Death Over Easy

by Tawdra Kandle

  I stood up and patted Mrs. Mac’s shoulder. “You go on home and get ready, and I’ll be right over to collect you. It won’t take a minute.”

  “You two aren’t just trying to get me out of the way so you can do the horizontal hoochie-coochie, are you? Because if that’s the case, I hope it’ll take more than a minute.”

  I was positive my cheeks had gone bright red, which was ridiculous, because of course Mrs. Mac knew that Lucas and I slept together. Hell, our other neighbor down the block had caught us in the act—or just about—one night when we’d gotten frisky in the car, parked in Lucas’s driveway. Still, it wasn’t anything I wanted to discuss. I wasn’t a prude, but neither was I interested in sharing all the down and dirty details.

  “I promise you, that’s not what we’re going to do. Lucas just has a work question, right?”

  He nodded. I turned back to Mrs. Mac and patted her shoulder. “I’ll be right there.”

  “Hmph.” Pushing herself to her feet, the old woman shook her head. “Youth is wasted on the wrong people. If my equipment were in better order and I had an interested fellow, we’d be going at it like bunnies all the time.”

  “. . . and that’s what we call TMI, Mrs. Mac. Look, you’re making Lucas blush.” It was true, too. My boyfriend had a red face and a deer-in-the-headlights expression in his eyes. “I’ll be there in a minute.”

  Mrs. Mac mumbled indignantly under her breath, but she did move, stomping her way across my kitchen floor, out the back door and down the stairs. I waited, watching through the window until I saw her nearing her own house before I heaved out a breath and turned to Lucas.

  “What’s wrong?”

  He frowned. “Why do you think something’s wrong?”

  “Oh, I don’t know.” I tossed my hands into the air. “Let’s see. We’re dealing with a rampant evil force that wants to take over the world, and we’re supposed to be figuring out what it is and how to stop it. Oh, and then there’s Veronica, the crazy vampire lady who’s been skulking around recently, just waiting for her chance.”

  “Her chance to do what, exactly? She already vamped me. Actually, I wish she’d come by for a visit, just so I can ask her what the hell she was thinking.” Lucas ran his fingers through his hair, a sure sign that he was stressing. “I think about her a lot. I only want to know why she turned me that night.”

  I bit my lip and reined in my annoyance. “Let’s not invite Veronica the vampire over just now, okay? The last thing I need to do is try to explain her to Mrs. Mac.”

  “It’s not like I could find her anyway.” He shook his head. “She’s not who I need to talk to you about. This doesn’t have anything to do with—” He glanced to the window, as though there might be listening ears, and lowered his voice. “Carruthers stuff. It’s something else. Something that happened at the death I was summoned to this morning.”

  “All right.” Color me confused and wary. The only times Lucas shared details about his death brokering was when it concerned someone we knew. Since we lived in a senior citizen community in Florida, it wasn’t a stretch to expect that many of my friends would be moving on to the happy hunting grounds sooner rather than later, but still . . .

  “I see that face.” Lucas took a step toward me and pulled me close. “Don’t worry, the departed wasn’t anyone either of us knows. Or knew. He was an old guy from Citrus Point, and he died of a massive heart attack—nothing unusual or suspicious about it.”

  “You’re sure?” I burrowed my face in the crook of his neck. “Positive?”

  “Absolutely. He had a history of heart disease. And he’d just finished a plate of cheese fries. I’m telling you, this dude went out happy.”

  “Cheese fries? I thought he died this morning.”

  “He did. But apparently that was his breakfast of choice.” Lucas shrugged.

  I crinkled my brow. “He told you this?” Usually, his conversation with the dead was limited or non-existent. I’d never heard of him shooting the breeze with the souls about to shuffle off.

  “No . . . but that’s kind of what I need to talk to you about.” He drew back from me a little, running the tip of his tongue over his lips as he squinted out the window, carefully not looking at me. “The guy who died—his name was Reg—he had someone with him. His niece, Charlie. And she didn’t have anywhere else to go, and she seemed so lost . . .” A tiny bit of guilt infused his eyes, something akin to how I’d seen my nephews look when they were admitting to something they’d hoped to avoid. “I brought her home with me.”

