Three Ghosts Read online

  The men still stared at him.

  “Seriously,” Fred continued. “It’s so distracting. I’ll be at a shopping mall and people turn to their friends asking what they said.”

  “Sorry. I’ll keep quiet,” Arthur said again.

  “See.” Fred appreciated the ghost’s attempt to prove his lie. “The phone’s in my pocket but it sounds like it’s coming from the back door of the house.”

  “But that time it said ‘Sorry. I’ll keep quiet’.” The man rested his chin on the handle of his shovel. “The first time it said ‘Oh sorry. I’ll keep quiet’.”

  “No,” claimed another. “It said ‘Sorry. Oh sorry. I’ll keep quiet’.”

  “I have different notifications for different people.” Fred closed his eyes but could feel eight pairs of eyes boring into him. “Just get back to work.” He strolled to the guy closest to the zinnias. He pointed at the flowers.

  “But the lady of the house said—”

  “The lady of the house?” Fred queried. “What is she? A brothel owner?”

  Arthur chuckled.

  “That’s another of my notifications. Keep working!” Fred turned back to the guy. “Just shove your spade as deep as you can at the edge of the flower bed. See what happens.”

  Crunch!

  A ghastly odour rose from the ground.

  “Don’t make a scene,” Fred said in a stage whisper. “I have to tell the lady of the house we’ll need to dig up her flowers.”

  “See. Even you mentioned ‘the lady of the house’. It’s respectful.”

  Fred rolled his eyes. “Okay, men! Put your shovels down. We’ve found something. I just need to go inside and talk to the lady of the house.”

  *

  Every single zinnia had been moved. All the men quickly replanted the flowers from the back of the garden to the side fence. Then most of the workers shovelled the piles of soil back in the ground while two guys dug in the spot where Arthur’s body was believed to be.

  Another crunch.

  More of that unpleasant smell.

  A bit of bone on a spade, among the dirt.

  The men held their noses.

  “Keep going.” Fred pressed his wrist over his nostrils.

  *

  “Argh!” Arthur lost control for a moment and made himself visible.

  The two kids screamed from the bedroom window.

  Arthur gazed at them. They screamed louder. Arthur made himself invisible. Their next ear-piercing scream was accompanied with endless tears. They ran to their mum.

  “Oh shit.” Fred stared at where Arthur was a moment ago.

  “Who was that?” one of the men asked.

  “A figment of your imagination. Now keep digging.”

  They uncovered Arthur’s corpse spilling out of two hessian bags. A bit of bone. A bit of flesh. A lot of hair. An unearthly smell. And weirdly long fingernails.

  Arthur wept, yet he couldn’t stop staring at his corpse.

  “Who’s crying?” asked a worker.

  Fred pretended to sniffle while covering his eyes. “Just me. This part always makes me sad.”

  Arthur wailed. Fred made his chest jolt several times and howled as loud as he could.

  “Sergeant Beazley, are you okay?”

  “Like I mentioned, this part always makes me sad.”

  “But I’ve dug bodies up for you before. I’ve never seen you cry.”

  “He’s right,” said another workman. “And you seem to be crying with two different voices at the same time.”

  “Who was that apparition we saw a moment ago?” The man peered into the spot where Arthur accidently made himself seen, as if by doing so he’d be seen again. “Now that secondary voice is crying but you’re not, Beazley.”

  “Oh. Boo-hoo-hoo.” But it was obvious Fred gave up the façade. “Okay, that ghost you saw was the guy in the ground.”

  “Say what?” The man trembled.

  “You mean to say…” Another worker pointed at the corpse, then back to where Arthur was seen, then back to the corpse.

  Eight shovels dropped to the ground. Eight men turned pale. One fainted. The others slowly meandered out of the backyard, picked up pace through the hallway of the house, then bolted to their cars. Engines roared. The quiet neighbourhood became a race car track as the guys sped away.

  “Well, that wasn’t smart.” Fred crossed his arms.

  “Are the kids still looking?” Arthur whimpered.

  “Keep your voice down. And no, you’ve scared them away. They’ll have nightmares tonight.”

