Dead Cell Page 4
"Are you the Detective Sergeant Brianna Cogan who spoke with Tyrone Manson last night?" he asked.
"Yes, I am," she responded and then the penny dropped. "You are 'Uncle Craig', are you?"
He nodded and Cogan apologised. "I was expecting you to be -"
"Samoan?" he asked, grinning. "Well," he said, elongating the word, "yes, I believe most would, but, you see, I adopted both Debbie and Tyrone some years back. I used to be friends of their parents who worked with me. They have since passed, and the kids always knew me as Uncle Craig. I don't like them calling me Mum. Tell me what you know." He said the last sentence with a more serious tone.
Cogan shrugged. "There's not much I can tell you at this point as we haven't received all the reports yet. I assume you have seen Tyrone already this morning. His story doesn't quite match the evidence we have, and I believe that's the result of the concussion or the shock."
"Would that be the part about the man in the car with them?" Ramsey said, his voice sounding almost like that of a commanding officer as he leaned forward. His hand touched one of the report folders on Brianna's desk. As he did, his expression changed, and he appeared as though lost in another world. It only lasted for an instant before he refocused his attention upon her.
Brianna was about to tell him to relax and sit back when he did just that and looked at her. She took a breath. "Yes, there is the matter of a man allegedly sitting in the back seat. What Tyrone says does not add up for a few reasons. No other witnesses saw a man leaving the scene after the crash. And how he reported the man in the back seat hit Debbie's head against the side window does not match. The amount of force needed to do that is not possible to muster while hindered by the driver's seat. It's impossible."
Ramsey looked like he was blinking tears back as he listened to her words and Cogan felt sorry to have to tell him this. Perhaps with better preparation and advance notice of his arrival, she could have worded it better. He lifted his hand, wiped his stubbled chin, and replied, "Impossible? Not for an ordinary man, that's right, and not everyone can see a man leaving an accident or a murder scene."
Cogan wheeled her chair around to the side of the desk so she could be closer to Ramsey before answering him. "I checked the security camera footage, Mr Ramsey. We watched it at least three times because we caught it all on camera, thanks to the city having a network of them to keep the streets safe. No one left the car's back seat."
"No one you saw," Ramsey made it plain he didn't believe her, and he worded it so she could not argue his point either.
Cogan shook her head in sympathy. "No. We saw people running to help, but no one left the car's back seat. I would have seen it myself."
Ramsey paused, thinking, and then looked back at her. "How could you see when the video footage had a slight distortion just before the first people arrived to help?"
"What are you talking about?" Cogan asked. "There was no such thing."
Ramsey studied her when she responded. "You didn't think of that, did you?"
Cogan took a deep breath, realising the mixed tension she felt, and released it. "It was just a second or two of distortion at the most, not enough to show a door opening and closing, or to hide one either. What makes you think there was distortion or someone else in the car?"
"You just told me then." Ramsey looked at her and he seemed to have an idea. "Can I hold your watch please?"
"What?"
"Your watch," he said. "You want answers."
He had reached across the short space. She reacted, pulling her wrist back before he could do more than touch the watch. Angered, she kept her voice low in response. "Mr Ramsey, it is time you left."
Ramsey stayed seated, calm as a quiet lake, and looked her dead in the eyes. "I'm sorry about that. I needed to touch something that belonged to you to show you how I know things."
"How you know what?"
He looked straight at her, into her eyes, and she noticed the strong brown colour of his eyes. They were like a puppy dog's, but deep as the earth and its secrets. He looked through her as though she were glass, and he spoke with a monotone voice as though reciting from memory. "Your middle name is Sophia, named after your mother. She's still alive but your father passed away when you were away with the Army. You were twenty two. They are not your real parents, are they?"
Cogan felt shaken as she had never told anyone about her adoption as a little girl. To have a stranger tell her this much was disconcerting and eerie. She tried to control her voice, but it still quivered. "How did you know that?"
Ramsey softened for a moment. "I am a psychic and I know all sorts of things by touching your possessions. It's called psychometry. I wondered at first if Tyrone was telling me a wild story too when I saw him last night. But Tyrone never lies and, when I touched his hand, I saw everything that happened in that car. There was someone else in the car with them." His confident and assertive tone had returned by this time.
Cogan moved her chair back behind the desk, letting it be a shield between herself and Ramsey. "I don't know what to say. What else do you believe you know, Craig?"
She didn't believe him. Her sceptical side was already trying to rationalise things, trying to prove him a fake. Could he have Googled her and run a check on her through public records? No, he never had the time for that, and she didn't even have Facebook. Cogan nodded to show Ramsey had her attention, and he continued speaking.
"There was another man, someone they didn't know, in the car with them. Tyrone didn't get a clear look at him because things happened so quickly, but the man broke Debbie's neck. The blows to her head didn't do it. You are right that no one could have mustered that much force from behind the driver's seat to kill by blows alone. The angles would not allow the murderer to gain enough leverage to do that. The laws of physics wouldn't allow it."
