by Otterlady (10/12/99)
At first, Starsky didn't pay too much attention. He put it down to being tired, worrying too much about things. The aftermath of his recent brush with death. When he thought about it at all. The first few times his car keys weren't where he usually left him, he'd cast about for them and would find them in logical places, like on the coffee table or the kitchen counter. The time they ended up in the fridge kind of threw him, but he didn’t worry about it. Then other things started disappearing only to show up in odd spots. His razor under the bed. The book he'd been reading in the living room neatly standing in the linen closet. One shoe going missing for a day then appearing right back where it belonged. Those things bothered him a bit.
But the incident that finally brought the whole thing to a head was when his gun disappeared. He always hung it in the same spot, on the bookcase near the front door. Starsky spent a frantic hour searching his entire apartment, checking every closet, every cupboard. Looking under furniture, in drawers, everywhere he could think of, but the gun and its holster were gone. Finally in desperation, he called Hutch.
Starsky's voice on the phone alarmed Hutch. The night Bellamy injected Starsky with poison was the only time he received such a call from his partner. Although Starsky was coherent this time, he sounded as if he were near the panic stage. All he had said was "Hutch, please get over here." Hutch got there as fast as he could.
The mess that greeted him when he let himself into his friend's apartment shocked Hutch. Couch cushions strewn about, contents from the end tables dumped out, books lying open on the floor. Hutch walked into the kitchen to find emptied cupboard doors hanging open. The contents were either on the floor or jumbled together on the countertops. Hearing sounds of drawers slamming shut in the bedroom, the detective pulled his gun and cautiously approached the open door. Peering around the doorframe, he was surprised to find that the searcher was his partner. Quickly sliding his gun back into his holster, Hutch entered the bedroom. Hearing the movement behind him Starsky jumped and whirled around, fright written across his face.
"Hey, easy partner, it's only me. What the hell's going on?" Gesturing at the pile of clothes and other items on Starsky's bed and floor, "When did this happen?"
The obviously upset Starsky sank down on the bed, ignoring the mess on it. "Hutch, I can't find my gun. I came home, hung it up on the bookcase like I always do, went, and had a shower. When I came back out, it was gone, vanished. Holster and all. I've searched everywhere. I don't know what else to do." He looked up at his friend in defeat.
"You mean you did all this?" Hutch was incredulous. His friend had a passion for neatness. To have him trash his own home was hard to believe.
Starsky looked at the muddle on the bed as if seeing it for the first time. A small smile flickered across his face as he glanced up at his worried partner. "Yeah, guess I did. Hutch, weird things have been happening for the last couple of weeks. Things disappearing then turning up in the oddest places. When I found the gun gone, I guess I just freaked." He rubbed his face with a trembling hand.
Hutch moved over to sit beside him, pushing some T-shirts out of the way. Putting a consoling arm around his shoulders, he gave his friend a little shake. "Come on, Starsk. Let me help you clean up. Maybe we'll find the gun when we start putting stuff back where it belongs."
The dark haired man visibly tried to pull himself together. Patting Hutch on the leg he stood up and looked around the bedroom. "Well, I searched in here pretty thoroughly. Besides, I wasn't even in here until after I showered so I don't see how it could have ended up in here. Leave this for now and come help me clean up in the other room."
The two men went out to the living area. Hutch took a look around. "How about you start in the kitchen and I'll straighten up in here. Then I'll come and help you." Nodding his agreement, Starsky sighed and started sorting out the mess on one of the counters. Hutch watched him for a moment, sad at seeing his friend so upset. Turning to survey the small disaster area that was the living room, he took off his leather jacket and, tossing it on the wicker chair, set to work.
They worked in silence for a few minutes until Hutch, about to put a glass jar back on the bookcase, made a discovery. There, looking perfectly normal, hung Starsky's gun in its holster. Setting the jar down carefully, Hutch stepped back and just stared for a moment. Confusion was his first reaction, then worry, followed by a nameless fear. Finally he swallowed and, not moving, called to his partner.
"Uh, Starsk. Would you come here for a minute?" He could hear his voice crack just a bit.
Starsky came out of the kitchen, carrying some dishtowels he'd been just about to put away. "Yeah, what is it?" Seeing the way his partner was standing, staring, he hurried over. "What?" Hutch turned a worried face to him and pointed at the bookcase. Starsky took one look and stumbled back to sit on the arm of the couch.
"God, Hutch! I swear, it wasn't there. It wasn't there!" His voice started to rise in panic. Hutch turned to his friend in time to see him drop his head into his hands that were still holding the towels. "Oh, God. I must be losing it. It's finally happened. I'm going crazy."
Starsky sounded so scared, so anguished, that Hutch dropped to his knees in front of him and gathered him into his arms. Dropping the towels, Starsky threw his own arms around Hutch's waist and just held on for a moment, his fear evident in his trembling body.
Muttering consoling words, Hutch patted his distraught friend on the back, trying to calm him. Finally, Starsky seemed to gather himself together and pulled away. Hutch sat back on his heels, ready to do whatever he could to help. He watched as his partner wiped his face with one hand and took a shuddering breath. Starsky turned fearful eyes to Hutch.
"What am I going to do, Hutch? You think maybe I'm crazy? I swear that the gun wasn't there. It's been happening with other stuff, too. I'd put it down to being preoccupied, but this is nuts, I'm nuts." With that, Starsky practically leapt up and started to pace.
All Hutch could do was watch him. Maybe this was something left over from the poisoning, an aftereffect, a residual symptom. He felt that maybe he should take his friend back to the hospital to see the doctor who had treated him the first time. Deciding that this was the best solution, he turned to pick up his jacket.
Only to discover it wasn't there. Quickly checking out the room, Hutch realized that his jacket was gone.
Vanished into thin air.
Hutch didn't know what to think. He distinctly remembered throwing the jacket on the chair. Now it was gone. No one else had entered the living room except Starsky since he'd taken the jacket off. And even then, Starsky and he had been together for those few minutes. There was no way that it could have gotten out of the room. Not without him seeing it…was there?
He could hear Starsky pacing behind him, muttering to himself. Would this new happening reassure his frightened partner or push him further over the edge he was teetering on? He had to say something. Besides, he needed a bit of reassurance himself at that moment.
Not taking his eyes off the chair, he attempted to get Starsky's attention. "Starsky. Buddy?" No response. Hutch raised his voice. "Starsky, listen to me." The tone of his voice finally got through to the distraught man.
