Sort of Dead

by Rob Rosen

  I nodded, my own frown evident. “Spurred Nord’s murder?” I said. “Yes, also probably.”

  To which Clark added, “And, again, is there anything you can do to help tie it all together for us?”

  Didi bent down and pet her dog, who promptly rolled over onto her side, giant tongue lolling. She again looked up at us. “What if he finds out I helped?” she asked. “What if he is what you think he is, and he finds out I helped you? What if he didn’t finish the job yet?” No one needed to point at the scarf; we all knew what job she was talking about.

  I didn’t have an answer for her. He was a murderer. Potentially. He tried to kill her. Maybe. He was an azzhole. Most definitely. In any case, someone was onto us now. Paula, for sure. But what if he didn’t try to kill his wife and was simply swapping money around, legally or illegally? Or maybe he wanted to kill his wife but that had nothing to do with my murder? He was cheating on her, after all. Maybe this was the next step. Anyway, that was too many maybes, and none of them were getting me any closer to my poof.

  “Well,” I said to her, “if he tried to kill you, you’re just fighting fire with fire. And if he didn’t, he’s still stealing from your bank account without telling you. Either way, you’re being played.” Sounded logical. At least to me. Kudos to me.

  She seemed to think said logic over. “I have an apartment nearby. A rental. Vacant now. Chaz doesn’t know.” She winked. I winked. Clark winked. Muffin farted. Eve waved her hand in front of her face. The van was too small. We were too big. Or at least some of us were. “Take me there. I’ll see if I can find a way to locate some evidence that Chaz is linked to that document. I have access to our banks, even the ones Chaz doesn’t know I know about. Again, same passwords. Stupid schmuck. But whatever I find, you all need to leave me out of it. No police. No media. Chaz gets whatever he deserves. Me, I’m the shocked wife, the abandoned wife, the one everyone will feel sorry for.” She didn’t look pitiable. Formidable, sure, but not someone you felt sorry for, especially in her Hermes scarf and Cartier watch. Did I mention the Louboutin’s? Did I mention the diamond earrings? Yeah, well, truth was, despite the almost being murdered, Didi I had a feeling would land on her feet—Louboutin’s and all.

  “Fine,” I said. “Find out the connection to the document and Nord, and no word to the media or the police. Promise.”

  We pinky swore. All of us. Seemed like the thing to do. For three drag queens, I mean.

  Chapter 9

  Didi’s—wink-wink—apartment was a condo ten miles away in a nondescript building in a nondescript neighborhood. In other words, there’s no need to describe it. Especially since she didn’t invite us up. Or thank us for saving her life. Probably saving her life, that is. Maybe we could take equal billing with Muffin on that one.

  “I’ll be in touch,” she said as she hopped out of the van, scarf blowing in the wind, muffin quickly by her side.

  “How?” I hollered after her as the expensive shoes clicked on the pavement. “You don’t even know us, let alone our phone numbers.”

  She pointed at the van. “Dog drag,” she replied enigmatically before disappearing inside the building.

  I looked at Clark. He shrugged. I looked at Eve. “My phone number,” she said, also pointing at the side of the van now, only from inside the van, manicured nails aiming left. “Spells out dog drag.”

  “Clever?”

  She squinted my way. “Eat shit was taken. And now what?”

  I looked at my watch. We still had an hour to meet my mother. I knew what the now what was. I gave him the address to drive to.

  Clark tapped me on the shoulder. “That’s my address.”

  “Yeah,” I said. “Time to regroup.”

  He smiled. He liked me. He liked the group better. Or at least a certain diminutive member of it. “Just to be clear—”

  “Why start now?” Eve interjected with as she sped away.

  I didn’t object. She had a point. I sat on the ground and pet Britney instead. Clark sat next to me and pet Christina. “Do you trust Didi?” he asked.

  I breathed in. I breathed out. I searched my borrowed brain for an answer. Did I? Should I have? Did I have a choice? “The scarf was nice,” I replied. “I think my mom might have owned a similar one. Looked familiar.”

  Clark chuckled, which instantly settled my pumping ticker, just a bit. “Your mom wears Hermes scarves?”

