Death & Stilettos

by Jason Krumbine

  “We took some pills…” Cindy says, her voice trailing off.

  Avery rests her hand atop theirs. “And what happened after that?”

  Avery feels Brian tighten his grip on Cindy.

  Cindy speaks slowly. “We know we were supposed to move on. But…” she starts to choke up.

  Brian picks up the slack.

  “We loved each other so much,” he explains. “We just wanted to be together forever. But I’ve done some bad things in my life. Really bad things. And we were afraid,” he looks at Cindy. “What if we didn’t end up in the same place together?”

  Avery’s heart breaks a little at that, listening to the couple. All they wanted was to be together. And when you’re in love, what else could you want? She waits a moment before speaking. “Brian, Cindy, do you know who I am?”

  Brian nods. “I-I think so.”

  “You can’t stay here,” Avery explains. “Your time has come to an end and you need to move on.”

  “But,” Cindy starts, her eyes watering.

  “No,” Brian says, taking a deep breath. “She’s right. We can’t stay here. This isn’t our place anymore.”

  Avery pauses, watching them for a minute.

  “What comes next,” she says, “isn’t something you should worry about. Two people who love each other as much as you two do, will never be able to be kept apart.”

  It’s a lie, of course. But the couple doesn’t know that and it does the trick. Avery’s words cause them to brighten a bit. A small smile tugs at Cindy’s lips as she wipes away her tears. The couple embrace each other. Avery thinks to herself that there’s nothing wrong with a tiny lie in order to give them some final peace before they move on.

  With that, Avery slips the cuffs on the dead couple.

  twenty-seven

  Its hours later.

  Brian and Cindy have been sent off to the afterlife, their fates left to higher powers. Brooke and Avery have their bounty and the day’s adventures have come to an end.

  Outside Brooke’s studio apartment the rain’s lessened. The clouds are still dark, but there’s no longer any sense of the apocalyptic as Brooke dries her hair. A dark blue towel is wrapped around her naked body as she steps out of the bathroom. She twists a second blue towel into her wet hair. The small apartment is filled with the steam from her forty-five minute shower. Despite getting soaked to the bone earlier, the first thing Brooke did as she soon as she got home was hop into the shower and wash off all the icky rainwater.

  Brooke checks her phone, but there’s no message from Steven the bartender yet. Tossing the phone back on her bed she walks over to her tiny closet.

  “Okay,” she says to herself. “What’s a good outfit to get laid in?”

  She starts thumbing through her hangers.

  There’s a heavy knock on her door. Brooke glances at the time, but it’s still a good hour before she’s supposed to hear from Steven the bartender.

  Making sure the towel around her body is secure, she opens the door.

  Stanley’s leaning against the wall, half bent over. His face is covered in fresh bruises and blood. The tacky polo shirt he’s wearing is torn up and his kakis are smudged with more blood and dirt.

  Brooke stares at him, speechless.

  “’Ello, luv,” Stanley says weakly. He offers Brooke a crooked smile and then falls into her arms.

  twenty-eight

  Doctor Kevin Soong is the last one to leave for the night. He’s in his office putting away a few files. The desk lamp is the only source of light in the office. He hears something out in the hallway.

  “Hello?” he calls. “Shannon, are you still here?”

  There’s no answer.

  Soong shrugs his shoulders and turns back to his file cabinets.

  “Doctor Soong,” Avery says from the office doorway.

  Soong jumps a little, dropping the folder in his hands. He turns and sees Avery. He squints a bit and then recognition spreads across his face.

  “Ms…Graves, wasn’t it?” Soong composes himself. “You startled me there. I’m afraid it’s a little late,” he picks up the dropped folder.

  “Don’t worry,” Avery says, stepping into the office. She’s still wearing the same clothes from earlier. They’re a little less soaked, not quite uncomfortably wet, but just wet enough to be annoying. She brushes her hair back. “I’ll only be a minute.”

  Soong picks up his folder. “This is a bit unprofessional, Ms. Graves. How did you even get in here?”