Starsky stopped muttering and walked back to his friend. He was the picture of total resignation; shoulders slumped, head down. The flickering fear in his eyes the only sign of any emotion. "Yeah?" He sighed.
Hutch couldn't stand seeing his friend like this. He put an arm around those slumped shoulders and pulled Starsky close to him. "Starsk, my jacket's gone."
It took a moment for the words to sink in. When they did, a small spark lit his fear filled eyes. "Wha..?"
"I said, my jacket is gone. I put it on that chair," indicating the bamboo wingback "before I started to clean up in here. Just now, I went to put it on and it was gone."
"But, that would mean.." Starsky looked around his apartment as if he'd never seen it before.
"That would mean that someone or something is behind all of this. And because there was no way that a person could have gotten in here and taken my jacket without me noticing that leaves a.."
"No, don't say that. There's no such thing as ghosts or gremlins or whatever the hell it is that supposed to do stuff like this. That's crazier than me. No way." Starsky looked like he was ready to bolt. While the detective loved horror movies and could laugh at the goriest ones, he was still the adult version of the child raised on folktales and ghost stories. His was a rich history of some of the scariest stories ever invented and his cultural superstitions ran deep.
"Starsky, calm down. I'm not saying it's a ghost or something like that. I'm just saying that there's no way someone got in here and took my jacket. There has to be some kind of rational explanation, I just can't think of one right now." Hutch was beginning to feel a bit skittish himself. He was the logical one of the duo, the counterpoint to his friend's unerring instincts. But at this moment, logic wasn't working. His own instincts were telling him to grab his partner and get the hell out of the apartment.
As usual, that partner picked up on what Hutch was feeling. Pulling away from the hold that was no longer comforting, Starsky started towards his bedroom. "I don't know about you, but I can't stay in this place one more minute. I'm going to get you one of my jackets , and we're getting the hell out of here." He had just entered the other room when Hutch heard a bloodcurdling scream.
Hutch ran to the bedroom just in time to catch his partner backing out. Starsky was as white as a sheet and trembling so hard, Hutch was sure he could hear his teeth rattling. "Starsky, what is it?" His frightened partner turned around and stared at him with wild eyes. The only thing he seemed capable of doing was to point a trembling hand towards the bed. What Hutch saw caused him to take a couple of steps backwards.
There, by Starsky's bed was his jacket, the brown leather one he'd shrugged on in his hurry to respond to his partner's call for help. The jacket was hovering, just touching the pillows on the bed, arms stretched forward in a parody of a welcoming hug. As Hutch watched in shocked disbelief, the jacket seemed to collapse in on itself and fall flat onto the bed.
The two men stared at each other, not wanting to believe what they had both just seen. Starsky still looked like he was considering fainting, Hutch felt as if the world had shifted slightly off kilter. Neither wanted to be the one to speak the obvious. Finally Hutch screwed up his courage and approached the bed. Starsky followed, unwilling to be separated from his partner, even by a few feet.
The jacket lay there, looking completely normal. Hutch didn't want to touch it but had to. To prove something to himself if nothing else. The first thing he noticed was how cold it felt, as if it had been lying in a freezer for a few hours. The second was a slight smell, one that seemed familiar but eluded him. He searched the bed itself, turning the pillows over, pushing the heap of clothes around. Looking for something but not sure what. Finally, his partner couldn't take any more.
"Hutch, please. Drop that damn thing and let's get out of here. I don't think I can stand this for another minute. Come on. Please." The abject terror in Starsky's voice brought Hutch's head up from his search. Seeing that his friend had reached the end of his endurance, he let the jacket fall back to the bed and nodded.
"Okay, pal. Let's go back to my place and we'll try to figure this out." Hutch relented.
Starsky quickly moved to the closet and snatched a jacket that he tossed to his friend. Moving as if the hounds of hell were at his heels, he led Hutch back to the living room. He grabbed his gun from the bookcase and his jacket from the coat rack and quickly donned them both. Checking that he had his keys in his jeans pocket, he reached for the doorknob. But try as he might, he couldn't get it to turn. It was as if someone was on the other side of the door, holding it. Beginning to panic, he twisted and pulled at the knob, to no avail.
Struggling with the door, Starsky turned to his partner. "God, Hutch. It won't let me open the door. We're trapped!"
Hutch could see that Starsky was about to fall over the edge of reason. Reaching forward, he pulled the other man's hands from the knob and tried to turn it himself. It resisted for just a moment then opened as easily as if nothing had happened. It was hard to tell which of the two made it out the door first.
The sound of maniacal laughter floated down the stairs behind the pair as they ran for Hutch's car.
The two men raced down the stairs and almost leapt into Hutch's car sitting at the curb. Neither of them even considered taking the Torino. Hutch jabbed the key into the ignition, cranked the motor over, and peeled away from the curb. He had blanked out his mind, concentrating on the mechanics of driving. Trying his best not to think about what was in Starsky's apartment. There was no logical explanation for what had just happened and if he started to think about it he might just begin screaming.
Unfortunately, his partner did not have anything else to occupy his racing imagination. Taking deep breaths, Starsky tried to calm down. He had never felt so frightened in his life. Not the times he'd been shot. Not even when Bellamy poisoned him. Those were explainable things, part of the real world that he lived in. This was something so foreign to his reality that he had no defense for it. And seeing his friend, who was usually so cool, as frightened as he was, added to that fear. It was becoming a circular thing. The more fear he felt, the more afraid he became. He had to stop that cycle and start thinking. Or he really would go mad and take his partner with him.
"Hutch, pull over." He could tell that Hutch was driving on autopilot. Starsky had to get his friend thinking and not reacting. They both needed to do that. "Hutch," He reached over and put his hand on that tense shoulder.
Hutch flinched then seemed to remember who was in the car with him. He turned fear-glazed eyes to Starsky, looking for some kind of reassurance.
"Pull the car over. We've got to think this through." Starsky's reasonable tone finally reached the frightened man. The blond spotted a parking lot not far ahead and pulled in there. Hutch sat for a moment, forehead resting on the steering wheel, trying to compose himself. Finally, he took a deep breath and turned to his friend.
"How can you be so calm? That, that thing is in your house. What the hell was that?"
Starsky shook his head. "Believe me, buddy, I'm shaking like a leaf inside. I have no idea what's going on, but I mean to find out. No goblin's going to chase me out of my home permanently. It may have this battle , but we're going to win the war. We just need to figure out how we're going to go about it." He tried to smile, but couldn't quite work up one.
