"I swear it's true," the older cop told me as we stood outside the entrance to Trolley Square at 12:20 a.m.

"There's a ghost in this building, and they say he comes out of that grate over by the north doors dressed in a pair of bib overalls."

"Well, I guess I'll be packin' in this security gig," I laughed.

"Look, this is your first time alone on graves," he said with concern. "I didn't want you to sneak up on this dead guy and have him disappear."

I thanked my colleague for the warning and watched him walk away. He was nearly to his car when he turned around and shouted, "I almost forgot, this phantom only appears in the wee hours of the morning."

A short-handed maintenance crew was on the first floor preparing to strip the wax off the cobblestone walkway and replace it. It looked like tedious work. I offered the usual encouraging words before moving upstairs.

Forty-five minutes later, every lock in the place had been secured and I was sitting inside the security cage reading a dog-eared copy of Field and Stream. The night dragged on longer than a bus trip across Texas.

Finally at 3:05, things picked up. One of the custodians poked his head into my office and asked me to unlock the door so he and the others could go get some food. I showed the four men out and bolted the exit behind them. Afterward, I strolled over to the pile of equipment they had dropped in place and surveyed the progress. The job was coming along, but they still had most of the north corridor to finish.

The men returned within the hour and banged on the front doors. I'd no sooner let them in, when I heard it . . . an eerie sound that drifted gently through the old car barn. The foursome stood still and studied me. "I'd say it's somebody whistling 'Danny Boy,' " one of them whispered. I took off double-quick to investigate -- with the work crew in pursuit.

When we rounded the bend and came up on the north concourse, the whistling stopped. So did I. The custodians were glued to my side. We stared at the scene in front of us and let out a group gasp. The entire length of the corridor had been rewaxed to a glistening buff. Besides that, all of the gear was now stacked neatly against the wall.

The foreman nudged me and asked, "Who did this!?"

I glanced over at that heavy grate by the north door and replied, "Let me put it this way guys, come Halloween . . . we'll have one heck of a ghost story to tell."

CREDITS:

Mall Ghost Walked Quietly And ... 10/18/1999

The Salt Lake Tribune

Date: 10/18/1999 Edition: Final Section: Utah Page: B2

Keywords: Law Enforcement; Guest Column