Death & Stilettos

by Jason Krumbine

  Brooke moans again, twitching her hips upward into his mouth.

  "Okay, I'm feeling really uncomfortable here," Avery says from the phone.

  "Then maybe you, uhhh, should have stopped, ahhhh, calling," Brooke replies, her breath quickening. She closes her eyes again and lets her head rest back against the soft pillow.

  Stanley begins to hum a soft little ditty. She starts to giggle, but cuts herself off as the vibrations rock against her just right.

  "Oh, yeeesss," Brooke moans quietly as she twists on the bed.

  "What?" Avery asks.

  "Nothing," Brooke quickly says. "Nothing. I'll be, ahhh, right out."

  "Really?"

  "Uhh..." Brooke moans again. "Really."

  "Because I'm in your apartment right now," Avery replies. "And considering it's a one bedroom, there's not a lot of places for you to be hiding and moaning right now."

  Brooke swears suddenly.

  Stanley stops and looks up at her, alarmed. She shakes her head, wiping at the sweat on forehead. "Keep going," she mouths.

  "What was that?" Avery asks.

  "Nothing," Brooke replies.

  "Are you going to tell me where you are?" Avery asks.

  "Do I, ahhh," Brooke cuts herself off as Stanley's tongue returns to her sweet spot. He picks up right where he left off, not missing a beat. Brooke’s thighs quake as the pleasurable sensations begin to assault her body..

  "Brooke?" Avery asks. "Are you still there?"

  "Ahhh...yes, I'm still here," she breathes.

  Brooke's really close now. She feels her body slowly winding up. It starts as a slow tingle. That tingle spreads through her, gathering momentum and turning into a wave. Stanley’s hand settles back around her left breast, gently squeezing it.

  It’s too much.

  "Brooke," Avery says again. "Where are you?"

  Brooke's mind is clouded with raw lust and desire at this point. All she really cares about is getting Avery off the phone and getting off herself.

  "I’ll, ahhhh...just meet me at the office," Brooke moans, bucking her hips sharply. "Twenty minutes." A tiny burst radiates through her suddenly, making her toes curl. She quickly adds, "Better make that forty. Gottagobye." Brooke quickly hangs up and tosses the phone across the room.

  "I gotta stop answering the phone," she mutters.

  Stanley grunts in agreement from between her legs, rolling her hard nipple around his fingers.

  The tiny vibration from his grunt is all that it takes. Brooke grips his shaved head tightly and rides his tongue all the way across the finish line in a burst of writhing pleasure.

  thirteen

  The Graves sister’s office is located over a 24 Hour Chinese Restaurant. It was originally their father’s office. Now it’s theirs. It’s small, but still large enough to have a hardly used kitchenette and two rooms in addition to the front room where the desk is. The office isn’t as clean as when their father operated out of it, but back then their mother also helped out. These days Emma Graves stays far away from the family business.

  Avery’s perched on the edge of the desk, flipping through a heavy leather bound book. She's dressed in jeans and a white t-shirt with a giant pair of ruby red lips emblazoned across her breasts. Memories of the night before have been pushed back to the dark recesses of her mind. Denial is her method of coping. It’s worked so far.

  “When I asked you and your sister to look into this, I expected you to actually look into it.”

  Avery looks up in surprise. She didn’t hear the door open.

  Emma Graves is standing in there, dressed in a dark, conservative pantsuit.

  “Hi, Mom,” Avery says, closing the book.

  “What exactly did you do last night?” Emma asks, peeking around at the kitchenette. She wrinkles her nose disapprovingly at the layer of dust covering the counters.

  “Well, we didn’t go to Lori’s if that’s what you’re asking,” Avery says.

  “That’s exactly what I’m asking.”

  “Then we’re on the same page,” Avery replies. “Why are you wearing that?” She points to her mother’s pantsuit.

  “I’m here to question you,” Emma says. “Not the other way around.”

  Avery rolls her eyes, sliding off the desk. “We went to Lori’s house yesterday afternoon.”

