The Paths of Destiny
Garden Party

March 12, 2001:

It’s been just under six months since we had dealt with Chickering and the other Section Leaders. Since then, each of us went about our daily monotonous routine of dealing with paperwork. Every so often, our routine was broken up with field assignments.

Except for poor Doc.

When asked how his day’s going, he rants and raves to us about how he could do better with some of the reports that crossed his desk. According to him, some of his colleagues are clearly incompetent. He even asserts that his own autopsy would’ve uncovered more information.

It struck me that he had the mannerisms of “Bones” McCoy. Especially when he outright said one time, “I’m a Doctor, not a file clerk!”

I don’t blame him one bit.

I must agree. Doc’s talents are being wasted doing menial paperwork.

Nighthawk and Drayton have done a few Computer Security/Accounting jobs. All completely open — uniforms and all. Both were assigned to different, more experienced, partners for each assignment.

Especially galling to Drayton was being assigned to a snot-nosed, wet-behind-the-ears kid who thinks he’s “God’s gift to hacking” — his words, not mine. Drayton could easily run rings around anyone he chose once he’s set to a task involving computers. To add to the insult, Drayton was forced to make the kid look good because he was the Team Leader. Even though I don’t blame Drayton for his feelings, he should remember we all do what we must for the day when our talents have the chance to shine.

I’m starting to think my few glimpses I’ve had of Blackeagle are figments of my imagination. I’ve never had any actual contact with the man. The others, the way they talk, see him all the time. From what they’ve told me, Blackeagle has had a couple of guard jobs. Nothing to write home about. He did leave a note on my desk, however, saying the deodorizers helped a little.

As for me, I’ve been out on a couple of assignments. Nothing major really. A couple of babysitting jobs, the type Sami does. In fact, I found myself teamed with her on one assignment, and found the lady knew how to kick serious butt with the best of them. I later learned Sami specifically requested me for that assignment.

One other thing of note, the vent above my desk no longer leaks.

March 17, 2001:

It’s been an interesting past couple of days.

During that time, I was able to help solve a thirty-year-old mystery. Nearly tendered my resignation. Put my reputation and career at stake. Met a legend. And a few other people know of my activities within the supernatural realm.

But I’m getting ahead of myself.

It all started two days ago.

My day started at eight o’clock of a grey, grey Thursday, and I was contemplating my fourth cup of coffee while wondering how many more it would take for me to feel fully human and ready to go to work. There was a stack of files on my desk awaiting my attention, and I could swear it had just grown another two inches, even though no one had been near the desk. It was days like this that I seriously questioned my decision to leave the Miami-Dade PD and join the SPJ, and there had been too damn many of them lately.

Suddenly my cell phone rang. On the other end was Commander Storm.

“Parker, take an early lunch. Meet me at the Cap and Bells on Tallis Street at noon. Tell no one.”

Filled with the prospect of action, I found myself blazing through the files in record time. By the time I had made a fairly noticeable dent in the paperwork, it was time for me to meet the commander.

The Cap and Bells was off the beaten path, yet still within walking distance of Headquarters. West on the Embankment to John Carpenter Street, North on John Carpenter, then West again on Tallis. In fact, because of the one-way system, walking was both shorter and faster.

The pub, itself, was fairly nondescript. Red brick, probably Georgian in origin. The sign above the door had been freshly painted, depicting a jester’s cap with bells mounted on the points. There were two doors, one to the main room, and the other to a smaller, private bar.

I decided to enter the latter on the assumption Storm would want as much privacy as possible, based on the phone call earlier.

The Private bar took up the rest of the front of the building. As with the entrance from the street to the pub, there were two entrances to the private bar. One from the street and the other from the Public bar. As I entered, I found it to be much quieter and a lot less crowded. There were fewer tables per square foot, and fewer people occupying them. The bar, itself, was made of rich rosewood, lovingly shined, with a gleaming top.

The barman nodded to me as I came in and looked around.

At the end of the room to the left, the room again turned a corner, apparently on to a smaller room. I went to this end of the room and looked down it. At the far end was a larger table. Storm was seated in one of the chairs, nursing a pint.

He nodded to me as I approached and sat down. The barman came over once I’d settled in and took my order.

Like most of the other pubs I had visited, this one was no different. They had the basic pub grub; pasties, Scotch eggs, over-stuffed sandwiches with crisps. Crisps are what we Americans would call potato chips. The food was simple, good and filling, and arrived in short order, together with a refill on my drink. Storm nodded to the barman, who retired out of earshot but where he could still see us.

“I’ve been hearing good reports of you,” he began, voice a bit slurred. “Your Department Head submits them monthly to your Section Leader who forwards them on to your Senior Commander, and in some cases, copy to me.”

He smiled briefly.

“Well done. Keep on the way you’ve been going and you’ll make it through your 6 month and 1 year evaluations with flying colors.”

After a slight pause, he continued.

“But that’s not why you’re here. I mention it only to let you know that you are being watched, and you are being regarded favorably.”

He downed his pint, the third one he’d ordered in my presence, and signaled for a refill. Which, of course, the barman brought over. Storm hadn’t eaten unless he ate before I arrived. There was no sign of used dishes on the table, but then again, the barman seemed to be very efficient and had probably cleared off Storm’s lunch prior to my arriving.

Taking a long pull at the pint, Storm continued once more.

“I attended my old College reunion last night,” he began. “I ran into something I think needs to be checked out. For reasons, which I hope will become obvious, I... don’t feel I can do this officially. Are you up to a little extra-curricular activity?”

“Of course, Sir,” I replied. “I can do some discreet investigating for you. I’ve got writer’s block right now, anyway. So this distraction should be a good cure for me.”

My writer’s block, of course, was due to the fact I’ve had no new supernatural cases to base my books on. But then again, my activities, since joining the SPJ, have kept me pretty busy.

“What is it you need of me?”

When one looks at Nick Storm, one sees a man who projects an air of competence and command.

Usually.

Today, he was definitely rattled. Spooked, even.

“I don’t want to prejudice you. I want you to go to the school and look around. Then report back to me. To me personally.”

He fumbled for a pen, uncapped it, and in the manner of one who’s had a little too much to drink, very carefully replaced the cap on the other end. Then he pulled out a small notebook and scrawled an address. He recapped the pen and put it and the notebook away, then handed me the paper with the address on it.

