“You know who murdered you?” Trevor and Spion blurted out in unison.
“Yes, but he left that day. I don’t know what happened to him. After I died, this place had fewer and fewer guests. Wieven told me I shouldn’t show up to every guest,” Richard said, then his lips curling into a perfectly naughty smile, “they might get scared.”
“Who is Wieven?” Spion asked.
“A witch. She died here more than three hundred years ago.”
“A witch ghost? Where is she now?” Trevor asked, fascinated.
“She’s around somewhere. You can’t see her because she doesn’t think you’re worth the effort.”
“Seriously, how many ghosts are in this place?” Spion asked, confused by the sheer volume of paranormal activity.
“You would never want to know,” Richard smirked.
“I just hope the Ambassador isn’t here,” Spion said seriously.
“You mean that disgusting guy who died from eating an apple? He’s not in here. Wieven disliked him, so she drove him away.”
“Glad to know that,” Spion sighed in relief.
“Well, does Wieven know why this uncle tried to poison you?” Trevor asked with curiosity.
“No. She’s just a ghost, not an omniscient god,” Richard replied, looking at Trevor as if his question was truly stupid.
Spion grabbed his phone. “Rich, what’s this Uncle Barsky’s full name? Maybe we can search him online.”
“My dad called him Phil.” Richard said, sitting on the ground beside Spion and looking at his phone screen.
Trevor searched on his EMF too. “There are two links related to your death. One is a digital version of a magazine from 2003, which mentions two deaths in 1962. The other is a digital version of a local newspaper two days after your death, which only describes your death and says the police were still working on it.”
“I found something!” Spion exclaimed. “A declassified document on the FIA website. Philip Barsky was a former FIA agent, sentenced to death for murder and treason on January 16th, 1963. That’s all.”
“Oh, he died. I think my dad knew it was him,” Richard said.
“Find any more reports about him?” Trevor asked.
“No, I think most documents still remain classified. But you’re right, Rich. Your dad probably reported him to the FIA, and they investigated your death and confirmed Barsky’s crimes,” Spion concluded.
“But I still don’t know why,” Richard said, disappointed.
“Don’t worry. We can help you solve the case,” Trevor tried to cheer him up.
“Yeah, we can solve it. We’re actually really smart,” Spion echoed. “Do you remember any details from those days, when you stayed here with your dad? Did Barsky come with you?”
“No, he was not with us. I remember clearly: my dad seemed surprised to see him here. We arrived one morning and met him when we checked in. He said he was on vacation and wanted to buy clothes and gifts for his wife and son in this city.”
“What a coincidence,” Trevor mused. “Did your dad close to him? Did they have any conflicts?”
“No. We only knew him for less than a year, back when Dad transferred to the FIA and worked with him, but he did invite us to his family’s Thanksgiving once.”
“I think it must be related to FIA missions,” Spion jumped in. “Your dad must have discovered something about him, so Barsky wanted to kill you both to silence him. Think about it: they were both FIA agents, and Barsky was sentenced to death for treason just a few months after your death.”
“Hmm, I think you are sort of smart,” Richard nodded.
“Makes sense,” Trevor said, resting his chin in his hand. “Rich, what happened after you met this Barsky?”
“We had lunch with him, then Dad took me to walk around—to a park, and we watched a movie.”
“So your dad brought you here for a vacation, not for an FIA mission?” Spion clarified.
“Yes, because it was my tenth birthday. We planned to stay in the city for five days, but I died on the third day.”
“Did you meet Barsky again? Did he come with you the next day?” Trevor asked.
“No. The next day we went to the zoo and a carnival. I still remember there were some creepy creatures in the carnival, and a boring haunted house. I miss those days,” Richard said, lowering his head.
“Wow, you’re really brave—not afraid of creepy creatures or a haunted house,” Trevor exclaimed, sliding onto the floor to face Richard.
“I told you, I fear nothing! I never shudder for anything. It’s my ability,” Richard stressed, happy again.
“Impressive,” Trevor said.
“So Barsky never walked around with you and your dad. Was there any moment just your dad and Barsky discussing something?” Richard shook his head. Spion continued, “Any strange thing your dad told you? Or any strange thing about Barsky you noticed?”
“We met Uncle Barsky again the night of the second day, but only for a short talk. He wanted to invite us to take a boat tour, but Dad declined. The next morning, Dad went out to make a call, and Barsky knocked on the door. I shouldn’t have listened to him. Dad told me not to open the door until he came back. But Uncle Barsky said he brought a chocolate for my birthday, so I opened the door.” Richard frowned, upset by the memory.
“Hey, you couldn’t have known that,” Trevor reassured him.
“Your dad must have noticed something. Any strange thing happen on the second day?” Spion asked again.
“Yes… yes, there was a death,” Richard said slowly, his translucent figure seeming to grow brighter as he focused on the past. Trevor and Spion raised their eyebrows, shocked. Richard continued, “The first night, when we came back from the theater, we saw many policemen in the hotel. People said a body was found in the forest nearby. The next morning, we went out, and Dad bought a newspaper. He saw the report about the death, then he suddenly rushed me back to the hotel. He asked the manager if any other guests from the Red Union lived here or were booked to arrive later. He said he had an appointment with a businessman from the Red Union. The manager said no, the only guest from the Red Union was the one who was murdered.”
“The Red Union, FIA, Cold War time,” Spion synthesized the facts. “I think your dad had a mission. He was supposed to meet an informant from the Red Union, but the informant was murdered.”
“And it happened that another FIA agent who probably knew your dad’s mission but shouldn’t be here was also at the hotel,” Trevor realized too. “This Barsky is the prime suspect for murdering the informant. He might have been afraid of being exposed, so he wanted to kill you both to silence your dad.”
“That’s it! That must be the reason!” Spion exclaimed, excited.
But Richard didn’t seem satisfied with their conclusion. “It’s all just your speculation. You have no proof.”