Dead Jolly

by Boone Brux

  “Just once?”

  “Yes.” The answer came out clipped. “Once was quite enough.”

  “Really?” Finally, things were getting interesting. Imagine a woman who didn’t fawn over Fred’s attributes as a lover. “When I found your name in his address book, I just assumed you two had been romantically involved.”

  “Ugh, that book.” She fussed with a display of silver chains but didn’t meet my gaze. “What a Neanderthal. Acted like I should be impressed that the pages were filled and current.”

  “He actually showed you the book?” I knew Fred was a Romeo, but I hadn’t pegged him as a complete jerk.

  “As good as.” Margaret’s hands fluttered to a stack of Christmas cards and started rearranging them. “He practically left it out for me to see.”

  “That, madam, is a lie.” Fred materialized behind Margaret but hovered too far away for me to grab. “She snooped through my coat pocket when I went to the little Santa’s room during our dinner date.”

  Nate moved forward and eased to the right of the counter while I stepped to the left, pretending to examine the hanging key chains, but Fred was having none of it.

  “Not another step or—” He snapped his fingers. “Poof, I’m gone, and you’ll never find me...ever.” After getting a look at his black book I knew his unfinished business could take forever. “We wouldn’t want that, would we?”

  “No.” My eyes cut from Fred to Margaret, pretending I was talking to her. “—way. I can’t believe he was such a cad.”

  “Don’t misunderstand me,” she said. “He had every right to date anybody he wanted. It’s just…” She shrugged. “I thought we had something special.”

  “We did, my dear.” Fred floated a few inches toward her, hands extended. “We did.”

  “But hadn’t you only gone out once?” I asked.

  “Yes, but that was after a couple of years of flirting. I knew he had a lot of lady admirers, but I thought once we took the plunge and had an official date, we’d be exclusive.”

  “I take it Fred didn’t see it that way?”

  “Indeed, I did not,” He cut in. “How could I deny the rest of the female population the pleasure of my company?” He puffed up his chest and hooked his thumbs on the edges of his pockets. “It would have been a travesty to relegate all those lonely widows to companionless lives.”

  It took all my willpower not to roll my eyes.

  “Oh, quite the opposite,” Margaret said, sidling around the counter. She drifted to a display of quilted bags and began puffing up and adjusting them. “He told me it would be unfair to his other lady friends if he only kept company with one woman.”

  “Wow. Talk about narcissistic.” I glared at the hovering ghost. It was the glower of unified female suffering, a scowl for every woman who had been wined, dined, bedded and dropped. A dirty look for any woman who hadn’t been enough for some jackass. “Actually, I think you’re the smartest and luckiest one of the bunch.”

  “You’re getting a giant lump of coal in your stocking this year,” Fred said. “And don’t look at me like that. She’s only telling half the facts.” He circled his fingers around his head. “Crazy as a loon. She started talking about marriage five minutes into the date.” Pressing his hand against his chest, he reared back on invisible heels. “I might not be a one-woman-man, but I’m still a gentleman. I tried to let her down gently, but she refused to hear it.”

  “Thank you,” Margaret said, drawing my attention back to her. “There really should be a law about leading women on.”

  “Leading them on? I did no such thing,” Fred said, puffing up with indignation. “The woman stalked me for a solid month. Everywhere I went, there she was, watching—judging.” He floated another foot back and shook a fist at her. “I will not let her have the last word. I will not have my name besmirched by this wackjob.”

  The slightest tremor rattled the shelf next to him. Glass figurines shifted, bouncing across the smooth surface.

  “Goodness,” Margaret gasped, clamping onto the edge of the table. “Earthquake.”

  I glanced at Nate and lifted my brows, silently asking what we should do. He shrugged. A lot of help he was. He usually had an alternative strategy tucked up his sleeve. Guess we should have planned this out better, but who knew that Fred would have shown up and pulled some poltergeist shenanigans?

