The Undead Uproar

by Amanda M. Lee

  He was warm, his face serene as he tried to convince me to settle in next to him. Part of me wanted to surrender. The other part couldn’t contain my worry.

  “We have to tell Chris about the zombie.”

  “Why?” He made fake crying sounds as he tried to push the pillow over my face, which made me laugh. “Do you have any idea how obnoxious he’s going to be when we tell him what happened last night?”

  I had a few ideas. “Yeah. He’s going to be really mad we didn’t wake him to see the zombie.”

  “Stop calling him a zombie.” He flicked my ear. “You’ll make things worse if you call him that.”

  “You can’t stop me from using that word. I mean ... a guy who already died once yesterday somehow found my hotel room even though he should have no idea how to do that because he was nowhere near the police officer when I revealed that information, and then he died a second time. If I can’t call him a zombie, then this is the worst job ever.”

  He tickled me until I gasped. “Promise me you won’t call him a zombie.”

  “No.”

  “Promise me.”

  “No.”

  He dug harder. “Promise me, Charlie.”

  “No!” I was firm. “I’m not giving in on this one. He’s totally a zombie.”

  Jack let loose a long sigh. “I’ll never be able to live this down, will I?”

  “Not even a little,” I agreed, enjoying myself far too much. “We should get up and shower. I’m starving. I’m going to need food for when you tell Chris that he missed the zombie.”

  “You’re a horrible girl.” He dragged a hand through his shoulder-length hair and cast me a sidelong look. “Are you showering in here or your room?”

  The question was simple, and yet I had no idea how to answer. “Oh, well ... .”

  He grinned at my discomfort. “Here’s the deal: Every time you say the word ‘zombie,’ I’m going to start questioning you about things in our relationship that you’re not ready to discuss. How does that sound?”

  Honestly, it sounded painful. That didn’t mean I was willing to back down. “Do whatever you want. I’m not going to give in on the zombie thing. I’ve earned the right to say whatever I want.”

  “Fine. Then I’ve earned the right to tease you about our sleeping arrangements.”

  I didn’t like that one bit. “Do you have to? It feels weird given everything that’s going on. Why can’t you just be a gentleman?”

  He stared at me for a long beat and then shook his head. “I can’t even torture you when you’re polite enough to ask in that way. It sucks.”

  “Does that mean we can get ready for breakfast? I’m not joking about being hungry.”

  “Yes, we can get ready for breakfast.” He was utterly defeated as I moved to climb out of bed.

  I stopped myself before I moved too far away, and pressed a quick kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Thanks. By the way, they don’t have anything weird I need to know about for breakfast, right? I’m safe ordering eggs and hash browns?”

  “Yes. Just stay away from grits. You won’t like them.”

  “Good tip.”

  “Stay away from the hot sauce they bring, too. You won’t like that on your eggs.”

  His response made me laugh. “You know what’s funny? A few months ago we didn’t even know each other and now you know what I like to eat ... and more importantly, what I won’t like, even better than me. Life is kind of miraculous sometimes.”

  He rubbed his forehead and shook his head. “There are times I think you’re the most earnest person I’ve ever met.”

  “Is that bad?”

  “No, Charlie, it’s not. Don’t ever change for anyone.”

  “Oh, that’s kind of sweet.” I moved toward the door. “If you hurry and get ready we can split breakfasts like we do when we’re home and one of us can get pancakes and the other can get eggs and hash browns.”

  “Just get ready.” He was clearly overthinking what he considered my cuteness. “I’ll pick you up before we head down. I would rather tell Chris the zombie story together, if you don’t mind.”

  “Is that because you’re worried I’ll get him riled up?”

  “Oh, I know you’ll get him riled up. I want to make sure I’m there when the conversation goes down. Just ... hurry up. Now that you’ve brought up breakfast it’s all I can think about.”

  “Aye, aye, Captain.” I kicked my heels together and offered him a saucy salute.

  “I think you’re going to be the death of me one of these days.”

