aisling grimlock 03 - grim discovery (2 page)

Children were a joy. Lily Grimlock was almost sure she’d feel that way … just as soon as her five hellions were out of the house and no longer constantly squabbling like tempestuous terrors.

“Only eleven more years,” she muttered, returning to her garden work.

She had no way of knowing just how wrong she was.

One

“Listen, hell spawn, I’m not going to do it. You can’t make me do it. I won’t go. There’s not a thing in this world you can do to make me do it. Nuh-uh. No way. No how. Nothing doing.”

As far as proclamations go, it was a good one. I didn’t think Corinne Nesbitt of 34592 Lawton Street, the third – and final – name on today’s list, understood the realities of her new existence, though.

“We’re here because we can make you go,” I said, hoping my tone was conciliatory as well as factual. I can never tell. Sometimes the words that come out of my mouth seem perfectly nice and then I get feedback about “tone” that is anything but pleasant. “I’m sorry you’re upset, but, well, it’s your time and you have to move on.”

“Oh, yeah, that will convince her, Aisling.” My brother Aidan rolled his eyes and returned to studying the items on Corinne’s TV tray. He couldn’t figure out why an eighty-year-old woman needed binoculars, a camera with a telephoto lens, a journal and a digital recorder so close to a window. “So, do you spy on your neighbors with all of this stuff? Is that why you have it piled here?”

“Don’t you touch my things,” Corinne spat, shifting her attention to Aidan. “That’s very expensive equipment.”

“What do you care?” Aidan shot back, unruffled. “You’re dead. You’re never going to use this stuff again.”

“I still maintain I’m not dead and that Winston Hallsey snuck over and dropped a roofie in my drink,” Corinne said, crossing her ethereal arms over her chest.

“Who is Winston Hallsey?” Aidan asked.

“And more importantly, why would he put a roofie in your drink?” I chimed in.

“Winston lives across the road and two houses down,” Corinne replied huffily. “He’s at 34497 Lawton. He wants to drug me so he can steal my body.”

I wanted to tell her Winston could probably pay for a body in better shape than hers – and not have to put up with her mouth in the process – but I wisely kept my mouth shut.

“You’re kind of obsessed with addresses, aren’t you?” Aidan asked. “Why do you think that is?”

“I am not obsessed with addresses.”

“You introduced yourself to us as ‘Corinne Nesbitt, 34592 Lawton Street’ and then proceeded to tell us that we had to call your lawyer if we wanted to question you,” Aidan replied, running a hand through his ebony hair. “We already knew your address. It’s on our list. The address is obviously important to you.”

“Listen, hell spawn, I don’t need to be reminded about what I said,” Corinne snapped. “I know what I said. I’m old, I’m not deaf … or dead, for that matter.”

As a grim reaper – yes, you read that right, I collect souls for a living – I’m used to people insisting they’re not dead and that some horrible mistake has occurred to cause us to turn up on their doorstep, like it’s a paperwork error or something. That’s never the case.

Reaping souls is a family business, and my father and brothers constantly tell me to stop arguing with the souls and instead simply suck them into the scepter that will ferry them to the next world – where they end up depends on how good or bad they have been – without engaging in conversation. That seems clinical and cold to me, but I understand the inclination to suck and run. This is how I lose entire afternoons of my life. Because Corinne was our last job of the day, I didn’t really want to dally.

“You’re dead,” I said, irritation bubbling up. “Look.” I pointed at the pair of feet poking out from the hallway, old-school nylon socks pooling at the ankles and making me involuntarily shudder. Seriously, who still wears those? Thankfully, I couldn’t see her head. The feet were distracting enough. That’s where Corinne expired twenty minutes ago and that’s how long we’d been arguing with her about her state of deadness.

“I still think Winston roofied my drink,” Corrine replied.

“I don’t understand why anyone would roofie your drink,” Aidan said, lifting the binoculars to peer into the next-door abode. “Other than your awesome body, that is.”

“Put those down!”

Aidan ignored her. “Holy crap! Did you know your neighbors like to get naked and do it on the kitchen table?”

“Aidan, put those down,” I ordered. I wasn’t particularly worried about him breaking the expensive binoculars. The idea of him spying on two people doing … you know … was something else entirely. It felt invasive.

“This dude has some major stamina,” Aidan said, ignoring Corinne’s ghostly hands passing through him as she attempted to regain control of her personal belongings. “That has to be Viagra. There’s no other explanation.”

