Disclaimer:  The Real Ghostbusters and its characters are the property of Columbia Pictures and DIC.

Originally published in Trap Open #2 by Vendredi Press



Title:  The Last Chapter
Author:  Carole Seegraves
Summary:  An unusual type of haunting requires some creative solutions
Rating:  G
Warnings:  None
Spoilers:  Brief mention of 'The Thing in Mrs.Faversham's Attic'

Feedback welcome at carolej126@yahoo.com


*****

Winston Zeddemore sighed with satisfaction as he turned another page in the book he held.  As one of his favorite hobbies, along with tinkering with Ecto-1, reading had provided him with many hours of enjoyment.  It was a source of pride that he was almost always able to figure out 'whodunit' long before the end of the book.  Remarkably, as promised, this book had turned out to be one of the few in which he wasn't able to reason out the answer before reaching the last chapter.

The novel had been purchased at the airport newsstand three days before, just prior to heading out for a short visit with an old Nam buddy who lived in Detroit.  An avid reader, and mystery fan, he'd taken one glance at the comments inside the front cover - "A fast-paced plot, witty dialogue, more than a few surprises, and a you'll-never-guess-whodunit denouement" - and immediately decided to purchase the book.  He had started the book on the plane, read a little more during his visit, and almost finished it on his journey home.  Now, with only the last chapter left to read, there were still several suspects for the role of murderer, all with excellent motives and opportunity.

He scrunched down a little further in his seat, the soft cushions of the couch providing a cozy nest, and lifted his feet to prop them on the edge of the coffee table in front of him.  Reading a bit further, he shook his head as his number one suspect was eliminated, and his mind quickly ran through the remaining suspects in an effort to determine the most likely.
"Home at last and I'm starving!"

Winston looked up, startled.  There was another noise from below and he realized he'd been so engrossed in his book he'd failed to hear the guys return. Carefully marking his place with a bookmark, he set his book aside and headed down the spiral staircase to greet his fellow ghostbusters.

The other three ghostbusters had been absent from the fire house when he'd returned from LaGuardia.  A quick check of Janinine's appointment book revealed a public relations gig, namely a meeting with a local children's group, scheduled for earlier that day, and then a bust arranged for that afternoon.  Normally, knowing the guys had headed out on a bust one man short would have been a source of alarm for the eldest member of the team.  But the description penned within the appointment book had assuaged his fears.  The apparition in question had done nothing threatening or destructive, instead simply appearing and disappearing without speaking over a period of several days.  The three of them, Winston had mused, should have been able to take care of that ghost quite easily.  Now, it appeared that his assessment had been correct.  The bust had been a simple one, and the guys were home safely.

Winston stepped from the bottom step of the staircase to find Peter Venkman standing next to Ecto-1.  As he approached, the remaining ghostbusters disembarked from the front seat of the renovated hearse.  "Hey, guys," he called.

"Winston!" exclaimed Ray Stantz.  "We didn't expect you back until later.  When did you get home?  Did you have a good time?"

The black man smiled and answered, "About a half-hour ago, and yes, I did.  How did the bust go?"  He checked the traps hanging on the side of each man's pack automatically and was surprised to see that all of them were still empty.  In addition, all three of the ghostbusters wore spotless uniforms.  Even Peter's garments were clean, an unusual condition for the man who should have been voted 'Most Likely to Get Slimed.'  "Didn't you find the ghosts?"

"Yeah, there were two of them," Peter replied.  "Class Three."

Class Three ghosts were those of people, Winston knew, who for one reason or another had been unable to move on to whatever awaited them.  Most remained only long
enough to accomplish some specific task, and then dispersed peacefully.  "So, what happened," he asked.

"Well, the ghosts were these two kids-"

"Two kids?" Winston interrupted, shaking his head at Ray's words.  While the ghostbusters enjoyed their jobs, busting the ghosts of children had never been one of their favorite types of assignments.  "Man, that's tough."     

Peter wrapped a companionable arm around Winston's shoulders, smiling broadly.  "Nah, it was good, Zed, old buddy."

"It was a satisfying bust, Winston, in every way," Egon Spengler agreed.

Ray nodded, his face bright with excitement.  "It was great!"

