Liar: Karma Inc. Case 3

by Gillian Zane

  I elbowed Kranston. “Look at this bottom feeder.”

  “What she’s hoping will happen? Waiting for him to go postal? Glad he’s not some anti-gun control freak,” Kranston whispered. “That’s Noel from green accounts, probably the most exciting thing to happen to her in years.”

  That's exactly what Noel was wishing for. It permeated every pore of her being. If she could get Charles going postal on camera the hits on the video would be amazing. Maybe she could even monetize it and make a few bucks. She was always on the lookout for something she could capture and have go viral.

  Noel wished it, Charles delivered. Charles picked up a large statue from his desk and gripped it tight. From what I could tell, it was the bust of some old dude and he looked down at it stupidly for a second, maybe two, like he couldn't place it, or he didn't know what to do with it.

  Then he lifted it, raising it over his head as if to throw it at the large glass window. It wouldn't have broken; the plate glass that made up the entirety of the north wall was almost indestructible. The security guard, already skittish, rushed Charles, he had his stun gun raised and ready to use it. The little taser made contact with Charles and they both fell to the ground, Charles convulsing.

  I looked away, but I saw the black in Charles’ aura fade as Noel’s grin increased. Charles' second video was in the works.

  Karma delivered.

  I felt the warm flood of euphoria as the case came to a final and dramatic close. My stomach did flip flops over the implications, but what was done, was done.

  “Holy fuck,” I looked at Kranston, thinking he was commenting on the scene that just unfolded. But he was looking at his phone.

  “What is it?” Lauren leaned in and asked.

  “Lori Kay attempted suicide. She’s been admitted to St. Matthews. Her husband just posted on her account. He’s taking the children and moving in with his parents. Gawd, it’s a long rant.” He held the phone out and showed us a huge post written on Lori Kay’s account, but signed with her husband’s name.

  This time the movement in my stomach was violent. I hurtled past Kranston and grabbed the garbage can. I threw up the breakfast I didn’t eat, just as the warm flood of negative energy washed over me like a drug.

  14

  Inappropriate Thoughts

  “Can you come get me?”

  “I hadn’t planned on leaving until Friday.” Drake’s voice was scratchy with what could only be sleep. It was ten in the morning. Was he a late riser? I imagined him in a warm bed. Wondered if he wore PJs or maybe just boxers…maybe nothing at all. Damn, even in the midst of my existential crisis I was having inappropriate thoughts. I was sick. No wonder I was in this predicament.

  “We don’t have to go on the road trip. I just. I quit my job. Again.”

  “Quit or fired?” He chuckled. It was a sound I hadn’t heard before from him. I wanted to roll around in it and call it my new pet.

  “Quit.” No one knew but Lauren and Kranston, and that was only because they were there to see me go. No letter of resignation or formal “I quit” from me. I grabbed my purse after I upchucked and got the hell out of there.

  “What the hell?” Lauren called to my fleeing back.

  “Fuck this place,” I responded as I high-tailed it out of there. I shot off a one finger salute in tribute to her way of communicating and double timed it to the elevators. If they had another case within the fucked up walls of that firm they could get another operative. Advertising wasn’t for me. By the time I had made it to the lobby, the video of Charles getting tasered was already streaming on social media, Lauren had even tagged me, the bitch. Those people were insane. The whole building needed a warm dose of nasty karma. If I had been in the mood I would give them all a case of food poisoning or something. Poison those waffles that they were all chomping on and gossiping over.

  “Didn’t think advertising was for you anyway. Where are you?” Drake sounded more awake and I heard the rustle of fabric as if he was getting dressed. I felt calm talking to him, my breathing settled down, my heart slowed. He would come get me. I didn't have to stay here. I didn't have to go back to Afterlife. I didn't feel safe and comfortable anywhere. It was ironic, a man that in parts scared me, I called to make me feel safe.

  “Walking out of the building.”

  “I’ll be there in ten. Go around the corner to the coffee shop. I’ll get you there.”

  “Thanks, Drake.”

  We hung up and I walked quickly to the coffee shop. It was a generic place that catered to all the suits from neighboring buildings. I ordered a mocha and sat outside at a small cafe table, the weather too chilly to promote outdoor sipping. It shouldn’t affect me, but I was shivering from the cold in minutes, the warm coffee doing nothing for me.

  What had I done?

  I had done my job. My job. My job which was to teach people a lesson. An epic lesson that would probably screw them up for the rest of their lives. But isn't that what most life lessons were comprised of? If there weren’t people like me and the other operatives of Karma, Inc., how would people learn and grow?

  I told myself this as I shivered over my coffee, but it didn’t make it better. It was still me doing it. I was still wielding the sword that cut these people down. Suicide. I couldn’t fathom it. I didn’t know if Lori Kay was in critical condition, or if it was a failed attempt. Either way, it was a wake-up call. For me, or her, I wasn't quite sure. I hadn’t processed through it yet. I pulled out my phone and found her social media account and scrolled to her husband’s post.

