by Mintie Das
“Drink? You know my mom is all about consistency. She’s at it every day, all day.”
“I remember,” I answer. “But I mean, does she sit here with your dead body a lot? Because it looks like she’s been here awhile.”
Naomi and I are both good at hiding things. How well you can pretend that everything is normal on the outside no matter what chaos is going on inside is what separates the amateurs from the pros. We’re fierce warriors when it comes to faking it.
Lie and deny. That’s our shared motto. Lie to everyone and deny to ourselves. The lump in my throat grows.
“She’s been down here every day since I died,” Naomi says.
“Which was Sunday evening!” I say it a bit too excitedly but I’m hoping this might shake something loose in Naomi’s head. “That was two days ago. Can you remember Sunday at all, Naomi?”
But Naomi is ignoring me and glaring at her mother. “The woman is cray.”
I have stopped trying to figure out why parents do the things they do but it’s obvious that Elizabeth is in a great deal of pain. “Naomi, she’s just lost her only daughter. Cut her some slack.”
“You and your mommy issues,” Naomi growls. “You’ve always had such a soft spot for her.”
It’s true that it’s always easier to feel sorry for drunks when they aren’t your own problem. But Naomi has downright rage for Liz and I don’t think it’s all because of her alcoholism.
“Hey, do you think we should wait for my mother to pass out and just do my makeup ourselves?” Naomi lifts the head of her dead body. The skin on the side of her face that is bashed in starts to slide down. “You know how my mother ends up making everyone look like a dead drag queen. And I want people to remember me as, you know—hot.”
Elizabeth jumps up, kicking over her chair in the process. “Naomi? Baby, are you here? Please, please talk to me.”
I race over and push Naomi away. She lets go of her head and it drops back onto the cold metal slab. “What are you doing? You’re gonna give your mother a heart attack!” I scold.
“That’s assuming she’s got a heart,” Naomi says wryly. She studies her bhoot fingernails, then shows them to me. “These claws are seriously out of control. I tried cutting them but it’s impossible. But now that you’re here, you can give me a mani-pedi.”
“Naomi!” Elizabeth shrieks, then breaks down crying.
“You’re being cruel.”
“Back off, Violet,” Naomi warns. “Lizzy didn’t give a damn about me except when it helped her. Those tears will be good and dry by the time they bury me.”
Then I remember. I was at a sleepover at Naomi’s. It was the summer before my eighth-grade year and before Naomi went to high school. She had discovered that her mother was having an affair with a doctor up at the hospital. She swore me to secrecy. It was the last time that I ever spent the night at the Talberts’. We never talked about it again but I can see now just how much Elizabeth’s transgression still hurts Naomi. She’s still furious at her.
“Naomi,” Mrs. Talbert calls out again.
“You’re still angry at her for cheating on your father, aren’t you?”
Naomi looks at me strangely and it takes her a minute to answer. “How did you—that’s right, I told you at my house. Yeah, I’m still pissed . . .”
Naomi lets her voice trail off and we stand there quietly as Elizabeth continues to cry out for her daughter.
“Mrs. Talbert?”
We whip around to see Lukas walking in.
“Leave me alone, please.” Elizabeth turns away from him.
“I’m sorry, ma’am, but we have a pickup and I need the space.” Lukas reaches into the jacket pocket of his undertaker suit and pulls out a tissue. “Here.”
His bedside manner leaves a lot to be desired but at least he’s coming off as human and even genuinely concerned. Elizabeth grabs the tissue and blows her nose. Lukas turns and now he’s much more monster as he glowers at Naomi and me. He points toward the exit and mouths, Get out.
“Wait, can the intern see us?” Naomi asks.
I don’t know how much Lukas wants Naomi to know but I really don’t care. I like to piss him off. “Yup, and he can hear us. That’s because Lukas isn’t just an intern. He works for the Aiedeo. He kills people for them. In fact, he tried to kill me yesterday, and most likely he’ll try again. Oh, and he’s immortal.”
“That’s kinda hot.”
I frown. “You did hear the part where I said he tried to kill me, right?”