Winston stared at each of them in turn, bewilderment on his features.  "What do you mean, it was great?  I don't-"

"We've got a couple of pizzas on the way," Peter cut in, smiling at Winston's discomfiture, "so let's go upstairs and we'll tell you all about it."  He gestured toward the staircase with his free hand.  At Winston's nod, the psychologist led the way up the stairs.  "It all started when we got to Mrs. Dunham's house," he began, without even waiting for them to reach the next floor. 

*****

"I've never been one to be spooked by every noise, and I've certainly never believed in UFOs, aliens, ghosts, or any such nonsense," Mrs. Dunham told them.

Sitting side by side with the other two ghostbusters on a flowery oversize couch, Peter nodded his agreement.  The elderly woman appeared to be, at least at first glance, a lady not easily given over to hysterics or flights of fancy.  In fact, she reminded him a little of Mrs. Faversham, the soft-spoken woman who had called them to rid her home of ghosts, and ended up being his adopted mother. 

"But I've seen some things I can't explain," Mrs. Dunham continued.  "That's why I called you."

Peter favored her with a reassuring smile.  "You did the right thing."  He turned to Egon, nodding toward the meter in the physicist's hands.  "Are you picking
up anything?"

"Hmmm," Egon murmured, examining the readings on his P.K.E. meter.  

When the physicist failed to offer any additional information, Peter rolled his eyes.  "And what does that mean?" he encouraged sarcastically, leaning over to peer at the meter for himself. 

"Residuals," Egon reported without looking up, still tinkering with the settings on his meter.  "Indicating ectoplasmic activity within the past few days."

"Class Three, by the looks of it," Ray added, checking his own meter for good measure. 

Egon raised his eyes to meet Peter's gaze.  "Of course, further investigation is required to confirm that hypothesis."

"Of course it is," Peter sighed, contriving to sound very put upon at the idea of work.  He turned to Mrs. Dunham.  "You've see the entity two times?"

"No, three," she corrected, to their surprise.  "Not long after I talked to your delightful secretary, it appeared again." 

Peter fought off a snicker at the thought of 'delightful' applied to Janine, and darted a quick glance of amusement at Egon who, of course, steadfastly ignored him.  He turned back to Mrs. Dunham.  "Can you describe what you saw?"

"Yes, of course," she answered immediately.  "They were very faint, almost wispy in appearance."

"They?" Ray questioned.  "There was more than one distinct shape?"

Mrs. Dunham thought for a moment.  "Well, not the first time, or the second, although I could almost see some sort of shape when it appeared that time."

"But the third time you saw it, you could definitely see more than one figure?" Ray asked.

"Yes," the woman verified.

"It solidified a little more each time," Egon mused aloud.  "As if, with each appearance, the entity grew stronger."

"I don't like the sound of that," Peter confessed.  So far this was his kind of bust, no running, no chasing,
no blasting, no getting slimed.  He wasn't in any hurry to change that.

"Nor do I," Egon agreed.  "Since we have no idea how strong it could become."

Ray didn't seem bothered by the new development; instead, he was almost bouncing in his seat with anticipation.  "Yeah, isn't it great!" he gushed.

"Ray, Ray, Ray," Peter admonished fondly.  After a tousle of the occultist's auburn hair, he looked at Mrs. Dunham.  "When you saw it the third time, what did it look like?"

"Small of stature, so if they were, well...ghosts...they must have been children."

Peter made a face at her speculation and Ray sank down in his seat, his face paling, clearly troubled by the possibility.  Taking a deep breath, the psychologist nudged the younger man's arm, trying to impart some measure of comfort.  Ray looked up in response and, although he was able to meet Peter's gaze with a shaky smile, there was still a hint of a shadow in his eyes.

"Mrs. Dunham," Egon began, taking over the conversation to allow Ray to regain his equilibrium. "Did the manifestation appear in the same location during each appearance?"

"No, it didn't," Mrs. Dunham answered.  "The first two times, it appeared in the upstairs bedroom.  The third, it appeared right there, next to that chair."

Three sets of eyes instantly swung in the indicated direction.  There was nothing unusual about it that any of the guys could see, it was simply a lightly padded, high backed, four-legged chair, situated under a low watt reading lamp.

"Mrs. Dunham, if it's all right with you, we'd like to check out the whole house," Ray suggested.  The air of excitement which had surrounded him ever since receiving the summons was now absent, but the ghostbuster was obviously determined to carry out his job,  

At her nod of assent, the three men rose from the couch.  Peter led the way, thrower in hand, as the two scientists followed behind him, their heads bent over Egon's PKE meter.  Despite a thorough search of the house and the grounds, aside from the previously recorded residuals, there was no ectoplasmic activity.

