Grim and Bear It

by Paula Lester

  Grim and Bear It

  A Tessa Randolph Cozy Mystery, Volume 1

  Christine Zane Thomas and Paula Lester

  Published by Paula Lester and Christine Zane Thomas, 2020.

  This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

  GRIM AND BEAR IT

  First edition. April 29, 2020.

  Copyright © 2020 Christine Zane Thomas and Paula Lester.

  Written by Christine Zane Thomas and Paula Lester.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Also By Christine Zane Thomas

  About Christine Zane Thomas

  About Paula Lester

  Chapter 1

  It was a horrible day for escorting recently dead people to the other side. Truly nasty, with a chilly, persistent rain and a general gray haze in the air that seemed as though it had the ability to cling to a person like the muslin wrappings of a long-dead mummy.

  Not that any day could be considered a great one for reaping souls, but since it was Tessa Randolph’s first day on the job, she’d been hoping for sunshine and warmth. An inkling told her that reaping was neither an indoor nor outdoor job but a little bit of both. Still, she hoped the day would be mostly about paperwork.

  Isn’t that the norm? She was sure she’d be watching instructional videos and filling out the necessary tax forms all day. Then again, this wasn’t a normal job.

  Tessa’s key slid from the car’s ignition as if it wasn’t even required. She patted the dashboard. “You don’t like the wet weather either, do you, Linda?”

  The 1981 Buick LeSabre didn’t answer but shuddered a bit as its engine responded belatedly to the cue to stop running.

  The old four-door behemoth might as well be a tank. She’d gotten away unscathed from two accidents, keeping Tessa safe too. And she couldn’t be coaxed to move more than sixty miles per hour. But Tessa loved her and babied the car like an aging relative. And Linda had never left Tessa on the side of the road, unlike her last boyfriend.

  Tessa’s thin knit cardigan sagged over her shoulder, and she pulled it tighter around her chest. She peered at the building in front of her. It was a nondescript, squat gray brick structure with no obvious windows. The wooden sign over the front door said Cooper’s Life Insurance. It was broken right in the center, the two halves sagging. The walkway to the front door was similarly run-down, with cracked concrete jutting up at odd angles, creating trip hazards galore. The hedges in front of the building didn’t appear to have been trimmed for at least a decade, resembling jungle plants more than suburban landscaping.

  Tessa bent her neck to gaze above the depressing scene. A dark cloud hung right over the building. She sighed.

  It wasn’t a life insurance company—that was just a ruse to keep humans away from the place, as was the atmosphere of creepy deterioration of the grounds.

  For the hundredth time in the past week, Tessa wondered how, exactly, she’d gotten to this point in her life. She was starting a new job she had zero interest in doing, with a boss she’d rather shave her head and give up all her beloved purses than work for.

  She ran her hands through thick black hair, mentally sending it an apology for even thinking about getting rid of it. It was truly her most favorite feature, and she identified with it, spending hours every week keeping it soft and healthy. Still, if it meant she didn’t have to start the new job, Tessa may very well have sacrificed the swoon-worthy locks.

  With all the reluctance of a toddler heading off to sleep for the night, Tessa grabbed the brown Burberry knockoff bag from the seat next to her, clutched it tightly to her chest, and zoomed out of the car. She raced for the building, thankful for all the years spent in dance class as she deftly avoided the broken pieces of concrete and burst into the business’ lobby. The heavy door slammed behind her as Tessa stood there taking it in, dripping rainwater into a pool beneath her on the floor.

  “You know, most civilized people would use an umbrella.”

  The sharp voice, oozing with self-righteousness, seemed to physically attack Tessa’s ears. She had to fight the urge to run away—she couldn’t escape to her room like she always had as a teen.

  Instead, she smiled at the speaker as graciously as she could muster. “Actually, I find the rain refreshing. And a little water never made anyone melt, Mom.”

