“Is trying to kill you,” Griffin finished. “Before you get your hopes up, I need you to grasp this whole situation.”
I waited.
“If your mother died, then the Grimponds will know because they collected her soul,” Griffin said. “Didn’t Genevieve Toth say that your mother lived after the fire because she pulled her out?”
Dang! How did I keep missing such obvious questions? Months earlier, Genevieve Toth, a centuries-old ghoul who lived off the life essence of others, admitted she pulled my mother from the fire and she died after the fact. I’d pushed that admission out of my mind at the time because I didn’t want to believe her – even though she had my mother’s wedding ring. Fontaine’s admission made her story sound more and more likely.
“If Genevieve was telling the truth, she had my mother for a long time after she supposedly died,” I said. “The Grimponds would’ve been lying about reaping her.”
“There’s a lot about this that’s not making sense right now,” Griffin cautioned. “If your mother died, then her soul was reaped and she’s not alive. That still leaves us with the question of how Genevieve got your mother’s ring. If Genevieve pulled her from the fire, why would the Grimponds lie about reaping her? If your mother somehow survived longer than Genevieve said, where did she go? This all still leads back to the Grimponds. We need to know what they know.”
I grabbed both sides of Griffin’s face and planted a huge kiss on his mouth, taking him by surprise. When I pulled back, his face was flushed – although he appeared to enjoy my sexually aggressive showing. “What was that for?”
“You’re smarter than I am,” I said. “I didn’t want to deal with what Genevieve told me, so I just kind pushed it out of my mind. When Fontaine told me my mother was alive, that should have been the first thing I investigated. I let myself wallow in self-pity instead of going after the obvious answers.”
“You weren’t wallowing in self-pity,” Griffin argued. “You were trying to make sense of things. That’s a lot to deal with.”
“Why didn’t you point out any of this to me before?”
“I wanted to give you time to adjust. It’s only been two weeks. I didn’t want to push you.”
“Well, apparently I needed the push to accept what was right in front of me,” I said. “We have a definite place to start.”
“We do,” Griffin agreed. “I’m going to take the list of rogue reaper names and run them. Maybe I can find a name to go with the face from the bar last night. I assume you’re going to try to set up a meeting with this Grimpond family, right?”
I nodded.
“I prefer you don’t go alone, but I don’t see a lot of options on that front as long as you’re going to keep your family in the dark,” Griffin said. “I’m not part of the reaper world, so I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t be welcome. Promise me you set the meeting for a busy restaurant so no one can grab you or make you disappear.”
“I promise.”
“Good,” Griffin said, grabbing my shoulders. “I’d hate to have to kill someone I don’t even know to find you.” He flipped me over and rolled on top of me. “Now that you’re feeling better, I don’t suppose you want to show me what the ladies on The View talk about, do you?”
I smiled. I couldn’t help myself. “What did you have in mind?”
“I’m so glad you asked!”
I pushed my mother and the questions I’d been too distracted to ask out of my mind. We finally had a place to start. For tonight, that was more than enough.
“Prepare to be a slave to my hormones,” I said, laughing as Griffin tickled me. “You’re going to be putty in my hands.”
“Baby, I’ve been putty in your hands since the moment I met you. Now … come on! Show me what you’ve got.”
“You two really are animals,” Aidan called from the other room. “I’m telling Dad!”
I ignored him. I had better things to do with my night.
Ten
“Wow! What the heck is all this?”
By the time Griffin and I left my bedroom Monday morning I was feeling a lot better about things. I still didn’t feel great about myself – especially after sneaking through my father’s files – but we had a place to start our search and merely having a direction brightened my mood.
The smell of Jerry’s famous blueberry pancakes was an added bonus.
“I made your favorite breakfast, Bug,” Jerry said, spatula at the ready as he stood in front of the griddle in his favorite “Kiss the Chef” apron. “It’s a big day for you. You need a full stomach.”
