Don of the Dead

by Casey Daniels

  His face was twisted with anger. His cheeks were dusky. "There are two of them," he said. "And one of them is Albert."

  Didn't it figure?

  I fought to catch my breath and wished that when I got into my car back at Sully's Flowers, I hadn't slipped my cell phone out of my pocket and left it next to me on the front seat. I pressed a hand to my heart and felt it beating with the rhythm of a high school marching band drum line.

  "Can you see them?" I asked Gus.

  "That Albert, he's graceful like a moving van. He's tromping through the shrubbery over there. He's carrying a .357 and I'd bet a dime to a donut he couldn't hit the side of a barn with it. Not from this distance. He's muscle, not a shooter. No, it's the other one you need to worry about. Light-haired guy wearing sunglasses."

  It didn't sound like anyone I'd run into in the course of my investigation, but just the fact that Albert was involved told me one thing. "Rudy's got to be behind this."

  "No way." Gus shook his head. "Not his style."

  "What? Killing isn't part of the family business anymore?"

  I could tell Gus was itching to aim a sneer in my direction. Instead, he kept his eye on Albert and his friend. "We wouldn't kill women."

  "Ella will be thrilled to know that her sixties-sisterhood-equal-rights bullshit worked."

  "You call this progress?" Gus ducked behind the monument with me. "Look, kid, this next bit is going to be a little tricky. You've got maybe thirty feet. Across to the road, then over to the next section. There's a couple statues over there. Angels, I think."

  I thought so, too. They were part of my angel tour.

  "Once you're there, you're home free. There are a few mausoleums. A couple big monuments. How close are we to the office?"

  Not close enough.

  I refused to think about it.

  "There might still be somebody over in the chapel," I said instead, because even though I knew it was unlikely that one of our minimum-wage part-time employees would stay around that late, it seemed like a better plan than thinking about how I was surrounded by three hundred acres of nothing but dead people. "If it's still open, I can get inside and lock the door behind me."

  "Good." Gus stepped back, but just as I was about to sidestep my way around him, he hesitated. "Look… " He straightened his tie. "I want you to know that I'd run interference for you if—"

  "Yeah. I know. Thanks," I said, and bolted for the nearest angel.

  Just as I got there, a bullet smacked into her wing and flakes of marble rained down on my head. I darted behind her but even then, I didn't stop. I ran to the next angel and from there, I ducked behind a tall, oval monument with a carving of a man's face at the center of it. By the time I made it from there to the statue of a woman seated with a book open on her lap, I was feeling invincible. A few more headstones, a couple hundred more feet, and I was home free.

  Maybe.

  I put my head down and ran. Hell bent for leather as they say in those historical romances my mother loved to read and I loved to mock. I didn't know what it meant but at that moment, I sure understood how it felt. Like my lungs were on fire. Like my heart was going to burst. The calf muscles in my right leg cramped and I staggered but I didn't stop. Not even when a shot rang out when I was near the monument to folks called Willis and another plunked into the turf at my feet as I was rounding one side of a pink granite mausoleum and heading to the other side.

  Now, the chapel was directly in front of me and I refused to think about anything but making it that far. I raced there and plastered myself behind one of the massive granite columns that flanked the brass front doors.

  I was right about the part-timer assigned to the building. He was long gone and the doors were locked. But the building was big and it was surrounded with unusual plants that tourists came from miles around to see. There were plenty of places to hide. There was also a back door that few people knew about. It led directly to a stairway and from there, into the receiving vault, the place they used to store the bodies when the ground was too frozen to dig graves. Always the planner, Ella left an extra key under the mat in front of that door. Just in case anybody ever got locked out. If I could get my hands on that key…

  It wasn't much in the hope department but it was all I had, and I hung onto it for dear life.

  Literally.

  My back against the chapel wall, my eyes scanning the area in front of me for any sign of movement, I slunk around to the other side of the building. I actually might have made it if I hadn't slid around a corner and run right into Albert.

