Morselling/Howlynn/Chapter2

The shower was hot and the quick release of tension and frustration he'd also partaken in led to a fast nap. He awoke twisted in his sheets, starkers and with a slightly transparent observer.

"What is this? Gregorian Chant…Madrigal of Hope…something called Tuvan throat singing? What the devil is Jazz fusion? Pray tell, what have they fused it with? Hopefully not the Guano music? For God's sake man, this stuff will rot your brain!" Morse complained.

Hathaway sat up sighed deeply, before yawning and letting frustration leak into his tone, "Just popping in for a quick music critique, Sir? And its Gnawa music, not guano, actually."

"Is this what young people are into now? What happened to Radiohead and that Coldplay. That was great compared to this."

"I doubt anyone else would care for my collection any more than you. Sir. Though for different reasons. Lewis still has your Wagner, in case you wonder. He forces it on me as punishment when I have annoyed him." Hathaway tilted his head and said no more, waiting for the ghost to explain what he wanted.

Morse smiled wide and amused. There was a cocky edge to his crinkled eyes. "And you play this? Christ, you're a merciless sod, aren't you? "

Hathaway snickered even though he tried not to, "I have been advised of such, Sir."

"Hell is full of musical amateurs. George Bernard Shaw," Morse said tossing the plastic cases with disdain.

James thought for a moment and slowly recalled the words he sought. "I am fond of them, of the inferior beings of the abyss, of those who are full of longing."

Morse looked at him in pure delight, "I suppose a man who can at least quote Wagner, must not be a complete heathen."

James watched the ghost silently. Morse seemed to be in no hurry to speak, he appeared especially interested in the mobile phone he'd picked up off the nightstand. James looked at his watch, and winced. "No offence, but I need that when you find a spot to break your studies of my personals."

Morse looked up. "Oh. Of course. Figured you'd ask by now," He replied, handing the phone back.

James checked in, gave several detailed instructions and resisted the urge to jump up and hurry back to work. "Still here?"

"Do you know anything about The Devil's Disciple case, John Peter Barrie? Look it up and become familiar with it."

Hathaway nodded and then blinked as the figure was simply no longer there. "Yep. Taking sleeping pills tonight," He vows as he gets up and begins dressing.

He sent Lizzy a text, asking her to look up the name in the database and by the time he returned to the office there was a stack of pertinent files awaiting him. He examined the material in disbelief that they actually existed. He tried to remember any point in which he'd heard this name, but nothing rang a bell.

To say he was calm at the discovery that his sub-conscious had somehow delivered information that he had encountered at no prior time, would have been stretching his self-deception. His stomach was not impressed that his mind kept asking fearfully if he had missed any obvious signs of a brain tumor.

He had no idea what he was supposed to discover because the suspect had been both convicted and killed after escaping from the mental facility he'd been remanded to for life. The file was all in order and seemed like a dead end. He'd been very creative in his use of disguise and evasion, but the man was dead. To what purpose was he led to this old case?

He paused for a smoke break. Maddox looked up at him and commented, "Were those the files you were looking for, Sir?"

"I honestly don't know. Just curious. I will let you know when I figure out why they were brought to my attention," James said as he searched for his fags, distracted that they were not in his coat.

Maddox looked pointedly at his waste bin.

James followed her gaze and grumbled, "Oh, yes. Of course." There were his cigarettes peeking up through the day's rubbish.

"Himself," Lizzy said with a shake of her head. "He worries about you," she added with a shrug as if to defend Robbie's actions.

"Well, that justifies six quid in the bin to make his point."

"Maybe you should listen? Sir?"

"Don't do that. Call me, Sir when you mean …" Hathaway trailed off with a smirk. "Forget it. Subtlety is the key to that, Sergeant. Trust me."

"I will take that under advisement, Sir." Lizzy replied with a blush.

"It is half-three. Were you not meant to pick up—"

"Oh. Oh no. Tony." She stood up and looked about frantically.

"Go on. I will log you out."

"You're a star, Sir. See you in the morning." She quickly grabbed her things and made her exit.

James stretched over her desk and logged her computer off. He nearly didn't notice it and it disconcerted him when he did look up and saw a brio perfectly balanced on the edge of the photo of him and Robbie. He reached up and very cautiously placed the pen back on his desk as if it might defy physics and leap back to its place on the shelf.

Hathaway stood in the wind and indulged his mind in explanations for his visiting specter. He didn't like most of his logical answers much better than the idea of a Ghost. Robbie pulled up in the car park and grinned sheepishly.

James took a last puff and raised the cigarette in victory before crushing it under his foot. "There is a ghost in our office that seems to take contravention to my addiction."

Robbie shrugged with mock innocence. "Clever fellow, him, then."

James gave him a side glance and a patient smile, "I don't know why you bother. After all this time."

"I've already buried one bagman," Robbie reminds him gruffly.

"Who was murdered. Smoking had no impact."

Robbie grunted and then mumbled, "By another hand or your own, still comes to the same. I cannot bury you. Don't you dare ever ask it of me. Now get in here and eat. Not enough flesh on you for the bloody smoke to cling to."

Hathaway smirked and felt warmth fill his core at the crotchety show that the older man may not understand his struggle, but that he did notice that it existed. He peeked in the bag Robbie held out to him. "Way to my heart," James ventured, knowing he was delicately crossing a line that Lewis would not see.

Thank you all for the kind reviews. I had not planned to put more up so quickly, but plans are fluid.