“What do you mean ‘it’s a big day for me?’” Could Jerry know what I planned? That’s ridiculous. The only way he could know was by eavesdropping. Even Jerry wouldn’t go that far. Wait … would he? “Why do you think today is a big day for me?” I hoped I didn’t sound as frantic as I felt.
Aidan, who sat at the kitchen table sipping a mug of coffee and perusing the morning newspaper, glanced up. “You’re awfully jumpy this morning,” he said. “I would think after last night you would be relaxed.” He shot a dark look in Griffin’s direction. “Very relaxed.”
Griffin ignored him and instead maneuvered around me so he could settle at the table. “Anything interesting in today’s newspaper?”
“Just more doom and gloom,” Aidan replied. “Oh, well, that and someone took a photo of what looks to be a tiger in the old Packard plant.”
“A tiger?” Griffin was intrigued. “That could be fun. I’m glad I’m not tasked to the animal control team. I wouldn’t want to wrestle a tiger.”
Aidan snorted. “Aisling always wanted a pet tiger when she was little,” he said.
“Hey, we both wanted that tiger,” Jerry chided. “I even had a rhinestone collar picked out for it. We were going to name it Elizabeth Taylor.”
“We were not going to name it Elizabeth Taylor,” I shot back, relieved that Jerry’s earlier topic appeared abandoned. “You wanted to name it Elizabeth Taylor. I wanted to name it Bruce Banner.”
“You wanted to name a tiger after the Hulk?” Griffin asked, reaching for the coffee carafe. “Doesn’t that strike you as … odd?”
“I liked the Hulk.”
“She pretended to be the Hulk,” Aidan corrected. “She walked around growling for hours on end. Jerry was her sidekick.”
“Hey! I have never been anyone’s sidekick,” Jerry corrected. “I was a co-headliner. Get it right.”
“If she was the Hulk, what did that make you?” Griffin asked, turning his attention to Jerry. “Were you Thor? I can see you as Thor.”
Jerry rolled his eyes. “I was never Thor – although I did like his cape and I like to think people feel as if they’ve been struck by lightning whenever they’re in my presence. I like the idea of being a god, too. Huh. I wonder why I was never Thor.”
“I’m almost afraid to ask … .” Griffin knit his eyebrows together and I had a feeling he was internally debating whether he wanted to know which superhero lived nearest and dearest to Jerry’s heart.
Aidan smirked. “Don’t worry. He wasn’t Wonder Woman. I can see that going through your head, and as a gay man I have to tell you, assuming he wanted to be Wonder Woman is totally offensive.”
Griffin balked. “That’s not what I was thinking!” His cheeks flushed and I could tell that’s exactly what he was thinking.
Jerry patted Griffin’s shoulder. “Don’t worry. I’m not offended. Wonder Woman had the best accessories. I can see why your mind would go there.”
I shuffled over to the table and sat in the open spot next to Griffin. “Tell him why you didn’t want to be Wonder Woman,” I suggested. “I think he needs more information before he can guess which superhero you wanted to be.”
“I don’t need more information,” Griffin interjected hurriedly. “I’m fine with the amount of information I have right now.”
Never one to turn down a chance to talk about himself, Jerry embraced the long-forgotten superhero stage of our a
dolescence with a wide grin. “While Wonder Woman had the great accessories and a fantastic whip – and I desperately wanted to be an Amazonian princess – ultimately I could never be her because the outfit cut me funny and Mr. Grimlock said I couldn’t wear it around the house because it was obscene.”
Griffin glanced at me, his lips pursed as he tried not to laugh at the image.
“I considered Batman for a little bit, but rubber makes me sweat and black is simply a boring color,” Jerry continued. “I think Batman was so depressed all the time because he never incorporated color into his wardrobe.”
“I think his suit was made out of latex,” Aidan corrected. “I look great in black, by the way.”
“Is this your story or mine?” Jerry asked, eyes narrowed.
Aidan rolled his eyes until they landed on me. “I’m so glad you started this.”
“No, ultimately I decided that if I wanted to be a superhero I needed one that embodied all that was good and wonderful about the world,” Jerry said, his eyes taking on a far-off quality.
