CHAPTER ELEVENLunch with MelindaWednesday afternoon, Brad stood outside Bias’s door, a bouquet of lilies in one hand while he knocked with the other. This was his first visit to Bias’s apartment; he’d invited Brad over for lunch.While Brad waited, he examined his surroundings. Bias’s apartment was the last one in a row of six, the building long and made of weathered brick set behind a large four-story house on Bull Street. Bias had said that in the pre-Civil War era, these apartments were the slave quarters for the main house, and Brad could easily see that.When the door opened, he held out the flowers and said, “Hey sexy—”, but stopped abruptly when he saw that it wasn’t Bias standing in the doorway.“Don’t you be getting fresh with me, Mr. Literary Genius,” Harold said, reaching out to swat him on the shoulder. “You’re involved with my roommate.”“I’m sorry. I wasn’t expecting you to be here.”“So I gathered,” Harold said, stepping aside. “Come on in.”Brad stepped i

CHAPTER THIRTEENA Night with S.C.A.D.P.I.T.The trio showed up at half-past ten Saturday night. After brief introductions, they got busy setting up their equipment. Brad had to admit that for a handful of college kids, they seemed a rather professional operation. Cane, the group’s leader, seemed serious and older than his years. Topher, Bias’s friend, was a blaze of gregarious charm and inappropriate humor. Kinsey, the lone female of the group, didn’t say much, seeming a bit like a ghost herself.They started by setting up a DVR system with six infrared cameras throughout the house. One in the foyer faced the stairs and down the hall; one in the den; one in the kitchen; one in the basement library; one in the bedroom facing the bay window; one in his office out in the carriage house. They did a walk-through of the house, taking base readings of electromagnetic energy as well as temperature. Once that was done, they set up more equipment. Brad closed Phantom up in one of the sp

CHAPTER FIFTEENDelrays and DeliriumBrad felt like crap. His stomach was queasy, his head ached dully, and a thin film of sweat covered his body. He’d felt lousy for the last several days, but he’d promised Neisha he’d attend this event at Book Lady being held by friends of hers.Two local authors, a married couple named Michael and Tracy Delray, were holding a joint discussion and signing. They sat behind a small table with several of their books on display. Brad and Neisha had talked to them briefly before the event started. They seemed nice and passionate about their work. Michael, with his devilish goatee, was a bit more laid back; Tracy, with her fashionably short hair, possessed a sharp cynical wit. Their two teenaged sons were present, and they seemed uncommonly bright and sophisticated. Brad had bought a book from each of them and gotten them signed before the event started. The perks of being a semi-celebrity.A dozen people gathered for the event, some sitting on a

CHAPTER SEVENTEENPicnic Among the DeadBias spread the blanket next to the Upchurch grave, the one with the tombstone shaped like a baby grand piano, the Wilmington River spread out to his left. He opened the oversized wicker basket and started setting out the Tupperware containers. Harold stood a foot away, watching the whole enterprise with a skeptical expression.“Baby, you know Titty loves a good picnic,” he said, “but I’m not sure that a graveyard is the appropriate locale for such an event.”Neisha lowered herself to one corner of the blanket, sitting on her knees. She removed a carrot stick from a Ziploc baggie and nibbled on it. “Actually, if you look back in history, cemeteries were often used as public parks and gathering places. Families would make a day of it, visiting the final resting place of their ancestors and enjoying the fresh air. They’d have picnics, and the kids would play among the tombstones. That’s why, when the city made this land a public cemetery i

CHAPTER NINETEENArt by the BeachBrad woke up before Bias. The young man lay on his side, dark hair spread on the pillow like an ink stain, snoring softly. Brad watched him for a moment in the scant, early-morning sunlight that filtered through the window, then slowly untangled himself from the sheets and slid out of bed. In just a pair of sweats, he left Bias sleeping and walked down the hall into the kitchen.The house was nice. Two bedrooms, each with their own full bath; large front room with built-in bookshelves and a brick fireplace; kitchen/dining room with stainless steel appliances and a butcher block table in the “shabby chic” style where people paid a lot of money for things made to look old and worn. The house was literally on the beach, the back deck stretching out like a pier, with stairs that led down to the sand only a few feet from where the ocean washed up on shore in gently rolling waves.The clock in the kitchen told him it was not quite seven, and he busi