  “Your secretary left the door unlocked,” Avery answers simply. “My turn.”

  Soong pauses, giving Avery a questioning look. “I beg your pardon?”

  “You asked a question, now it’s my turn,” Avery explains.

  Soong shakes his head. “I think not, Ms. Graves. You should leave now. If you’d like you can schedule something through my secretary and I’ll talk to you then,” he turns back to the file cabinet.

  “Why’d you lie about Kristen Jones?” Avery asks him.

  Soong doesn’t hesitate. “It wasn’t a lie, Ms. Graves. She worked for me five years ago. You can’t expect me to remember a secretary from five years ago that I probably said less than five words to.”

  “Funny,” Avery says, leaning against one of the chairs in front of the desk. “If it was me, I would have remembered a girl I was dating five years ago who was half my age,” she takes a breath. “But, then, that’s me. Is memory the first to go as you get older?”

  This time Soong does hesitate. He puts the folder down and slowly turns around.

  Soong’s posture changes slightly, becoming more rigid. “Ms. Graves,” he starts.

  Avery cuts him off, raising her hand. “Don’t bother lying to me.”

  Soong holds out his hands in the universal gesture of peace. “I’m not lying to you.”

  “We spoke with Mr. Jones’ widow, Kristen’s stepmom, and your patient, Shelly Jones,” Avery says. “Maybe you want to reconsider what you’re going to say next.”

  Soong does. He takes a long moment.

  Finally, Soong steps behind his desk and sits down.

  “Fine,” he says. His voice is flat, almost monotone. “Kristen and I were,” he pauses, searching for the right words, “romantically involved five years ago. What of it?”

  “Where is she now?” Avery asks.

  Soong shrugs. “How should I know? Her father did not approve of our relationship so she ended it. I never heard from her again.”

  Avery watches him. She shakes her head. “No, that’s not it.”

  Soong sighs. “You can’t go around, making up stories until you find one you’re satisfied with.”

  “No, but I can keep poking at things until I get the truth,” Avery says. “So let’s cut the crap.”

  “Does that mean you’ll end this ridiculousness?”

  “Kristen’s dead,” Avery says it as bluntly as she can.

  Soong hesitates again.

  “What happened five years ago?” Avery asks.

  “That, is none of your business,” Soong replies.

  “You don’t seem very upset over her death,” Avery comments.

  “It’s been five years, Ms. Graves,” he says. “Are you upset when you discover a high school sweetheart got married?”

  “It’s a little different.”

  Soon shrugs. “Maybe for you.” His gaze focuses on the desk lamp for a moment. “Why do you think she’s dead?”

  “My sister and I aren’t private investigators,” Avery says. “We’re grim reapers.”

  Soong suddenly tenses.

  Avery smiles, but it’s humorless. “Don’t worry. It’s not quite as damning as you’re afraid it’s going to be. My sister and I have been running around for the last forty-eight hours trying to figure out what happened to Kristen. I finally gave in to the obvious and made a few well-placed phone calls before coming here.” She pauses. “I’m sure you’ve heard of grim reapers, but you didn’t know we were real, that’s
not unusual. Typically we’re only called upon when a soul has refused or is unable to move on. There was no record of a grim reaper called out for Kristen Jones.”

  Soong visibly relaxes.

  “But that doesn’t mean much of anything,” Avery continues. “All it really says is that Kristen didn’t have any trouble letting go.”

  Soong twitches. “None of this explains why you’re here, talking to me.”

  “Process of elimination,” Avery explains. “And since you were most likely one of the last people to see her alive I thought you might have some insight into what happened.”

  Soong gaze flicks away from the lamp to Avery. “I doubt that very much.”

  “You seem to doubt a lot of what I’m saying,” Avery observes.

  “I wonder why that is?” Soong muses.

  “Maybe it’s because you’re the one who killed her,” Avery says.

  There’s silence as the two stare each other down.

  “Funny,” Avery speaks first. “That, you didn’t doubt.”