“The reunion took place at eight o’clock last night. After the school was closed. I... I suggest you do the same. Go there at night, I mean.”

He signaled for another pint.

Before the pint arrived, Storm slumped over, snoring. Passing the problem over to me had obviously relaxed him enough to sleep. Or pass out.

Being fairly sure no one needed to see Storm in such a state, one that might be detrimental to his career I might add, I searched through his wallet and got his address, called for a cab, and settled the tab with the barkeep. Once the cab arrived, I got Storm back to his home. Telling the cabbie to wait, I managed to get Storm to his apartment building door. Since the door was locked, I had to prop him up against it while I searched for a spare key.

While I was searching for the key, I thought it unusual that someone so high in the Organization would live in such a nondescript apartment block. There wasn’t even a door attendant. Storm, though, was a very private person. However, after a short period I found a key ring with a bunch of keys, after finally thinking to search Storm’s pockets. A few more minutes of trying different ones I managed to find the right key and opened the door.

Once inside, I made our way to his apartment and hoped I could at least get him inside his rooms as easily as I got into the building. Unfortunately, unlike the main key, the rest of them weren’t as obvious. I spent several minutes trying one key after another.

Some of them I recognized as belonging to the offices at HQ. There was one that was probably an apartment key, but no way to tell what apartment. And, no, there was no convenient directory hanging on the wall.

To top it off, while I was trying one key after another, there were two men coming down the hall towards me. Ignoring the men for the moment, I tried the key that appeared to be an apartment key and prayed that it was the right one.

No dice. Either it was the wrong key, or I had misread Storm’s apartment number on his driver’s license.

I had to prop Commander Storm up against the wall when I began trying keys. While I was busy, the two men drifted apart in the hallway, then, as they passed me, one whirled, pulling a sidearm which he promptly jammed into my side.

“Freeze.”

The other pulled Storm aside and started expertly checking him over.

“Easy guys,” I said hurriedly. “This is my boss. He had one too many pints and I brought him home. Check my wallet and his and you’ll find that we both work together.”

“He’s definitely drunk,” the one checking Storm over said.

His companion nodded.

“Hands over your head, please.”

Not wanting to cause a scene, I raised my hands over my head slowly to avoid any trigger-happy fingers and my turning into Swiss cheese.

My hands were lowered behind my back and I found myself expertly secured. A position I had often placed others during my police career, but never found myself in before.

The weapon was put away, and my captor turned me carefully to face him.

“Your wallet, please?”

Once I told him which pocket, he gently removed my wallet and went through it thoroughly.

“Parker,” he nodded to me, “Robert Bixby. Investigations.”

“Tony,” to the other man, “can you take Commander Storm to his apartment, or will you need my help?”

“I can manage. He’s starting to come around,” Tony replied as he guided Storm to the elevator and in.

“So, Parker,” my captor said to me as he pulled out his own wallet and produced his ID.

He was Graeme Roberts, a Captain in the Security Section.

“Mind telling me what’s going on here?”

“Sure,” I easily answered. “Though you might want to look a little closer in my wallet and see that I’m also a member of the SPJ.”

“Go on,” Roberts grunted.

“Commander Storm requested I meet him for lunch,” I continued. “We had lunch, talked about how he enjoyed his reunion, and he asked me a bit about myself. He even asked about my writing. I told him since I’d started my training with the SPJ I had writer’s block. I write novels in my spare time. He assured me that my writer’s block would go away. He had a few too many pints, as you can see, during our conversation. In addition, since I felt it would be detrimental to the Commander’s career, I felt it prudent to get him home to protect him. Simple as that.”

I figured if I kept talking long enough, Storm would wake up soon and be coherent enough to help straighten this whole thing out. Admittedly, I told a half-truth since I was sure the Commander didn’t want to let others know our true conversation. Of course, I was at the same time figuring out a way I could get out of this if Storm didn’t wake up. And I weighing my chances of success. Confident as I was about being able to escape this hired gorilla, I had a strange feeling this would probably not go the way I’d planned.

While I was speaking, Roberts was holding my SPJ ID in one hand, nodding his head while he looked at it carefully.

“Parker, I know that name,” he smiled slowly. “You helped take down Section Leader Chickering, didn’t you?”

Roberts, of course, was referring to what I call the “Chickering Affair” from six months ago.

“Yes,” I answered warily but modestly, “I did have a hand in that. Wouldn’t have been able to pull it off, though, had Commander Storm not given me and my team the go ahead to do the investigation in the first place.”

“And now you’re going after him?” Roberts asked.

Utterly confused at this moment I asked innocently, “After whom?”

I should point out my hands were secured behind my back, my back was against the wall and Captain Graeme Roberts, Security Section, was subtly crowding me. Also, as he was looking at me, I could read the menace in his eyes, and I began to shake my head.

“Commander Storm. You took down Section Leader Chickering, and now you’re going after Commander Storm, is that right?”

From the way he was standing, he was ready for a fight, and with my hands secured, I wasn’t entirely sure I could take him. And since he both outweighed and outranked me, I wasn’t sure I should even try.

But it didn’t stop me from tempting Fate.

“You have got to be kidding me,” I replied just as menacingly and quite indignantly. “Were it not for the Commander’s foresight, who knows what kind of mischief Chickering and his cronies would’ve been up to? I owe that man thanks for allowing us to help bring those bastards down. What would it gain me to bring down a man I owe thanks to? Not a damned thing.”

I was pissed.

“Commander Storm asked me to have lunch with him at the Cap and Bells. We had a few pints and the next thing I know, he’s passed out. I did the only thing I thought prudent to protect his reputation. I brought him home. At least I tried to until you and your gorilla buddy decided to interfere.”

Suddenly, his hands, large and meaty, came up and fastened in the lapels of my jacket.

“I’ve never seen him drunk before. Not passing-out drunk.”

He then began to shake me, back and forth, from side to side.

“Why? Why did he need to get that drunk? What did he tell you?”

“You shaking me like that isn’t going to help me answer any faster,” I replied glibly. “Of course, you keep getting so excitable like that and you’ll wind up with a coronary. Speaking of coronaries, do you realize you’re pretty red in the face right now? The veins in your temples are all swollen and pulsing really fast. Good indication of an elevated blood pressure and a very fast track to a possible stroke. You’d pass out at the least. You wouldn’t do the Commander, or yourself, any good out of whack like that. Might even want to cut down on your salt intake.”

