The scraping of chairs on the floors signalled that people were doing what she asked. She came back outside and took my hand. “Let’s get you to your parole officer. He’ll be able to sort this out.”
Eleanor tunnelled us to the police station. Still holding my hand, she marched out of the tunnelling room and straight to the reception desk.
The policeman at the desk looked up when he saw us approach. “Back again?”
“I demand that you get Parole Officer Salier out here, right this instant.” Eleanor’s Southern belle accent deepened her voice and made the authoritative tone much sharper.
The constable checked something in front of him. “I’m afraid I can’t do that, ma’am, he’s in an interrogation.”
“Well, you better find a way to do it. And quick.” Eleanor tapped the top of the reception desk to punctuate her demand.
“Ma’am, I can’t—”
“Stop telling me what you can’t do, young man, and find me a solution. I have another of his wards out here and we both know that you cannot prohibit access of a ward to their parole officer under any circumstances. So, I suggest you get him out here now and I’ll only file a regular grievance rather than a compounded one in which I cite that said ward came in and asked to speak to her parole officer twice and was turned away both times. Do you want me to do that, Constable?”
The constable glowered over Eleanor’s shoulder at me and pushed to his feet. “I’ll go and try to get hold of him.”
“Don’t try, Constable, do it.” Eleanor squared her shoulders. “Or the consequences will be so much worse than a compound grievance.”
The constable stalked sullenly off in the direction of the interrogation rooms. Eleanor turned to find me staring at her. I wasn’t sure whether to be awed or terrified.
“That was amazing.”
“You simply need to explain the situation and people will be happy to help.” Eleanor gave me a demure smile.
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
“Bridget? Is everything okay?” Oz called as he jogged over to us a couple of minutes later, panic radiating off him. He came to a halt in front of me and grabbed me by my upper arms to keep me still while he checked me over, not even waiting to hear my response. I noticed he never seemed to do that to anyone else. But then again, none of his other wards continually had someone trying to murder them.
“I’m fine. I needed to talk to you, the whistle wasn’t working and the constable wouldn’t get you when I asked, so Eleanor brought me here.”
“Thank you, Eleanor, I’m incredibly grateful that you’re looking out for Bridget.”
“It’s my pleasure.” Eleanor blushed slightly at the level of gratitude in Oz’s voice. “Bridget has made such progress in the past few weeks. She is such a compassionate girl. I’m proud to say I know her. I like to think she’s one of my successes. I won’t mark her as absent.” Eleanor turned to me. “You get this murder business sorted out. The group will be excited to hear about it tomorrow night. From you and Sabrina.”
“Thank you, Eleanor.” I reached out and gave her a hug before she left.
Oz placed his hand on my lower back and guided me to the far corner of the reception. “What’s going on?”
“Are you here with Katie?” I asked.
Oz shook his head. “Bridget—”
“This isn’t about the fact she was questioned about the murders and you didn’t tell me or us,” I said.
“Then what’s this about?”
“It’s about the GBs arresting my friends and backing me into a corner where I have to solve the medium murders to set them free.”
Everything about Oz’s posture became rigid. “What do you mean? Who did they arrest? Why would you have to solve it?”
“Alexander and Sean. Alexander is—”
“I know who they are. When will you learn that there’s nothing that you do, no friends you have, that I don’t know about?”
“Well, that’s incredibly creepy.”
“And you’re incredibly hard work,” he countered.
“They arrested Sabrina too. And Officer Leonard made a comment about how I was all on my own. And since you were cooped up with Katie all afternoon and Sabrina had been arrested it felt true.” I waited for Oz to reassure me that there was nothing to worry about. That I was overreacting. He didn’t, so I carried on. “So, instead of going off and trying to deal with this on my own I told Eleanor about it and she brought me here.”
“Okay,” Oz said and threw a glance at the constable at the desk. “We’ll call their bluff. We won’t do anything and wait until they’re released.”
“Officer Leonard said they were going to be prosecuted tonight.”
“Bridget, not even the GBs can prosecute people without evidence. They can hold them indefinitely but not prosecute them.”
“Well, that’s what he said.”
“He can’t, so how about we wait and see?”
I took a step back. “This is your solution? Wait and see?”
“The only other option is that you get yourself into trouble and now you’ve come to me I can’t—I won’t—let you do that. Even if I have to lock you in the house.”
“You won’t let me?”
“No, I won’t. As your parole officer, your welfare is my first concern.”
“Are they going to pin these murders on Katie?”
“I don’t know what they’re doing. They keep asking the same questions.” Oz glanced back in the direction he’d come from. He paused. “All afternoon. Almost like they’re killing time.”
“Okay, well, I don’t really care about that but I do care about my friends. I’m not willing to wait and call their bluff.” I lowered my voice when I noticed the constable was eavesdropping on our conversation. “What if they’re not bluffing? I have no clue what ghost prison looks like but I am sure Alexander won’t survive it. I don’t think Sean would either.”
Oz sighed heavily as he stared at me and then moved to the desk. “Hey, I need to take my ward home but I need another parole officer to sit in with my other ward. Can you contact Shirley Penthalagen for me?”
