Kana Cold- Case of the Shinigami Page 2

  “No, I’ve got the cash. Don’t worry about that.”

  Kana matched his bet with her own set of twenty-dollar bills. One of the larger bikers in the crowd stood near both piles. The tattoo on his arm read Big Mike, a fitting name given he was twice the width and six inches taller than any other man in the bar. If there was a bet on a game, he was the one who held the money for safekeeping.

  Nick offered the first shot to Kana, and she made a solid break, sending most of the striped balls into the corner pockets. Nick yawned and patted the palm of his hand against his mouth. After missing her third shot, it was Nick’s turn. He turned to the crowd, his arms extended, and his head tilted back, shouting as loud as he could that he was “the man” over this small victory.

  That ended when he realized the eight-ball stopped short of the corner pocket. “That’s an old, cheap trick.” He grumbled, chalking the end of his cue stick. “Don’t worry, I’ve got this.”

  As Kana leaned against the nearby wall next to Bob, the two whispered behind their palms while Nick lined up his shot.

  Kana rolled her eyes. “He’s going to bank it, Bob.”

  The older biker stroked his grey beard. “That he is. We’ve got your back if this goes sour.”

  Kana waved him off. “I doubt I’ll need it.”

  Nick sweated while leaning forward to line up the cue ball. The space between where he needed to hit the five ball and avoid the eight was so narrow, Nick considered not taking it, but he did. The cue ball missed its mark, nicking the eight ball. He grunted as the black ball plopped into the corner pocket.

  “Scratch!” a voice called out from the onlookers.

  “Thanks for the game.” Kana held out her hand as Big Mike handed her the stack of cash. “We can go again if you want.”

  “No, you cheated!” Nick’s gnashed his teeth. “You cheated, and you know it. Lousy chink!”

  Bob stood up and stepped to Nitro Nick, his palm out as if to push the young biker away. “Whoa, whoa, whoa, watch your mouth boy. You lost the game. Get out of here.”

  “Shut up, old man. No one was talking to you.” He pointed at Bob then back to Kana. “Look, you better give me my money back right now.”

  Kana scoffed and put her pool stick away. Nick grabbed her shoulder, but Big Mike stepped between them. A few of the other bikers in the bar gathered around the scene as Nick’s gang formed a circle around their brother.

  “No need to get rowdy.” Nick put his hands up. “We understand what kind of bar this is. We can see what kind of brothers you all are, taking up for this slope. Hey, how about a toast for the winner?”

  Nick took his stolen bottle of rum and filled his mouth with the liquor. When he puffed out his cheeks and reared back, Kana slapped the liquor out of his mouth before he could spit on her. The rum doused the table and Nick’s biker brothers. He stumbled backward with one hand on his stinging cheek while the other gripped the rum bottle.

  Mark pointed to Kana. “Watch out!”

  Nick broke the bottle against the side of the pool table and lunged at her, aiming the sharp edges at her throat. Kana lifted her pool stick case and smashed it against Nick’s head in one motion. She grabbed his bottle-wielding arm and twisted it behind his back, forcing him onto the table, his face pushed into the felt.

  Kana cranked his arm. “You were loud, you were dumb, and you lost. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll get lost.”

  “Okay, okay, okay!” Nick cried, his spittle splashing across the table. “I didn’t mean to insult you. Sorry.”

  When she released him, Nick staggered and wiped a stream of blood from his nose. He straightened his leather vest, glared at Kana one last time, and pushed his way to the exit with his friends trailing behind him.

  Kana opened her pool stick box and frowned at the splintered remains inside. Bob offered her another shot of rum, but she declined and turned her attention to Mark. “You. Outside with me. You’ve got five minutes for whatever it is you came here to tell me.”

  ***

  Mark and Kana stepped out into the parking lot after Big Mike made sure it was clear of Nitro Nick’s gang. Kana inspected her broken pool cue and frowned. “I think we’re okay, Mike. You can go back inside, okay?” After the door to the bar shut behind Big Mike, Kana pointed the cue at Mark. “Let me start by saying the only reason I’m even listening to you during non-business hours is because you warned me about that jerk and the broken bottle. I owe you for that, at least.”

