Sabrina stopped spying on Fenton for a moment to stare at me. “Do you have any idea the amount of paperwork that would entail? That would never happen.”
“Are you sure?” I dodged a gaggle of giggling schoolgirls trying to pass for adults.
“Positive. It doesn’t work like that, and why can I still not see who Fenton is talking to?” Sabrina was bobbing up and down like a chicken.
“Then why would he lie?”
“Why would who lie?” Oz had accessorised his usual flip-flops, shorts and t-shirt combo with a frown. His arms folded over his chest served to accentuate his broad shoulders and strong arms, which I in no way noticed since probably looking too hard would be illegal as well. “You know you two have caused uproar in your GA group?”
“Because of our recreation of the scene from The Fly?” Sabrina asked.
“And because you didn’t go back inside the fort like Eleanor directed you.” Oz looked pointedly around us. “I know you must have lost your way somehow because you wouldn’t have used the opportunity to go drinking.”
“I would’ve if I’d realised that was an option at the time,” I said.
Oz tapped his chest. “Parole officer.”
“You are?” I gasped. “No way. I totally had no idea.”
Oz turned to Sabrina. “Does she give you this attitude?”
“No, but then I don’t lock her in her room and call her fat.”
“And now I understand why you two are friends.” He rubbed a hand over his short hair then extended one out to each of us. “Let’s get you back so Eleanor can calm your group down.”
Sabrina and I exchanged a glance, both of us stepping back. “Actually, we were just going to walk. The fresh air will be good for us.”
Oz sighed, gripped both of us on the shoulder and tunnelled us. In all fairness he was very gentle, but that didn’t prevent the scathing look Sabrina treated him to when we arrived in the centre of the fort to the intense level of chaotic chatter.
“Hey. I thought the fort was blocked to tunnelling?” Sabrina asked Oz.
Oz nodded. “To you two, it will be.”
Sabrina opened her mouth to say something but when Oz arched an eyebrow at her she pressed her lips together and shook her head instead.
After Sabrina and I were cross-examined by several group members simultaneously, Oz finally tunnelled me home.
“Ah-ah.” He grabbed my elbow before I could run up the stairs and lock him out of my room. “Who was lying? And where were you tunnelling to?”
“Oh, come on. For once, give me a break.”
“Right back at you. My job is to keep you safe, and I’m pretty sure you’re hip deep in some sort of trouble. So talk to me.”
“I’m not in any sort of trouble. If I was, you’d know, right? With your intrusive emotional bond.”
“Okay.” Oz placed a Chanel bronzer and kabuki brush on the patio table. “Answer both questions and these are yours.”
“Fenton and the first place I thought of.” I snatched for them but Oz was quicker.
“That’s all it takes for you to be honest with me?”
“I’m shallow.” I held out my hands. “My rewards, please.”
“Where was the first place you thought of?”
“That’s another question not covered by our previous agreement. What else have you got in those shorts for me?”
Oz arched an eyebrow at me. “What else do I have for you in my shorts?”
“I meant, in your pockets, from my list of demands.”
“Of course.” He kept a straight face but his eyes betrayed his amusement.
“Fine.” I held out my hands. “My bronzer, please?”
“Don’t these buy me any good will at all? And you didn’t really answer the second question.”
“I did. It just wasn’t the answer you wanted. If you required a specific location you should’ve stated that. You didn’t.” I nodded to the products again. To my surprise he handed them over. “Thank you.” I turned and walked towards the kitchen door. “Do you plan on locking me in my room again tonight?”
“Now you know I can feed your demands I feel safe in my bed.”
Pressing my bounty to my chest, I headed up to my room.
“Another emergency?” Lucy, the flapper, was adjusting my once again white suit jacket, admiring herself in the wardrobe mirror as I walked in.
“Don’t be snarky,” Petal mumbled from a comfortable position on my bed.
