by Paula Lester
Gloria winked an eyelid expertly coated in sparkly mauve shadow. “Yeah, girl. Come with me. I’ll show you how it’s done.”
Gloria’s car started without issue, causing Tessa to feel a jolt of jealously. It would really be nice to have a car that started every time you turned the key in the ignition.
Tessa pushed uncharitable thoughts about Linda away, irrationally afraid that the car would hear her and act even more stubborn.
She wanted to chitchat with Gloria—ask her where she bought her makeup. But they weren’t really on good footing just yet. So, she settled on talking about work. “Who’s the mark?”
“His name’s James Parsons. Car accident.” Gloria shook her head. “He’s been a heavy drinker for years and had a lot of near misses. That ends this morning. He’s been drinking all night. Should’ve just slept in the truck for a while instead of trying to get home.”
“That’s not good.”
“At least he isn’t taking anyone with him.” She glanced at Tessa, who kept her eyes on the scenery outside. “Word is you had a rotten first day.”
“It could have been better, that’s for sure. I lost a soul.”
Gloria pulled the car onto a wide spot on the shoulder. She got out and leaned against the hood. Tessa followed her, looking around. “This is where it’s going to happen?”
The lovely reaper nodded. “Yep. James isn’t going to be able to make that turn.” She gestured toward the hairpin curve in the road they faced before glancing at her watch. “We’re about five minutes early. Perfect timing.” She shot an apologetic look at Tessa. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to—"
“I get it,” Tessa replied. “I need to watch the time better. Don’t worry. I’m not going to be late for an assignment ever again. Not only would it be risking my job, which I have no business doing right now—because I’d rapidly become homeless—but apparently it also risks causing a tear in the universe or something crazy like that.”
“Is that what Cheryl said? Spirit apocalypse?”
“Basically, yeah.”
Gloria snorted. “I know she’s your mom and all, but I gotta tell ya—she can be a little . . . much.”
The rumbling of tires drew both of their attention to the road.
In the next instant, a rusty blue pickup truck appeared, careening through the curve without taking it. James Parsons never hit the brakes. The truck soared off the road and smashed into a huge oak tree in a cacophony of tearing metal that made both reapers cover their ears.
It was immediately apparent that there was no way the driver could have lived. The front of the truck was crumpled like an accordion, pushing the bumper almost into the bed.
Gloria crossed the road and stood a foot in front of the truck, hands on her hips, watching as James’ spirit rose through the broken roof of the truck. The sound of the vehicle’s fluids dripping onto the ground mixed with the spirit’s wails.
“Come on, now, James. You had to know you were flirting with death, driving around like that for all these years.” Gloria made a clucking sound and shook her head. “Don’t act shocked.”
The spirit tried to focus on the reaper, but his half-transparent form seemed unsteady. “Who said that?” he slurred.
“I did.” Gloria snapped her fingers a few times. “Right here. I’m your guide to the other side. So let’s go.”
“Other . . . what?”
“Let’s go,” Gloria repeated. “I haven’t got all day. You’re due in the spirit world.”
James shook his head, and his spirit toppled that direction, upending over and over like a crazy, out of control top. Tessa crossed the road to stand next to Gloria. “His spirit is acting as drunk as his live body was. How is that possible?”
“Oh, people’s spirits sometimes don’t adjust to being dead for a few minutes or more,” Gloria explained. Then she shouted toward the opaque figure, “James! You’re dead! Let’s get a move on!” She lifted a hand and waved it toward the dead man and suddenly, he stopped tumbling. He drifted toward the reapers as though held in a force field. “Sometimes you gotta take control or they’ll run.”
“And I guess they don’t all wait around for their reaper if you aren’t exactly on time,” Tessa grumbled.
“Some do. Some don’t,” Gloria conceded. “But I’ll let you in on a little secret. It’s probably not quite as dire as your mom’s making it out to be. She’s a corporate yes-man. She’s always toeing the line. And I’m not saying it’s ever happened to me, but sometimes a soul just isn’t quite ready to leave.”
