He had retired from the police force several years ago but some things were hard to change, like an instinctive reaction to the sound of gunshots and screams. But this was Halloween, a night when mischief-makers and party-goers were on the prowl. It was probably fireworks… and if it was a REAL gunshot, the police would deal with it. “Not my problem anymore,” he said to himself and picked up the book he was reading.
Just over an hour later, he heard the front door open and his former partner, Detective Bruce Parkins, walked in and sat down.
“Going to work or going home?” Harry asked.
“Home,” Bruce said as he sank down into the armchair opposite Harry. “Tough night.”
Harry got up, poured a shot of brandy, and handed it to him. “Relax,” he said. “Or talk if that’s what you want.”
Bruce took a sip of brandy and sighed. “Did you hear the Ghost Shots earlier tonight?”
“I did,” Harry replied, “but after the first couple minutes I ignored them.”
“A lot of people did,” Bruce said. “But, unlike that first time you heard them, tonight they were real.”
“Real?” Harry echoed. “Are you serious?”
Bruce nodded. “Some teenagers apparently heard the Henderson story, read up on it, and decided to re-enact it, using an old cap gun. Halfway through the sequence, the gun exploded. The kid with the gun got a few serious burns but all of them were scared out of their wits.”
“They’ll get a lecture and a warning from the Chief, I’m sure, for all the good it will do. Where did they get the gun?”
“Don’t know yet. The kid who fired the shot is in hospital, completely traumatized and sedated. They’ll try bringing him around later today.”
“What about the rest? Don’t they know anything?” Harry asked.
“They’re not talking… terrified, and probably not willing to snitch on a friend. Maybe it will be different tomorrow, after we question the guy who’s in the hospital.”
Harry shook his head. “It amazes me how easy kids are able get firearms these days.”
“I know.” Bruce nodded. “But… on a different note… some people are saying a ghost caused the gun to explode. They think the ghost of the kids’ mother came back to protect them because she was unable to do anything the first time.”
“I seriously doubt that,” Harry said.
“I’m not so sure,” Bruce said. “She was obsessed with their death right up until she died. Whatever it was, these kids got a real scare. They’re all vowing never to go near another gun of any kind for the rest of their lives.”
“In that case, whether the ghost was real or imagined, we should thank him… or her…”
“Amen to that,” Bruce mumbled. He drained his glass and got to his feet. “See you around.”
Harry held up his hand and watched him go. If those kids had learned something from their experience, he didn’t particularly care if the force behind it was human or ghost – he only cared if it worked.
