by Willow Mason
The messages were gibberish. I could imagine Beezley sitting in front of a phone with grim concentration and attempting to type out a message. His paws were far too unwieldy to hit the right keys. “SDTay wel;l awqay!>” read one text. “Imn leascvimnfg ansd mnot cxomingf bacjk,” said another.
“Old men and technology,” I said with a laugh, handing the device back. “You know how it is.”
“No, I don’t. Every other message in this thread is perfectly legible, even if it suffers from the occasional autocorrect. Beezley needs my help!”
“Well, it sounds like you’ve got that sorted.” I switched the knife to my other hand and stood up, moving towards the door. “You go knock on his door and ask him if he needs help.”
“I have.” The plaintive note in Wilson’s voice made me feel like a big meanie. “The only response I get is a dog barking. Can you tell me if it’s alright, at least?”
“The dog’s fine. He’s well fed and watered.”
“But what about Beezley? I’d do anything for that man. I can’t begin to tell you what a positive impact he had on my life.”
“You have already. Beezley’s fine. Get on with your own life and don’t worry about him. I’ll let him know to send you a clearer text message saying he’s okay.”
The poor dog must have been desperate, trying to reach somebody who’d understand. I definitely should press for a raise, even if he was saving me a rent payment. After all, if I was tidying his kitchen as well as getting samples off… Oh. I’d put that to the back of my mind.
“What is it that you do?” Wilson turned blank eyes towards me, and I prompted, “Since you said you didn’t make it into the police.”
“I work at a local law office, prepping papers and answering phones. Sometimes, I help out with different cases, getting evidence ready for trial and stuff like that.”
“Sounds good,” I said in a noncommittal tone. “Have you been there long?”
His face fell, and I leaned in as Wilson began to tug at his earlobe again. “To be honest, I should’ve said it used to be my job. I’m in-between opportunities at the moment.”
If only Wilson could speak dog, he sounded like the assistant Beezley was searching for. “How do you feel about taking bodily samples?” I asked him. There was probably a subtler way of doing that, but I was tired, I’d had quite a day, and my magic stores were pretty much depleted.
“I’ve never had to do that. Why?”
“Oh, just a job I heard about. Say someone did ask you to do that for them, how would you go about it? You know, breaking into the morgue and stuff like that.”
“Well, I wouldn’t.” Wilson shifted on his chair, looking more upset with every passing second. “Breaking and entering is against the law.”
“What if Beezley asked you to do it? You wouldn’t mind bending the rules for him.”
Wilson relaxed and laughed, “He’d never ask me to do anything illegal. He’s the straightest arrow I know. What’s this about?”
“I just thought you might be the man to help me and Beezley out with a problem. Never mind.” I stretched out and headed for the door. “I’m sure I can find someone who genuinely wants to help.”
“Eh?” Wilson gripped the armrest of the sofa, digging in until his fingertips disappeared. “I thought you said he wasn’t in any trouble. Now you want me to break into a morgue?”
“Not in any danger might’ve been a better way of putting it. But it doesn’t matter, not if you’re scared of breaking the law.”
“Well I… How do I know it’s him that’s asking?”
I placed the knife back in the block and turned around, putting my hands on my hips. “You saw me coming out of Beezley’s house. Do you really think he’d let me in there for hours if I wasn’t working for him?”
My phone beeped, and I pulled it out. Great timing, Beezley. I grinned and turned the device around to show it to my guest.
“UYoui sdrtart ast 8. SDomn’t nbe lkate.”
“It’s hard to interpret with his sudden lack of fine motor skills, but I believe this one says I start at eight tomorrow morning and I’d better not be late.”
Wilson peered closer, trying to take the phone out of my hand.
“What’re you doing?” I took a step back, uneasy.
“Just checking the number.” He glanced at the screen of his phone, then placed it so the devices were side to side. “Same phone. I guess it’s a date. Meet here or around at Beezley’s?”
“Beezley’s.” The last thing I needed in the morning was his bespectacled face turning up before my third coffee. “And don’t be early. I need a chance to get in there and explain why you’re joining us.”
After that, the harder explanations would begin.
Still, it would be worth the momentary discomfort and the doggie glares if I could rope this young man into performing all the icky duties. I’d even sacrifice some of my wages if it meant the inside of a morgue could remain a mystery to me.
Chapter Six
“Why did you bring him here?” Beezley growled as I excused myself to go to the kitchen and stay as long as possible. The reunion had been off to a bad start when Wilson ignored my warning and turned up far too early. Since then, it had gone downhill.
“I thought he was a friend of yours.” I glanced back at Wilson just before I shut the connecting door. At that moment, it seemed obvious no one was his friend. “It’s what he told me, anyway. He was really worried about you.”
The one thing that had surprised me was how easily Wilson had accepted Beezley’s changed form. I’d expected denial and disbelief—instead, there was solemn acceptance.
“I sent him the text messages, so he’d go away and leave me alone. It’s been the only bright spot in this ridiculous transformed-into-a-dog business—getting away from my weekly check-in with Wilson. The man’s guilted me into keeping contact for years.”