Knowing full well I was making this guy angrier with each word I spoke, I’d been working my hands free. Once my hands were free and I uttered the last word, I kneed the captain in his family jewels. And clapped my hands as hard as I could on his ears. Hard enough to knock him unconscious.

“Told you you’d pass out,” I said to the prone figure.

As Roberts collapsed to the ground, the elevator opened, and a barely conscious Nick Storm, accompanied by a very worried Tony, exited.

“What - the - hell - is - going - on here?” Storm demanded in a voice that was steadily getting stronger with each word.

“Sorry, Commander,” I answered. “But your boys, here, were trying to prevent me from saving you from a scandal. You passed out at the pub. I figured it was prudent to get you home and your men thought I was up to mischief.”

“About the captain, here,” I continued, nudging Roberts’ unconscious form with my toe. “He got a little excited and passed out while he was doing his best imitation of a Spanish Inquisition on me.”

I took a breath before continuing.

“I’d really appreciate it, Commander, if you’d explain to Tony that you asked me to lunch and expressed an interest in my writing. This way I might be able to go and finish my work. As it is I’m going to be at my desk until at least 1930 tonight taking care of a huge stack of paperwork.”

“You,” a very sober Nick Storm said, “will be on that errand I asked you to run.”

“Pick him up,” he nodded to Tony. “Take him downstairs. I don’t care what Parker did to him; it was deserved. In addition, you can tell him from me that I am royally pissed. Tell him to hold himself ready to answer to me as soon as he wakes up. I don’t care whose son he is, and you can tell him that, as well.”

“I apologize,” Storm turned back to me. “You thought you were doing the right thing. I’m sorry it turned out this way.”

“Sir,” I began quietly so only the two of us could hear, “you were obviously rattled at the pub from whatever you saw last night at your reunion. Enough to get yourself well beyond the legal limit of a blood alcohol test. It was risky on your part, if I may be so bold, to do yourself in like that… and risk your career. So I took it upon myself to get you home before someone saw the state you were in.”

I took a quick look around.

“Quite frankly, Commander,” I began hesitantly. “If I didn’t know better, based on the information you managed to tell me, I’d say you saw a ghost.”

Storm looked at me for a moment as if weighing what I’d just said.

“Coffee. My quarters. Now.”

“Wait one, Sir.” I blurted realizing I’d forgotten about the cab. “I need to dismiss the cab.”

Once the cab was dismissed, Storm led the way back to the elevator as I followed quietly. We remained silent until we reached his quite elegant third floor apartment. Once in, he closed the door and turned to face me.

“You sound like you know what you’re talking about.”

Once again, my mouth gave me away. Either that, or my superior was a very shrewd guesser. Either way, I had to own up.

“This is going to sound a bit difficult to believe, Commander,” I began as I took a seat. “When I said I had writers block, I was fudging the truth a bit. Are you familiar with an author known as William Anthony Nall? Well, I’m that author. All my books are based on actual supernatural cases I’ve investigated and solved.”

I told him about my family history and related to him some of the stories told to me by my great-grandmother. I told him about my first experience in the Philippines and my first visit from Jasmine. I even showed him the white tiger claw necklace.

By the time I was done my throat was dry and I was actually relieved that someone else knew my secret. I was also a bit wary of what Storm’s reaction would be. He might even decide to have me sent off to a sanitarium; complete with a “hug me” jacket, a white padded room. And all the shock therapy and drugs I might ever wish for.

He stared down at me for a long moment as if weighing my words for Judgment Day.

“Can you prove it?”

“Prove it?” I replied. “No…”

“But I can,” said another voice.

Slowly, Jasmine materialized in the space between us.

Storm’s reaction was... peculiar, to say the least.

“You, again! How did you get in here?”

Being as ghost-like as ever, Jasmine glided across the room, her feet not moving. She approached Storm and held out her hand. He attempted to take it, but of course couldn’t.

“You... You...”

Storm sat down abruptly with eyes wide, and obvious fright on his face.

“He needs your help, Robert,” Jasmine said softly without taking her eyes off Storm. “Listen and help him. I’ll see you tonight.”

Her last words echoed as she faded from sight.

For a couple of seconds Storm sat staring at the empty space Jasmine had previously occupied, his eyes wide and mouth hung open as if transfixed. Then he shook himself out of his reverie, licked his lips, cleared his throat and looked right at me, eyes shining.

“You’ll go, then?” Storm asked eagerly if hoarsely.

“You bet your sweet bippy I will, Sir,” I replied letting loose a breath I hadn’t known I was holding.

To say the least, I was ecstatic. Storm believed there were some things out there beyond mortal ken. To be honest, I wasn’t quite sure how I was going to provide the proof I knew he asked for. Thankfully, Jasmine came to my rescue. She was my ace in the hole and came through without any prompting from me.

“Oh, and before you ask,” I continued more seriously, “yes, that was the Lady Jasmine, my great-great-grandmother. Quite the beauty, isn’t she? She’s been my friend and companion ever since the day I made detective with the Miami-Dade PD.”

I leaned toward him.

“I would ask a favor of you, however,” I began. “I’d appreciate the utmost discretion in regards to Jasmine’s existence. Not a lot of people really believe such things are possible. Eventually, I’ll wind up having to reveal her identity to whoever my long-term teammates turn out to be. But for now, let her secret be just between the two of us.”

I settled back in my seat.

“Now, what other details about last night can you give me? Oh and about that coffee you mentioned. Might I possibly beg a cup off of you?”

Nick nodded and went into the kitchen and prepared the coffee, then came back into the main room.

“Coffee’s brewing.”

He pulled out a pack of cigarettes.

“Do you mind?” he asked taking one out.

“I saw her last night, you know,” he said not waiting for a reply. “Your Lady Jasmine. I had gone to my college reunion. I’m not sure what time it was, but I stepped out onto the terrace for a cigarette. As I did, a clock chimed midnight. Your Lady Jasmine came up to me, introduced herself as Mrs. Roger Bixby, and shook my hand. Yes, she was quite solid. She pointed off down the terrace and said there was someone waiting for me. I looked.”

There was a wonderment in his voice.

“It was Jenny. Ginevra Marsden. A girl I’d gone to school with. I walked down the terrace, took her in my arms, and we waltzed for over an hour. I remember the clock chiming one, then the beginning of the chimes for two. That’s when your Lady Jasmine came over and said I had to go back in, I had to leave. I kissed Jenny and then went back into the auditorium.”

