Dancing with the Dead ✔

Chapter Twenty-Four - Needle in a Haystack

"He's not here! I'm telling you I wouldn't mistake a perfect looking guy like him in a million years!" I say, frustrated.

Lucas glances at me with an irritated—if not a bit jealous—look.

"Well, look again! He must've been here somewhere, right?" He turns to his right, talking to air while I know he intends to talk to his sister. I put my hand around his chin and turn his head in the opposite direction.

"She's over here." I refer to his left.

"Oh." Even with the dim light around us, I can tell his cheeks flustered. "Now, look again! Just take your time, I'm sure he's here somewhere!" he tries to change the subject.

I grunt. "Fine!"

Earlier, the detective had this 'bright idea' to search for John's photo in the twins' yearbook. He insists that they must've met John in school; hence his photo must've been in the school's yearbook. But even after looking at each of the hundreds of photos once more, neither I nor June can find John's photo.

"This guy! Is it this guy?" Lucas says, pointing at a boy wearing a scary grin in one of the twins' school field trip photos, "He sure looks like he could grow up to be a serial killer."

His opinion—although true—makes me want to slap him in the head. I manage to get a hold of myself though, throwing a sharp gaze instead. "For your information, John looks exactly the opposite of this."

He shrugs. "Well... I was just saying..." 

While I continue to flip the pages, Lucas lets out a deep sigh. "All this would be a lot easier if Mr. P was still alive..."

His words catch my attention. I stop observing and turn towards the man. "Mr. P?"

"Yeah, Mr. Papadopoulos. You remember him, right?"

"Sure, but what does anything have to do with Mr. P?" 

I gasp, all of a sudden having a crazy thought across my mind. "Don't tell me he can see ghosts, too!"

Lucas rebuffs my theory with a pout and a set of judging eyes.

"Oh... Guess that's impossible, huh?" I flash a guilty smile before returning my gaze to the book I'm holding.

"He was our unofficial sketch artist, Doc," he explains. "What I mean is, if only he was still alive, you could've described John's appearance, have him draw it and then maybe someone would recognize him."

"Oh! That's... actually a great idea," I mutter under my breath, a bit surprised and largely disappointed at myself of how I didn't actually think of that before. "So, why don't we just go and ask someone else? There must be another sketch artist, right?"

Instead of a smile that I was hoping for, in the corner of my eyes I can see him biting his lower lip and looking frustrated instead. "Yes, there are. But how am I supposed to explain to Captain Morris how you know John? She won't believe any of these for sure! Now if only Mr. P was here, that's a different story."

"How so?"

"Well... he's unofficial for a reason. Sometimes, we—detectives—get leads by rather 'unusual' methods. Cap doesn't always agree with them and that's when we go to Mr. P. He didn't ask too many questions. In short, we can trust him," he explains.

"Ah..." I mumble, slightly disappointed.

"Well, then, I'm afraid we're stuck with me and her," my head gestures to the little girl sitting next to me. "Now, June, think again," I say as I flip a page. "Where else did you ever go? Summer camp, maybe?"