LAPSEWOOD STOOD OUTSIDE THE DRURY LANE Theatre watching crowds of people enter through the double doors between the two magnificent pillars. It was so busy that it was impossible to avoid being walked through, but that didn't stop him from trying. He had always had a squeamish disposition and had no desire to see any more of the inner workings of people's heads than was strictly necessary.
"That some kind of new dance you're doing, love?"
He turned to see an attractive woman wearing a blouse that hung precariously off each shoulder, with daringly few buttons done up. She was clearly a ghost, but he had never seen such life in a spirit's eyes.
Lapsewood's inability to speak in the presence of female beauty prevented him from uttering anything but a series of disconnected grunts and stammered half words. Unsure where to look, he held up his hands, giving the impression that he was, quite literally, dazzled by the woman's beauty.
"There something the matter with you?" she asked.
"I'm waiting for a friend," he replied, thankful that he managed to form a complete sentence, even if the remark was utterly incongruous.
She laughed. "You never seen a lady before?"
"Never, er … never quite so much of one," replied Lapsewood.
The woman laughed. "I don't normally get no complaints," she said, holding out her hand. "Nell. Pleased to meet you."
"Lapsewood," he replied, taking her hand and holding it, unsure whether he was supposed to shake or kiss it and compromising by waving it somewhere near his face.
More laughter from the woman.
"I wouldn't go into that theater, if that's what you're planning," said Nell.
"You mean in case it's infected with the Black Rot?" asked Lapsewood in hushed fear.
"No. It's Hamlet tonight, and the lead is one of those slow talkers. I heard this version is running over five hours long." She laughed and slapped him on the arm.
"I must enter. You see, I'm looking for a woman," said Lapsewood, rubbing his arm.
Nell laughed and fluttered her eyelashes flirtatiously. "What a fresh one you are," she said. "If you're after female company, then look no farther than old Nell."
Lapsewood coughed, embarrassed. "I mean to say, a woman by the name of Doris McNally."
"Never heard of her," replied Nell, sounding a little put out. "But you want to be careful which houses you step into these days. The Black Rot is infecting more every day."
"So I've heard. Do you know what could be causing it?"
Nell leaned close to Lapsewood, making him feel uncomfortable and uncertain where to look. "It's a sickness brought on by a ghost leaving its abode. Haunted houses need their ghosts, don't they? And their Residents can't exactly walk out. So it must be someone vanquishing ghosts, I reckon," she whispered.
"Vanquishing?" replied Lapsewood.
"Exorcism."
"Exorcism," scoffed Lapsewood. "Surely that's one of those myths made up by the living."
"Is it, though?" asked Nell.
"I can see you two are getting friendly," said a voice from nearby.
Lapsewood noticed Tanner standing behind Nell, grinning from ear to ear.
"Hello, Tanner," said Nell, pulling away from Lapsewood. "What you doing with all them spirit hounds?"
Tanner was holding five leads, each with the ghost of a dog on the end. In most cases, it was stomach-churningly obvious what had killed them. They all had patchy, mangy coats revealing sore pink skin underneath. Some had been beaten, others run over, run through, or shot.
"Dogs?" exclaimed Lapsewood.
"Yeah. They're sweet." Tanner picked up a three-legged Jack Russell and ruffled its head.
"They're anomalies," said Lapsewood.
"I think most of them are mongrels, actually."
"I mean, they shouldn't exist. Dogs don't have souls. The Bureau doesn't even officially recognize their existence."
"Poor things." Tanner scratched the dog under its chin. "They don't know what to do with themselves without hunger to drive them. I found this lot chasing after living cats, getting confused when the creatures slipped through their paws."
"What use are they to us?" asked Lapsewood.
"Well, as I see it, the problem we have is that you can't see the Black Rot from the outside …"
"You can when it gets real bad," said Nell.
"Yeah, but not always," said Tanner. "So how do we know if a house is safe to enter?"
Nell and Lapsewood looked at him, awaiting the answer.
"The dogs. That's how. A spirit hound will be no more able to escape a building with Black Rot than one of us would."
"That's true," said Nell. "But the spirit of a dog won't quench the appetite of an empty building. A haunted house needs a human spirit."
"That may be," admitted Tanner, "but the point is, if they don't come back, then we'll know it's not safe to go in."
"Is that true?" asked Lapsewood.
Nell laughed. "I can see which one's the boss out of you two."
Lapsewood felt embarrassed but could think of nothing to say to the contrary. "How do we make the dogs go into the buildings?" he asked.
"Like this. Watch." Tanner pulled out a stick tucked into his belt and held it up for a black Labrador to sniff. He then took the dog off the lead and threw the stick straight through the wall of the theater. All the dogs barked wildly trying to get it, but the freed Labrador ran after it and jumped through the wall.
