Free The Grim Spectre by Ralph L. Angelo Jr. Page A

fellow you hired to take care of your, ahem, ‘haunting’ problem, Sir.”
    “Oh, why didn’t you say so, Oscar? Send him right in.”
    Oscar turned smartly and walked away, returning a few seconds later with the priest, now carrying his large hat in his hands before him respectfully.
    Zeus turned toward his manservant and said, “Leave us, Oscar. I’ll call you if I need you.”
    Oscar rolled his eyes and replied, “Very well, Sir, as if I do not know what transpires in this house and behind these walls.” Then he turned and left; closing the parlor doors behind him.
    “So?” Phylo Zeus began, “Is it done? Is the ghost dead?”
    “Not…quite, Master Zeus.”
    “What do you mean, ‘Not quite’? I sent you to do a job, and that job was to rid me of a pain in the ass ghost. What happened?”
    “We fought, I had him down using a blessed blade and then he disappeared, as if he was never there.”
    “He’s a friggin’ghost; that’s what they do. What’d you expect him to do? Lie there and wait fer you ta kill him? Or whatever it is you were gonna do to him?”
    Zeus stood up and threw his hands in the air. Then he walked to a liquor cabinet and poured himself a glass of bourbon. He offered one to the Priest, but the man waved him off before saying, “No hard liquor for me, Sir. Perhaps some wine if you have it?”
    “I don’t. It’s not on my regular menu. Look Padre,” he replied with more than a hint of exasperation, “go out there and find this spook and send him back to hell or wherever he came from. Do it clean and do it soon. I doubt this guy’s gonna be around tonight if you put a hurtin’ on him. But stick around and be ready to hear from me. Go back to the hotel I’m puttin’ you up in and stay near there so the desk clerk can call you if I send for ya, got it?”
    The Priest nodded, his eyes finally leaving the floor and looking at his employer.
    Relax, Padre, I’m not that kinda boss. I ain’t gonna kill ya for screwin’ up, at least not the first time. Now get outta here.”
    The Priest nodded and bowed, then turned and left, reciting a prayer as he walked past Oscar and out the door of the mansion with a curt nod to the butler.
    Oscar turned back toward Zeus, who had followed his guest to the front door, and said, “Strange fellow. He seems a tad…peculiar. Was he truly a man of the cloth at some point?”
    Zeus shrugged as he took a drink from his glass, “Supposedly he is or was. Somethin’ happened with him becoming overzealous with an exorcism or something like that. He was forced out of his order afterward, but still claims to be doing God’s work. I figured he’d be perfect for this job.”
    “Hhmm, indeed he may be. To battle a purported ghost says much of one’s mental state alone, I believe.”
    “Ahhh, don’t think too hard about it, Oscar ol’ boy. You’ll pop a friggin’ blood vessel.”
    “Believe me, Phylo, that was not my intention at all.”
    “Good, now go get me another bourbon an’ make it snappy.”
    He handed the empty glass to Oscar and watched the mans annoyed reaction as he turned and walked back to the parlor.
    “Sometimes I wonder why I keep the old guy around,” Zeus mused aloud.
    “Because without me,” Oscar’s voice replied from the adjacent room, “you wouldn’t know where you put your slippers every morning and you’d sleep in an unkempt bed for the rest of your days.”
    Oscar appeared before Zeus, exiting the parlor with a fresh drink in his hand, with a derisive snort Zeus swallowed the entire contents of the glass in one gulp and said, “Getting to be ya can’t get good help anywhere these days, especially one without a smart mouth.”
    “Best to have a trustworthy assistant with a smart mouth, than one too ignorant to do his job correctly,” the older man replied drolly.
    “Really smart guy? An’ just what is your job, in your mind anyway?” Zeus turned with more than a hint of anger in his eyes.
    “Watching your