  Not even close. Not even knockoffs. “The design, not the scarf it sat upon.” I turned his way. “Do you trust Didi?”

  It was his turn to breathe in and out. “I don’t trust any of them, Nord. He cheats on her. She cheats on him. All of them are hiding things, big things, illegal and otherwise. You were murdered. One of them, two of them, all of them, maybe, were involved. That much is clear now.”

  “But what if she really can help? What if she can tie that document to my death?”

  Eve coughed from the driver’s seat. “Sorry. That just sounds so fucking weird.”

  I nodded. “Tell me about it.” I stopped petting the dog and took Clark’s hand in mine. My heart beat its normal pace again. Voltan would be pleased I didn’t have a coronary during all this shit. “I say, let’s trust her to a point. She already knows enough, maybe too much; let’s not add anything more. See what she comes up with, or doesn’t, and part ways. We have enough shit on her that I’d tend to doubt she’ll darken our doorsteps when all is said and done.” Not that Arby’s had a doorstep, but still.

  He also nodded, squeezed my hand in his. “It was how she trusted us so easily. How she didn’t comment on the three drag queens in her house. So, yeah, I don’t trust her, but she was mugged, maybe almost murdered. Maybe she was in shock. Her husband might be a killer, a thief, all on top of already being a cheater.”

  “And an azz.”

  The chuckle returned. “I’m glad you can keep your sense of humor through all this.”

  “Everything else is borrowed,” I told him. “Everything but that.”

  Eve again coughed as she pulled up to Clark’s apartment, formerly Max’s. “Sorry. That also just sounds so fucking weird.”

  “Yeah,” I said. “And I have a feeling there’s more weirdness to come.”

  * * * *

  We were back together again minutes later. The spirits were waiting for us. I could feel them when I entered Clark’s apartment, gaydar turned ghostar.

  We swapped back, me and Voltan. We had little time before we had to leave for the bar, but they needed to be filled in, and I needed to be with Max again. I was certain Clark felt the same about Voltan. We went back to Arby’s. Bruce stayed in the real world, to the tether of his brother. I didn’t know if it was painful to be so close and yet so far away, but that was his choice, and at least he still had one, at least we could offer him that much.

  Arby’s, as always, was invigorating. Then again, with Max in my arms, maybe my emotions were a tad tainted. And with his lips soon on mine, who was I to argue?

  But we had to meet my mom, and I needed to make sure she was alright, and so, the kiss was sadly all too short. And then I told him all we’d done, and seen, and learned.

  He whistled, or at least tried to, and said, “You weren’t even gone all that long.”

  “Long enough,” I countered with, hugging him closer. “Too long.”

  He nodded into the crook of my neck. “Tell me about it.”

  I didn’t need to; we were two hearts that beat as one. Though of course, without the actual hearts. Or anything that beat anymore. Even though the beat went on, as always. Meaning, I was soon enough back in Voltan’s body, and then we were all in the Scooby van zooming to my mommy.

  “You’re smiling awfully wide,” I whispered into Clark’s ear.

  “You were gone just long enough,” he whispered back.

  “But Bruce was still there,” I said.

  To which Eve glumly added, “So was I.”

  I stopped whispering. The van was clearly too small to bother with it.
Or maybe I wasn’t yet accustomed to working Voltan’s lips and tongue and lungs. “Does anyone, living or dead, have any thoughts on how we should proceed once my mom is in tow?”

  Eve smirked. “Does she know how to groom a dog?”

  I shook my head. “Highly unlikely.”

  “Then no, no thoughts.”

  “Someplace safe,” said Clark. “We shouldn’t have even gone back to my apartment just now. They know who we are and where we live. Didn’t seem like we were followed, but we can’t be too safe.” He looked out the front window and then out the back one. Eve had merged onto a highway. Eve drove like she dressed—fast and loose, that is to say. In other words, she swerved and sped and did all sorts of illegal merges. “Yeah, I don’t think we were followed. Least not successfully.”

  I looked at the driver and wondered if she could provide us with some sort of safe haven, seeing as she really had been our savior—tips or not. Clark looked at the driver, too. The dogs, well, the dogs were again sleeping. As to the spirits, one would assume they were also looking at the drag queen behind the wheel. Said drag queen was looking at us through the rearview mirror. “What?” she said. Then, “Oh.” And then, “Maybe now would be a good time to start a diet.”