  "Hey, bitch, thanks for the exercise." Albert was breathing hard. So was I. He grinned at me over the barrel of a big, nasty-looking gun. "Worked just like we planned it."

  "We—?" There was no sign of the other shooter. That didn't make the grim reality any less grim or less real. Albert and the other guy, they knew I'd run. They knew which direction I'd go. They knew I had no choice but to head for the chapel, and they'd herded me there where my body could be tucked under a bush or behind a bench or rolled down the hill behind us and right into the pond where nobody would find it until the gasses built inside me and I bloated like a blowfish and floated to the surface.

  And I fell for it.

  I didn't have the time to second-guess my strategy. It was too late for that. It was too late to be mad at myself, too. "This is nuts." Like I had to tell Albert? He knew it. That's why a slow smile brightened his plug-ugly face.

  "No cops here this time." He poked his gun toward his right and I knew that he wanted me to step that way. To my left. Toward the hill. Yep, I was headed into the pond.

  I held back. "How do you know? How do you know I didn't dial 911?"

  "Nice try." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a phone. When he held it up for me to see, I recognized it as mine. "Bet this is the last time you'll leave your phone in the car." Albert laughed. It wasn't a pretty sound. "On second thought, I don't need to bet. This is your last time. For everything." Again, he waved me toward my left. Like he was positioning me in just the right spot.

  I didn't have to think for what. I didn't move. If he wanted the shooter to get a nice, clean shot, he was going to have to pick me up and put me in place.

  "The least you can do is tell me what this is all about." Sure, I was stalling. But I was also curious. If I was going to die, it seemed a shame to die without the answers I was looking for. "Who put you up to this?"

  "What makes you think anyone did?"

  "Come on, Albert. You're not smart enough to do anything on your own. Somebody's giving the orders. Somebody wants me out of the way. Why? What does all this have to do with Tommy Two Toes?"

  He didn't answer. But he did look over my shoulder and raise one hand. Like he was giving a signal.

  I knew it was coming but, I swear, I didn't have time to react. I heard the clear crack of a rifle shot and all I could do was brace myself for the impact.

  After that…

  Well, after that, everything that happened happened so fast, I wasn't sure if it was real or if I was already dead and inhabiting some sort of parallel universe designed to tease me with the possibility of all that might have been.

  Gus stepped up behind Albert and tapped him on his shoulder and Albert turned, startled. He made a gurgling, choking sound and when he turned back to me, all it took was one look at his face for me to realize the impossible.

  Albert saw Gus.

  Albert's face was white. His mouth was open. He made a croaking sound from deep in his throat.

  And then he did what anybody would have done when faced with a man who was dead and buried.

  Albert turned and ran.

  The wrong way.

  I heard a dull plunk and a spray of liquid jetted out of Albert's chest. Against the evening sky, the color reminded me of wine. Something hot and sticky splattered against my cheeks and my shirt. Albert crumpled at my feet.

  Gus urged me to run. "Come on!" He started toward the other side of the ch
apel.

  "But Gus… " I was frozen in place, staring at Albert's body and the spots of red like polka dots on my shirt. "How… ?"

  Gus waved me around the back of the chapel. "Don't worry about that now. He's not going to wait before he tries again. Come on!"

  He was right and I knew it. But I wasn't about to let him waffle when it came to an explanation. As soon as we were safely on the other side of the chapel, I started in on him.

  "He saw you, Gus. Albert saw you. How—"

  "Don't you get it?" Gus peeked around the corner of the chapel. Apparently, the coast was clear. At least for a moment. "The way I understand it, this is how it works. At least for everyone except you. If a person is close to death, he can see the other side. You know, ghosts and things."

  "And that's why—"

  "I figured it was worth a try. Worked pretty good, didn't it?"

  It had. But it wasn't the end of our problems. Albert might be dead but there was another hit man out there somewhere.

  I didn't have to wait long to find out where. Gus didn't hear him coming and I didn't, either. But the next thing I knew, the light-haired man rounded the corner. He didn't come close. He didn't have to. He was carrying a high-powered rifle and, cool and steady, he lifted it to his shoulder and took aim.

