“Your tone did have a certain pointedness to it, dear,” Edith added. “As though the answer would solve something.”
“Do you know when he died?” I asked Madame Zorina, ignoring both of them since I couldn't explain my community service anyway.
“Can you date?” Madame Zorina glanced between the three of us.
I snapped my fingers in front of her face. “Focus. Do you have a day and time of death?”
“You are grumpy today,” Madame Zorina grumbled and flicked through the file. “Midday on Saturday just gone.”
That was right in the middle of my community service shift. I angled the picture. I was fairly sure I didn’t recognise him, but then faces blurred into one big crying mass. Injuries I remembered though. “What did he die of?”
“Those are quite specific questions, dear.” Edith watched me with narrowed eyes.
Madame Zorina looked up from the file. “Heart attack.”
“He’s not with us.” I handed her the photo back. I always remembered the heart attacks because I could look at those and not feel an urge to vomit at their gross injuries. And usually they were too dazed to cry. Or question me. Heart attacks were my favourite form of newly deceased.
“What do you mean he’s not with you?” Madame Zorina asked as all three pairs of eyes focused on me.
“I mean he’s not with us. He’s not a ghost,” I said.
Madame Zorina frowned. “Doesn’t everyone become a ghost when they die? Or a spirit? Or exist in the same place? At least for a little while before that blinding light beams them up?”
“How do you know that, dear?” Edith asked me.
“Is this your community service?” Sabrina gestured between us and I nodded. “Yours sounds a lot cooler than mine.”
Madame Zorina slapped the file on the desk to get our attention. “Do you think it’s possible for any one of you to tell me what’s happening right now?”
We spoke in unison. “No.”
“So, if he’s passed on then we snoop on his living relatives to find some leads.” Sabrina turned to Madame Zorina, who was pouting for all she was worth. “This is why you needed to ask all those questions, so we’d have something to go on. When’s the funeral?”
Madame Zorina consulted the file again. “Tomorrow.”
“I can’t.” I shook my head and pointed at Sabrina. “You can’t.”
“You’re such a party pooper.” Sabrina frowned at me.
“What’s wrong, dear?” Edith sat in the visitor’s chair next to me, her brow wrinkled in concern, which accentuated her uneven fringe. “Are you worried about the assessments? We can fit this around them and it’ll be good for you to have something to take you mind off your impending imprisonment and brainwashing.”
I gave Edith a flat stare. “Well, gee, thanks for your vote of support. And how do you know about them anyway?”
Madame Zorina looked between the three of us. “What assessments?”
“I recognised the red envelope Oz snatched from the messenger.” Edith took my hand and gave me a closed mouth smile. “And you’ll fail them because you’re smart, curious, independent, a free thinker and you have a problem with authority. You’re everything the bureau doesn’t want in an employee.”
“What’s ‘the bureau’?” Madame Zorina asked the room.
“Then how’s Sabrina getting away with it? She’s always the instigator.”
“Because I hide it better than you.” Sabrina tightened her short, blonde ponytail and threw me a wink. “And because since no one is stuffing dead bodies in my locker I’m currently below their radar.”
Madame Zorina’s voice hitched up an octave. “Someone is stuffing dead bodies in a locker?”
“Oh.” Sabrina waggled her finger in my direction and spoke to Edith. “She found another one yesterday. Her therapist.”
Madame Zorina’s attention jumped to me. “You have a therapist?”
I twisted in my chair to scowl at Madame Zorina. “She was not my therapist. And I only had to go and see her in the first place because of the mess you dragged me into.”
“But she was stuffed in your locker?” Edith called my attention back to her and I nodded. “My, you do seem to be racking up quite the body count, don’t you, dear?”
I pulled my hand from Edith’s and treated her to my best flat stare. “That’s not a helpful comment.”
“Don’t you worry, we’ll get to the bottom of it.” Edith’s attention jumped between Sabrina and me. “Do we have suspects?”
