Spirited Christmas: A Jonathan Shade Holiday Story Read online

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Dedication

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  One-Way Ticket to Midnight

  About the Author

  SPIRITED CHRISTMAS

  A Jonathan Shade Holiday Story

  by Gary Jonas

  This one is for Jeff, who has to read it in spirit.

  CHAPTER ONE

  From the files of Jonathan Shade - December 2009

  Esther hovered outside my office door staring down at a little girl in a blue coat. The girl sat with her back against the wall, her hands encased in red cloth mittens with holes in the thumbs.

  “Jonathan!” Esther said when she saw me. She wore her standard flapper dress, and had her hair bobbed short. “This little Sheba has been all balled up here for the past hour.”

  I approached the girl. “Hi,” I said. “Are you lost?”

  She looked up at me and wiped her nose with one of those mittens. Snow melted on the floor around her boots. “Are you Mr. Shade?” she asked. She couldn’t have been more than ten years old.

  “That’s the word on the street,” I said. “Where are your parents?”

  “They don’t know I’m here. I’m supposed to be with Aunt Dana.”

  “Does Aunt Dana know you’re here?”

  “She’s passed out in front of the TV. Are you a real live private investigator?”

  I rubbed my hands together. “At the moment, I’m a really cold private investigator, and you look mighty cold yourself. Want some hot chocolate?”

  She nodded.

  Esther floated through the wall while I unlocked the office door. “No school today?” I asked.

  “We’re on Christmas break.” The little girl pushed herself to her feet and followed me into the office, stared right at Esther for a moment then looked around the room.

  There was no way she could have seen Esther, unless she’d had a brush with death. She didn’t look at her again, so I walked over to the cabinet, hoping I still had packets of instant hot chocolate. Success. I had a small stove and a sink, so I grabbed my coffee pot, rinsed it out, and filled it with water. I cranked the stove on high and set the pot of water on the burner.

  “What’s your name?” I asked.

  “Madison Franklin. I’m here to hire you.”

  “We’ll get to that,” I said.

  “I want to hire you and your ghost.”

  Esther shot over to stare at Madison. “You can see me?”

  “Of course,” Madison said.

  “So you really were looking at her,” I said. “Most people can’t see her.”

  “I died when I was a baby, but I came back to life. Mom says that makes me special. Did you die too? Is that why you can see ghosts?”

  “As a matter of fact, I did,” I said. “Should I know your family? Are you part of the … community?”

  “Mom is a bank teller. Dad works at the post office.”

  “Can they see ghosts?”

  She shook her head and ran her fingers over the keys of Esther’s ancient, beat-up Underwood typewriter. I usually kept it on the filing cabinet, but it currently sat on top of a small bookshelf because I’d placed it there last week after taking Esther with me on a stakeout.

  I grabbed a couple of coffee mugs, shook a packet of hot chocolate into each of them. The aroma of powdered cocoa drifted up, but dissipated before I could really enjoy it. “What about your aunt?” I asked as I searched for a clean spoon.

  “My aunt is a witch, only when she thinks I’m not around, my mom changes the W to a B. She can’t see ghosts, though.”

  “So her real power is upsetting your mother.”

  “She says it’s her sisterly duty.”

  “Well, there you go,” I said. The water finally heated up enough, so I filled the cups, stirred them, and handed one to Madison.

  “Thank you,” she said and blew on the drink to try and cool it.

  I turned off the stove and sipped my hot chocolate. I appreciated warmth and flavor of the chocolatey goodness, but I would have preferred coffee. I gestured toward my desk. A leather chair stood in front of it, and my high back chair, also leather, sat behind it. “Have a seat.”

  Madison climbed into the chair.

  I leaned against the desk. “I think I should call your aunt or your mom so they won’t worry about you.”

  “Not yet, Mr. Shade. I need to hire you first.”

  “Whatever for?”

  “Our house is haunted.”

  “Do tell.”

  “Every year at Christmas, a ghost comes and tries to grab me all the time.”

  “You have a Christmas spirit?”

  She nodded. “I see it sometimes in the garage, but it mostly shows up at Christmas time. We set up the tree last night, and as soon as we unpacked the ornaments, it tried to tackle me again.”

  “Can you describe it?”

  “It’s a man. He always says he’s sorry and tries to grab me.”

  “Is it normal for you to put up the tree this late?” It was the 23rd of December.

  “Mom waits longer every year.”

  “Does she see the ghost too?”

  “No. She thinks it’s all in my head.”

  I sipped my hot chocolate, and let the warmth of the cup seep into my hands. “I see.”

  “Well, until last night when the ghost possessed my dad.”

  “Say what?”

  “The ghost jumped into my dad and flailed around. He tried to grab me, but I ran into my bedroom. The ghost flew through the door, but my dad ran into it and broke his nose.”

  “Possession takes a lot of focus. Was anyone else there?”

  “Mom was. She freaked out. Thought Dad was trying to hurt me.”

  “Okay, we’ll get back to all that. How did you hear about me?”

  “Emily at school said she heard you on a radio show talking about ghosts.”

