by Lisa Emme
I looked across the room again. The man, at least that’s what I saw, appeared to be oblivious to my scrutiny this time. But what to do about him? He was obviously using some sort of glamour or magic – something undetectable even to me – but why? Who was he and what did he want? Wishing I hadn’t left my katana hanging up in my apartment – I didn’t think I would need it on my date with Nash – I grabbed the carafe of coffee we keep for refills. It was time I met this mystery man up close.
There were several other customers nursing cups of coffee in the shop, so I started with them first, working my way around the room, refilling cups and making small talk. I could feel the man’s eyes as he glanced at me over the top of his paper, but the vibe I was getting was one of curiosity not animosity. When I approached, he folded the paper and sat up, giving me a polite nod.
“Hi,” I said, plastering on my friendly customer-service smile. “Can I warm your cup?" I held up the carafe.
“No, that’s quite all right, thank you. I think I shall float away if I drink any more of your delicious coffee.” His voice was deep and melodious, and had a hint of a British accent. He rose gracefully to his feet and reached into his pocket, pulling out a wad of money folded over a gold clip. He removed a five-dollar bill and slipped it under his coffee mug as a tip. “I really should be off.” He turned and looked down at me – and I mean down – I’m tall for a girl, about five-eight, five-ten with heels, but this guy must have been at least six-six of solid, lean muscle.
“Well, thanks for stopping by the Full Fat Coffee Company. I hope we see you again. I’m Harry, the owner.” Setting the carafe down on the table, I held out my hand in greeting.
“A pleasure to meet you, Harry. What an interesting name you have.”
He took my extended hand with a grin, his blue eyes widening at the frisson of electricity that passed between our fingertips as they touched.
I jerked my hand back in surprise. “Uh, yes, I guess it is,” I replied, putting my hand behind my back to give my now tingling fingers a little wiggle. “And you are?”
“Jonah.” He tipped his wrist to look at an expensive watch. “I’m afraid I really must be off, but I’m sure we’ll meet again. I’m going to need another of your butter tarts.”
I took a step back, letting him pass. That didn’t go as I had planned – although I honestly don’t know what I had planned. Other than tingling fingers, I still couldn’t get a read on the guy. I glanced across the room to Hilde who had watched the entire encounter like a hawk. She shrugged, as confused as I was. With a frown, I turned and hurried out the door after him, but he was nowhere to be found.
Chapter Four
The best thing I can say about my date with Nash is at least the dog didn’t die this time. The movie was a sequel to a surprising hit from a couple years before, your basic over-the-top gratuitous violence and prepare-to-suspend-reality car chase flick. The movie was okay – not as good as the first – but entertaining nonetheless. We’d sat snuggled up towards the back of the theatre, a big barrel of buttered popcorn between us, and it had almost felt like things were back to normal. But then the wall of ice descended again, the moment we left the theatre. Even with my arms wrapped around him seated on the back of his Harley as we drove home, I could feel Nash pulling away, putting distance between us, and it was totally pissing me off.
Nash had barely come to a stop in the parking lot behind my building before I jumped off the back of his bike. I yanked off the helmet he insisted I wear, despite the fact that he never wore one, and raked my hand through my short hair.
“Here,” I grumbled, pushing the helmet at a surprised Nash. “Thanks for the movie.” I stalked past him and headed to the stairs.
“Harry, wait up.” Nash scrambled to park his motorcycle and follow after me. “What’s wrong with you?”
“Wrong with me? Nothing’s wrong with me.” I turned on the stairs to glare down on him. “I’m just going home. I assume you won’t be staying.”
An expression of guilt flashed across Nash’s face. “No, I have to work, but–”
“Well, don’t let me hold you up then,” I replied snippily, turning my back on him and sprinting up the stairs.
Nash followed on my heels, stopping me when I reached the landing to spin me around to face him. “What is your problem?” he asked, waves of frustration and anger radiating from him.
