I MUST HAVE READ the back of Miles Ruck-man’s business card a dozen times as we left Heather’s apartment and raced down the stairwell.
“Anders was sending a message to the other world,” Heather said over her shoulder. “The message was ‘Hi everybody. Wish you were here.’ And Ruckman was supposed to deliver it.”
“But he dropped the card,” I replied.
“Right! So you believe me?”
“Maybe. I don’t know.”
We pushed through the door to the eighth floor.
Anders lived in 8B. I pressed the doorbell.
“Rrraoogllf,” crackled a voice from inside.
“Mr. Persson?” I shouted. “It’s David Moore. Alan’s son?”
The door opened a crack and a bloodshot eye peered out. “Yeah?” Anders said.
“Did you lose this?” I handed him the business card.
He looked at it briefly. “Nope.”
The door began to shut, but I stuck my foot in the opening.
“What about the other side?” Heather said.
I turned the card over and pointed to the handwritten message. “You wrote this, didn’t you?”
“So?” Anders growled.
“Miles Ruckman dropped it,” Heather said. “What did the message mean? ‘Hi everybody, wish you were here’? Where was he taking it?”
“To his office,” Anders replied. “Now, go away.”
“But he’s gone, isn’t he?” Heather asked. “And you’ve been to his empty apartment.”
“I will call the guardians!” Anders cried out.
“Did he shuffle off his mortal coil?” Heather blurted out. “Like you wanted David’s dad to do?”
Anders let his door slowly open. A thick, musty smell wafted out of the apartment, like old socks and moldy potatoes. “Shakespeare,” he muttered. “How do you know—?”
Heather poked me in the ribs. “Tell him where you found the card, David.”
“In the Granite Street station,” I said. “On the platform.”
“What were you doing there?” Anders asked.
“That was where Miles Ruckman dropped it,” Heather replied.
“A few days ago, while I was riding the train home, it stopped there,” I explained. “The platform was full. Clean and all lit up. With posters on the wall. Miles Ruckman was in the car. But when the door opened, he walked out. He was holding the card, as if he wanted to give it to someone. Then the door closed and the train took off. And…and I saw my dad.”
Anders’s restless eyes were now steady and bright. “You saw your dad. And on your way to him you picked up Ruckman’s card.”
“No. I stayed on the train. I picked up the card on another trip.”
“Another trip…” Anders looked from me to Heather.
Heather was grinning with triumph. “So? Talk to us?”
Anders let out a giggle. Then, in a sudden burst, it became a loud, wild cackle. “You must think I’m awfully stupid.”
With that, he slammed the door shut.