“That is gross,” I admonished him. “You don’t spy on other people doing it.”

“It’s no different than watching porn,” Aidan countered. “Are you telling me you don’t like watching porn?”

“Of course not!”

“I knew you were a demon sent from Hell to steal my soul,” Corinne screeched. “I will not yield, not to Satan’s minion and not to anyone but the all-powerful Lord our God himself!”

“Pipe down, Goody Nesbitt,” Aidan ordered. “You’re being a bit of a spaz, and my eardrums can’t take more of that shrieking.” He turned to me dubiously. “Are you saying you and Griffin don’t … you know … watch some Skinemax to get you in the mood?”

Well, now he’d gone too far. If he thought bringing my boyfriend Griffin Taylor into this would make things better, well … . “Of course not. You’re completely freaking me out by talking about this!” I didn’t mean to sound so shrill. Now I was the one doing my best impression of a Salem witch persecutor.

“Whatever,” Aidan said, rolling his eyes. “I think the lady doth protest too much.”

“I think I’m going to beat the crap out of you if you ever bring this up again,” I countered. “How did it even cross your mind that we should talk about this?”

“He’s a devil,” Corinne interjected.

“Yeah, yeah,” I said, mime patting her arm for comfort. “You’ve had a rough day. We get it. Don’t look again!”

It was too late. Aidan was hefting the binoculars again. “Okay, seriously, that guy has to be a robot or something. That’s just … unnatural.”

I strode to his side, grabbing the binoculars before he could hold them out of my reach. “This is undignified.”

“Just look,” Aidan prodded.

“I am not going to look,” I snapped. “That is just … .” I caught a hint of movement in the far-off window and realized what I saw. “Oh, man, now I have to look.”

Aidan smirked, watching me lift the binoculars to spy on the neighbors while keeping part of his attention on Corinne. “Are you ready to be sucked up yet? I’m getting bored.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you, demon,” Corinne said, lifting her hands and making a cross with her fingers. “Satan has no power over me!”

Aidan narrowed his eyes, running his tongue over his teeth as he regarded her. After a few moments, he turned back to me. “Are you done getting an eyeful?”

I reluctantly returned the binoculars to their perch. “That was pretty impressive.”

“I told you!”

“I still don’t like porn,” I said. “I think that’s more of a man thing.”

“You used to read those dirty books when you were a teenager,” Aidan pointed out. “Those are kind of like porn.”

“Those were V.C. Andrews – and they were nothing like porn.”

“Weren’t they full of sex?”

“So?”

“That’s porn, no matter what you think,” Aidan said. “Anyway, we need to get this show on the road. I’m starving and she stopped being amusing ten minutes ago.”

“Don’t you dare talk about me like I’m not in the room,” Corinne said, pointing a warning finger in Aidan’s direction. “I won’t stand for that.”

“You won’t stand for anything, because you’re dead,” Aidan shot back. “Now, shut your mouth. I’m sure you’re going to a good place … wait, where is she going? I don’t want to make a promise I can’t keep. If she’s going to Hell, I want to be the one to tell her.”

“I am not going to Hell!” If anyone other than Aidan and I could hear Corinne’s soul complaining she would’ve drawn interest from the entire neighborhood by now. She was that loud.

I scanned the file again. “She’s going to Heaven.”

“See,” Aidan prodded. “You’re going to the good place. That should make you happy.”

“I don’t care,” Corinne countered. “I cannot die until I know what Winston is up to.”

Aidan stilled, his gaze bouncing between Corinne and the TV tray of spying equipment for a moment. Instead of arguing further, he picked up the journal and leafed through it. “June twenty-third … Winston leaves house with mysterious package,” he read aloud. “June twenty-third … Winston returns to house without package, wallet looks heavier. June twenty-fourth … postman drops off package on porch.”

“That’s none of your business,” Corinne howled.

“She’s got pages and pages of this,” Aidan said. “Oh, here’s a good one. May twenty-fifth, deadbeat next door has female visitor. Could be prostitute.”

“Well, she very well could have been a prostitute,” Corinne argued.

I wrinkled my nose, perplexed and weary as I considered the ramifications of the journal. “Did you spend all of your time sitting in that chair spying on your neighbors?”

“It’s not spying,” Corinne said. “I’m part of the Neighborhood Watch. That’s part of my duties.”

