One Stiletto in the Grave

by Jason Krumbine

  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’s 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 a 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 for that, I’m glad.” 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 dirtbag,” Avery explains. “It’s as simple as that.”

  Avery turns and leaves.

  Fifteen minutes later there’s 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 look at the skull.” 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 a 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 couldn’t recall anything 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 prope
r 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, off his hand. “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 not to 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’s 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 softly 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 only takes a few seconds to peel off the barriers between them.

  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.”

  “We'll see,” Brooke replies and eases herself on top of him. Her breath catches as he enters her, her eyes fluttering as a collection of pleasurable sensations roll through her body.

  It takes a moment to find their rhythm. She pushes down on top of him and he thrusts himself upwards to her. They fall into a silent beat known only to them.

  It’s slow tonight, a simmering passion that burns them through the evening.

  There's no anger tonight. There are no debts to be paid. No drunken stupors for them to fall into.

  Just two lost souls, finding comfort in each other.

  thirty

  Avery’s parked across the street from a small coffee shop called Barney’s. She feels icky and gross. It’s been one stop after another for her since dropping off Brian and Cindy, and none of those stops have been home. Her clothes are more or less dry at this point, although her blouse feels kind of crunchy. Between the rain and running around, her hair’s become a mess of tangled knots. She flinches as she runs the brush through quickly, transforming the rat’s nest back into something acceptable looking. Avery tosses the button down blouse into the back seat, leaving her with just the sparkly tank top, and grabs the pink sweater from the trunk. Avery’s zipping the sweater up halfway as she’s walks into Barney’s.

  The coffee shop isn’t very busy, only a handful of people are present.

  “Ms. Graves? Avery Graves?”

  Avery turns at the voice.

  It belongs to a man in his late forties with short, salt and pepper hair. He’s dressed in jeans and a casual button down shirt with the sleeves rolled up. There’s a hardworking-look to him, as though he spends time working with his hands. He’s in good shape, with strong arms and broad shoulders. Dark brown eyes watch her intently as she makes her way over to his table.

  “Bryce Arnold?” Avery asks.

  He gets to his feet, offering his hand to her. “At your service.”

  They shake hands and sit down.

  Bryce gestures towards the barista. “Can I get you something?”

  “That’s okay,” Avery says, shaking her head. “If I have coffee this late I’ll be up all night. Thank you for meeting me on such short notice.”

  Bryce gives a humble shrug. “I have plenty of time on my hands these days. Besides, I like to stay in touch with people from the business.”

  “The business,” Avery echoes. “I never heard anyone quite call it that.”

  He cups his hands around his coffee. “I have to admit, you’re not at all what I thought you would be.”

  “Oh?”

  “You sounded much older on the phone,” Bryce explains. “In New York, we didn’t have many pretty young reapers.”

  Avery blushes, avoiding his gaze. “Thank you. I don’t mean to be rude...” she starts.

  “But you’d like to get to the point of this visit,” Bryce finishes.

  Avery makes a face. “Sorry.”

  “Don’t be,” Bryce waves it off.

  “I’m just supposed to meet my boyfriend and I’m already running late,” Avery says, not sure why she felt the need to mention Jack.

  “It’s fine,” Bryce says. “It’s my fault. I forget that not everybody is independently wealthy these days.”

  “Independently wealthy?” Avery asks.

  “Yeah.” Bryce takes a sip from his coffee. “I came into a large sum of money after I retired in New York.”

  “You’ll forgive me,” Avery says. “But I heard it wasn’t as simple as retiring.”

  Bryce nods. “You’re speaking of when Messor & Decessus expanded their operations into New York.”

  “I was told you were run out of town,” Avery says.

  “That’s a bit of an exaggeration,” Bryce replies.

  “How much of one?”

  “A pretty big one.” Bryce pauses. “Look, I won’t lie. When Messor and Decessus came into New York, it was a dust up. A lot of people had problems with them. They’re basically the grim reaping version of corporate America, and everyone’s afraid they’re gonna go around and eat up all the little guys. But they’re not. They’ve got the support and structure to help reapers that the Council just can’t offer from their ivory tower. Messor and Decessus came into New York and o
ffered some very competitive and appealing employment packages. They ended up making life a lot easier for some of us stuck on the fringe.”

  “You’re not in New York anymore,” Avery points out.

  “Not because I was run out,” Bryce says. “Look, you’re young. When I got into the business, I was probably your age, maybe little younger. You do this long enough; you get very disillusioned with life. With Messor and Decessus coming in, they offered me a way out without making me feel like I was abandoning my responsibilities. So I took it.”

  Avery frowns. “This isn’t exactly the same story I was told.”

  “Adam Harris, right?” Bryce asks.

  “Yeah.”

  “Very enthusiastic guy,” Bryce says. “But he’s not really in the business. I might have hedged my bets a bit when talking with him, let him fill in some of the blanks for himself.”

  “Oh?”

  “You get an email from a kid asking about how and why you left your last job,” Bryce shrugs by way of an explanation. “So I wasn’t a chatty Cathy. I didn’t lie. I just, you know, left out the pertinent details.”

  Avery nods. “So you weren’t run out?”

  “Not at all.”

  “And you’re completely out of the game?”

  “Retirement is what they call it.” Bryce nods. “Haven’t so much as talked to a dead person in years. Hell, for that matter, I haven’t seen any dead people either.”

  “Did Messor and Decessus offer you a position back in New York?” Avery asks.

  “They did,” Bryce answers.

  “Why didn’t you take it?”

  “More money in retiring.”

  “Your independent wealth.”

  “I might have been exaggerating a little,” Bryce admits. “But I live comfortably without having to do a lot.”

  “I’m jealous,” Avery smiles and says, “Are you seeing anyone?”

  Bryce returns the smile. “No, but I’m pretty sure you had a boyfriend at the beginning of this conversation.”

  Avery blushes again. “You’re right,” she says. “And he’s a doctor. So, you know, he’s a pretty good catch.” She watches him for a second. “Do you miss it?” she asks.

  “Being a reaper?” He shrugs. “A little, but not enough to get back in the game.”