Don't Speak To The Dead

By Kaspar Von Langfeld

DON”T SPEAK TO THE DEAD, is a fast paced, exciting story with plenty of surprising twists and turns.Two brothers are abducted by a ghost and taken back in time to solve his murder. Will they bring the culprit to justice and make it back alive?
Cooper falls in love, Flynn gets shot and when they return they are not the same boys that left.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Kaspar Von Langfeld
• Release date: May 27, 2011
• ISBN: 9781458029416

Kaspar Von Langfeld

I am a ghost and a writer. I was born in 1812 in Langfeld, Switzerland. My death occurred 1851 in San Francisco. How? That I do not know. For some time now I have followed the lives of Flynn and Cooper Anderson with great interest! I've watched them closely and recorded their heroic deeds as they have assisted my friends from the Netherworld.

Book preview

Chapter 1 – Ghost Story

"You mean, you actually saw Maxfield Goldman 31 years after his death?" Flynn asked.

Aye lad, he was dead and buried, yet I saw him lookin as real as you see me here—and that's a fact. Mr. McTammany said, in his thick highland brogue. I expect you were wanting a ghostie tale about a ruined castle in the glen, or a banshee story with a spirit all wispy white whitherin about the craggy hills. No! This really happened, right here on the clear blue waters of Lake Tahoe.

Flynn and Cooper moved closer to the camp fire to get a better look at McTammany’s face. It was the first time they saw him so animated and lively. His blue eyes sparked like fire.

He can say anything. Even when he just orders a cheeseburger, people stop to listen. Flynn thought.

Hey, did you notice his biceps? For a guy his age he looks awesome, Cooper whispered.

Coop is always judging things by the exterior, Flynn thought. "It’s because he’s so good looking himself; sixteen, blond haired, blue eyed, tall, athletic and he’s a social animal! Everybody loves him. He doesn’t see it, but he’s really just like Mom. Me on the other hand, I’m eleven months younger than him and even though some people say we look like twins, it’s just not so. I’m two inches shorter and wear wire rimmed glasses. I use the frontal lobes of my brain, whereas he’s purely instinctive. My hair is straight and his is curly. He’s got real muscles and my arms are skinny. Any real observer should see that Coop and I couldn’t be more different. I’m more like Dad, he’s introspective, always thinking about everything and analyzing it all, and that’s how I am too.

Flynn’s thoughts went back to McTammany. He has something mysterious about him. So far he’s been as silent as a wooden figurehead. None of us know anything about this guy, except that he’s supposed to be the Scottish expert at orienteering . He arrived yesterday from Scotland on an exchange with our scoutmaster, Williams, and now that he’s finally talking, it’s my chance to figure out what he’s all about.

Me story’s simple, Mr. McTammany said, as he stroked his short cropped white beard that covered his face like a mask. Some see, some don't, and I'm one that saw. Back In 1959, when I was just about as old as some of you, seventeen to be exact, I had the opportunity to come here on an exchange party from Scotland to become an Eagle. We camped in this very spot and this is where I saw the apparition. He paused, and stroked his white hair with both gnarled hands. It was parted in the middle and pulled back smoothly in a tight woven braid that hung like a rope down to his belt.

What are you talking about? Cooper asked.

"I saw a ghost ship! Not with pirates sailing through the sky like, no, it was a big yacht from the 20s. I was standing alone on the shore, practicing directionals from the stars, when out of nowhere it appeared and drew up close to the beach. It was all lit up, ready for a party like, and a fine gentleman in evening clothes and a red tail coat came out on the deck and beckoned to me. He wore a black theatrical mask. ‘Come aboard for refreshments lad!’He called out. I thought a costume party was happening on board. As he drew closer I could see he was alone. The boat's name was gilded on varnished mahogany, Avenger it was called, and I was to find out soon after, the fastest boat in its day. It once belonged to Maxfield Goldman.

Then all of a sudden, McTammany continued, I had such a sense of foreboding that I ran and hid among the fallen pines on the beach. He cruised slowly, looking for me and callin to me to come aboard. I was all amuck with sweat and fear, and ran shaking back to the camp. I felt foolish, a big Scot like me, afraid to the marrow of my bones—scared of a gentleman in fancy dress."

What’d you do then?Flynn asked.