“Well, I checked both Matthew’s and Gracie’s files this morning. They’re team leaders,” Sabrina clarified for Edith’s sake. “They’re both failing the course. One more below-expectation grade on a module and Matthew is out of the programme. Gracie has a little more leeway but it doesn’t look good. There was also a note on her file to say she’d been fast tracked onto the assessment practicals. There was a code for why, but I haven’t had chance to check it yet. ”
“Surely that wouldn’t change if Dr Watson died, though, right?” I asked. “Someone else would grade them, wouldn’t they?”
“Who’s Dr Watson?” Madame Zorina chimed in again.
Edith shook her head. “They’ll get an automatic pass on the year.”
“Even this year? The final year?” Sabrina asked Edith, who nodded. Sabrina’s face wrinkled up in disgust. “That’s ridiculous. This place is ridiculous.”
“Welcome to your afterlife, dear. Bureaucracy at its finest.” Edith smiled her mother shark smile. “How about the others?”
“There was an on-loan notice in Jenny’s file. It was signed out, I assume by Dr Watson, so it must still be in her office. Does anyone fancy a little B and E before bed?” Sabrina’s eyes shone with mischief.
I shook my head. “The office is blocked. I think that might be a bit beyond our breaking and entering skills. Although …” Maybe Charon would help us out. Someone had murdered his ex-girlfriend. Surely he’d want to know who had killed her, right?
Sabrina narrowed her eyes at me. “What?”
“I might know someone who could help.”
Sabrina clapped her hands and sang, “Who you gonna call?”
I stared at her. “Seriously? We’re planning on breaking into a blocked murder victim’s office and sneaking a look at her super confidential files and you’re just going to jinx us like that?”
“Who do you know that can tunnel into blocked places, dear? Not even GBs can tunnel into doctor’s offices without authorisation.” Edith raised an eyebrow at me. “Things like this are why you’re being assessed.”
“I think things like that are at the bottom of a very long list,” I mumbled before turning back to Sabrina. “Did you manage to find anything out on that list I gave you?”
“From that list of anonymous people?” Sabrina asked. “Oddly no.”
“You have a list of anonymous suspects?” Edith frowned between us. “How does that help if we don’t know who they are?”
I held my hands up and spoke to Sabrina as well as Edith. “That was all my housemates gave me, okay?”
“Heeeeeeeeey!” Madame Zorina shouted and clapped to get our attention. When she had it, she held up her hand, fingers stretched out, and counted out her questions. “One. What is ‘the bureau’? Two. Who is assessing Bridget? On what and why? Three. Who is dead and who is shoving bodies into a locker? Four. Are these ghosts who are being murdered, and how is it even possible to kill a ghost? Five. What are ‘GBs’? Six. What programme are these leader people automatically passing? And seven. Most importantly, why am I only hearing about all of this now?” Madame Zorina thrust her hands on her hips, her foot tapping out an agitated rhythm on the hard wooden floor as she panted for breath. “Well?”
I turned to glance at Sabrina, who shrugged, and then back to Edith, ignoring all of Madame Zorina’s questions.
“Fine,” I said with a sigh. “We’ll meet you at lunch tomorrow to funeral snoop.”
“Atta
girl.” Edith patted my knee.
I shook my head at my lack of resolve. “I’ll check and see if we’re on for breaking into Watson’s office. If not, we’ll snoop on this other case. Either way, Elderfield Hospital after our GA meeting tomorrow night?”
Madame Zorina stamped her foot. “Hey!”
Edith nodded. “That sounds like an excellent plan, dear.”
“What’s the penalty for explaining all this afterlife stuff to a livie?” Sabrina asked. “And please don’t say ‘harsh’ or ‘severe’.”
Edith gave a small shrug. “They say ‘rehabilitation’ but they mean ‘incarceration until you die’.”
I pointed to Madame Zorina and turned to Edith. “Not to pass the jail term but think we’re probably going to leave this with you then.”
Edith narrowed her eyes at us. “You are both aware that by consorting with me you’re liable for the same fate?”
“No.” I turned to Sabrina who shook her head at me, then back to Edith. “No, we did not know that.”