“I’m actually excited to hear the answer to the question I asked five minutes ago,” Griffin prodded. “Were you Captain America?”
Jerry was horrified. “Captain America? Don’t you know that red and blue are an eyesore when paired?”
“I guess I didn’t know that,” Griffin admitted. “I guess that rules Superman out.”
“Superman was far too angsty,” Jerry said. “And a Fortress of Solitude? Why deprive the world of the wonder that is me? No, I was … Aquaman.” Jerry delivered the last line and then waited for Griffin to break into applause. For his part, Griffin looked stumped.
“Aquaman?” Griffin wrinkled his nose. “Aquaman was the worst. His costume was so … .”
“Awesome,” Jerry interjected, cutting Griffin off. “Aquaman was a god amongst sea dwellers. He could ride a shark if he wanted. Can Superman ride a shark?”
“I technically think Superman could ride a shark if he was so inclined,” Griffin replied.
“Of course Superman couldn’t ride a shark,” Jerry argued. “Only Aquaman could ride a shark. Plus, I look great in a wetsuit.”
“Oh, don’t sell yourself short,” I said. “You love the way you look when you’re fresh out of the shower and your hair is damp and your cheeks are rosy. You would have made a great Aquaman.”
“Why are you encouraging him to be Aquaman?” Griffin asked. “He’s a horrible superhero. You only want him to be Aquaman so he has no choice but to be your sidekick.”
“That is a lie,” I said, extending a warning finger. “I liked it when he was Aquaman because he spent weeks trying to talk to the fish in our aquarium. It drove my father nuts when Jerry explained that they didn’t like the décor in the second-floor library and he should hire an interior decorator who wasn’t old or dead.”
“Ah,” Griffin said, smiling. “I see. What superhero were you, Aidan?”
“I was Superman.” Aidan looked Griffin up and down. “Let me guess … you were Batman, weren’t you?”
“How did you know?”
“You’ve got that brooding quality that women love,” Aidan replied, not missing a beat. “Also, Batman was a whiner. You’ve always struck me as a whiner.”
“Whatever, Superman,” Griffin muttered.
“Oh, don’t worry,” I said, grabbing Griffin’s hand and offering him a reassuring squeeze. “I think you would’ve made a cute Batman.”
“I think you would’ve made a cute Hulk,” Griffin countered, leaning over and planting a quick kiss on my lips. “You can show me how you rip through your clothes when you get home tonight.”
“Oh, gross,” Aidan complained. “Now I’’’ be haunted by that image all day.”
“You’ll live,” Griffin shot back. “If I have to picture Aquaman and Superman riding sharks together, you can deal with Batman and the Hulk playing … um … .”
I decided to help him. “Quidditch?”
Griffin scowled. “Seriously? Now you’re just talking nonsense. Batman would never play Quidditch. Thank you for trying to help, though. I had no idea where I was going with that.”
“I’m pretty sure this whole conversation was aimless from the start,” I said.
Jerry took advantage of the conversational lull and dished out heaping plates of pancakes and bacon for everyone before joining us at the table. For the next few minutes, the only sounds were chewing and clinking silverware. My mind was already on my day when Jerry yanked the rug out from under me.
“You never told me whether you’re nervous, Bug.”
I stilled, my fork halfway to my mouth. “I … why would I be nervous? I’m not up to anything that would make me nervous. Why would you think I’m nervous?”
Aidan arched an eyebrow and swallowed. “Because it’s your first day working alone,” he said. “What did you think he was talking about?”
“I … that’s what I thought he was talking about,” I said, my heart rate slowing.
“Yeah, now I think you are up to something,” Aidan said. “Dad said he gave you only one job today. It’s actually a slow day for all of us. What do you have planned?”
“I … .” Crap!
“She’s meeting me for a private lunch,” Griffin answered smoothly. “We’re going to a new place downtown that’s supposed to be romantic. Mind your own business.”
Aidan didn’t look convinced. “Are you telling me she’s acting weird because you two are going to have a nooner? I’m not sure I buy that.”