“Bad boys are always more fun.” Naomi winks at Lukas. “Although he discovered me cooking up a batch of fry and lorded it over me, which was a total dick move.”
Fry are cigarettes dipped in embalming fluid. I have never tried them, nor would I—they supposedly mess you up bigtime. Not in a good way.
Now it makes sense. I remember how Naomi obeyed Lukas’s order to leave Dr. Jenkins alone. It must have been because she didn’t want to get in trouble for dealing drugs. I shake my head. Princess Naomi is a pusher? Just how many secrets is this girl hiding?
While Elizabeth strokes dead Naomi’s hair in a daze, Lukas glares at us so hard that his pupils start to dilate. Suddenly, we begin to vibrate.
“What’s he doing?” Naomi asks.
“I don’t know. Some Jedi mind trick. He pulled it on you at school the other day when you were chasing me.”
“Really? I can’t remember.”
I hold up my hand toward Lukas. “We’re leaving so you can stop doing whatever crazy crap you’re trying to do to us.”
“Yeah, we’re out.” Naomi checks her mobile. “Burner phone. Seems I lost my cell somewhere between living and dying. It’s almost impossible to get a signal in the afterworld—”
“That was in the police report,” I interrupt excitedly. “They couldn’t find your phone on you, so maybe we should start there. Figuring out what happened to your phone will allow us to trace your steps that night.”
“But Magnus just texted me the deets for the rave.”
“Who’s Magnus and what rave?”
“With the other ghosts, ghouls, spirits—bhoots—whatever,” Naomi says, as though it is perfectly normal.
“Absolutely no way!” I yell. I point to the clock hanging on the wall. “I have to find your killer by the time they bury you, which is, like, in two days!”
“Then I suggest a little tit for tat. You scratch my back. Whatever,” Naomi says in her most devious tone. “You come to the party with me and be my wingman and then I’ll answer all the questions you want.”
“I can’t go to a party because I need to solve your murder,” I protest.
Naomi eagle-eyes me from head to toe, then squishes up her face into a disapproving look. “But if we’re gonna be seen together, you need a serious makeover.”
Before I can object, Naomi grabs me and we are flying out the door.
Nineteen
I PULL DOWN THE ZIPPER on the jacket of my black Adidas tracksuit. Technically, it’s Naomi’s tracksuit, which means that the pants hug my booty so tight that I’m afraid to fart lest I rip them apart at the seams. I fought Naomi on the outfit but the fashionista insisted that the real world and the bhoot world are all about the badonkadonk.
Naomi also brushed my long black hair out, waxed my brows, and piled on the blusher and lip gloss. I put my (backwards) foot down and won against bronzer, which even as a bhoot brown girl I don’t need. And I yanked off my fake eyelashes the moment she put them on because I was starting to look like a dead Kardashian. I would have loved to finish the makeover with a cool pair of kicks but footwear didn’t really work with my ratchet feet. Nevertheless, I feel pretty fly.
We’re back in Naomi’s room and I’m letting her make me over for the rave, but the last thing that I want to do is get down to Major Lazer with a bunch of bhoots. I want to be home and alive and normal again.
Naomi stands back and looks me over from head to toe. “You look so dope! We’re gonna have a blas
t!”
“Naomi, please, let’s just go to Grant Elementary first and see if it jogs your memory. Especially because I’m pretty sure your killer isn’t going to be at a rave.”
Naomi crosses her arms and swings her hip out. “And how exactly are you going to find my preta? With your powers?”
I understand her skepticism. I have quite a bit of it too. It doesn’t help to have a countdown to my permanent death. Of course, having Naomi with me is a bonus if she’d give me some information. I decide to take another stab at some questions.
I try to keep the desperation out of my voice. If Naomi senses weakness, she pounces. “Going back to the scene of the crime might help you remember something.”
“Not if I don’t have any clue about what happened.” Naomi shifts her weight to her other leg. “Besides, what if this is a trick and the Aiedeo are just going to get rid of you anyway?”
As shady as the Aiedeo are, I hadn’t thought of this option. “I suppose that’s a possibility. But, you know, you’re also getting something huge out of this too. Eternal peace, remember?”
