A Little More Dead

by Jordaina Sydney Robinson

  “Why is he shouting for you?” Sabrina asked, her head swivelling back and forth at the end of the avenue, trying to work out which way to go.

  “Who knows?” I shook my head and shouted Warren’s name again. I got nothing back. “Which way?” I asked Sabrina.

  Sabrina darted left and I followed. She jerked to a stop just as we rounded the corner and I ran right into the back of her again.

  “What?” I peered over her shoulder, expecting Warren’s dead body to be blocking our way. The avenue ahead was clear.

  “Are we sure that Warren isn’t the murderer and he isn’t trying to lure us to our doom?” Sabrina half turned to ask me.

  “You think Warren’s a murderer?” I asked, unable to keep the scepticism out of my voice.

  “It’s not like it’s an impossible option,” Sabrina said and then shook her head. “The only people who I’m absolutely sure aren’t killing people are you and me.”

  “Okay, well, I’m mostly sure it’s not Warren. And although I don’t really like him all that much, the thought of someone attacking him makes me feel a little violent,” I said.

  “I know, it’s very confusing, isn’t it?” Sabrina agreed. “Fine, regardless of whether he might be the murderer or not, let’s go and save the day and hope he doesn’t kill us for our trouble.”

  After our brief interlude and seven avenues, including three backtracks and much calling out, we turned into a narrow corridor to see Warren trying to climb one of the privet walls. Unsuccessfully. He was about a foot from the floor and the hedge was swaying with his every movement.

  “Oh, yeah. He’s a dangerous criminal,” I said, nodding. “I hope we’ll be able to take him.”

  “What’s he doing?” Sabrina asked, staring at him.

  “I think he’s trying to climb the hedge,” I said, stating the super obvious.

  “Yes, I can see what he’s physically doing. I meant in a more mental-process-behind-the-action type deal.”

  “Not being privy to his internal conversations I wouldn’t know,” I said, and raised my voice to speak to Warren. “This does not look worthy of a scream for help.”

  Warren twisted around so fast he fell from the hedge and landed in a heap on the ground. From a one-foot drop.

  “Finally!” he exclaimed as he pushed himself to his feet and dusted his clothes off. “I’ve been calling you for ages. You were only a corridor away. How did it take you this long to find me?”

  “It’s a maze,” Sabrina said.

  “Don’t you have a map? I’d have thought you’d have had a map.” Warren stood in front of us, his arms out to the sides. “How do we get out?”

  “This is why you were screaming for help? Because you want out of the maze?” I asked.

  “I wasn’t screaming. I was calling out,” Warren corrected me. “And, yes, I want out of this stupid, confining maze.”

  I snapped my finger and pointed at his paler than usual pale face. “You’re claustrophobic.”

  “Yes, I am, thank you for remembering,” he said and wiped a glistening of sweat from his forehead. “And my claustrophobia is amplified knowing there’s a murderer wandering around so can we leave now, please?”

  “We thought you’d been murdered,” Sabrina said, folding her arms as she stared at him. “We thought we were going to find your body crumpled on the floor with your head caved in.”

  “Good job I wasn’t, took you ages to get here.” Warren moved to the side and peered behind us. “Did you work out who’s bumping people off?”

  “In the two minutes since you left? No,” Sabrina said. “We abandoned that plan to come and save you. Why were you climbing up the fence?”

  “I was trying to see over the maze and get my bearings.” Warren gestured over his shoulder back at the hedge he’d been trying to climb. “This is such a stupid activity.”

  “Unless you’re the killer. And you have a map,” I said.

  Sabrina turned to stare at me. “You don’t think that Eleanor’s the one who’s killing everyone?”

  “No. I don’t, Little Miss Let’s Suspect Everyone,” I said. “I’d suspect Warren before I suspected her.”

  “Thanks?” Warren asked, clearly unsure if that was a compliment or not.

  “That’s why she’s perfect!” Sabrina slapped my bicep with the back of her hand.

  “Except this wasn’t her idea,” Warren said, gesturing around us at the privet walls.

  “Whose idea was it?” I asked.