  “And I think you’re more dramatic than me. Buck up, camper. We’re going to have a busy day hunting zombies.”

  “Yup. Definitely the death of me.”

  EVERYONE WAS ALREADY GROUPED AROUND the table in the dining room. Unfortunately, we had a visitor. It was Thibodeaux, and he was sitting next to Chris, clearly mired in a deep conversation as everyone else nursed coffee and tea, and considered menus.

  “There they are.” Millie beamed at me as I took the chair across from her. “We wondered if you guys were going to make it down after your busy night.”

  “You heard about that, huh?” I slid my gaze to Jack and found him frowning at Chris and Thibodeaux. “What exactly have you heard?”

  “Well, according to Detective Thibodeaux, a dead man knocked on your door last night and asked for a bit of romance,” Millie replied. “According to Laura, you two were practically naked in the hallway with the dead man, and she’s convinced you were doing something wicked.”

  My mouth dropped open as Jack shifted in his chair. “What?”

  “First, we were not naked,” Jack snapped. “We were in our pajamas. And we didn’t even come from the same rooms when she saw us. We met in the hallway because of the dead guy. Second, he wasn’t dead when he knocked on Charlie’s door. In fact, he didn’t knock. He tried to force his way in. It was a traumatic event for her.”

  “I wasn’t really traumatized,” I corrected, smiling gratefully at the waitress as she delivered a fresh cup of coffee. “Oh, this smells great. I’m excited. I need the caffeine.”

  “I bet you do,” Millie teased.

  “Stop that.” Jack shot her a warning look. “This is not the time for your nonsense. We have other things to discuss. For example ... what are they talking about?” He inclined his chin toward the distracted detective and our boss. “Apparently we should’ve gotten down here earlier if we wanted the scoop.”

  “I believe I told you that,” I offered.

  He shot me a look. “Order your blueberry pancakes and sausage.”

  “I was actually thinking of French toast today.”

  “Oh, shaking it up. Nice.” Even though I could tell he was agitated, he smiled ... and then narrowed his eyes when Thibodeaux shifted in his chair and finally turned his full attention on us. “Oh, great. Good morning, detective. How are you this fine day?”

  I recognized the sarcasm and knew Jack was walking a fine line. That was the only reason I opted to keep my mouth shut.

  “Mr. Hanson.” Thibodeaux let loose a smile that was more grimace than grin. “I hear you had an adventure last night. I was on the scene, but I didn’t get a chance to talk to you for very long.”

  “What I want to know is why I’m only hearing about it now,” Chris complained. “Don’t you think I should’ve been made aware of what was happening with my own people?”

  “I planned to tell you this morning.” Jack was calm as he dumped cream in his coffee. “It was late when we got back last night. It was after midnight. I figured everyone was already sleeping, which is exactly what we wanted to do because we’d had a long day. I had no way of knowing that our friend would escape from the hospital and follow us. In fact, I’m kind of curious how he managed it.”

  “That makes two of us,” Thibodeaux supplied. “We’re not sure how he ended up here either.”

  “I’m assuming he somehow heard the responding officers talking at the scene. We told the office
r we were talking to — I believe his name was Pasquale — where we were staying when he questioned us. That guy wasn’t close when we did so we figure Pasquale told one of the other officers.”

  “I guess that’s possible, but that doesn’t change our real problem,” Thibodeaux noted.

  “And what’s our real problem?” I asked.

  “The fact that the gentleman in question was declared dead at the hospital about twenty minutes after he was transported from the scene. He didn’t get up and wander away from the hospital. He was locked in a meat locker at the coroner’s office.”

  I was officially flabbergasted. “What?”

  “You heard me.” Thibodeaux’s tone turned accusatory. “What do you have to say about that?”

  “Wait a second ... you’re not blaming her for this, are you?” Jack’s eyes flashed with anger as he stared down the detective. “She didn’t do anything, so if you’re trying to blame her for this you can just walk yourself right back through that door.”

  “Calm down,” Chris ordered, shooting Jack a curious but cautionary look. “I don’t think Detective Thibodeaux is blaming Charlie.”