"Okay, if you can be rational about this, then so can I." Hutch thought for a moment. "This is so far beyond anything I've ever dealt with, I don't know where to begin." He sighed.
"You think it's familiar territory for me? Up until about an hour ago, I was sure I was going nuts. If it weren't for the fact that you saw the same thing I did, I'd be taking myself to the pysch ward about now." Starsky rubbed a slightly trembling hand through his hair. "There must be somebody we can talk to about this." A moment of silence. "Hey, I've got it! Huggy. He's always talking about his weird relatives and all that voodoo stuff. I bet he could at least steer us in the right direction."
The two smiled at each other, the first ray of hope of the evening. Hutch started his car back up and headed for Huggy's.
*******
Huggy's place wasn't open for business yet, but the partners knew he was usually about at this time of day. The front door was open so they went in. Their friend was on the phone behind the bar, talking in firm tones to whomever was on the other end. Seeing the pair walk in, Huggy waved and pointed at the stools in front of the bar. Realizing that Huggy was going to be a few minutes, Starsky walked back to the ever on coffeepot and poured two cups. Hutch and he settled down on the stools and waited for their friend to finish on the phone.
Hanging up, Huggy turned to his two friends. "Hey bros', what's up? You two are whiter than usual. You seen a ghost or something?"
Hutch smiled weakly. "You might say that, Hug. We need your help."
Realizing that Hutch was upset about something, Huggy dropped his flip attitude. Leaning on the bar, he looked from one to the other. "Lay it on me, gentlemen. What can I do?"
Taking turns, Hutch and Starsky outlined the events of the last few hours. At first Huggy thought that they were trying to pull one over on him. But the way Starsky's hands trembled when he lifted his coffee cup and the way Hutch's eyes kept darting looks into dark corners convinced him that they were telling the truth.
Shaking his head, Huggy was silent for a few minutes after the detectives finished by Starsky trying to duplicate the awful laughter that chased them down the stairs. He walked back and forth behind the bar, pulling at his lower lip and thinking. Finally, he came to rest, leaning on the bar again.
"Okay, there's one person that might be able to help you out. He used to be a professor in some university back east but he got booted because of his dabbling in the occult. Not that he's into the evil stuff, mind you, but even the good magic can get you into trouble in some places. He's into ghosts and lost spirits and all that hocus-pocus. Maybe he can figure out what's haunting your place, Starsky."
"Huggy, at this point I'd track down Glenda the Good Witch if she could get that-- that thing out of my house. What's the man's name and where can we find him?" Just telling his friend about the occurrences in this apartment had sent Starsky shaking again. Hutch laid a hand on his arm. The simple gesture calmed his partner.
"Professor MacAllister. I don't know if he'd talk to you if you showed up unannounced like. Let me make a phone call and set up a meet for you." So saying, Huggy went to the phone, pulled out a little notebook from his jacket pocket. Finding the number he dialed and then waited a few moments. "Hey, Professor. It's Huggy Bear here. I've got a couple of friends with a little spook problem that could use your assistance. Would you be interested?" He paused, listening, then spoke again. "Okay, I'll bring them around. And thanks. See you in a few."
Hanging up, he smiled at the two worried faces at the bar. "It's a go, but he wants me there too. Let me call one of my people to come in and open up; then we'll go." Another quick phone call and he was ready to go. Huggy escorted his friends out the door, carefully locking it behind him, then stopped when he saw Hutch's car.
"Hey man, you don't expect me to ride around in this heap, do you? I mean, it's got no class. At least Starsky's car is clean." Huggy shook his head in disgust.
Hutch turned a dark look on the protesting man. "Huggy, get in the car. I've had a real bad day. I came close to believing my best friend had lost his mind, and I had the crap scared out of me. I'm really not in the mood to hear you grousing about my car."
Huggy held up his hands in surrender and quietly got in the back seat, pushing several items over in the attempt to find room to sit. Starsky flashed him a sympathetic smile and climbed in the front seat. Hutch glared at them and got in himself.
"Where to, Huggy?" He growled.
Huggy gave directions to a residence up one of the canyons. They drove for a while, none of them speaking; all lost in their own thoughts. It didn't take long for them to arrive at the isolated home of the professor. The house was set off the road, hidden behind some trees. As they rounded the last curve in the drive, the house suddenly appeared causing the detectives to gasp in shock.
The house was actually an old mansion. It looked like something out of one of Starsky's horror movies. Dark, brooding, it crouched on its foundation like some ancient animal. The sun had started to set behind the hills casting the place in shadows. Lights flickered from a few windows on the bottom floor, but that was the only sign of life. Both Starsky and Hutch half expected to see bats flying from the attic or vultures perched on the roof. Hutch stopped the car and both partners turned to look at Huggy, dumbfounded.
He smiled toothily at them. "Welcome to Darkhome Manor, my friends."
Hutch found his voice first. "Huggy, you've got to kidding. I think I'd rather take my chances with Starsky's goblin than go in there." Starsky simply nodded his agreement with Hutch's sentiment.
Huggy was quick to reassure his friends. " It's okay, guys. This place may look spooky but it's really quite innocent. A silent film producer built it as a combination home and backdrop for the movies. He made some pretty good horror flicks. I think his name was Hendricks, Henderson, something like that."
"Trevor Hinrichsen. He made Revenge of the Phantoms and a couple sequels. They *are* good movies." On familiar territory, Starsky relaxed and looked with interest at the house. "I recognize this place now. I think he made about a half dozen or so films using this house as the location. Never knew it was here though. Always thought it was in Europe or something."
"Yeah, well, the Professor bought it up for a song and has plans on turning it into a school to study the paranormal. Says that California, and especially Los Angeles, is a hot bed of, as he puts it, 'quasi-parasociological activities'. Or something along those lines. That's why he's so interested in stuff like what's happening at your place, Starsky. He really is an okay dude. A bit strange, but okay."
The detectives looked at each other, then the house, then each other again. Starsky shrugged. "I'm game if you are, pal. Anything would be an improvement over that whatever it is in my house."
Starsky's calm acceptance of this unusual circumstance reassured his twitchy partner. "Okay, Starsk. But the first sign of anything wacko and I'm out of there."