Pausing to take a deep puff of his cigarette, he continued.

“Ginevra Marsden committed suicide in 1973. Almost 30 years ago.”

“I take it,” I said after waiting a few moments for him to go on, “your Ginevra was a sweetheart of yours?”

“We were going to be married,” he nodded slowly.

I fixed myself a cup of coffee, so I could gather my thoughts, and sat back down. I looked around the apartment and realized it was a bachelor apartment. Jenny’s death must’ve begged Storm off from any permanent romantic engagements.

“What caused her to commit suicide?” I asked. “I mean if you two were to be married, that doesn’t make any sense. She wasn’t in any kind of trouble or anything like that, was she?”

“I don’t know. I. Don’t. Know!”

“Okay,” I said trying a different tack. “Did she say anything to you while you two were dancing?”

“We quarreled that night, that last night,” he remembered, sipping his own coffee. “Spring Fling weekend. Too many parties. I had one of my own to attend on the other side of the campus. Ricky took Jenny for me. He left her there, went on to his own party. She... she was found in the auditorium about two the next morning. Dead.” sᴇaʀᴄh thᴇ FɪndNøvel.ɴet website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

Storm paused for a moment, shaking his head.

“No, she didn’t say anything. She just... held me. We... danced. It... seemed important, at the time.”

“Perhaps,” I said as I lit up my own cigarette, “it was her way of saying goodbye and to apologize for the argument. Out of curiosity. Who found her and who said it was a suicide?”

“I... I don’t remember,” he replied as he lit another cigarette from the butt of his previous one. “They called them the Student Union Suicides.”

“So there was more than one,” I mused. “Were there any suicide notes or anything like that? Or how about the method of the suicides? You wouldn’t happen to know if any of the reports are still available on those cases by chance would you?”

“The reports would’ve been archived by now,” he paused. “But I can get them for you. I don’t remember how many there were that year. Four or five, I think.”

“Yes, get those reports for me,” I replied. “Right now, my guess is the suicides and your visitation from last night, are connected. To be sure, I’d like to check out the other scenes of the suicides as well.”

“Are you going to the school tonight?” Storm asked. “I want to go with you.”

“Are you sure you are up to it? I mean, if you get another visitation will you be okay?”

“Parker, I need to be there. Your Lady Jasmine notwithstanding, I need to be sure what happened last night really happened, and if I can communicate with Jenny,” he broke off, then continued, visibly affected, “then I need to communicate with her.”

He stood up and began pacing.

“It’s not about me, Parker. It’s about Jenny, and what happened almost thirty years ago.”

“Good enough for me,” I nodded as I stood.

I had to admire the man. He’d been through a lot in his lifetime and seen a lot of things that probably seemed like a walk in the park to him. Last night, however, was something that not even he would’ve expected. To be honest, no sane person should expect to see a ghost, let alone dance with one, and not come away from the experience more than just a little creeped out.

All in all, I would say Nick Storm was doing rather well.

Come to think of it, am I crazy? As far as I know, I’m fine after all the experiences I’ve been through.

We arranged for me to come back for him later. He nodded, dismissing me. Clearly that problem was well in hand, and it was time for him to turn to something else.

As I was leaving, I overheard him on the phone ordering Captain Roberts to come see him. I couldn’t hide the tiny smile of satisfaction and felt no pity for Roberts, who was about to pray for a real Spanish Inquisition.

I arrived at Storm’s apartment at seven, the time he told me he had left the night before. We then proceeded to the Stratford Campus of the University of East London on High Street in Stratford, London via public transportation.

Earlier in the day I had done some homework. Not all my time back at my desk had been spent on the files, which had mounted up to near falling over, yet again.

The University of East London, or UEL, is a university in East London. Founded in 1970 as the North East London Polytechnic, it later changed its name to the Polytechnic of East London. It’s a “new university” earning university status almost a decade ago in 1992.

Its vision is “To achieve recognition, both nationally and internationally, as a successful and inclusive regional university, proud of our diversity, committed to new modes of learning which focus on students and enhance their employability, and renowned for our contribution to social, cultural and economic development, especially through our research and scholarship.”

The academic staff consists of members who’ve earned an international reputation in all the University’s schools. In the case of Sociology, Art and Design and Cultural and Innovation Studies, the majority of research has been recognized by the 2001 Research Assessment Exercise as World class. Overall, the University’s research is ranked in the top ten amongst Britain’s new universities by The Guardian.

The Stratford Campus is a melting pot of the historic and the modern, providing some of the very latest in teaching and learning facilities, yet in a warm, elegant setting ideal for study. And, with a range of exciting new facilities opening or in development, and the myriad benefits that will spring from the impending Stratford redevelopment, the rapidly developing campus is an exciting and dynamic place in which to study.

My researches also led me to the Alumni List. Storm graduated in 1975, with a PhD in Education. I also found that Ricky Vallance, current Senior Commander of Public Relations and Support for the SPJ, was a year behind him. Surprisingly enough, his Doctorate was in Architecture and the Visual Arts. Even more surprising to me was Storm’s age, currently fifty-five; he looked at least fifteen years younger.

We reached the Stratford Campus about eight; the time Storm told me he’d arrived.

The school itself took up the whole block. It was housed in a series of multi-story, red brick Georgian residences that had been modified from their original design to provide classrooms, facilities, offices for the faculty and staff. Storm said, he arrived around eight for the reunion, but, whatever it was, didn’t happen until a couple of hours had passed.

Storm had been busy, too. He’d made prior arrangements for us to gain entry to the auditorium. When we stated our intentions to go visit the auditorium, we had no problems, and the campus guard waved us through and wished us a good night.

The auditorium was a large room with floor to ceiling windows on one side. The windows opened onto a garden.

Evidence of the previous night’s festivities was still apparent. Chairs and tables were stacked along one wall, waiting to be removed for storage. There was a small stage at one end, with a central dais. I noticed a killer sound system in a room at the back of the auditorium and a pull-down screen over the stage. It was obvious the place could be used for lectures and presentations as well.

There were traces of bunting around the walls. I noticed someone had made a halfhearted effort to remove it. I remembered this was the university’s Spring Break, and Storm’s class was the only group in residence last night. Since no groups were likely to be there, I had a free hand to conduct my investigation.