  Mark crossed his arms. “Glad I could save your life.”

  “I wouldn’t go that far.” She followed his gaze to her car. “Yeah, that’s mine.”

  Mark scanned the vehicle. “Dodge Challenger. Classic paint job. Refurbished, of course. New chrome. Is it a ’71?”

  “1970.”

  Mark grinned. “Very nice. I used to be big into cars before marriage and everything.”

  Kana lowered the pool cue. “Suburban life. Traded in your Dodge for John Deere, didn’t you? It must be terrible.”

  Mark shook his head. “Not really. I love my family more than I love a car.”

  She nodded. “So, Mr. McNeil, what is so urgent? You didn't come here to talk about cars I’m sure.”

  “Where to start? Well, my wife and I always wanted kids. It wasn’t easy for us, but we did it. Our daughter’s name is Melody, the sweetest little girl you’ll ever see. Unfortunately, she’ll be our only child.” Mark lowered his voice. “My wife, Alice, can’t carry any more children. It runs in her family. We have Melody, and that’s more than enough. The problem is she’s been sick for almost a year now.” He cleared his throat. “It started out with something small. Alice noticed she had bruises on her arms and legs at breakfast every so often. I didn’t think much of it. Melody may be a princess, but she likes to climb trees and play in the dirt too. I figured she fell while playing, but the bruises became more frequent. Our first thought was bed bugs.”

  Kana leaned against her car. “But you checked, and it wasn't. This is the part when the doctors come in and tell you they know nothing.”

  “You’ve heard these stories a million times I’m sure.”

  “No, go ahead with your story. I’m listening. It’s… Well, I know where this is going. In my experience, hauntings don’t result in physical bruises.”

  Mark raised his head and their eyes met. “This one does.”

  Kana stared at him with a raised eyebrow and her palms open. “So, the story is that your daughter has mysterious bruises on her body and you don't know how they got there?”

  Mark knew what she was getting at. The police asked him the same question the night he took his daughter to the hospital. “I know how that sounds. I can tell you I’m not abusing my daughter. Neither is my wife. It’s not bed bugs, it’s not spiders. There’s something… weird going on.”

  Kana stuffed her hands into the pockets of her jacket. “Okay, I don’t think you’re abusing your daughter. I’m telling you, as the professional here, ghosts don’t leave bruises. I’ve seen scratches but never bruises. A bruise means blunt trauma to the skin. What did the psychologists say?”

  Mark shrugged. “They had no answers. We took her to Johns Hopkins, Mayo, everywhere and anywhere we could afford. None of them had a clue what was wrong with her. Even when she spit up blood, they chalked it up to an overactive imagination.” Mark ran his hand over the top of his head and down his face. “A whole goddamn year and zero answers.”

  “Is there any other physical evidence?”

  “Oh yeah. She screams in the middle of the night, so loud and long she loses her voice for three days. Her throat is always sore from the vomiting and the screaming. My wife and I haven’t slept more than a few hours a day over the last week because we’re afraid to. And I know what you’re thinking. There’s a medical explanation for this, right? Well, this last incident convinced me it wasn't a medical issue.” Mark put his fist against his chin. “We had a few good weeks without an incident but then the scream
ing started again. I went in to her bedroom and there was Melody standing on her bed, screaming with her eyes closed. I wanted to do something, but I was afraid to wake her up. It wasn’t until I got closer to the bed that I saw—” Mark clenched his teeth together as his eyes welled with tears. He turned away from Kana, put his hands on his hips, and walked in a circle. “Her body was as stiff as a board. She kept screaming and screaming…” his words trailed as he replayed the vision in his head. “But her feet… her feet weren’t touching the bed. She was hovering above the sheets. It looked like something held her up by her hair. It was only for a few seconds, but I know what I saw. And then, it let go, and she fell. I tried to catch her…” The tears flowed freely as Mark struggled to speak. “I tried to catch her, but I wasn’t fast enough. She fell and broke her arm. I should have been faster. I should have just… I tried to catch her.”