Griffin scorched him with a look. “I’m saying that she’s excited to be on her own and we’re going to have a nice lunch. Don’t be a pig. She’s your sister and this is a big day for her. Try to be on her side for a change.”
“Okay,” Aidan said, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “I still think something is going on.”
He knew me too well. He could tell I was lying. I could only hope he thought I was nervous because I was doing something kinky with Griffin during our lunch hour. Huh. There’s something I never thought I’d wish for.
“Do you think Aquaman has nooners?” Jerry asked, lost in his head. “Since he has to wait an hour after lunch before swimming, I’m guessing he doesn’t.”
I patted Jerry’s hand. “I’m sure if you were Aquaman you could figure a way to do it. You’re just that amazing.”
“I am that amazing,” Jerry agreed, turning his attention back to his breakfast. “If I were Aquaman I would rule the oceans while my Superman ruled the skies.” He sent Aidan a saucy wink.
“No one can ever tell Dad we had this conversation,” Aidan said. “A reenactment of this conversation could be exactly what it takes to push him over the edge to a massive coronary.”
I couldn’t help but agree. “Don’t worry. My lips are sealed.”
“Don’t tell him about your nooner either,” Aidan warned.
“Sometimes I hate you,” I muttered.
“Sometimes I give you good reason to hate me,” Aidan said, winking. “Be careful on your job today. If you need help, call me.”
“It’s one woman,” I replied. “How much trouble could it be?”
“GET OUT of my house you filthy whore!”
I’m not going to lie. This isn’t how I saw my first solo job going. I had no one to blame but myself. I had one name on my list. One. Forty-year-old Nancy Travers died on her bedroom floor in a two-story house on a lonely Detroit street filled with abandoned homes. It wasn’t a great neighborhood.
The fact that she was so young was tragic enough. Had I looked closer at her file, though, I would’ve seen that she didn’t die of natural causes. No, Nancy Travers died at the hands of her alcoholic husband – and he was still in the house. I didn’t notice him right away when I entered because he was passed out on the couch. He heard me talking to the distraught woman’s soul in the bedroom, though, and he came to investigate. Unfortunately, he still possessed the knife he used to stab his wife twenty times.
“
He’s going to kill you. You know that, right?” For someone who was brutally murdered by her husband thirty minutes earlier, Nancy was unusually calm. She seemed more worried about my safety than her own future.
We were hiding in her bedroom, me on the floor with my feet pressed against the bottom of the door and my back braced against the bed to keep it shut as her husband mercilessly pounded on the other side. “I figured he had that in mind when he announced he was going to gut me and play with my body parts once they were severed from my body,” I replied dryly, glancing around the room. If I let go of the door now, he’d rush inside and kill me. I still had a soul to absorb and an escape to make. I didn’t think making an anonymous call to the police would hurt. In his current state, Fred Travers was going to take out the rest of the neighborhood if he wasn’t contained. “How much did he have to drink?”
Nancy shrugged. “He usually goes through an entire fifth a day. He starts in the morning and goes until he passes out.”
“When does he usually pass out?”
“In the afternoon. I almost never have to cook dinner these days because he’s long gone beforehand. It’s been a godsend because I’m such a terrible cook.”
Sympathy tugged at my heart. Nancy Travers was a beaten woman – in more ways than one. Death was probably a welcome respite compared to the hell she’d been living in. “Why didn’t you leave him?”
“I had nowhere to go.” She was pretty matter-of-fact for a murder victim.
“Well, I can’t sit here all day and wait for him to pass out,” I said. “I have a lunch meeting I can’t miss and you … well … you have a much nicer place to go to.”
Nancy forced a smile. Nothing good had happened to her in so long she’d obviously lost all hope. “You don’t have to lie to me.”
“I’m not lying. You’re going to Heaven. I read that in your file. I just missed the line about you dying at the hands of your tool husband, but I do know you’re going to Heaven.”
“I’m going to kill you!” Fred raged on the other side of the door. “I’m going to get my ax, bitch. When I come back I’m going to chop you into little pieces.”
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