  “Feels like it.” I skirted the counter and made a beeline for Fred, but he saw me coming and shot through a display of mugs and reading glasses. The snowflakes hanging from the ceiling swirled and danced as he passed through them. “Crap.” One advantage ghosts had over me was their ability to pass through solid objects. By the time I’d circumvented the display, he’d zoomed to the end of the store. “Double crap.”

  As I started toward him, a glass unicorn exploded next to where he floated. I threw my arms up in a block, but thankfully the glass didn’t reach me.

  Margaret screamed and darted to the exit. “Get to a doorway!”

  Staring down Fred, I didn’t move. A second later Nate was by my side. “Go left, I’ll head down the middle,” I said.

  “The plan being?” he asked.

  “Grab the ghost, that’s the plan.”

  “Brilliant.” He ducked to the left. “This won’t end badly at all.”

  As usual, I ignored his lack of faith in me. Mainly because it was justified. I was more of a smash and grab reaper, not one of those graceful ninja Angels of Death, who vaulted in the air, swiped, and landed with the elegance of a cat. After a particularly destructive reap at the Loussac Library, Constantine had likened me to the proverbial bull in the china shop. I couldn’t be mad. That was a fair comparison.

  I took off down the aisle, hoping I could get close enough to grab him. From the way Fred stared at me, I doubted that was going to happen. “Fred,” I said in a loud whisper. “Calm down and let’s talk about this?”

  “What, pray tell, do you think we should talk about?” He held out his translucent arms to his sides and floated backward. Thankfully, he passed right through the collection of blown glass and fragile figurines. “I am the wronged party here. Not Margaret.”

  “Really? How so?” Another step brought me within lunging distance. “She’s the one you cheated on.”

  “Never. She knew that I didn’t want to settle down. That’s what made me so attractive to her. Thought she could change me.” He floated through the shelf to my left, putting a greeting card display between us. His head hovered just above the top of the metal stand. “But she couldn’t handle that.” His body lifted, his eyes narrowing on me. “And stole part of my book.”

  Stopping, I glanced over my shoulder to locate Margaret. She still cowered in the doorway. “Stole? How?”

  “Ripped out the entire G-section.” His voice blossomed in volume, and his expression darkened. “I will not—no—cannot rest until I have my G’s back.”

  He swooped forward, and the display of cards exploded, blasting paper into the air. Colored envelopes and festive greetings showered the aisle. Fred crashed into a basket of knitted stuffed animals, sending the menagerie into the air. From the doorway, Margaret let out a high-pitched yelp and dropped to the floor in a crouch.

  “Wait.” I raced after him, but he smashed into the rack of colorful scarves and upended it directly in front of me. “Stop.”

  “I’ll circle around,” Nate called, but I knew it was too late. There was no way we’d catch Fred.

  Hurdleing over the tangle of scarves, I paralleled Nate’s course and shouted. “We can get it back for you.”

  Fred circled a large snowflake dangling from the ceiling, reminding me of Slimer from Ghostbusters. His eyes bugged out, and he bared his teeth like a growling dog. A jolt of fear shot through me, and I pulled up short. Yikes, that was one pissed off and scary ghost. Thin threads of electricity raced up and down his arms and swirled around his head.

  “Uh oh.” Nate stopped beside me. “That’s not good.”

  “So
not good,” I repeated.

  “W-w-what is that?” Margaret gasped from behind us.

  We both spun to find her gawking up at Fred’s floating form.

  “Shit,” Nate muttered.

  “Margaret.” In an attempt to block her view of the ghost, I stepped in front of her. “You seem to be having some issues with your wiring.”

  “Wiring, my ass.” She shoved me aside and pointed. “That looks like Fred.”

  “No. Fred’s dead.” I smiled, an involuntary and slightly desperate laugh bubbling up from me. I’d be dead too when Constantine found out about this. “Remember?”

  Tremors shook her voice. “I remember, but that’s definitely Fred.”

  “Give me back my G’s you old battleax,” he bellowed at her.

  She shrieked, spun and bolted to the back room. Good, at least she was out of the way—for the moment. I pivoted back toward Fred and jammed my fists onto my hips. If I couldn’t calm him down, I’d try shaming him. It worked with the kids sometimes. “Fred, you stop this silliness right now!”