Pam noticed me staring at my stain-free white suit. “We got it cleaned for you.”
“It was in my locker.”
“We’re resourceful.” Lucy shrugged and her gaze fell to my hands. “What have you got there?”
I slipped my now prized possessions into the pocket of my jumpsuit. “What are you all doing in here?”
“Hanging out.” Petal smiled shyly at me.
“Waiting for you.” Pam adjusted her floppy straw hat so she could regard me with both eyes.
“Trying on your clothes.” Lucy pouted at her reflection.
All I had was the suit I died in, so really it shouldn’t have taken her that long.
“Right, well, I’m tired so …” I opened the door and gestured for them to leave.
Lucy arched an eyebrow at me and turned back to her reflection. “That’s rude.”
“Have you had a long day?” Pam walked over to me and took my hand, patting it as she led me to the bed.
“Find anyone else dead?” Lucy didn’t take her eyes from her reflection.
“You tell us about your day first, then we’ll tell you about ours.” Petal shuffled over so there was space on my bed for me.
The potentially calorie-free food was just not enough to compensate for the utter horror that was the rest of my afterlife.
∞
“You made it okay then?” Oz leaned casually against the Departures wall, grinning at me. I ignored the cute dimples and the sexy stubble. Despite not having had a great night’s sleep, I’d declined Oz’s offer and tunnelled myself to work. Admittedly it took over half an hour, but I’d finally made it and in one piece too.
“No, this is a holographic projection,” I snapped. I’d found my beautiful Jimmy Choos savaged when I’d gone to put them on for work. Someone had snapped the heels off. And he thought that would make him safer?
“You’re right. I see it now. The real Bridget is a lot less pretty than you.”
I opened my mouth and closed it again with a frown. “I can’t decide if that’s an insult or a compliment.”
Oz laughed. “Do you need me to walk you to your locker room?”
“Think I can manage.” I turned my back on him and walked towards the exit.
“Bridget?” Oz circled his face with his forefinger. “The brown stuff looks good on you.”
“It’s bronzer.” I waited for the follow up insult. It didn’t come. “And thank you.”
“Your hair looks like a bird’s nest, though.”
“Well, it wouldn’t if you were quicker with my list. And you owe me some new shoes.” I’d had to borrow a pair of Petal’s flip-flops. They were pastel blue with pink flowers on the thong. Initially I’d politely declined, choosing to go barefoot instead, and then Petal had cried. So now I wore them.
“Why? Did something happen to your shoes?”
“I find it odd that you think destroying them makes you safe in your bed.”
“I don’t know. Right now I feel pretty safe.”
I hated him so much. I walked out of the tunnelling room without a backward glance but Oz’s laughter followed me. By the time I’d managed to navigate the corridors and find the locker room I was running a little late, so I wasn’t massively impressed when I found Fenton stuffed in my locker, face covered in blood. Again.
“Fenton, give up the ghost. This wasn’t funny yesterday and it’s less than that now.” No response. “Okay Fenton, get out of my locker right now or I’m calling my guardian.” I jangled the whistle i
n front of his face, half expecting him to grab for it. This was not how I wanted to start yet another day.
Thinking perhaps he’d fallen asleep while waiting for me, I gave his shoulder a gentle shake. The motion must have loosened him because as soon as I let go he flopped out of my locker and hit the floor, face first, with a thud. From that angle I could see the dent in his skull. Still, that didn’t mean he wasn’t faking. Fool me once and all.
“Okay, y’know what Fenton? I’ll just sit here and wait for you to stop being an idiot.” I sat down on the bench and waited for him to get up.
Several minutes passed. Fenton didn't move.
“Soooooo …” I said, nodding to myself as I stared at his prone form. “I guess you’re not faking this time.”
Chapter Eight
“This is exactly why I gave you the whistle,” Oz whispered out of the corner of his mouth. In his usual board shorts, faded t-shirt and flip-flops he was the picture of relaxation.
