Death & Stilettos

by Jason Krumbine

  “Stop calling him that,” Avery says. She starts trudging through the garbage.

  “Where are we?”

  “City landfill, I think,” Avery replies.

  Brooke pulls a garbage bag filled with seafood off of her. “I don’t think I have enough soap to clean this off of me.”

  “I think the smell is burned inside of my nose,” Avery says.

  “Hey, at least we know who Perkins works for now,” Brooke says, following her.

  “It’s not much of a consolation prize,” Avery replies. “What was he doing at Burton’s though?”

  “Same thing he was probably doing at their office,” Brooke says.

  “Fine. What was he doing at their office? Why send a massive brute to search the offices of a couple of accountants you just bought?”

  “I have no idea,” Brooke says. “I can’t even see straight. The smell is messing with my vision. Is that possible?” she follows her sister around a collection of broken refrigerators. “What do we do now?”

  “We’ve got spectral activity at Raymond Steven’s building and a couple of thugs assigned to keep us out,” Avery summarizes.

  “We call your other boyfriend?”

  “No,” Avery says. “We go see Billy Z.”

  Billy Z is a tall black man who was a former reaper. He left the business years ago, but he still keeps his ears to the ground and is always hearing all sorts of interesting information.

  Billy runs a bar called, The Overnight Tomb. The Graves sister’s find him there.

  “You two look like death warmed over,” Billy says as the sisters grab seats at the bar. Billy raises a hand to his mouth and his face twists in disgust. The bartender’s dressed in a black polo and jeans. His face is awkwardly shaped, like someone tried to readjust it after the fact. “And you smell like garbage.”

  Brooke shrugs out of her jacket and drops it on the countertop. “That’s because we just spent the last hour in the city landfill.”

  Billy points over his shoulder. “You guys want to freshen up or something?”

  Avery looks at him. “Don’t say that like you know what it means.”

  “I know that the way you two are smelling right now, the health department is likely to come in and close me down,” Billy says.

  “Give us some water,” Avery says.

  “To drink or bathe in?”

  Brooke looks solemnly at Billy. “Are we laughing? Because it doesn’t feel like we are.”

  Billy fills two beer mugs with water and sets them in front of the sisters.

  “What have you heard about two dead accountants up at the Kirkland motel?” Avery asks him.

  Billy shrugs. “Nothing about them specifically.”

  Brooke takes a drink from her water and makes a face. “I hate water and what’s that supposed to mean?”

  “How the hell should I know? I’m not a psychologist,” Billy says. “Maybe you didn’t like taking baths as a kid? It certainly seems like a problem now.”

  “Hardy-har” Brooke says dryly. “What I meant was, what do you mean you haven’t heard anything about the accountants specifically?”

  “It’s not so much that I haven’t heard anything about them, as you’re the second group of people to come around asking for info on them,” Billy says.

  Brooke and Avery share a look.

  “Was the first group headed up by a guy with a concrete face and shoulders too wide for a doorway?” Brooke asks.

  “Nope,” Billy reaches under the counter and pulls out a business card. It’s black with raised purple lettering. “It was a guy from a new reaper organization.”

  They recognize the card immediately. Messor & Decessus.

  “Thin man, turns sideways and he disappears? Looks like his poop don’t stink?” Brooke asks.

  Billy nods. “That’s him.”

  Brooke looks at her sister. “I told you these guys were looking to poach.”

  “What was he asking about?” Avery ignores her sister.

  “Same thing you two are,” Billy says. “Although, he was leaning more on the third guy in the room.”

  “Larry Faraco,” Avery says.

  “That’s the name he dropped.”

  Brooke runs her hands through her hair. “I do not like this. Why are so many people involved with this? It should not be this complicated.”

  Avery levels her gaze on Billy. “What did you tell him, Billy?”

  Billy looks uncomfortable. “Look, you girls have always done solid by me and your father really came through for me back in the day, but I do not want to get in the middle of a reaper tug-of-war here.”