"How do you know he'll come back at all?" asked Lapsewood.
"He'll come back," said Tanner. "These dogs just want caring for."
The Labrador bounded out of the wall, holding the stick in its mouth happily.
Tanner took it and patted the dog. "Good boy," he said, tying it back up. "You see?"
"Smart lad," said Nell affectionately. "Now, old Nell has somewhere she needs to be. I'll see you later, Tanner."
"See you, Nell," said Tanner.
"It was lovely to make your acquaintance, Mr. Lapsewood," said Nell. She leaned toward him and pecked him on the cheek.
Lapsewood stood, stunned, unable to move or speak until a taxicab went past and its wheel hit a puddle, spraying water straight through him.
Tanner laughed. "Come on, Romeo," he said. "We've got work to do."
The last few stragglers were trying to get to their seats before the play began as Lapsewood and Tanner stepped into the theater lobby. Lapsewood gazed up at the columns and statues as he followed Tanner up the stairs, unseen by the theater workers checking tickets.
If the lobby had been impressive, it was nothing compared to the splendor and elegance of the high-ceilinged auditorium itself, with row upon row of expectant people chatting among themselves as they waited for the curtain to rise. In the center, hanging from the ceiling, a gas chandelier gave the whole place a gentle glow that felt almost magical to Lapsewood.
"There's our fella now," said Tanner.
At first Lapsewood didn't see whom he was talking about, but then he noticed the man. He wore clothes more suited to a gentleman living some hundred years earlier, with a rather fussy shirt, yellow tights, a gray coat, and, on top of his head, a three-cornered hat. He was sharing his seat with a heavy, fidgety lady.
Seeing them approach, the Man in Gray stood up. "Greetings," he said, raising his hat and bowing flamboyantly. "Please have a seat, my friends. You're in for a treat tonight. The Tragedy of Hamlet, by our greatest playwright, Mr. William Shakespeare. I have seen many performances over the years, but the talk of the theater is that tonight's lead is something very special indeed."
Tanner rolled his eyes, but Lapsewood pulled out his list and a pen from his top pocket. "Sorry to bother you, sir. I'm here from the Housing Department. I'm looking for Doris McNally."
"Ah, dear Doris, a charming lady. She prefers the comedies, you know," replied the Man in Gray. "I'm afraid I haven't seen her in some time."
"May I take your details?" asked Lapsewood. "For my records."
"Of course. Mr. David Kerby. Born into life 1771, born into death 1806. Known to the living as the Man in Gray, a title that, as you can see, fails to take into account the daring color of my legwear, but one which I have grown accustomed to over the years."
"The living can see you?"
"Occasionally. I have a license for infrequent visibility, up to sixty percent on the Opacity scale, in accordance with the rulings on the haunting of public places."
"What's that mean?" asked Tanner.
"It means he's good for the tourist trade," replied Lapsewood.
"Ah, yes, they flock here, hoping to catch a glimpse of the ghost of the man murdered in this very building," said Mr. Kerby dramatically. "The theater itself has burned down and been rebuilt since then, of course, but as my life was taken down near the very foundation, this glorious theater has remained my home."
"You were murdered?" said Lapsewood.
Mr. Kerby laughed and nodded, then pulled out a dagger and held it aloft. "By this very dagger," he said grandly. "Stabbed in the gut and left to die beneath the stage, then bricked up in these walls. A death of such drama is in keeping with our dramatic surroundings, wouldn't you say?"
"I'm guessing you were an actor yourself, with the way you talk and all," said Tanner.
"An actor?" Mr. Kerby chuckled. "No, young man. In life I was a bookkeeper."
"What were you killed for, then?" asked Tanner.
"Ah, well." Mr. Kerby emitted a small, embarrassed cough. "My fault entirely. You see, the management at the time had some pecuniary complications."
Tanner looked to Lapsewood, who translated, "Money problems."
"Why didn't he just say that, then?" asked Tanner.
"I noticed discrepancies in the books and brought them to light. I went to the then manager, who saw to it that I didn't bring any more to light. Now, hush please; the play is about to start."
The lights on the great chandelier dimmed, and Mr. Kerby turned to the stage. "Do you know the play?" he asked. "It begins with the appearance of a ghost. I've been watching rehearsals, and they've done it rather well in this production. Not too much moaning and wailing. I don't know why they always have us ghosts wailing and moaning. Most of the wailers and moaners I have known have been very much alive."
The fidgety woman leaned forward and said, "Would you please get out of my way? I can't see a thing."
"I am sorry, madam," said Mr. Kerby, stepping to one side. "She doesn't know I'm a ghost," he mouthed to the others, with a mischievous wink.
"Come on. Let's go," said Tanner, tugging Lapsewood's sleeve.