“What’s MY problem? What’s YOUR problem?" I reached out and gave him a shove away from me, putting some space between us. “You’ve been acting weird for weeks, ever since Seth...” I paused, clenching my fists at my sides as I thought about how close I’d come to being disemboweled by the demon. “I said I was sorry. How many times do I have to say it? I didn’t mean to break my promise to you, but I couldn’t let Tess get hurt.”
“I know that. I don’t hold it against you. I’m not angry at you. You did what you had to do.”
Nash reached out to me, but I pulled away, folding my arms across my chest. “Then what is your problem? Why are you punishing me?”
“Punishing you?" Nash looked truly baffled.
“You never spend the night anymore, you barely touch me. You kiss me like we’re in high school and on our first date. Something has changed between us. Don’t you want me anymore?" Cripes! I hated how I sounded, like some sort of needy girlfriend.
The words had barely left my lips when I found myself backed up against the door, Nash’s hands cradling my head as his mouth descended on mine. He kissed me hungrily and after a moment of shock, I reciprocated, running my hand through his hair roughly, pulling him closer. Sliding his hands down my body, Nash gripped my ass, boosting me up so I had no choice but to wrap my legs around him as he ground his hard length against me. He continued to kiss me like a starving man attacks his dinner, nipping, licking and sucking, as if he wanted to devour me. When he finally came up for air, we were both breathless and panting.
“Does that feel like I don’t want you anymore?" Nash’s voice was low and rough and full of need.
More confused than ever, I pushed Nash away, sliding my legs back down to stand weak-kneed in front of him. I shook my head. “No,” I replied, my voice trembling. “But that doesn’t explain what’s been going on with you either. I can’t keep going this way. You need to tell me what’s going on.”
“I’m sorry, Harry. It’s not you, it’s–”
“Don’t you dare say it’s not me, it’s you.” I pointed an accusing finger at him. “Tell me what’s really going on.”
“I–”
Nash’s phone buzzed from the clip on his belt. “It’s work,” he said, glancing at the call display. “I’m sorry. I’ve got to take this.”
I shrugged, letting out a long, slow breath, and Nash stepped away, bringing the phone to his ear. I listened for a moment, but I could tell from the tone of the call that Nash was being ordered out to a crime scene. Somebody was dead and I was no closer to figuring out what was going on between us. With another sigh, I turned and slipped through the door, locking it behind me.
***
It was only a little after ten o’clock at night, so I wasn’t surprised to find Tess awake and sitting in front of the computer in the far corner of our big open-plan living area.
“I guess you heard that,” I said, stopping to kick off my shoes and hang my jacket on the hook by the door.
“Yeah, sorry. Wolf ears.” Tess shrugged.
“Watched it too,” came Bryce’s robotic voice through the speakers of the computer. Bryce is literally a ghost in the machine. A recently deceased hacker, he now lives – for lack of a better word – in my computer, well, most of the time anyway. The rest of the time he’s usually out perving the World Wide Web, peeping through video cameras on laptops and ogling (can a disembodied ghost ogle?) sex tapes. “Geez, Harry. I thought he was going to eat your face.”
I had forgotten about the surveillance cameras Bryce had installed everywhere in and around the building.
�
��You’re such a pervert, Bryce. Don’t you have some poor unlucky woman you want to electronically stalk?”
“And miss out on our first case? The MILFs can wait.”
I raised an eyebrow at Tess. “I see you’ve already filled Bryce in on your news.”
“I’m running a background check on our new clients, the Bronsteins,” Bryce helpfully supplied.
“Our new clients? The owners of the jewelry store? I thought you were going to wait until we knew for sure my theory was right.”
Tess looked at me sheepishly. “I couldn’t wait. It’s our first case. Besides, I know your theory is right and even if it’s not, if I can’t figure out what happened to the stolen gems I have no business being a private detective.”
“You’re going to be a great detective. This case is just the start, I’m sure.”
“So…since your date went bust and the evening’s still young…” Tess eyed me hopefully.
“Fine. I’ll go change. I’m not going gravedigging in my new white pants.”
