The Spook Who Sleuths by Daniel P. Douglas

Roxie Hart is a wise-cracking, ghostly private detective solving supernatural crimes with sass, grit, and a spectral zapper.



Daniel P. Douglas is the pen name for identical twins Phillip and Paul Garver. Phillip, a U.S. Army veteran, former intelligence analyst, and retired federal government employee, and Paul, with 30 years in the museum profession including the U.S. Holocaust Memorial Museum, write science fiction, suspense, and thrillers. Their award-winning works include Truth Insurrected: The Saint Mary Project, about an extraterrestrial contact cover-up, and the Richter's War series. Named a 2014 Foreword Reviews IndieFab Finalist and Readers’ Favorite Award winner, they reside in New Mexico with their families. Find out more at https://authordanielpdouglas.substack.com/.

You can read "The Spook Who Sleuths" at https://www.kaidankaistories.com.

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Episode Transcript

Speaker 1 (00:10):
Welcome to the kaidon Kai Podcast, where every story takes
you one step deeper into the world of the strange,
the eerie, and the unknown. I'm your host Linda Gould.
And Tonight's story, The Spook Who Sleuths by Daniel P.
Douglas is a sharp, witty and supernatural noir tale. We

(00:30):
meet Roxy Heart, a ghostly private investigator navigating a world
where crime, mystery, and the afterlife collide. She's sarcastic and unshakable.
Unlike any good PI, she gets her man in a
manner of speaking. Daniel P. Douglas is the pen name
for identical twins, Philip and Paul Garver. Philip is a

(00:54):
US Army veteran, former intelligence analyst, and retired federal government employee.
Paul has thirty years in the museum profession, including the
US Holocaust Memorial Museum. Together, they write science fiction, suspense,
and thrillers. Their award winning works include Truth Insurrected, The
Saint Mary Project about an extraterrestrial contact cover up, and

(01:17):
The Richters War series, named a twenty fourteen Forward Reviews
IndieFab finalist and Reader's Favorite Award winner. They reside in
New Mexico with their families a link to their author
pages in the episode description. Now dim the lights, settle in,
and prepare yourself for the spook Hoo Sleuths by Daniel P.

(01:39):
Douglas and Joy. My office was darker than FDR's fireside
chats and twice as smoky. That's how I like it.
Keeps the clients on their toes and the spirits at
Bay names rock Heart. I'm what you might call a

(02:02):
supernatural Tomfoolery private dick. Some folks get their knickers in
a twist over that last word, but in my line
of work, you gotta call a spade a spade and
a detective a dick. I kicked back in my chair,
feet up on the desk, pondering life's great mysteries, like

(02:23):
my Dames always fall for the wrong guy, or how
spam manages to be both a wartime delicacy and the
bane of future generations in boxes. That's when she walked in,
a real looker, the kind that had make Betty Grable
green with envy. Are are you the paranormal investigator? She asked,

(02:48):
her voice shakier than a gi on his first day
in boot camp, I tipped my fedora back, giving her
the once over. It's what it says on the door
of doll face. What's your tail of woe? She was
a maid worked up at the Wackerman estate. Seems the
big cheese Cornelius Wackerman the third had kicked the bucket

(03:11):
under some hanky circumstances. As she spilled the beans, I
reached into my trench coat, pulling out the ectoplasmic resonance detector,
a contraption that looked like it fell off the set
of Metropolis and got jiggy with a transistor radio. Whoa Nelly,
I said, as the erd lit up like Times Square

(03:31):
on New Year's Eve. You got more paranormal residual energy
floating around you than a seance during a full moon.
I'll take the case. Twitz. The maid blinked, more confused
than a coal miner at a debutante ball. I'm sorry,
what did you just say? I sighed. Nobody appreciates the