"It's strange to hear a psychic talk about physics," Cogan responded. "But you made a mistake. There's nothing about Debbie's neck breaking."
"Not yet," Ramsey stated, standing up to leave. "You still haven't received the coroner's report but you will see I'm right when you receive it. She died before the car crashed."
"Thank you for your time," Cogan told him, standing as well to mirror him. She stepped back when he produced a business card at his fingertips. Sleight of hand, she thought. That convinced her he was not a real psychic, just someone good at looking up public records to bamboozle people.
Ramsey stood there, holding the card for her. "Take it. You will want to call me again soon."
Something in his tone convinced her to take it but she still responded. "I doubt it, but I will call when they finish the autopsy."
"And you will find it was not a blow to the head that killed my god-daughter," he responded with a steely voice. He paused a moment before turning to leave.
Cogan stood there, watching him walk out of the office and then down the hallway as though he belonged there. He came in, saying he wanted information, and yet he seemed to give more than she gave. What a bombastic bastard, she thought to herself, before looking at the mountain of paperwork and folders on her desk. Just the same, Ramsey proved a good distraction from this.
There was another knock at the door and the detective turned to face the new arrival - a constable who looked like he had news for her.
"There's been another two accidents, Detective," he said.
"What? And no one told me?" she boomed. Although she felt tired inside herself, she moved to get her jacket.
"They happened at the same time just now," he replied.
"Oh?"
"Opposite ends of town," the officer replied, as Cogan passed him and hurried down the hallway. "What are the odds of that?"
Cogan looked at Ramsey's card which she still had in her hand, before slipping it back in her jacket's pocket. "Yes," she muttered, "what are the chances of that?"
Chapter 5
"That was exciting, wasn't it?" Emily said, floating alongside Ramsey as he stalked along the hallway.
"You always find it exciting when you embarrass me in front of a woman," Ramsey answered. He did this through telepathy because they were passing a few police officers. He didn't want them thinking he had an imaginary friend either.
"Of course," Emily replied with a cheeky smile, taking a moment to eye off a well-built police officer they passed. "It's how I keep you on your little tippy toes. But what was all that in the office?"
Ramsey paused for a moment outside the police station, looking at his watch as he answered. "What was what? I went in, looking for information. She told me what she could, and I found out the rest another way."
Emily laughed, sounding sure she knew there was more than Ramsey admitted. After all, she could tell things he couldn't know, him being a mere male. "What did you find out?"
Ramsey's features clouded for a moment as he considered his words. "I wish that Samuel and Ginetta were still alive, Emily, because I don't know how to handle this. But I'm glad they aren't here to see this. Debbie is too young to die."
Ramsey didn't speak the words aloud, because it hurt too much to admit, so Emily received his thoughts instead. Her hand reached out and touched his shoulder gently as she understood what he meant. In a past life so long ago, Emily Fraser once had a family, lots of children, and some of them died too young too. She remembered promising to protect them, to raise them to be strong and clever, and to be of great use to their clan and community. She believed living to see the young die was the greatest curse God could have placed on her.
A couple of people approached and Ramsey looked up, moving to the side when he realised he was blocking their passage into the building. The two women looked at Ramsey with concern as they passed, noting the tears he held back, and looked away. They had business of their own.
Emily bethought her answer for Ramsey's benefit. "You have done a great job with Debbie and Tyrone, better than I thought you would. Do you remember what little devils they were when you first became their guardian?"
Ramsey grinned, remembering the games the two children used to play on him. Debbie used to have an air of authority, enough to make someone believe her to be a responsible person. She and Tyrone used to take great advantage of that. One time, Tyrone came home from school, telling his "uncle Craig" that the next few days were "pupil-free days" and that he had those days off. Ramsey knew what those days meant, having heard of them when Sam or Ginetta mentioned them in the past, so he did not blink an eye at it. Debbie backed Tyrone's story up as well; being the older, and presumably most responsible one, she convinced Ramsey. They took the subterfuge further. Knowing Ramsey's psychic ability to know things through touching people or their possessions, the children took great pains to ensure he didn't touch them or their things. By doing so, they /could make sure Ramsey did not realise the truth. At least, that was their theory as he found out - when the school's principal called to let Ramsey, as their guardian, know they were absent.
Ramsey smiled at the memory, laughing to himself as he played it in his mind. It had been embarrassing for him when the school's principal who had seen Ramsey perform asked him, "How can those two children trick you? I thought you were a psychic." Ramsey knew exactly how they did it and he knew what to do about it too.
Unfortunately, he wasn't able to send the kids to school in time due to an important performance interstate. And knew he could not trust them to turn up at school if he sent them by plane back to Statton. But he had ample time to think of a suitable punishment their principal was happy to implement upon their return; detention during lunch times to make up for the time they had away from school. Ramsey felt tempted at the time to go further but he felt they received the message.