  Soong’s gaze darkens. “Get the hell out of my office before I call the cops.”

  Avery pulls out some photocopied papers from her jacket. “Interesting that you should bring up the cops. I happen to know one. A cop, that is. He’s a homicide detective and he likes to do favors for me every now and then,” she tosses the papers on the desk. “Seems there’s a sealed file on Kristen. There was someone she was dating before she turned eighteen. Someone who was fond of striking her and finally struck her one too many times. She filed a police report, but there’s no assailant’s name on the report. I’m guessing someone scared her at the last minute.”

  Soong doesn’t look at the papers.

  “How long did you and Kristen date, Doctor?” Avery asks.

  Soong doesn’t answer.

  Avery nods. “My father always used to think that a lack of an answer was almost as damning as an answer itself.”

  “You bastard,” Soong whispers.

  “Funny,” Avery replies, “I was gonna say the same thing.”

  Again, Soong doesn’t speak.

  “I’ve got two separate people looking into the Jane Does that were reported dead five years ago,” Avery says. “I’m sure between the two of them we’ll find a body that matches Kristen and from there, it won’t take long for the police to make their way back to you.”

  Soong doesn’t say anything at first. When he does speak it’s barely above a whisper.

  “Kristen was pregnant,” he says. “I asked her to get an abortion, but she insisted on keeping the baby.”

  He doesn’t say anything else.

  Avery shivers slightly.

  “That’s cold, even for somebody like you,” Avery says. Soong looks different to her now. More dark, more sinister.

  Soong sighs. “You don’t understand.”

  “Of course I don’t,” Avery agrees. “And good for that.” She rubs her eyes. “Daniel Jones had a lot of regrets when he died, but none worse than how his relationship with his daughter ended. Before he moved on he wanted to say good-bye to his daughter and try to make some kind of amends,” Avery pauses. “I really wanted to help him. Hopefully they both ended up in the same place.”

  Soong stares dumbly at her.

  “I don’t understand,” he says.

  “You wouldn’t. You’re a dirt bag,” Avery explains. “It’s as simple as that.”

  Avery turns and leaves.

  Fifteen minutes later there’s a half a dozen cop cars outside the building. Three different news networks are on scene as the neighborhood’s favorite family doctor is hauled away in handcuffs.

  twenty-nine

  Stanley winces as Brooke dabs his cuts with alcohol. "That stings like hell, luv."

  "What happened?" Brooke asks.

  They're on her bed. Brooke's changed into a light blue tank tap and a pair of pink boy shorts panties. Her damp hair is haphazardly held up with a large clip. She sits next to Stanley with her legs crisscrossed Indian-style. Stanley's bare-chested, half sitting up on the bed. Most of the blood has been washed off and his skin is already bruising.

  "Wot happened," Stanley says slowly, "is that Dicky Ramburg decided that he was not happy with me backing out of last night's deal."

  Brooke frowns. "Is this my fault?"

  Stanley starts to shake his head, but then thinks better of it. "Not at all, luv. I was the one that asked you to check the head out." He tries to sit up all the way. "It's me own fault for thinking Dicky wouldn't make a thing out of it."

  She puts her hands on his shoulders, stopping him from sitting up any further. "What are you doing?"

  "Trying not to look too much like a bloody invalid," Stanley answers.

  "Too late." Brooke tosses the wet rag she was using. "Whose head were you looking for?"

  Stanley smiles again. "Oh, yor not going ta get that out of me that easily."

  "Is it worth getting the crap beaten out of you like this?" Brooke asks him somberly.

  "Absolutely," Stanley replies. "I'm looking at a million dollar payday if I find the right bloody skull."

  Brooke's ears perk up. "A million dollars?"

  "That's right and I'm not looking to share it with anyone," Stanley tells her firmly.

  "What about Dicky?"

  "Dicky doesn't know squat," Stanley says. "And if he did he wouldn’t care, the fat bastard hates dealing with anything over a quarter of million dollars. Apparently, he thinks it's never worth the risk."