(03:56):
classics anymore, I said, I'll investigate now, scram sister, I
got work to do. As she hired tailed it out
of here, I gathered my gear and weapon of choice,
the spectral spook Zapper patent pending. I slid it into
my left inside coat pocket, right next to the lucky

(04:17):
rabbit's foot I'd lifted off a less than lucky leprechaun
way back in forty seven. I adjusted my tie, straightened
my hat, and headed out to face the music. The Whackerman.
The state loomed ahead like the devil's own summer cottage.
As I approached, A chill ran down my spine, colder

(04:37):
than a g man's stair. This joint was surely more
haunted than my high school reputation after that unfortunate incident
with the principles to pay in a jar of molasses.
The door creaked open before I could knock, revealing a
butler so stiff he made Buster Keaton look like a
Lindy Hopper. Look it up, you must be the investigator,

(05:04):
he said. I in my trench coat like it might
bite him. That's all right, Jeeves, I'm here to solve
your spectral shenanigans. Now where's the grieving widow. I need
to pick her brain like it's the last ration canna beans.
He led me to a parlor where a dame sat,
draped in black, like she was auditioning for a walking
shadow puppet show. The widow Wackerman I presumed. Next to

(05:28):
her stood a gardener who fidgeted more than a pickpocket
at a cop convention. Ma'am, I said, tipping my hat,
I'm here to get to the bottom of your husband's
untimely departure from this mortal coil. The widow's eyes narrowed.
I beg your pardon. Are you quite all right, miss heart?

(05:51):
Roxy Heart? And I'm as right as rain on a
duck's back. Sugar, Now, let's get down to brass tacks.
What's the skinny on old Cornelia last night on Earth?
Before she could answer, a vase floated by casual agy. Please.
As the vase left the room under its own power,
the gardener yelped like he'd just seen Rita Hayworth in

(06:14):
the flesh. I smirked, reaching into my coat. Well, well, well,
looks like this shindig's about to get interesting. Hold on
to your hamburgs and pillbox hats, ladies and gents. Roxy
Heart's on the case, and we're gonna paint the town
red or maybe ectoplasm green. From the parlor, I drifted

(06:37):
down the hall into the dead guy's study. My gumshoes,
quieter than a Nazi spy at an Allied command post.
The room swankier than a Hollywood big SHOT's ego held
more books than the Library of Congress after a shopping spree.
All right, let's see what my little friends have to
say about this joint, I said, muttering and whipping out

(07:00):
the ethereal essence evaluator, and looked like a love child
between a geygrecounder and a waffle iron. But it could
sniff out evil spirits faster than a bloodhound on a
catnip bender. The EEE started clicking like a tap dancing
telegram operator. Well, well, well, I draw, it looks like

(07:21):
old Corny was into some hinky business, more nefarious vitality
here than a ghosts laundromat. As I poked around, the
widow Wackerman slunk in, looking like she just lost a
staring contest with Medusa? Have you found anything, miss hart,

(07:42):
I targeted her with a look that could strip paint. Listen, Sugar,
I'm gonna level with you. Your hobby was dabbling in
some dark arts, darker than a black market coffee bean.
Care to spill the giggle water on that? She blame
like a burlesque dancer under a spotlight. I'm not sure

(08:06):
I understand your vernacular, missheart. Are you implying Cornelius was
involved in the occult bingo dial? Face? Give the lady
a cigar and a one way ticket to the copa cabana?
I paused, cocking an ear. Did you hear that? A

(08:29):
low moan shimmy through the room and steadily grew louder
than a foghorn with indigestion. A book flew off the shelf,
missing my nogin by a hair's breath, duck and covers sister,
I yelled, shoving the widow behind an overstuffed armchair. I
whipped out my spectral spooksapper. All right, you ectoplasmic mook,

(08:51):
let's dance. The room erupted into more chaos, and at
Keystone cops reel books flew, curtains flapped, and somewhere a
ghostly voice belted out a tune that had makes Stephen
Foster look it up roll in his grave. I blasted
left and right my zapper, illuminating the place like the
searchlights at Alcatraz during a prison break. Take that, you