  “The haunting occurs mostly after dark,” Emma points out.

  “That’s why we went in the afternoon,” Avery says.

  “Lori is very distressed,” Emma starts.

  “I’m sure she is, Mom.”

  “And it doesn’t help that she’s given you her money and you haven’t done anything yet,” Emma finishes.

  “Wow.” Avery shakes her head “That’s nice. Thank you, Mom.”

  Emma frowns. “It wasn’t a compliment.”

  “I was being sarcastic,” Avery says. “It’s only been twenty-four hours. I’m not going to do anything without poking around first.”

  Emma clears her throat. “Lori went back to her house last night.”

  Avery throws her hands up. “Why would she do that?”

  “Because it’s her home,” Emma replies.

  “Yeah, her haunted home.”

  “Regardless,” Emma continues. “She couldn’t get in.”

  Avery raises an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

  “All of the doors were locked,” Emma says.

  “Doesn’t she have more than one key?”

  “Yes, but the key didn’t work,” Emma pauses. “Lori described it as though someone had changed her locks.”

  “We didn’t change the locks when we went by yesterday.”

  Emma raises a bemused eyebrow. “The thought never crossed my mind.”

  “The locks wouldn’t work with her key.” Avery chews the inside of her cheek for a moment, thinking it over for a moment. “That’s interesting.”

  “I’m glad you find it interesting,” Emma says, making no attempt to hide her disapproval of her daughter’s methods.

  “Okay, well, don’t take this the wrong way, Mom,” Aver says. But menopause isn’t actually doing your personality any favors.”

  “You know, I used to think only your sister inherited your father’s lack of tack,” Emma says.

  “I like to think that we have that kind of relationships where we can talk about anything,” Avery replies, ignoring the dig. “Speaking of inheriting things from Dad. Brooke and I learned all about the Veto Council the other day.”

  Emma simply frowns.

  Avery looks at her mother with disappointment. “Do I have to actually ask you about it?”

  “There’s nothing to ask about,” Emma replies. “It was your father’s responsibility and he didn’t want his daughters burdened with it.”

  “I’m pretty sure that’s not how it works,” Avery says.

  “It was mostly a politically position,” Emma explains. “Your father accepted it because he thought he could make a difference. It was never his intention that his position be passed down to you and Brooke.”

  “But that’s how it works, isn’t it? If a Veto Council member has a child that’s a reaper, the position gets passed down.”

  “It wasn’t supposed to be,” Emma says.

  Avery waits for more, but Emma doesn’t offer any.

  “That’s it?” Avery asks.

  Emma shrugs. “What did you expect?”

  “I expected an explanation, not hazy half answers.”

  “Unfortunately that’s all I have to offer you.” Emma makes a show of looking around the front room. “Where’s your sister?”

  Avery doesn’t answer right away. She’s frustrated with her mother, but she puts it on the back burner for now.

  “Good.” Emma visibly relaxes.

  “Good?”

  “I wanted to talk to you about this young man I’ve found for her.”

  Avery holds up her hands, stopping her mother. “No.”

  “What?”

  “No,” Avery repe
ats firmly. “Absolutely not. I do not want to know anything about this.”

  Emma ignores her. “He’s a pleasant young man. He goes to church regularly, is very involved with his local community and he’s an accountant.”

  Avery laughs. “Okay, well, you don’t know your youngest daughter all that well.”

  “He also runs his own accounting firm,” Emma continues.

  “La-la-la.” Avery sticks her fingers into her ears.

  “And he’s the son of Bridget D’Angelo.”

  Avery stops making random noises and pulls her fingers from her ears. “He’s who now?”

  Emma smiles in that self-satisfactory way that all mothers do. “You heard me.”

  “Bobby D’Angelo?” Avery can’t even believe she’s saying the name. “You want to set Brooke up with Bobby Freaking D’Angelo.”

  “He recently became available,” Emma says.

  “And he’s still available? Because in high school, Bobby’s availability lasted the length of time it took him to walk from Math to Home Ec.”