  “So, that’s me.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “In two pieces.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “All black and rotten.”

  “Yep. Would make an interesting selfie.”

  Arthur laughed. “You think you know someone, and they shoot you in the back, cut you in two, and bury you. I know our love wasn’t perfect but geez Louise!”

  “I’ve seen worse.”

  “Like what. No. Forget I asked. I don’t need to know.”

  “Who are you talking to?” Mum was at the back door.

  “No one,” Fred called back.

  “You know it’s a sign of madness when you stand there and mutter to yourself.”

  “Yes, I know. It’s just this is the part that always gets me. The unearthing.” Fred sniffled a little for show. “So emotional.”

  “My kids are screaming something about a ghost. Eek. What’s that smell? No. Don’t answer. Yuck. There’s a body in my backyard. The value of this house will never be the same. Thank the gods I rent. But there’s a corpse in my garden. Oh dear. And my kids saw a ghost. We can’t sleep here tonight. Oh me. Oh my. I’m demanding lower rent. Eek!”

  She stepped back inside, her eyes wide with her body engaged in involuntary jerks.

  “Maybe you should talk to her,” Fred suggested. “Show yourself and let her know you’re friendly.”

  “Like Casper?”

  “Like Arthur.”

  Arthur peered back at the house. None of the inhabitants were watching. He let himself be seen.

  “Now remember Fred. No pictures of me and Alexander for the press. Look at my Instagram. Me on the beach with the waves rolling in behind me. Sunfun is the hashtag. Promise me, Fred. Promise me.”

  The sergeant tried to hug the ghost, but his arms went right through Arthur’s spiritual form. So, Arthur planted a wet sloppy kiss on Fred’s cheek. Fred felt his skin, took out a hanky, and wiped away the ectoplasm.

  “Sorry about that. But thank you, Sergeant Beazley.”

  “For what?”

  “I finally feel dead.”

  “And that’s a good thing?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Do you need a lift anywhere?”

  “No. I’ll just float back to Alex’s house.”

  “A bit morbid, isn’t it? Going back to your killer’s house?”

  “No. Not really. I have something to celebrate.”

  *

  “You should have seen Fred’s face when he realised he couldn’t use our testimonies,” Arthur said. “I mean, Tim and Carol are on record as being dead. I will be, too, soon. All Fred has is a dead body and two suspects. No written confession.” He shook his head. “I feel sorry for him.”

  “And Alexander told Sergeant Beazley where the body was,” Carol told Sabrina. “I was there when he confessed. But now they’re both keeping tight lipped. Nothing on record. Just Fred’s word against theirs.”

  All the spirits lay back on garden chairs waiting for the shooting star.

  “We should scare them into a confession.” Tim smirked like a super villain.

  “What surprises me, Sabrina,” Carol said, “is that you didn’t know your residents were killers. Well, one killer, one accomplice.”

  Sabrina ran her hand over her silk scarf. “The murder happened in another house. How would I know?”

  “You didn’t sense their guilt?” Tim asked.

&
nbsp; “Sociopaths don’t feel guilt,” she replied. “I thought they were two nice men in love. Well, kind of in love. They were when they moved in, but they’ve been growing apart.”

  “Do you want to turn on the news and see if there’s anything on the late bulletin?” Carol asked.

  Arthur beamed. There was peace in this garden. The lawn smelt fresh and wet. The stars lit the sky. Even glimpses of the cute neighbour through the bedroom window next door were enough to make Arthur put this all behind him. And the vodka was evaporating into his soul. A nice high was coming on.

  A flash lit the sky. The star shot by. Its tail trailed behind as bright as a sparkler on a child’s birthday cake.

  The friends shouted in joy. Sabrina did the same. A little delayed, but she did the same.

  “We forgot to keep an eye on the time because of all the excitement,” Carol claimed.

  “I knew it was soon,” Tim replied. “There was no way I would have let you watch TV instead.”

  “That’s the highlight of my day.” Arthur wiped a tear from his cheek. “The cherry on the sundae to this weird, confronting day.”