(09:15):
translucent troublemaker. I hollered, nailing a particularly nasty wraith. It
vanished with a pop, a whimper, and a puff of
green smoke, leaving behind a stink that reeks like burning
toast and regret. As the dust settled, I turned to
the widow, who was peeking out from behind the chair
like a groundhog with stage fright. Your house has more

(09:37):
spirits than to speakeasy on Saturday night, missus, w you
mind telling me what your husband was up to? She
flapped her gums faster than a gossip columnis with a
spicy scoop. Turns out Cornelius had been trying to summon
some big bad from the great Beyond, looking to strike

(09:58):
a deal for power and wealth. Classic mistake. You'd think
these rich types would learn, but they always want more.
I needed more hot poop, so I cornered the butler
in the kitchen. He was stiffer than a starch collar
in January, but I could see the sweat beating on
his upper lip. All right, Jeeves, I said, leaning in close,

(10:22):
time to sing like a canary at the met What
do you know about the boss's late night activities? He
gulped his Adam's apple, doing the jitterbug. I, I'm sure
I don't know what you mean, Misshart, I smiled. All
teeth and moxy come off at buddy, I've seen more

(10:45):
convincing acts in a high school production of Hamlet. Spill it,
or I'll have my friend here do some redecorating. I
patted my zapper meaningfully. The butler's resolve crumbled faster than
this castle in at Tsunami. He babbled about secret meetings,
strange chants, and a final ritual that went sideways. Corny

(11:11):
had bitten off more than he could chew, and whatever
he summoned had bitten back. Armed with this info, I
headed to the basement. If this was a horror movie,
the audience would be screaming at me not to go
down those stairs. But hey, a dame's gotta do what
a dame's gotta do. The basement was darker than a

(11:34):
Mickey Finn's intentions and twice as disorienting. My ectoplasmic resonance
detector was going haywire. It's needle spinning like a drunken ballerina.
Come out, come out, wherever you are, I called, voice
echoing in the gloom. Let's have a little chat mano

(11:57):
a munster's When it appeared, a shape darker than a
moonless night, with more tentacles than an octopus family reunion,
it roared a sound that makes Sinatra lose his voice
and envy. I stumbled back, fumbling for my zapper. Well,
ain't you uglier than a bulldog chewing a wasp? Let's

(12:19):
see how you like a taste of roxy heart special sauce.
I fired the zapper's beam, flooding the underground hide away
with more light than a night raid over Berlin. The
creature howled, tentacles flailing. For a moment, I thought I
had it on the ropes, but one of those slimy
appendages knocked the zapper from my hands, sending it skittering

(12:42):
across the floor. The monster loomed over me, It's maw
gaping like the entrance to the underworld's least welcoming honky tonk.
I gulped, backing up against the wall. Well, sweet cheeks,
I muttered to myself, looks like this might be her
last curtain call. But as the saying goes, it ain't

(13:05):
over till the Fat Lady sings and honey. I was
about to beld out an area that had knocked this
pelucas socks off if it were any As the tentacled
terror approached, I knew it was time to pull out
my ace in the hole, or should I say my
ace from the Hereafter a right, you, overgrown Kalamari, I growled,

(13:30):
you want to dance, let's cut a rug. I closed
my eyes, concentrating harder than a codebreaker at Bletchley Park.
Suddenly the air around me shimmered and sparked, like a
Technicolor light show at Emerald City. The monster hesitated, its tentacles,
freezing mid flail. If it had eyebrows, they'd have been

(13:54):
raised higher than a cat's back at a dog show.
That's right, buster, I said, smirking, my voice echoing with
an otherworldly resonance. You're not the only spook in this
rowdy scene. My body glowed hotter than the Chicago steel
mills working overtime for the war effort. The creature shrieked,