  “Avery, you’re not in high school anymore,” Emma gently chastises her.

  Avery pauses, taking a moment to collect her thoughts. “How can I put this best to you, Mom? Bobby D’Angelo was a god among man.”

  “Don’t say that. It’s not appropriate.”

  “Absolutely drop dead gorgeous,” Avery continues. “His cheekbones alone...” She shakes her head. “I can’t even talk about his cheekbones. He actually had a waiting list of girls that wanted to date him.”

  “As I already said, this isn’t high school anymore.” Emma checks the time.

  “And you want to set Brooke up with Bobby D’Angelo?”

  Emma sighs. “I have to go. I have an appointment to keep. Please take care of Lori’s situation and, perhaps, pave the way for your sister’s eventual marriage to Bobby D’Angelo.”

  Avery watches her mother leave in stunned silence.

  “Eventual marriage?”

  fourteen

  Brooke’s pulls her knotted hair back into a ponytail as she exits the apartment building. Dressed in the same faded jeans and tank top from the night before she’s perfectly prepared to do her walk of shame to the bus stop.

  Her walk of shame turns into a moment of instantaneous shame as notices her older sister across the street immediately.

  Brooke curses under her breath.

  Avery’s leaning against the pink sedan, arms folded. She shakes her head as Brooke crosses the street.

  “Wow. This is, by far, one of your least proudest moments. Maybe even your number one least proudest moment,” Avery says. “And, yes, I’m including the time you hit on the dead guy.”

  “I don't know what you're talking about,” Brooke replies, avoiding her sister’s gaze. She walks around to the passenger side of the car.

  “You don’t know what I’m talking about? Really?” Avery points back to the apartment building. “That’s Stanley’s apartment right there. Come on.”

  “And...?” Brooke asks.

  “Really?” Avery looks at her from across the roof of the car. “That’s how you’re going to play this?”

  “I’m not playing anything,” Brooke says less than confidently.

  “Brooke, I just saw you walk out of Stanley Morris’ apartment building,” Avery says.

  “That doesn’t mean anything.”

  “Is that so?”

  “There’s, like, thirty apartments in there.” Brooke nods at the building.

  “So, what you’re saying is, you just happened to go home with a guy that lives in the same apartment building as your ex-boyfriend?” Avery asks.

  Brooke’s scratches her ear. “It’s possible.” Her voice squeaks a little.

  “I’m not saying that it isn’t,” Avery replies. “Law of averages says you’d get around to sleeping with somebody else in that building anyway. I’m just saying that we both know that’s not what happened.”

  Brooke fumes for a few seconds. She gives Avery a dirty look. “I told I’d meet you at the office,” she hisses.

  Avery frowns. “Don’t hiss like that. It’s not very ladylike. And, yeah, you said that you’d meet me at the office over an hour ago,” Avery replies.

  “You could have waited.”

  “And miss this?” Avery asks. “No, I think I made the right call.”

  Brooke shakes her head and gets into the car. “Last time I checked, I wasn’t answerable to you.”

  “That sounds awfully guilty if you ask me,” Avery says, sliding behind the wheel. “Are you feeling guilty about something?”

  “I’m sorry, what am I supposed to be feeling guilty over?”

  “For starters, answering the phone the way you did,” Avery replies, pulling out into traffic.

  “I want to introduce you to a fabulous concept,” Brooke says. “It’s called voicemail.”

  “Please tell me the last time you checked your voicemail.” She looks at her sister. “Please. I really want to know.”

  “I check it all the time,” Brooke says.

  Avery reaches over and yanks out Brooke’s cellphone.

  “Hey,” Brooke starts.

  Avery swats away her sister’s hands and quickly pulls up her voicemail account. “You have unheard voicemails in here from over a year ago.”

  Brooke snatches her phone back. “My point is,” she says. “You could have just waited for me to call you back. Or you could have just waited at the office. Like a normal person.”

  Avery sighs. “You’re right. I’m being too hard on you.”

  Brooke’s surprised. “You are?”

