Forever Haunted: The Forever Detective, #2

By Helen Krummenacker

The year is 1947 and private investigator Rafael Jones has already learned the hard way that the supernatural is all too real. Having been turned into a vampire, he's trying to continue his work as a detective, while attempting to adapt to and understand his condition. 

 

Now he has a new case to deal with. A friend has asked him to prove a mansion he's inherited is NOT haunted. Unfortunately, it is... and the ghost needs Rafael for help and justice.

 

Can our hero find answers and evidence a 20 year old cold case no one knew about? Can he find the Prohibition gangster who murdered the young flapper? These things are harder than you'd expect them to be with a view of the murder on replay. As Rafael finds out, the secrets of the supernatural are not known only to the good guys, but to gangsters who have access to magic making them all the more dangerous. 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Helen Krummenacker
• Release date: Dec 3, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223507048

Helen Krummenacker

Helen Krummenacker is uncomfortable talking about herself in the third person, so I won’t. I’ve always loved writing and helped create the Para-Earth Series with my husband Allan, though he has done most of the writing on it. Later, I started The Forever Detective series, and this is a spin-off from that. I have a B.S. in Mathematics, and hope that writing proofs has helped keep my fiction streamlined and without serious plot holes. Of course, like most people, I yell at characters who do stupid things when I’m reading or watching a movie, and thus try to avoid giving others reason to yell. Hobbies include gardening, dancing, and painting. Health issues limit my activity level, but I manage to work in accounting by day and escape into mystery and adventure genres at night.

Book preview

A REAL GHOST

Ihad only been up for five minutes, and it had already been a long day. Sunset hadn’t just been my signal to awake. It was also the cue for the ghosts to take their places and run their scene. I’ve seen a few deaths before, although homicide had never been my assignment in my days with the police, but this was the first time I was witness to a murder that had already happened.

The first thing I saw when I opened my eyes was the woman, adjusting her stockings, and that was worth waking up to. She wore a beaded dress, something pricey that shimmered as she moved like light on a lake. It looked like she was getting ready to go out to a party. She’d just fixed her hair the way she wanted it, slick curls like  scrollwork on her forehead under a jeweled band, standing before a large mirror that was still there in my time, when the guy came in. He was angry. He shouted some question at her but while I could see the ghosts, I couldn’t hear them. She didn’t seem to like his attitude and snapped something back. She started to turn back to the mirror but he grabbed her wrist and twisted her around to face him. Her expression started to change from irritated to frightened as he demanded more of an answer from her. She wasn’t sassy this time, but it didn’t help. He grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her. She drew in a deep breath like she was preparing to scream then, but she never got anything out. His hands flew from her shoulders to her throat and her breath was trapped inside as he crushed her windpipe.

It had happened 20, maybe 25 years ago. I couldn’t do anything but watch it happen again, and I couldn’t stop watching until the moment her mind had gone blank and the scene stopped. Then I was all action, getting to the phone. I dialed my client. 

Two rings and then he picked up. Hello?

Jimmy, I’ve got some bad news for you. I can’t tell your buyers that the house isn’t haunted.

What are you talking about?

Do you know anything about a murder that happened here a couple of decades ago?

No! Raf, I told you, I inherited this house from my grandmother. How could anyone have been murdered there?

Strangulation.

That’s not funny.

No, it wasn’t. It was awful. No one’s going to buy this house unless this haunting ends, or unless they have a very strange attitude towards women. Which was a shame.  The place had been built during the time of the Arts & Crafts/ Art Nouveau movement. There were sinuous curves to the bannisters and hardware, mosaic tiles in the bathrooms, intricate stained glass designs in the doors, naturalistic carvings in the wood, and everything just subtle enough that you often had more of a subconscious sense of nature touching the building unless you paid the artistry direct attention.

But if I can’t sell it, I can’t pay the property taxes and I’ll forfeit everything. I don’t understand why grandma gave me the house and gave my rich cousin the money.

The house seems to be worth more.

Doesn’t do a music teacher much good.

Jimmy Clarke and I had gone to college together for the semester I’d been able to. Then the Great Depression hit and my dad could help the community by letting his customers run on credit for a while, or he could keep me in school. I chose to get a job as a beat cop. So much for a musical career. Jimmy’s parents had taken a hit on their savings, too, but his grandparents were the kind of wealthy that kept on doing just fine. Thanks to them, he’d been able to follow his bliss and support himself, but he didn’t make the kind of money that could pay for maintenance and property taxes on a big old house in the country, away from where he worked.  I know, I told him. Look, I didn’t say there’s nothing I can do. The ghost needs to have some matter settled. Probably she wants justice. Whenever her needs are met, she should be able to have peace and move on to the next life. So that’s what I’m going to do— solve her problem and get her out of here in time for you to close the deal. Okay?