  “Not Charlie alone, certainly,” Thibodeaux agreed. “I am, however, curious about how you arranged for this to happen. I’m asking you that question, Mr. Biggs, not Ms. Rhodes. I don’t think she has the capability to set this up on her own. She needed help.”

  “Help for what?” I was still confused. “What did I set up?”

  “This hoax.”

  “Hoax?” I looked at Jack to see if I was misreading the conversation, but the fury on his face told me the exact opposite.

  “Don’t accuse her of something like that.” Jack’s tone was icy as he gripped his coffee mug. “She was the victim last night. She woke up to someone trying to get into her room.”

  “And yet you and Ms. Rhodes are the only ones who saw this man actually on his feet,” Thibodeaux countered. “I asked the night doorman. He didn’t see anyone fitting the description of our dead man – who still hasn’t been identified, mind you – entering the premises. I find the fact that members of your group are the only ones who saw him rather suspect.”

  Chris pinned Laura with a look. “You saw him, right? I know you’re part of our group and that doesn’t do much to shake his argument, but you saw him.”

  Laura was clearly uncomfortable with the question. “He was on the ground. I wasn’t really paying attention. I was more interested in the fact that Jack was practically naked and Charlie was wearing fuzzy unicorn pants.”

  “I was not naked,” Jack snapped. “And Charlie’s pants were fine.”

  “Right.” Laura rolled her eyes. “I wasn’t paying attention to the guy on the floor, but I’m pretty sure I didn’t see him moving.”

  “See.” Thibodeaux threw his hands in the air, as if Laura had just proved his point.

  “That doesn’t matter.” Chris refused to back down. “Jack and Charlie saw him. That’s enough for me.”

  “Technically, Jack didn’t see him,” I interjected, realizing too late that I should’ve kept my mouth shut.

  “What do you mean?” Chris’s face was blank.

  “I had already knocked him down by the time Jack got to the hallway,” I replied, my heart sinking at the look on my boss’s face. “He only came out because he heard the noise from the painting falling. I grabbed it and hit the guy over the head with it after it fell the first time, but Jack wasn’t around for any of that.”

  “It’s even worse than I thought.” Thibodeaux made a clucking sound with his tongue. “She did orchestrate this on her own.”

  “She did not.” Jack found his voice. “She was minding her own business when someone tried to get into her room. She didn’t somehow manage to sneak out of the hotel, break into the morgue, drag a body back here and then set up a fake attack. That’s more ludicrous than believing in zombies.”

  Thibodeaux’s expression darkened. “Obviously she didn’t do it on her own. Someone had to help. I’m guessing it was someone in your group. The two of you are always joined at the hip, so I’m leaning toward you.”

  “I’m pretty sure they’re joined at other places,” Laura muttered.

  Millie didn’t say anything, but the way she moved her arm — and the small yelp Laura let loose — told me she was probably pinching Laura by way of punishment.

  “We didn’t fake this,” Chris said, folding his arms over his chest. “That’s not what we do. The Legacy Foundation is about finding scientific proof, not lying to create a media firestorm.”

  “Really? Would the people in St. Pete Beach believe the same thing? Weren’t you just there looking for a prehistoric shark?”

  “After someone killed an author and tried to make it look like a shark attack,” Chris confirmed. “We didn’t create that situation. We were called there to investigate. We proved it was a human killer. If we were all about creating news coverage for ourselves, why would we do that?”

  “That’s right.” Jack sounded bitter as he leaned forward and pinned Thibodeaux with a dark look. “Charlie figured out who the killer was there, too. She was in danger at the end. Don’t start accusing her of unethical actions. You don’t know anything about her.”

  “Fine. I apologize.” Thibodeaux held his hands up in surrender but his gaze was filled with fire. “I think we need to come to agreement, though. You people need to stay out of my investigation. That’s the only way we can coexist.”