  “Yeah. I mean, it can’t be easy to pay attention to the time when you’re getting sexed up by your ex-boyfriend.”

  Brooke rolls her eyes. “You say it so sarcastically, but there’s an element of truth there.”

  “Clearly there is.”

  “How did you even know I was here,” Brooke asks suddenly.

  “Sister sense,” Avery answers.

  “Sister sense?”

  “Sister sense.”

  Brooke squints at her sister, studying her face. “I call bullcrap.”

  “You can call it whatever you want,” Avery says. “But it works.”

  Brooke’s face sours. “I feel so violated.”

  “That must be pretty violated,” Avery says. “Considering what you probably let Stanley do to you last night.”

  “Hardy-har-har.”

  fifteen

  “Don’t eat that,” Avery says.

  Brooke stops in mid-grab, her hand hovering over the plate of donuts. “Why?”

  “Because they’re not yours,” Avery says. “I can’t believe you actually asked me that.”

  “It’s not like he’s going to notice,” Brooke says.

  “It doesn’t matter,” Avery points to the chair next to her. “Sit your butt back down.”

  “Geez,” Brooke mutters, sitting next her sister. She eyes the donuts. “You don’t have to treat me like a child.”

  “I do as long as you act like one,” Avery says.

  They’re sitting in Homicide Detective David Jackson’s cramped office. In addition to a plate of donuts on the desk there’s also piles of open cases that Jackson’s currently working. The fluorescent light over their heads flickers every five minutes. They’ve been waiting for Jackson for two sets of flickers.

  “So we’re just going to ignore the elephant in the room?” Avery asks, picking at something under her nail.

  Brooke keeps her gaze locked on the donuts as if they were going to sprout wings and fly away in a fit of taunting laughter. “There’s an elephant in the room?”

  “A huge elephant,” Avery says. “It’s covered in cheap cologne and cheaper gold chains.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “You don’t see it?”

  “I don’t see it,” Brooke admits.

  “That’s funny,” Avery replies. “Considering you’re sleeping with the elephant.
>
  “Okay, are we doing some kind bestiality bit?”

  “You’re back together with Stanley,” Avery says. “Note how I’m not asking you, I’m telling you.”

  “Is Stanley is supposed to be the elephant?”

  “Stanley is definitely the elephant.”

  Brooke pauses, looking fondly at the plate of donuts. “Why don’t we ever say ‘Hung like an elephant’? Elephants are larger than horses, right? So, they should have bigger dicks?”

  “Usually you only say that if the man has a massively oversized penis,” Avery says.

  “One, it’s interesting you would know that,” Brooke says. “Two, please stop calling it a ‘penis.’ It sounds so, clinical and vaguely disgusting. And three, because I know you’re wondering, Stanley is not hung like an elephant.”

  “I was not wondering.”

  “I’m trying to think if I’ve been with a man that big,” Brooke says. “I mean, what counts as ‘massively oversized’?”

  “When were you planning on telling me?” Avery asks her.

  “As soon as I figure it out myself,” Brooke replies. “Did you not just hear me two seconds ago?”

  “I meant, when were you going to tell me that you were back together with Stanley?” Avery clarifies.

  “Oh, that.”

  “Yeah, that.”

  “Well, I wasn’t.”

  “You weren’t?”

  “That’s what I said,” Brooke replies.

  When there’s no response from Avery Brooke tears her gaze away from the donuts to find her sister giving her a world class disapproving look.

  “What?” Brooke asks.

  “Is this what we’re doing now?” Avery asks. “Keeping secrets from each other?”

  Brooke shrugs. “I thought I’d try it out and see how it goes.”

  “And how’s it going?”

  Brooke shakes her head. “I thought it would go better.”

  “Brooke,” Avery starts.

  She cuts her off. “Oh, no. Do not say what you’re going to say.”

  “You don’t know what I’m going to say!”

  “You know that sister sense you like to brag about?” Brooke asks. “It works both ways.”

  “I don’t understand it,” Avery mutters. “The man’s a sleazebag.”