Detective Johnson conversed quietly with a constable at the door of the interview room, his back to us.
“I blew the whistle,” I mumbled, not quite as adept at the corner-of-the-mouth speaking thing. In all honesty, I’d forgotten about the whistle until I’d been sitting in the interview room for ten minutes waiting for the detective. And I was pretty sure it was the same interview room as last time.
“Ideally, you’re meant to blow it before the police get involved.”
“Why?” Before. After. What difference did it make?
“So we can make sure there’s no incriminating evidence,” Oz gritted out like it was obvious.
“You’d help me get away with murder?” Maybe having a guardian angel wasn’t such a nuisance after all. Not that I planned on murdering anyone – at least no one but him. Still, it was handy to know.
Oz twisted in his chair to face me. “Did you kill this guy?”
“Of course not.”
“Then I’m not helping you get away with anything, am I? It just would’ve been nice if we’d had a chance to prepare before the police were involved so we could make sure your lack of involvement was clear.”
“Miss Sway.” The detective said my name like a curse. Not the best start. Even Oz winced. Maybe he’d reconsider the next time he went to take that tone with me.
“Hello detective. Nice to see you again.” I was going for obsequious but it came out more like sarcasm.
“Right.” His glance flicked briefly to Oz before settling back on me as he sat down. He rested his palm flat on the brown paper file on the table. If it was the same file as last time it was much thicker now. “This makes two dead bodies in your locker.”
“Yes, I’m going for a full set,” I said.
“Can I consider that a confession?”
“No, you can’t.” Oz gave me a warning scowl.
“Are you sure?” The detective flipped through the file casually. “She was heard threatening the victim mere hours before his death.”
“This is ridiculous,” Oz said. “You can’t keep pulling her in here like this. She’s done nothing wrong.”
I, however, remained silent as my conversation with Fenton in front of his friends yesterday lunchtime popped into the forefront of my mind. What had I said? Had I threatened him?
“I have an eyewitness that states your ward said, and I’m quoting here, ‘I will rip off your empty head and use it as a drinking cup’.”
I laughed. “I’ve never said anything so stupid. I may have expressed my unhappiness that he’d been lying to me but at no point did I mention decapitation.”
“So, you didn’t follow that up with ‘You vindictive little worm. I will kill you for this. I will kill you. I will kill you. I will kill you.’?” The detective read the quote so deadpan it would’ve been funny if it were happening to someone else.
“Nope.” I sat back in my chair and folded my arms, not sure if I was relieved at being massively misquoted or if I should be more concerned.
“Well, I’m glad to hear you say that, Miss Sway, because things were looking bad for you for a moment there. What with the first victim found in your locker being your guardian angel.” Johnson paused, I assumed waiting for a reaction from me. I gave none. “And the second body, also found in your locker, being your partner, whom you’ve admitted to being unhappy with.” He placed a picture of doubly dead Jim in front of me then one of doubly dead Fenton next to that. In both, the men were lying how they had fallen from my locker. “You don't seem surprised to learn the first victim was your previous guardian angel.”
“I don't, do I?” I said as I looked between the photos. Blow to the head from behind. Blow to the head from behind. Hmm, maybe the killer was a woman. Or just sneaky.
The detective watched me examine the photos. “Anything you’d care to add?”
I very briefly debated asking if I could have copies for Sabrina but decided against it. I doubted he’d understand and she probably had more information at her fingertips than the detective anyway.
“No.” I stood up and straightened my awful mauve jumpsuit. “So, I’m free go?”
“Absolutely. As soon as you can provide me with an alibi.” The hint of a smile on the detective’s lips implied he didn’t think I’d be able to.
“From eight thirty onwards I was at home. Mr Salier and my housemates can confirm that.”
“Interesting that you should only offer me an alibi from after eight thirty.”
“Well, Fenton was still alive around quarter past so I didn’t think you’d need it from any earlier.”