  “Uh huh.” I nodded slowly. This wasn’t the first time Lucas had carried home his work, both literally and figuratively. We’d met our friend Crissy Darwin, the up-and-coming folk singer, when her manager had been murdered earlier this fall. I wasn’t surprised now, but I was a little mystified about why it seemed to be such a big deal. “Was she actually there when he died? Just how did you explain being at the bar when it happened?” The death broker gig apparently came with an unlimited get-out-of-jail-free card that meant Lucas was never considered a suspect in any kind of death, and no one seemed to question how often he turned up when someone had just died. Usually he avoided being seen by the family or anyone else, but sometimes, it was inevitable.

  He grimaced. “It was one of those weird coincidences. She was with her uncle when he went down, and she screamed. I was already in the room, but she hadn’t seen me, so I just said I’d been passing by when I heard her. I told her I’d do CPR and sent her to call the ambulance, but he was gone before he’d hit the floor. The advocates and I did our thing fast, and then I stayed around until the paramedics called it and the funeral home people came. But I couldn’t bring myself to leave her alone there. Of course, we had to taxi home because I couldn’t just transport back with her along for the ride.” Something else passed through his eyes, but I couldn’t tell exactly what it was.

  “So where is she now?”

  “At my house. For the time being.” He rubbed his hands over my upper arms. “But I was hoping maybe she could come stay with you for a little while.”

  I wrinkled my nose. “Me? Why me?”

  Lucas smiled. “A couple of a reasons. First, she doesn’t have any place else to go right now. She lived with her uncle above the bar that he owned, and I didn’t think she should be alone there, when he just dropped dead on the first floor. Second, she graduated from culinary school a few weeks back, so you’d have something in common. Third, and probably most important, she’s a twenty-one-year old girl, and I don’t think anyone would be comfortable with her staying at my house.”

  “Twenty-one?” I’d been picturing a smart-ass, gum-popping kid, not a young woman. “Uh, yeah, I wouldn’t be happy with you boarding her at your house.”

  “She’s not a dog, Jackie.” Lucas rolled his eyes. “No one is boarding her with me. But she’s young and alone, and I thought maybe you could even use her at the diner. Or you might consider whether she could help with your new business. Another set of hands doing food prep wouldn’t be a bad idea, especially considering you might be otherwise occupied. You know, with saving the world and all that.”

  I swallowed back a groan of exasperation. It was just like Lucas to turn that back around on me, and dammit, he had a point. He’d encouraged me when I’d come up with the idea of using the diner as a springboard for something I’d wanted to try—that was the catering—even though I knew we were both wondering if the world was going to be in any shape to need food preparation. If Mallory Jones and the Hive had their way . . . well, we didn’t know precisely what their plans entailed, but it wasn’t going to be pretty, and I doubted they were going to hire me to cater it.

  “I guess she could stay here for a little bit. I have the extra room.” My guest room was hardly ever occupied, unless my parents or one of my siblings visited. Distractedly, I wondered if I’d changed the sheets after the last time my friend Leesa had been down to stay with us.

  “Awesome. Anyone ever tell you you’re
the best girlfriend ever?” Lucas tugged me a little closer.

  “Sucking up will get you nowhere.” I tried to sound stern, but my voice quivered a little. It didn’t matter what I said; when it came to Lucas, my willpower was practically non-existent.

  “Oh, really? I seem to remember that sucking got me plenty far this morning.” He dipped his head, brushing his lips down to skim over the spot where my neck met my shoulder. “As a matter of fact, if I recall, you were basically promising me anything I might want. In a very loud voice.”

  “Stop.” I pushed at him, but it was a half-hearted attempt, and he could tell. He wrapped his arms tighter around me, leaving no doubt about where his mind and attention were. “Don’t start anything you can’t finish, mister.”

  “Who says I can’t finish?” His eyes narrowed as he gazed down at me, and I realized I’d just issued the type of challenge that no man ever turned down.

  “I meant that you have a girl waiting over at your house, right? So now might not be the optimal time for us to, uh, start anything. Also, let’s remember that Mrs. Mac expects me to drive her to the diner. I wouldn’t put it past her to barge in.”