His French bulldog nose was so twisted, it looked in danger of disappearing altogether. “Surely, he’s not that bad? The poor guy’s just worried about you and desperate to help.”
“I’m not paying him.”
“He’s not asking you to,” I answered that with a bit more confidence than I possessed since I hadn’t checked with Wilson on that score. I pulled some tea bags out of the cabinet, wincing at their damp feel. Still, I was about to pour boiling water over them so it shouldn’t matter. “If he asks for money, I’ll pay him out of my share.”
“I’m not comfortable telling him anything at all about the case. He could go spilling our secrets to all the wrong people.”
“Your secrets, not mine. Besides, who do you think he’d tell them to?”
Beezley gave a little snuffling noise. “I suppose you’re right. His entire family moved away from the area years ago and I doubt they kept in touch. The father was a right piece of work.”
His callousness surprised me. “Didn’t the sister die? Maybe you never saw them at their best.”
Beezley shook himself, dog hairs flying off to affix themselves to my dark jeans. “That was a nasty business. She was a straight-A student who got crazy one night on the town and died of a drug overdose.”
“Ouch.” I swished the water around in the cup, watching as it altered in colour from clear to pale gold. Good. The tea bag still worked. “He told me she was murdered.”
“Manslaughter was the final charge. The drug dealer gave her a helping hand with the injection she died from. We got the prosecutor onboard and got the druggie the longest sentence possible. Not that it’s long at all. He was back out again within three years.”
“Double ouch.” I fished out the tea bag and got the milk out of the fridge. When I tipped it up, a large lump spilled out along with some sour watery goop. “Ugh. When’s the last time you got milk?” I checked the use-by date and gagged. “If I’m moving in here, you need to learn how to keep house better.”
“Excuse me. Have you missed the fact I’ve been turned into a dog? Do you think the local su
permarkets will accept it if I trot on in there for my weekly shop?”
“Internet. You ordered the computer easily enough.”
“It wasn’t easy. It took me three days.” Beezley stalked across the room, fuming. “Every time I typed in the right letters, the entire connection reset itself. Even when I enlarge the screen to maximum, phones just aren’t built for people with paws.”
I dumped the contents of the cup into the sink and ran cold water on top until the stench and the colour faded away.
“If you’re not keen on working with Wilson,” I said, picking up the earlier thread of conversation, “then you can fire him after he gets the samples. Only, I’m not keen on dead bodies. Even ones who I feel sorry for.”
“In that case, we can fire him straight away.” Beezley walked to the door and pawed at the handle until it opened. “When I checked the file this morning, it seems the police have released her body into the custody of the family. Even if you could break into the funeral parlour, I doubt the samples we get now will be worth a lot.”
“Why? Is it all the makeup they put on?” I remembered how my mother looked in her coffin. Even though I’d told the funeral director she didn’t use the stuff, he’d fashioned her to look like a slapper who’d just staggered out of a nightclub and died.
“It’s the embalming fluid. Once that stuff goes in the veins, the toxicology goes out the window.”
“Don’t get up,” I said as I walked back into the room and Wilson stood. Since he’d already disobeyed the order, he hovered, legs bent. Yep. Norman should be this guy’s name. No-friends Norman. “It looks like you’re off the hook for the job.” I smiled to show him it was meant to be good news.
“I can help with anything,” Wilson gushed, letting gravity sort out his issue and collapsing back into the chair. “There’s a whole range of tasks I’m good at. Sorting taxes, filing affidavits with the court. Anything. What do you need?”
“The body’s gone back home so the samples are off the table,” I said in my kindest voice. When his face didn’t register pleasure, I gave him a pat on the knee in a gesture of goodwill.
Wilson’s face screwed up and for an alarming second, I felt sure he was about to cry. “Won’t the police have samples already?”
“Not that they’ll test,” I relayed before Beezley had the chance. After ten minutes of translating his barks this morning, Wilson still hadn’t lost his expression of panic every time Beezley made a sound.
“But they’ll have the samples,” Wilson repeated in a slow voice.
His tone riled me, and I was about to out-slow his slow voice in a grotesque parody of enunciation when Beezley inclined his head. “The young lad’s got a point.”
“And that is?”
“Instead of breaking into the morgue, you can break into the police station.”
I squeezed my eyelids shut to prevent an eye-roll of graphic proportions. You want me to break into a police station? Are you kidding me?
But of course, that’s why we were putting up with Wilson. In a much brighter mood, I turned to him. “Oh, do you think you could go get them for us? I’m sure Beezley can give you a hand with passcodes and such.”
“From the station?” Wilson’s voice pitched up the octaves until I was pretty sure only Beezley could hear him. “That’s even more illegal than the morgue.”
“No. Just more policemen likely to catch you doing it.” I poked Beezley in the ribs. “Do you have all the right passwords and swipe cards and stuff to get in and out without detection?”
“Nope.” He hung his head. “All my equipment is sitting on my desk where I left it. I remember little from the day, but I was out on a call when I was human, then wound up back here as a dog.”
“You don’t remember anything else?”