  Kana pursed her lips. “How old is your daughter?”

  Mark wiped the tears away. “She just had her fourth birthday three days ago. Most of the other parents had convenient excuses for why their children couldn’t come, but we made it a happy birthday with the few that showed up. They all signed her cast, and that made her feel better, but there shouldn’t have been a cast to sign. I should have caught her. There’s no hurt like that of being a father who can’t protect his child, the only child I’ll ever have. I don’t know if you can relate to that.” Mark swiped at the last few tears. “It makes you want to do anything to help them.”

  Kana pushed herself off the side of her car and extended her hand to Mark. “Mr. McNeil, you seem like a decent man. A decent father. Those are rare these days.” He shook her hand. “We’ll start tomorrow. The sooner I know what’s going on the sooner I can help your daughter.”

  Pony Girl

  Overnight, Kana prepared for the McNeil job. The first thing was to contact her business partner, AJ, who researched the history of the house, the neighborhood, and the family. It was a necessary precaution. Most of their prior clients ranged from outright frauds to pranksters. Misidentification made up the bulk of the rest. One prior client, an elderly woman, was convinced that her ex-husband haunted the house, only to discover the source of the ghostly noise was a hole in the attic. College students hired them for fraternity gags. Others seeking attention sent them edited videos or doctored photographs. Only on rare occasions did an investigation turn up something truly supernatural and even those were far from groundbreaking.

  Early the next morning they traveled to the McNeils. AJ watched the rows of homes pass by as Kana drove through the suburban neighborhood. “I’ve never been out here. Looks like Leave It To Beaver territory. At least their background check didn’t show anything suspicious.”

  “That’s good to hear, but don’t get your hopes up, AJ. We've seen crap cases before. You also did a financial check on them, right? I want to make sure we get paid.”

  They were six blocks from the house. Kana turned the steering wheel to the right, taking a short cut. Her Dodge Challenger roared through the quiet streets, drawing lingering stares from the neighborhood residents heading to work or seeing their children off to school.

  “There is something that concerns me,” AJ said, tapping on his computer tablet. “They’ve spent a small fortune on medical expenses. They’re almost flat broke.”

  With a shrug, Kana rolled down the window and waved in the morning air. AJ stared at her for a few beats. “Smell that air, AJ. That’s the air of money. These people live in the suburbs. It’s all freshly mowed grass, pensions, and home owner association meetings out here. They have money, or at least access to it.”

  AJ checked his tablet again, scrolling through a few more documents with his index finger. “I don’t think they’re as well-off as you imagine them to be.” He turned off the tablet and put it away. “We might not get paid.”

  “They have a house. They have a mortgage. They can get money.”

  AJ raised his hand in objection. “Have you ever owned a house, Kana?”

  “No, and I don’t plan on owning one out here, that’s for damn sure. I know how people like this operate. They have money. They might not have cash, but they can get it to pay us.”

  AJ turned his attention back out the window, his curly dirty-blonde hair flopping around his head in the breeze. The houses passed by, each one nearly identical to the one before it. Beige colors, wooden fences, backyard decks with barbecue grills nestled in a corner underneath brightly colored umbrellas, all images AJ was familiar with from his own family life. “I’m just saying to not expect much.”

  Kana huffed as she slowed the car looking for a place to park. “Well, let’s discuss that later. We’re almost there.”

  ***

  The McNeil home did not stand out from the others in the neighborhood. The front lawn mirrored the others on the street, maintained at a respectable height with trimmed edges and plastic borders to separate it from a small garden of daisies and daffodils.

  Mark McNeil greeted them at the front door, waiting for them in the doorway wearing grey sweatpants and a sweatshirt. “Thanks for coming. Can I get you coffee or water or anything?”

  “We’re fine, thanks,” Kana said, stepping over the threshold into the house.

  The veneer of domestic life ended here. The living room was in stark contrast to the well-manicured exterior. Chaos won over order here. The lamp bulbs were exposed, bedsheets were stretched across the floor in wrinkled layers, and the coffee table was littered with books and crumpled candy wrappers.