“I’m not ready!” James cried, sounding less slurred than he had initially.
“Too bad,” Gloria snapped before turning back to Tessa. “Maybe your guy has a reason for sticking around. Like he wants to see his loved ones one last time at his funeral. Or . . . hey, wasn’t it a murder? I know—he probably wants to see his killer caught. Hang on. I’ll be right back.”
Gloria used her reaper power to pull James to within a few inches of her body and, as Tessa watched, they both shimmered, growing less tangible by the second, until they winked out of sight.
Tessa crossed the road and got in Gloria’s car to wait for her return, wondering whether the other reaper was right about Sanborn. Was he trying to evade crossing to the other side on purpose? All so he could see his killer behind bars. It made sense, the more she thought about it. Tessa could imagine feeling the same way in his shoes.
And Gloria had made her feel a bit better about the whole situation—unlike Cheryl. Maybe Tessa had time to find Sanborn and help him cross the veil before something crazy happened.
But how?
All of a sudden, she knew the answer. If it was true that Sanborn was staying to ensure his killer was caught, then if Tessa found the murderer, she’d find Chet Sanborn.
Chapter 6
“You know, you are way too fickle,” Tessa lectured Linda. “I mean, seriously. Today, you star like it’s nothing and yesterday—when I really needed you, I might add, you let me down. Listen up, old girl. You’re really going to have to shape up if you expect me to keep dumping my hard-earned money into you.”
Tessa pulled into the Mist River Manor parking lot, brought the car to a stop in the reserved spot for apartment 114, and shut off the engine.
In a gentler tone, she said, “You know I love you, right? That’s the only reason I haven’t traded you in for a newer model.”
They both knew that wasn’t true. There was no way Tessa could afford a new car. But she figured it was good to keep some fear of the junkyard in Linda’s mind.
Grabbing the bank envelope off the passenger seat, she hopped out of the car. Cheryl had agreed to pay Tessa for the first job, the one at the golf course. Now she could pay her rent. Of course, she’d had to endure her mother’s smug attitude as Cheryl wrote the check. But Tessa had decades of practice dealing with that.
Silas was in the lobby, tool bag open at his feet, replacing a chipped tile near the reception desk. A man of many talents.
He glanced up when Tessa’s shadow fell over his work. “Oh, hey.”
“I have that rent for you.” She held out the envelope.
Silas looked surprised. He got to his feet, dusted off his jeans, and accepted the envelope. “Thanks.”
Tessa turned to leave, already thinking about having a nice salami sandwich before heading back to work. She shuddered at the thought that reaping souls already felt like a typical job.
“Oh, by the way,” Silas called after her. “ A couple of guys came through here asking about you earlier. I told them I thought you were out at your new job.”
Guys? What guys? Tessa wondered who would be looking for her. Could they be from the reaper agency, perhaps someone higher up than Cheryl, wanting to talk to her about the Sanborn debacle? But why? Her mother seemed to have the Tessa-lecturing firmly in hand, and Gloria had all but skirted the matter under the rug.
Tessa wracked her brain, trying to remember if she owed anyone else money but came u
p blank.
Then she realized who they must be.
Officer Stewart had said the police department may want to question her again. That had to be it. She trudged toward the door leading to her hallway, feeling low on energy.
As she drew near the end of the short hall before it spilled out to the longer corridor her apartment was on, Tessa heard banging. Someone was knocking hard on a door. Then, a male voice said, “Does Theresa Randolph live here?”
They banged again.
Tessa stopped short. A war was going on inside her. Part of her wanted to correct the guy . . . her name was Tessa—whatever her birth certificate said. But the rest of her wanted to stay out of sight.
However, if it was the police officers wanting to talk to her, she knew it was probably a better idea to present herself. She didn’t want to get on the wrong side of the Mystic River Police Department.