“Unfortunately, Officer Salier, Officer Penthalagen would be unable to help. Can I call someone else for you?”
“Yes, can you contact either Pat Keele or Simon Paulson for me then please?”
The constable’s frown deepened. “I believe they’re both engaged.”
“Then the interrogation will have to remain paused until I return.” Oz turned away from the desk and motioned to me. He was wearing an expression that brooked no argument. I followed him back to the tunnelling room. We appeared in the garden of our house. “Both Alexander and Sean have their parole officers with them. As does Sabrina. They’re going to be fine. So, now, we need to worry about you.”
“You don’t know that there going to be fine. You’re assuming it.”
Oz shook his head. “You’re not listening to me. They have no evidence—”
“You mean like when they pinned those murders on Katie?”
“Are we going to go through this again?”
“Yes. We are.”
“Bridget, this isn’t the same thing.”
“This is exactly the same thing.”
“Bridget.” Oz said my name as though if he said it enough I would turn into the perfect ward. “Your options are to try and help and get yourself in trouble or to call their bluff.”
“Look. I abided by your rules. I came to you because I made you a promise. I wanted to keep it because I want to stay here. This is my home. I’ve made friends. But I won’t stand here and do nothing on the off chance the GBs are bluffing. I know they aren’t your wards but I’m your ward. You’re responsible for me and my happiness, right? And, if this is a toss-up between living here and letting my friends go to jail for something they didn’t do or being reassigned to a new parole officer and only having supervised visits with my housemates, then I’m going to choose the latter because it’s the ri
ght thing to do. You know it’s the right thing to do. And I don’t want to do it on my own but I will if I have to. So I’m asking for you to help me prove their innocence. I know what happened to Katie weighs on you. Do you want three other prison sentences weighing on you too?”
Oz threw up his hands, his voice was heavy in frustration. “Bridget, there’s no reason to believe that they’ll prosecute them.”
“And how are you going to feel if they do prosecute them? Because if I trust you now and you’re wrong I won’t forgive you.”
“I’m not wrong.”
I enunciated clearly to make sure Oz understood. “I will never forgive you.”
“Maybe not, but you’ll be safe.”
“You’re not going to help me?”
“No.”
I squared my shoulders. “Okay.”
“Okay what?” Oz asked.
“Okay I’ll come and get my stuff later.” I rolled my shoulders back and tried to focus on where I should tunnel to. I was still standing there a full minute later.
Oz frowned at me. “What are you doing?”
I shook my head. “I don’t know. I don’t know what to do.”
Oz stared at me for an excruciatingly long moment. Then he exhaled a heavy sigh and rubbed his face with one hand. “Okay. Let’s make a plan.”
Chapter Seventeen
“This is a terrible plan,” Oz mumbled.
“Is he always like this?” Charon asked, his attention roving over Oz.
“He’s not used to rule breaking,” I whispered to Charon.
“You shouldn’t be used to rule breaking,” Oz hissed behind me.
“He does not know you at all, does he, my little Bridget?” Charon asked, arching an eyebrow at Oz, and I was pretty sure there was a proprietary tone to Charon’s usual endearment.
“I know her just fine,” Oz countered. “I wasn’t saying that she wasn’t familiar with rule breaking, only that she shouldn’t be.”
Charon looked Oz over again but spoke to me. “I feel as though he’s blaming me.”
“Was that the door?” I whispered, trying to get them both to focus on the task in hand before they resorted to biting and hair pulling.
After a long back and forth with Oz, we’d decided plan A would be to check The Fates room for George’s and Madame Zorina’s files since it was an easy base to cover—in terms of action, not consequences—and plan B would be to wait the GBs out. I’d argued heavily that the GB bluff calling should be plan C but Oz made it plain that he’d only agree to the catastrophic rule breaking of plan A on the premise that everything else about this situation, post plan A, would be done his way. It wasn’t exactly democratic, but it was a step in the right direction so I took it.
“Did they both leave?” Charon asked me of the two people who’d been in the room when Charon had first tunnelled us in.
I put two fingers on each temple and closed my eyes. “Yes. The taller of the two, wearing odd socks and a gold watch, needed to get back because his wife was cooking macaroni and cheese and when he’s late she gives his portion to their Pomeranian called Buster.”
“My little Bridget, you are full of surprising talents,” Charon cooed as though he were impressed. It was really a pretty good comeback because it left me nowhere to go.
“Shut up. Go and check the files.” I waved him off along the aisle. It would be easier for him to check since he could pull himself onto the next plane of the afterlife, which meant no one on the ghost plane could see him.
Charon folded his arms and leaned back on the cabinets. “I’m just your lift. You go and check.”
“But my eyes will disintegrate,” I said.
Charon blinked slowly. “How?”
“From the—” I waved my hand at the cabinets in explanation. “But since you’re you I figured you’d be okay.”
“What’s she talking about?” Charon asked Oz.
“It’s a deterrent to prevent people from snooping through the files,” Oz explained.
