Ways to See a Ghost

Norman Welkin’s death. He sent off all these emails to his UFO friends, and he was on the computer all the time. Then, he got to use ‘The Database’.
    Honestly, that’s how he says it, like he’s in MI6 or something.
    One of the super-freaks, this bloke called Stu Bradley, looks after The Database. Not that Dad ever calls him Stu, he always says, “The Keeper”. Stu wouldn’t even come to our house until after dark, which meant it was eight at night before he turned up.
    “A dark green Volvo, that’s what we’re looking for.”
    Dad stood at the side of the window, like someone was watching us, and twitched his head to look every time a car went by. In the end this boxy old Volvo pulled up outside, really knackered, and Stu peered out. When he’d checked up and down our street, he ran for the house clutching a bag, the hood on his coat pulled right up.
    He was really old, fifty or something, with long grey hair and grey stubble all over his chin. He didn’t look special; you’d never notice him on the street or anything. Except for his cigarette stink. He smelled like an ashtray, and his teeth were this nasty brown from all the fags. As soon as he got inside, he lit up a cigarette, and Dad never even stopped him. The house filled up with smoke, not that Dad cared.
    “Is that it?” he asked, nodding at the bag.
    ‘Stu the Keeper’ didn’t say anything, just frowned at me.
    “Don’t worry about Gray,” said Dad. “He can hold his tongue.”
    Stu the Keeper glared at me even harder.
    “You can’t tell
anyone
,” he rasped. “Not what you see on The Database. And nothing the government could use to identify me.” I nodded, trying to keep a straight face.
    A stinkometer, that’s what they could use. Or a dog. A dog could smell him from miles off.
    Stu the Keeper turned to Dad.
    “Have you unplugged all phones and electrical appliances? Are you disconnected from the Internet?”
    “Yes,” said Dad. “And we can go in the bathroom – it doesn’t have any windows.”
    Like I said, they’re pretty far gone with all this stuff.
    “Perfect,” said Stu.
    So we went in the bathroom. Stu sat on the toilet, me and Dad perched on the side of the bath. The extractor fan hummed away, which was lucky because we’d all have got lung cancer otherwise. I mean, who smokes in a bathroom?
    Stu opened up the big bag, took out a laptop and set it carefully on his knees. While he was waiting for it to start up, he turned to my dad.
    “How’s your work going? Got any further with your MDLP?” That stands for mobile disambiguated luminescent phenomena. Seriously. He meant the massive light sphere I told you about.
    Dad nodded. “Yes, I have as a matter of fact. I’ve been doing some calculations based on the readings, and I think I’ve worked out the base preconditions, which means I should be able to predict any reappearance with only a ten per cent margin of error. I can go and get my notes if you like…”
    Stu held up his hand. “One thing at a time. I’m here with The Database tonight.” He nodded at the screen, where a small search form was flashing. “There she is.”
    “All right,” said my dad, rubbing his hands together. “I’m after unusual deaths. But not mutilations.”
    Stu put his fag out in the sink, held his fingers over the keypad, and started typing.
    The Database is a big list of all the weird things any of the UFO freaks have ever heard of, put into different categories. They think it’s really secret, but half the stuff’s on YouTube. My film of the sky-sphere is in there.
    It was pretty boring once they got going, and smoky, so I went out and made cups of tea for them, and a hot chocolate for me. When I got back, they had the laptop on the toilet seat, and they were both kneeling on the bath mat in front of it. Dad took the cups of tea, and put them down in the bath.
    “Check this out, Gray!” he said, pointing at the laptop. “I told you it wasn’t just a heart attack.”
    Stu shook his head at me.
    “You should never believe the police, Gray. They work for the government, don’t they?” He pointed at the screen, where a list of results was sitting on the page.“There are seventeen other unusual deaths with a strong resemblance to the one you discovered.” He lowered his voice. “Seventeen.”
    I looked over his shoulder, reading the list. I pointed at one of the entries.
    Death of elderly man in North Wales. Natural causes. Police report notes the weather