  Our eyes locked in on the eyes in the mirror. “Not enough room at your place for all of us?”

  She shook her head. “Not enough room in my apartment for me. You all will have to take turns breathing.”

  I smiled, more out of nerves than anything else. But she was our safest bet, for now. Whoever had killed me, and it was still anyone’s guess who that was, they didn’t know where Eve lived. Hopefully, they didn’t know who Eve even was, in or out of drag. Preferably the latter. So, yeah, tag, she was it. Me, I was tired of being it. Me, I was just plain, old tired.

  And then, twenty minutes later, we were pulling up to the dive bar that was so out of the way that even Google Maps hadn’t found it yet. “Fuck,” I said almost immediately as we pulled into a parking lot that was more crack than asphalt.

  Clark sucked in his breath. “That can’t be good.”

  “What?” said Eve as the van came to a bumpy stop, waking the dogs from their slumber. “Two old people sitting outside of a dive bar? Maybe this place gives an AARP discount. Or just AA, by the looks of it.”

  I pointed at the woman sitting on the front stoop. “Best not to call my mom old.”

  Clark pointed at the man sitting next to her. “And that one is our possible murderer number-three.”

  Eve scratched under her wig. I scratched under mine. Clark made it a trio. “Whose side is your mom on?” she asked.

  I shrugged as I slid the van door open. “Guess we’re about to find out.” I briefly turned back around. “This dress bullet-proof?”

  Eve shook her head. “I wouldn’t even bend over in that, let alone try to stop a bullet with it.”

  Mom squinted our way and pointed at said dress. “Do I even want to know?” she hollered as she quickly headed our way.

  I pointed at Glenn, the CFO of my old firm, the CFO and possible murderer. “Do I even want to know?” I shouted back.

  They soon hopped up. Or tried to—and failed. We hopped out. Or tried to. Our dresses were uber-tight. Ergo, hopping was better left to bunnies. In the end, we met in the middle.

  Mom wasn’t smiling. Then again, none of us were. “Um…” I managed, trying to avoid the elephant accountant in the parking lot.

  “Someone tried to kill Glenn,” Mom blurted out.

  My shoulders slumped. “Welcome to the club.”

  It was Glenn’s turn to squint. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Someone probably tried to kill Didi,” I replied. “Someone definitely killed Nord.”

  Clark was standing next to me. Well, towering, really. “Seems like a club to me. Or at least a very bad trend. Like acid-washed jeans”

  “Also,” I said, veering back on track, “Paula locked us in a basement. Death seemed imminent. The club almost grew by two.” I pointed at me and Clark, the two in question. Then I pointed at Eve. “Saved by a drag queen. Not the first time in history.”

  Eve smiled. “Or herstory.” She held out her less than dainty hand. “Eve O’Destruction: dog groomer, drag queen, savior.” Yep, yep, and yep. I was mostly happy with item number three.

  Glenn seemed to crack an uncharacteristic smile. “Unusual résumé.”

  Eve nodded. “We’re living in unusual times.”

  Dying in unusual ones, too. I thought. “Back to the almost murder,” I said to Glenn. “What happened, sir? Do you know who tried to kill you? And why?”

  His squint returned. “You look familiar. You work at the office, right?” He squinted at Clark. Or at least up at him. Way up, in fact. “You, too.” Seems our cover wasn’t so coverful. Did Didi see through it, too? Did she know who Voltan and Clark were to begin with? Damn, more and more questions and not nary an answer to be had.

  My mom shrugged. “I didn’t exactly tell him everything, boys.” She laughed. “Or, um, girls.” The laugh quickly turned to a rueful smile, and then not even that. “Just in case.”

  Glenn sighed, frowned. “You think I might have killed Nord.”

  I looked at Clark. Clark looked at Didi. Mom looked at me. Eve tapped her size fifteen pump and crossed her large arms over her equally large bosoms. “Well, did you?” she asked, pointblank.

  His sigh repeated. “Why in the world would I want to kill Nord?”