Although they were little devils, they were still good kids, and the only other real shenanigans came about from practical jokes they used to play on him. One time, he came back home to take a shower. Ink had sprayed out all over him from the shower-head they had sabotaged. Ramsey's response was just as simple. The children returned home to find that Ramsey had wrapped all their possessions in aluminium foil. Their beds, their pillows, their books, and their toys all received the same treatment. Debbie had screamed with dismay to find her teddy bears wrapped. It took Craig the whole day, with the help of a few other spirits, to help him out with that.
Brakes squealing and horns blaring interrupted Ramsey's reminiscence. He looked up in time to see a car run up onto the footpath and smash into the brick wall next to a lawyers' office. Ramsey noted the irony as the lawyer was a known ambulance chaser; he specialised in road accidents.
What he saw next surprised him. A dark robed spirit stepped through the car's door and surveyed the damage. Ramsey thought it seemed odd. It was not because the spirit dressed like the Grim Reaper who he knew from a long past encounter. He thought it odd because the spirit stepped from the front passenger seat where there was no body. Someone else sat in the driver seat and was not moving.
Ramsey looked towards Emily, motioning with his head. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"
They both hurried towards the scene, which was already gathering other spectators. A few pedestrians who had managed to dodge the runaway car approached as well. Some pedestrians were living, the others long dead. The spirits wore the clothing of their different time periods and a few still showed the traumatic cause of their death.
The "Reaper" spirit ignored them all, taking the time to touch the driver who remained completely still. Ramsey could see that movement came from the driver but it was driver's spirit exiting its body.
"Hey! You!" Ramsey called out. "Stop!"
The "Reaper" stopped what it was doing and glanced towards Ramsey. A deathly chill enveloped Ramsey as he approached, an obvious sign of anger from the spirit, and he slowed a little. Emily also slowed but kept a steady gaze upon the dark spirit as it fled the scene.
"Are you all right, Craig?" Emily asked him, noting his chills.
Ramsey nodded. "Yes, I'm fine. Follow him, Ems! Don't let him get away." He coughed, unable to stop as if something wanted to vacate his body, and Emily paused, but he waved her on. "Move!"
Emily, now certain Ramsey was fine, nodded and melted away as she hurried in pursuit of the Reaper. Ramsey coughed a little more, spitting up some phlegm before concentrating on his breathing. He cursed to himself for letting his psychic defences down lately. Under normal circumstances, he could have shaken that off without batting an eyelid. But Debbie's passing had been a shock to him and he had not even slept that night or allowed himself time to grieve. There had been so much to do, and he had neglected his meditation too. It was only through his years of conditioning that allowed him to recover as fast as he did now. But, just like physical exercise, the discipline still required persistence. Having finished coughing the negativity out as a green ooze, he stood up and felt better.
Craig Ramsey ran the fifty metres towards the accident scene and looked things over. The smashed car, a dirty blue Camry, faded by years of sunlight exposure, looked terrible and its driver looked worse. Craig was careful not to touch anything. He stood back, knowing the woman behind the wheel was dead and she wasn't capable or resurrecting as he did so long ago. Her slack-jawed mouth hung open in what must have been a scream of terror and her glazing brown eyes reflected nothing. Ramsey scrutinised her fingers, still gripping the steering wheel in vain, and noted the wedding ring on her finger, holding back a vision from his past. That was from another time and another Ramsey, a memory not worth reliving, but he knew how this woman's husband was likely to feel.
"Such a waste, isn't it?" a whispering voice said from beside him.
Ramsey tur
ned and saw an old man looking through the window at her. He was about to reply when he noticed the man had no shadow; the old man was a spirit, wearing the work clothes of a labourer from the 1950's. Long trousers, long sleeved work-shirt with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows. The man must have been in his late forties when he passed.
"Yes," he replied, surprising the spirit with his direct response as he looked at him. "Did you know her?"
The spirit-man took a step back as though uncertain how to respond. "You can see me?"
Ramsey nodded, "And I can hear you too."
The man smiled, revealing teeth like tombstones, and appeared glad that someone could communicate with him after so many years wandering the streets in death. "You have no idea how it feels to be able to talk with someone these days!"
Ramsey tried his best to stay patient. "I understand more than you know," he smiled. "Did you know this woman?"
The spirit shook his head and took a step closer towards the car, his head passing through the car's window to look closer at the dead driver. "I wish I did. She looks like one gorgeous dish, doesn't she? She must have upset that other guy though."
"Other guy?" Ramsey questioned, feigning ignorance. "What do you mean?"
"There was another guy in the car with her when the car lost control. All dressed in black, he was," the man said.
"He isn't here now," Ramsey said. "Do you see him?"
"Are you kidding?" the man said, wiping his brow with his cap. "He took off. I thought at first he must have been with her somehow and would wait for her to leave her body. I've seen it happen before when a husband waits for the wife, or the other way around. But, no! He took off so fast. I thought you would have seen him as he heard you call out to him before."
"So, he was a spirit then?" Ramsey asked.
"Yeah, but not like any I have seen, mate," the spirit replied. "Didn't you see how his shape seemed to change? I thought he was Death coming but I've never seen the Reaper kill someone before like a mad man would."