  “And how do you know?” Sabrina asked.

  “It was your annoying adjustment companion,” Warren said. “Eleanor wanted to do a tour of the gardens. Apparently there’s a huge stream you can paddle in or something, but your stupid companion suggested the maze. She was waffling on, some rubbish about parallels between finding your way through a maze and the maze of the afterlife complications.”

  I shook my head. “So that makes it look like Anna’s bumping people off. Is that who we suspect now? I just can’t keep all this straight in my head.”

  “Yeah, it’s tricky when people keep lying and dying,” Sabrina agreed. “Do you really think it’s Anna?”

  I adjusted my fringe and stared at the darkening sky. “Not really. But I’m so sick of not knowing who’s going to try to kill me next.”

  “Must be tough to be you,” Warren said with a nod.

  I pointed my finger in his face. “Don’t push me.”

  “Would it help if I said it wasn’t me?” Warren asked.

  “No,” I snapped at him. “It wouldn’t help. I’m already pretty sure it’s not you or we wouldn’t have come to rescue you from the evil privet hedge monster.”

  “Then get me out of here,” Warren said, pulling a map from his pocket and handing it to Sabrina.

  “Where did you get that?” I asked.

  “Found it on the floor a couple of avenues over.”

  “You just found it on the floor?” I asked.

  “Yeah. Why?” Warren asked, glancing between Sabrina and me.

  Sabrina turned to me. “I’d say it’s worth reassessing his guilt but—”

  “I know,” I said with a nod.

  “Know what?” Warren asked. “Actually, I don’t care. Just get me out of here.”

  “Okay, where are we right now?” Sabrina asked opening the map for Warren to point out our position.

  Warren gestured behind him. “Why do you think I was climbing the hedge?”

  “So the map’s pointless?” I asked.

  Sabrina nodded, rotating the map. “Little bit, yeah.”

  “That’s just because women can’t read maps,” Warren said.

  “Says the boy trying to scale a privet hedge!” Sabrina folded the map back up and jabbed a corner in Warren’s direction. “The next time you scream like a little girl for help I’m not rushing to your rescue.”

  “Wasn’t exactly like you rushed this time, was it?” Warren mumbled.

  “Okay. Before you two start pulling each other’s hair can we decide what we’re doing, please?” I asked.

  “I think we should find a way out and if that takes us back past Anna and Alex we can just collect them up as we pass,” Sabrina suggested.

  I turned to Warren. “You good with that?”

  Warren nodded. “Sure. Let’s just collect up all the people you suspect of murder and have them accompany us around the maze.”

  “I’m going to take that as a yes,” I said and made a shooing motion for Sabrina and Warren to start moving. “Let’s go.”

  “For your information, you are much better off to have the potential murderers where you can see them. That way they can’t jump out at you,” Sabrina told Warren as they walked to the end of the privet corridor.

  “Yeah, unless the people you think are murderers aren’t actually the people who are killing everyone,” Warren countered.

  “There’s a flaw in every plan,” Sabrina said with a shrug.

  “Seems like a pretty big flaw to me,�
� Warren said as we turned left.

  “Okay, Sherlock, what would you do?” Sabrina asked.

  Warren shrugged. “I just wouldn’t get involved in the first place.”

  “That’s a little bit difficult when the bodies just fall out at you,” I said.

  He shrugged. “You still chose to get involved.”

  “He’s right,” Sabrina agreed. “I didn’t have to convince you or anything this time.”

  “Well, that’s because—” I stopped speaking as a familiar sensation spread through my body. Not a pleasant sensation, mind, but a convenient one.

  “What’s wrong with her?” Warren asked as I turned to face them both with a huge smile.

  “I have a way out of the maze,” I said. “But I’m not taking you, Warren, unless you swear on everything that’s important to you not to tell anyone how we got out.”

  “What are you going to do?” Warren asked, taking a sceptical step back.

  “Do you want out or not? I need an answer quick,” I said, offering him my hand.

  Sabrina slapped her hand into mine, which meant she suspected what was happening. “I’m in.”