“Ah, the afterlife,” Sabrina said with a sigh. “The torment that just keeps on giving.”
Chapter Eight
Ten minutes later, after a quick visit back to the canteen and a particularly tricky tunnelling experience, I clung onto the railing next to the baggage shelf on The Bus of Death with one hand, trying desperately not to spill the coffee in my other. Or drop the paper bag of bribe-y goodness.
I only opened my mouth a crack to speak. I didn’t want to see my lunch again. “So when you told me you drove more carefully when I was on board you were serious.”
“Bridget!” Charon clapped, both hands leaving the wheel, and turned to face me. “What a lovely surprise.”
“The road.” I let go of the pole long enough to jab a finger at the windscreen then clung back on. “For god’s sake, watch the road!”
Charon rolled his eyes at me. “You’re such a stickler for traffic laws.”
“I was hit by a bus. Remember?”
Charon waved his hand like that was a minor detail, spun the wheel and went from I-didn’t-want-to-think-about-what-speed to parked in a flash.
“What’s in the bag?” Charon flashed me his white-toothed grin, both of us ignoring his several sobbing passengers. He gestured to the doors and I stepped out into the sunshine. He followed and locked the doors behind him. Couldn’t have these pesky newly deads escaping and causing havoc, could we?
I handed him the bag and what was left of the coffee, wiping my drenched hand on one of the napkins I’d brought in preparation of such a disaster. “How come you don’t eat with us?”
He delved into the bag and came up with a bear claw pastry. “I’m the embodiment of death. Apparently that puts people off their food. Can’t imagine why.” He paused with the pastry an inch from his mouth. “Is this a bribe of some sort?”
“Yes,” I said and he bit into it anyway, motioning with his hand for me to continue. “I need to find a way into to a doctor’s office. How would I go about that?”
Charon’s chewing slowed as he looked over me and spoke around the food. “Are you injured, Bridget?”
“Not that type of doctor.”
He sipped some of his coffee, ignoring a passenger banging on the door trying to get out. “Is this to do with Watson’s death?”
I blew out a breath, relieved I didn’t have to be the one to tell him. Then realised he’d probably known before me since he’d have picked her up.
“Kinda.”
“‘Kinda’ as in you’re trying to solve her murder or ‘kinda’ as in you want to read what’s in your file?” He looked over his shoulder at the passenger at the door. I couldn’t see exactly what expression he pulled, but when Charon pointed to the back of the bus the passenger tripped over himself in his haste to get away from the doors. He sank down in his seat so low his head wasn’t even visible in the widow.
“How about I’m kinda tired of finding dead bodies in my locker.”
“That’s a good point.” Charon popped the last of the pastry into his mouth.
“Don’t you want to know who killed her?” Since they’d dated, surely there’d be some feelings left. If someone killed Michael-the-cheating-scumbag I’d want to know who it was. Though that would be so I could haunt them for moving his repugnant presence onto my new plane of existence.
“People die,” he said with a shrug and looked in the bag for what else I’d brought for him. “That’s part of life. And the afterlife. And the—” He pulled a Danish out of the bag. “Oh, my little Bridget, you are such a great briber. What?” he asked when he noticed I was staring at him, my mouth ajar.
“Were you about to say after afterlife?”
“What? No.” His eyes darted left then right as if trying to remember. “No. Definitely not.”
“Is that where you took Barry?”
He frowned. “Who’s Barry?”
“Edith’s son.”
Charon raised his arms, Danish, paper bag and coffee still in his hands. “Who’s Edith?”
I wagged my finger at him. “We are going to discuss this properly at the weekend.”
He winked at me. “Not if we’re on my bus.”
I shook my head. I didn’t have time to challenge him for information on that now, but I would totally deal with this after afterlife business on my next shift. “Will you help me or not?”
“Okay. But only because I like you, I haven’t gotten up to any mischief in an age and” – he shook the bag of pastries at me – “you listen when I talk about my favourite foods.”
