Ghost Detectives: Book III the Nursery Rhyme Murders: Ghost Detective, #3

By lost lodge press

George and Marion are veteran detectives, partners for ten years. But when a bust goes bad they’re killed. George from a shotgun blast, Marion a knife to the back. Filled with shock they watch as their bodies are bagged and taken away.
Seemingly alone and with a thousand questions they venture to a hill top to look down on their funeral exchanging impressions as they watch. But their conversation is overhead by a homeless man. How can that be? They soon learn from a fortune teller, that they’ve left this mortal coil but not the world they lived in. They’re Ghosts.
When they visit the police station they called home away from home for over a decade they’re greeted by the police chief who like the fortune teller can see and hear them and he needs their special help on a case. 
With a homeless man, a Fortune Teller and their old boss they’re tackling cases in the world they thought they left behind only now they’re Ghost Detectives.

• Language: English
• Publisher: lost lodge press
• Release date: Apr 29, 2017
• ISBN: 9781386369660

Book preview

Chapter One

Jillian Gainer attached the hose to the forty gallon barrel while her partner Freddy secured the swing stage scaffolding with the anchors on the protruding wall of the roof and ran the tiebacks across to the opposite top edge.

The Portland Wells Fargo building was 41 stories and the pride of the Gainer glass and window cleaning company. Jillian’s father was the founder of the business that had been cleaning the windows of Portland’s skyscrapers for decades.

Fred walked along the length of the cable tiebacks to where they attached to the cast iron anchors on the short wall that ran the perimeter of the top. He walked from end to end inspecting the entire Scaffold where it attached at either end. The company used radio operated hoists and ropes, cable were reserved for the tiebacks.

Jillian lay what looked like a vacuum cleaner hose from the 40 gallon barrel of solution  in a giant coil then over the lip of the building to the spray apparatus holstered at the end of the scaffold. She stepped onto the scaffold and checked the buckets of shammy and squeegee then she clipped onto the scaffold  rail.

Ready when you are. How does everything look?

Fred  stepped from the lip to the Scaffold next to her but didn’t clip on. It was his habit to until they were set in place in front of the first row of windows.

Everything is dry tight and locked in place. He removed the hoist’s radio control from his belt and looked first left then right for a last visual check of the hoists and anchors. When he pressed descend the scaffolding dropped slowly and smoothly. There was only a slight bounce when they stopped in front of the first row of window.

Jillian removed the sprayer from it’s holster and coated the window with the special solution that would loosen grime. Fred pulled a squeegee and shammy from the bucket when the sprayer began to hiss. He looked over at Jillian.

It’s sucking air, must be a break in the hose.

She responded to his look of question. I examined every foot of that hose before we came up and did a pressure test back at the shop.

Without a word he pressed ascend. His head spun at the soft ripping sound of the rope separating.

Shit.

She holstered the sprayer and grabbed the rail as one side of the scaffolding sagged and uttered one word. Tiebacks?

Fred was looking up, couldn’t take his eyes off the hoist. This is exactly why we have cables for the tiebacks. Just hang on.

The words were just out of his mouth when the cable that backed the hoist with the severed rope began to hum, then like a whip it snapped over the side.

The right end of the scaffold dropped until the swing stage was nearly vertical. Fred lost his grip on the rail flipped over the side and pin wheeled the 40 stories to the sidewalk below. Jillian slid to the low end of the scaffold until her legs hung over the edge, saved by her safety line. Then in a moment the rope separated and the upped end dropped a foot supported  only by the tieback from going further. The hum of the cable was followed by her scream as it let go and the entire scaffold carrying Jillian Gainer tumbled through the air stopped just short of the sidewalk by a Dodge Minivan.

Inside Portland Police Central the Captain’s personal secretary walked briskly from the coffee machine to her desk phone. She picked up on the third ring.

Police Central, this is Claire.

The voice at the other end was a cross between a poor Boris Karloff and Peter Lori imitation, reflexively she pushed the record button on the side of the phone.

Jack and Jill went up the hill to fetch a pail of water. Jack fell down and broke his crown and Jill came tumbling after. I wouldn’t bank at Wells Fargo today but you might read the Oregonian head line tomorrow.

She recorded ten seconds of dead air before responding.

Hello. Hello who’s is this? Then there was dial tone.

She bustled down the short hall and knocked on her bosses door and entered without waiting for a response.

Dennis Walters was on the phone and held up one finger indicating that Claire should wait.

Yes thank you. He looked up at his secretary. What?

Sir I just received a phone call you need to listen to. Patch it through?

He pressed the connect button on the intercom. Ready.

She stepped back into the hall and at her desk pressed play then hurried back to Walters office just as the message was playing.

How long ago did you take this?

Fifteen minutes.

I just got off the line with fire and rescue. Window washer scaffolding malfunction dropped both washers forty floor at the Wells Fargo building. I’ve got Glenn and Morris redirecting traffic and Walker talking to the business.

When the recording ended he looked up. I want you to contact the Newspaper and see if they got anything like this.

Walter went to the Wells Fargo building