  Warren grimaced but offered me his hand. “I’m going to regret this.”

  “Yes, Warren. I feel fairly confident that will be the outcome,” I said with a nod and let Madame Zorina’s summoning connect.

  We landed on the floor of her office. Madame Zorina was leaning against her desk looking a little pale but otherwise okay. Sabrina and I climbed to our feet while Warren vomited into the wastepaper bin Edith had shoved into his face. I felt pretty okay considering being summoned was the worst form of transport known to man.

  “Please don’t let extra people hitch a ride without notifying me first,” Madame Zorina said, sipping some of the coffee Edith handed to her. “I’m not a fairground ride.”

  “Says you,” I said, steadying myself against the desk while Sabrina flopped into a visitor’s chair with her head between her knees. “Feels remarkably similar to me.”

  “What’s wrong with your neck, dear?” Edith asked as she took the wastepaper basket from Warren and handed him a glass of water.

  “Oh, Alex just tried to strangle me because he thought I was going to kill him. No big deal,” I said with a shrug. “Is everyone ready to go?”

  Warren mumbled something that sounded like a curse laden request for a moment’s respite.

  “What do you mean go?” Madame Zorina snapped. “I just summoned you.”

  “I know and I appreciate that because we were stuck in the maze-o-murder with no way out. Now we can tunnel back and alert the authorities about the dead guy.”

  “Who’s dead now?” Edith asked.

  “Ginger Curls,” Sabrina said, pushing herself to her feet and stretching out her neck. “Okay, I’m ready.”

  “Who’s Ginger Curls?” Edith asked.

  “Ah, no!” Madame Zorina grabbed Lily’s diary from her desk. “That’s why I was summoning you. I know who the killer is.”

  “Whose killer?” Sabrina asked. “Lily’s killer or the person killing everyone now?”

  Madame Zorina hesitated. “Well, Lily’s killer, for sure. Maybe it’s the same person trying to cover their tracks.”

  “So?” I asked.

  “Lily was having a relationship with someone she referred to as ‘Gal’.” Madame Zorina pointed to a page in the diary as if we wouldn’t believe her. “Maybe he killed her to keep her quiet. She said he was having affairs with other women he was supposed to be taking care of and she was going to report him.”

  “Gal?” I asked. “Who’s Gal?”

  “Could it be G A L? As in Ghostly Acclimatisation Leader?” Sabrina asked, reaching for the diary but Madame Zorina pulled it closer to her chest.

  “Her GA leader was Timothy and he’s dead,” I said.

  “What if he’s not?” Sabrina asked. “What if he was faking dead to throw everyone off his trail so he could continue his murder spree?”

  My shoulders slumped and I felt like stamping my foot in a tantrum. “Why can’t people just stay dead the second time they die? Why do they have to keep coming back?”

  “I’m not listening to any of this,” Warren said, not taking his eyes from the floor. “I’m not looking at anyone. I don’t want to know anything about this.”

  “It could be initials, I suppose,” Madame Zorina said, opening the diary and examining a page.

  “Well, does she write it as initials?” I asked. “Because that would be a dead giveaway.”

  Madame Zorina shrugged. “Maybe.”

  “Maybe what? She either writes it as initials or she doesn’t. Which is it?” Sabrina asked.

  “Ah, I see the problem,” Edith said, peering over Madame Zorina’s shoulder. “Lily wrote in uppercase.”

  “What?” I asked.

  “It means capital letters,” Warren said from the floor. “You know, you have the big letters and the little letters? She wrote using only the big letters.”

  I stared down at him. “I knew I should’ve let the privet monster eat you.”

  “Okay, we need to get back,” Sabrina said, reaching to take the diary from Madame Zorina but Madame Zorina closed it and pulled it back to her chest.

  “I’d actually like to keep it.”

  “You want to keep a dead woman’s diary?” Sabrina asked.

  “No, I want to keep the diary of a women from the afterlife. And I’ve not got to the end of it yet.”

  I gave Madame Zorina a flat stare and held out my hand for the book. “She dies at the end.”

  “And we kind of need it to prove Timothy’s guilt,” Sabrina said.