"Well?" Mrs. Dunham questioned, as they trooped back into her living room.

Egon shook his head as the three men reclaimed their seats.  "Nothing that we can pinpoint at this time. It may assist us in our task if we were to learn more about the house itself."

"Well, I'm not sure how much I can tell you.  You see, I've only lived here for a short time."

"Anything you can tell us would be helpful," Ray reassured her.  Peter was glad to see he had regained a bit of his color.

"The house was previously owned by a man named Matthew Philpott.  He had inherited it from his brother.  It was one of those situations where he didn't want to live in the house, yet didn't want to sell it because it had been in the family for so long.  I believe it was used as a rental for a short time.  When Mr. Philpott's health began to fail, it was necessary for him to sell it."

Peter considered her words for a minute before asking, "Do you happen to know if his brother had any children?"

Pursing her lips together in thought, Mrs. Dunham replied, "He may have, or at least there were children living in the house at some point."  At Egon's crooked eyebrow, she explained, "I've found a few boxes stored in the attic which contained children's toys and books.  In addition, when I first inspected the property, there were the remnants of a rusty swing set in the back yard.  I've since had it removed."

"Hmmm," Egon murmured.  "It would be beneficial to learn about the children who lived here.  Would you happen to have Mr. Philpott's phone number?"

Mrs. Dunham nodded.  "Yes, I believe I do.  Would you like me to call him?" "That would be great," Ray told her. 

"Very well.  I'll be just a few minutes."  She excused herself, making her way to the phone in the kitchen.

"Egon, do you think that the ghosts are children who used to live here?  Maybe some kids that even *died* here?"  Ray looked appalled at the very idea. 

"That is certainly a possibility, Ray," Egon confirmed.
Ray sighed.  "I hate the idea of busting kids," he admitted.  His face somber, he dropped his gaze to his lap.   

Peter traded a look with Egon over Ray's bowed head.
"I know you do, Tex," he said, reaching over to slid his fingers around the back of Ray's neck and gently tug on a few locks of red hair.  "But let's don't jump to conclusions here, okay?  We may not have to."  He fervently hoped it would prove to be true.  Ray would be devastated if they were forced to trap the kids, knowing that the child ghosts would be permanently confined in the containment field with all of the other ghosts, good and evil, they'd captured. 

"Yeah, okay," Ray agreed, his face still downcast. 

"I have the information you needed," Mrs. Dunham called, as she returned to the living room.  Smiling as all three men automatically rose to their feet, she waited until they had all regained their seats before speaking.  "According to Mr. Philpott, his brother did not have any children.  However, there were two children in the family that last rented the house."

"Did he know what happened to them?  Did they move to another house or..."  Peter shrugged and lifted his hands in inquiry, looking at Mrs. Dunham expectantly.

"Yes, apparently there was an automobile accident that took the lives of the whole family.  The mother and her two children were killed."

"Oh, gosh.  That's so sad."

Peter knew exactly what the occultist was thinking. The youngest ghostbuster had experienced a tragedy of this type in his own life.  The only difference was, he had survived and his parents had not.  The psychologist offered Ray a sympathetic smile, noticing as he did, Egon had shifted his position in a show of silent support and his shoulder was now brushing Ray's.

"Do you believe these children are the ones haunting my house?" Mrs. Dunham asked.  At Egon's nod, she asked, "Why?"

"You may have said something or done something that triggered their appearance," Egon said thoughtfully.

Mrs. Dunham leaned forward in her chair.  "But what?"

"We're not sure," Egon admitted.  "How soon after you
moved in did the ghosts appear?"

"About two weeks," answered Mrs. Dunham.

"What were you doing when they appeared?" Ray asked.

"Let's see.  The first two times I was upstairs, doing a little light reading before getting ready for bed. Last night, I was sitting in that chair, reading a book before retiring."

Feeling like he was grasping at straws, Peter asked, "Anything else?"

"Well, I was having a cup of tea.  Earl Grey," she added.

An elderly woman reading a book, while drinking tea, before bedtime.  Didn't sound like a combination that would draw two child ghosts, but it had.  Peter exchanged a perplexed look with Egon.  Something was missing.  An important detail.

"You were reading each time the ghosts appeared?" Ray asked. 