“Jenny was found over there,” Nick said abruptly, waving his hand in the general direction of the stage. “There were five suicides that term. Jenny was the last. All from the same service club.”

“You happen to get any more records?” I asked going to the place Storm indicated. “I’d like to know what they might say about these suicides.”

Before he could answer, I noticed the door to the terrace open slowly.

Jasmine was standing there, beckoning urgently.

“Robert! Come quickly. We have very little time!”

Nudging Storm, I went toward Jasmine.

“What is it Jasmine?” I asked, following her out the door.

As I stepped through onto the terrace, Jasmine reached out and took my hand.

And the garden came alive.

Couples, dressed in colorful costumes, were walking up and down the pathways. Intent on themselves and each other, they didn’t seem to see me.

I noted the dress was a mix of periods and styles, ranging from the late 1700s to the late 1900s. Ball-gowns, formal wear. Definitely upper class.

While I’d been gawking at the different eras represented before me, Jasmine had been murmuring in my ear.

“This is a Place of Power. People who have the ability can cross over at certain times of the year. I am surprised you don’t realize. Today is the Ides of March.”

Jasmine went on after a moment when she realized I wasn’t going to say anything.

“The garden will be available for only two hours, from midnight to two. Then it will fade away again. Last night, the garden was here for one hour only, from eleven to midnight. Tomorrow, it will appear from two to three, then will be gone for another year.”

She gave me a moment to take everything in.

“The manifestation is stronger this year,” she continued looking at me wonderingly. “It’s because of your presence. Last night’s manifestation was also strong. Your friend came out for a cigarette and struck up a conversation with one of the women. Then they danced together on the terrace. When the garden faded the woman faded as well, leaving the man standing there.”

Jasmine paused.

“She’s back, Robert,” she said suddenly. “Over there.”

Nick had already noticed Jenny and was headed towards her.

Jenny was a petite little thing. All of five foot three. Short hair style, reminiscent of the flapper era of the 1920s. The dress she wore was an Oscar de la Renta knock off, judging from the cut and style, due to the similarity of some of the dresses that Jacqueline Onassis once wore. Matching shoes that appeared to be Dolce Vita, also knock offs. Her white alabaster-toned skin appeared to glow in the light of the full moon.

“Well, I’ll be,” I said in wonderment as I followed Storm. “I’d heard of this happening only once before. Never really expected to see an event such as this. Much less be a part of it.”

I saw the spectacle with new eyes and wonderment. Fascinated by what I was experiencing.

“So, Jasmine,” I continued. “Up to giving me some idea why I’m here? Is it because of Storm’s lady friend? And if so was it suicide or murder?”

Jasmine linked arms with me. She was pleasantly warm and quite solid.

In her solid state, Jasmine was a lithe five foot six. Normally her long, black hair would be worn loose and hanging down to her slim waist. For tonight, it was done up adding an extra two inches to her height. Her skin was lighter in tone than her contemporaries of her native India. Her soft, doe-shaped, brown eyes showed the intelligence of one who’d seen many years. Her smile, as she explained to me what was going on, was that of a delighted child who has first experienced a new wonder. She was dressed in a formal gown one would expect at a function such as this, but consistent with her native Victorian Era befitting an Earl’s wife.

“Murder,” Jasmine said sadly as soon as I asked my question. “All five of them.”

“Just as I suspected,” I said nodding my head. “My first clue came when Storm told me he and Jenny were to be married. The second when I found out four others had also committed suicide in that year. The third when Storm mentioned they were from the same service club.”

Before we reached Storm and Jenny, I stopped and turned to Jasmine.

“Did you, by chance, get to speak with Jenny about what happened or meet any of the other murdered girls?”

“No, Robert, she’s very confused. I don’t think she knows she’s dead.”

“Perhaps, then, she blocked out the last moments of her life.”

A thought suddenly occurred to me.

“Do all of these spirits here know they are dead?”

“Well, I certainly do!” Jasmine replied tossing her head. “Robert, I don’t know about the others here. It’s... not something we talk about.”

I prudently dropped the subject and led us back to Storm and Jenny.

“How’re you doing, Commander,” I asked not hiding my concern for his well-being.

“It’s Jenny,” he smiled in wonderment. “It really is Jenny.”

Storm twirled his companion in time to the music.

“Jenny, this is my good friend Robert. He wants to ask you a few questions about the last time we saw each other. You remember. You were going to a party. We quarreled about which party we would go to...”

Nick nodded for me to start speaking with her.

“Hello, Jenny,” I began, offering my hand and a non-threatening smile. “I understand you and Nick are to be married. Congratulations. When’s the big day?”

I figured if I could get her in the mood to talk, she might be more amenable to answering the tougher questions.

Jenny smiled shyly saying, “We haven’t set a date yet. We were planning on graduating first. Nick says a good education is very important. He’s going to be a teacher.”

The last was uttered with a warm, proud smile up at Storm.

Giving Storm a quick knowing smile I said to Jenny, “A teacher, huh? And what about yourself, Jenny? What’re you studying to be?”

“What a long, strange trip it has been,” Storm murmured.

“I’m taking a general degree. I haven’t declared a field of study yet.”

Jenny gave Storm a puzzled glance.

“Are you studying here, Mr. Parker?”

“Actually, no, but I’m considering it,” I replied smoothly. “I plan on getting a degree in Medieval History. I’m in town visiting some relatives and friends. Ran into Nick the other day and he invited me to come and enjoy the party.”

“You’ll want to talk to Nick’s friend Ricky, then,” Jenny smiled. “He’s in the College of Visual Arts.”

“I shall endeavor to do so,” I replied with a return smile and slight nod of the head towards Jenny. “Nick told me that you two had some kind of argument earlier tonight. He wasn’t being rakish about whatever it was you two were arguing about was he? He can get that way sometimes and not mean to.”

I gave Storm a wink to let him know it’s just a friendly probe and not to worry.

“No, it was about the parties. We had two different ones to attend. I wanted to come here first then go over to his, he said he had to go to his first, and then he could bring me here.”

A lively tune began playing as a couple, dressed in eighteenth century garb, passed by.

“But it actually worked out all right, because Nick asked Ricky to bring me here, and said he’d meet me later, as soon as he could get away.”

Jenny took Nick’s arm and smiled up at him.

Disguising his pain, Nick returned the smile.

“Just out of curiosity, Jenny,” I said carefully. “Nick tells me you belong to a service club. Is that correct?”

