A shadow fell over his van. It was a perfectly sunny day, without a cloud in the sky. Rolling down his window, he stuck his head out. A mob of vultures hung directly overhead. Try to run, they dared him, and see what happens. He wiped away his tears, knowing he was doomed to serve a master far darker than any he’d known before.
45
Every day began with the promise of a new beginning. Peter had read that in a book while growing up. The message had stayed, and had helped him get through the dark times.
Wednesday morning was a perfect example. Sunlight flooded through his bedroom window and delicious breakfast smells floated up from the kitchen. It was enough to make him forget what a nightmare the previous few days had been, if just for a little while.
He tossed on a bathrobe and bounded downstairs. The brownstone had been sold to him with a warning. The previous tenant had fallen down the stairs, and broken his ankle. The staircase was treacherous, and not using the handrail was a serious mistake.
Soon after moving in, Peter had learned that the staircase wasn’t treacherous at all. The problem was a cantankerous ghost named Zachary Nathaniel Harrison who’d inhabited the brownstone for over a century, and occupied the spacious guest bedroom on the second floor. Zack, as he liked to be called, was a light sleeper, and punished those who woke him up by tripping them during their stair runs.
Ghosts could be reasoned with. Peter had conducted a séance in the bedroom, and summoned Zack to the table. The old ghost had obliged him, and they’d sat and talked and eventually worked out a deal. When the sun was up, Peter was free to run the stairs as much as he wished. When it was down, there would be no running. They had shaken hands on it, which had felt strange, since there had been nothing there to physically shake.
The kitchen greeted him with a spread of food fit for a king and Liza at the counter squeezing fresh oranges. It still amazed him that she’d not packed her bags and split after yesterday’s revelations. The expression “love was blind” had taken on a whole new meaning.
“If it isn’t Sleeping Beauty,” she said.
“What’s the special occasion?” he asked.
“I just thought you needed a fresh start after yesterday.”
“Why? What happened yesterday?”
She wiped her hands on a paper towel and wrapped her arms around Peter’s thin waist. “We have a lot of talking to do, you know.”
“I’m ready when you are.”
“Good. How about later this afternoon?”
He kissed the tip of her nose. “I’m game.”
They sat down at the kitchen table and dug in. Liza had hit the nail on the head. A fresh start was exactly what the doctor ordered. He couldn’t change the horrific things he’d done as a child, but he could make sure they never happened again. He was an adult now, and his own boss. He would stop the demon inside of him from controlling his actions.
Finished, they stood at the sink with Liza washing the dishes and Peter drying and putting them away. “Do you remember that antique wristwatch that fell out of the sky while we were standing in the courtyard the other night?” she asked.
Peter remembered the watch well. Made by Cartier, it had belonged to the shadow person he’d confronted in the lobby of Grand Central Station. He’d never understood its significance, and wondered if Liza had plumbed it secret.
“I may have found its owner,” Liza went on. “I noticed it wasn’t working properly, so I found a store online that repairs antique watches, and sent them an e-mail along with a photo I shot on my iPhone. The manager e-mailed me right back. Come to find out, he thinks he’s repaired the watch before. His shop is called Time After Time, and is in the West Village. He asked me to come by this morning, and show the watch to him so he could confirm it.”
“Did he say who the owner was?”
“No. The manager’s name is Walter, and he was very mysterious about the whole thing. Maybe he can tell us who the owner is, and that will lead to figuring out what the shadow people want. It’s a stretch, but who knows.”
Peter hung the dish towel on the hook next to the fridge. The other world was a difficult place to understand, the motives of the spirits never fully clear. Liza was reacting the same way he usually did, which was to plunge ahead, and hope for the best.
“I’m game,” he said. “Let’s go talk to Walter.”
“I’ll go change,” Liza said.
Peter took out his cell phone and called Herbie. “Be at the brownstone in half an hour,” he told him. “We’re going on a fishing expedition.”
The West Village was old New York, its streets twisting and narrow. Time After Time sat in a dusty storefront filled with grandfather clocks and rare timepieces in glass display cabinets.
Peter told Herbie to circle the block, and entered the shop with Liza.
The cramped interior was a mess. Any more than a handful of customers, and the place would have felt crowded. An eccentric-looking manager with a halo of curly white hair stood behind the counter, and nodded courteously as they entered.
“You must be Walter,” Liza said. “I’m Liza. We spoke yesterday on the phone.”
Walter said nothing. He probably got a hundred phone calls a day. Or he didn’t get any phone calls, and was playing stupid. From her purse, Liza removed the antique woman’s watch that had fallen from the sky, and placed it on a felt mat on the counter. Walter stuck a loupe in his eye and studied the exquisite timepiece. “This is an original Cartier, special limited edition, very rare to find these days. May I ask where you came upon this?”
“Is that important?” Liza asked.
“I just would like to know, that’s all.”
“My boyfriend and I found it.”
Walter studied Peter briefly, then looked back at Liza. “May I ask where?”
“I’m sorry, but that’s none of your business.”
They’d been in the store less than a minute, and Walter was already giving them the third degree. Something wasn’t right with this picture, and Peter scanned the store’s interior. Not one, but three surveillance cameras were trained upon them, two from the ceiling, the third bolted to the wall behind the counter. The wall camera was a recent addition as evidenced by the sales sticker glued to the side. And there was a large rottweiler lying at Walter’s feet behind the counter. The dog was panting and its tail wasn’t wagging. Dogs fed off their owner’s emotions, and Walter was subliminally telling the dog to be on alert.
Peter thought he knew what was going on. The watch was hot, and on a list of stolen items that the police sent to store owners in the city. Walter had recognized it from Liza’s photo, and had decided to set a trap. Better start telling the truth, he thought.
“Look, we know that this watch belongs to someone else,” Peter interrupted. “How we came upon it doesn’t matter. What’s important is that we return it to its rightful owner. Right, dear?”
The corners of Liza’s mouth turned up in a smile. He’d never called her dear before, and she seemed to like it.
“We just want to do the right thing,” Liza continued. “Yesterday when we spoke, you indicated you knew who the owner might be. If you’ll tell us, we’ll return it to her right away. Or you can do it. Whatever you think is best.”
Walter looked perplexed and let out a deep breath. “Oh, my,” he said.
“Is something wrong?” Peter asked.
“You’re not thieves. I can tell by listening to you. Thieves come into my store often, and try to sell me hot timepieces. You’re not like them.”