Hutch sighed and opened his door. The three men climbed out of the LTD and walked slowly up the brick walkway. Huggy pressed the doorbell button resulting in a loud and deep bell like sound to reverberate through the still canyon air. Huggy turned one of his teasing smiles on his friends. "That's part of the original charm of this place. I think that producer liked to freak out his guests."
Starsky laughed hollowly, "Well, it's working." Just then, the door opened, hinges creaking eerily in the quiet evening shadows. A tall, gaunt man stood in the open doorway. Somewhere in his fifties, with gray hair and a full beard, he peered at them through thick glasses. Recognizing Huggy, a bright smile transformed his face, making him look more like Santa Claus than Vincent Price.
"Huggy, come in, come in. It's so good to see you again." Shaking Huggy's hand, he turned his inquisitive eyes to the partners. "And I take it these are your friends with the 'little spook problem' you mentioned."
Smiling, Huggy made the introductions. "Professor MacAllister, these are my friends Dave Starsky and Ken Hutchinson." The men shook hands. "Starsky's the one with the uninvited guest."
The Professor smiled benignly at the partners. "Well, come into the library and you can tell me all about it." He led the trio down the hall and ushered them into a warm and inviting room, furnished in leather chairs and a huge old-fashioned roll top desk. Dark wood paneling, a large fireplace, complete with crackling fire, and hundreds of books lining bookcase shelves completed the cozy atmosphere. MacAllister gestured towards the chairs, indicating that they should sit. Then, going over to an oak sideboard he lifted a bottle of brandy. "You two look like you could use one of these. May I interest you all in a drink?"
Starsky smiled at their host. "That would be good. Maybe it'll help me stop twitching." His two companions nodded their acceptance as the Professor poured brandy into four small snifters.
Handing the glasses out, the older man looked at Starsky. "You appear to be of middle European descent, Mr. Starsky. Would there by chance be Gypsy blood in your ancestry?"
Casting an irritated glance at his partner, who was trying not to snicker, Starsky said, "Not that I'm aware of. Why?"
Sitting down in another of the chairs, the Professor smiled, "Nothing important. It's just that Gypsies tend to be closely attuned to the spirit world and sometimes people who have these visitations have an ethnic link to one of the more spiritually astute peoples. But that's a discussion for another day. Please, tell me, in as much detail as possible, about your experience."
Once again, taking turns, the partners told their story. MacAllister sat back in his chair, eyes closed, listening carefully. After Hutch and Starsky finished their retelling of their walk through hell, the Professor sat forward and asked some pointed questions of Starsky. He took him back to the beginning of the mysterious misplacements of items, up to and including the gun. Then he questioned Hutch about the experience with his jacket.
<Boy, this guy should work for the police department. He'd make a great interrogator.> Hutch thought. "Professor, what do you think it is? I mean, I've never believed in ghosts or gremlins or any of that mumbo-jumbo. Most of the evil that I've ever run into is of the strictly human kind. This whole thing has got me totally perplexed."
"Most people don't until they have an experience such as yours. As for what it is, well that's a bit difficult. The occurrences, the small items disappearing, then reappearing in odd places are usually the work of rather harmless spirits, gremlins if you will, playing with you. They usually like the person they're playing the tricks on, that's why they always return the things they take. Practical jokes, if you will. But when it took your gun, it was no longer playing with you. A gun is an instrument of violence and because of its metallic composition, most spirit creatures wouldn't touch it. Even if it were still playing with you, it would have returned the gun sooner when it saw how much it upset you. And it would have tried to put it somewhere where you would have found it immediately not back where belonged, where you wouldn't look for it. And the business with the jacket shows a distinct streak of cruelty, not to mention it shifting its attentions to Mr. Hutchinson."
Starsky shifted uncomfortably in the big chair, causing the leather to creak loudly in the quiet room. "So, what does this mean. If, as you say, it's showing such cruel tendencies what is it? And how do I get it out of my home?"
"Mr. Starsky,"
"Call me David."
"Very well, David. If it weren't for the fact that you're too old and the wrong gender, I'd say it was a poltergeist. But as they generally attach themselves to teenage girls, I think we can rule that out. It's not gremlins, sprits, or any of a number of other minor creatures. That basically leaves a ghost."
All three friends darted uneasy glances at each other. The Professor held up his hand, stopping any questions.
"Now, before you jump to conclusions, let me just explain. The term 'ghost' includes any number of spirits. Usually we think of the kind that haunts castles in Scotland, and I've seen some of those in my ancestral home. Basically harmless, they make noises, cause cold spots and occasionally allow themselves to be seen. Usually they are the spirits of someone who doesn’t realize that they are dead. A victim of sudden illness or accident, very rarely of violence. Often a small child or even one who can't bear to leave a place or someone they loved. They get stuck, if you will, between this reality and the next. Usually they disappear on their own. Sometimes they need help, someone to tell them that they are dead. Unfortunately, I don't think that's what you have here."
Starsky swallowed hard, knowing that he wasn't going to like whatever the Professor was about to tell them. Hutch reached over and put his a comforting hand on his arm.
"I must ask you, David, was there an unusual happening in your home shortly before the disappearances first started? Something violent or angry?"
The dark haired detective looked down at his feet. Even though three weeks had passed since he came home from the hospital. Since Bellamy and another professor had tried to kill him, he found it difficult to talk about the poisoning. His partner realized his reluctance to speak and answered for him.
"Yes, a man got into Starsky's apartment and poisoned him. It was close," Looking at his partner, "too damn close. He almost died. The man who broke in was a violent criminal. He hated Starsky." Hutch turned his attention back to MacAllister. "What would that have to do with whatever is in his apartment?"
"If it's the type of spirit that I think it is, they are usually awakened by violence. It has more than likely always been there, dormant, until this final event aroused it. It's as if they feed on the negative energy created by a violent act, especially if there is also a lot of fear or terror produced by that act. And the more fear they can produce by their actions the stronger they become. If the disappearances, especially the gun, caused a great deal of fear, then the spirit fed off of that energy and became stronger. When it managed to terrify both of you, it became stronger yet. I think that we may be in for a bitter fight."
The Professor's words did nothing to calm any of the three friends. Huggy, hearing the story again in all its gory detail, was as frightened as the two detectives. He had been in both partners' homes often and the thought of some spirit hanging around in Starsky's unnerved him. Huggy had to know what they were in for.
"Professor, just what are you trying to tell us? What are we dealing with?" Huggy's voice trembled just a little.