"Nothing and I never told a soul. Days later, our troop was takin a tour of the historic mansion that Maxfield Goldman once owned along the shore. The tour guide showed us his home and grounds. She said, half joking, that he's sometimes seen haunting the coast in his big yacht. You can imagine the hair stood up on the back of my neck! I had to find out who this Max Goldman was.

Was it the same Goldman that owned Goldman’s bank in San Francisco? Flynn asked.

Aye, that’s the one, Laddie.

Coop! That’s one of the former owners of Dad’s bank! I know about him. Flynn whispered.

Through the years, youngsters have reported seeing his big boat, but no adult really believes the tale. Well, I do, laddies. I saw it with me own eyes! And my advice to you is this: If you see this ghost, or any other, don’t speak to him. It’s bound to bring a world of trouble!

You can see by the sincere expression in his eyes and that he really believes it, Flynn thought, He’s not making this up, he’s convinced it’s true.

Hey, no offense, but I don't believe in ghosts, and don't really care about history either. It bores me. Cooper said, laughing. Good story, though.

Mind what you say! Mr. Mc Tammany said. Have you never heard of Edmund Burke, the English philosopher and politician? Mr. Burke wrote, ‘Those who don't know history are destined to repeat it.’ Your ignorance may buy you more than you bargained for.

Then his face returned to its stoic stillness. He didn’t add any more to his tale, but stared into the fire, his countenance now devoid of any expression.

Oh, great, I wish Coop would think before he opens his big mouth. Flynn thought, Now McTammany isn’t going to say another word. It’s like a vault door to a treasure house had been quietly closed, never to be opened again.

The boys of troop 14 sat silent, a little embarrassed and not knowing what to say. Then Speck Malarkey grinned like a goon and started in on one of his never ending, boring spook stories:

Dudes, I don’t believe in ghosts either; but here’s a good one. ‘This guy and his girlfriend, they drove up this dirt lane to go parking and make out. Anyway, this dog starts howling and the guy says he's gonna chase it away. But the girl says she's scared, and he shouldn’t get out of the car. Anyway the guy gets out and…

Come on, Coop, Flynn said quietly, Let’s get our gear ready.

He polished the tip of his tall black boots on the back of his knee high socks as he nudged his brother. We know how Malarkey's boring stories end already, we hear them every year.

Boo! Bloody Fingers! Bloody Fingers! Cooper whispered, sarcastically, "Hey, real scary, Malarkey."

The two of them stole away to their tent.

Coop, I read about Goldman in the stacks at the San Francisco library, Flynn said, as they packed their gear in the dark. "I found out more about him than most people like to mention. He wasn’t squeaky clean. He had a casino disguised like a guesthouse near his property. The wealthy and famous from all over would come there to gamble and one night at a party, Max Goldman was shot to death. The murder was never solved, but hushed up, I think. The case remains open to this day. The records only say he died with a child's toy in his hand. Then a few nights later, the Avenger mysteriously disappeared."

I don’t know why you waste your time reading all that goofy stuff, Brainiac. It’s just a bunch of useless hooey, Cooper said, Now, let’s get going! and with that he left the tent.

They silently found their way down to the shore. It was against the rules to go fishing late into the night, but they did it every year and so far had never gotten caught.

Chapter 2 – Into The Deep

Hey, do you think Mac Tammany sleeps real heavy, like Williams? Cooper wondered.

Even if he doesn't, I still think we’re safe, Flynn answered. He's not the type to check up on everybody. They slipped the light wooden skiff into the lake and rowed around the point to a deep fishing hole. Once the campfires were out of sight, Flynn lit the Coleman lamp.

We always land some decent size bass here. Cooper said, as he started baiting the hooks. Hey, Bud, why didn't you say anything back there when Mac Tammany started b.s.ing about ghosts? You don't believe that trash do you?

Well, yes I do. The story seems wild, but Mac Tammany’s not the kind who would lie. And in a way the story makes sense. Let's say somebody takes something really valuable from you. I know you, Coop, you wouldn't stop until you found out who it was and make them pay for it. Remember the time Malarkey stole your snack at school when you were in fourth grade? You were so mad you had to figure out who did it, and then you went after him, took it back and got suspended for giving him a bloody nose and that was only a snack! I figure that guy Max Goldman is just snooping around trying to find out who took his life. After all, what could be more valuable? I guess once he figures that out, he'll rest in peace.

