The Fantastic Phantasmic Detective Agency: And the Rebel Realm

By D.L. Dugger

Abby, Toby, and Billy are ordinary detectives with extraordinary clients: G-G-Ghosts!

It's just another summer day of hunting frogs for young Billy, Abby, and Toby, when they stumble upon a deserted lake cabin and meet Mary, a real live ghost (!), searching for her lost locket. The trio offer to help her find it and the Fantastic Phantasmic Detective Agency is launched.

But when the agency enlists the help of a grumpy local medium to help them with their second request, locating a ghost's missing ghost brother, a mysterious visitor from the UnderWorld appears. Soon the youthful sleuths are entangled in a conflict between rebellious spirits, undead bounty hunters, officious Bureaucrats from the afterlife, and a very traitorous UnderWorld Demon Ambassador.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Sep 19, 2016
• ISBN: 9781483599403

Book preview

29

The tall, dark-haired creature called Zeaflin surveyed the forest with his deep amber eyes, searching for the perfect place to put the stone. It was still midsummer but there were plenty of dead leaves on the forest floor that would hide his object well; he just needed to find the correct spot. Zeaflin paused in his search when his gaze fell upon the old lakeside cabin a short distance from where he stood. He could catch the glint of sunlight scattering off the broken glass of one of the windows but there was no sign of the cabin’s inhabitant. That didn’t worry Zeaflin; he knew she was there, waiting impatiently as always for him to bring her one of the living. As your run-of–the-mill ghost, she didn’t understand the nuances of selecting the appropriate living for this job. Fortunately, Zeaflin did and they had finally arrived. He cocked his head to one side, listening to the voices of his selection, three children, before focusing back on the task at hand. There wasn’t much time before they would arrive at this spot in the woods.

The main path to the cabin was overgrown, save for a small break in the wild blackberry bushes. The roots of the bushes had trapped water from a recent rainstorm and that part of the path was thick with mud. Perhaps not something that would deter the boys, thought Zeaflin, but it might deter the girl. For added insurance, he leaned over and dipped his long-nailed finger into the mud and swirled. A deep gray fog burbled up from the mud with a popping noise, releasing an aroma of rot and death. Zeaflin wrinkled his nose in disgust and took a few steps back. He looked to the left of the main path. The bushes were too thick to pass that direction. He looked to the right. An old willow tree with low hanging branches was the only obstacle. Several of the willow’s roots peeked up through the dirt of the forest floor.

A sharp-toothed smile of approval passed Zeaflin’s lips as he stepped forward toward the tree. Dropping to his knees, he used his long, sharp fingernails to dig the dirt from around one of the shallowest tree roots until a small arch of root, perfect to snare one young girl’s foot, was exposed. His handiwork completed, Zeaflin reached into his front suit pocket and pulled out an irregularly-shaped object wrapped tightly in a red silk handkerchief. He removed the wrapping gingerly to reveal a milky white stone, smooth on one side but quite jagged on the other. The jagged side had deep black lines carved along the surface leading to a V-shaped trench. The apex of the V created a perfect funnel toward an almost imperceptible hole drilled deep into the stone.

Zeaflin brushed aside the leaf litter underneath the willow tree and placed the stone, jagged side up, a few feet from the exposed tree root. He then covered the stone with the litter and rose slowly to his feet. The children’s voices were growing near. It was time to leave. Zeaflin took one last look at the cabin and then vanished in a puff of gray smoke.

While Mary Waits

The ghost named Mary stood by the window of the cabin and looked out toward the lake. In the distance she could hear the sound of children’s voices and wondered if Zeaflin had also heard them and was somewhere nearby. He’d promised her he would bring someone living to help her find her locket but he had failed so far. Sure, she’d had several visitors to her cabin over the past few days but they neither saw nor heard her, so they must have failed to find the Seeing Stone. Or perhaps Zeaflin had failed to plant it.

