The landlord stared at the photograph intently, his eyebrows furrowed, his thick fingers feeling its texture. He seemed to be trying to peer into something beyond the physical object he was holding.

“I don’t feel anything,” he said after a brief pause, somewhat anticlimactically.

“That’s to be expected,” Isaiah answered. “As you know, the ability to sense spiritual phenomena is quite rare. As someone who does not possess this ability, the only way you would feel something is if you were the person that the lingering spirit was addressing. If you don’t feel anything, that’s already an important clue for me.”

“Clue?” the landlord said inquisitively, hunching forward.

“I decided to take it on myself to solve this case. To find out who this spirit was, how they died, and to set them free. My last case before going into the Great Beyond of retirement.”

“I don’t think your husband would be all too happy with that,” the landlord whispered semi-loudly.

“I’m not!” Nigel bellowed cheerfully from the kitchen. “But I love him!”

The large man laughed loudly, filling the room.

“Well, I think this is all very interesting!” he said excitedly. “Like I’ve suddenly been dragged into the plot of a mystery novel!”

“Yes, well,” Isaiah began to steer the conversation onto the desired track. “This is why I called you today. I was hoping you could answer some questions for me, seeing as you’re currently the owner of the photo. It will help me a lot if you cooperate.”

“So, an interrogation?” the landlord said with barely concealed glee.

“It’s more of an interview, since you’re not a suspect.”

“Ah, true true, makes sense,” he nodded. “Of course, dear boy, I’ll answer to the best of my ability! Fire away.”

Isaiah opened his notebook, glanced over his notes briefly, and then turned to his interviewee.

“Mr. Hudge…” he began somewhat hesitantly.

“Bubba will do.”

“Alright, Bubba. First of all, can you tell me a bit about the circumstances of the photo? Where and when it was taken, things like that.”

“Ah, of course,” Bubba nodded, suddenly taking a more serious tone, like an enthusiastic child trying to play his role perfectly. “My memory’s obviously getting a little spotty these days, but this was taken… I was fifteen, so that would make it exactly fifty years ago. We were standing in front of the entrance to our school, Gresham Barlow Academy.”

“It’s an all-boys school?”

“That it is. For boys whose daddies have deep pockets if you know what I mean.”

“Right,” Isaiah jotted down a few lines. “Now, let me just confirm this: you found this photo in school?”

“Yes, that’s correct,” Bubba leaned back, crossing his hands over his chest. “Me and the lads were walking into an empty classroom where we had our next lesson and I just noticed it on one of the desks.”

“You have no idea who left it?”

“None, I’m afraid. It could have been literally anyone.”

“I thought as much, but it didn’t hurt to ask,” Isaiah said and sighed. “Alright, now I would like to tell you a few things about this spirit. It’s a young man, aged 15 to 35 if I were to take a guess. He’s repeating ‘I miss you’, and the lingering emotions strongly suggest that he’s addressing someone he was really close to in life. With that in mind, I would now like to ask you some questions about your classmates.”

Bubba nodded, and Isaiah proceeded.

“Firstly, and I’m sorry if I’m putting this a little too bluntly, but has anyone in this photo died while they were in the age range that I mentioned?”

“Heh,” Bubba hunched forward to look at the photo closely. “No need to apologize. You’ll see yourself when you get to my age: death stops feeling like this huge terror looming over your future and more like a natural part of life. You sort of start embracing it,” he said pensively, in stark contrast to his usually ebullient persona.

“Let’s see,” he started scanning the rows of uniformed boys left to right. “Well, the one that comes right to mind is Harlan Douglas. Him, right there,” he pointed to a light-haired boy in the first row, with uncharacteristically dark and strong facial hair for someone aged fifteen. “Puberty did a real number on him, eh?”

“Can you tell me about his death?” Isaiah pressed.