"Yes, I was," she confirmed.  "Reading is one of the few pleasures I have left.  At my age, I'm not able to get out as much as I'd like to, but I always make a point of visiting the library once a week."  Mrs. Dunham smiled before adding, "I do so enjoy reading
aloud to my dear Muriel."

"Muriel?" Egon asked. 

"I thought you lived here alone?" Ray said.

"Oh, I do," laughed Mrs. Dunham.  "Muriel is my cat, but she's just like a member of the family."

Peter looked around the room, half expecting a feline to be peering around a corner, or preparing to stalk him as soon as he got to his feet.  "I don't remember seeing a cat."

"She spends her days prowling the neighborhood, and then returns in the evening for her dinner."

"What book were you reading?" Ray suddenly asked.

"It's a wonderful story about three children.  The title was...let me think, something about a farm, I believe."

Ray's slow nod caught Peter's attention.  "You got something, Tex?" 
"Possibly," he answered.  "May we see it?" Ray requested.

"It's right there," Mrs. Dunham said, gesturing toward the paperback novel on the table across the room. 

Peter jumped to his feet, Ray right behind him, and retrieved the book.  As he did, Egon surreptitiously aimed his PKE meter in the direction of the novel. When the physicist lowered the meter a few seconds later in obvious disappointment, Peter glanced down at the front cover.  He cocked an eyebrow at the title and illustration.

"Oh, I know it's a children's book, my dear," Mrs. Dunham called, apparently correctly interpreting Peter's look of confusion.  "I finished my last library book on Friday, and since I always visit the library on Wednesday afternoon, I decided to read one of the books I'd found in the attic.  It was quite a chore, I'll tell you, getting up and down those stairs."

"It's one of the books you found in the attic?" Ray repeated in excitement.  "Gosh, that could explain it!"

"What do you mean, Ray?" Peter asked.

"What if those kids were reading that book and they never got to finish?" Ray suggested.

"So, when Mrs. Dunham here was reading this story, the kids came to see if they could hear the ending?" Peter shook his head.  The whole thing seemed incredible.

Egon nodded slowly.  "That scenario would fit the facts as we know them."

"Look at this," Peter said, holding up a small rectangle of paper.  "Mrs. Dunham, was this in the book when you found it?"

"Why, yes, it was," Mrs. Dunham confirmed. 

"What is it?" Ray asked, craning his neck to inspect the paper.  "It's a bookmark," he said in recognition. "Hey, do you suppose it was marking the place where the kids left off?"

"Those poor children," exclaimed Mrs. Dunham.  "They never meant any harm, they simply wanted to hear the last chapter of the book."
"Maybe their mom used to read out loud to them."  A gentle smile lit up Ray's features.  "I know my mom did." 

Peter slung his arm around Ray's shoulders.  "Mine did, too," he admitted softly.  His smile matched that of his friend, as he was briefly lost in the memory of sitting in his mother's lap while she read to him.

"Do you believe if they are able to hear the end of the book, they will... uh, move on?" Mrs. Dunham asked.

"Essentially, yes," Egon confirmed. 

"Then that's what we'll do," the woman proclaimed. "Do I need to read the whole book?"

Peter exchanged a look with Ray.  "No," the occultist determined, "Only the part that the kids didn't get to hear."

"I think I can find it," Mrs. Dunham said.  Peter handed her the paperback, and she thumbed through its pages slowly.  "I think this is the right place," she said, stopping with her finger marking a page near the end of the book.  "Should I read it right now?"  When all three men nodded, she made herself comfortable in her chair, set her reading glasses on her nose, and began to read.

Egon's eyes went to his meter, Ray watched Mrs. Dunham, and Peter took up a defensive position, thrower in hand, just in case.  Only a few seconds went by before Egon's PKE meter beeped softly, its antenna rising into the air. 

"Oh, wow," Ray whispered, as two figures began to appear.  They were indistinct at first, then strengthened into a more solid shape.  The two children were floating, just above the floor.  Both were sitting, the boy, legs criss-cross in front of him, the girl, legs tucked beside her in a more demure position.  Both faces were looking up at Mrs. Dunham. To her credit, the woman had continued to read as the apparitions had formed, and now she paused, watching Ray as he slowly moved forward.

"That's it, isn't it?" Ray asked softly.  He carefully approached the two ghosts, and when they didn't pull back or disappear, he dropped to his knees.  Now at their level, he reached out to place his hand on the boy's shoulder.  Ignoring the cold that immediately seeped into his own body, he said, "You just wanted to
hear the end of your story, didn't you?"