  “Billy,” Brooke says. “Don’t be like that.”

  “Be like what?” he asks. “I am not getting in the middle of anything. I’ve got a nice thing going on here.”

  Avery narrows her eyes “Did he threaten you?”

  Billy frowns, folding his arms. Muscles bulge under the sleeves “Did he threaten me?”

  “We don’t know what he did,” Brooke says, pointing to herself and Avery. “That’s why we’re asking you.” She points at him.

  Billy sighs and rubs his forehead. “Look, these guys aren’t some fly-by-the-night operation. You know they’ve been doing? Going around town, offering staff positions to other reapers.”

  “We’d heard rumor of that,” Avery says, thinking of Alan.

  He scratches his neck. “Staff positions. Can you believe that?” Billy shakes his head. “You know who does that? Big players. Last time I saw a player this big? Hell, I don’t even remember. Certainly not since the seventies.”

  Brooke shakes her head. “I have no idea where this is going.”

  “Obviously they didn’t out and out threaten you,” Avery says. “Did they offer you a job? Is that what happened?”

  Billy frowns. “Do I look like the kind of guy they’d offer a job? Please. I’m retired.”

  Billy falls silent and his gaze drifts from the sisters. “I ain’t getting in the middle of anything,” he says again.

  “We’re not asking you to,” Avery says.

  Billy sighs, running a hand over his bald head. “I’ll tell you the same thing I told him.”

  “That’s all we’re asking for,” Avery says.

  “There’s been a guy out at Victoria Park all day,” Billy says. “Last I heard he’s almost got about a hundred people out there. All he’s doing is talking about how he’s come back from the dead.”

  Brooke whistles.

  “And that’s what you told the guy from Messor & Decessus?” Avery asks.

  Billy nods. “Yep.”

  “How long ago was this?”

  He glances at the clock over the bar. “’Bout three hours.”

  Brooke and Avery share a look.

  “Victoria Park?” Avery repeats.

  Billy nods again.

  “And he’s still out there?”

  “Last I heard.”

  Victoria Park is a pleasant little place named after Victoria Sterns, a wealthy socialite who needed a tax write off at the last minute many years ago. The beautiful park was the result.

  Brooke and Avery stand at the edge of the park in the shade of the trees. There’s a man up on the outdoor amphitheater. He looks about thirty-five and is dressed in ratty jeans and a dirty red hoodie. The hoodie’s kept up, obscuring the back of his head.

  “People, listen to me!” he’s shouting to be heard across the crowd. His movements are very animated and enthusiasm is pouring out with every word. “I have been to the beyond and I have returned with a message!”

  “Wow,” Brooke says.

  “I know,” Avery agrees, leaning against the tree, arms folded. “He’s got a lot of energy for a dead guy.”

  “You’re telling me,” Brooke says. “The guy’s practically jumping up and down on the stage. I wish some of my dates had that much energy.”

  “Billy said he’s been here all day?” Avery says.

  “You were sitting right the
re,” Brooke replies.

  “I know,” Avery says. “I’m just saying, he’s been here all day doing this.”

  “Whatever this is,” Brooke eyes the crowd. “Lot of people here.”

  “I have been freed from the bonds of life!” he continues. “Freed from the oppressing shackles of living! And you can be, too!”

  Marcus Ibanez is making his way quickly up the stage, cutting the man off with a look.

  “Uh-oh,” Brooke says, pointing him out.

  “I see him,” Avery says. “This can’t be good.”

  Ibanez whispers something to the man on the stage and then points directly at the Graves sisters.

  “This is really not good,” Brooke says.

  And the man who was supposed to be dead takes off running.

  seventeen

  Brooke spits out a few of her favorite curse words as she races through the crowd.

  “Hey!”

  “Watch it!”

  “Lady, I’m gonna-!”

  People shout at her as she bumps and pushes them out of the way. She doesn’t bother with any witty replies.