  Cheryl Randolph stood leaning on the doorjamb of her office, her arms crossed. She’d provided the genetics for Tessa’s dark hair but kept hers in a sassy inverted bob with frosted tips. She regarded her daughter through red cat-eye glasses. Her glittering blue eyes, also the same color as Tessa’s, showed no indication she was going to take it easy on her daughter. Quite the opposite.

  She pursed her lips, covered with a shade of lipstick that matched her eyewear exactly, and then smirked. “You’re a reaper, not a witch. So, you’re right. Rain won’t melt you. But it will ruin your makeup.”

  Tessa rolled her eyes. “Good thing I didn’t wear makeup today.”

  “Or ever,” her mother retorted smartly.

  Tessa frowned, looking down at her feet. Her mother was the queen of the one-up. They could stand there all day trading jabs, but she knew her mom would always get in the last punch. And Cheryl was right. Contrary to what she’d said, Tessa absolutely hated rain and chilly weather. Her idea of heaven involved flip-flops, a beach chair, and a margarita.

  Maybe she should have worn galoshes. Instead, she’d chosen comfort, wearing her baby blue Converse sneakers and skinny jeans. After all, her mother hadn’t mentioned anything about a dress code.

  Cheryl dismissed Tessa’s bravado with a wave. “Come on. Let’s get you started.” She glanced at the Rolex on her delicate wrist. “You need to be at your first assignment in twenty minutes.”

  Tessa groaned. Of course, she’d already been given an assignment.

  Her Chuck Taylors felt like they had tiny lead weights in them as she shuffled toward her mother’s office.

  The inside of the building was a stark contrast to the outside. The lobby floor was green and beige swirled marble. It was lined by six office doors in a ring. A large desk stood in the center of the wall directly across from the front door, but it was unmanned at the moment. Well, thank goodness for small miracles. The secretary was even more annoying than Tessa’s mom.

  A large sign made up of bronze metal letters hung on the wall above the desk, proclaiming the actual name of the business to be The Final Journey Agency.

  Tessa snorted, just as she had a week earlier when she saw the name for the first time. If a human happened to get through the dismal exterior and make it inside looking for life insurance, the name wouldn’t let them know what the place actually was—a reaper agency—but it would be quite the downer.

  Until a week earlier, Tessa hadn’t had any idea such places existed. She’d certainly never known her mother worked for one. She’d received quite an education about the original Grim Reaper and how, centuries earlier, overwhelmed by the boom in the world’s population, he’d contracted out his duties.

  Apparently, the original Grim Reaper now lived in the lap of luxury somewhere in the Caribbean
while others, mere mortals magically imbued with his mystical abilities to transport souls across the veil between worlds, did all the heavy lifting for him.

  The corners of Tessa’s mouth twitched downward. She’d needed a change, that was for sure. When that ex-boyfriend, Frank, left her on the side of the road, she’d spent two hours soul-searching as she trudged home. And she’d decided to completely overhaul her life. Get a real career instead of continuing the waitressing job that had sapped the life force out of her for ten years.

  Besides, she was pretty sure if Frank didn’t want her as a girlfriend, he probably wouldn’t continue to employ her at his restaurant either. What made it worse was all the overtime pay he’d promised her. She was never going to see that.

  In the past, in dire circumstances such as these, she’d ask her dad for help. But that was the past. Tessa had to make the painful decision to go to her mother and ask for a loan to float her while she went back to school to become a nurse.

  But Cheryl had other ideas. It turned out she’d recently been promoted and needed to train a replacement.

  Tessa hadn’t liked the idea of becoming a life insurance agent, but there wasn’t much choice. Reluctantly, she’d gone to the agency with her mother and learned the truth.

  Cheryl’s office was a minimalist’s dream. A glass desk, holding only a laptop, stood against the far wall, flanked by two black office chairs that looked so uncomfortable they seemed specifically designed to discourage sitting. The walls, painted a light rose color, were devoid of any pictures—not a one of Tessa or her father. Only a clock, which ticked louder than any Tessa had encountered in her life, hung on the otherwise blank canvas. Two silver metal filing cabinets and a coat rack with an umbrella and raincoat hanging on it completed the room’s décor, if one decided to use that term liberally.

