Ham was working on an article about Vancouver’s famed Free-Needle clinic (apparently, free needle clinics can be famous). The clinic was located deep into the depths of downtown Vancouver. Ham was not keen walking into the abyss of drug central alone so he invited me to escort him. I was either his dumbest friend or his toughest friend. I’m going with the latter.

Ham booked us at the dorms at the University of British Columbia partly because of the cost (it was cheap) and partly because it was Ham’s hero, Mr. Pierre Berton’s alamater.

Every morning I would accompany Ham on the bus to downtown then stroll throughout the area (always in the rain) as Ham gathered the “atmosphere” for his article. After a boxed lunch (again to save costs), I would escort Ham back to the UBC bus, then go shopping. While I shopped Ham explored UBC, looking for reminisces of Pierre Berton. Over a late supper, we would always start our conversation in the same manner.

“Vancouver Canuck this! I cannot believe we are having Chinese leftovers again. It’s called a dinner for ten, not ten dinners for two.”

“I still can’t find anything about Pierre Berton on campus. It is as if he did not exist. Everything is either confidential or missing. What is this place?”

Our daily routine continued until one night, we concluded the day with a concert on campus. It was Ham’s idea as the concert was free. Upon walking back through the fog to the dorms after the concert it happened – we saw the ghost of an old man in a bow tie.

“Oooooo, stop looking for me!” it said.
“I give, who are you?”
“Oooooo, I am the ghost of…”
“Pierre Berton. Suzy it’s Pierre Berton, my literary hero.”

“Oooooo, stop looking for me or I will do something ghostly!”
Ham was obviously scared. Although it was foggy, I’m pretty sure I saw his shorts were a bit stained with poop.
“Whoop de poop. He’s not that scary. A creepy old man who is alive is much scarier than a creepy old man who is dead.”

“Oooooo, Suzy TooToo I have met people like you before. They too did not understand the power of the Ghost of Pierre Berton. But soon they learned and you will too!”

With that pointless ghostly rant, the ghost disappeared into the fog.

The next morning I awoke to Ham’s yell.
“Suzy! Suzy! The ghost was here!”

I ran into his room.
“Look Suzy, the ghost of Pierre Berton was here.”
He pointed to the floor.
“This! It’s nothing ghostly. It’s just pasta.”
“Yes but it’s bow-tie pasta! He was here!”

That day we did not go through our normal Vancouver routine. Ham’s focus has shifted from the free-needle clinic to a ghost mystery. I spent the entire morning escorting him as he tracked down the UBC archivist. Once we found her, he kept talking about the ghost. The ghost this, the ghost that, bowtie pasta here, there and everywhere. She managed to ditch us by throwing a copy of her book onto the lawn and yelling, “it’s dedicated to Pierre Berton!” Ham went after it like a dog to a frisbee.

The afternoon was spent investigating the scene of the ghost sighting. Ham could not find any concrete evidence of any sort. We agreed to go back to the scene that night.

We arrived to the scene of the sighting, at the exact same time as the previous night. Again from the fog appeared the ghost.

“Oooooo, I have asked you to stop looking for me yet you disobey.”
“Umm well you see…”
“See, like my present I left you in your room?”
“Umm, yeah that pasta.”
“Oooooo, it will only get worse. You must stop looking for me!”
“NEVER!” I yelled.
“Oooooo, yes you will.”
“NO!”
“Oooooo, yes!”
“NOOOOOO!”
“Oooooo, YES!”
“NO MEANS NO!”

With my final scream, two campus security guards arrived upon the scene. Before anyone could move, the guards pinned Ham and the ghost to the ground.

“Are you okay Miss?”
“We heard your screams of ‘no’.”
“Are these men threatening you?”
“You did the right thing by yelling.”

I explained the situation. They released Ham and focused on the ghost.
“Gentlemen.” I said, “We have here no ghost. We have here…”

I exposed the ghost’s true identity.

“Ms. Victoria Hedgehopper, the UBC archivist!” Ham exclaimed.
“Yes and I would have gotten away with it if it wasn’t for you kids!”

“But why?”
“Her book of course. Look closely at it Ham. It has the same writing style as one Pierre Berton. That’s why there is little evidence of Pierre Berton going to school here. That’s why she wouldn’t answer any of your questions. She was afraid you would learn that she had found a missing manuscript and was using it for herself.”

“How did you know Suzy?”
“I began suspicious when she threw her book. I don’t think an UBC archivist would write about the adventures of a bush pilot. But I knew Pierre Berton would and according your “Joy of Writing” by Pierre Berton that you made me read – he did. He wrote the manuscript but tossed it. Obviously Ms. Victoria Hedgehopper found it.”

“But how did you know she was the ghost?”
“Again, this morning when we encountered her. Myself being a fashionable stylist I couldn’t help but notice her ugly shoes. My goodness who would wear Croc shoes? And pink too? Then this afternoon when we investigated this scene I notice many Croc footprints in the bushes and a scrapped rock. The pink shoes had left its pink mark on the rock.”

“But weren’t you scared tonight with the ghost?”
“Cheese Louise Ham, it’s a white sheet with a bow tie. Grow up. If anything I’m more scared that you are wearing Croc shoes.”

“Take them off, they look hideous.”
“Seriously remove them, now. I feel like an idiot standing next to you."