“What does that even mean?” Naomi scoffs. “Maybe it’s better to be like this and not alone. We’d be here together.”
My jaw drops. “Are you kidding me? You want me to die so you’ll have a permanent BFF?”
“Why do you get an option to live or die?” Naomi shouts. “I never got that choice!”
There it is. Naomi’s other face. I can feel my blood boiling. “And what would you have us spend the rest of eternity doing? Going to raves and hooking up with random scrubs? Maybe I can video your exploits. I mean, I’m not sure if your last sex tape made it to the afterworld.”
“Sex tape . . .” Naomi stares at me with a combination of rage, which I know so well from her, and hurt, a far less familiar emotion. Her voice is quiet at first, then rapidly crescendoes as she says, “Sex tape? You think me being screwed by a couple of guys when I was so trashed that I didn’t even know what was going on is a sex tape? That I wanted that to happen? And that I wanted everyone to see it? My friends, my teachers, my neighbors, my parents—my little brother!”
“I didn’t . . . I just thought that . . .” I don’t know what to say.
“Fuck. You.” Streams of tears fall down Naomi’s face. “You were never my friend, Violet. And I don’t care if you live or die.”
I reach out for Naomi but she flies out of her bedroom window. I start to go after her when something stops me. I look down and see that my black tracksuit is now all white. I’m confused for a couple of minutes as I try to figure out what just happened and then it dawns on me. Wearing all white is another step into permanent Bhoot World.
The Aiedeo have sent me another warning. My time is running out.
Day 8: Dead
I’m at Grandma’s Griddle, trying my hardest to be a detective. This is the diner where I sometimes waitress and it’s not nearly as folksy as its name sounds. The apple pie comes frozen and the mashed potatoes are from a box.
Naomi hasn’t answered my calls since last night. Detective Alvarez has been trying to reach me and she also stopped by my place yesterday with Sanborn. Dede covered for me with the same excuse we’ve been using with everybody, which is that I have a throat virus and that’s why I can’t see or speak with anyone.
Alvarez told Dede they wanted to ask me some questions because, according to Naomi’s phone records, she’d texted me right before she died. With all the hoopla that’s been going on, I seriously forgot about that threatening message from Naomi. But now I’m staring right at it: I know it was you, Violet. And I’m going to kill you.
Could anything sound more incriminating? It’s makes it seem like Naomi and I were embroiled in a blood feud.
But I can’t think about it. I’ve got to focus on Naomi’s killer. That’s why I’m at the restaurant. I texted Meryl late last night updating her on recent developments, the biggest being that I’m dead and I need to find Naomi’s killer. Of course, she freaked out like I expected, and it took me a while to calm her down. This morning, she sent me a message reminding me about the power breakfast that her DA dad and some other town bigwigs have every Thursday at the Griddle. I’m crossing my fingers that they’ll bring up Naomi’s case.
The group sits at the large corner booth located by the picture window. I’m positive they’re here not for the food but for the privacy. There are rarely any other customers at this hour. In fact, the only time Grandma’s is ever busy is on game days, and that’s only if every other place in town is packed.
The group consists of Stan Stevens, the mayor; Joanie Gilbert, head of the city council; Leslie Adams, county treasurer; Sheriff Wayne Hopper; and Dan Miller, the district attorney and Meryl’s dad. These are the people responsible for the way politics, law, and commerce are handled in Meadowdale. I’m not quite sure in what way, but I know in our tiny town bubble, these guys are at the center of it all. Usually they’re joined by Jim Talbert, who is conspicuously absent from today’s meeting.
I’m sitting between Dan and Joanie. Good old-fashioned eavesdropping seems like it’s the heart of detective work. Veronica Mars makes a habit of it.
They’ve been droning on about fishing licenses to the point where I want to stick my face in the lake of maple syrup that the sheriff poured over his pancakes and drown myself. I’ve waited on them a couple of times. I usually don’t pay attention to anything they say.
Once I overheard Joanie make a racist joke using the N-word. Maybe the rest of them were uncomfortable but no one said anything. They just laughed along. Even Dan.
I never told Meryl about it. I’m not sure why, since Meryl is far from a daddy’s girl.
