Good Times, Bad Times

39. Red Sky at Morning

"So, Mrs. Case..." Sam began.

"Please," Gert said, looking intently at Sam. "Ms. Case."

"Okay. Um, Ms. Case, um... you were the one who found your niece, correct?"

"I came home, she was in the shower."

"Drowned?"

"So the coroner says. Now, you tell me, how can someone drown in the shower?"

"How would you describe Sheila's behavior in the days before her death? I mean, did she seem frightened? Maybe she said something out of the ordinary, or...?"

"Wait a minute. You're working with Alex, aren't you?"

"Yep," Dean said. "Absolutely. That's," he laughed, "Alex and us, we're like this."

"Why didn't you say so? Alex has been such a comfort. But I'm sorry. I thought the case was solved."

"Uh... Well, no. No, not yet." Sam replied.

"I see."

"So, anyways, we were talking about your niece."

"Well, yes. Sheila mentioned something quite strange before she died. She said she saw a boat."

"A boat?" Susana repeated, tilting her head.

"Yes. One minute it was there, then it was gone. It just disappeared right before her eyes. You think it could be a ... ghost ship? Alex thinks it could be a ghost ship." She was addressing all her comments to Sam, staring at him intently.

Sam was thrown off by her intense regard. "Well, um... Could be."

"Well. You let me know if there's anything else I can do for you." She traced a finger slowly along Sam's hand; Sam looked uncomfortable, Susana looked away, amused and awkward, and Dean cleared his throat, smirking broadly. "Anything at all."

EXT. DOCKS - DAY

Dean, Susana and Sam walked along the docks. The water was crowded with pristine, moderately sized boats.

"What a crazy old broad," Dean commented.

"Why?" Sam asked. "Because she believes in ghosts?"

Dean laughed. "Look at you, sticking up for your girlfriend. You cougar hound."

"Bite me."

"Hey, not if she bites you first." Susana hit his chest. "Ow. So, who's this Alex? We got another player in town?"

"Maybe, maybe not. Doesn't change our job."

"And what looked like a ghost ship, right?" Susana said.

"Yeah. It's not the first one sighted around here, either."

"Really?" Dean asked.

"Yeah. Every 37 years, like clockwork, reports of a vanishing three-mast clipper ship out in the bay. And every 37 years, a rash of weirdo, dry-land drownings."

"So, whatever's happening is just getting started."

"Yeah."

"What's the lore?"

"Well, there are apparitions of old wrecks sighted all over the world. The S.S. Violet, the Griffin, the Flying Dutchman – almost all of them are death omens."

"So, what happens? You see the ship and then a few hours later, you pucker up and kiss your ass goodbye?"

"Basically."

"What's the next step?"

"I gotta I.D. the boat."

"That shouldn't be too hard. I mean, how many three-mast clipper ships have wrecked off the coast?"