Chapter Five
“It’s over here,” I said, pointing to a grave marker off in the distance ahead of me.
“That’s what you said the last two times,” Tess replied with a grumble.
“I can’t help it if they all look the same in the dark. I’m all turned around.”
We had arrived at the cemetery shortly before midnight and discovered the gates locked tight. I’d forgotten the Elm Street Cemetery locked its gates at dusk. Since I didn’t have a key and we couldn’t exactly explain to anyone why we were there and needed in, we’d driven to the far side of the property and hopped the wall, much like Milton Dudley had done – only we were extra careful to make sure we didn’t crush any roses.
I ignored Tess’s huff of exasperation and trotted over to the headstone.
“Nuts!”
Wrong place again. I gave Tess an embarrassed shrug. Isaac stood behind her, stoic as usual. He had appeared beside my truck as we loaded up the shovels, and he’d insisted on accompanying us on our little adventure.
Isaac and I have an odd relationship. It all started when I accidentally made him my vampire servant. Of course, at the time he was trying to kill me, so I don’t think I can be blamed for my act of self-preservation. When it comes right down to it, I think I ended up saving Isaac’s life in the process. Whatever the case, the result is that Isaac is bound to me and under the compulsion to keep me safe. This means he feels compelled to act as my bodyguard. He’d also been Tess’s and my roommate for a time and I’m happy to call him my friend. Friend or not, he can be a bit of a stick-in-the-mud, not always approving of our more questionable activities.
“Geez Harry, you have the sense of direction of a…of a…well, someone whose sense of direction sucks.” Tess crossed her arms and huffed out a breath. “Can’t you just ask a ghost for directions or something?”
Not a bad idea, but easier said than done. You’d think after how I was mobbed earlier in the day, that finding a ghost wouldn’t be a problem, but contrary to popular belief, ghosts are actually more prevalent during the day than at night. It makes sense if you stop and think about it. Ghosts need energy to manifest, energy they either get from their surroundings or suck from the unsuspecting living. There are more people around during the day, not to mention more electrical spill off from all our various electronics, making it much easier for a ghost to take form.
“Give me a minute,” I replied. “I’ll see what I can do.”
I closed my eyes and extended my senses, slowly releasing my powers that up until now, I had kept firmly clamped down behind my shields so as not to have a repeat of the afternoon’s performance. I could feel the dead all around me. Although their bodies were empty and lying in decay, the spark of life that once inhabited them called to me, yearning. A chill rippled down my spine and I shivered as I felt my necromantic powers respond.
“Are you all right, Harry?” Isaac asked, his voice full of concern.
“Yeah, I’m okay. It’s just...I can feel them, the dead.” I shrugged off the heebie-jeebies and took a deep breath. I wasn’t looking for the decomposing shells, it was a wandering spirit that I needed.
Turning slowly in a circle, I cast my senses out. “There!” I opened my eyes and spotted what I was searching for, a ghost hovering over a grave a few rows away.
“Hey, you,” I called out to the ghost. “Could you come here for a minute?" He looked up in surprise, a “who me?” expression on his face. I waved, gesturing to him to come closer.
The ghost flitted in and out of view until he suddenly manifested before me. He was middle-aged in appearance and dressed in an ill-fitting black suit.
“You can see me? Finally! Everyone else around here just ignores me,” the ghost hovered in front of me, encroaching my personal space.
I took a step back. “Whoa there, buddy. Back off.” My skin tingled from his close proximity, the hair on my arms standing on end.
“Hey, sorry. It’s just that I’ve been hanging around here so long and nobody will talk to me. I’m bored out of my skull. I’m Bob. Bob Zunkel.” He stuck out a filmy hand.
“I’m Harry,” I replied, ignoring his invitation to shake hands.
“What’s he saying?” Tess peered at the space in front of me as if she could will the spectre into view.
“His name is Bob Zunkel.”
“Bob Zunkel? Bob’s your uncle? Seriously?" Tess snickered.