Mary couldn’t understand why Zeaflin didn’t just put the stone in her cabin for the living to find. Surely they would pick it up, wouldn’t they? It was such a beautiful looking stone, milky white and translucent, much like an opal. But Zeaflin would just wave his hand dismissively whenever she suggested he leave it out in the open. He could be so stubborn and arrogant sometimes! Working with him was difficult. It tried Mary’s patience, and she was grateful that all she had left to do now was to obtain her locket and arrange a séance for Elizabeth. Then Zeaflin would finally summon John out of Halcyon and the two of them could live in the cabin until the usurper Belial was ousted from power and Ambrogio reinstated as the OtherWorld ruler. Once that happened, she and John could then return to the OtherWorld and enter Halcyon together.

Things might have been different if John had waited for her before moving on to Halcyon. They could have explored the StopOver shops together. But John was a simple man and Mary was certain he hated the commercialism of the StopOver. He must have decided it was better to wait for Mary to join him in Halcyon, even if it took her a while to get there. If only he knew how long it took to move on nowadays. Belial had created such a bureaucratic mess that few spirits ever moved on!

The voices of the children grew louder and Mary saw two boys who looked to be around eleven or twelve years old, one with blonde curls, the other with dark hair, emerge through the bushes on the path that led toward the cabin. Behind them, Mary saw a girl of similar age, red hair, pony-tailed, and freckled. The girl hesitated just before the break in the bushes and then veered off the main path. Mary lost sight of her so she focused her attention back on the two boys. The boys were drawing nearer yet they still showed no sign that they could see her standing by the window of her cabin. Mary sighed and wandered back into the cool shadows of her old home. She sat on the dusty chair in the corner and rested her head in her hands. Zeaflin must have failed her again.

I’ve got it! Billy cries out, jumping from his chair, pushing it back with a loud screech against the treehouse floor. We’ll call ourselves Sleuths Supernatural. He plops back down with a self-satisfied grin so typical of Billy. We’ve been debating the name of our detective agency for over an hour. Earlier suggestions, such as Grave Investigations and Phantom Sleuths, were soundly rejected. It’s not easy coming up with a title for a budding detective agency with ghostly clients.

It all began yesterday. Billy, Toby, and I were doing what you’d usually do on a warm summer afternoon, looking for frogs at the nearby lake. Well, if you could call it a lake—it was more like a reed-filled pond. A few years back the three of us would have gone swimming instead of frogging on such a nice summer day, but lack of rain and a few hot summers had reduced the lake to a shadow of its former glory. Luckily for us, it made it a great place for hunting frogs.

As we beat around the reeds, hoping to scare out a hopper, Toby suddenly grabbed my arm. Abby, look over there, he whispered sharply, pointing to a narrow opening in the wild blackberry bushes growing around the outer edge of the woods. I peered through the thin slit, seeing the sun dapple on what appeared to be a small shed or cabin.

What’s up? Billy piped in, nearly crashing into me as he rushed over to see what held our attention. Oh, he said with a disappointed shrug, it’s just an old fishing cabin or something.

But I think I saw something moving around inside through the window, Toby replied, his brow furrowed with worry.

Really? I don’t see how you could see anything through that dirty old window but hey, let’s go check it out, Billy said.

I felt uneasy. Wait! I hissed. What if it’s some crazy derelict or something?

Billy rolled his eyes and let out an exasperated sigh. "Abby, you’re such a girl sometimes."

With a disgusted shake of his head, Billy pressed forward on the path toward the bushes. I looked at Toby, who just shrugged and followed Billy. That was one of the problems hanging out with boys. They always seemed indifferent to danger; in fact I think sometimes they actually looked for it. As always, I followed them to lend the voice of reason when it might be needed. As if they’d listen!

I had almost caught up to the boys when they tromped through some muddy water on the path, stirring up a smell like dirty gym socks marinated in garlic. I decided I’d rather not traipse through that muck so I veered off to find a dry area to cross. The left side of the trail was impassable, unless I wanted to go home with a million scratches from the blackberry bush thorns. The right side was mostly clear, other than a willow tree with low hanging branches, so I headed that direction. I ducked under the lowest branch and felt a sharp tug. The branch had snagged my ponytail. I yanked my hair free, lost my balance, lurched forward, and caught my foot on a tree root sticking out of the ground.