  “It’s a bit of a mess,” Mark said as he scurried to tidy up. “We don't sleep much, especially the last few days. She’s getting worse. We’ve been sleeping together down here the last few nights.”

  Kana stopped surveying the room and faced Mark. “What’s wrong with the bedrooms?”

  “We’ve been hearing footsteps at night. Heavy footsteps. We all feel safer down here.” Mark rubbed the back of his neck. “Again, I’m sorry for the mess.”

  “No apologies needed. I’m AJ by the way.” He shook Mark’s hand.

  “You get to work, AJ,” Kana said. “I'll look around the house if you don’t mind, Mark?”

  “Sure. Anything you need, Kana. My wife and daughter are playing in the backyard so take your time.”

  With his permission given, Kana examined the kitchen before heading into the basement. Mark offered AJ the only seat in the room that wasn’t covered with debris. AJ pulled out a pen and paper from his backpack and wrote a few words down.

  “Is there anything I need to do?” Mark asked, standing in the center of the living room.

  AJ smiled, pushing aside the curls of hair that covered his face. “Well, there’s this business of an interview I need to conduct with you. It won’t take long. Kana likes to have accurate documentation of our cases.”

  “That’s fine. What do you need to know?”

  AJ tapped the top of the notepad with his pen. “Basic stuff. You and your wife have been together for...”

  “Six years as of last November. Alice thought a wedding near Thanksgiving was a good idea. Everyone would already be in town for the holidays.”

  “Was it?”

  “Not really.” Mark shrugged, nodding to the couple’s wedding photos hanging on the wall.

  AJ looked at the photos and opened his mouth in realization. “Oh. Not a lot of people showed, huh? I guess turkey is more appealing than wedding vows. I wouldn’t know, I don’t eat meat, and I’ve never been married…” AJ’s rambling trailed off as he noticed Mark yawning. “When did you buy the house?”

  “About three years ago.”

  “Is there anything suspicious about the house? Did the realtor tell you anything about its history off the record?”

  Mark scratched at his beard stubble. “You mean like dead bodies in the attic or some ancient Native American burial ground?”

  AJ tilted the end of his pen to Mark. “That would qualify as suspicious.”

  “No. Nothing like tha
t. We bought the house from one of Alice’s relatives. The only problem was the junk he left in the attic.”

  “What did he leave behind?”

  Mark started to pace, rubbing his hands together as he recalled the list. “Knickknacks. Boxes of old clothes, paintings, broken furniture. All of it was in the attic. He hired a moving company to take the stuff, they must have missed it.”

  AJ underlined the last few words he wrote. Mark stopped pacing and peaked into the kitchen to see Kana examining the kitchen cabinets. “So, how long have the two of you been together?” he asked.

  AJ scoffed, still writing away on his notepad. “Together? You mean, me and Kana? Like, a couple? No, no, that’s not what we are. I mean, she’s great and all but… What I’m trying to say is that it’s never been a…”

  Mark patted AJ on the shoulder. “Hey, I meant nothing by it. It’s none of my business, anyway. You guys are business only, right?”

  AJ paused before answering, hiding his face beneath his curly hair. “Right. Business.”

  “Forget I said anything.” Mark paced again, his focus on the backdoor of the house. “Maybe we can hold off on the rest of the interview for now. I think you should meet my family.

  “Sounds good,” AJ answered, following Mark to the backdoor.

  Mark called to his wife and daughter. “Honey, our guests are here. Can you and Melody come inside for a minute?” Alice brought Melody in through the back door, holding her daughter’s hand. “Melody, did you and mommy have fun?”

  The girl fixated on the stranger standing in their living room. “Yes.”

  Mark pointed at AJ. “I want you to meet our new friend, okay? His name is AJ. Can you say hi to him?”

  AJ smiled and raised his hand to wave at the little girl who swayed back and forth behind her mother’s leg. “I want to go watch Pony Girl.”

  “That’s fine” Alice said, letting go of her daughter’s hand. “But can you say hi to our new friend first? He’ll be staying with us for a few days.”