  Brooke reaches the stage but Faraco’s already gone. Her cell rings.

  “Yeah?” she answers, climbing onto the stage. She looks out into the crowd. It’s a mixture of confusion and anger.

  “Do you see him?” Avery asks from the other end of the line.

  “No,” Brooke says, looking around the stage. “Not him or Suity-McSuit. Where the hell did he go?”

  Avery swears loudly.

  “What?” Brooke asks, looking toward the edge of the park.

  “I’ve got him,” Avery says. “He’s on the street.”

  Brooke spots her sister darting down the sidewalk. “I see you.”

  “Larry Faraco, don’t make me chase you!” Avery shouts, jumping over the garbage can. Her feet pound away on the sidewalk as she chases after the undead man.

  Faraco doesn’t waste time looking over his shoulder. He cuts down an alley.

  “Dammit!” Avery follows, pushing through a hand holding couple. She mumbles a quick, “Excuse me.”

  She skids into the alleyway, bumping against the wall.

  “Faraco!” she shouts again.

  The hooded man knocks over a pile of cardboard boxes and stumbles around the dumpster.

  “Faraco, if you don’t stop running right now, I swear that when I catch you I’m gonna shove my foot so far down your throat it’s gonna burst out your asshole,” Avery growls.

  The alleyway ends in a fence. Faraco doesn’t stop. He jumps on the fence, climbing over it. He drops down the other side. With the safety of the fence between them he spares a look behind him.

  Avery stops, propping herself against the wall with one hand to catch her breath. She points at Faraco. “Do not move.”

  Faraco’s eyes are wide, his expression frazzled and freaked. He doesn’t listen and takes off running again.

  “Damnit!” Avery swears and starts for the fence. She climbs over and drops down to the other side.

  She races to the end of the alley. It’s 39th Street and there’s no sign of Faraco.

  “Damnit!” she shouts, pounding her foot against the pavement. She pulls out her cellphone and hits the speed dial for Brooke. “I’m on Thirty-ninth Street,” she says as soon as Brooke answers. “And I lost him.”

  “What happened?” Brooke asks.

  “Apparently undead men don’t need to stop and catch their breath,” she looks both ways down the street. “I have no idea where he is.”

  “Damnit,” Brooke says on the other.

  “I am really pissed off here,” Avery kicks at the alley wall.

  “Hey,” Brooke says.

  “What?”

  “Ibanez is still over here.”

  Marcus Ibanez is sitting on a lawn chair in the shade, his legs crossed comfortably. “Ladies,” he greets the sisters. His eyes squint slightly. The sun’s directly behind the Graves sisters. “Can I help you with something?”

  “Yeah, what part of don’t poach our bounties did you not understand?” Brooke says, taking a threatening step forward.

  “I understood every part of it,” Ibanez says.

  “Clearly there’s a breakdown in communication,” Avery says, pulling her hair back into a ponytail. “Because from where we’re standing it looks like you found one of our bounties and then warned him to stay away from us. Which is odd, because, you know, that’s not typically how grim reapers behave, even when they’re poaching from other reapers.”

  “Then perhaps you should stand elsewhere?” Ibanez suggests.

  “We’re pretty comfortable where we’re standing,” Brooke says.

  Ibanez nods, getting to his feet. “I assume you’re concerned about Mr. Faraco.”

  “I think you can understand why,” Avery says.

  “Yes, well, I happened to be concerned about him, too,” Ibanez says.

  “Faraco’s a pretty lucky man,” Avery says. “to have all of us worrying about him.”

  “Isn’t he though?” Ibanez says.

  “What did you say to him?”

  Ibanez shrugs. “Nothing. I merely pointed out that there were individuals in the crowd that didn’t look kindly on him spreading the good word.”

  “The good word?” Brooke echoes.

  Ibanez offers another shrug. “To use his language.

  “What you’re doing is dangerously close to illegal,” Avery says.

  “Amazing thing about being dangerously close to something is that you haven’t actually crossed the line,” Ibanez replies.