Bob rolled his eyes dramatically. “Ha-ha, yeah, like I haven’t heard that one before.”
I grinned and turned to Tess. “He found your joke a little…tired.”
“Alright, alright. Sorry, Bob,” Tess replied and then leaned in to whisper to me, “Maybe you’d better get on with it.”
“So, Bob,” I said. “We’re looking for someone – a newly buried someone that is, and I was hoping you could point us in the right direction. Do you know where they buried Lester Pierce?”
“What’s in it for me?" Bob folded his arms across his chest, his expression calculating.
“I don’t know,” I replied cautiously. “What do you want?”
“I want to watch the season finale of Big Bachelor Chef. I didn’t get a chance to see it before…you know.”
Huh. I totally didn’t see that one coming. Get a message to a loved one. Return a power tool. Find a missing will. Check on a beloved pet. Those were usually the sort of requests I got. But arrange for a screening of a reality TV show? That was a new one.
“Uh, okay. We can probably swing that.”
“What? What does he want?” Tess asked impatiently.
I dug my phone out of my pocket and tossed it to Tess. “Can you see if you can find an on-demand episode of the last Big Bachelor Chef on there?”
“Big Bachelor Chef? You mean that–”
“Yeah, the show,” I said, interrupting Tess before she insulted Bob’s taste in TV and turned him off the idea of helping us. She had a point though. The networks were really jumping the shark these days, desperate to come up with new ways to suck out viewer’s brain cells while winning advertising dollars. The latest offering combined every cheesy, over-the-top show you could think of into one nightly hour of reality brain rot. All they needed was to throw those Kamikaze sisters, or whatever their name was, into the mix and they would have managed to capture everything that was currently wrong with TV.
“Sure thing, but do you want to stream it here where there’s no WiFi?”
I shrugged. “It’ll have to do. Besides, ever since someone taught Salvador how to skype, I have unlimited data on my phone.” It had appeared one day after I complained to Salvador that his daily skyping session to “shoot the breeze” was chewing up my data plan.
A few minutes later, Tess had the show queued up. Bob eagerly reached for the phone only to discover he couldn’t hold it.
“Hold your horses, Bob.” I took the phone from Tess and rested it on its side against a gravestone. “First things first. Where do
we find Lester Pierce?”
“Ten rows up, four plots over.”
“Thanks, Bob,” I said as I clicked play on my phone. “Pleasure doing business with you. We’ll be back in a bit to collect my phone.”
Bob grunted absently, already engrossed in the weird show where one man competing to be a master chef lived with twelve women and simultaneously dated them all in the hopes of finding a love match.
“Come on,” I said to Tess and Isaac. “It’s not far.”
***
“Crap-tastic!” Tess looked around in dismay. “We’re too late. Someone’s already beaten us to them.”
We gaped at the darkened hole in front of us. I pointed my flashlight at the gravestone. Yep, it read “Lester Pierce, Beloved Husband and Father”.
“Maybe they haven’t filled the grave in yet?" Tess suggested hopefully, jumping down into the hole to take a closer look.
“Tess! You’re walking all over Lester’s coffin.” I frowned at her. “Besides, I was here this afternoon, remember? It was filled in then.” I reached down and offered her my hand, pulling her out of the grave.
“Well, it sure isn’t filled in now.” Tess dusted off her pants. “I thought you said they caught the guy and he was in jail. Milton or whatever his name was.”
“Milton Dudley. They did. He’s still in jail. I checked.”
“Perhaps Mr. Dudley had an accomplice?”
Tess and I turned to stare at Isaac in surprise. He’s always so quiet, sometimes I forget he’s there.
“But did he get what he was searching for or not?” I wondered. “That’s the question.”
“Maybe your new friend Bob’s your Uncle knows,” Tess replied. She turned on her heel and stalked off in the direction we had last encountered Bob.
I frowned at the open grave and the pile of dirt beside it. “We can’t just leave…”
I glanced at Isaac who shrugged one of his Gallic shrugs.