  Tessa plopped into the chair, drawing a critical frown from her mother. But Cheryl didn’t correct her posture. She went around to the other side of the desk, lowered herself gracefully into the chair, all the while maintaining her usual ramrod-straight posture. She clicked a few keys on the laptop. “You’re all set.”

  “I’m set? I thought you said you had to perform a ceremony to grant me my abilities?” Tessa had pictured something like a sprinkling of fairy dust or an ordainment with a scythe.

  “That was it.” Cheryl’s eyes stayed glued to her laptop screen. “You’re a grim reaper. Your first assignment is out at the Sweetwater Golf Course. Mr. Dale Jeffries.”

  Cheryl spun the laptop around so Tessa could see the picture of a balding elderly man wearing thick-rimmed glasses. He was beaming with good-natured spirit.

  Tessa scanned the paragraph below the photo to see how he was going to die and grimaced. “Harsh.”

  “It’s not so bad, really. You’ll encounter much worse.” Cheryl’s perfectly manicured eyebrows rose like butterflies caught on a gentle breeze. “It’s not a hard job, Theresa. All you have to do is show up, and you can make a mint. It’s showing up. That’s the important bit.”

  “Tessa,” she corrected, trying not to grimace at the use of her full name and to ignore the pleading tone in her mother’s voice.

  Sure, her mother wanted good things for her. But this was a hard job. She’d lost countless hours of sleep over it in the past week. She liked the idea of gently aiding the recently deceased on to the next point in their journey, but she wasn’t anxious to be there in the final moments of their lives.

  Still, she’d read the contract carefully, and it was a non-negotiable part of her job. She wouldn’t get paid for any assignment if it were missed. And if it was missed, there could be dire consequences. That was where the contract was vague.

  “Fine. I guess I’ll head over now.” Tessa rose and headed out, stopping in the doorway to launch a question over her shoulder. “Wait. Isn’t that the golf course Dad liked to play so much?”

  Cheryl’s expression visibly softened, and she nodded. “He never shot under par, but he kept on trying.” She blinked a few times as though something had gotten into her eye and then grinned. “Have a good time, The—Tessa,” Cheryl corrected.

  “I’ll try.” Tessa snatched the umbrella off the coat rack and left.

  Outside, the rain had turned to a drizzle. Linda grumbled like a slumbering beast woken by a gallant knight when Tessa turned the key in the ignition. “Come on, girl. Mama needs a paycheck.”

  The car let out an irritated breath and then roared to life. Tessa hooted and fist-pumped. “Good girl!” she cried.

  The weather began to clear up as she drove to the golf course, and Tessa even rolled down the window and turned on the radio. I Wanna Dance with Somebody blared from the speakers, and she sang along with abandon until she pulled into the golf club parking lot where the sun was shining.

  Just like her father always joked, it never rains on the golf course.

  Managing to slide past the front desk workers, Tessa went through the clubhouse and emerged onto a putting green, breathing in the smell of freshly cut grass. Ah. This was more like it.

  She glanced at her watch, frowning a little. Dale Jeffries was supposed to pass away in four minutes, but it seemed highly unlikely to occur the way the assignment had said it would, given the current weather conditions.

  From the green, she scanned the course and saw a group of golfers up on the final tee. She wandered that direction and immediately recognized her target.

  He saw her too and approached, grinning. “Hey, sweetheart. Can you bring me a beer and some pretzels? I’ll give you a good tip.” He winked, obviously thinking she was a cart girl.

  Tessa narrowed her eyes at the man. She’d spent enough years waitressing and should probably be used to men taking liberties—talking their cutesy, degrading terms and giving thinly veiled orders. But she wasn’t. She still wanted to deck every guy who did it, including this one.