“Yes, ‘The Sisters of Mercy’,” she answered quite proudly. “We’re more known for our charitable works than for partying.”

A quick smile that lit up her face.

“This,” she continued, waving her hand to encompass the entire scene, “is our Annual Spring Dance.”

“Anything unusual happen of late within your club?”

Jenny’s hand sank down to her side as she wilted into sadness.

“Some girls died. They... they said it was suicide. Why? Why do you ask?”

I had to tread lightly here. I didn’t need to spook the spirit of Nick Storm’s fiancée.

“I take in interest in suicide cases that initially appear to be separate incidents. From what Nick’s told me, all the girls that appeared to be suicides were from the same service club and within the same term. To me that seems to be more than just a coincidence. And if you’re up to it, I’d like your help in solving this.”

“Three of them were my friends, Mr. Parker. I’ll do anything I can to help you,” she said firmly.

Breathing an inward sigh of relief, I smiled and said, “Please, no need to be formal. Call me Robert.”

I took jenny’s hand to reassure her before I began my questioning.

“First of all,” I continued, “did your friends have any similarities aside from being in the same service club? Physical characteristics; hair length and color, body shape, classes, etc.?”

Jenny thought carefully.

“Maggie was blonde. Judy and Amy were brunettes. Sue and I are sort of dishwater, and Lillian was a redhead.”

A slight pause.

“We’re all..., well...,” her hands described a shape in front of her, and she blushed. “I... I guess we’re all good looking. At least, Nick says I am.”

Jenny ducked her head in embarrassment.

“Judy and Sue were studying in the Visual Arts College. They were the first. I’m not sure where the rest were studying. Amy was next, then Maggie, then Lillian. Lillian was just before the term ended.”

“Okay so there were a total of five of your service club sisters that were believed to have committed suicide?”

That would make a total of six, including Jenny, who apparently from my observations so far, didn’t realize she was dead. Confirming what Jasmine told me a few moments ago.

What puzzled me, at that moment, was Jasmine mentioning five were murdered. Therefore, which of the others were the murder victims?

Jasmine must have known what I was thinking. I felt her tugging on my sleeve and turned to look at her.

“I didn’t know about the first one, Judy,” she murmured in my ear as she draped an arm around my neck. “She really was a suicide, I think.”

Well, that explained the numeric discrepancy. But I still had questions. I still hadn’t established a link between the dead girls.

“Okay,” I said to Jasmine, turning back to Jenny. “Where would the girls and you hang out when you weren’t in class? Did you all have a favorite place you liked to go? Include any place that might seem trivial. Did any of the girls show signs of stress, have any common friends in or out of the service club; common ex-boyfriends, lovers, etc.?”

Jenny frowned, thinking. “The Student Union, of course. There was nowhere else to go. That we could afford that is. We didn’t have any classes in common. My friends were Sue, Amy and Maggie. Sometimes we went into town together, but not after....”

She stopped, wide-eyed.

“Ricky Vallance. They all dated Ricky.”

“The same Ricky that brought you here?” I asked as a light bulb suddenly brightened in my mind.

Without waiting for an answer, I turned to Storm, “Nick, where’is Ricky right now? Is he still in town or is he away on assignment?”

“I think he’s in town. I can find out,” he replied as he reached for his phone.

Jasmine jogged his elbow.

“Not here. You’ll have to wait.”

“Nick,” I said giving a look of thanks to Jasmine, “I think I saw a pay phone just outside. Go find out if he’s in town. If he is, see if you can get him to come meet us.”

“Jenny,” I said turning back to her as Storm left to call Vallance. “Have you ever dated or been accompanied by Ricky before?”

“It wasn’t a date, Robert. He just brought me here because Nick had to go to his own party. It was very innocent...,” she said, looking up at me. “We only danced one dance, then, he left. He had his own party to go to...”

“Jenny,” I said softly. “Did something happen during your dance with him? You can tell me. I promise not to tell Nick about it.”

“No, he was a perfect gentleman. He always was, with me. He knew that Nick and I were engaged, you see, and he wouldn’t do anything to hurt either one of us.”

The clock chimed one.

“Jasmine,” I said softly, “see if you can find Nick and get him back here as fast as possible.”

“If I leave, Robert, he won’t be able to see me,” Jasmine murmured for my ears only.

I turned back to Jenny.

“What about the other girls, Jenny,” I continued. “Did they say anything about him? Such as showing signs of jealousy or anything like that?”

“The only one who was jealous was Sara. Sara Porter. She always wanted Ricky for herself, but he never went back to her. No one knows why they broke up originally.”

“Sara Porter,” I murmured. “What do you know about her?”

Jenny frowned, thinking.

“She could’ve had anyone, really, but she wanted Ricky. She hadn’t declared a major either, but everyone knew she was here for her MRS degree. She was already at the party when Ricky and I arrived. She brought me a cup of punch. I thought it was too sweet, but I drank it to be polite. That... that’s... that’s the last thing I remember...”

Knowing I’d be bombarded by questions from Jenny I decided to take the risk and call Storm from my cell phone and hoped he would answer.

No signal.

“Crap,” I muttered to myself while looking at the time. “Jasmine would you mind keeping Jenny company? I’m going to see if I can locate Nick or at least get a clear signal on my phone to contact him.”

“He is not here, Robert. You won’t be able to reach him unless you leave. And if you leave, you might not be able to get back tonight.”

The clock just chimed the quarter hour.

Jasmine looked worried.

“Hurry, Robert, please? My control is slipping.”

“I have to take that chance,” I said to Jasmine for her ears alone. “You said that we have one more night of this, right? If so, then that gives me time to solve this case and bring Jenny’s and her friends’ murderer to justice and get Nick back here in time to make his peace with Jenny.”

The garden was starting to empty as the spirits faded out in ones and twos.

“Jenny,” I said urgently, turning back to the woman. “I need for you to tell me all you remember about that night with Sara; anything she might’ve said or done. How she looked. Facial expressions. Anything at all. I also need for you to tell me anything that you know about her and Ricky during their relationship.”

“I’ll try,” she replied.

“You know that most of the people in this school are older than the average college student? Nick was 25 when he started here. He came to finish up his Doctorate in Education. We met in a seminar on child rearing he was taking for extra credit and I was auditing. He was going to graduate in 1975. I’m a few years younger than he is... I’ve always wondered what he saw in me.”