“Watching your neighbor go at it with … whoever that is, and good grief they’re still going … is not the same as participating in a Neighborhood Watch,” Aidan argued, his attention drawn back to the sweaty neighbors. “Seriously, that dude needs to teach a class or something.”

“Do you have any idea what kind of shenanigans go on in this neighborhood?” Corinne asked.

“I’m guessing the same kind of shenanigans that happen in every neighborhood,” Aidan replied, not missing a beat. “I’m sure some of them are having affairs. I’m sure some of them keep to themselves because they have something to hide. I’m sure even more of them keep to themselves because they just don’t care what anyone in this neighborhood thinks.”

“I’m sure a lot of them try to hide from you because you’re such a busybody,” I added.

“I am not a busybody,” Corinne sniffed. “I’m a servant against sin.”

“Spying on your neighbors while they do the down-and-dirty is a sin,” Aidan said.

“It is not.”

“It is, too.”

“What commandment am I breaking by writing down the misdeeds of my neighbors?”

“I don’t know … the eleventh one?” Aidan suggested. “Thou shalt get a life and stop spying on everyone.”

We weren’t getting anywhere. If anything, we were alienating Corinne even more than we had when we popped into her house and informed her she’d won the eternal lottery and was moving on to the other side. That was Aidan’s idea, by the way. I thought it was in poor form.

“Why are you so obsessed with this Winston guy?” I asked. “Do you have a crush on him?”

“Of course not!” Corinne was scandalized. “I would never have a crush on a man who ships body parts through the U.S. Postal Service.”

I rubbed my forehead, confused. “I’m sorry … um … you think your neighbor is shipping body parts through the mail?”

“Don’t say it like it’s a crazy thing,” Corinne chided. “I read about it in the newspaper.”

“Tabloids aren’t real newspapers,” I pointed out.

“They can’t print it if it’s not the truth.”

“Oh, good grief,” Aidan snapped. “Lady, I can guarantee your neighbor isn’t smuggling body parts. Do you know how I know? Because when people die we get notified so we can transport their souls to their final resting place.

“Not only do we get the names of the deceased,” he continued. “We also get the manner of their death. Do you know how many people have died due to organ harvesting and body-part shipping in recent weeks? None.”

Corinne wasn’t convinced. “I think you’re lying.”

“Well, great,” Aidan said, making a face. “I think you’re a freak.”

“Aidan, you’re not supposed to say things like that to her. You’re just going to make things worse.”

“What am I supposed to say to someone who spies on her neighbors and thinks they’re harvesting body parts?”

“I also think Peggy Larkspur is running a brothel out of her home,” Corinne added, as if we needed more fuel for the “she’s crazy” fire. “I think her last name is code and that the two blondes who keep visiting her every Sunday are her employees.”

“Or maybe they’re her daughters … or granddaughters … or the Meals on Wheels girls,” Aidan suggested.

“You’re so naïve.”

“That did it.” Aidan reached through Corinne’s ghostly form and snagged the scepter from my hand. “No more talking! This always happens when we talk to them. You keep promising you’ll stop talking to them and you follow through for exactly one day and then you start talking to them again. No more!”

“I’m sorry,” I muttered. “She seemed so lost and confused when we came in.”

“You have a good heart, Ais, but you need to see the bigger picture,” Aidan said, turning the scepter on Corinne. “Have a nice afterlife, Mrs. Nesbitt. I’m sure there will be plenty of people for you to spy on in Heaven.”

“No! Don’t!” Corinne was out of time. Aidan was done playing around. He absorbed her essence into the scepter, the whole process taking less than twenty seconds, and wordlessly handed it back to me.

“I really am sorry.”

Aidan snorted, his violet eyes flashing. The eyes are a family trait. My father and four brothers all boast them, too. Mine exactly mirror Aidan’s – which makes sense because we’re twins. We all had the same dark hair, although mine is shot through with white highlights because I know it bugs my father. We looked like a science experiment gone awry.

“You’re not really sorry,” Aidan said. “Part of you had fun with the freaky spy.”

“Actually, I don’t care about her,” I admitted. “I’m looking forward to telling Jerry about our day, and this story is going to be the highlight.”

Aidan glanced at me, conflicted. In addition to being my best friend, Jeremiah “Jerry” Collins is also Aidan’s boyfriend. Don’t ask. It’s a long story. As far as gossip goes, Aidan and I are mired in a competition to see who can make Jerry laugh first. Since we work together, we’re stuck with the same office stories and Jerry can only laugh once.