  “Oh, yeah, that.” I ran an ad on a local radio show a couple months ago when I found out they were interviewing Lorraine Warren, the famous ghost hunter. I thought the commercial might drum up business, and it did, but the interview focused more on that Annabelle doll that creeped everyone out, myself included. “Well, maybe.”

  “I can pay you,” Madison said. She dug in her pocket and dumped a handful of coins on my desk. A penny rolled away from the rest of the change, bounced against my hip and fell over.

  “I think your mom or dad should hire me.”

  “Oh, please, Mr. Shade. This is all the money I have in the world. You can have it all! Just get rid of the ghost so we can enjoy Christmas for a change!”

  Esther glared at me from behind Madison. She shook her finger at me. “Don’t you dare turn this little girl down, Jonathan. It’s Christmas!”

  It was a couple days until Christmas, but I knew better than to argue semantics with a ghost. I took a deep breath then placed my index finger on a shiny quarter and moved it across the desk so it rested by my computer. “As it happens, I’m running a Christmas special,” I said. “I’ll accept twenty-five cents as a retainer, and if there’s nothing I can do for you, I’ll give you a full refund. How does that sound?”

  Madison smiled. “Awesome!”

  Esther grinned and nodded. “Now you’re on the trolley.”

  “Can you start right a
way?” Madison asked. “We have family coming in on Christmas morning. I don’t want to have to deal with the ghost and my uncles.”

  “You bet. I just need to grab a few things before we go.” I rummaged through my desk drawer until I found a lighter. A quick flick to make sure it lit up, and I stuffed it into my pants pocket. I grabbed some salt out of a cabinet and stuffed it into my coat pocket, along with a black Sharpie and a small notepad.

  When I opened the door to leave, Esther whipped in front of me. “Take me with you,” she said. “I’ve been cooped up in here for days!”

  “All right,” I said. “Madison, can you carry the typewriter?”

  “Why?”

  “So Esther can come along. She’s bound to the machine and can’t go more than fifteen feet from it.”

  “Like a security blanket?”

  “Something like that.”

  “Okay, and call me Maddy.”

  She carried the typewriter. I took one last look at the office, then closed and locked the door. I had twenty-five cents to earn, so I needed to get busy.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Kelly called me as I unlocked my Firebird. I got Madison safely into the car before I answered.

  “Joe’s Morgue,” I said. “You stab ‘em, we slab ‘em.”

  “Are you ever going to grow up?” Kelly asked.

  “I sure hope not, but I’m going to have to call you back. I’m with a client.”

  “A paying client?”

  “Yes,” I said. She didn’t need to know my going rate today.

  “I’ll make this quick. I just need to know—”

  “I’ll call you in five,” I said and disconnected.

  The snow and cold cut into me as I moved around the car to get in the driver’s side. Two days ago, it was damn near sixty degrees. Today it was in the twenties. There ought to be a law against that.

  I settled into the driver’s seat, thankful all I had to do was hit the windshield wipers to clear the snow. The car was still reasonably warm. I started the engine and got the heater going then turned to Madison. “What’s your mother’s number?”

  “Why?”

  “So I can call to let her know you’re all right and that I’m taking you home.”

  “But you promised to work the case!”

  “And I will. But I need to let your mother know where you are and that you’re safe. I should probably call your aunt, too.”

  She folded her arms and stared out the window at the falling snow.

  “Silly little bird,” Esther said, “Jonathan needs to clue them in that everything is on the up and up.”

  Madison sighed. “Mom and Dad are at work. Aunt Dana is probably still snoring away in her easy chair. They haven’t missed me yet.”

  “How do you know?”

  She held up a cellphone. “Because they haven’t called or texted.”

  “Can you at least call your aunt to let her know you’re safe?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Whatever.” She placed the call and stared at the ice and snow gathering on the T-tops. “Hey, Aunt Dana. Some guy kidnapped me and is demanding ransom. Here, you can talk to him.”

  She tossed the phone in my lap.

  I lifted the phone to my ear.

  “—are you talking about?” a tired woman’s voice said.

  “Hello, Dana,” I said. “I’m a detective, and I just wanted to let you know Maddy is safe.”

  “What’s this about a ransom?”

  “Your niece is quite the prankster. I’ll have her home soon.”

  I hung up and handed the phone back. Madison gave me a smug smile as she tucked the flip phone into her pocket.

  The roads were getting slick, and while you’d think Colorado drivers would know how to drive in the snow, you would be wrong. Too many transplants from California and Texas. It didn’t help that I drove a Firebird. Sports cars rock on dry roads, but they weren’t built for snow, so the car fishtailed a bit as I pulled into traffic. Nothing I couldn’t handle, but I made a note to slow down since I had a kid in the car.

  “Where do you live?” I asked.

  “Aurora.”

  My office was on Broadway, tucked in among some antique stores. It was a good twenty minute drive in good weather to get to Aurora. “How did you get out here?”

  “Bus.”

  “And if I’d chosen to take the day off?”

  “I guess I’d be sitting in your hallway for a few more hours before catching a bus back home.”

  “And the bus driver didn’t question you being alone?”

  “Nope. I got on with an old lady.”

  “And she didn’t question you?”