But she really didn’t have time. She didn’t want to be questioned for hours on a subject she couldn’t reveal to the police. She needed to find Chet Sanborn’s spirit.
Slowly and carefully, Tessa peeked one eye around the corner. Two men stood towering over her neighbor, Mrs. Cross, who craned her neck upward and scowled at them.
“Wrong apartment,” she barked. “That girl lives next door.” The elderly woman jerked a thumb toward Tessa’s apartment before slamming the door in the men’s faces.
Tessa frowned. She didn’t recognize either of them. They weren’t uniformed officers, and they didn’t give off the vibe of plain clothes detectives either. One looked around thirty-five and was really tall—Tessa guessed around six foot two—with reddish brown hair in a man bun, khaki linen capris, and black Birkenstocks. Definitely not a regular police-issue uniform. But why would they send undercover cops to question her about Sanborn’s death?
Tessa knew the answer to that one. They wouldn’t.
The other guy stood only to the first guy’s shoulder. He wore black denim jeans and a black shirt with a red skull on the front. A black leather wrist cuff and boots completed the biker look. He appeared to be in his mid-fifties and had a scarred face that roughly imitated a vertical rectangle.
The first guy threw up his hands. “She’s not here.”
“Or she’s not answering.” The second guy’s voice was as rough as he looked. He snickered. “We could always break in. Or are you too much of a sissy for that, Maddox?”
“I’m not a sissy, Horner.”
Tessa had to bite back a giggle at the name.
“I just don’t want to go to jail today,” Maddox said. “So, let’s go, okay?”
Tessa darted back into the lobby before the men could spot her. She had no idea who they were, but if they were considering breaking into her apartment to find her, she knew they weren’t good. And she didn’t want to run into them face-to-face.
She dove into the only obvious hiding spot in the room—behind the reception desk. From his spot on the floor near the tool bag, Silas gave her a puzzled look. She used her hand to make a cutting motion across her throat and then jabbed a thumb behind her, where the two men were just emerging from the hall.
Silas’ face registered understanding. He jerked his gaze to the task at hand, away from Tessa.
Maddox and Horner left without saying anything to the landlord, and Tessa popped up, peering out the front window to see which vehicle they got into.
“What’s going on?” Silas moved the tools behind the counter.
“Were those the guys you were talking about?”
“Yeah, why?”
“They were just banging on my door. I don’t know them.”
“And?”
“And they seemed to be a bit . . . questionable.” She made for the glass door of the lobby. “I think I’m going to follow them.”
Tessa wasn’t sure when she’d made that decision, but it seemed like a solid one. She had a hunch that those guys had something to do with Mr. Sanborn’s death. Of course, she had no proof. But how else was she going to find Mr. Sanborn’s spirit? The pair of goons was her only lead.
“Do you think that’s safe?” Silas asked. “How questionable are we talking?”
“They thought about breaking in.”
“That sounds highly questionable.”
“I’ll be careful.” Tessa jogged across the parking lot as the white Toyota Camry carrying Maddox and Horner pulled away.
She jumped into Linda and twisted the key in the ignition. The car sputtered and died, refusing to make any effort at all when Tessa tried again.
Tessa growled in frustration. “You know what? That’s it. I’m getting a new car! You’re going to the junkyard, missy!”
Silas, who’d followed her out, stood several feet away watching. “I think that’s for the best.”
“Can you drive me?”
“Are you serious?” Silas looked shocked. “Following those guys seems like a terrible idea.”
“It might. But I think waiting around for them to find me again is a worse idea, don’t you?”
He ran a hand through his hair, making it flop over one eye, so he had to push at it again. “I guess you’re right. Come on.” He crossed the lot to a shiny blue Silverado and climbed in.
Tessa ran to get in the passenger side. “Hurry! We’re going to lose them.”
“Hold your horses. We won’t lose them.” He maneuvered the truck onto the street and stepped on the gas, roaring through a stop sign at the next intersection.