As the resident psychologist, Peter was normally the one to initiate conversations with the ghosts they encountered, and had been successful in convincing many of them to either disperse peacefully or be trapped; but in this case, he was more than willing to allow Ray to take the lead. 

The boy nodded, his mouth moving soundlessly.  An ectoplasmic tear traveled down the little girl's cheek.

"You can put that away, Peter," Ray directed, motioning toward the thrower he held.  When Peter had complied, he looked up at Mrs. Dunham.  "Mrs. Dunham? Could you please finish the story?"

Mrs. Dunham nodded, and with a smile for the two children, she began to read again.

*****

Peter took a sip of his soda before finishing his story.  "And then the two kids dispersed peacefully, smiles on their faces."

"Whoa," Winston said, shaking his head.  "Sounds as crazy as some of the mysteries I've read."  

"At first I felt sorry for those kids, well, I guess I still do, but I'm glad we didn't have to trap them," Ray put in.

"Me, too," Peter agreed.  He picked up another slice of pizza and stuffed half of it in his mouth. "Anybody want more pizza?" he asked almost indecipherably, his mouth full.

Winston looked at the cardboard box.  Empty.  "Uh, no, thanks." Peter followed his gaze, and spying the empty box, gave Winston an innocent grin.  "Sorry, did you want some more?"

With a laugh, Winston shook his head.

"I'm gonna head for the shower.  I've got a date tonight," Peter announced, a broad smirk on his face. "What are you guys gonna do?"

"I have a few experiments to run in the lab," Egon said.  "Ray, we could work on your new designs for the
atomic destabilizer if you'd like."

"Sure!" Ray exclaimed.  "That'd be great!  What about you, Winston?"

Winston glanced around at his friends.  "I've got some unpacking to do, and then I want to finish the book I was reading on the plane.  I've only got..."  His voice trailed off in the sudden silence that greeted his words and he caught his breath at the stunned, almost fearful, look on three faces.  Replaying in his mind the words he'd just spoken, he realized his innocently spoken comment had taken on a whole new meaning to his friends.  With a forced chuckle, he said, "I didn't mean it like that, guys.  I've got no plans to kick off any time soon."

Peter recovered first.  With a wicked grin and a nudge to Ray's ribs, he said in a deliberately outrageous tone, "I think he's just dying to finish that last chapter.  What about you guys?"

The psychologist's flippant question had the desired effect.  The other two men relaxed their rigid stances, and smiles teased at the corners of both mouths.

"Indeed," Egon intoned dryly, his eyes twinkling with humor.

"Hey, you know me," Winston said, with an easy smile directed at Ray, who had yet to speak.  "Gotta figure out 'whodunit' before I get to the end."

Ray grinned.  "Maybe the butler did it," he joked.

Winston shook his head.  "No butler in this one, but there's a tennis player, a jealous mother, a dirty U.S. senator, and the mob, along with a few other suspects."

"My money's on the senator," Peter commented.  "Give them an inch and they'll take a mile."

"I'll let you know," Winston promised with a barely stifled yawn.  He suddenly found himself under close scrutiny. 

Ray touched Winston's arm, squeezing gently.  "Maybe you should call it a night.  You look beat."

"I am," Winston admitted with another yawn as the long day began to catch up with him.  "Me and Jonesie did a lot of running around while I was there.  And a lot of talking."  His face grew somber for a moment.  His
weekend spent reminiscing with a fellow combatant had brought back reminders of a time and place he'd rather forget.  

Peter nodded his understanding.  Emerald eyes met dark ones as he said, "Hey, Zed, I'm available to listen if you want to talk about anything."  He kept Winston's gaze for a few seconds before mischievously adding, "Discount rates, just for you."  

"I know," Winston said with a grateful smile, hearing the serious offer behind the teasing. "I'll tell you guys all about it in the morning."

As Peter headed for the bathroom, and Egon, with Ray
beside him talking a mile a minute, made their way toward the lab, Winston sank back down on the couch. Stretching out his legs and resting his feet on the coffee table, he picked up his book with a sigh of pleasure.  He was tired, but despite his fatigue, he really wanted to finish that last chapter. 

Turning to the spot he'd marked, Winston began to read.  A few minutes later, a loud, "No way!" resounded through the fire hall.