The Reluctant Shaman and Other Fantastic Tales

Kalesky spent the next two days examining Rigoulot's house and grounds. He had once conducted an expose against mediums, so knew what to look for. But not a sign of a concealed loudspeaker or projector did he find. He also looked up Rigoulot. But the little tenant had a prosaic enough background. Born in South Carolina, he had worked as a draftsman in the city for twenty years.

By now Kalesky had an open mind on the subject of the ghost of the late Melvin Pye. He got the date of the man's murder from Mrs. Small. The newspapers of that week in the public library gave some details about Pye, and the Police Department furnished Kalesky with more information. The killing had not been solved but was apparently the work of a burglar who had been surprised. Pye at that time was the treasurer of a small cafeteria chain.

Kalesky looked up the chain's offices. Most of the personnel had changed since Pye's time, but the present head of the chain had been a vice-president when Pye had worked there and remembered him.

"Yeah, he was smart as a whip," the president explained. "But I don't think he'd have gotten much further, He had a funny personality—sort of cringing. And he was so good it hurt. He didn't smoke, drink, swear, or anything. He was a good treasurer, though—careful and conscientious."

This picture of Pye did not convey an idea much like the ghost, unless the Pye character had deteriorated vastly since death. Kalesky reported to Conroy on his work.

"That's all very well," said Conroy testily. "But it doesn't get rid of the spook. Number Ten-Nine-Fifteen is vacant now."

"That little Southern guy leave?"

"Yes. He lost his job, he said, because he was too nervous to draw. Blamed me for it. He said he was moving in on some kinfolk."

"Whatcha going to do with the house?"

"I'm moving into it myself. I've been living in one of the apartments in my apartment house, but I'd have a better chance of renting the apartment than a haunted house."

"You got nerve."

"Matter of dollars, Kalesky. But what are you going to do?"

Thoughtfully, Kalesky rubbed his jowl.

"I dunno yet. How about my moving in with you? It would cut the expense account."

The first evening, a handsome woman, still young enough to be called a girl, rang the doorbell. When Kalesky opened it, she jumped back with a little shriek.

"Wazzamatta?" said Kalesky.

"Oh, I thought you were the ghost." She identified herself as Conroy's Miss Winston, who had come over to cook dinner for them.

Kalesky returned to his cigar and sporting page. In the kitchen he overheard Miss Winston talking.

"But George," she said, "what was I to think when the door opened and a hairy gorilla confronted me." Kalesky, who fortunately was not vain, grinned.

Miss Winston stayed to see the ghost hunt. There was not much to see. When midnight approached, Kalesky got out a camera with a photoflash attachment and put out the lights.

The argument began as usual. When the apparition popped into sight, faintly luminescent, Kalesky snapped the camera.

"Oh-oh!" said the ghost. "Getting my picture took. The real, original, authentic ghost of Melvin Pye. Beware of imitations. Hope you're having fun, flatfoot." By the time the watchers' eyes had recovered from the flash, the apparition had vanished, and the argument with the invisible interlocutor had subsided to a mumble.

Kalesky developed and printed the picture himself. It showed the living room, and in the living room the wraith, with the bookcase showing clearly through him.

"Okay," snapped Conroy. "You've proved that this house is haunted by the ghost of Melvin Pye. I knew that already. I want to get rid of the danged thing."

"I'm just a detective, not an ex—what are those guys that cast out devils?" said Kalesky.

"Exorcists?"

"Yeah. I'm not an exorcist. What do you expect me to do, say 'Boo!' to—say!"

When the ghost showed up that night, the closet door swung open, and a sheeted figure marched out. It stretched a bare arm toward the apparition.

"Oooooh!" it groaned.

"Yeow!" yelled the ghost. "I got 'em!" And he vanished.

But he instantly reappeared in another part of the room; or at least the new arrival looked like the other. "I must apologize, my dear sirs, for my double's abominable behavior," the second apparition said. "I shall take steps at the next guild meeting to have him cited for unbecoming conduct."

"Huh?" said Kalesky and Conroy together.

"I see you don't understand. I'm really the ghost of Melvin Pye. The other creature is a bogus imitation. You frightened him away so suddenly that his ectoplasm was transferred to me. Oh, dear, I do hope he doesn't go haunt the distillery again!" With which the second ghost faded out of sight.

"Hey, come back!" Kalesky called. But to no avail.

"Now what?" the detective asked Conroy.

Conroy groaned.

"We seem to have two ghosts. But the main thing still is to get rid of them. We could hire an exorcist, couldn't we?"