The Case of Kinnegal's Banshee
Disclaimer: I do not own The A Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A Team.
Chapter 10 Am I Crazy? Am I Not?
B. A. did not know exactly what he was looking for when he returned to the cellar. He understood one thing: there was no such thing as ghosts or banshees. Once the supernatural was ruled out, the natural cause for the wail he and Murdock heard had to be visible to the eye.
A cursory investigation by both of them had revealed no traces of animal activity but that didn't mean there wasn't any. The Sergeant began his exploration by training the flashlight beam in a corner and following the juncture of floor and wall around the room. Halfway around he found the first signs of mouse droppings.
A mouse would not make a wailing sound but he knew it had to get in somehow through a hole in the wall. He methodically scanned the walls for a fissure or opening a rodent could squeeze through. After about twenty minutes, he found two dime-sized holes and one four inch long and quarter inch wide crack in the mortar holding the stonework together. Located about a foot from the ceiling, the openings were several feet from one another and partially hidden from view by the shelves along the wall.
Peering into each of the two holes, he noted one did not go all the way through the wall to the outside. Both of the openings seemed to be hand-drilled. The crack in the mortar appeared to come from a natural settling of the building's foundation. He brushed the accumulated crumbled mortar from the crack with his fingers and frowned when a key fell to the floor. Picking it up, he pocketed it.
B. A. cast the beam of the flashlight along the underside of each of the shelves. He discovered a small manila envelope taped to a lower shelf. He placed the envelope in the pocket of his bib overalls with the key. Puzzled over what he found, B. A. shut off the light and returned to the bar room.
Murdock was cleaning the floor and trying to ignore Face and Keelin. They were tidying things behind the bar and, judging from the animated talk and laughter, having fun with each other while doing it.
When the Sergeant brought the flashlight back to the young woman, the pilot slowed and finally stopped sweeping. He stared at B. A., hesitated, then asked in a low voice, "Did you find anything?"
"Don' know if it means anythin' yet. Gotta look at somethin' outside." The black man donned his fleece-lined jacket and walked to the door.
"Want me to come with you?" Murdock set the broom aside and snapped the front of his bomber jacket closed. He didn't wait for an answer but followed B. A. out the door and to the side of the pub.
"Thought so," B. A. muttered. He bent at the knees and pulled a coated wire from a hole about three inches from ground level. With it came a small electronic device. "Think this's your banshee."
Murdock nodded, his thoughts churning. When he glanced at B. A., he frowned. "This explains the wailing sound but what 'bout the white mist people see?"
"What you 'n' Keelin thought you saw? People's imaginations gettin' 'way from them," B. A. grunted. He placed the electronic device in his pocket with his other finds. "Gotta be a reason for it. There ain't no ghosts."
Murdock stared at the ground, his head bowed, his gloved hands stuffed in his jacket pockets. When the Sergeant moved past him, he remained there deep in thought.
"You comin', fool? Or you gonna stand out here 'n' freeze yourself?" When the pilot didn't respond, B. A. gripped him by his elbows and shook him.
"Imagination." Murdock exhaled, his breath a frosty cloud in the nippy evening air. "Huh." He forced his feet to move as they went back inside.
Keeping to himself, Murdock swept the floor, turned the chairs and benches upside down atop the tables and mechanically did the other things assigned to him as part of the closing routine. He was uncharacteristically quiet and smiled halfheartedly whenever Keelin giggled at one of Face's teasing comments.
B. A. glanced at the pilot a few times. Something was bothering Murdock. Whether it was the escalating intimacy between Face and the bartender, the homesickness he had expressed earlier or a more serious thing related to his mental state, the black man didn't know. He wouldn't admit it, but he was genuinely worried this Chicago vacation turned mission was making Murdock come unglued.
"Okay, guys, time to lock up." Keelin grabbed her coat and headed for the door. Face hurried to her side and offered his arm. She tucked one hand in the crook of his elbow and smiled up at him.
B. A. and Murdock excused themselves and squeezed past them out to the sidewalk.
The pilot scuffed his way toward the van. His gloved hands were in his pants pockets and his eyes were downcast.
B. A. trailed after him, wanting to reach a hand out to him but unsure what he would say if he did. "Hey, man, wait up." Murdock heard but kept moving and did not acknowledge the request. He quietly waited for B. A. to unlock the van, then climbed in the rear passenger seat and shut the door.
When the burly driver got in, he glanced in the rearview mirror. The pilot was staring straight ahead at the back of B. A.'s seat, his hands gripping the arm rests so hard he had white knuckles. His eyes had a haunted look to them as he took a deep breath and looked at B. A.'s reflection in the rearview mirror. "I shouldn't have come to Chicago. I shoulda stayed home where I belong, in the mental ward."
"Murdock, man, I didn't mean you thinkin' you saw that white mist meant you was crazy."
The soft bitter laugh from the back seat made B. A. flinch. "You're always telling me I am. So what is it? Am I crazy? Am I not? Did I see it? Did I not?"
B. A. watched as Face escorted Keelin to her car and stood for several minutes in an embrace that ended in a long kiss. He wished the conman were here to say the right things that would lift Murdock from this depressed mood. Psychiatric counseling was not B. A.'s line of expertise. It wasn't Face's either but the pilot and he were so close, he seemed to know instinctively what was going on in the Captain's mind.
"Well?" Murdock demanded.
All B. A. could repeat was "Ain't no such thing as ghosts."