  I didn't wait around to see any more. I dropped and rolled, allowing the momentum and the weight of my body to take me down the hill toward the pond. My shoulder smacked into a tree root and my flesh ripped. My hair snagged on twigs and branches and got yanked by the roots. My legs tangled, my knees hit the rough edges of stones, my teeth knocked together.

  I kept rolling, and landed in the muck right where the pond water lapped against the shore.

  Just in time to see the hit man spin to get a bead on me.

  As he did, something came flying at him from the other side of the chapel.

  At least I think that's what I saw.

  I scooped the hair out of my eyes and shook my head, sure that my brain was playing cruel tricks on me.

  The something was a person. A man, I thought, but it was kind of hard to tell. That's how fast he moved.

  It was like a scene straight out of a Jet Li movie. The mystery man knocked the rifle off the hit man's shoulder. At the same time, he did a roundhouse kick and caught the hit man square in the chest. Mr. Light-Hair-and-Sunglasses staggered but didn't fall. He took a poke at Mr. Mystery, who ducked under his fist, got in a right hook that snapped the hit man's head back and knocked off his sunglasses. He finished the slick moves with an expertly delivered karate chop.

  Even from where I lay in the mud, I saw the whites of the hit man's eyes when they rolled back in his head. Right before he passed out.

  By now, I was sitting up, my breath tight and painful, my astonishment, I thought, complete.

  Except that astonishment turned to amazement and amazement morphed straight to flabbergasted when the mystery man skittered down the hillside and hurried over to me.

  It was Dan.

  He knelt down in the mud and reached for my arm, searching for a pulse. His hold was firm. His voice was even. "Are you okay?"

  Was I?

  I guess the fact that I started to laugh proved I was. Or maybe it just proved that I had finally gone over the edge where I'd been dangling since the day I met Gus. I couldn't stop.

  "It's all right." Dan rubbed my back. Just like Quinn had done that day back at my apartment when I ran into the Albeit welcoming committee. "You're just a little shocky, that's all. You'll be fine."

  I swiped my hands over my cheeks. When I was done, they were wetter and stickier than ever. Mud. Blood. Tears. It was an ugly mix and I didn't even care. I latched on to Dan, sure that when I made the move, he'd disappear in a poof that proved this was all just a figment of my warped imagination.

  "What are you doing here?" I asked him. I looked over to where the hit man lay beaten and battered. "How—"

  "I came to see you. At your office. You weren't there but then I heard the shot. There's no mistaking the sound of an AK-47. I knew somebody was in trouble, I just didn't know it was you."

  From a distance, I heard the wail of police sirens. "I called." Dan said it almost apologetically. "I didn't have much of a choice. I knew you'd need some help and I can't… " He hopped to his feet. "I can't stick around. You wait here. They'll find you. They'll take care of everything."

  "But Dan… " If I'd thought about it, I would have convinced myself that my legs wouldn't support me. I didn't care. I had to get to Dan before he got away. I struggled to my feet, grabbed his arm, and refused to let go. "You're the Brain Man. How could you… How would you know… How did you do that?"

  The light was failing but still, I caught the flash of Dan's grin. "There's a lot you don't know about me," he said. Right before he kissed me quick and disappeared into the evening shadows.

  Chapter 17

  "Imagine you getting caught in the crossfire between two hoodlums!" Ella's voice wavered between out-and-out terror and motherly concern. "Thank goodness the police showed up before anything really serious happened to you. You're so lucky!"

  Lucky?

  Yeah, I guess I was.

  Maybe I was in shock, too. That would explain why I felt like I was floating, like I was watching a scene happening to someone else.

  Ella was on call that week for cemetery emergencies and she was already home when she heard from the Garden View security service that something was up and she had to get back as soon as possible. She was dressed in blue jeans, sneakers, and a tie-dyed shirt. It was red and green and blue, and the colors swam in front of my eyes, twirling and swirling into a blur.