“Eh…” Bubba sighed heavily. “Harlan had a heart of gold, but his parents done and screwed him up for life. They were building him up from the day he was born to be a doctor, and he was constantly buckling under pressure. He seemed to be doing better after graduation, he really did. I went to his wedding you know. Wonderful lass that wife of his, what was her name… Something to do with royalty…” he stroked his chin.

“Princess? No, that can’t be it…” he kept thinking. “Queenie, that’s it. Poor Queenie Douglas. You could see it in her eyes, she loved every inch of him. And he seemed happy, for the first time ever. I thought ‘well it’s finally starting to look up for the guy.’ Then one day he just killed himself and that was the end of that.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Isaiah said, his eyes frowning.

“As was I,” Bubba added, his voice once again growing hushed and solemn. “Guess he was still hurting even then. He just got better at hiding it.”

Silence took over for a few minutes. Bubba seemed like he needed some time to rearrange his thoughts, and Isaiah didn’t want to push him. He wrote down everything though. Harlan Douglas seemed like an obvious early candidate to be the lingering spirit.

“As far as anyone else dying before their time,” Bubba continued, “I’ve no recollection. But I do think there’s a few more things that you might need to hear. One of these people went missing.”

Isaiah raised his eyebrows as his landlord’s finger hovered over a tall, skinny lad in the back row, his hair a mess of dark locks.

“Ezra Rowse. Of the well-known Strona Rowses. The thing is, none of us were particularly close to him. He liked to keep to himself.”

“And you say he went missing?”

“Yes, just didn’t show up in class one day and was never heard from again. It was all over the newspapers when it happened, his dad was a pretty big deal here in Strona.”

“Any idea what might have happened to him?”

“Sorry, m’boy,” Bubba just shook his head. “Like I said, I didn’t really know him, and neither did anyone else. I think he had this one friend that he spent all his time with, but that guy wasn’t in our class. I wish I could tell you more.”

“Not at all, what you’ve given me is very useful,” Isaiah said as he made more notes. This trail seemed potentially worth following as well – after all, the fact that Ezra Rowse was never found after fifty years implied something darker lurking underneath the surface.

“Also, there’s him,” Bubba said, pointing to a short, meek looking boy with a bowl cut who seemed to have trouble fitting into the single-sized school uniform.

“Milo Bax. I’ve literally no clue what happened to him. None of us do. Nobody ever saw him after we graduated. He never appeared at any of the anniversary meetings, never got in touch with any of us, nothing. It’s like he disappeared into thin air.”

“Did you have any sort of relationship with him?” Isaiah inquired.

“I was his bodyguard, sort of,” Bubba chuckled. “Let’s just say that ol’ Milo was exactly the kind of guy bullies liked to pick on. Me and a few of my other mates stood up for him when he was being pestered by older boys. He was too nice for his own good that kid. Never could bring himself to hate anyone, not even his bullies.”

“Alright, that seems like another name to look into,” Isaiah said while nodding. “Anything else?”

“Nothing I’m afraid,” Bubba sighed. “The well’s gone dry. If there was something else that might be of use to you, I’ve clearly forgotten it.”

“You’ve been a great help Bubba,” Isaiah smiled and shook his hand. “I have more than enough to get me going.”

“If you don’t mind,” he added, “I’d like to keep this photo. If I ever find whomever it is that the spirit is missing, they’ll need to hold the picture in their hands. Once the spirit leaves, I’ll return it to you.”

“Of course!” Bubba grinned, returning to his cheerful self. “And do me a favor, keep me in the loop, especially if you find out anything about Milo.”

“You have my word,” Isaiah said.

As Bubba stood up to leave, Nigel popped out of the kitchen holding something wrapped in tinfoil.

“It’s stuffed baked tomatoes,” he said as he handed the package to the landlord. “Thank you for stopping by and say hello to your wife.”

“Huh-hoh,” Bubba bellowed. “Might have to visit you two more frequently from now on, eh?”

He thanked Nigel, patted both of them on the shoulder and then bid them farewell.