  His glowing gaze refocused on me. Yep, his eyes were actually glowing. So not good. “My G’s,” he growled.

  Tiny prickles of dread skittered down my spine, and a knot of fear formed in my throat, making it almost impossible to speak. Normally, at this point, I’d switch on my super paranormal reaping powers, which involved a billowing blackness I inherited from Nyx and the smoky-bladed scythe that Hal gave me. Lucky for Fred, he was too far away.

  “You’re not getting anything until you calm down.” I shook my index finger at him. “Do you understand me? No A’s, B’s, or C’s, and certainly, no G’s.” Switching directions, I pointed to the floor. “Down! Now!”

  He circled his head once as if getting ready for a fight, tipped his chin toward his chest, and pinned me with his freaky glowing stare. “It’s you who doesn’t understand.”

  “Uh oh.” So much for my stern approach.

  Fred lifted his arms, the lightning looping around his wrists and circling to his palms. Orbs of white and blue electricity swirled and gyrated in his grip. Clearly, we’d all made a big mistake thinking Fred’s soul would take longer to spoil. From the malevolent glare he speared me with, I knew this ghost was balls deep in his decomposition.

  His roar rent the air just as Nate tackled me from behind. We hit the floor a second before the plate-glass window of the Forget Me Not Gift Shop exploded. Thankfully for us the glass flew outward. We lay there for several long seconds, waiting for more destruction to rain down on us. When it didn’t, I lifted my head and looked around. Fred was gone.

  Nate grabbed me by the shoulders and mouthed something, but the ringing in my ears made it impossible to hear him. It looked like he was asking me if I wanted soup today, but I doubted that was it.

  “I’m fine!” I stuck my finger in my ear and wiggled it around. Not that it helped. “Are you okay?”

  He gave me a thumbs up, and then helped me to my feet. When I saw the utter destruction of Margret’s store I couldn’t’ contain my groan. We were in soooo much trouble. When Constantine got wind of this… A shudder rushed through me. Well, I didn’t want to think about it. Slowly, my hearing returned, but did nothing for the headache taking up residence at the base of my skull.

  “Margret?” Glass crunched under my feet as I tiptoed my way to the back room. “It’s okay Margret. You can come out now.”

  She peeked around the corner. “Is he gone?”

  “Yes.”

  Her mouth dropped open at the sight of her beautiful store’s destruction. “Oh no, no, no, no.” She cupped her cheeks in her hands and shook her head. “No, no, no, no, no.”

  Seeing the direction of her conversation, I wrapped an arm around her and guided her to a chair next to the check-out counter. “Everything will be all right.”

  “It will?” She continued to shake her head and stare at the mess. “How?” Her gaze shifted to me. “How will this ever be okay?” Her voice ratcheted a few decibels. “He destroyed my store and there’s nothing I can do about it.”

  “Well,” I said, “actually there might be.”

  “What?” She grabbed my sleeve. “I’ll do anything.”

  “Fred said you stole the G’s from his little black book.” Maybe if we could return the pages he could finish up his business and crossover. Maybe the missing section was what kept him earthbound, not his claim to be romancing the ladies one last time. “Did you?”

  “Maybe.” Margret’s bottom lip curled under and started to quiver.

  “Why? Or more to the point, why the G’s?.” If she was going to go psycho girlfriend on Fred, why not commit and destroy the whole book?

  “Because.” The tremor in her lip vibrated quicker. “My sister’s number was in there.” A whimper slipped from her. “That bastard was double-dipping in our family. I figured he had so many women that he wouldn’t notice one page missing from his book. When he didn’t call, she’d figure he wasn’t interested in her anymore.”

  “And you could have him all to yourself?” I asked.

  She nodded. “Maybe not right away, but at least he wouldn’t be dating my sister.”

  “Yeah, I get that.” I knelt in front of her. “So, do you still have that page from his book?”