  The man was thorough. He went into great detail about his hatred of her, his wife, and her suicide attempt and what led up to it. She had downed a bottle of ibuprofen. Could that kill you? From the tone of his post, he had no sympathy for her. His wife, the mother of his children. He called her suicide attempt another act of attention seeking. He ended the post in a very poignant closing:

  “While in my heart I want to have sympathy for her and forgive her actions, I am unable to foster any kind of feelings for her, even though she is the mother of my children. This last act of hers was just another selfish act in a long line of selfish acts that finally nailed this coffin closed. While trying to end her own life and failing, she has successfully ended something else, this marriage. I will not feel sorry for her. I can only mourn that my children will be hurt by their selfish mother's actions. Judge me how you will.”

  He then went on to give details on where she can be visited, which was nice of him. Thoughtful. I put my phone down when a tear rolled off my cheek and splashed on the screen. I looked up in time to see a dark SUV pull up to the curb. Drake got out and left the vehicle running at the curb.

  He didn’t say a word, just ushered me into the vehicle. Closing the door behind me.

  “You’re freezing,” he said as a greeting.

  “It shouldn’t be like that.”

  “What?” He turned to me, concern in his eyes. I didn’t want to see that. I didn’t want to see of all people, Drake Greco, looking at me like that.

  “The cold. I shouldn’t be cold.”

  “Okay. Sure.” He started the engine and cranked up the heater, that concerned look not leaving his eyes. I wanted surly Drake, accusatory Drake…not concerned and kind Drake. I needed to fight. I needed to be pushed. If he gave me kindness I would break.

  “Where do you need to go?” he asked when I lapsed into a grumpy silence, staring at my hands, hating the blood red nail polish I had manifested this morning. Blood on my hands. “Can I take you to your apartment?”

  “No,” I said quickly. “I can’t go back there.”

  “Why can’t you go back there?”

  “Per…” I caught myself. “This person. They’re staying with me and driving me nuts. I can’t go back home.” I couldn’t. I didn’t want to get my next case. I didn’t want to see Persephone. I didn’t want to be told what a good job I had done.

  “Sure, if you want we can take that trip early. I just have to wrap
up a few things at the office and then we can leave.”

  “Yeah, that’s perfect.” I needed something to distract me and finding Pete would definitely distract me.

  Drake put the SUV in gear and headed downtown. I let myself sink into the soft seat of his vehicle and tried not to think about what had happened.

  15

  Were-Gorillas

  Drake’s office was behind a trendy strip mall featuring a wide variety of consumer driven wonders. Shoe stores, clothing stores, and even an entire store dedicated to puppy treats. I didn’t see how that was marketable. Are there enough people that will buy specialty dog treats to keep a business afloat? Another mystery of the universe. But then, me and advertising weren't that compatible, so what did I know about marketing?

  “I need to get clothes and a few things before we leave. We’re staying there, right? I don't want to go home.” The trip was going to take us six hours. I assumed we would book a room when we got there. Two rooms.

  “Yeah, I planned on at least one night, probably two, until we can talk to the sheriff and anyone that might have seen Pete.”

  “That’s fine. It’s not like I have a job I have to report to tomorrow,” I laughed and shook my head, feeling a bit out of sorts as usual. Hope my credit card still worked. Maybe Drake wouldn’t mind me sleeping in his SUV? The seats were comfy.

  “It’ll only take me an hour or so to wrap a few things up. Meet me back at my office.” I nodded and headed in the opposite direction.

  There were a few clothing stores in the strip mall, mostly boutiques that were way out of my price range when I was alive. I went into the first one and grabbed a few outfits in my size, barely glancing at their style. I had too much on my mind to get into shopping.

  “Don’t you want to try these on?” the sales lady asked me.

  “Nope,” I replied and handed her my business credit card while praying it was authorized to work considering this wasn’t job-related. I didn’t even pay attention to the amount, but I’m sure it was ridiculous based on the one price tag I had glanced at.

  The card went through and I headed to the next store, which was a drug store. I bought a large bag to store my clothes in and a few toiletries, just the basics, anything else I could manifest, but this was enough to look realistic to Drake. I also stopped at the shoe store and bought a pair of sneakers since I was wearing heels. All of my charges went through. Hopefully, it would hold out until we got there so I could pay for a hotel room.

  I walked into Drake’s office and he was on the phone. I couldn’t hear what he was saying, only the deep growl of his voice. I hadn’t been able to look around the last time I had been here, so I paced around the room looking at different things. The man had eclectic taste. His office was decorated with an old world excellence that I found intriguing. There were photos of different locations all over the world, and most of them looked like shots he had taken himself. There were a few of him posing with different people that looked vaguely familiar.

  As I neared him, the conversation became clear. I heard him same my name, which got my attention. I stopped to listen. He knew I was there, so it wasn't like I was doing anything wrong.

  “Cassidy Hail?” His voice was a question as he listened to something on the other end.

  “Yes, I’ve spoken to her. Why?” Again the pause as the person on the other end spoke. My curiosity was piqued, now.