  Why would anyone? “Your wife left you for another woman,” I said. “You hated gay people. Nord was gay. Happens all the time. Senseless violence in the name of religion.” It really did happen all the time. All the fucking time. I was suddenly a statistic.

  He shook his head. “Why would you think that? And how do you know about my wife?”

  I hemmed and hawed. I hemmed so much I could have added a few inches to Clark’s dress. FYI, it needed more than a few. “Um, I was friends with Nord. Nord told me.” Yeah, that sounded good.

  The final sigh was the loudest. “My wife left me for another woman. My wife didn’t love me anymore. But I didn’t love her anymore, either. When she left me, I was more relieved than anything else.” He looked at my mom. “You knew, right? You knew we were having problems?”

  She nodded. “Last time I spoke with her, she was watching Ellen.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Your wallpaper at work, on your computer screen, it’s Pat Robertson.”

  He suddenly looked angry. “How did you know that? Why were you at my desk? Why were you looking at my computer?”

  I backed an inch away, then another. He was old, but I was in heels. In other words, shaky at best. “I was friends with Nord. I was looking around. I happened to see your computer wallpaper.”

  “Only, it wasn’t my wallpaper. Never was. At least not before that day.”

  My mom looked perplexed. “I would never be friends with a homophobe, Lewis. My son was gay.”

  “Temporary homophobe,” I replied. “Like temporary insanity. From the shock.”

  “Again,” said Glenn, “not a shock. And not a homophobe. And not my wallpaper. It just appeared there that day. I hadn’t even seen it. Didn’t even know about it until the police questioned it, also seeing the connection you seemed to.”

  “Oh,” said Eve.

  “Um,” said Clark.

  “Huh,” said I.

  “So,” said Eve, “if you didn’t put it there, then who did and why?”

  I raised my hand. “And, to backtrack, someone tried to kill you? Then why aren’t you dead?” Because I clearly didn’t have such luck. I mean, everyone escaped death except me. So not fair.

  Glenn started to answer. My mom stopped him. “We’re in a parking lot at a bar prisoners wouldn’t rush to with three men dressed like three women, and, to tell you the truth, my feet hurt, my head hurts, and there’s been too much murder and attempted murder for me to handle, so, if it’s not too much to ask, can we please have this convers
ation elsewhere?”

  Eve pointed at the van. “Your chariot awaits, ma’am.”

  My mom eyed said van with uncertainty. Or perhaps she was eying Britney as she peed against said van. As omens went, it couldn’t have been a great one. But then she looked at the honkytonk dive bar again, and her decision was apparently made. Mainly because she was being helped inside a moment later, Glenn following, Clark and me and Eve and the pups and, of course, a few spirits just after them. And I had thought my dress was a tight fit, but it couldn’t hold a candle to Eve’s van. Not that candles inside that van were a good idea. I mean, what with all the aerosol cans and synthetic fibers everywhere. Just saying.

  Ironically, we were in Eve’s apartment twenty minutes later, and the van, in comparison, was palatial. “Oomph,” said three drag queens, two old people, two dogs, and three ghosts, all at the same time. Though I was just guessing at the ghost part. Still, it was a good guess as guesses went. Again, just saying. Or thinking. Because it was best to conserve oxygen in that apartment by that point.

  “I need a drink,” groused my mom from somewhere in the center of the crush.

  A margarita magically appeared. One of the canned variety, but still.

  “Now,” I said, “now that we’re all safe and somewhat sound, can we please hear how Glenn was almost killed?”

  Glenn was in the kitchen. Or what passed for the kitchen. I could hear him, but I was in the living room behind Clark and Eve, and so I couldn’t see him. Funny, what with me not being living, sort of, and the living room only sort of being a living room to begin with, what with it also being a bedroom and a dining room.

  “First,” said Glenn, “the wallpaper. The police knew that Nord was gay. The police checked my computer because Nord had a financial document on his computer when he was shot.” I groaned. Not in my head but through my borrowed lips. “I’m the CFO, made sense to check my computer, too. They saw the wallpaper. They asked me about it. I said I’d never seen it before. They seemed not to believe me. Still, it’s a free world. Pat Robertson might as well be Satan, but even that wallpaper wouldn’t be illegal, so they told me not to leave town, and that was that.”