That tree was trying to kill me!

I fell to my knees and caught myself just before I planted my face into the leaves carpeting the forest floor. Ouch, I cried out, feeling a sharp pain in my left palm. Something had sliced into my hand. I pulled my hand out of the leaves to look it over. Small droplets of blood dripped from a thin slit, as narrow as a paper cut, in the center of my palm. Ouch, I repeated for good measure and then dug into the leaf litter to find the offending rock and chuck it into the lake so it wouldn’t be able to attack anybody else.

After I uncovered the stone I changed my mind and decided to spare it the watery demise. I’d never seen one like it before. It was milky white, almost pearlescent. It had a sharp, jagged surface that was etched with black lines that came together in a V-shape. In the groove of the V was a small smudge of red which I assumed was my blood. I carefully picked the stone up. It was smooth as a pebble on the underside. Strange. Usually the upside of a stone is smooth, not the downside.

I popped up quickly and hurried to catch up with Billy and Toby. Wait up, guys! I found something! I called out. The boys were almost to the cabin. They both turned at the sound of my voice and stopped next to a maple tree, where they stood in its shade to wait for me. I ran to them and held out the stone, bursting with pride over my discovery.

Cool stone, huh? I declared. Billy eyed the rock jealously and reached out to take it from me. Be careful, I warned. It has a sharp edge on one side. It cut me.

Billy shrugged nonchalantly and, as usual, didn’t heed my warning. Instead, he ran his finger over the jagged edge as if to test out how sharp it is. "Ow! That is sharp! Billy exclaimed, holding up his finger to examine the damage. A thin stream of blood dribbled down the side of his finger and dripped onto the forest floor. Billy pulled a handkerchief from his back jean pocket and applied pressure to the wound. Then he handed the stone over for Toby to examine. This has to be an opal of some sort, wouldn’t you say, Toby?"

Toby took the stone from Billy’s hand, careful to avoid the sharp edge. He held the stone up to the sunlight and peered at it with one eye. I don’t think it’s an opal. It looks more like a moonstone. It’s flawed, though. See the red bubble in the center?

That wasn’t there before, I said defensively, snatching the stone from Toby’s hand to take a look.

Ouch! That hurt, Abby! Toby cried out, his blood now added to the stone along with Billy’s and mine. Toby sucked his wounded finger and gave me a dirty look.

Billy laughed. Hey, we’re all blood brothers now! Toby and I both rolled our eyes.

Let’s go check out the cabin, Billy suggested, obviously no longer interested in my stone. While the boys forged on ahead, I lagged behind so I could gather up a few maple leaves to wrap around my treasure before I put it into my jean pocket. No sense in taking the chance it might cut through my pocket and into my leg.

By the time I caught up to the boys, they were already peering into the cabin window, a small opening with cracked, dirty glass. I opened my mouth, prepared to warn them about broken glass, infections and tetanus shots, when Toby, quick as a dart, dropped to a crouch, dragging Billy down with him. So there is someone in the cabin, I thought. My heart skipped a beat when I saw a look of alarm cross Billy’s face as he lost his balance and, with a muffled cry and flailing arms, tottered into the dead leaves surrounding the cabin.

The resulting crunch shattered the silence of the woods like a gunshot. The noise drew a startled, pale woman to the cabin window. She looked out at me. I stared back. She was a pretty woman, with dark eyes and light brown hair that hung in waves down past her shoulders. Around her neck I could see a thin gold chain that she was nervously twisting in her right hand. Then the sun moved out of the clouds and a shaft of sunlight highlighted the woman. My heart pounded even harder and I began to feel faint because I could see the peeling paint of the cabin wall behind her right through her face!

A g-g-ghost!

My heart was pounding so hard that I wondered if Billy and Toby could hear it beating. I had to sit down. I sat down so quick and hard that I let out a squeak of pain. Looking up, I saw the woman had vanished from the window. In horror, I watched her dissolve through the cabin wall as she rushed straight toward me.

