Beyond Dead: A Bridget Sway Novel (A Paranormal Ghost Cozy Mystery Series)
Page 32
“Michael-the-cheating-scumbag.” I reached into my pockets and pulled out an array of cosmetics I’d “borrowed” from the nearest department store since Oz, my parole officer/guardian angel/pain-in-the-neck, was still dragging his feet on fulfilling my requests. I’d been dead two weeks and I still didn’t have any makeup except my Chanel bronzer.
Sabrina turned back to me in surprise. “Michael-the-cheating-scumbag? The cheating scumbag ex-fiancé? That Michael-the-cheating-scumbag?”
“Yep.” I laid the products out on my corpse’s stomach and motioned for Sabrina to move my dead body’s fringe out of the way so I could apply her makeup properly. “Hey, did I mention that he was a cheating scumbag?”
Sabrina pressed her lips together shook her head. “I don’t think so.” Her expression broke into a smile and she gave me a small shoulder nudge. “So how come you think Michael-the-cheating-scumbag will be the one to say the nicest things about you?”
“He’ll want everyone to think he’s such a grrrrrrreat guy.”
“Who’ll want everyone to think he’s a great guy? Tony the Tiger?” Edith asked as she peered over my shoulder and made me jump so badly I squirted moisturiser all over my dead body’s face. “And why are you applying moisturiser to your corpse, dear?”
“Old habits,” I said, frowning at the deluge of cream on my corpse’s face.
Edith was wearing her usual charcoal skirt suit. She’d been dead a long time so it always surprised me that she wore the same thing. Especially since she was an outlaw of sorts and as such wasn’t constrained by the same stupid afterlife personal request rules as Sabrina and I were. The rules, according to Oz, were that you could have whatever you needed as long as you requested it through your parole officer. I’d given him a long list of what I needed weeks ago and was yet to receive anything. Apparently, he felt underwear and mascara weren’t urgent necessities.
“You look terrible. Death does not suit you at all, dear,” Edith said with a grimace at my corpse’s face. She smoothed out the hem of my dress like Sabrina had and frowned. “Do your knees really look like that?”
“I’m trying to concentrate,” I said, wiping off the last of the moisturiser since it hadn’t sunk in properly.
“At least they didn’t touch your hair, dear,” Edith said. She lifted a strand of my corpse’s hair and let it drop the same way Sabrina had, then tugged at her own hacked-at fringe. Even though it was far too short, Edith still looked like a glamorous, dead version of Anjelica Huston.
“How come your fringe was affected when they prepped your body but Bridget’s weight wasn’t?” Sabrina said as she gestured to Edith’s hair then my corpse’s hollowed cheeks.
“That’s the afterlife for you, dear. No rhyme or reason to anything.” Edith frowned down at my corpse. “Just as well, really. Looking at her makes me hungry.”
“I don’t suppose either of you has a knife?” I asked. My Crème de la Mer foundation had gone on without a hitch and I was gently tugging on my dead body’s eyelashes to expose the stitches.
I looked up to find them both offering me a knife. Sabrina’s was a flick knife with a thin, three-inch blade and a unicorn handle. I refused to ask about the handle. Edith’s was more like a dagger. It had a dark brown leather-bound handle and a six-inch blade, slightly slimmer than Sabrina’s. I took Edith’s.
“You really should carry some form of self-defence weapon, dear,” Edith chastised.
In response I lifted the whistle Oz had given me to blow in emergencies so he would come a-running and save me. It had initially gone against my feminist instincts to call a man for help but then I’d found a couple of dead bodies, and a couple of other people had tried to kill me, so that had altered my view a little.
“No, a self-defence weapon, Bridge. Not a booty call device,” Sabrina said and Edith sniggered.
I gave them both a flat stare. Oz was, shall we say, adequately attractive. “Nooooo, those jokes aren’t getting old at all. And I get accused of enough murders as it is. Imagine Johnson’s delight if I happen to be carrying an offensive weapon the next time a dead body falls out of my locker. He wouldn’t arrest me – he’d throw away the key.”
Just because dead bodies kept turning up in my locker, the inept police force, Detective Johnson in particular, assumed I was a murderer. Sabrina had thought it a great idea for us to find the real killer ourselves. Much law breaking had ensued and, despite us catching the murderer, we each had a decade of community service in reparation for our “crimes”. People say life isn’t fair. They should try being dead.
I angled the knife under my corpse’s eyelashes. The last thing I wanted to do was slice her eyelid open or accidentally trim her eyelashes off.
Sabrina stilled my hand before I could do anything. “Er, Bridge? What are you doing?”
I held up my Chanel Le Volume mascara. “I’m opening my eyes so I can apply some mascara.” I looked down at my corpse’s face and then back up at Sabrina. “Obviously.”
Sabrina didn’t let go of my knife hand. “Yeah, I don’t think you really want to be slitting those open.”
“I can’t apply it properly with my eyes closed, can I?”
“They’re sewn shut for a reason, dear.” Edith stood on the opposite side of the table and looked down at my dead body’s face. Edith’s grimace became deeper the longer she stared.
I pointed the knife at my corpse’s face. “Look at me. This is going to be everyone’s last impression of me. This.”
Both of them winced and, feeling vindicated, I shook off Sabrina’s hold before pressing the knife back to my corpse’s eye.
Sabrina grabbed my hand again. “Your coffin will be closed. No one will even see you.”
“I can’t be buried looking like that,” I whined and twisted my hand so the knife pointed to my corpse’s face again.
Sabrina shook her head. “I don’t really think the worms will care.”
Edith held out her hand for the knife. “I’ll do it, dear. Barry’s father used to go fishing. He would think he was the man of the house because he brought home the catch. I was the one who had to gut and debone them. The sight of blood made him squeamish.” With three quick slashes Edith sliced through the stitches in my corpse’s eyes and mouth.
“Thank you.” I sighed happily and watched the dagger disappear from Edith’s hands like a magic trick. Made me wonder where she kept it. “Now will one of you hold my eye open so I can curl my eyelashes, please?”
Edith nodded to Sabrina. “Your turn, dear.”
Sabrina’s lip curled as she gingerly pulled up my eyelid and looked at the ceiling. “Bridge, I want you to understand – this is what true friendship looks like.”
“Uh-huh,” I agreed, focusing on curling all the eyelashes carefully and equally. “Other eye.”
“That’s your side,” Sabrina said to Edith with a shudder, wiping her fingers on her trousers. I really didn’t see what the big deal was.
Once I’d curled the other side I stepped back and admired my handiwork.
“Excellent.” I moved to the head of my corpse and pulled a packet of fake eyelashes from my pocket. “Now, this is going to be a three person job.”
Sabrina glanced from me to the packet then back to me. “You need help.”
I patted her on the shoulder and smiled. “That’s why I’ve got you.”
“Not quite what I meant,” Sabrina mumbled as I directed her and Edith to their positions.
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