  Lucas groaned. “You’re not wrong, but God, I wish you were. Okay. I’ll run next door and bring Charlie over. You can get to know her, she can settle in, and then . . .” He touched his lips to my forehead. “Later. You and me. And I’ll remind you just how well I can finish anything I start.”

  Without waiting for me to respond, he stalked across the kitchen and out the door. I sank into a chair, sighing and wondering what I’d just agreed to do.

  It didn’t seem that long ago that I’d been enjoying a quiet, boring life as a cookbook reviewer for an online food magazine. I’d lived here in the house I’d inherited from Nana after she’d passed; I’d had a few senior citizen buddies locally, my best friend Leesa back in the Big Apple to talk to long-distance, and my parents and brothers in upper New York state. My life had been predictable but more than a little flat and empty.

  All that had changed when Lucas had moved in next door. Suddenly, I had a boyfriend, and more than that, I had a boyfriend who’d recently undergone a dramatic life-changing experience which had resulted in him now being both a death broker and a vampire. Or a half vampire, at least. Falling in love with him had led to our involvement in situations I’d never dreamed existed . . . including the horrible experience of having my body possessed by the soul of a woman who was part of the evil force trying to destroy the world. That had been a definite low point in the last few years.

  But on the other hand, there weren’t many ho-hum days anymore, not when I was in love with a guy who announced the fate of departed souls and also consumed blood by the bagful . . . or from me, when we were in the height of passion. I’d found the man of my dreams, and I was finally beginning to do the work I’d always imagined: running a diner, launching a catering business and writing cookbooks on the side. The fulfillment was sweet, and I wasn’t going to complain about the regular sex, either.

  Movement outside the house across the lawn caught my eye, and I watched as Lucas followed the girl toward my home. I would’ve pegged her as being younger than twenty-one; she was petite, with jet-black hair that was cropped short. Her jeans were loose and rolled at the ankle, and a huge black T-shirt fell to mid-thigh. She looked as though she’d been playing dress-up in her big sister’s closet. She had a large army green duffel slung over her shoulder.

  Sitting back in my chair, I waited for Lucas to open the door and lead her inside. He shot me a glance that was half-pleading and half-warning, and I smothered the urge to stick out my tongue at him. He acted as if I might actually be tough on this poor kid who’d just lost her only living relative. What did that say about his opinion of me?

  He came to stand next to me as I rose to my feet. The girl stopped a few feet away, arms crossed over her chest and her mouth tight. The bag on her shoulder must’ve been heavy, but she didn’t slouch or drop it. I caught the glint of a tiny eyebrow ring, nearly camouflaged by her blonde brows—clearly the black hair was dye job. She didn’t look up at me; instead her eyes were steady on the floor just beyond my feet.

  “Jackie, this is Charlie Caldwell. Charlie, my girlfriend, Jackie O’Brien. She has a room here, and you can stay as long as you need.”

  I stood up and held out a hand. “I’m glad to meet you, Charlie, although not under the circumstances. I’m sorry about your uncle.”

  “He wasn’t really my uncle.” There was no mistaking the hostility in her voice or the way she ignored by outstretched hand. “I called him that, but he was really my aunt’s boyfriend.”

  “Oh.” I sought Lucas’ eyes, but he seemed as clueless as me. “Well . . . where’s your aunt?”

  “She died three years back.”

  “I’m sorry.” I repeated the words. “Your parents . . .?”

  Charlie shrugged. “No clue. They took off, I guess, when I was a baby, and left me with Aunt Val. It was just the two of us for a while, and then she started hooking up with Reg when I was about ten. We moved in with him over the bar, and when she died, I stayed with him. Didn’t have any place else to go.”

  If any other young girl had told me that story, I would’ve wrapped her in a hug filled with sympathy. But Charlie emitted a clear keep-away vibe, and I respected that. She didn’t want me to feel sorry for her, and so I wouldn’t.

