Ambergris: A Storm at a Funeral

The cemetery rested on the top of a hill overlooking the town below. The morning mist gave way to dark clouds accompanied by a light rain. By midmorning, the rain had become a steady downpour under a black sky. Grey Walker parked his SUV behind the couple's sedan. He watched them head to the gravesite before stepping out of the vehicle and following. He knew that Amber was already there keeping an eye on the mourners and looking out for trouble.

A large tent had been raised over the gravesite. Lanterns had been hung beneath the canopy to provide a reasonable amount of light. The minister of the church stood clutching his Bible while awaiting the arrival of the attendees. The couple from the diner took a seat near the recently orphaned boy. He was about ten years old. Amber stood across from him shifting her weight uneasily. She detested funerals. Humans were so overly sentimental toward the deceased, so unwilling to speak ill of the dead.

There were no holes dug. There were no caskets to bury. The headstone had already been set, ready to receive the ashes of each of the deceased. Grey found the arrangements disconcerting. Normally ashes would be placed in urns to be buried and not placed inside the gravestone. Equally disturbing was the distance being kept by the locals. Only the minister's wife and his aunt and uncle sat with the boy. No one stood behind him. The townsfolk in attendance stood in a semi-circle outside the tent forming a cluster of black umbrellas. Occasionally, a hand would reach out to pull Amber back into the safety of the gathered onlookers, but she wasn't afraid and wrestled free.

Amber took a seat across from the boy and stared into the black pools of his eyes. Something had taken hold of him. Grey soon joined her, propping his umbrella against the empty chair to his left. "There's no one else coming," she whispered toward the minister. "Start the burial." The minister started by reading Psalm Twenty-three from his leatherbound Bible. He spoke about how devoted the couple were to each other and how they were loving parents to their son. Amber kept her eyes on the boy throughout the entire ceremony.

After the all the ashes were poured into the holes in the headstone and the last rose laid on the top of the gravestone, people started to offer their condolences on their way out of the cemetery. Amber and Grey stood and waited until the last of the townsfolk had left. Grey approached the couple. "Mr. and Mrs. Lawrence, I'm sorry for your loss."

"Thank you," Mr. Lawrence replied with a firm grip on Grey's hand. "I get the feeling that I've seen you somewhere before."

"Last night, at the diner," Grey answered. "My name is Grey Walker, I'm a private investigator. I was there with my associate, Amber Gray. She was worried about you. Woman's intuition. Sometimes her inklings turn out to be real." Grey paused before asking, "I'm curious, why cremation? In cases of sudden death, there is usually an autopsy to determine the cause."

Mr. Lawrence turned to the minister hoping for an answer. "Well, there wasn't much choice really. The Andersons had died in a fire. Their bodies were badly charred. Cremation seemed only natural."

Amber smiled. She stepped forward and hugged the boy tightly. Inside his head, he was fighting off demons. "If he only knew," Amber thought. Amber struggled to make sense of it all, but nothing seemed to be happening in any particular order. There had been a fire. His parents had died. He had been spending the night at a friend's house while his parents were out of town. On their way back home, they had stopped at the diner for some dessert, then settled in for the night at the motel. Somehow, he had witnessed all this. At the moment, it was his waking nightmare, along with facing an uncertain future.

Amber had already searched Room 101. Her curiosity had been piqued by Grey speculating that the room belonged to the night manager. The smell of smoke still lingered in the air. There were no signs of accelerant nor fire suppressant in the room. No signs of water or powder. The fire snuffed itself out as mysteriously as it ignited. Amber needed to get her hands on the ashes. The answers were there as to whether the boy or something else was responsible for the fire.

"We should go," Amber suggested. "The guests are waiting at the house. They have set up a meal for the family."

"Yes, we really should be going," Mr. Lawrence agreed. The minister's wife quietly herded the boy along to their car. Amber and Grey followed the Lawrences back to their car. As soon as Grey had cleared the gate, Amber returned to the grave and stuck her hand into the ashes. Although the day's rain had lessened, a deluge of hail and lighting struck the ground around the small tent. The anger was unmistakable, but the source still remained a mystery. Still, she had managed to glean some answers before deciding to make herself scarce.