"Gentlemen, I'm afraid we're not dealing with an ordinary restless ghost. The spirit that has taken up residence in your home, David, is not just a misplaced spirit. It's a lost soul. A demon."
Professor MacAllister's words evoked different responses in each of his three guests; a startled look from Starsky, a gasp of fright from Huggy and a snort of disbelief from Hutch.
"Come on, Professor. You expect us to believe that Starsky has a pointy-eared demon living in his house? Just where do you think it come from and why the hell is it after Starsky?" Hutch's skeptical words were biting.
The Professor smiled sympathetically at the irate blond. "No, Mr. Hutchinson, I don't mean the 'pointy-eared' variety like the ones popularized in movies and horror novels. I simply mean an entity that has no, well --soul I guess is the best term. Most spirits, ghosts, sprits, what have you, all have souls or at least a form of morality that they adhere too. But there are others, creatures that feed on fear, hatred, and violence that have no morals. They are evil and are very hard to vanquish. That's what we're dealing with here, gentlemen. As to where it came from, they've been around since the beginning of time, but that is also a whole other discussion. As to why it's after your friend here, I'd say someone summoned it."
"Summoned it?" Starsky practically squeaked. "How? Who? I mean--oh damn, I don't know what I mean." He leaned forward and held his face in his trembling hands. "Who the hell would summon a demon to haunt me and why?" He sighed.
Hutch got up from his chair and sat down on the arm of Starsky's in order to place a comforting arm around his friend's shoulders. Starsky leaned back and looked first at his partner and then at the Professor.
MacAllister smiled sympathetically at the upset man. "It may have been an accident. Someone playing around with forces they didn't understand."
Hutch had a sudden thought. "Hey, Starsk. You remember that girl I dated for a little while last fall? The one I brought to your Halloween party?"
Starsky looked perplexed for a minute, then he remembered. "Oh yeah, Amber or Ashleigh or whatever. The one that said she was a witch. What about her?"
"Her name was Asiza. She said it was some mystical African name. And I don't think she was really a witch; I think she liked to *think* she was one." Hutch shook his head in bemusement. "Anyway, remember at the party when she gathered all those candles together and said she was going to welcome our ancestral spirits to the party? She chanted some words and threw herbs around. Everyone thought it was a real hoot, remember? Maybe she did a better job than we thought."
Professor MacAllister nodded his head. "Yes, that could have been it. If someone who has the talent, but not the training tried something like that, they could have raised any number of spirits. If she didn't know the right way to work the spell, or how to put limits on it, that could be very dangerous indeed. I don't suppose you remember anything that she said while working the spell do you?" He asked hopefully.
Both partners shook their heads. Hutch answered, rather sheepishly. "I'm afraid I wasn't paying that much attention to her. I hadn't realized how much of a flake she was until that evening and I, uh well.."
Starsky poked his embarrassed partner in the ribs. "What Hutch is trying to say, is that he was busy flirting with another woman , while what's her name was putting on her little show. Matter of fact, I think it was my date he was flirting with." He pretended to scowl at Hutch without much success. Turning back to the Professor, he continued. "I didn't pay much attention either. It was getting fairly late and since the party was at my place, I had a couple more drinks than I probably should have. Matter of fact, I think that I had to entrust my partner here to see my date home." Again he tried out the scowl. The only response he got was an innocent smile from Hutch.
Huggy sighed. "You'll have to forgive these two Lotharios, Professor. This kind of thing goes on all the time. I've had to warn every waitress that I hire to stay away from them. So know that you have an idea how this spook got itself invited in, how do you propose we get rid of it?
Instead of answering Huggy immediately, the Professor stood up and walked over to one of the heavily laden bookcases. He spent a few moments looking over the titles before he pulled out a thick book. Tucking it under his arm, he went to another case and selected a couple more books then carried them over to the desk and sat down.
"Give me a few minutes. I know that I have some references here on banishing such spirits. Make yourselves comfortable. Have another drink or if you like, the kitchen is just down the hallway to your right. I think there's some roast beef in the refrigerator." With that, he turned back to the books and was immediately engrossed in them.
The three friends looked at each other and shrugged. Starsky, now that rescue seemed imminent, decided he was hungry. Huggy decided to join him in the search of the kitchen. Hutch went off looking for a bathroom and then came back to the library to find the Professor still pouring over his books, muttering and taking notes in a large coil notebook. Hutch, too restless to sit, wandered over to check out the books lining the walls. He recognized some titles, but most were totally foreign to him. His fingers itched with the desire to pull a book or two off of those shelves and read, but as he hadn't received permission to do so, he restrained himself.
After a little while, Huggy and Starsky returned from the kitchen with a plate full of sandwiches and carton of milk. Realizing that he had missed dinner and was hungry, Hutch helped himself to a sandwich and poured some milk into his brandy glass. The trio settled back into their chairs and quietly ate their meal. They had polished off the last sandwich by the time the Professor closed the book he was reading and turned back to them.
MacAllister came and sat back down in the leather chair he'd been in earlier. Crossing his legs and folding his hands across his chest, he looked at his three guests, searchingly. His scrutiny lasted long enough to make the others fidget. Finally, Starsky could take no more.
"Okay, Professor. Spill it. Did you find something that's going to get that thing out of my house?"
The Professor smiled at the agitated man. "Yes and no." He held up a hand when Starsky started to speak. "Hear me out, David. There are a couple of things we can try. Either of which may work or may fail miserably. If they don't work, you have two choices. Stay in the house and hope that the spirit doesn’t escalate its activities or move. Have you noticed any similar activities away from your home?" Receiving a "No" from Starsky, he continued. "That's good. It mean's that it hasn't attached itself to you, yet; that its confined to the house or property. That will make it easier to bind if we can't banish it."
"What do you mean by 'bind', Professor?" Hutch questioned.
"Binding will prevent it from encroaching on this plane, this reality. But only as long as nothing else happens to release it again, such as another violent act, like the one you described earlier. I've been meaning to ask, what did you do, David, that someone would want to kill you?"
"I'm--- we're cops." Gesturing to himself and Hutch. "We had arrested the man who broke into my place and sent him to prison. Another man, the one behind the poisoning, wanted revenge on both of us, because he blamed us for the death of his son. He planned on killing us both and decided to start with me." Starsky sighed. His partner patted his shoulder, his face showing the remembered fear and pain that the experience had put both of them through.
"Hmm. Is there a chance of something like that happening again? Someone else who would seek you out at home?" MacAllister questioned.
