Author: Jordaina Sydney Robinson
Date: 2016-06-29 04:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Paranormal; Mystery
Description: Bridget Sway is happy … because Bridget Sway is shopping! At long last she has new clothes. New shoes. New makeup. Bridget is about to add some much needed underwear to her purchases but, instead of finding a frilly knicker and bra set, she finds a matching alive dead body and its ghost. Despite her history with the victim no one is accusing her of murder so, this time, Bridget thinks she might just get to sit this murder solving spree out. Unfortunately for her, pretty much everyone else has other ideas. With a handsome parole officer keeping a closer eye on her than ever, housemates to prote

This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events
are entirely coincidental.

DEAD AND BURIED

First edition. August 31, 2017.

Copyright © 2017 Jordaina Sydney Robinson.

ISBN: 978-1386021209

Written by Jordaina Sydney Robinson.

Edited by Lourdes Venard

Cover design by Design for Writers

For Diane.

For her support, enthusiasm and lack of judgement over my (ridiculous) rants.

Chapter One

“What about this one?” Petal, my teenage housemate, held up a lime green and sugary pink floral sundress that I wouldn’t be seen dead in. And since I was dead that literally applied.

“It doesn’t really suit my colouring. See?” I twirled a strand of my fire engine red hair around my finger and held it against the dress. “Why don’t you take it for Pam to try on?”

“You are so good at this!” Petal pushed her candy floss haze of blonde hair out of her young face and draped the bottom of the dress over the hanger so it wouldn’t drag on the floor. “Are you ready to try your things on?”

I grimaced at the swarm of people buzzing around the fitting rooms. I hated busy fitting rooms. The tiny cubicles with curtains that didn’t close properly. The mirrors that made you look fat in everything. The odour a mixture of a million different liberally applied perfumes, deodorant and feet. And now, a silent swarm of Ghosting Busters, the afterlife über police, hovering around to keep all us unruly dead folk in check. Or, more accurately, all us dead female folk since only one gender was permitted to shop at a time. On an independent level, where I firmly believed I should be allowed to choose who I socialised with, I was offended. On a superficial I-was-allowed-to-shop level I didn’t care.

“I think I might try them on upstairs,” I said, glancing up the escalators to the peaceful floor above. Would Oz notice? Who was I kidding? Of course Oz would notice.

“But how would we all see them?” Petal stuck out her bottom lip and inched toward the fitting rooms as if she could entice me to follow. When her subtle side-shuffle didn’t work, she walked back to me and spread her arms as if she were going to give me a hug. Instead, she grabbed the heap of clothes from my hands and backed up a few steps. “Come on.”

I spotted Oz still sitting on the cash desk not too far from the fitting rooms, head turned in my direction.

I pointed at the clothes Petal was holding and then upward, asking if I could try them on upstairs. He grinned at me, shook his head oh-so-slowly then jerked his thumb at the chaotic mess that was the fitting rooms.

“See! Even Oz wants to see what they look like,” Petal said and skipped off toward the changing rooms.

“No, Oz wants us all in one place,” I mumbled but followed her anyway. What else could I do? She had my clothes.

I’d been dead nearly two months and in that time I’d been involved in three murder sprees, shot, drugged and interrogated more times than I could remember. I’d also been assessed for how well I was adjusting. Which, since I kept finding dead bodies, had been shot, drugged and interrogated more times than I could remember, wasn’t all that well. And I’d managed it all with only one set of underwear. I’d had this conversation with Oz, my parole officer/jailer/guardian angel, earlier in the week and he had finally relented and booked us on the next available shopping trip.

Other than we had an allotted number of items I wasn’t entirely sure how the whole ghost shopping worked. When I’d asked Oz about it he’d been tight-lipped. I think the Bureau of Ghostly Affairs somehow switched the store cameras onto some sort of loop so when the security guards came in the next morning they didn’t find a video full of clothes flying around the place. As for the stock we were allowed to take, I figured the bureau assumed the stores would simply write it off as theft. Unless the GBs fiddled with the stock levels somehow. I didn’t know. I didn’t care. As long as I got to shop.

“Bridget!” Lucy waved her arms around trying to get our attention and nearly karate chopped a GB. Oblivious, she twirled and held her hands out to the side.

The hot pink body con dress she wore reached all the way down to the middle of her shins. It had a low crew neck and cap sleeves. She’d finally had the mass of hair extensions removed so her blunt, dark bob suited the dress.

“Looks amazing on you,” I said, giving her two thumbs up. Lucy was another of my housemates. She’d died in her mid-twenties, like me, but she’d been super athletic, unlike me, so pretty much everything looked good on her.