“The Talbert case is turning into a shit-show,” Mayor Stevens says through a mouthful of Denver omelet. “We have to get it under control. Now.”
My ears perk up and I look at the mayor.
“Stan, I’m doin’ all I can,” says Sheriff Hopper. “We got all our guys on it. It’s our top priority.”
“Naomi was Meadowdale royalty.” The mayor pours creamer into his coffee. “Well, at least until that goddamn sex tape showed up. What a shame.”
“Sex tape?” Dan frowns.
Dan Miller is the shining star of this crew and pretty much any room he walks into. It’s rumored that he’s on the fast track to becoming state’s attorney but Meryl told me what her dad really wants is to be governor. He’s got the instincts of a shark, which will probably take him as far as he wants to go.
“Well, surely you’ve seen it?” Joanie exclaims. “ ’Cause just about everyone else has. Back in my day, a girl kept her legs shut. Or at least knew better than to record it. I mean, that video was triple-X pornographic!”
“Joanie, a seventeen-year-old girl was murdered. Have some respect. It’s a heartbreaking tragedy,” Leslie Adams says shakily.
“Of course it is! God bless the Talbert family. I don’t think there’s a single person who doesn’t feel their pain. That’s why we’re desperate for Wayne and his team to solve this case, so we can all start healing.” Joanie presses her hand to her heart.
Ever since I heard Joanie tell that racist joke, I have fantasies where I take her down in front of the entire town. Seriously, even without knowing what a fake she is, does anyone really buy her “concerned for the community” act?
Dan clears his throat. “What I meant is that by calling it a sex tape, you’re implying that it was something that Naomi was complicit in. Wayne, I understand that those two FBI detectives from Chicago—Alvarez and Sanborn—were in to see you yesterday.”
“They were. They want to link this tape with the murder just like you’re suggestin’.” Hopper arches his eyebrows as though the notion is pure poppycock. “Actually makin’ me bring in the entire baseball team ’cause of a simple tattoo.”
Mayor Stevens and Joanie exchange looks that I can’t quite read.
“I forgot they visited you twice yesterday. I want to discuss what happened on their se
cond round to your offices, right before they came to see me.” Dan speaks to the sheriff like he’s a teenager caught shoplifting. “They gave me the same information they gave you and I want to know what your office is going to do about it.”
The sheriff lets out a long-drawn-out sigh. “For Christ’s sake. The FBI is tentatively saying that they identified the two boys in that sex tape. But my team still has to confirm it.”
My heart starts to pound harder.
“You know who they are?” Leslie asks. “Why hasn’t anyone told me?”
“Because we haven’t made an official statement, but you can’t stop the busybodies from spreading their fake news.”
“What do you mean by fake, Wayne?” Dan shakes his head. “This is not tentative or speculative. The FBI confirmed the identity of the two males in the video.”
Now my heart is pounding so hard that I can hear it.
“Just hold on a minute before we start jumpin’ to all kinds of places we don’t need to go. I don’t see how this sex tape necessarily relates to my murder investigation.” Sheriff Hopper picks a piece of gristle out of his teeth with a toothpick.
I want to reach across the table and shove the entire pack of toothpicks down his throat.
Dan sets his coffee mug down and glares at the sheriff. “A girl is raped. The day after the video is leaked, she’s murdered, and you don’t think there could be a connection?”
Rape. My stomach churns.
“Rape! Listen, it’s no surprise that Jim and Liz are comin’ up with these cockamamie stories. They acted like Naomi walked on water or somethin.’ And hell, everyone knows what a pretty penny Jim was makin’ off his daughter’s influencer business. But don’t tell me you’re buyin’ it, Dan.” Joanie scoops up a piece of grapefruit and pops it into her mouth. I hope it’s rotten and full of worms.
“I’ve seen it hundreds of times before. Especially over there at the college.” Hopper sits back against the booth and kicks his leg out into the aisle. “A pretty young girl gets inebriated. She has sex. Sometimes it’s with multiple partners like they show in those rap videos. The girl finally sobers up, and of course, she’s full of regret and shame. So then she cries rape.”