Hooey, Bud! Hooey! Ghosts don't exist, period.

You can't prove that, Coop.

Don’t argue with me, Flynn. I'm older than you; just take my word for it, they don't exist. Now pass me the bag of chips, I’m hungry.

Eleven months is hardly much older. Besides, you don't read. You don't like history, or philosophy. You don't care about metaphysics, or mathematics. All you understand is what you can grind between your teeth.

Not true! I do like to read!

Sports Illustrated doesn't count.

Okay, Brainiac. But, if Mom were here, she would agree with me about the ghosts.

That's because she's just like you, she doesn't think things through—she just looks at the hull. Unlike you I want to know about the kernel.

No way, Bud! I see it like this: You think too much, and it always makes you worry about stuff. Besides, that's why I‘m so good at sports. When the ball comes, I don't think, I hit

Flynn didn't answer. He knew it was true, in every sport that demanded quick wits and instant reaction, Cooper was better. The guy had the instincts of a leopard.

After an hour they didn't have one bite.

This is lousy, Cooper said, I'm rowing! The water was exceptionally calm and glassy. The air was still and almost stifling. I'm going straight across towards South Shore. It’s better over there.

We probably shouldn't, Flynn said, it's a risky thing being that far out at night.

Nothing’s going to happen, Fraidy Cat. Anyway, it's a lot shorter than rowing along the edge of the lake. They took turns rowing and were soon a good mile offshore.

Man, this weather’s strange. It's never so hot here at night.Cooper said, and wiped his sweaty forehead on the sleeves of his khaki scout uniform. From time to time a cool gust blew erratically, followed by more moist oppressive heat. Far off in the Nevada Mountains lightning flickered, revealing the underside of thick thunderheads.

We better go back, there's going to be a squall. It could be dangerous, Flynn said. His forehead looked like a plowed field.

Hey, forget it! It doesn't rain here in the summer and you know it. Cooper said, panting slightly and still rowing. Anyway, those clouds are far off. Even if they come this way, we'll be across for sure before they arrive. The sporadic gusts were coming one after another now with a deathly, still calm in between.

I’ve read extensively about weather patterns, Coop. In the Sierras during the summer there can be rare, sudden rain squalls accompanied by heavy precipitation, high winds, lightning and hail.

Cooper laughed. Okay, whatever. You take over rowing now, Weather Man.

They were two miles out. As soon as Flynn had the oars in his hands, he pulled hard for South Shore. Cooper reached over and messed up his hair. Hey, I'll bet that drives you crazy, and you can't fix it.

Don't be dumb, Coop! We need to get to land quickly!

The humid wind was strong and gusty, driving confused wavelets against the skiff. Just then, lightning flashed, sending chains of bolts across the sky and illuminating the mighty storm clouds that were now almost directly above them. Immediately a strong wind howled down from its mountain hideout like unleashed canines.

We're in for it!Flynn called out. Then the sky broke and rain lashed down on them in sheets, driven by the furious gale. The surface of the lake was stirred up into a black froth, like an evil brew. It’s all I can do to keep the bow pointed into the storm so we don’t capsize. Throw out the bait! Use the can to bail! He shouted.

Cooper bailed furiously. I can barely keep up with it! he shouted back, we're gonna need help or we’ll sink!" Just then it started to hail. The ice struck them like buckshot, fired from a 12 gauge. They could do nothing but cover their heads and hunker down in the bottom of the boat.

Chapter 3 – Avenger

Ahoy, down there, come aboard for some refreshments lads, you must be drenched to the bone.

Flynn and Cooper looked up. The hail had stopped, but the rain still poured down at a terrific rate. A huge yacht had come out of nowhere and drawn right up next to the skiff. In the shelter of its side the wind was not so fierce. Floodlights shone over the rail, and they couldn't see who was talking to them above the blinding light.

Don’t answer him Coop! Don’t even think about talking to him. Row for the shore! I’m so scared my knees are shaking! Let’s escape now while we have a chance!

Hey, are you kidding? Look at our skiff; it’s half full of water and ice! We don’t have a choice but to get on board and save ourselves.

I'm lowering slings. Get the bow and stern secured, and I’ll bring you aboard, boat and all,