Are you all right? the ghost asked with concern. I’m sorry if I startled you. The living usually cannot see me but I can see that you do. She knelt down beside me. I sat stunned, at a complete loss for words.

What’s with you, Abby? You look like you’ve seen a ghost, Billy chuckled, nudging Toby in the ribs. But Toby didn’t laugh. Instead his mouth formed a perfect O of shock, his eyes glued on the woman kneeling beside me. Billy frowned, his face changing from amusement to worry. What is it? he asked. Toby just shook his head.

You don’t see her? I asked, looking back at the ghost. She’s right here next to me!

Billy looked at the ghost. No, he said slowly. Toby only sat on his haunches and stared.

I cleared my throat and tried to focus on the woman. She was wearing a faded blue dress with small pink and green flowers that looked like tiny roses and daisies. I didn’t know that ghosts could appear in color; I always thought they would be a muted gray. I’m okay, thank you, I replied, finding my voice, although it was a bit shaky.

Yeah, I can see that, Billy said, unconvinced. The ghost woman smiled.

He doesn’t see you, does he? I asked her.

No, but the other boy does, she replied with a nod toward Toby.

Who are you? I asked. Are you a ghost?

Yes, dear, I am a ghost. My name is Mary Johnson, the woman replied.

Toby’s curiosity overcame his shock. What are you doing here? he asked. Are you haunting this cabin?

Mary smiled. Not exactly. I’m here looking for my locket that vanished sometime before I awoke at the StopOver, a sort of ghost processing area in the spirit realm of the OtherWorld.

At first Billy took some convincing that Toby and I hadn’t prearranged to pull his chain. To convince him, Mary decided to walk right through him. The chill of her passing through his body caused Billy’s hair to stand on end, giving the impression of a boy who had put his finger in an electrical socket. This prompted much giggling from Toby and me and convinced Billy we were in the presence of something supernatural.

He should be able to see and hear me eventually. It takes some people more time than others to accept what they see, Mary explained. Funny, I’d never have pegged Billy as a cynic. I’d have thought I’d be the one who couldn’t see or hear spirits.

Mary invited us into the cabin and proceeded to tell us her tale. She was a mother of two children, a boy named Henry and a girl named Nelly, both now adults. Her husband John had died a few years before Mary and it was her grief from his loss that led to her gradual decline. While she was slowly fading away, Mary found comfort in the locket she always wore around her neck. It was given to her by John on their wedding night 25 years before his death. It was heart-shaped and inscribed To Mary, my light and my life. Inside the locket, John had placed a photo of Mary sitting in front of the café just before John proposed. On the other side was a photo of John, beaming proudly, following her acceptance of his marriage proposal. Mary never took the pendant off after John died. But all that remained now was an empty chain around her neck.

When Mary grew weaker and her time grew near, Nell and Henry gathered by her bedside. They held her hand and eased her gently to sleep with hushed childhood stories of the time they’d spent together as a family. Once Mary finally awoke from her slumber, she found herself in a bright white room. The floors were white, the walls were white, even the chairs were a bright white. She was alone, except for a woman who was dressed in the same bright white of the room. The woman sat behind a white desk, stamping equally bright white sheets of paper with a dark red seal. The stamping sound reverberated against the walls of the tiny room. After a few moments, Mary worked up the nerve to clear her throat to gain attention. The stamping stopped in mid-swing and the woman looked up.

I’m sorry, I didn’t see you come in, the woman in white said, placing the stamp down on its pad.

Where am I? Mary asked.

Why, you’re in the waiting room, of course! the woman replied with a look of surprise.

Waiting room for what? Mary asked, looking around the room.

For the spirit realm, where else? The woman picked up her stamp from its pad. There’s always a backup with the guides. I’d give it a few more minutes.

Shortly, a man dressed in a pale blue suit opened a door next to the woman behind the desk and beckoned Mary inside. The first thing Mary noticed were the people, all a bluish translucence, and all seeming to be in a hurry. The door to the waiting room had opened into a type of phantom city! The translucent people were dressed in all types of clothes, from dresses and suits that looked to be from the 1800s all the way to modern day blue jeans and T-shirts.

