Poltergeist

It’s been a week since Mike left the chief’s office. His searches came up with a discouragingly small amount of information. He found out that the killer’s victims all killed themselves in the same way, in the same spot, with the same kind of gun. And that the victims were usually in some kind of crisis when it happened, or they were prone to emotional problems and mental illnesses.

It was raining as he walked down the sidewalk, the sky was navy blue. This part of town was always empty and depressing, but the rain just made it worse. He just left one of the crime scenes, a stairwell in a large apartment compound. And he didn’t blame the poor bastard, if he lived here, he’d kill himself too.

The crime scene didn’t give him any useful evidence, 2 more people died in the past week, the chief was growing angrier by the day and Mike was getting desperate. So he did what he always did when he was desperate, or when it was raining, and today both happened to be true: he went into the nearest bar.

The bar was cramped and smelly. Groups of men sat with each other, making a mess and laughing loudly. Some were in the corner of the room playing pool. Only one other guy was sitting quietly at the bar, drinking shots. Mike sat down a couple seats away from him.

“Another loner?” The stranger asked. “Trying to get outta the rain there, cowboy?” He chuckled, his smile stood out, bright and white against his dark skin. His voice was smooth and calming, but there was something about the look in his eyes that made Mike edgy.

“Yup. Also, I needed a drink.” Mike said.

“Let me help you there,” the stranger beckoned to the man behind the bar who was busily cleaning a mug. “Yo, barkeep, give this guy some shots on me.” The bartender nodded and pulled out a glass.

“Whatcha want?”

“Rum." The bartender produced a bottle half filled with amber liquid and poured it in Mike's glass. "And let’s be clear, just because you buy me a drink I don’t owe you any favors.” Mike said as he took his shot.

“I know.”

They sat there for a while, drinking in silence, the little tower of shot glasses building up and up. “Well, I’ll see you around, detective.” The stranger stood up and left the bar, rain sounded against the laughing of the other men and the clunking of glasses on tables. A gust of cold air hit Mike in the face.

It was a moment until Mike realized that he never told that guy he was a detective. His badge was hidden beneath his coat, how did he know? Quickly, he stood up and followed the guy out of the bar. Visibility was low as Mike walked down the flooding sidewalk. He stepped on something smooth and hard. A bullet, there was a trail of them.

Following the trail down the sidewalk, Mike stopped at the mouth of a darkened alleyway. “So, you’re smarter than you look, detective.” The stranger's voice sounded from the gloom, barely audible over the rainfall. Mike spotted him, he was at the end of the alley, leaning against a dumpster.

“You’re the guy then? The ghost?” Mike asked, raising his voice over the rain.

“Yes, I am.”

“Well you’ve got 5 seconds to give yourself up and come with me..”

“Or what? You’ll beat me to death? You’re a very violent man, Mike. In fact, isn’t that why your wife left you? She was afraid of the day that you’d come home, drunk and crazy. She got out of there while she still could.”

“Fuck you, you don’t know a damn thing!” Mike shouted.

“Oh, but I do. I know how hard it is for you to sleep. All because of the nightmares you have about that day.” The stranger's grin still showed despite the darkness. “It’s so sad, you were too late to save them. That poor girl, her whole life was ahead of her, and she had it taken away, all because of you…”

Screaming, Mike whipped out his gun and shot. But he was awestruck when the stranger jumped- and kept jumping. The bullet rang as it hit the dumpster, the other man was now up on the roof. “Come and get me, Mike!” He called.

He knew that he should’ve turned away and ran, any sane man would after seeing what he just saw. But Mike was stubborn, stubborn and angry. He ran to the nearest fire escape and climbed it like a madman.

On the roof, the stranger stood, hands in his pockets and humming. “Who- what are you?” Mike asked, stepping in front of him.

“My name is Anthony, thanks for asking,” the stranger said. “As for what I am, I have no idea.”

“I’ll tell you that, you’re a criminal, and I’m gonna take you down.”

“Are you? You know as much as I do that you aren’t the man you used to be. You’re weak compared to him, weak and cowardly. You don’t deserve a badge to shine ever again. That’s exactly why Tommy won’t give one to you, even if you bring me in.”

“You’re lying.”

“Really? Do you think that he would risk his good name for a washed up, dried out wannabe? I don’t think so. You were played, Mike. You always get played, Paul played you, Tom played you, now I’m the one pulling the strings. You’ll never be a detective ever again.” Anthony said. "At least, not a legal one."

“Well, at least I’ll get a sicko like you off the streets.”

“But I’m the most caring, kind-hearted person in this city. If more people were like me, cops would be unnecessary. I can see into the minds of the people who I decide to help, and those are awful places to be. I’m a philanthropist, just doing community service by helping those in need of help.”

“Shut up, you're making me sick..”

“Now, let me help you, Mike.” All of a sudden, Mike's head was split with a headache. Images and feelings were shoved into his mind all at once, every bad thing he’s ever felt, every bad deed he’s ever done. It hurt so much.

It hurt too much.

Mike fell to his knees on the wet rooftop. His gun clattered to his side. Anthony smiled down on him. “There, there, it’ll all be over soon.” The gun slowly floated up and pressed itself against Mike’s head, cold and wet and comforting. “Grab it…” Mike obliged. “Now, fix whatever’s broken.” His fingers grew taut around the trigger. “Almost there.. Almost there.. Almost there…” They grew tighter, tighter, tighter.

Suddenly, Mike whipped the gun around and a shot rang out. Surprise lit up Anthony’s eyes and the bullet thudded into his stomach. He staggered backwards, glaring at Mike and silenced by the bullet wound. But his face softened, blood dribbled down his lips, now turned up to a grin. "I buy you shots and you give me this?" He choked out, jokingly, before falling over the edge.

Mike hurried to the spot where Anthony fell and looked over, no corpse was waiting on the concrete.

His shaking hands fumbled around in his pocket, found his phone and quickly dialed. A Tired voice answered, “Hello?”

“Paul, we’ve got a problem…”