Wilson butted in. “Would you please share the conversation with me?” He was on the verge of hyperventilating. “It’s awful sitting here, not knowing what he’s saying.”
“Just that all his keys are in the locker at work, so it’s not going to be easy.”
“I can’t… I don’t think…”
“Put your head between your knees, there’s a good chap.” I gave Wilson a few firm strokes on his back, then raised my eyebrow at Beezley.
“We don’t need the physical samples,” he said. “Since I can still access the computer system, we just need to get them processed to find out the results.”
“And if they’re clear, this is all for nothing,” I said. “So you’d better be sure before either of us go in there.”
“Oh, you’re coming!” Wilson grabbed hold of my hand like it was a life preserver. “Thank goodness for that.”
Beezley snorted. “Ha-ha. Good one. Nice of you to volunteer.”
I shot a sour glance at Beezley, but it just appeared to intensify his good humour.
“How do we send a sample to the lab? Is there a form?”
“A sticker. I mean, there should be a form signed off by a superior officer and everything, but the guys dispatching it for testing only care about the sticker. We can fake one up easily enough, then you find the kit in the freezer, slap it on, and you’re done!”
Wilson was carrying on his own side conversation, now admitting, “I’m not cut out for sneaking around. I might’ve told you that when you caught me last night.”
I bit my lip to stop myself from saying that if I’d known this was the outcome, I would have left him outside.
“Well, we’ve got a bit of work to do in preparation,” I said brightly. “Then we’ll give it a shot.”
“And if either or both of you are arrested,” Beezley said with a grin. “I’ll deny ever having known you.”
My grin was wider as I shot back, “And you’ll be a very sad doggie without anyone to collect your groceries or fill up your water bowl.”
Chapter Seven
By a unanimous decision of everyone who wasn’t me, I led the expedition into the police station. Beezley got to remain in the safety of the waiting room while I used the ladies’ room to cast a spell to turn me invisible. The drain on my magic was incredible. Just walking with the constant pull made me exhausted.
I followed an officer through the connecting door, having to bump him forward when he didn’t move quite fast enough. Better to have him think there was a poltergeist roaming free than for the CCTV to pick up the door bumping up against something it couldn’t see.
Or could CCTV see me? I didn’t know. My life to this point hadn’t been clandestine enough for me to find out.
Wouldn’t that be great? I’d deplete my magic powers only to show up when someone bothered to glance at the screen. In fact, if they were monitored live, then I could soon expect a tap on my invisible shoulder.
Get a move on then, girl.
In the main office room, I hung around near an officer’s desk and picked up his swipe card when he moved a few steps away to retrieve a document from the printer. My forehead was beaded with sweat by the time I got out of there and navigated my way to the rear of the station.
The exit door was easy enough to open but the wait until the surrounding corridor cleared out took a good ten minutes. At least, that’s what my watch said. My racing heart insisted it was an hour or more.
“Thank goodness,” Wilson whispered when I opened the door. He placed a hand against my back to follow me. Not the greatest solution since my already anxious nerves now thought they were being pushed, but the simplest. “There’re a couple of officers out there, having a cigarette break, and I was sure they were about to arrest me for loitering at any second.”
“It’s hardly a crime to stand outside.”
“It is when it’s private property belonging to a governmental agency.”
I zipped my lip as a shadow moved behind a door we were passing. Just because we were in, didn’t mean we were close to getting the job done and getting back out, undetected. My invisibility spell could be expanded to cover Wilson, but not well and not for long.
B
ecause of that, I’d already decided Wilson would be my fall guy if push came to shove. I hadn’t told him but there are some things it’s easier to keep secret. It might strain our friendship, otherwise.
“Here we go,” I announced, swiping the stolen card and opening the door into the evidence locker. It was just another office room, with heaps of shelving at the front and a refrigeration unit taking up most of the back wall. “I hope they’re in some kind of order.”
Alphabetical, it turned out. I twisted the evidence bags to read the names and sorted through a dozen W kits before reaching Wainwright, Fenella.
“Give it here,” Wilson said, snatching it out of my hands. “I want to check what they’ve got.”
“Why?” I wanted to rip the bag out of his hands, but he was the one with the sticker. I glared at him but being invisible came with some hefty drawbacks.
“We need to check what they’ve got on hand so we know they’ve tested everything they should when the results come through.”
Wilson made a good case, but not when my eyes were threatening to burst out of my head with the blood pressure building up behind.
“Go check to see if anyone’s coming this way,” he said. “If you want to do something useful.”
I chalked up a slap to deliver later on, when there were fewer immediate concerns on hand, and went to the door.
A slotted window with crisscross wires allowed me to view a metre in each direction. I’d hear someone coming well before I could see them, but stayed with my nose pressed against the window just in case.
“Hurry up,” I said, checking my watch and feeling alarmed when I saw another minute had ticked by. “Have you put the sticker on yet?”
“Just making my list.”
I hurried over to his side, prepared to grab the bag out of his hand and stick it in the queue for processing. When I looked at the sample again, though, I saw someone else had already placed a sticker on it. I knew it wasn’t ours because the handwriting was far more legible than mine.