Charon stared at me. “You believe that there is something in every drawer that would know if you looked in a file and disintegrate your eyeballs?” Charon looked me over as if he were re-evaluating my intelligence.
“Rationally, no. But rationally I also wouldn’t have believed someone if they told me that when I died I’d ride around on a tourist bus, have to live with other ghosts, have a job and a parole officer.”
Charon nodded at me. “Touché.”
“So is there something that is going to laser beam my eyeballs to dust?” I asked.
Charon shrugged. “Who knows?”
“Helpful. Thank you.” I nodded at him, took a step to go a-file hunting and then stopped.
“What now?” Charon asked.
“I’ve seen a flaw in my plan.”
“Really? Only one. And only now?” Oz mumbled.
“Is he always like this?” Charon repeated. “How do you ever have any fun?”
“Bridget, what’s the problem?” Oz asked, ignoring Charon.
I winced. “I don’t know Madame Zorina’s last name. Her maiden name. Or would her file be under her married name? Not that I know either.”
“I know her maiden name,” Oz said. “And her married name.”
“How do you know it?” I asked.
Oz shook his head. “How many times? Stay here while I check.”
“I can check. I know the filing system better,” I said.
Oz gave me a flat look. “Pretty sure I know how the alphabet works, Bridget. Stay here and keep out of trouble.”
“I don’t think he likes me,” Charon said, frowning at Oz’s back as he jogged silently along the back spine aisle. “He likes you, though.”
“Everybody likes me. I’m an incredibly likeable girl.”
Charon laughed, a light tinkling noise filled the air. Oz paused and turned back to look at us, holding his arms out to the sides as if asking us what we were doing before resuming his mission.
“He definitely doesn’t like me,” Charon said.
“I think it’s more that he doesn’t like that I know someone who can break into a restricted filing room and that they’d be willing to do it for me and that he has no control over you.”
“Are you going to stand around and let him have all the fun?” Charon asked. “Surely, there is someone’s file you want to check. Who knows when you’ll get a chance again?”
“Jeremy’s is gone. As are Magnificent Malcolm’s and Allseeing Eric’s.” I shrugged. “Oz is checking Madame Zorina’s and George’s files. There’s no one else.”
“Oh, no, I didn’t mean about the murders.” Charon waved me off as if they weren’t important. “Isn’t there anyone you want to snoop on?”
“No.”
“Not even your own file? Although that’s your life, so I suppose you know about that. Maybe your friends? The friend that lost my passenger, for example,” Charon asked.
“Why would I want to look in Sabrina’s file?” I asked.
He shrugged. “Why wouldn’t you?”
“My eyes won’t disintegrate?”
Charon shrugged. “As a good friend. Isn’t it worth taking the chance?”
“What does that mean?” I asked but Charon only shrugged again in response.
I backed away from him and scurried along the spine of the aisles. I peeked around the corner of the aisle Oz had gone down. He was bent over rooting through a drawer. Oz paused as if he felt my eyes on him and I ducked back behind the cabinet. I counted to ten and peeked around the corner again. He’d gone back to rooting around in the drawer. His eyes looked perfectly fine and undisintegrated. The eyeball disintegrator must be on a break.
I darted across the aisle to the next row of cabinets. Peeked around the corner. It was empty. I tiptoed across to the next one and had a moment to be thankful that I hadn’t worn my awesome but loud heels. I was about to sneak down the aisle and find Sabrina’s file when I felt someone behind me. I knew it was Oz. He sme
lled like soap powder and sunshine.
“What are you doing?” he whispered, his breath warm on the back of my neck. I hated it when he did stuff like that. It always made me think of rude things. Or not rude things, but inappropriate things. Or not really inappropriate but technically illegal things in terms of afterlife behaviour with your parole officer.
“I was—” I cut the lie off. He was already breaking into a restricted file room. There was really no point in lying now. “I was going to check Sabrina’s file.”
“Why?”
“Charon said something.”
Before he could question me further the door creaked as it opened. Oz grabbed my hand and tugged me back to where Charon was waiting.
“You ready?” Charon called loudly across the small distance as we approached.
“Are you talking to me?” a female voice called across the room.
“You’re a terrible burglar,” I hissed at a quietly laughing Charon.
“Hello?” the voice called again.
Charon placed a hand on my shoulder and his other on Oz’s. And before I even realised it we were back in our garden.
“Now, if neither of you mind, I’m going to get back to work,” Charon announced and abandoned us before I could even thank him.
“I don’t like him.” Oz scowled at the space where Charon had been standing. “I don’t think he’s a good influence on you.”
I shrugged. “He buys me ice cream.”
“He buys it?”
“Well, no, he steals it but we steal everything now so—” I cut myself off with a shrug. “What did you find out? Since we’re back, I’m assuming something helpful.”
“I’m not sure if it’s helpful. But it’s something.”
“What?”
“George’s file was gone but Madame Zorina’s was there. Janice was the one who attacked her. Apparently, your friend was milking Olive’s family for everything they had.”
I shook my head. “When was this? That’s not right.”
“Bridget—”
“That’s not who Madame Zorina is. She wouldn’t do that.”
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