  “She’s fine. I don’t think marketing is the career path for her. I wouldn’t worry.” I smiled at his words. Our eyes met and he mouthed the word, “Lauren.” She must have called to tattle on me. What did she tell him, that I ran out and never came back? Or did she make up some story about me acting like a lunatic? I wonder if she would be jealous if she knew I was standing in his office. My thoughts surprised me. Lauren was my closest friend when I was alive, but right now the only feeling I could conjure up for her was indifference. I didn’t care about her, not like when I recalled Pete and a warm tug at my heart let me know that something was there. This made me sad for some reason. I wanted to miss more about my living life.

  “No, nothing new on the case. I’m following a lead to find Pete. I think I got a hit on the last tower his cell phone pinged from. No, no, it should be fine.” He paused as she said something.

  “That’s great, Lauren. I appreciate your help. I’ll call if I find anything.” He hung up the phone, not commenting on the call.

  I went back to inspecting his domain. Along with the photos, there were numerous trinkets decorating the shelves that all looked exotic, some gave off low hums of power, which I had never felt before. One piece in particular, what looked like a voodoo doll, but with less flair, buzzed with dark energy. Almost without meaning to, I reached out for the doll that was made of mostly twigs and hair.

  “Don’t touch that,” Drake snapped and I jerked back.

  “What is it?” I couldn’t stop looking at it. I wanted to touch it. I wanted to absorb the energy, which was a weird thought.

  “It’s a reivku, maybe a hundred years old. It’s supposed to capture a soul if used by a powerful sorcerer and they can use the energy in their magic. I found it at a little tourist Voodoo shop in New Orleans.”

  “This should be locked up somewhere.” My fingers itched to touch it.

  “You can feel it, too?”

  “Yes.” I forced myself to look away from it. It was hard and scary how much I wanted to snatch it up.

  “I knew there was something different about it, but I couldn’t find anything about it in my research. It’s one of my hobbies, the occult and supernatural creatures.”

  “I wouldn’t have pegged you for a believer in Big Foot, Drake,” I said as dry as I could manage.

  “You’d be surprised about how many shape shifters that exist in our world, a few that look similar to what Big Foot is supposed to look like.”

  “Shape shifters?” I met his eyes and realized he was smirking. “Was that a joke?”

  “There are these particular breeds of Were-Gorillas in the Pacific Northwest,” he continued.

  “Is that what you are? A shape shifter.” I cut his joking off with a serious question, finally throwing the chips on the table.

  “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours, Ms. Hail.”

  “Were-gorilla,” I huffed out. “Wanna see my fur?” I realized how that statement could be misconstrued when I saw Drake’s eyes go all dark and the side of his mouth pulled into a slight smirk.

  “I don’t like teases, Ms. Hail.” He stood behind his desk and I gulped in nervousness.

  “I don’t have fur, Drake,” I emphasized his name. I hated when he called me Ms. Hail and he knew it.

  “Neither do I.” His lips spread into a smile and I rolled my eyes.

  “Are we ready to go, or are we just hanging out shooting the shit?”

  “Let’s go, wouldn't want to shoot any shit.” He walked over to the sofa and grabbed a bag that was lying there. It was sleek and black and looked exactly like something he would carry. He handed me a set of keys and I looked at them in confusion.

  “I have to lock up the office, and grab something from my flat on the second floor. Go load your stuff into the SUV, I’ll be only a couple of minutes.”

  “You live here?” I asked, my nose wrinkling.

  “It’s a place to crash if I’m working a long day. I have a house…does that meet your expectations?” he said and again I was faced with the fact that I couldn’t tell if he was joking with me or being grumpy.

  I closed my hands over the keys and nodded, turning my back on him before I could say something else that would get me in trouble.

  I stepped into the parking lot and had to jump back immediately as a car came barreling around the corner and almost plowed me over. I glanced up in time to see they hadn’t even noticed because the chick behind the wheel was scrolling through her phone.

  “Son of a…” I cursed under my breath and then gleefully willed her vehicle to plow right into a cement
divider that protected pedestrians on the sidewalk from crazed drivers like her. Being the responsible karma operative I was, I also slowed her car down a bit and checked for any innocents that might be injured in the process. The coast was clear. She slammed into the divider, too busy on her phone to notice. The air bags deployed. The sun flashed off something metal as what I assumed was her phone flew out the window and slammed into the cement ground with a sickening grinding sound. The yummy feel of dark energy flowed over me. It was like a dark drug and the moment it washed over me I craved more. I watched with relief as the girl got out of her vehicle and stumbled around to the front. My initial action to dish out karma was a knee-jerk reaction and not planned. It could have ended badly. She stumbled out of the vehicle because her high heel was broken, not because she was injured. When she realized the damage to her vehicle, she went through a series of spastic movements and creative cursing that had everyone around the area gawking. It didn’t look like the damage was that bad, but I also noticed she had a paper plate in the window. The SUV was brand new. That blew. Bet she’ll stay off her phone while driving next time.

  I clicked the key fob for Drake’s SUV and loaded my bag into the back seat just as he was crossing the parking lot, a file folder clutched to his chest and his overnight bag in his other hand. He glanced over at the petulant girl, still throwing a fit and now screaming at the shop owner who had come out to investigate. He shook his head, then he glanced my way and his eyes narrowed. Did he suspect I had something to do with that?

  He slid behind the wheel and took a deep breath before looking over at me.