Lucy grinned. She spun back around and disappeared into the crowd of thirty or so women buzzing all over the fitting rooms. All of whom had armfuls of clothes and were in varying states of undress, as if the GBs and male parole officers were of no concern to them.

I was pretty sure they were all as limited as me in regards the number of items they could have, but you wouldn’t have known it the way they were loaded up.

In the middle of the melee Pam was zipping up a lilac sundress on someone I didn’t recognise. Pam was another housemate. I had five in total. Six if you counted Oz. Anna, my ex-adjustment companion now housemate, smoothed the wrinkles out of a black polo neck jersey dress that hugged her Barbie-esque proportions as she stood on the outskirts of the crowd. Her blonde hair hung like a curtain as she bent forward, which I was pretty sure was a calculated move to get some male attention. A couple of nearby GBs were covertly watching her until they realised Oz was not-so-covertly watching them.

Katie, half hidden behind a selection of scarves a good anti-social distance away, scowled at the whole fitting-room-o-fun. She was our other new housemate. Katie had once attempted to strangle Petal but it had been decided, by whoever decided these things, when she was released from a mental asylum after being exonerated of killing a bunch of people, she should return back home. She’d been living with us for three days and still hadn’t spoken. Even when asked a direct question. It was super weird. And super creepy.

“I didn’t think you were going to make it down here,” Oz called to me from his perch on the cash desk. His shorts, T-shirt and flip-flop combo gave the impression he was an oh-so-relaxed surfer dude but I was pretty sure he’d not slept in the three days since Katie moved back in. Of course, I was sleeping with Lucy, Pam and Petal squished up in my bed, with a chair shoved under the door handle so no one could sneak in and murder us in our beds, so it wasn’t like I could judge.

“I was making sure I had the right items,” I called back, smiling happily at the cluster of designer bags strewn around him. He’d let me visit the cosmetic department and the shoe department. I’d wrapped up my stolen items like the sales assistants did because I liked the feel of carrying all the posh bags around with me. It made me feel like I’d had a productive shopping trip. I had no clue why people stole things. They missed the best part.

“Finding things with elasticated waists can be so tricky.” Anna’s faux sympathetic voice carried across the open area of the fitting rooms. “I feel for you, hon.”

All activity at the fitting rooms stilled as everyone stared my way. Someone might as well have shouted “catfight!”.

Two girls near Anna, one heavily tattooed and the other with turquoise streaked black hair, whispered to each other. I very much had the impression they were betting on the victor. I briefly wondered what they were betting with and, if it was clothing items, whether I could bet on myself. I could totally take Anna if it meant a couple of extra clothing options.

“Bridget? Let’s go.” Petal brought me back to a reality where I wasn’t strangling Anna with her own hair. I followed her through the temporarily still swarm of women who were obviously disappointed at the lack of cat fighting.

We made it safely into the actual fitting rooms where a girl in her early twenties turned in a circle as she tried to do up the back of her dress in front of the huge mirrors. It was like watching a dog chase its tail. Petal nudged me and nodded in the girl’s direction.

“Help her,” Petal hissed, shrugging my clothes at me to show she didn’t have a free hand to help.

I hated it when people intruded on my fitting room experience—I liked to struggle with my own zips, but then she was blocking the aisle and I wanted to try my stuff on.

“Let me help.” I peered over her shoulder so she could see me in the mirror and gently nudged her forward so I could get past her when I’d zipped her up.

The girl spun to face me, her expression disturbingly eager. She made a long, high-pitched noise with several undulations that could possibly have been words.

I paused. “That’s nice.”

See, this was why I didn’t speak to strangers. It was like buying a packet of Revels—you never knew what you were going to get. The girl took a deep breath and opened her mouth again.

“I’m sorry. I talk a little fast when I’m excited. I would very much appreciate your help with the zip. I love these types of dresses but I always forget how awkward the back zips are. Maybe I should change my style.”

I stepped back to look at her. She was wearing a fitted olive sheath which gave her skinny frame some shape. It reached mid-shin and looked like there was no give in the material should she need to run. Funny how I’d considered that when I’d selected my items. But the look was ideal for her.

“No, this is perfect for you,” I told her and moved behind, brushing her thick auburn hair out of the way so I could zip her up. “It really suits you. You should get it.”

“Do you think?” she asked and turned around when she was zipped in, smoothing the lower half of the dress over.

“Absolutely. You might want to try a smaller size, though,” I said and pinched the extra material on the torso out to the side.

She turned back to face the wall of mirrors and did a side to side twist to check out her outfit. She met my eyes in the mirror. “I think you might be right. You’re Bridget, aren’t you? Petal’s housemate? I’m Olive.” She spun back around and stuck out her hand for me to shake. I scanned her face, desperately trying to find something memorable to tie her name to. This stuff never used to bother me when I’d been alive but since dying I’d learned small things, like remembering names, seemed to mean a lot to people.