  “That’s an interesting way of doing business,” Avery says.

  “These are interesting times we live in.” Ibanez straightens his tie. “As I’m sure you are already aware of, Mr. Faraco is in a very unique situation. We at Messor & Decessus want to help Mr. Faraco, not just worry about using him to fill our coffers.”

  Avery folds her arms. “I don’t think I like your definition of helping.”

  “That’s because you’re not willing to open your mind to all sorts of interesting possibilities,” Ibanez says. He pulls out a pair of sunglasses and smiles. “Be seeing you.”

  eighteen

  “Obviously, something has gone horribly wrong here,” Brooke says.

  They’re sitting on a bench outside Victoria Park. Faraco’s following dispersed after they realized their whackjob savior wasn’t coming back.

  “That’s an understatement,” Avery says, leaning forward. “What the hell happened?”

  “That’s what I’m saying,” Brooke shakes her head. “I feel like there’s this whole other thing going on and nobody’s told us. Plus, I still smell like garbage.”

  “That’s easily the worst part,” Avery agrees.

  “Bums are giving me disgusting looks,” Brooke says. “It’s supposed to be the other way around.”

  Avery taps her feet to an indifferent beat. “I’ll tell you one thing.”

  “Messor & Decessus have moved to the top of my hit list.”

  “The very top,” Avery says. “I’m gonna hold a place for them there until I get a chance to punch them all in the nuts.”

  “They are trying to steal Faraco out from under us,” Brooke says.

  “Its not that they’re just trying to steal him,” Avery says, sitting up. “If that was the case, he’d be through the Red Door at the Waiting Room by now.”

  “Then why’s he out here giving speeches about how he’s cheated death?”

  “Yeah, that’s what I’m wondering,” Avery says.

  They fall silent for a few minutes, thinking over the details.

  “You know what?” Avery asks, looking at her sister.

  “We’ve got to see those bodies?” Brooke says.

  “We’ve got to see those bodies,” Avery agrees.

  “Jackson’s not going to like it.”

  “Nope. He certainly isn’t.”

  “And that thing with the dead guy only happened
once,” Brooke says. “It wasn’t that big of a deal,” Brooke waves off the concern. “Whatever. Jackson can go suck a mole.”

  Avery pauses. “What the hell does that mean?”

  Brooke shrugs. “I’m not sure. I heard a kid saying it on the subway the other day.”

  “Don’t ever say it again.”

  Brooke sniffs her armpit. “Do you think we can shower first?”

  “You want to shower before we go see the dead men?”

  Brooke nods. “You’re right. We might get dead people cooties, best to shower after."

  A shadow falls across them.

  “Hello, luv.”

  They look up to find Stanley Morris standing over them.

  “How’d you ladies like to earn some easy money?” he asks them.

  nineteen

  Gentle Gardens is a nursing home community located across town. It has a collection of quaint single-family homes and pastel colored condos for the elderly to live out their remaining golden years.

  “So here’s the situation,” Stanley says. He’s wearing a poorly fitted blue polo and cheap gold chains on his wrists. “I moved me mum in about a week ago.”

  It’s twenty minutes later and they’re standing outside, across from the front gates to the community.

  “You have a mother?” Avery asks.

  Stanley looks at her. “Wot’ did you fink?”

  Avery shrugged. “Considering you’re the scum of the Earth, I just figured you were hatched.”

  That gets Stanley worked up. “Now listen here-”

  Brooke cuts him off as she steps between them. “Okay, maybe I’ll talk to Stanley.”

  “That’s probably a good idea,” Avery says, folding her arms.

  “Sounds like a pleasant time to me, luv.” Stanley grins, wrapping his arm around her.

  Brooke turns on him, peeling his arm off of her and pushing him back. “You dumped your mother in an old person’s home?”

  “Wot’ you expect me to do?” Stanley glares at her, throwing his hands up.

  “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe be a human being?” Brooke suggests.