  “Well, like Lucas said, you’re welcome to stay here as long as you need.” I tried to sound as though I meant the words. “It’s not fancy around here, but you’ll have your own bedroom, a bathroom and full use of the kitchen. Lucas tells me you just graduated from culinary school. Do you have a job yet?”

  She shook her head. “I only finished about two weeks ago. And the plan was that I would cook at Reg’s place for the time being, until I saved up enough to do my own thing.” The hard veneer cracked just a little, and I saw her lips twitch. “But I guess that’s not an option anymore.”

  “Can’t you take over his . . . did you say he owned a bar?” It seemed a little cold to be talking about the recently-deceased man’s possessions so cavalierly, but I could see Charlie was worried, despite her attitude.

  “I don’t know. Probably not. The Stinker has a mortgage, I’m pretty sure, and even if he left it to me free and clear, I’d have no fucking clue about how to run a business. I’m a chef, not a manager, you know?”

  I nodded. “Yeah, I get that. The Stinker? That’s the name of the bar?”

  For the first time since she’d come into my house, her face relaxed slightly, and I thought absently that when she dropped her defenses, Charlie was actually pretty.

  “The Hook, Line and Stinker. Uncle Reg’s dad named it that, but everyone called it just the Stinker.” She darted a glance at me. “I don’t need anyone to take care of me. I’m not a kid or a charity case.” She hunched her shoulders.

  “No one thinks that.” I spoke crisply, realizing that straight talk was what she wanted. “Lucas and I don’t feel sorry for you. But you lost your—your Reg just hours ago. No one would think any less of you for grieving, Charlie. And we’re just trying to give you a place to land until you see what comes next.”

  She nodded slowly. “Okay. I guess that’s all right. But he—” Charlie pointed at Lucas. “He said you could maybe use some help, too. So put me to work. I don’t expect a free ride.” The jut of her lip said she wouldn’t take anything she hadn’t earned, either. That won her some grudging respect from me, even if that was going to make it harder to give her a hand.

  “Of course. I own a diner—well, sort of—and I’m just starting to get a catering company off the ground. So an extra set of hands would be a godsend. Especially a set of hands that have been professionally trained.”

  “Cool.” She didn’t move, and I had a hunch that she wouldn’t until I did.

  “Let me show you the room, and maybe you want to rest a little. I’m going to run over to the diner in a few minutes, but Lucas will be r
ight next door.” I slid my eyes toward him and added, “Unless he gets called out for work, that is. But if you need anything, I’ll leave you my cell phone number.”

  “I thought you said you were a writer?” Charlie frowned at Lucas suspiciously. Yeah, this kid didn’t trust easily, that was for sure.

  “I am.” He spread his hands. “But I haven’t published a book yet, so I have this kind of, um, side gig. Sometimes I have to leave on short notice.”

  “Right down this hall.” I guided Charlie out of the kitchen before she could ask Lucas any more questions he’d have to struggle to answer.

  Lucas squeezed my shoulder as I moved behind the girl. “I owe you big time,” he whispered.

  I smirked and slid away from him. “Don’t think I’ll forget it.”

  “ARE THESE YOUR only knives?” Charlie frowned down at the blade in front of her as though I’d handed her plastic silverware.

  “Well . . . yeah. Here, anyway. They have others at the diner, but I don’t do any serious cooking here. All of the catering work is going to be done in the diner kitchen.” I’d skirted a bunch of health and safety inspections by making Jackie O’Brien Catering an offshoot of Leone’s, giving me a place to cook that was already approved by all the powers that be.

  “Okay, but how in the hell do you do any cooking at all with . . . these?” Charlie waved her hand over the worn knife block on my counter. “They’re dull, and what’s more, they’re kind of cheap.”

  “They belonged to my grandmother. They have sentimental value. I sharpen them as much as I can, and . . . they’re fine.” I tried not to huff. “If they’re not good enough for you, you’re welcome to bring over your own set.”

  Her eyebrows drew together, and she turned her back to me. I could’ve bitten off my tongue: all of her stuff was still at the bar, where her uncle—or whoever he was to her; she hadn’t said much about him since she’d arrived two days before—had dropped dead in front of her. Yes, she was on the verge of annoying the living crap out of me, but still, I was being insensitive.