Jenny crinkled her brow in thought for a moment before continuing.

“Sara Porter was one of those girls who thought she was one of the in-crowd. In fact, they only tolerated her. She was useful. She had money and didn’t mind spending it. But that was all.”

It was quiet in the garden now. A few guests were still milling about.

“She dated Ricky for about six months, and then they broke up. No one ever knew why. Sara wouldn’t say, and Ricky was too much of a gentleman to tell. But she always wanted him back. She was very jealous of anyone he went with after that.”

Jenny looked around for a moment. She must have sensed her time in the garden was nearly over as she hurriedly spoke.

“The night of the party, Nick had to be at his own service club party on the other side of the campus. He was the club president, and so was the host of the party. For... for some reason, I got mad at him, told him I had to be here. Ricky was there, they roomed together back then. He told Nick he had time to bring me here before picking up his date and going on to his own party. When we got here, he asked for one dance, so I wouldn’t feel like ‘I’d been delivered like a parcel,’ he said. We danced, he kissed my forehead, and left.”

She caressed the spot where Vallance had kissed her for a moment before continuing.

“About two hours later, Sara came over to me with a glass of punch. She said I looked warm, so she had brought me a drink. The punch was too sweet, but I drank it anyway, to be polite. After I finished, she took the glass with her.”

Jenny shook her head slowly at the thought.

“Fifteen minutes later I started feeling dizzy. I looked for Nick, but he hadn’t arrived yet. And Ricky had already left, so I went and sat down, over there, by the stage.”

She pointed.

“That’s... that’s all I remember, until I turned around on the terrace and saw Nick coming towards me.”

I remembered from Storm’s reports that each girl had died after attending a party. Autopsies showed they died from a massive overdose of Isopropyl alcohol. Rubbing alcohol. My research also stated the taste of the substance is indistinguishable from the taste of regular drinking alcohol, especially when mixed in a drink.

My recent conversation with Jenny told me five girls were associated with Ricky Vallance. Four of whom dated him. Jenny was brought to the party by Vallance. Also, in characteristic fashion, he kissed her on the forehead before he left.

Based on this... and the information about Sara Porter... my most likely culprit was Porter. Her behavior of jealousy towards any woman — other than herself — receiving even a hint of affection from Vallance was a classic case of motive; to get rid of any obstacles in her way of obtaining her object of obsession. Even committing murder.

All I needed to do now was prove it. Get her to confess so Jenny and the rest of those poor girls could rest in peace knowing that Justice was finally being served. But how was I going to get Sara Porter to confess? Was she even still in England? Best bet was she still was obsessed with Vallance and found some way to keep an eye on him.

Without bothering to note the time, I knew it was running out on me for the night. I knew if I left now I’d probably not have the chance to get back to this part of the garden as it appeared now and would most likely have to wait until the following night to see this through to its inevitable conclusion.

I realized in my musings that Vallance would most likely know how to get in touch with Sara Porter. Or at least know what happened to her after thirty-plus years. He was my only connection to her in the here and now. And the only way to find that out, would be to leave the garden and take the chance that we could have this resolved before the next night’s visitation. Waiting another year for the start of the annual event was out of the question.

In actuality, I was hoping to, somehow, have Vallance and Sara accompany Storm and myself to the next night’s visitation. Admittedly, this would provide a major shock factor to the both of them, especially when they encountered Jenny’s spirit. My hope would be for Sara to be shocked enough to confess what she’d done, spilling the beans as it were, and bring her to justice. It was something that was thirty years overdue.

The clock began to chime the second hour after midnight. As I watched, the garden slowly faded, and I was left alone on the terrace.

I took a few moments to soak in all I had just witnessed before turning to leave. But when I left the school I happened to glance at my watch. The time was barely ten at night.

And coming toward me on the street were two men. One I knew, Commander Storm. The other was his good friend, Ricky Vallance — Senior Commander Richard Vallance, head of the Public Relations and Support Command, and the public face of the SPJ.

“Gentlemen,” I said as they reached me. “We need to talk.”

“First,” I said to Vallance. “I want to apologize for interrupting your evening, Sir.”

It never hurts to be apologetic in matters such as these. So, the psychologists say anyway. In this case, it seemed prudent to do so with someone who outranked me.

“Did Commander Storm give you any reason why you were asked to be here?”

Commander Vallance was middling in height — about five-foot-nine or so. He had blond hair, fair skin and blue eyes. In school, he probably would’ve been called ‘snowball’. He usually wore a friendly smile.

Not now, however.

“He gave me a cock-and-bull story about seeing Ginevra Marsden, yes.”

Vallance paused for a moment and sized me up.

“I gather you fancy yourself some kind of medium?”

Ignoring the question put to me, I related to the both of them what transpired in the garden not leaving out any details; including my conversations with Jasmine. Most of it was a recap for. The rest of course, was to bring him up to speed. I concluded my narrative with my deductions and my plan for solving the thirty-year-old case.

“Commander Vallance,” I said as I finished. “Do you know what happened to Sara Porter?”

I waited for whatever was about to come next. Chances were Vallance wouldn’t be as well receiving of this type of matter as Storm had been. But then again, he could just as well be swayed by my report and be ready to help in any way he could.

My expectations in relating the night’s events — especially since my plan hinged severely on his support and willingness to provide Porter’s location — was to give him a bit of insight into my world. Perhaps, he’d glean from my tale something that only he would’ve known about Jenny’s last night alive, i.e. the kiss on the forehead.

I was also thinking to myself that Sara Porter did get as close to Vallance as she wanted by becoming Mrs. Richard Vallance.

Right now, however, what happened next would be up to Vallance. I just hoped he’d see things my way with little or no resistance on his part.

“Hmm. Sara Porter. Now there’s a name I haven’t heard in a long time,” Storm replied. “Remember, Ricky? She finally got what she was there for. Her MRS degree.”

“I remember the look she gave me as she marched down the aisle, yes,” Vallance said shuddering. “Turned me into a confirmed bachelor!”

Based on Vallance’s reaction, I gave a mental sigh of relief knowing that he didn’t wind up marrying a suspected murderer.

Her marrying Vallance was a longshot, anyway.

“She married what’s his name,” he continued. “Became the junior MP for South Leicester, as I remember. Then he got some political posting to... to...,” he snapped his fingers. “India!”