"Well, it's always a possibility. Other things have happened before. Nothing as serious as that, but there's no guarantee in our business that it wouldn't." Hutch answered, both men remembering other times when the criminals had sought them out.
"Then, I'd say if we can't banish it, your only option is to move as far away from there as you can. Even with binding, there is always going to be the possibility of it escaping the bindings and coming back even stronger." The Professor stood. "Gentlemen, I think it's time we get to work. I want to get this over with long before midnight. And we're in luck because it's a waning moon. The demon isn't as strong now as it would be if the moon were waxing. Give me your address. I'm going to gather a few materials and meet you there in a little while. Go home, but do not go inside until I get there."
Starsky told MacAllister his address and the three prepared to leave. The Professor escorted them to the door with a promise that he would be along shortly. The friends piled back into Hutch's car and started the long journey back to Starsky's.
"Huggy, we'll drop you off before we go back to Starsk's." Hutch began.
"No way, man. I'm going to see this through with the both of you." Huggy stated firmly.
"You don't have to, Hug." Starsky turned in his seat to look at him.
"Hey, how many times does a man get the chance to be a ghost-buster?" Huggy's white smile gleamed in the darkness of the backseat. "Besides, you're my friends and I want to help."
"Thanks, Huggy. I appreciate it. But if things start to go bad, you get out of there, you hear me?" Starsky ordered.
"Sure, my man. I'll be gone so fast, you won't even see me move." Huggy assured.
The three finished the trip down the canyon into the city in silence. Each lost in his own thoughts and worries about the coming battle. Hutch pulled up across the alley from Starsky's building. They sat staring up at the innocent looking structure, waiting for the man who, hopefully, would return Starsky's sanctuary back to him.
They didn't have to wait long. A vintage Rolls Royce pulled up behind Hutch's LTD and the Professor climbed out. Starsky, Hutch, and Huggy joined the older man as he opened the trunk of his car and started to take out two large cases. Catching Hutch admiring his car, MacAllister smiled.
"It's a beauty, isn't it? It came with the property. The man who owned the place hadn't driven it in years and it took me a while to restore it, but now it purrs like a kitten. Besides, it rather goes with my image, don't you think?"
The three friends, realizing that the Professor was teasing them, laughed. They helped with taking the cases, as well as some bags out of the trunk. When MacAllister closed the trunk, all humor appeared to flee. Hutch and Starsky seemed to huddle together and Huggy looked as though any sudden noise would set him screaming. The Professor, observing this transformation, smiled reassuringly.
"I know that this whole thing is unnerving to you, but it's something that I am familiar with. I studied overseas with some of the most learned people in the field and have participated in several similar incidents. I'm not going to promise that there is no danger in what we are about to do, but I believe that the risks are minimal. From what you've told me, the spirit is not that strong and if we can control him quickly before he gathers more strength, so much the better." His smile again changed his rather stern features to kindly.
"What do you want us to do, Professor?" Starsky asked, trying to sound much calmer than he felt.
"Mostly to not react with fear to anything that you may see or hear during the spellcasting. And don't say anything to me unless I ask a question first. You mustn't interrupt me while I'm actually performing the spell. I would have to start over from the beginning , and that can weaken the effectiveness of the spell as it gives the spirit knowledge of what I'm doing. There is one other thing I must ask you to do that I don't think you're going to like. But it's very important to the success of how things turn out."
Starsky and Hutch exchanged worried glances. "What is it?" Hutch questioned.
"You must leave your weapons outside of the building." He raised a hand to forestall the protests he saw on both officers' faces. "I know, but as instruments of violence, they would only add power to the spirit and weaken mine. Best thing to do is leave them locked in your car or wherever. Just don't bring them onto the property."
Not happy about it, but understanding what the Professor was telling them, both men shrugged off their jackets and removed their gun harnesses. Hutch opened the trunk of his car and they put their guns in the locked box that Hutch kept there. Putting back on their jackets, they moved to help carry the things that the older man had brought.
Starsky led the group up the stairs to his apartment. Fishing the keys out of his pocket, he unlocked the door. He almost had to force himself to open that door, apprehensive at what lay beyond that portal.
All was quiet as the door opened. Too quiet. The usual noises of Starsky's apartment were missing. No ticking of the clock on the bookshelf, no refrigerator motor sound, nothing. Total silence. When he flicked on the light switch, the lights flickered and settled into a faint glow casting the living room into an unnatural gloom. The three friends looked uneasily at each other. The Professor urged them across the threshold into the apartment.
"We must move quickly, gentlemen. It's found a way to draw on the electrical energy in the building. We must stop it before it gets any stronger." MacAllister looked around the room at Starsky's scattered possessions. "It also appears that it's escalated its object movement."
Starsky shifted his feet in embarrassment. "Uh, no, Professor. I'm afraid that I made this mess searching for my gun. We can't blame it on the spirit."
The Professor smiled at the younger man's abashment and moved towards the kitchen. "Help me make some room, David." Gesturing at the mess still on the dining table. "I'll set up here."
Hutch and Starsky quickly moved the dishes and cans to the counters. The Professor ran some water in the sink, rinsed a dishcloth, and wiped the table off. Opening the smaller of the two cases, he took out an odd assortment of items. Candles with wooden holders, a small wooden cup, a knife, and an incense burner appeared on the table. Taking a square piece of purple material, he spread it out on the table and arranged the items in a pattern. Next, he took a wooden bowl and a jar of white crystals out of the case.
"David, please fill this with cold water from the tap. Let it run for a few minutes." MacAllister handed the bowl to Starsky. As Starsky followed orders, the professor lit two of the candles that he had set on the table. Taking the other candles, he proceeded to place them in different areas around the living area of the apartment. Huggy and Hutch simply stayed out of his way, moving once when he wanted to place a candle on the long table behind the couch they were leaning on. Remembering not to speak, Hutch gestured to Huggy to follow him to a new place against the wall in the dining room.
Finally, the Professor was satisfied with his arrangements in the living room and kitchen. "Ken, would you please show me where the bedroom is, where the spirit took your jacket." Hutch pushed himself away from the wall he'd been leaning against and moved to show MacAllister the room in question. As he passed his partner, he touched him on the stomach, a gesture of support he often used to comfort his friend. Starsky smiled and went to stand in Hutch's vacated spot.