  “Nope. But if she did, I’d just say I was twelve.”

  “How old are you?”

  “Twelve.”

  I gave her my patented bullshit look.

  “Well, I can pass for twelve,” she said.

  I kept the look going.

  “Watch the road,” Esther said.

  “How old are you really?” I asked.

  “Well, I’m gonna be twelve soon.”

  “How soon?”

  “A year and a half.”

  I shook my head. “You couldn’t just say ten?”

  “That number is not part of my vocabulary. I can prove it. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, eleven, twelve…”

  “Very funny.”

  “Don’t forget to tip your waitress.”

  ***

  Forty minutes later, I pulled up in front of Madison’s house. She lived in a tri-level brick home with ugly green siding. The driveway was covered with snow. I parked in front of the house instead because I knew what a pain it was to shovel a drive when cars have driven on it. The snow gets packed down and you have to slam the shovel against the tire tracks to break them up. Every winter, I asked myself why the hell I lived in Colorado.

  “Anyone home?” I asked.

  “Nope.”

  “Any pets? Dogs, cats?”

  “We have two cats. One is a black cat, the other is a white Persian.”

  “So no matter what pants you wear, the fur will show up.”

  “The black cat is named October. The white cat is Snowball.”

  “Did you name them?”

  She shook her head. “Dad named them. I wanted to go with Ariel and Sebastian.”

  “All right. Give me the key. I’ll go take a look. See if I can spot the ghost.”

  “I want to come with you.”

  “Me too,” Esther said.

  “You’re both going to hang here in the car while I check things out. No arguments.”

  Madison gave me the key. I left the car running so she’d have heat, and I stepped out into the cold. The wind blew snow into my face. I pulled my jacket tighter and trudged across the snowy lawn to the front door. After unlocking the door, I kicked the side of the porch to knock off as much snow as I could, then stepped inside.

  The house was darker than I expected, but some light spilled in through the sliding glass door at the back and the living room window at the front. The living room stood off to the right, while to the left a staircase rose to the second level above the two car garage. I moved through the living room. The furniture looked like a mix of hand-me-downs and thrift store specials. None of it matched. The paintings on the wall showed landscapes of the sort you’d find at a starving artist sale. Five dollars each including the frame, and you’d want to ditch the painting to sell the frame for ten bucks. The Christmas tree wasn’t plugged in. Colorful ornaments hung from the plastic branches. Presents circled the bottom of the tree and stray silver icicles lay across some of them. A few ornaments sat on the floor under the coffee table.

  Cats.

  The sofa had claw marks on the front, and a pristine scratching post stood next to it.

  “Hello?” I said.

  The house felt empty, but I heard a thud upstairs.

  I moved back to the stairs and glanced up.

  The Persi
an cat sat at the top of the stairs. It glared at me, turned its nose up in the air and walked off. The black cat refused to put in an appearance.

  I took a quick walk through the living room to the dining room where a glass table stood. It needed cleaned. A buffet cabinet lined the far wall. The top was covered with dishes of candy and nuts. A nutcracker guarded a green glass Christmas tree filled with three types of cookies. A pile of mail covered the far end of the buffet. A stack of boxes leaned against the wall. I peeked inside to see wadded up newspaper, and a small pink blanket. More of those silver icicles littered the box. It was labeled: Christmas ornaments in thick black magic marker.

  The kitchen was one of those galley types with a stove and microwave on one side, and the sink and dishwasher on the other. Dirty plates filled the sink, and the burners held used pots. It smelled like someone had cooked curry.

  The family room held another sofa and several chairs. An acoustic guitar leaned against the fireplace, and Christmas stockings hung from the mantle. A nativity scene spread out on top of the mantle, and a wire mesh screen splayed out on either side to keep the cats from jumping up and playing, Let’s See if Baby Jesus Can Survive the Fall.

  The laundry room was next to the garage door. I checked the garage. Empty. Two overflowing plastic trash cans stood on a raised concrete step with a lawn mower and a few stacks of moving boxes. Rakes, hoes, shovels, and other tools hung from spikes on the wall. An extra refrigerator was tucked against the wall, and from the dent in the door, I suspected someone had trouble discerning the length of their car.

  Spider webs crisscrossed the rafters.

  Plenty of Christmas spirit, but what the house did not have, at least downstairs, was a ghost.

  So I moved around and trotted upstairs to the bedrooms.

  One bedroom had Disney movie posters on the walls. The Little Mermaid, The Lion King, Hannah Montana, and Finding Nemo.

  “I found Nemo, but not the ghost,” I said aloud, hoping that if the ghost was around, he would show himself.

  I poked my head into the next bedroom, which had been converted into a sewing room.

  “I ain’t afraid of no ghost,” I said.

  If the ghost was there, he didn’t laugh.

  The bathroom needed cleaned. I needed to take a leak, but I didn’t want to touch the lid, so I used my foot to raise it. Fortunately, Slimer did not jump out of the toilet at me. After I took care of business, I checked the shower. A collection of naked dolls sat on the edge of the tub. Bottles of shampoo and bubble bath fought for space with scrubbing sponges and a naked Ken doll. He was not anatomically correct.