  But it wasn’t necessary to put Dale in his place. Anyway, she’d soon be delivering him to a new plane of existence. Then maybe he’d learn.

  “I’m all out of pretzels,” she said, putting up the umbrella in her hand, gazing ruefully at him.

  As though someone had flipped off a light switch, the sky suddenly darkened, only to brighten again almost immediately by a flash of lightning. The thunder followed it so closely they seemed to overlap, and a sheet of heavy rain poured down like someone had turned on a faucet. “You should get inside. The lightning’s close.”

  She knew it was probably against the rules for her to say such a thing. Dale Jeffries was her mark, and saying anything that may cause him to avoid his scheduled death had to be forbidden.

  It didn’t matter, though. Dale just shook his head, sending rain droplets spraying all over the place. “Bah,” he scoffed. “I’m having the best round of my life. There’s no way I’m going in now. One more shot. Then, even if I two-putt, I’ll win.”

  The other three men in his party hurried past, racing for the clubhouse, but Dale turned back to the cart, searching for the club he wanted. Finding it, he held it over his head in triumph.

  He never saw the lightning strike coming, and when Dale’s soul emerged from his body, it looked hopping mad. “What? Now? Now is when I die? When I was going to hit under eighty!” He shook both transparent fists in the air and raged at the storm in the sky. “Why?”

  His angry cry ended on a sob, and he covered his face.

  “I’m sorry,” Tessa said. She meant it. Sort of. “But it’s time to go. I have to take you over now.”

  Dale peered at her between his fingers. “I’m going to heaven with a cart girl?”

  “No,” she snapped. “You’re being escorted to the other side of the veil by a professional reaper. That’s me. Now, let’s go. My socks and shoes are soaked. And this caps one of the worst weeks of my life.”

  “Life,” Dale said sadly. “At least you’ve still got one.”

  Chapter 2

  Tessa groaned as she shuffled through envelopes she’d pulled out of the tiny m
etal cubbyhole marked 114. All three were bills. Of course. But really, what was she expecting? A check from Frank for all her back pay and overtime?

  She snorted. He’d made it pretty clear they were finished. And that he was done dealing with her.

  She stared at the empty mailbox, part of a long bank of them in the small room attached to the Mist River Manor lobby, thinking it would’ve been nice to see a rebate flyer. Or maybe a coupon for a few bucks off a pizza. This was what it came down to—wishing for junk mail. For anything except multiple demands for money she didn’t have.

  Tessa sighed and stuffed the envelopes into her purse. She took a second to caress the soft material. At least she still had her knock-offs. And a new job that should help her get caught up quickly.

  She squeezed the bag to her side like a child might hug a favorite stuffed animal for comfort and turned away from the bank of mailboxes, gasping as she found herself face-to-face with a man.

  “Oh! Sorry, Mr. Sanborn. I didn’t see you there.” Tessa shrunk backward. She pulled the bag in front of her, close to her chest, as though it could somehow create more space between the two of them. Chet Sanborn was inside her bubble, and he was in the way.

  Sanborn lived directly above Tessa, on the second floor. She saw him around sometimes but did her level best to avoid him. He was an unpleasant man who always managed to make Tessa’s skin crawl with his ogling. And if his leering eyes weren’t enough, sometimes he added lewd comments to the mix.

  He waved away her apology. “Call me Chet.”

  He said that every time they had an interaction. Tessa never complied. Somehow, using his last name felt like keeping him at figurative arm’s length. If only he was at literal arm’s length right now.

  Sanborn leaned in, closer to both his mailbox and Tessa. “And being run into by you would be no hardship, ma’am.” He grinned. “I’ll tell you that.”

  Sanborn hitched up his gray polyester shorts. The waistband was being sorely tested by his ample middle section. The orange tank top was similarly strained and couldn’t quite manage its job of covering the bottom of his furry abdomen.