They wear what they were buried in or, if never buried, what they died in, the attendant next to Mary explained.

What is this place? Mary asked.

Some people call it Pholk Village but we prefer to call it ‘the StopOver’. It’s where pholks pick up supplies for their final destination. You can see, he said pointing to a woman in a 1920s style flapper dress, that some stay longer than others before moving on.

Why is that? Mary asked.

The attendant shrugged. I guess they’re just not ready to move on yet. Everyone has their own schedule.

But where do they go when they move on?

It’s called Halcyon, Mary. It’s a place of peace and relaxation. The StopOver is more comfortable for the newly deceased, as it’s more like the living realm. Some spirits feel more comfortable here and choose to stay longer. However, we don’t force anyone to move on until they feel ready.

Mary marveled at all the shops lining the street of the pholk StopOver. They had created a truly amazing world designed exclusively for the recently departed. All of the shops had ghostly names and themes. For specters with a sweet tooth, there was the Phantasmal Patisserie and the Spectral Sweets Shoppe. A little farther down the street, for those spirits that preferred something a little stronger than lollipops, there was the Wraithy Waterhole, complete with Wild West-style swinging doors. After libations at the Waterhole, hungry pholks could grab a bite to eat at the Apparitional Eaterie.

Wait a sec, interrupted Toby. "Ghosts can eat?"

Of course they can! Billy scoffed. "Haven’t you ever seen Ghostbusters? Remember Slimer?"

Mary laughed. Well, we don’t eat living people food. Our food must be made in the spirit realm.

Billy was squinting at Mary. I think he’s beginning to see me now, she said, wriggling her fingers in front of his face.

I do see you now! Billy cried excitedly. And I can hear you too!

Good for you, I said, rolling my eyes. But secretly, I was glad we’d no longer have to repeat the things Mary said for Billy.

When did you first notice your locket was missing? I asked Mary.

Very soon after I arrived at the StopOver. I was so overwhelmed by it all that I didn’t think of it until I wondered where John was.

So he wasn’t in the StopOver? I asked.

No. Mary sighed. He must be on the other side, waiting for me.

Then why don’t you just go see him? The real him, I mean, instead of worrying about a silly old necklace with his picture in it, Billy interjected.

Oh, I couldn’t bear to let John know I lost his most precious gift to me! Mary cried.

OK, but why are you looking for it in this old, deserted cabin? Billy asked.

Mary chuckled. This ‘old, deserted cabin’ used to be my home. I moved here after John died. The lake was so beautiful then, and I found solace in watching the sun rise over the trees and seeing it set each day over the lake.

That must have been some time ago, Billy said. That lake’s been a dingy old swamp for a few years now.

Mary shrugged. I cannot say how long I slept before I awoke in the waiting room.

I take it you haven’t found your locket yet. Do you want us to help you look for it? I offered, remembering how awful I felt the day I discovered I’d lost the friendship bracelet my best friend Lucy had given me on the day she and her family moved out of state. Even though that was five years ago, I still felt a lump in my throat at the thought of it.

I’ve looked over the cabin very carefully, Mary replied. It’s just not here, I’m afraid. If it’s somewhere else, it is lost to me. The OtherWorld only granted permission to explore the cabin grounds. I’m not allowed to leave to look anywhere else. Mary’s lower lip trembled and a gossamer-like tear rolled down her ghostly cheek.

I glanced over at Billy; he’s generally our problem solver. But Billy remained silent and stared uncomfortably at his feet. He never did feel comfortable with tears. I decided to take charge. Maybe we can look around for you, then. Do you have any idea where else we should look, outside of the cabin? I asked Mary.

Mary shook her head. I was wearing the locket on this chain when I died, I’m sure of that. And I died here in the cabin. I have no idea where else it could be.

Toby jumped in. Were you wearing the necklace when they, er…buried you? he asked, squirming a little in his shoes.