How do you know that will work? How do you know anything about ghosts?

That was a long story. I hadn’t actually encountered any ghosts, but after having collided hard with the supernatural world a few months ago— collided so hard that I’d become a part of it— it seemed like I should learn what I could from accurate sources. Lucky for me, my girlfriend was involved in a kind of occult research group. She’d given me a list of recommended reading, and I’d made quite a bit of progress. Being up all night when most of the world sleeps gives you plenty of time for study.  I skipped the long story and told him, When you told me what you needed me to do, I read up on hauntings, just in case. Pretty much everything falls into one of three categories. Malign spirits, which aren’t necessarily human and which this isn’t. Those would be more subtle. Then there are hauntings that are merely psychic residue. This could be that, but if so, a few bundles of sage should clear it up. I’ll try it. But I think I really should find out what happened here. If she’s a real ghost, it has to be done to free her. If not, well, she was alive once, and her murder still matters.

Jimmy’s voice softened. Of course. Do what you need to. I’m just so in shock by this. I’m worried. My family could have an awful secret.

If I can give her peace without you having to know what happened, do you want me to leave you out of it?

What? No, that would be worse, wondering what it is I don’t know. Even if it is terrible. Otherwise I’ll never know what to think of anyone in my family.

Do you want to help investigate?

Uh, maybe. I’m no detective.

You don’t need to be. Just try to find out more about that time period. This big country house with expansive grounds seems like the kind of place a family with social ideas would throw parties. The dead girl might have been a guest, but she also might have been an entertainer. It was hard to say about someone who was seen only as a pale form, but her tight curls and round face could have belonged to a lady of the Harlem Renaissance. If I was right about her race, if she was famous enough to be a guest, someone would have noticed her missing. A singer or dancer, though, might disappear and have it be attributed to artistic temperament. As long as she hadn’t been paid yet, there might not be any questions. If she had disappeared after being paid for a performance she hadn’t yet given, well, a complaint might be filed but that didn’t mean the police would consider she might be a victim.

It’s also possible your relatives weren’t there when it happened. Did they travel much? Lend or rent the house to other people? I brought up the alternatives I could think of. You can find out those things better than I can, and that could help us focus in on a time frame. Meanwhile, I’ll look into any unsolved homicide or missing persons cases statewide. Figuring out who was killed will help us figure out who would want to do it.

You don’t even know who she was?

She wasn’t wearing a nametag, and it was all visuals, no soundtrack.

Great. I’ve got a silent horror movie playing in my house. I hope next time they don’t forget to hold up the dialogue cards. Jimmy had a sense of humor like mine. It had been easy to fall back into friendship, even after all the water under the bridge.

If they can’t, we’ll still get there. Look, based on the fashion, I’d place it between 1922 and 1928, and those are the very outside edges. Probably 1924-1926. Concentrate on those years. Were there any big parties that someone might disappear from without people noticing? There’s got to be a window of opportunity that will tell us a lot.

Sure. I’ll see what I can dig up. I’ll say I’m putting together a kind of history of the place.

Good idea. Neither of us were saying it, but if anyone had been involved in a cover up back then, we didn’t need them to know that the murder was now under investigation. I’m going to be here a few days, at least, I told him. Since you made sure the phone would be connected, I’ll get my contacts to send me old cases that may fit. I’ll probably be using it for other case-related calls, but I’m also going to be making some personal calls and dealing with other business. I’m going to keep a log so we can deduct the unrelated calls from my bill.

I don’t mind—

I cut him off. You’re a teacher and some of these personal calls are going to be transatlantic. No need to argue further. I told him I’d contact him in the morning the day after tomorrow, to give us time to see what we could come up with. Of course, he could reach me sooner if he got something I could follow up on.

The only calls I had to make right now were to reach my friend and continuing client, Eugene Marshall, and let him know where he could reach me direct until further notice. He had a few personal questions for me.

Have you got enough to eat?

I only expected to need to stay the one night, but I figured on having a butcher shop deliver.

To a house that’s been empty for months, you’re going to ask a country butcher shop to send someone around with a couple of gallons of blood?

Oh, come on, it doesn’t sound that bad. People make sausages and things with it.

In a house rumored to be haunted? There had to be a reason your friend needed you to verify that it wasn’t.

Oh. Eugene had a point. Uh, I guess I could find some wildlife. There’s a forest nearby...

