The Ghost of You

Gerard is pressed up against the edge of the couch listening nervously as Bob Bryar speaks.
Frank wanders around the room anxiously.

" To tell the truth, I don't know how I'm doin' it. In fact, confidentially, nothing' like this never happened to me before. Now, all a sudden, I can't turn it off. "

" I don't understand. Why did he come back? Why is he still here? "

" Cause he's stuck, that's why. He's between worlds. It happens sometimes, when their spirits get out too quick. He thinks he still has stuff to do down here. "

" Come on Bob, please stop rambling. "

" Oh, oh, now he's got an attitude. "

Gerard stares at Bob.

" I do not have an attitude. "

Bob turns to Gerard. " We're having a discussion. " He turns to the sound where Frank is coming from. " Whataya mean, you're not angry? If you weren't angry you wouldn't be raisin' your voice like that."

" Goddamn it, Bob Bryar! "

" Ah ah, that does it. I don't talk to anybody who takes the Lord's name in vain. "
He stands up, as if to leave.

Gerard watches with growing discomfort as Bob seems to be talking to himself.

" Please relax, Bob. "

" You relax. You're the dead one. You want my help, then you apologize. Nobody talks to me like that, understand? "

" Jesus Christ! "

Bob turns back to Gerard " Excuse me. Time for me to go. "

Gerard is confused." I don't believe I'm watching this. "

" Damn it, Bob. All right. I apologize. "

Bob stops, pauses a moment, and walks back to the couch.

Frank, relieved, paces back and forth.

Bob's eyes follow his voice as Gerard watches him curiously.

" Please, Bob, I need you to tell Gerard what I'm saying. You gotta tell him word for word. "

" Monsieur has a message for you. "

" Gerard, you're in danger. "

" You can't tell him like that. And would you stop moving' all over the place? You're makin' me sick. "

Gerard looks at Bob uneasily.

" Say it! "

" He's sayin' you're in danger. "

" Danger?. . . What do you mean? "

" I know the man who killed me. Willie Lopez. I know where he lives. "

" He says he knows the man who killed him, Willie Lopez. He's Puerto Rican. "

Gerard grows pale as he listens. His forehead tightens.

" Write it down. "

" Write it down. " Bob relays to Gerard.

" No! You do it! "

" Now I'm a secretary? " Bob is starting to get pissed but reluctantly takes a card from his pocket and grabs a pencil off the coffee table.

" Write, 321 Prospect Place. Apartment 4D. "

" Hey, Frank, that's my neighborhood." Bob writes it down and gives it to Gerard.

" Gee, he's got my wallet and my key. He was in here. "

" He's got his wallet and key. He was in here. "

" In here!? " Gerard seems to shriek.

" You have to go to the police. The Mugger wasn't acting alone. It was a setup, Gee. I was murdered. "

" He says he was set up, that he was murdered. He wants you to go to the police. "

Gerard shoots up, afraid. Bob stands up, too.

" I'm sorry, Gerard. I don't want nothin' to do with this. " Bob heads for the door as Gerard watches in a daze.

" Where you going, Bob? "

" Don't follow me Frank! I've done all I'm gonna do. " Bob opens the door. " I'm finished. And I ain't comin' back. So don't you come bothering' me again cause it's over. I mean it. This is it. Have a nice life. Have a nice death. I'm going. "

He lets himself out. Frank just stands there as the door slams shut.

*________*

Ray is pacing nervously around the lounge room. He seems very upset. After a moment he approaches Gerard. Frank is behind him. " There's no one on earth who'd like it to be true more than me, but you've got to be rational about this. I understand your desire to hold on to him, but this. . . this is absurd.

" It was real, Ray. He was real. "

" Listen to him, Ray, goddamn it. He needs some support here. " Frank shakes his head.

"Gerard, you're a grown man. How can you believe some fortune teller from Brooklyn. . .? "

" He was in touch with him. "

" I don't believe it, Gerard. Not for a minute. "

" Come on, Toro . Open your mind. "

Ray sits down beside Gerard." Ray, he knew things. "

" What kind of things? "

" I told you, the picture in Reno, the starfish ,. . . damn it, Ray. He said Frank knew who killed him. That he was set up. . . murdered. "

" Oh man. This is getting deranged. We're going off the deep end here. "

" He had a name, an address -- Willie Lopez, 321 Prospect Place. He said he had Frank's wallet. "

Frank smiles.

Ray stands up. His voice begins to rise." This is sick. This is really sick. How can you swallow this crap? Who knows if this guy exists? Maybe he's just setting someone up. "

" That's what I have to find out. "

" Find out? What are you talking about? "

" Frank wants me to go to the police. "

" Frank wants you to go to the police? Molly! Jesus! Are you outta your mind? What are you gonna tell 'em? Some storefront psychic's been getting messages from the dead? Do you know how that sounds? You're talkin' ghosts here, for God's sake. "
Frank notices that Gerard looks suddenly vulnerable.
" I'm sorry. This stuff just really gets to me. "

" You don't believe me. You don't believe any of this, do you? "

" I'm trying to, but. . . Look, if it'll make you sleep any better, I'll check it out, okay? Now why don't you go to bed. Try and get some sleep. "

Gerard looks at Ray, annoyed. He doesn't believe him for a second.

*_______*

Ray, in his red Ford Mustang, is speeding up town. Frank is beside him in the front seat.

*_______*

Ray steps into the lobby of Willie's building.

Frank follows, wide-eyed and dumb founded. He seems both intrigued and astounded by what Ray is doing. When Ray stops to read the apartment number on Willie's mail box. Frank is thrilled.

"Hell yeah, Toro. Way to go! "

Ray climbs the stairs two at a time and approaches Willie's door. He bangs on it, loudly.

*________*

Willie opens his door and peers out. Ray is there, pushsing Willie's door hard and opens. Willie steps back.

" Ray, what're you doin' here? "

Frank freezes as Willie addresses Ray by name. He can barely move.

" Who have you been fucking talking to? "

" Talking to? What the hell do you mean? What's going on? "

" Some 'palm reader' knows all about you. The murder, everything. Where's he getting it from, huh? "

" What the hell are you talking about? I haven't said a word. "

Frank is staggered. His body is shaking.

" He knows your name, goddamn it! He knows where you live! "

" A lot of women know where I live. "

Ray is fuming. " This isn't a joke, man. I's a fucking man! You find that cunt, whoever he is, and. . .get rid of him, you hear me? I've got four million dollars stuck in that fucking computer. If I don't get those codes, if that money's not transferred soon, I'm dead. If I lose Balistrari's money, we're both dead. "

" Tell him you only wash dirty money on the first of the month. "

" What is wrong with you? Is everything a joke? You were supposed to steal his wallet. You weren't supposed to kill him. Was that a joke? "

" I did you a favor. A freebee. "

" Jesus! You fucking drug dealers, man. Don't blow this for me, Willie. I've risked my job here. I could go to jail. A hundred thousand of that money goes to me. Now give me Frank's key. I'll get that address book myself. "

Willie goes to the desk drawer and takes out Frank's key.

Frank, unable to control himself, explodes in a fit of rage. Hauling back, he slugs Ray with all his might. His fist has no impact." You killed me, Ray! You had me killed. Look what you've done to me! Look what you've done!

*_________*

Ray is on the street heading back to his car. Frank is beside him, yelling right into his face. He is screaming and cursing at the top of his lungs but Ray doesn't hear him." You fucker! You mother fucker! I had a life, Goddamn you. I had a life! "

Frank tries to smash into Ray. It is like hitting the air. For all of his rage and bluster, there is
nothing he can do.