As the two men stepped into the bedroom, Hutch noticed the same strange smell that had been in the room earlier. Sniffing, he tried to remember from where he knew the odor. MacAllister didn't notice his preoccupation as he busied himself placing more candles around the room and lighting them. When the older man had finished his task, he turned towards the bed. Noticing Hutch's strange facial expression and his smelling of the air, he too sniffed.
"What is it you smell, Ken?" MacAllister asked.
"I'm not sure. I know it from somewhere, just not sure where. It's sort of a combination of the smell of the ocean, flowers, and fresh earth. But there's something else, something, uh, unpleasant. I noticed it on my jacket when I picked it up after, well, after what happened earlier. But it wasn't there before. I just wish I could place it." The odor was suddenly stronger, making Hutch gag. He clamped a hand over his mouth and hurried out of the room, MacAllister at his heels. As soon as he crossed the threshold, the smell was gone. Gasping for air, his eyes wide with realization, he stared at the Professor.
"God, I know what it is. A while back, Starsky and I were working a serial murder case. The victims were all buried near the ocean. There was one I remember vividly. The body had been there for awhile and when the forensic people opened the grave, that smell just about knocked me over. It stuck with me a long time. The wind was off the ocean and I could smell the salt. The killer would scatter flowers over the bodies before he buried them. It's the same smell as is in there. That combination of the awful smell of the grave and the good smells of the ocean. God!" Trying to compose himself, Hutch leaned against the wall.
MacAllister placed a hand on Hutch's shoulder. Looking up he saw that Starsky had come into the small hallway and was staring in concern at the two of them. Raising his hand to forestall anything that the dark haired man might say, he spoke quietly. "It's all right, David. Ken's just had a small shock. He's fine. Go back to where you were, we'll be right along." Starsky hesitated for a moment, torn between the desire to help his partner and the knowledge that he had to follow the Professor's orders. Hutch smiled at him and inclined his head, indicating that he was fine. His partner returned the smile and went back to stand next to Huggy.
The older man questioned further, "What happened with the case, Ken? Did you capture the killer?"
"Yes and no. We finally figured out who it was and actually caught him in the act of kidnapping another victim. But he shot at us and Starsky was forced to kill him. We never did find out how many people he actually killed. There was a report not long ago that another grave had been found, so who knows how many more there are out there?" Looking into that kindly face, he had to ask. "You don't think that this, this haunting has anything to do with that case do you? I mean, well, would it?" Hutch, shaken by the memories that the odor had brought back, tried to suppress the superstitious fear of the unknown that he had fought since seeing his jacket hovering over the bed.
Professor MacAllister cast about to find a comforting way to answer that question, but couldn't find one. "I don't know, son. Violence forges links between the parties involved. Meaning that David killed the man, and if, as it sounds, the man's spirit is one of hate and anger, it's very possible. It would also explain why it's been escalating its actions. And why it took the gun. Also it would explain why it turned on you. As David's partner and someone who was there when the man died, he would have recognized you as someone it hated. If we had time to study this, it would prove very interesting. But we don't have that time. We must get rid of or bind the spirit tonight." Clapping Hutch on the arm, MacAllister headed for the dining room. "Let's get started."
MacAllister and Hutch went back down the hall to the dining area. Hutch was to stand with Starsky and Huggy against the wall, MacAllister at the table. Huggy stood on Starsky's right, trying his best not to look as frightened as he felt. Hutch stood to Starsky's other side, their shoulders touching, both lending and gaining strength from that contact. He could feel the slight tremor of his friend's body as he watched the professor prepare for the ritual. Reaching down, he briefly squeezed Starsky's hand. Starsky glanced over at him, giving him a faint grin.
The professor was looking carefully over the objects on the table, giving one a slight nudge here, another a small twist there. Finally satisfied he began the ritual. Taking one of the lit candles from the table, he touched its flame to the other candles remaining on the table that he had arranged in a half circle around the edge of the cloth. Replacing the first candle, he took a small vial from his jacket pocket. Opening it, he sprinkled the contents into the incense burner and set it alight with the candle. Once again replacing the candle, he stood for a few moments with his eyes closed.
Opening his eyes MacAllister looked up at the three men across from him. Smiling gently, he gave them a final instruction. "Remember gentlemen, no matter what you see, hear or feel, make no sound. Do not react to anything I'm about to do. I assure you that I will do everything in my power to protect you. Just remain where you are." Waiting until all three nodded their understanding, he smiled again and began the ritual.
Picking up the knife, he pointed it at the ceiling, then at the floor. Then pointing it straight in front of him, he started to turn in a complete circle. He muttered a few words that none of the watching men could understand. Holding the knife in what could only be termed as a threatening manner MacAllister started to chant:
Spirits of evil,
Unfriendly beings
Unwanted guests, Begone!
Leave us, leave this place.
Go, or be cast into the outer darkness!
Go, or be drowned in the watery abyss!
Go, or be burned in the flames!
Go, of be torn by the whirlwind!
We banish you! We banish you! We banish you!
The three observers slowly became aware of a strange rumbling sound. At first, it was subliminal, then built jerkily to an almost earsplitting roar. Trying not to react in obvious fear, they huddled closer together, Starsky grabbing both Huggy's and Hutch's hands. They held onto each other riding out the storm.
MacAllister repeated the chant, changing a word here, adding a phrase there. Circling the table, he continued chanting, circling the perimeter of the living area his voice rose. The lights, already dim, flickered until Starsky was sure they were going to disappear altogether. A sudden wind blew through the rooms, guttering the candles until they almost, but not quite, went out. An animal-like screech tore across the howling of the wind, the deep rumbling that vibrated throughout the apartment. Then, suddenly, all sound ceased. The lights flickered again, then brightened. The ticking of the clock on the bookcase sounded loud in the quiet. When the fridge motor kicked in all three men jumped.
The sudden silence had unnerved the men more than all the noise that had gone before. Starsky opened his mouth to speak but remembered in time not to say a word. MacAllister continued chanting and circling for a few moments until he arrived back at the table. Putting the knife down, reverently, he picked up the bowl of water and the jar of crystals. Walking over to the waiting men, he offered the bowl to Starsky.
"David, I'll need your help in completing the ritual. Please take this bowl in your left hand." Starsky hesitantly reached out his hand. The professor smiled reassuringly at him and placed the bowl in the open palm. "Good, now take this jar in your right hand." Again, Starsky reached out a hand to have it filled. MacAllister held onto the jar for a moment while he took the lid off, which he handed to Hutch, before placing it gently in the outstretched hand. "Now David, please follow me."