(14:16):
sounding like a thousand nails on a chalkboard orchestras the
matter ugly can't take the heat, I taunted, Floating a
few inches off the ground. Let me introduce myself properly.
The name's roxy Heart class in nineteen forty five, and
I don't mean high school sweetheart. With a gesture that

(14:38):
would have made Houdini green with envy, I let fly
with a willap of fantasmal pizazz that made the basement
look like Coney Island, brought times square to a hot
date on the Saturday night. The monster didn't stand a chance.
It dissolved faster than a sugar cube and hot coffee,
leaving behind nothing but a stench of low tide and

(15:01):
broken dreams. As my glow faded away and I floated
onto solid ground again, I heard gasps behind me. Turning,
I saw the widow, the butler, and the gardener gawking
at me like I was Eleanor Roosevelt doing the jitterbug
in her studded leather underwear. Now that's a picture. Close

(15:24):
your mouths, folks, I drawled, you'll catch flies. The widow
stepped forward, her eyes wider than dinner plates at the ritz.
Miss Heart, what who are you? I straightened my fedora,
which had somehow stayed on through the whole shebang, Like

(15:46):
I said, doll, I'm roxy Heart, paranormal investigator extraordinaire, I
just happened to have a bit more personal experience with
the other side than you mean. You're a the gardener
stammered a ghost. Well, butter my biscuit and call me impressed,

(16:09):
I said, winking. Been haunting this side of the dirt
since nineteen forty five, when A Jerry and I did
the razor fandango in Croud Country and I missed a step.
Figured i'd put my unique secret agent talents to good use,
so I started solving cases. No living gumshoe could crack.
The butler, looking paler than usual, which for him was

(16:31):
quite a feat, cleared his throat. But how are you
solid and a woman, I shrugged, straightening my trench coat.
A dame's gotta have some secrets, jeeves. Let's just say
I've picked up a few tricks since shuffling off this

(16:52):
breathing business. Now about your late boss, I explained how
Cornelius had accidentally off himself during his little summoning ritual.
The big bat he'd caught up had been more than
happy to stick around and make itself at home, feeding
off the fear and confusion of the household. So that's
the skinny, I concluded. Case closed and your house is

(17:16):
officially de gouled. My bill will be in the mail.
Don't worry. I accept most forms of payment in this realm.
As I turned to leave, the widow called out, miss Hart,
will we will we see you again? I paused at
the door, tipping my hat with a smirk. Sugar. In

(17:37):
my line of work, you never know where or when
I might pop up. Just keep your eyes peeled in
your wigy board's handy. With that, I sauntered into the night,
my form slowly fading like mist in the morning sun.
Another case solved, Another day, well, not lived, but you

(17:58):
get the picture. In this town, the streets are dark,
the dames are dangerous, and the dead don't always stay put.
But as long as there are phantoms causing trouble, Roxy Heart,
the ghostly Dick will be there to crack the case
and save the day. Now, if you'll excuse me, I
got a hot date with Eternity and maybe a gold

(18:21):
glass of spectral gin. This ghost detective's work is never done,
but hey, that's the breaks when you're the spook who sleuths.
What I loved about this story was really just how
fun it was. I have no deeper meaning to focus

(18:42):
on behind the story. It's just that it reminded me
of the past and it made me laugh with all
those analogies and metaphors, and I like how it wasn't
really about the ghosts so much, but it was actually
about Roxy. It's also a reminder that, you know, mystery
doesn't end when life does. There are all always secrets
waiting to be uncovered, and sometimes I guess we need

(19:04):
the help of those on the other side, and Roxy
just made it kind of fun. On that note, the
kait on Kai features stories of every genre, so don't
miss any I post weekly, so please subscribe to the
podcast and follow me on social media the Instagram, Facebook,
Blue Sky, and substack. Information is in the episode description.

(19:24):
Thank you, thank you so much for listening today. See
you next week.