  Brooke leans back and gives Stanley a once over. "He might be on to something."

  Stanley waves the thought off. "Anyway, Dicky's goons caught me on my way out and worked me over good and proper."

  "Did they ask about me?"

  "Yes, but strangely enough, I forgot all about you whilst they beat the shit out of me," Stanley replies.

  Brooke smiles. "That's oddly sweet."

  Stanley returns the smile. "That's just the kind of fellow I am, luv." Stanley glances around the apartment. "I hope I'm not keeping you from anything..."

  Brooke glances briefly at her phone, but it hasn't rung since Stanley arrived. "Right now, nothing's more important than taking care of you.” There’s a strong sincere tone in her voice.

  "Well, I appreciate the thought, luv," Stanley starts to get up. "But yor not my nurse and it wasn't really proper of me to drop myself on yor doorstop like this."

  Brooke gently pushes him back down on the bed. "Stop. You're here now. Besides, I doubt you could make it ten feet out that door."

  "I am a little impressed that I made it up the stairs," Stanley says.

  She presses gingerly on his ribs and Stanley winces. "I just hope nothing's broken."

  "I've had broken bones before, luv," Stanley assures her. "None of them are broken tonight."

  Brooke gets up from the bed. "So, I'm thinking takeout? How does pizza sound?"

  Stanley grabs her arm before she gets too far and pulls her back to the bed.

  "Hey," she says.

  "I owe you a proper thank you," he says. "That's twice yo've helped me, luv."

  Brooke shrugs it off. "You can just take if off my tab."

  Stanley raises an eyebrow. "I'd wipe out that debt for you, you know."

  "I do," she says, pulling his hand off her arm. "But that wouldn't be fair for the rest of your clients."

  "The rest of my clients aren't nearly as pretty as you."

  Brooke takes a deep breath as she feels her hormones going out of control. "We need to stop this."

  "We haven't started anything."

  "You know what I mean."

  His fingers graze her bare thighs, lightly tickling her. She grabs his hand tightly.

  "Stop," she says.

  Stanley stops.

  “Avery asked about last night,” Brooke says.

  Stanley raises an eyebrow. “Wot do you mean?”

  “I mean, somehow my sister knows I hooked up with you last night,” Brooke replies. “And I lied to
her when she asked me about it.”

  Stanley doesn’t say anything.

  “That might not seem like much to you,” Brooke continues. “But while my sister and I might not agree on a lot, I try really hard to not outright lie to her.”

  “Nobody said you had to,” Stanley replies.

  Brooke sighs. “No, no they didn’t. It’s just,” she pauses. “We’re just so complicated.”

  “Ta be fair,” Stanley says. “It was always pretty simple in my eyes. Yor the one that never sees things as clearly.”

  Brooke doesn’t reply.

  He's not much to look at. His chest is scrawny and pale. What he lacks in physical appearance, Brooke decided long ago that he made up for it in charisma and something else that she just couldn’t define.

  As though she’s dared herself, Brooke climbs on top of him.

  “Luv,” Stanley starts. “Brooke…”

  She silences him with a finger against his lips.

  They're separated by her panties and his jeans, but that doesn't stop the spark between them. Brooke places her hands on his chest and slowly grinds her hips against him.

  It’s just a test, is all she tells herself. Just a test to show herself she can do it without really doing it.

  Stanley moans a little, closing his eyes. He lets his headrest against the headboard.

  Brooke feels him stiffen beneath her. It feels empowering.

  Just a test, she says to herself again. She can stop whenever she wants to.

  His hands make their way to her hips, squeezing her gently.

  She leans forward and gently kisses him on the lips. He tastes vaguely of peppermint.

  And then she realizes that she never had a chance and Brooke gives in completely.

  It takes only a few seconds to peel off her underwear and his pants quickly join her panties on the floor.

  Brooke's back on top of him, holding him in her hands. She hesitates, reason briefly piercing her lust-clouded mind. "Are you sure you're up to this?"

  Stanley smiles. "I told ya none of my bones were broken, luv."