"No Darby, you need iron to fight off a ghost. Do you know where her bones are buried…oh, cremated? Then try to find something she used to own and burn that. Ok, yeah, call me if you need anything else."
Garth hung up and let out a sigh. "Damn idjits." He was relaxing in a fairly decent hotel, sipping on a Pepsi. He'd been stationed in Alma, IL for about a week now, waiting for his own case or someone else that needed help with theirs. He had taken over nearly all the responsibilities of being whatever Bobby had been. There wasn't really a name for him, father perhaps? Whatever Bobby used to be, Garth has taken over and put his own twist on it.
He got another call, this time from Jeni Palters. There was a case in the same state as him for once, near Springfield, only a couple of hours away, in a village named Chatham. An unusual amount of deaths had cropped up and Jeni had no clue what to do.
He packed up his Ranchero and drove off with a smile on his face, tapping on his steering wheel to an upbeat song. About an hour and a half later he arrived on what he believed was Main Street. He was kind of starving so he pulled into a parking space in front of what he though was a Mexican restaurant called Fat Willy's. It was actually a bar and grill famous for their horseshoes. He ordered one but was quickly distracted by the different arcade games they had. The waitress found him shooting buck and shouting every time he got one.
When he got back to his seat his food was lukewarm, he still ate it happily though. When he finished he got up to leave, he thanked his waitress for the delicious meal and walked out. He pulled out his phone and called Jeni. "Hey Jeni, where are you? I would like to write down whatever you know before I start my investigation. Call me back as soon as you get this."