“And how do you know that?” Johnson’s smile stretched as if he’d somehow caught me out.
“I saw him talking with someone about quarter past.” I turned to Oz. “It was about that when you picked Sabrina and me up, right?”
Before Oz could confirm, a loud bang reverberated around the room accompanied by a puff of smoke. Two black shapes stepped out of it. Ghosting Busters.
Uh-oh.
“Thank you, detective.” The taller of the two gestured for Johnson to leave. “We’ll take it from here.”
“The hell you will.” The detective stood up so fast his chair skidded a short distance across the tiled floor. “You have no jurisdiction here.”
“Of course we do, or we wouldn’t be here. Now if you please?” The GB spoke softly and offered Johnson several sheets of paper before gesturing to the door his partner was holding open.
“Constable?” Johnson thumbed through the sheets. “Please check the correct paperwork has been filed with the front desk to allow these … people access to our suspect.”
“You’re wasting our time, your time and their time,” the GB said on a sigh. “Trust we have filed the correct paperwork and are permitted to be here.”
“No,” Johnson said.
We all waited in silence for the constable to either confirm or deny the GBs had a right to be there. Judging by the rigidity in Oz’s posture he wasn’t too happy about this new development either. I wasn’t their biggest fan myself. Something about people in masks, even superheroes, made me uncomfortable.
The constable popped his head around the door, obviously wanting to make himself as small of a target as possible.
“They’ve filed the correct forms, detective.”
“Okay, then.” The detective moved his chair back to the table, sat back down and gestured towards me. “You may question my suspect.”
“Thank you.” The taller GB gestured to the door again. “We’ll share any relevant information with you.”
The detective’s attention flicked from the GB to the door and back again. “It’ll be easier if I hear it first-hand.”
The GB didn’t say anything. He smiled his polite smile and continued to gesture to the door. After a long silence Johnson got up and left, slamming the door behind him.
“It’s Ms Sway, isn’t it?” The GB who’d done all the talking so far took the detective’s seat. “It’s nice to meet you.”
�
��Thank you, and you.” I offered him my hand. He hesitated only for a moment then shook it gently. “And you are?” My mother had always taught me that if you were polite enough you could talk your way out of any situation. It’s unlikely she’d been referring to a double homicide but I figured it could only help.
“Officer Leonard.”
“That’s not your real name, is it?”
“It’s my name in this life.” He smiled; even his muddy brown eyes smiled. He seemed like a genuinely nice guy. I didn’t trust him an inch. “What can you tell me about Fenton?”
“Probably not much, I’m afraid. What would you like to know?”
He watched me smooth my fringe to the side before speaking. “Let’s start with what was he like to work with.”
I gave a small shrug. “Fine.”
“Just fine?”
“Yes.”
“You were friends then?”
“He was my trainer. But he used the word partner and trainer interchangeably.”
“Partners who confided in each other?”
“We only worked together for two days.”
“Sure.” He nodded as if he hadn’t known that. “Did you notice anything unusual in his behaviour?”
“I didn’t know him well enough to separate usual from unusual.”
“Sure. Right. Of course not. I don’t suppose he asked you to keep hold of anything for him?”
“No.” The small notebook that had fallen from Fenton’s body after he’d dropped to the floor suddenly felt very heavy in my pocket. I didn’t know why I’d picked it up or how I’d forgotten all about it until now. And since they were asking for it, something told me not to give it to them.
“No? Just no? Most people would answer ‘like what?’ to that question.”
I shrugged. “He didn’t give me anything so asking ‘like what?’ seems somewhat pointless.”
He nodded, mulling that comment over. “Did he get along with everyone?”
“I don’t know. I’d only worked with him—”
“For two days. Right. Did you ever see him argue with anyone?” He smiled but his I’m-a-nice-guy-but-not-too-well-informed routine was putting me on edge.
Beyond Dead Page 12