  When she held out a different shirt to me, I accepted it automatically. We were in my office and for the time being—at least until the cops who were milling around outside and trampling the plants near the chapel showed up to have at me again with a barrage of questions like the ones they'd asked me when they arrived—there was no one else around. I stripped off my shirt and slipped into the T-shirt. It said MONTICELLO JUNIOR HIGH SPRING FIELD DAY on it in big green letters and it was too tight in the chest and too big at the hips.

  Still, it sure beat my own shirt. Or at least what was left of it. I hadn't even realized how bad I must have looked until I dropped the shirt on the floor and I saw that it was torn at the neck, muddy in the back, and stained just about everywhere with dark red dots.

  Blood.

  Albert's blood.

  My stomach flipped. My head spun.

  "Sit down. Quick." Ella rolled my desk chair up behind me and as soon as it hit the backs of my legs, I collapsed into it.

  "Put your head between your knees if you have to." She pushed down on the back of my neck and have to or not, my head went down.

  "Breathe deep."

  I tried. Not easy considering that I was twisted like a pretzel.

  "Relax, and let all that tension melt away. Let it out. Let it go. Be one with a peaceful universe. There you go. Better?"

  I fought against the pressure of Ella's hand to sit upright, and when I was finally able to, I gulped in a breath. "Better. Yes. Really." I was better once I could breathe. "I just—" My shirt was still on the floor and I chanced another glance at it. My stomach wobbled. My ears buzzed. "I guess I'm just a little overwhelmed."

  "I'll bet." Ella dug through the trash can next to my desk. She found the plastic grocery bag I'd used that morning to carry my breakfast to the office and she dug out the empty raspberry yogurt carton and the lifted-from-McDonald's plastic spoon. Gingerly, she picked up my shirt and dropped it inside the bag.

  "Evidence," she said. "At least that's what I think the cops will say. They'll probably want to take your shirt to the lab and test it or something. You know, like they do on CSI. But that doesn't mean you have to wear it and it doesn't mean you have to look at it. Sorry about the T-shirt." She looked me over and frowned. "One of the girls left it here the last time they stopped after school to see me. It was the only
thing I could find for you to wear."

  Ella tossed the plastic bag—and the shirt inside—over near the door. She brushed her hands together, dragged my guest chair from the other side of the desk, and sat down, knees-to-knees with me. "You want to talk about it?" she asked.

  I didn't. But I knew Ella wouldn't settle for that. Besides, I owed her. For the T-shirt and because she was genuinely worried about me. "Not much to say. It was late and I came in through the side gate. I stopped for a minute at Tommy's—" This wasn't the time to explain that part of the equation.

  I didn't know where to start and besides, if I told the truth, Ella would think I was delirious and take me to the ER like she'd already threatened to do.

  "I stopped for a minute," I said, picking up the narrative as seamlessly as I could. "That's when the shooting started. I didn't know what was happening." Not entirely a lie. "So I ran."

  "Good thing you did. The police lieutenant I talked to said that man, the one who got killed… he said that man had ties to organized crime. Imagine!"

  I could.

  "And the other guy?" I'd been eager to find out what happened to the light-haired man in the sunglasses ever since the cops showed up and brought me over to my office. In true cop form, they weren't talking. This was the first I had a chance to ask. Or at least the first I had a chance to ask someone who might actually answer my questions.

  Ella patted my hand. "Don't think about it. It's over. You're right, according to the police, that horrible man was going to shoot you. I'll bet he knew that you saw him kill that other man and he wanted to silence you. Good thing he tripped and fell. He was out cold when the cops found him. They have him in custody and he's not going anywhere. And just in case you're thinking about it, you're not, either. You're coming home with me tonight. No arguments! Even as we speak, the girls are cleaning their room for you to use. Believe me, that in itself is a major accomplishment, and after I talked them into it, there's no way you can say no."

  "I appreciate it. Really. But I've got things to do and—"