The CASKET Files (P.I.E. Fanfic)

𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝙵𝚒𝚛𝚜𝚝 𝙸𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚛𝚘𝚐𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗

  "Log four. February nineteenth, twenty-twenty. Wednesday.

  Today, I acted upon the logic I had established yesterday. I decided to have a talk with my partner, Johnny Ghost."

-earlier-

  Johnny Ghost was on the phone with one of the P.I.E employees, Fred Spooker. Spooker had been sent to the Acachalla residence, after they had received calls of problems being caused by Papa's "head cruster". "I don't care what you do to get rid of it. That stupid device is more trouble than it's worth!" Ghost argued. "Burn it for all I care!... So what if he sues us?! We gave it to them for crying out loud!" 

  The paranormal investigator was quiet a moment, so the other end could respond. "You know what? I'll send Colon down there with something to incinerate it. How about that?" Ghost offered. "Okay. Bye." And with a huff, Johnny hung up. "I knew giving that family the portal device to the thirteenth dimension was a dumb idea..." He said, as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

  Just then, Johnny Toast slowly opened the door of his partner's office. "Oh. Hi, Johnny." Ghost greeted. "Hello, sir." Toast replied.

  "So, do you remember how you said, that if I needed help with my current case, to come ask you?" Ghost nodded, as his partner continued. "Great! Can we talk in my office please, sir?" Toast wondered. "Sure."

  Once in Toast's office, the two sat down.

  "Alright, what am I helping with?" Ghost asked curiously. "I was wondering if you could tell me about Timothy Casket." Toast answered, as he took out a small notepad and pencil. "My father?" The Brit nodded. "Why? Is information on my father somehow going to help you with your case?" Ghost asked, puzzled by his friend's request. "I believe so." Toast answered.

  "Well, Johnny, I hate to break it to you, but I don't know that much about my father. All I do know, is that he died a few months before I was born." Ghost told him. "Do you know what year that was?" Toast questioned. "Well, considering I was born in '89, the my father died in 1989." Toast sighed. "What? Was that the wrong answer?" Ghost wondered. "No, your answer is partially right." Toast replied, while looking down at his notes. "Partially? What is that supposed to mean, Johnny?" Ghost asked, but Toast ignored the question.

  "So, the only things you know about your father are from what your mother has told you?" Ghost nodded, while also a bit confused as to why Toast didn't answer his questions. "Can you tell me some of the things your mother told you about him?" Toast asked next. "Um... mom said he had a pretty good paying job. He had a trust fund set up with quite the amount set aside. Mom said she was able to use that money to put me through school. And uh, mom would tell me stories sometimes from before he died." Ghost answered.

  "Do you know how he died, sir?" Toast asked him. "My mother told me he died in a car crash." Ghost told. "Hm..." Toast hummed, as he wrote something down on his notepad.

  "Are you going to tell me why you're asking me these questions, Johnny?" Ghost wondered, as Toast finished writing down something. "Not yet, sir." He replied. "Why?"

  "Is there anything else you can tell me about your father? Perhaps what kind of man he was, or anything really." Toast continued. "Look, Johnny, my mother didn't talk about my father a lot. That's all I can tell you." Ghost explained, almost apologetically. Toast sighed. "Alright, sir. I guess I don't have any more questions." He told him. "Okay... then." Ghost answered, before getting up and leaving the room.

─•────•──────────•────•─

  "The information I got from my partner was conflicting with the info I already had on Timothy Casket. For one, the cause of death. My victim fell off a cliff, and there wasn't any report of him being in a car. Also, the man had two children. As far as I know, Ghost was a single child.

  Perhaps it was a rather odd coincidence. I'll have to wait and see what my sister can find in the police archives.

─•────•──────────•────•─

  It was late in the afternoon. The oldest Casket child was in his room doing homework, Mr. Casket was working late, and little Gregory Casket was bored.

  The child so badly wanted someone to play with. He was starting to feel a bit lonely, and would often find himself feeling as though no one wanted to pay attention to him. Gregory then realized that there was one person he hadn't gone to ask about playing with him.

  As the little boy wandered into the kitchen, he could smell the delicious aroma of some seasoned and frying veggies in the skillet on the stovetop, and the chicken that was being baked in the oven. Sitting at the kitchen table was Gregory's mother. She appeared to be looking through lots of papers. 

  "Mommy?" Gregory went over to his mother. The lady seemed to have a delayed reaction to her son, but she did respond. "Yes, sweetie?" She asked, trying to sound happy. "Can 'ou pway wif me, pwease?" The soon-to-be five year old wondered. An apologetic look seemed to grow on the young mother's face. "I'm sorry, baby. Mommy can't play right now. I'm very busy. Why don't you go find your brother? Maybe he'll play with you!" She suggested. Gregory pouted sadly. "He busy too." His mother sighed. "Well hun, I'm not sure what to tell you." Gregory was upset by this.

  Mrs. Casket thought a moment, then got an idea. "You know what?" Gregory looked up at his mommy. "There's some cardboard boxes on the porch out back. Maybe you could build a fort!" Her son was a bit confused. "A 'fowt'?" He wondered. "Ya! Like a castle! One you can play in!" Little Gregory's chocolate brown eyes lit up instantly. "Otay!"He exclaimed, before he ran off to find his shoes so he could go outside.