Tessa scanned the area looking for the Camry and biting her lower lip. Silas’ truck wasn’t exactly inconspicuous. Hopefully, it wouldn’t draw the goons’ attention.
“There!” She pointed to the right, where she could just see the back corner of the Camry as it turned onto another street.
Silas gunned the engine, following the Camry at speed but had to ease back when they caught up too fast.
“Looks like they’re heading out of town.”
“Stay with them,” Tessa pleaded. “I want to see where they go.”
“You got it.” He smirked a little, almost like he was having fun. “But I still think this is a terrible idea. If those guys are up to no good, shouldn’t we call the police or something?”
Tessa imagined Officer Stewart’s eye roll if she called and told him some guys were knocking on her door. “I don’t have any evidence other than what I just overheard. I don’t think the cops would be able to do anything with that.”
Silas nodded.
“We’ll just see where they go and maybe get a little more information.”
“They’re going to the casino.”
Silas pulled into the parking lot and then found a spot at the edge of the lot. They watched Maddox and Horner get out of the Camry, which had pulled into the valet lane. Horner tossed the keys to the young attendant, who caught them awkwardly. They didn’t ask for a ticket. The two headed inside.
“Thanks for the lift.” Tessa hopped out of the truck and started to hurry across the lot.
“Hey!” Silas had rolled down the passenger window and leaned over to call out to her. “Are you sure you want to go in there? If those guys really were looking for you, you’ve essentially done their job for them.”
“I’m just going to see if I can figure out who they are.” But she knew Silas was right. “I’ll stay out of their way,” she said. “And I’ll get a cab back to the apartment when I’m done.” She waved and smiled cheerfully to encourage Silas along.
He frowned, uneasy to let her go. Reluctantly, he put the window up and eased out of the parking spot.
Inside, it only took Tessa a few seconds to remember why she hated casinos. They were smoky, crowded, noisy, and smelled like desperation.
She scanned the area looking for Maddox and Horner before easing into the main room. Slot machines jangled and clanged. Waitresses circulated the floor, carrying drink trays to the gamblers, most of whom, she realized, had the look of Mr. Sanborn. Chubby, bald, or both—with hairy triceps. They stared at the mach
ines without paying attention to much else.
Tessa began to snake through the tangled path of slot machines, clearly set up to dissuade people from finding their way out. As she went, she kept an eye out for the goons. She didn’t catch a glimpse of either man, but she did see a guy she knew a little from her waitressing job at Frank’s restaurant. He was playing blackjack in a side room. She darted past the doorway so he wouldn’t see her.
The guy was someone she’d always groaned to see coming into the restaurant. Another Chet Sanborn type. He had a horrible, ill-fitting toupee of thick black hair that swooped over his forehead. She’d watched it fall into his face a time or two when he’d slumped over the bar. He was missing a front tooth. But he put out airs like a suave gentleman, donning a fake Italian accent and making unwanted advances on all the waitresses.
What’s his name again? Ricardo Vidale.
Tessa kept wandering through the crowd, and slowly it occurred to her that a lot of people were wearing tank tops like the ones Mr. Sanford always wore when he was alive. Purple, aqua, white, and orange ones that all said MRC on them. Mist River Casino.
It was all starting to make sense. Too much sense. Sanborn must’ve frequented the casino.
“Miss Randolph?”
The barked words made Tessa jump. She whirled around. It was Maddox and Horner.
“Um. Yes?”
How had they spotted her? Her eyes floated up to a security camera mounted near the ceiling. Ugh!
“Come with us, ma’am,” Horner said. “Our boss would very much like to have a word.”
The goon’s thick hand closed around her elbow, giving Tessa no choice but to go with him. She saw Ricardo glance her direction as they passed the blackjack table. Recognition flitted across his features.
They headed for a door at the back of the small room.
For half a second, Tessa wished she was back at the restaurant dealing with misogynistic Ricardo. It had to be better than being escorted by two guys into the dark recesses of a casino where, as she understood it, she was about to be interrogated.