  “You’re still shaken, aren’t you?” Carol offered a faraway gaze.

  “It’s going to take time to process. Hey, I was murdered and didn’t even know it. By my boyfriend! It sounds like something Netflix would make a documentary about. As long as they don’t use pictures of me with Alex.”

  Tim placed his hand on Arthur’s shoulder. “We’ll be here, right beside you, when this really hits you.”

  The neighbour came out and stood at the top of the stairs leading to his garden. Arthur was happy to be distracted. He’d never tried to make love with the living and didn’t know if it was possible. Yet he seriously considered making himself seen so he could experiment.

  “And you do this often?” Sabrina asked, breaking the silence. “Go stargazing?”

  “It’s our ritual,” Arthur replied. “It’s our link back to the living world. A way to relive the pleasure of being alive. Albeit in other people’s homes, but it’s a nice ritual to have.”

  “Are you sure you don’t want to talk about Alex?” Carol asked. “I’d feel better if you cried. I saw the tear you wiped away. And Tim and I are right here. Right now. It’s the perfect time to cry.”

  Arthur was lost for an answer. He exhaled, then peeked inside at the lamp he remembered.

  “I’m on a different path now. Alexander is part of my history. A character from another dimension which I don’t live in anymore.” Tim and Carol smiled at him. “You are my present. My ‘sneak into houses to stargaze’ present. Hell, I have a pretty good afterlife, and…” He paused. “And the fact I have two best friends is worth celebrating. You two are the best relationship I’ve ever had. You are the loves of my life. Or the loves of my afterlife. No sex. No romance. Just my two loves.” He picked up the vodka bottle and held it to his nose. “And that, my dear friends, is worth a toast.”

  He felt another tear welling, so he gazed at Tim and Carol, thankful they were here.

  Acknowledgements

  Thank you, Liz, for continuing to make sense of my words.

  And thank you, Rae, for giving me a place to be creative.

  About Kevin Klehr

  Kevin lives with his husband, Warren, in their humble apartment (affectionately named Sabrina), in Australia’s own “Emerald City,” Sydney.

  His tall tales explore unrequited love in the theatre district of the Afterlife, romance between a dreamer and a realist, and a dystopian city addicted to social media.

  His first novel, Drama Queens with Love Scenes, spawned a secondary character named Guy. Many readers argue that Guy, the insecure gay angel, is the star of the Actors and Angels book series. His popularity surprised the author.

  The third in this series, Drama Queens and Devilish Schemes, scored a Rainbow Award (judged by fans of queer fiction) for Best Gay Alternative Universe/Reality novel.

  More recently, his book, The Midnight Man, scored Runner Up in Best Gay Fantasy at the Rainbow Awards, while Winter Masquerade received an Honourable Mention. The Midnight Man also scored first place in an LGBT category at the Paranormal Romance Guild’s Reviewers Choice Awards, as well as winning in the Fantasy category of the 2021 Gay Scribe Awards.

  So, with Guy, his fictional guardian angel guiding him, Kevin hopes to bring more whimsical tales of love, life and friendship to his readers.

  Facebook

  www.facebook.com/DramaQueensWithLoveScenes

  Twitter

  @kevinklehr

  Instagram

  www.instagram.com/klehrkevin

  YouTube

  www.youtube.com/user/KevinKlehr

  Website

  www.kevinklehr.com

  Other NineStar books by this author

  Actors and Angels series

  Drama Queens with Love Scenes

  Drama Queens and Adult Themes

  Drama Queens and Devilish Schemes

  Nate and Cameron series

  Nate and the New Yorker

  Nate’s Last Tango

  The Nate and Cameron Collection

  Tayler series

  Social Media Central

  Virtual Insanity

  Standalone Stories

  Midnight Angel

  From Top to Bottom

  Winter Masquerade

  The Midnight Man

  Connect with NineStar Press

  Website: NineStarPress.com

  Facebook: NineStarPress

  Facebook Reader Group: NineStarNiche

  Twitter: @ninestarpress

  Instagram: NineStarPress

 

 

  Kevin Klehr, Three Ghosts

 

 

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