Starsky looked questioningly at his two friends who could only shrug in answer. He turned and followed the Professor around the entire apartment. He watched in growing awareness as the older man first dipped his fingers of one hand in the water, sprinkle it along the baseboards, then take a pinch of the crystals in the other hand and sprinkle them. Completing the circlet of Starsky's home, the two of them arrived back at the table and the waiting Hutch and Huggy.
Taking first the bowl of water and then the jar away from Starsky, MacAllister placed them on the table. He picked up the knife again, said a few words in a language that none of the other men recognized then passed the blade through the thinning smoke from the incense burner. He laid the knife back on the table, then, dampening his fingertips in the water, pinched out each candle flame, again reciting unfamiliar words as each flame was snuffed out. Finally he put a cover over the burner and stepped back from the makeshift altar.
Once again, he smiled his benign smile at the men standing before him. "It's done, gentlemen. We have successfully bound the spirit."
Starsky was the first to speak. "Then it's gone?"
MacAllister's smile became consoling. "No, son, I'm afraid not. It's still here; I was only able to bind it. It was too strong to banish completely."
Hutch stepped up beside his partner. "So what does that mean, Professor? Is Starsky safe here?"
The older man shook is head sadly, "Yes and no. If nothing else violent happens here, then the spirit will remain bound. But I cannot guarantee that if something were to happen he wouldn't be able to break the bindings and come back. If he does, he will be stronger yet and that much more difficult to bind the next time. He may even become violent himself, especially towards you , David."
"So, what do I do now?" Starsky's voice was subdued.
"My best advice is to move as far away from this place as you can. The spirit is tied here, even if it finds it's way out of the bindings I've put on it, it can't leave on it's own. But it's here because, one, it was invited and two, you're here. Ken recognized the smell in your bedroom and told me of the man you killed who was responsible for all those other deaths. Because you killed him and because his spirit was already full of hate and violence he sought you out when given the opening. If he breaks free of the bindings and you're still here, he could attach himself to you and you would never be free of him until you either died or went insane. I'm sorry, David."
Starsky sighed and looked around at his home. "Aw, damn. Well, I guess if that's my only choice that's what I'll have to do. I was kinda tired of living here, anyway. Too far to drive to work." He grinned a sad little grin at Hutch. "Can I come and bunk at your place for a few days until I can find someplace else? I don't think I could sleep here knowing that that spook is lurking, waiting for the chance to get at me again."
Hutch put a comforting arm around his partner. "Of course, Starsk. As long as you don't put any of that stuff you call food in my fridge, you can stay as long as you need to."
"Gee, thanks. I can hardly wait for the bean sprout and sea kelp omelets."
Huggy glanced over at the bemused face of the professor. All he could offer was a shrug and a resigned smile. MacAllister simply shook his head and proceeded in packing away his ritual items.
****
Starsky's apartment was a scene of organized chaos. Almost a month had passed since the haunting and he had finally found another apartment that had the side benefit of being two miles closer to Hutch's new place. The one major drawback of Starsky's new place was that it was smaller than this one. This had brought about the necessity of going through his possessions one at a time deciding what to keep, what to put into storage and what to get rid of. Hutch had taken a few things, some odds and ends of artwork, and several plants. Huggy took the flashing sign, why Starsky wasn't sure, but he'd asked for it. He had given other friends some things too, but kept the most important items. His pottery, his books. Most of the things that Hutch had given him over the years. The bed went. He couldn't envision ever sleeping in it again after what had happened with Hutch's jacket. And there had been times since Bellamy when he had woken up shivering with the remembered fear of that night. Truth be told, he was glad of an excuse to be rid of it. He'd had to get rid of the couch and matching chairs too. They were too big for the new place, but he wouldn't part with the bamboo chair. It was something he'd had too long; it was going with him even if it ended up being the only piece of furniture in his new place.
Everything was almost ready. Some of the guys from the department had offered to move him with their pick-up trucks. The boxes were sealed and marked, the furniture mostly loaded, one truck going to the Salvation Army, one to Hutch's and the rest to his new place. People hurried to and fro, clearing out his apartment.
The trucks left for their first deliveries. Starsky was alone in the place for the first time that day. Standing in the middle of the empty living room, he looked around. He wasn't sure what he was feeling right then. Relief to be leaving this place with it's frightening memories. Not only of the haunting, but also of the night his life was almost taken away, of another time when a young woman he cared about was threatened. There were other times too, when his work followed him home and things could have turned out differently. But there had been lots of good times too. So many people over the years had passed through this place, friends, co-workers, lovers. Some he still saw. Some that had drifted away. Some that had even died. But they were good memories, mostly.
Tied up in the very walls of the place were some of the best memories. He wandered over to touch the blue door leading to the outside. Smiling to himself, he remembered the argument he and Hutch had over the color of the paint. Hutch thought Starsky was weird for wanting blue doors, Starsky showing him pictures of houses in San Francisco with colored doors. Even though Hutch argued at his most persuasive best, Starsky had won and got his blue doors. He'd miss them. Before they were finished painting the four doors and the shower, they were both covered in paint and had a bad case of the giggles.
Sighing, he turned his back on the door and went over to finish packing the last boxes. Lost in his melancholy thoughts he didn't hear the footsteps on the staircase.
***
Hutch stood in the doorway watching his partner. He was aware of how upset Starsky was. He could tell by the set of his friend's shoulders, the slow way he picked up each item and carefully wrapped it in newspaper. Hutch knew that this move was hard on Starsky. He remembered helping his partner move in. They had only been detectives for three months when Starsky found this place. Before that, he'd been living in a one-room basement apartment in somebody's house and hating it. But with the bigger paycheck that came with the rank of detective, he could afford better digs. It took some searching, but they both recognized that this was the perfect place the minute the rental agent opened the door. Hutch knew that to leave this apartment after all these years, especially under the circumstances, hurt Starsky badly.
***
Starsky turned and saw Hutch watching him. A quick smile from his partner and the tension seemed to ease itself out of his shoulders. Starsky could face just about anything with the help of his friend. They would build new memories, good memories. His new apartment, and Hutch's, were only empty spaces waiting to be filled. Space that wasn't nearly as important as what filled them and between the two of them, he knew that they would fill the new ones with laughter and good memories. But most important, they would fill those empty spaces with love.