“Looks like we’re going to India,” I said. “The sooner we leave the better. Or is there a possibility we can get Porter here? Perhaps, Commander Vallance, you could get her here somehow with an ‘old times’ sake’ excuse. You might be able to see if she still has some of those feelings for you back when you all were at University. Play upon those old feelings and get her here in time for the next visitation. If this all works out we can trick her into a confession and arrest her on the spot.”

“And when is the ‘next visitation’?” Vallance asked suspiciously.

I hid my hope that Vallance was seriously considering my mad plan when he asked me that question. Perhaps, that was all the resistance he’d show.

“Based on what Commander Storm and Jasmine told me and my personal experience, Commander, I’d say we need to be back here no later than 2000 tomorrow night, March 16, the last day of the Ides of March. Otherwise, we’ll miss our window of opportunity and have to figure out some other way to solve this case.”

I hurriedly took a deep breath and continued before Vallance could say anything.

“Begging your pardon Commander,” I said, “But aren’t you just curious to see how this turns out? I’m quite willing to stake my reputation on this and will gladly resign if this turns out to be a wild goose chase. I must let you know ahead of time; I’m willing to disobey any orders to stand down from this investigation. And I will risk a Board of Enquiry to solve this case. I owe it to Commander Storm to proceed as I see fit in this matter. I also owe it to those women Sara Porter murdered.”

It was a gamble at best.

I was playing on Vallance’s sense of Justice and Humanity in persuading him to let me proceed with my plan. I just hoped my outright defiance didn’t cost me my career with the SPJ. And I’m sure my record would be so blackened, if I didn’t pull this off, that even my old job at the Miami-Dade PD wouldn’t be there for me.

I mentally crossed my fingers and held my breath for his response.

“Jasmine — yes. That’s your tame ghost, isn’t it?” Vallance slowly replied. “Tell you what — if you can produce her, here and now, I’ll do what I can to assist you.”

He gave me a very pointed stare.

“If not, you might give some consideration to writing out that resignation.”

“I’ve seen her,” Storm said quietly. “Three times. Twice here, once at my flat.”

I was wondering if Jasmine was nearby to bail me out when I felt a familiar touch on my arm. I looked to one side, but couldn’t see her. For some reason, she wasn’t materializing.

Instead, she was pulling on my arm. Trying to move me away from the others.

So, I stepped quietly away, thinking it was far enough. The tugging on my arm continued until I was half-way down the block.

Now Jasmine materialized. But she was pale. Transparent.

“You must get rid of the one called Ricky,” she said. “I cannot, we cannot, appear in his presence. He has a power that negates ours, and will possibly harm, even kill us.”

“What if you appeared at a distance from him? Would that help in convincing him and still keep you safe from harm? As for the other, that means even if we did manage to bring Sara here, he’d have to stay behind, yes?”

Okay, I was a bit desperate here. I wanted — needed actually —my plan to go through. No matter how ludicrous it sounded.

“It might work, Robert. But he’ll never be able to see the Garden, or speak to Jenny,” Jasmine said sadly. “And if this Sara is now in India, it would explain why you and I have been brought into this.”

By this time, Jasmine faded away.

“Go and explain it to him. You’ll know when I’m ready.”

I returned to the two men, wondering how to explain to one of them that he was a psi-negative.

Finding them engaged in a hot discussion, I, respectfully, waited out of earshot.

Or so I thought.

“You always were a knucklehead, Ricky,” Storm was saying. “I might as well tell you now. If you force his resignation, you’ll have mine right behind it — and neither Anton nor Briony will be happy.”

Vallance grimaced.

“Oh, she’s not active any more — I know that. But Anton is still UNO Liaison for the SPJ. And still in charge of selecting the next Senior Director. And she’ll be a great influence on him.”

Storm shook a finger in the other man’s direction.

“And I know where your ambitions lie,” Storm continued throwing up his hands. “Frankly, I don’t want it — but I’ll support you if you do. If you’ll support me — and Parker — now.”

“Gentlemen,” I said abruptly and loud enough for them to hear.

Once I had their attention again I approached.

“There is a way I might be able to prove to you that Jasmine exists. However, I just realized, within my hobby there are some people in this world who, try as they might, aren’t able see up close that which you, Commander Vallance, seek as proof. I want you to try an experiment with me.”

Both men stared at me.

“Indulge me please,” I said before Vallance could utter a word.

“Pick a spot on this street where you wish to see Jasmine appear. Keep it to yourself for now. When I ask you to, point to the spot.”

Vallance once again started to say something, but I forestalled him with a raised hand.

“If Jasmine doesn’t appear, then I’ll have my resignation papers on your desk first thing in the morning.”

I paused long enough to let that sink in.

“Fair enough?”

Vallance glanced at Storm and then turned to me.

“Well, perhaps I was a little hasty,” he admitted. “Very well, Parker.”

He looked around, then nodded.

“I’ll take your challenge. If I... see your ghost, I’ll give you every cooperation to finish this thing.”

Another glance towards Storm.

“If I don’t...,” he paused. “Have you finished your first year with us yet?”

“No, sir,”

“Very well. If I don’t see your ghost, you’ll be on probation for a second year. Fair?”

I, once again, breathed an inward sigh of relief. At least my career with the SPJ would still be intact regardless of the outcome of the next few minutes.

“Deal,” I said offering my hand to seal the agreement.

Ricky nodded and shook hands.

“What do we do now?” he asked.

I realized, as I we shook hands, that my career with the SPJ would most likely be as good as dead if this failed. I’d already made the choice, however, and was willing to take responsibility for my actions. I wouldn’t have gotten this far in my life had I not always done so.

“Just wait for me to tell you when,” I replied.

I silently prayed to any Deity that would listen for this to work. My career and reputation — and the justice for those murdered girls — was at stake.

The next move was up to Jasmine.

As I watched, he started looking around, frowning.

“Where is that noise coming from?” he asked.

“What noise?” from Storm.

“Over there. By the... by the lamppost.”

Vallance pointed taking a step forward and then stopped abruptly.

“No. No, I didn’t know....”

I watched in silence.

Vallance was seeing something. Whatever it was, only he could see since neither Storm nor I could. And Vallance didn’t like it, but was forced to accept he was seeing. Whatever it happened to be.

Finally, the... whatever it was... was over.

Vallance turned to me, sweat pouring from his brow.

“All right. I’m convinced,” he said, hoarsely. “What do we do now?”

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