Ambergris: A Night at a Motel

The Wayside Inn was a small motel just down the road from the diner. It had ten rooms, three of which had been rented out for the night. Grey parked the SUV beneath the carport in front of the rental office and went inside. The night manager had just handed him the room key when Amber entered. "I thought I told you to wait in the car," he said without turning to face her.

"I'm bored," she said while looking over some brochures advertising local attractions. "And I'm hungry."

"You just ate," Grey stated. "Now get back in the car. I have our room key. You can watch television." Turning to the night manager, he intoned, "Please tell me there's a TV in the room. It's one of the few distractions that keep her out of trouble." The night manager nodded and Grey smiled, "Thank you."

Grey sighed with relief when he settled into the driver's seat. "You should not have gone in there. There's something about the night manager. I can't quite put my finger on it."

Grey backed the SUV into the space in from of room 106 and shut off the engine. He opened the hatch and grabbed the bags while Amber opened the door from inside the room. While he placed the luggage on the racks provided, she plopped down on the bed closest to the door. By the time he was done using the bathroom, she was sound asleep. He pulled the quilt off his bed and covered her with it before going outside for a walk.

Rooms 108 and 109 had been rented out to the hunters. Both men were busy preparing their guns for the early morning hunt while a porn movie played in the background. The men had decidedly different tastes when it came to sexual fantasies. Grey smiled. He wondered if Room 108 knew that Room 109 was into gay porn. Not that it mattered. After confirming that Room 110 was vacant, he started to walk back toward the rental office. Along the way, he checked in on his sleeping partner.

Grey stopped at Room 103. He was tempted to knock, but couldn't think of a good reason for doing so. He pressed his ear against the window to the room and listened. What he heard convinced him that they were busy making their own porn and he moved on. He stood for several minutes outside Room 101. The front windows had been painted black. He walked around to the back of the building. The bathroom window had also been painted black. A square of plywood had been jammed against the window where a corner of the glass had been broken. Grey walked down the length of the building, quickly examining each bathroom window as he walked past. Satisfied that the motel was relatively secure, he went back to his room.

In the early morning hours, Grey startled awake from a noise outside. He rose from the chair where he had slept and ran outside. "If I were you, I'd put her down - gently - and apologize."

"I caught this creature leaving the room. Who knows what mischief she was up to." The night manager slowly lowered Amber to the ground and loosened his grip around her neck.

Amber smiled. "Apology not necessary. I was just making sure that nothing had snuck into the adjoining rooms. The couple are all nicely tucked in. No sign of trouble, just the seem sense of foreboding. I don't think their trouble is here, despite Freddy being a bloodsucker."

"Freddy?" Grey turned to the night manager.

"Freidrich Miller," the night manager replied.

"I take it you live, so to speak, in Room 101 during the day?"

"I also don't prey on my guests," he replied.

Amber stared at the mist rolling out of the forest. "I may have spoken too soon." Her amber eyes focused on a large shadow hidden in the mist. "What is that?"

The night manager laughed. "That is an old friend, a shadow-walker."

"I feel like I've fallen into a children's game." Amber sang, "One of these things is not like the others..." 

"...One of these things just doesn't belong." Grey found himself finishing the lyrics. "That would be you."

A large black bear emerged from the mist. The sound of a pump-action shotgun being cocked drew everyone's attention. Before the owner could fire, Amber was standing in front of him, speaking in a strange tone. "This is a dream. There is no bear. You will go back to your room and put away your gun. Then you will settle into your bed. You will not remember the dream when you wake up. Now go." As the hunter turned and left, the black bear slowly melted into a raven-haired woman. 

"Justine Blackbear owns the motel. I work for her," Freddy explained to Grey. Turning to face Justine, "how was the party?"

