table and began to pick at his fingers. Despite his recent attempt to clean up, the nails were black with dirt, and the cuticles and surrounding tissue were ragged and red with irritation. He worked at his fingers with a fidgety tension that cemented my earlier impression of a scared and nervous kid.

“Calvin, what happened in Marin? Why were you there?” Billy asked gently.

“To find you,” he said quietly.

“Why were you looking for us?” she asked.

“ʼCause, they told me to find you….”

I asked, “Who told you?”

He didn't answer. Instead, he began to sway back and forth at a mild pace and his complexion turned waxen. He looked completely exhausted, and I thought he was going to faint.

Billy asked, “Calvin, when was the last time you slept?”

He shrugged. “'Dunno. A few days, I guess.”

So he was exhausted and on the verge of collapse.
Great
, I thought…we weren't going to get much out of him tonight. I excused myself and left the table, pulling my cell phone out of my pocket as I headed toward the restrooms.

Aris answered on the second ring. “Aris, Calvin Brelong is with Billy and me. He's a wreck, but I think he'll cooperate if we can get him some rest and make him feel safe. There's no sign of the demon so far.” I finished up by briefly explaining how we came together and where we were.

I wasn't really that concerned about the musketeer demon showing up while the kid was with us. It had to know who we were by now, and I didn't think it would risk materializing in our presence since we'd happily relieve it of its current existence.

There was an interminable silence, and finally I said, “You still there?”

“Yes, I am. Will he come away with you?”

“I think so. I mean, he came to us in the first place, so I'm guessing he wants our help.”

“Good. Bring him to Lincoln Way as soon as possible. We will be able to protect him there.”

I disconnected the call and went back to the table. The food had arrived and Calvin was digging into it like a starved animal.

Billy looked at me curiously, and I said, “Calvin, we're going to take you to a safe place for the night. Is that okay?”

He glanced up at me. His eyes were green, much like Billy's, but the fiery intelligent passion that often weaponized her eyes wasn't there…his were blank and lost. It seemed to confirm what I'd sensed in Marin—this kid wasn't dealing with a full deck.

“Don't worry, Calvin. You'll be safe, I promise.” Billy's tone was soothing, almost motherly. I'd ask her where that came from later—it was so counterintuitive to her normal demeanor, and it was freaking me out a little.