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Pascal and Braque must sort the ghosts from the spirits in this curious case! INSPECTOR PASCAL MYSTERIES 1000 #29 Spirits by T.K. Naliaka at TIPTOPduTOP  INSPECTOR PASCAL MYSTERIES 1000
#29 Spirits by T.K. Naliaka ©2017 Patriciana finally blurted angrily, “Inspector Pascal! How can you just stand there and light a smoke like you’re waiting for the next train! This is important!” Brown-haired and lean in a neat dark grey suit with a pale blue tie, Pascal crushed the glowing fag then calmly considered her and her rotund housemate Ruby, in matching orange printed caftans, glaring at him. The pause had almost given Pascal enough time to finish deducing who was the malcontent at the police department who’d inked Pascal’s name so Pascal would be dispatched to this case. Pascal replied conciliatorily. “Please accept apologies for the lack of response despite your many calls to the police department. There really isn’t a cadre of homicide inspectors who have been trained in the… fantôme… specialty.” The two older women looked for confirmation from the big, broad-shouldered uniformed Sergeant Braque accompanying Pascal. Braque’s job was to support Pascal, not roll his eyes, so he simply scowled. Patriciana seemed somewhat placated. “Well, as I explained on the phone, the ghosts really crossed the line this time.” Pascal raised an eyebrow, “… this time? There are more than one…? They’ve done things?” “We’re not sure there’s more than one. But killing Hannian is really too much.” Surprised, Braque and Pascal glanced at each other, “Who’s Hannian?” Ruby spoke up. “He’s our gardener! I mean… he was.” Ruby crossed the salon and out through an open set of glass doors to a patio garden, a verdant, eclectic space of colorful glazed pots with lush flowering vines and big-leafed green philodendrons decorated with quirky ceramic animals, bird baths and wind chimes. Pascal and Braque could see themselves, small figures reflected from six sleek mirrored garden gazing balls on pedestals nestled among the plants. “Over there!” Perplexed, they followed her out. Behind a clay-pot-stacked potting table, slumped backwards over a weathered wooden bench with his head lolled back and his mouth slacked open to the sky was a middle-aged, stocky, grey-haired man in a workman’s overall. Ruby posed with her arm helpfully stretched out to guide them to the sprawled man. Pascal cautiously walked over and touched his hand against the man’s cheek, then Pascal pressed his fingers to the man’s neck to feel for a pulse. Sgt. Braque reached for his radio. “I’ll call it in.” “Un instant, Sergeant… can you first take some photos?” “Yes sir.” Braque pulled out a small camera from his pocket. Pascal then gestured to him. “Help me put him onto his side.” Braque hesitated, “Sir?” Pascal nodded, “Ça va.” Braque helped Pascal re-position Hannian’s body. Pascal stuck his hand in his pocket, then after a moment feeling for it, pulled out a small mirror, crouched and held it to Hannian’s nose and mouth. “What are you doing?” He glanced at Patriciana. “I’m verifying to see if he’s breathing.” Patriciana was dubious. “He doesn’t look like he is.” “Sometimes it’s very subtle.” Finally Ruby asked, “Well… anything?” Pascal slipped the mirror back into his pocket. “Perhaps it’s too subtle.” He pointed to a broken shard of pottery by Hannian’s feet. “This isn’t from these pots.” Patriciana came to him, then she pointed. “It’s a tile… from the roof.” Pascal peered up. He pulled out his notepad and pen, “All right… from the beginning. Tell me why you called the police.” Ruby spoke up excitedly. “For a month, we’ve been hearing odd bumping noises in the night.” “From where?” “The ceiling!” Pascal glanced at Patriciana. “Is there more?” “Yes! Last week when we were meditating on the rug in the salon, we heard strange, very inhuman sounds.” Pascal looked over at Ruby, “Inhuman?” Patriciana nodded, “You know… how the wind sometimes moans…” Ruby interjected excitedly, “But there was no wind!” Braque spoke up. “What’s that window for?” Patriciana walked over to look. “Oh! That’s just for the roof ventilation.” Pascal considered it. “That’s large enough for a person to enter. Can we use that ladder?” Patriciana nodded, “Of course!” Sgt. Braque climbed up and peered inside. “Sir, it looks like illegal spirits…” Ruby gasped, “Spirits!” Braque reached in, “Alcohol… a foam mattress, a flashlight and binoculars.” Ruby’s face fell, “Oh.” Pascal looked up, then down at Hannian’s body draped like a limp noodle across the bench. “Sergeant Braque! Could he have fallen from there to here?” “That’s what it looks like, sir.” Ruby exclaimed. “What would the gardener be doing on the roof?” Pascal tapped his pad against his palm. “What was the gardener doing in the ventilation space?” Braque descended the ladder and handed Pascal a bottle of homemade gin, “Drinking his brains out, sir.” Braque gave him the binoculars. “What did he need these for? Trees block the view.” Ruby nodded, “Of course! We picked this property because it’s set-back and well-screened from the road. We always meditate in the nude, you see.” Braque chuckled, watching Pascal at a complete loss for words in two languages. Ruby exclaimed. “Inspector! Why that look? You sound French! Aren’t you used to it? Everyone we know in France does this, too!” Pascal’s jaw sagged. Suddenly, Braque burst out laughing. Pascal almost started. “What is it, Sergeant?’ Braque strode inside the salon. “Can you see me?” “No. You’re out of the line of sight.” “Sir, try again! How can you see me, if I’m inside here?” After a long puzzled moment, Pascal finally raised the binoculars and focused on one of the mirrored gazing balls. He watched the reflected figure wave at him. “I see you now!” Patriciana couldn’t hide her disappointment. “No ghosts?” “No… just Hannian enjoying drinking and spying on your… meditations." Pascal gave Patriciana the binoculars. "What would you like us to do? We can take him away or we can leave him here.” Ruby sputtered, “Leave him? He’s dead!” “No,” Pascal shook his head. “He’s not.” “But… look at him!” Pascal replied. “He’s intoxicated… euh… how you say…” Braque offered, “Dead drunk. He’ll wake up tomorrow and won’t remember anything.” Patriciana grumbled. “Take him! He’s fired.” By T.K. Naliaka for TIPTOPduTOP ©2017 |