  “No.” Chris immediately started shaking his head. “That’s not how we operate. We’re going to keep up our end of the investigation. If you don’t like it, well, that’s just too bad. We don’t work for you. We’re going to do exactly what we want. If you don’t like that, well, take it up with my uncle. He’s the boss.”

  “I will take it up with him.”

  “Go for it,” Millie suggested. “I think you’ll find that Myron isn’t as easily bullied as you believe. If he were, we’d still be married.”

  “Well ... then I guess we’re at a standstill.” Thibodeaux slowly stood. “I’ll be in touch.”

  “We’re looking forward to it,” Jack drawled, slapping a menu into my hands before focusing his full attention on me. “So ... pancakes, French toast and hash browns?”

  I knew he was trying to lighten the mood and I appreciated it. Still, I could feel Thibodeaux’s eyes burning into me and I felt even more awkward than usual. “Sure. Sounds good.”

  Ten

  Chris was so annoyed with Jack and me that he suggested we investigate the case on our own. He added a passive-aggressive “since that’s what you really want to do anyway because you guys clearly consider yourself the A team,” which I found frustrating but knew better than to argue.

  For his part, Jack didn’t seem bothered by Chris’s huffy attitude. He pulled out his phone, held a finger up that indicated I should wait for him to tell me what to do, and then disappeared in the lobby to place his call. Only Millie and Hannah were still at the breakfast table, which was a relief, because I didn’t want to deal with Laura’s mouth again.

  “It sounds like you had quite the adventure last night,” Millie noted. She was calm. I could tell she wanted to ask invasive questions — like if I used my magic — but she was smart enough not to do it in front of Hannah. I didn’t worry that Hannah would start screaming “witch” and try to run from me. That’s not how she was wired. However, she was a scientist. I’d suffered horrible dreams about her trying to lock me in a cage so she could experiment on me multiple times since joining the group. I had no idea if she would actually do that, but I wasn’t willing to risk it.

  “It wasn’t supposed to be an adventure,” I argued. “We were supposed to have dinner, eat bugs he had to rip the heads off of before I could stick them in my mouth, and go on a haunted tour. It didn’t really end up that way.”

  “You went on a haunted tour?” Hannah looked interested. “Which one? Chris will need something to get him out of his funk. That’s right up
his alley.”

  “Here.” I dug in my pocket and came back with a business card. “It was really good.”

  “Did you learn anything?”

  “Yes. I learned when a zombie gets hit by a car to keep walking. Never stop.”

  Millie snorted as Hannah got to her feet.

  “Thank you for this,” Hannah offered. “As for Chris, he’s disappointed he missed out. He’ll be over it in a few hours. Just stick with Jack and everyone will be working together again before you know it.”

  “I appreciate that.” I meant it. “We didn’t go out looking for zombies. Trust me. That’s not ever going to be on Jack’s to-do list.”

  Hannah cracked a smile. “No, I don’t suppose so. Everything will be fine.”

  Once she was gone and it was just Millie and me, the older woman wasted no time getting to the heart of matters. “What really happened in the hallway?”

  “How do you know we’re not telling the truth?”

  “Because you have one of those faces that tells every truth without saying a word if you know how to read it. When Thibodeaux mentioned the painting falling on the dead guy’s head, you had the look. I’m guessing that means you used your ... gift ... to make that happen.”

  I glanced around to make sure nobody was listening. “He took me by surprise. It was the only thing heavy enough to use as a weapon. I smacked him over the head with it three times and then he fell down.”

  “What did you tell Jack?”

  “I didn’t tell him anything. He just assumed we were grappling and somehow the painting fell. I didn’t really confirm or deny it.”

  “Well, that’s good.” Millie leaned back in her chair, contemplative. “What are you going to do next?”

  That was a good question. “Jack doesn’t want to hear it, but that guy was acting odd from the start. I think he was already a zombie when he was struck in the road. He was just standing there, staring, and yet not seeing anything.

  “The car hit him really hard,” I continued. “It was gross. Like ... so gross. And I actually covered my eyes. Jack immediately went to check on him, but it was obvious it was too late. You can tell when someone is dead.”