We set up a time and meeting place for the next night. I had just enough time to go home and stash my makeup bag under my bed before I was summoned. I’d considered leaving it at Madame Zorina’s but it was pretty much my prize possession – I just didn’t trust her with it. I was smoothing my bedspread over just as I was summoned.
I landed in the corridor outside the main assembly hall again and opened the door to find Jenny standing at the front, arms folded but breathing heavily. I guess it took a lot out of her to summon everyone. Also, I noticed once again I was the last person she’d summoned. It was lucky I didn’t care or I might have been offended.
Matthew, Gracie and Nancy milled about the hall, circling the group of desks like a school of sharks. Blind, toothless and generally inept sharks who couldn’t smell blood if they were swimming in it, but sharks nonetheless. They had done the same thing when we’d had the written exam yesterday, only they’d walked along the rows as well, peering over people’s shoulders. Was there anything more annoying than that? Every time they’d done it to me, I covered my work and stared at them until they moved away.
“Okay. Now everyone’s here we can start the delayed assessment.” Jenny looked at everyone but me. If she were in charge of this whole thing, I was totally going to fail. That was unless I could pin Watson’s murder on her. Maybe I’d get lucky and she really did do it. Or the killer might take pity on me and do away with her as well. I frowned to myself. Had I just wished for someone’s death to make my afterlife easier? Guess I had. Huh. No wonder I was being assessed.
“We have a lot to get through.” Jenny continued oblivious to my homicidal thoughts. “I will read out fifty different scenarios and then several questions relating to them. “You must write your answers on the paper provided and number each scenario clearly.” Jenny hoisted herself up onto the teacher’s desk at the front of the assembly hall, her legs swinging freely. “Let’s begin. Scenario one. Classroom situations can be difficult environments to control. Many times a member of the class has a question, but most teachers leave allotted time for questions at specific points in their lessons. Some students may be unhappy with this. Is this response unreasonable, reasonable, not sure?”
I glanced around the room to see everyone else was doing the same thing. I noticed Warren marking something on his paper with a huge smile. Yeah, I could guess what his answer was. Maybe I could leave murder requests in my locker. I mean, if
you’ve already killed someone anyway, why not do a couple of favours for the person whose uniforms you kept staining? Seemed like a fair exchange to me.
Tommy spoke up from the back of the group. “Well, that depends on the question being asked. Can I write that as an answer instead of unreasonable, reasonable, not sure?” There was a faint edge to his voice that sounded a lot like mockery. It wasn’t obvious enough to get him into trouble but it was definitely there. And he didn’t raise his hand again either. I was making that man my friend.
“No, Tommy, you cannot.” Jenny met his eyes with a smile that was all teeth and shook out the paper before continuing. “If the students surround and harass the teacher, then the more experience members of the class should sit quietly and allow the teacher to maintain control. Is this response unreasonable, reasonable, not sure?”
To my surprise, Warren interrupted. “If the students are harassing her then she’s hardly in control, is she?”
“That’s right,” a male voice called from the middle of the group. “The teacher should be grateful someone stepped in to help.”
Jenny raised her voice to drown everyone out. “Sometimes the more experienced class members will think they know better than the teacher and try to wrest control of the class from them under the guise of helping their classmates. Is this response unreasonable, reasonable, not sure?”
“Hey, Blondie?” Warren whistled to get Jenny’s attention. I had no idea why he kept referring to people by their hair colour. “Is this seriously the test?”
“This doesn’t seem like a legitimate test to me,” Tommy shouted up.
Jenny glanced up from her question sheet and stared at me. I stared right back at her. Yep. She was going to fail me. I wasn’t about to cower in my seat and apologise because she was terrible at her job. Maybe I really would get lucky and the killer would bump her off next. I might nip to the locker room straight after the assessment finished and put an “out of order” sign on my locker because if she were next, no one would believe it wasn’t me who’d killed her. And judging by the angry and confused expressions on the faces around me, Sabrina and I would have a lot of other suspects to work with.
Deader Still: A Bridget Sway Novel (A Paranormal Ghost Cozy Mystery Series) Page 9