"No one died," she sighed before continuing, "I should have left last night. I hate sleeping on a couch." Nodding toward Grey, "who's the day-walker?"

"My name is Grey Walker. And, yes, my last name is actually Walker. I'm a private investigator on my way home, or I was until I got side-tracked. Amber, my companion, sensed that a young couple was in danger."

"Ah, the imp." Justine smiled. "She's one of the good ones?"

Ambergris: A Stop at a Diner

Grey Walker had been driving since sunset with his partner asleep in the back seat. It had been a long day for both of them, but he wasn't worn out. Still, he thought he could use a cup of coffee. He pulled off the highway at the first sign of a place to eat. As he slowed, he could hear Amber stirring in the back seat. "Where are we?" she asked as she sat up and rubbed her eyes.

"At Chet's Diner," Grey replied as he drove the SUV into the parking lot. "I need a cup of coffee and you could do with some grub."

"Grub?" Amber replied. "Oh, you mean food." Amber sighed. "Fine," she said while pulling on her white leather walking shoes.

Grey backed the SUV into a space near the door and shut off the engine. A quick glance at the rear view mirror let him know that Amber had already left. "Just once," he muttered to himself, "I'd like her to use a door like a normal human being." But she wasn't one, not anymore than he was. But at least he made the effort to act human, to pass the sniff test so to speak.

Amber was busy playing with the locks on the door when he arrived at the top of the three steps at the diner entrance. "Stop that," he chided. "Let's go inside, and leave the locks how you found them."

"Unlocked, it is," she replied as she pulled open the door. "I hope they have hot apple pie." After following Grey inside, she added, "and raspberry ice cream."

"Behave yourself. No ordering anything that isn't on the menu. And no leering, lusting, or whatever." Grey felt uncomfortable the moment he crossed the threshold. He smiled at the waitress before choosing a booth with a good view of the place. The diner was larger than it looked from the outside. Maybe it was a matter of perspective, but Grey wasn't taking any chances. "Amber, I want you to take a good hard look around us and tell me what you see."

Amber smiled, recognizing his code for using her special sight. She turned her attention toward the other customers. "The two men in the dining room are hunters. They didn't get anything today and are discussing their plans for tomorrow. Their truck is parked to the side of the building. There are several shotguns and rifles locked inside. The couple in the other booth are on their way to a funeral. She's pregnant, as of last night, but doesn't know it yet. They've been trying for years, but couldn't afford the treatments. They are discussing taking in their orphaned relative, wondering how hard it will be for them to get custody of the boy."

"What about the people who work here?" 

"They are good souls, but they are worried about us for some reason. We are the odd couple. They know you have a gun on you and are wondering if you are here to rob the place. There's a gun near the register and the cook has a shotgun in the kitchen. I think we should order food when the waitress finally shows up."

Grey never ceased to be amazed by Amber's ability to see things in their entirety, to grasp the whole of a situation. He set down his menu and turned over the coffee cup that had been sitting on the place mat, signaling that he was ready to order. Amber had done the same, adding two packets worth of sugar before the coffee was poured.

Grey settled for the burger platter, which included a side of fries and a pickle. Amber ordered breakfast, scrapple and eggs with a side of pancakes. After coating everything in maple syrup, she quickly devoured the meal. Still hungry, she ordered some apple pie a la mode, settling for vanilla ice cream and raspberry sauce. She took her time with dessert, savoring every bite. She would have licked the plate when she finished, but a look from Grey was enough to stop her.

Amber followed Grey as he walked to the register to pay for the meal. She stopped at the booth where the couple had been. Their dishes had not been cleared away. When her fingertips touched the tabletop, a sense of foreboding hit her. Dark shadows stalked the couple at the motel where they were staying. She met Grey at the door on the way out. Once outside, she slipped into the front passenger seat. "We need to check into that motel just down the road. People there need our help."

"I see that you are feeling better," Grey remarked as he started the engine. Amber smiled as they pulled out of the restaurant lot and headed down the road to the Wayside Inn.