Mary shrugged. I don’t know. I don’t remember anything after I fell asleep. But I did ask Nell to be sure to bury me in my green and pink flowered dress. Mary tugged at the skirt of her dress. Which she did. And I also asked to be buried with the locket, which I apparently wasn’t.

Could Nell have the locket? I asked. It seemed a logical explanation. But Mary shook her head violently.

Nell isn’t like that. If I asked her to bury me with the locket, she would do it unquestioningly. She knew how much that necklace meant to me.

Maybe someone else took your locket after you were buried? Billy hypothesized.

Really, Billy? Grave robbers? In today’s day and age? I scolded.

Mary smiled faintly at the notion. The locket wasn’t valuable in monetary terms. I doubt anyone would take the trouble to dig me up just for that.

I had a thought. Did you have a wake? Could someone have taken the locket before you were buried without Nell knowing about it? Like at the funeral home?

Mary looked thoughtful. Yes, I imagine I did have a wake. I suppose someone could have taken it from me there.

Billy perked up. Then we’ll start there. We can interview the funeral director, find out if he remembers seeing anyone messing around your casket during the wake. Or maybe after it. Where did you have your wake?

Probably at Simon and Son Mortuary. It’s the only funeral home in Rossville, the town where we raised Nell and Henry, Mary replied. Nell still lives there and I’m sure she took care of all of the arrangements. Henry wasn’t one to take on such a responsibility.

Boys never are, I muttered, earning a jab in the ribs from Toby.

Great! Rossville is only about thirty minutes away by train. We’ll head out there tomorrow morning, talk to the director, and then come back here to let you know what we found out, Billy offered.

It was getting late in the day. The sun had sunk below the tree line, leaving a misty gloom over the lake. I glanced at my watch. Yikes! I gotta go, I declared. Dinner is at six and it’s almost 5:30 pm now.

Yeah, me too, Toby said. So we gave Mary a quick wave goodbye, promising to return the following afternoon to let her know what we had discovered.

Dinner was on the table when I walked through the door. The smell of fried chicken and biscuits rose pleasantly from the dining room.

Abigail, is that you? Mom called out from the kitchen.

Yes, Mom, I’m home, I replied and headed for the kitchen to join her. Mom was just slipping on a pair of oven mitts when I entered.

Dinner is almost ready. Could you go find your father? she asked. I think he’s in the garden.

Dad was a rabid gardener, meticulously pulling weeds, propping up sagging tomato plants on stakes, watering, feeding, and spraying in his epic battle to grow the best darned tomatoes, peas, and squash in the neighborhood. I found him bent over, his wide-brimmed hat pulled low to protect his eyes from the fading late afternoon sun.

Dad, Mom says it’s time for dinner! I called out, stepping outside through our rear screen door. Dad stood up from his weeding and stretched long to work the kinks from his back.

Hey, Pumpkin! Want to see the perfect tomato plant? I think this is the best one I’ve ever grown.

I grimaced. Later, Dad. Dinner will get cold.

Suit yourself, Dad said with a shrug and walked across the yard to join me. He pulled his hat from his head and dropped it onto my much smaller one, where it drooped dangerously low over my eyes. We walked to the dinner table together, Dad’s arm draped over my shoulders. OK, I admit, I was a bit of a daddy’s girl.

The next morning, while I was finishing up breakfast, Billy called. The first train to Rossville is at 9 am. I already called Toby. He’ll meet us at the station at 8:30 am.

Sounds good, I said, glancing at the clock. 8:15 am, still time to wash the breakfast dishes. After I finished cleaning the kitchen, I found Mom and Dad in the backyard. Dad was showing Mom his prized tomato plant. Mom, always

Reviews for The Fantastic Phantasmic Detective Agency

[annarellix-322425 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

I was attracted by the title and the cover and it was a good attraction. This book is great and once I started I had to read as fast as I could.
It is entertaining, well written and the characters are interesting and likeable. It is also full of humour and a lot of fantastic moments.
Really recommended.
Many thanks to BooksGoSocial and Netgalley