  “Yes.” She stood and walked to the cash register. “I didn’t have the heart to throw it away. I guess I felt a little guilty about betraying my sister.” Lifting the black change drawer, she pulled out the page from Fred’s little black book. “Here.” She shoved it at me. “Maybe if it’s gone, he’ll leave me alone.”

  I took the page from her and in exchange handed her one of my GRS cards. “I doubt he’ll show up again, but if he does, I want you to call me right away.”

  “Okay.” She read the card and then looked at me. “Who are you guys really?”

  Smiling, I tapped the card. “Really, we work for GRS.” It wasn’t a lie.

  She tucked the card under the change drawer and closed the register. “Now what do I do?”

  “Contact your insurance company. Get them down here to assess the damage,” Nate said. “I called somebody to board up your window and help with the cleanup. I suggest taking pictures of the damage, so you have a record.”

  “What do I say? I can’t tell them a ghost blew up my shop.”

  “Say you don’t know what happened,” I said. “One minute you were sorting scarves and the next your window exploded.”

  She nodded. “That’s better than the truth, I guess.”

  “Everything will be all right,” Nate assured her.

  As if on cue, a black panel van pulled up to the store. There were no distinguishable markings, no writing that announced the van belonged to Grim Reaper Services, but the vehicle was definitely one of ours. A knot formed in the pit of my stomach. If Nate called in a cleanup crew, then Constantine already knew about the fiasco.

  A second later, my phone erupted in my pocket. I swear the guy could read minds. With a trembling swipe, I answered Constantine’s call. “Hello?”

  “Command Center. Now.”

  The line went dead. Just like I’d be once I got back to headquarters.

  Chapter Seven

  I fell into bed with my clothes on and lay face down on the mattress. Well now, that hadn’t been so bad. After all, I still had a job and most of the skin left on my ass after Constantine’s butt-chewing. Sure, it could have gone better. For example, if I would have gracefully accepted the blame for Fred’s magnificent display of kinetic powers in the gift shop. Yep, that might have smoothed things over a bit.

  What I probably shouldn’t have done was point out that Fred’s rotting soul wasn’t really our fault. Or that instead of spending their time coming up with clever cryptic mission titles, the higher ups should have realized that reaping Fred would require extra man power. I also probably shouldn’t have threatened to use my scythe on the next person who yelled at me. Yeah, maybe things would have gone a little better.

 
; As it was, I’d gotten a two-week suspension for insubordination, unpaid of course, and a letter of reprimand in my file. I rolled over and stared at the ceiling. A two-week suspension would put me a few days into the new year, which meant I would get Christmas and New Year’s Eve off. Sweet. I couldn’t have planned my punishment better. That also meant Nate would have to pick up my reaps. A snipple of guilt poked at me, but I pushed it away. I should feel bad about sticking him with extra work but…meh. He’d be fine.

  I rolled to my side and stared at my bedroom wall. Mom had taken the kids to her house to make more Christmas cookies and wrap gifts, so the house was unusually quiet. Too exhausted to get up and make myself something to eat, I tucked the pillow under my cheek. My body might have been tired, but my mind wouldn’t shut off. All I could think about was Fred. What would be his next move? Not that it mattered. I’d been taken off his case. Some other reaper would be reaping Fred.

  “I think I owe you an apology.”

  Panic seized me, and I sprang out of bed, ramming into my nightstand for the second time in two days. “Fred.” Not caring that I might be acting impulsively, I dropped to my knees and fumbled around under the bed, searching for my scythe canister. “Shit.” I’d locked it in the safe, which was in my closet, which just happened to be where Fred was floating. “What are you doing here?” I asked, slowly rising to my feet.

  He stared at me for a few seconds before answering. “You know, death is a strange experience. Wonderful, but strange.” Drifting to the right, he locked his hands behind his back as if pacing. “Colors and feelings are crystal clear, but the day-to-day things I did in my physical life are muddled.”

  “That’s because you’re not part of the physical world anymore, Fred. No matter how much you want to be here, charming the ladies, you need to cross over.”

  “I know.” He pivoted and drifted in the opposite direction. “But I still have unfinished business. It’s just…” His pacing stopped, and he looked at me. “I can’t remember.”