Or, I could run up there in the morning to make a delivery.

That’s really nice, but it has to be so far out of your way.

Nonsense, Suzy would love to see a real haunted house.

Suzy?

She sells helicopters for businesses. I’m seriously considering it; much easier to store than a private airplane and you don’t need to have an airport to land it. This will give her an opportunity to show me how it handles. Do you have a large flat space?

There’s a tennis court. I’ll make sure the net isn’t up.

Perfect! Better stay up tomorrow. We’ll be there around 10 AM. Sometimes I think he’s adjusted better to me being a vampire than I have. But then, having a monster inside me wasn’t as easy as remembering someone’s schedule. Speaking of schedules, Clara would be starting her day, not because she was nocturnal, but because she was several hours ahead of me. Once I’d wrapped up with Eugene, I gave the love of my life a call.

Good morning, she said as she picked up. Her voice was somehow both crisp and warm. I don’t know if the British accent helped her pull it off, but it definitely didn’t hurt.

It is morning now that my ray of sunshine is here.

Raf! Darling, how are you?

My condition hasn’t changed. Any progress on that front? She had connections to occult researchers.

Not yet, but it’s early days. You’re the first vampire anyone knows of who has, well, cooperated with any attempt to make you human again. We’ve got a medical researcher going over the data Eugene sent, Dr. Gupta.

What does he think?

She thinks the same thing Eugene does— that you aren’t exactly dead. She did tell me to tell you to be very careful if you are injured. The blood and tissue samples are still showing signs of metabolic activity.

What?

Lost parts may still be active and since vampirism is contagious, you shouldn’t risk spreading contamination.

I sighed. One more way this is creepy. Got it.

Sir Lynn thinks it’s more magical than scientific, though, and he’s trying to find out where and how vampires got established. He has one of the best occult libraries in the world, and has access to others.

That’s good, I told her, but my heart wasn’t in it. I wanted to be human again, to be able to live and love like everyone else. My hand went to the phone, wishing she could feel my touch again. 

We’ll find an answer.

But the answer would probably be no. Say, I changed the subject, do you know much about ghosts?

I’ve seen a few. But you’ve been reading, right? You probably know as much theory as I do by now.

I’m dealing with a haunting.

A dangerous one?

Only to my client’s finances. The former residents must have ignored her for a couple of decades, but I fell asleep in the room she died in and got one hell of a one-act play.

Ah. Those ones are pretty common in stately homes over here. They’re often a point of pride.

Lovely. I can try talking the buyers into seeing it as a bonus with purchase, but I don’t think it will fly. Since it was a consortium who wanted to turn it into a resort, they had to think about how it would play to their market. I put it out of my mind for the moment, as she had quite the exciting life of her own. Tell me what you’re working on now. We caught up a bit more but she had to head to the office all too soon and I put down the receiver with a night ahead of me too late to call on anyone else.

I made myself some coffee. It doesn’t keep me awake or anything these days, but it warms me up inside. Ever since I died, which was just a few months ago, I found myself craving warmth. I generate some body heat, but unless I’m having a heavy workout, it’s well below the temperature of the living and I can feel it. I wondered briefly what it felt like to be a ghost. It was probably worse than being a vampire. By definition, you had a trauma you couldn’t get over or unfinished business you can’t resolve, or else haunting wouldn’t happen. Me, I could sometimes forget my undead state when I was watching a really good movie or was hard on a case. Something to take me out of myself. But I had to be careful. I had it under control, but little things could trigger my thirst.

Alone out in this big old house, I didn’t have to worry about it and could have my coffee before my daily pint. In the city, I drank the blood first so I’d find it easier to interact with people without seeing them as potential meals. I’d never bitten anyone, but the flirty usherette at the movie theater didn’t know better than to bring her neck close to me when offering refreshments. It didn’t help discourage her that I then always bought a soda off her, because any liquid in my mouth acted as a distraction. I took my drinks down to a large hall, I guess it might even be an official ballroom, set them on the piano, and began to play.

Sometimes, playing music helped me clear my head and get my thoughts in order. I settled on a little ragtime, starting with the Maple Leaf Rag and then turning it into my own variations. Then I saw another set of fingers on the keys. They were transparent and couldn’t actually depress the keys, but the ghost had reappeared as I played and tried to join in. I glanced over and saw she was sitting on the edge of the piano bench with me and she gave me a shy smile. I smiled back. It was nice to be sitting next to a pretty woman without feeling an itch around my teeth. Also, since it seemed she was able to perceive me now, I ought to be able to get more information from her.

I said to her, "I’m Rafael Jones, and I’m a detective. What’s your