  I dropped my hand and turned to Sabrina. “Do we, though? Timothy’s dead, hopefully, so it’s not him that’s killing people. What if we leave it here with Madame Zorina? She can read it, make notes and then tell us everything that’s in there.”

  “She might miss something, though,” Sabrina said.

  I narrowed my eyes at Sabrina. “Tell me you’re not one of those people who watches reality TV.”

  “It’s a form of social experiments. To see how individuals react differently when being filmed and how viewers form opinions on what they see,” Sabrina explained in a tone that almost made it sound believable.

  “Okay, new plan. It stays with Madame Zorina for now. Is everyone happy with that?” I asked and both Madame Zorina and Sabrina nodded. “Good. Let’s go.”

  Warren waved off Sabrina’s offered hand. “I’d rather tunnel myself, thanks.”

  “Okay. You go first then.” Sabrina gestured for him to stand and tunnel.

  He frowned at her. “Why can’t we go at the same time?”

  “Because Sabrina has a fear of morphing into a multi-person mutant from that one time, ages ago, when she had that minor tunnelling mishap in which she nearly bonded on a molecular level with Martin from our GA group,” I explained.

  “Oh, yeah. I remember that,” Warren said with a grin. “That was gross.”

  Sabrina didn’t say anything. She just pulled her stun gun from her pocket and shot Warren with it. He dropped to the floor with a thud and lay curled in on himself for a moment.

  Madame Zorina stared at Sabrina in horror while Edith looked on impassively.

  “Do you not think that was a slight overreaction, dear?” Edith asked.

  “I had a man’s torso taking up the same space as mine for several seconds,” Sabrina said as she put away her stun gun. “I think that Warren will now understand the horrendous nature of that experience. And it was on the lowest possible voltage, he’s just being a crybaby.”

  “You tasered me!” Warren yelped from the floor. “Again!”

  “Yeah, well.” Sabrina reached down and grabbed his ankle while holding my hand and tunnelled us back to the stately home. We landed in one of the flower beds not too far from the maze.

  “Ohhhh, no,” I said as I looked around the gardens. The peaceful greenery was dotted with police officers and
GBs.

  “Ms Sway,” Officer Leonard said from behind me, “I was just looking for you.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  “When the blocking came down and everyone tunnelled out of the maze you weren’t with them.” Officer Leonard gestured to our GA group and the home team GA group, who were sitting in small groups close to the maze. Some were huddled in those tinfoil blankets, as if they were likely to go into shock at any moment. “Your parole officer was extremely concerned.”

  “But not you?” I asked.

  Officer Leonard looked over at Sabrina and Warren. Sabrina was trying to help Warren look like he hadn’t just been summoned, party to a hefty whack of illegalness and stunned, by forcibly straightening his jumper while he was trying to knock her hands away.

  Officer Leonard’s attention finally jumped back to me. “I’m of the opinion you’re a little more resourceful than he gives you credit for.”

  I was of the opinion Oz had a good idea exactly how resourceful I could be and that was why he worried. I didn’t think it was appropriate to explain that to Officer Leonard, though.

  I shrugged. “He worries. It’s his job.”

  “So the delay in tunnelling out was due to …” Officer Leonard motioned with his hand for me to finish the sentence.

  “Warren has claustrophobia,” I said, jerking my thumb over my shoulder in his direction. “He was having a panic attack, so we had to calm him down before we could leave.”

  “You haven’t asked why you all needed to tunnel out of the maze,” Officer Leonard said, his attention catching on Oz, who was striding across the grass toward us.

  “I assumed it had something to do with Ginger Curls,” I said and Officer Leonard arched an eyebrow at me.

  “Who?”

  “Ginger Curls,” I repeated. “The guy who’s dead.”

  “Ohhhh,” Officer Leonard nodded. “You wouldn’t happen to have any idea who could be responsible, would you?”

  “All our suspects are dead,” I scoffed and then realised what I’d said. “I mean, if we were wondering in an abstract, purely hypothetical and totally uninvolved type of way who could possibly be responsible for such heinous acts.”