“It’s really nice to meet you, Olive,” I said, stressing her name to myself and trying to imprint her face to my memory.

“I always wear something olive coloured, so you’ll remember.” Olive pointed at my face. “You have the same panicked look I get when I meet someone new and think I won’t remember them in a different setting.”

I frowned at her. “Then how did you know who I was?”

“Everyone knows who you are,” said a mountain of a woman as she strolled along the fitting room aisle toward us. The way she looked me up and down told me that hadn’t been a compliment. “And, without being rude, I’d prefer it if you refrained from having any contact with my wards. They don’t need to be fraternising with the likes of you.”

“I’m sorry. Did you say without being rude?” I asked. “Because I think your navigation was a little off.”

The woman smiled but it was more like an animal baring her teeth before a fight. “No, being rude would be me cursing in your face.”

I gave her a super fake laugh. “No, that wouldn’t be rude. That would be a mistake.”

“Haven’t you tried anything on yet?” Lucy asked as she walked into the fitting rooms, her attention jumping from me to the heap of clothes Petal was still holding, oblivious to what she’d walked in on. “You’re going to run out of time.”

“Yes, Bridget, let’s try your stuff on.” Petal walked along the aisle with all my clothes and ducked into a cubicle. I followed but only because I didn’t like the way Lucy had been eyeing my pile.

“It was nice to meet you, Bridget. I hope you don’t find any more dead bodies.” Olive waved at me, oblivious to the scowl from her parole officer.

“Why do people persist in saying that to me?” I asked Lucy, giving Olive a tight lipped smile over my shoulder.

“Because they’re stupid,” Lucy said with a shrug and then shoved me in the changing room as Petal came out and pulled the curtain closed behind me. Shockingly, it didn’t close the whole way.

“Have you guys all found stuff you want?” I asked while stripping out of my mauve jumpsuit. It was all I had. And since my Vocational Training Programme jumpsuit was white I was still wearing my old uniform around the house. I wasn’t supposed to be but it was that or walk around in my underwear. I had no other clothes and I simply couldn’t bring myself to wear white around the house.

“We’ve all found something,” Pam called through the curtain. “Lucy’s got a skintight tube thing—”

“It’s a dress,” Lucy interrupted with a snap in her tone that implied it wasn’t the first time she’d corrected Pam. “Bridget’s already seen and approved it.”

“Petal has a pretty skirt and she found me a lovely sundress,” Pam continued as if Lucy hadn’t spoken. “If you find something I was thinking of making a special tea so we could all get dressed up.”

“I like the sound of that, Pam,” I said as I stepped into the strappy forest green and purple jumpsuit. I had so little reason, or really no reason at all, to get dressed up in my regular afterlife, so a fancy tea sounded like fun. And I had makeup now. And heels.

I twirled in front of the narrow mirror trying to get a good look at my reflection. The jumpsuit had tapered legs with a drawstring waist and shoestring shoulder straps that multiplied into a criss-cross strappy back. Initially I’d been worried it was a little too much like my uniform, being a jumpsuit and all, but the colours, the palm leaf pattern, the fit, the everything were so much more flattering than the shapeless mauve sack of a uniform. I did a mini lunge inside the cubicle. Fashionable and practical. Should I be chased by a murderer, it wouldn’t hinder my escape. I tied the waist up, arranged the top and drew the curtain back.

“Well?” I asked as I stepped out.

“Oh, Bridget, you look amazing,” Pam gushed.

“Dibs.” Lucy pointed up and down my outfit. “Total dibs.”

“How about we let Bridget wear it a little first before you steal it, okay?” Pam suggested and Lucy made a noise that could’ve been agreement. Or not.

“Where’s Petal?” I asked. She’d been so keen on me trying stuff on so she could see and now she wasn’t here to pay me compliments.

Lucy shook her head. “She’s on a ‘let’s include Katie and Anna in our lives’ kick.”

“Why?” Barefoot, I wandered into the open space where people were still twirling in front of the mirror. Thankfully Olive’s parole officer had disappeared, probably to skin some poor animal with her teeth. I stole a quick glance at myself while scanning for Petal. The jumpsuit really did look good on me. I’d have to find a place to hide it from Lucy.

“She thinks we can help them,” Lucy said in a tone that implied she was both unwilling to help them and doubtful this was possible.

I looked between Pam and Lucy. “And I’m only learning about this now because …?”

“I didn’t realise you didn’t know,” Pam said.

“Oh, I like this!” Some random middle-aged blonde woman started pulling at my jumpsuit.

I knocked her hands off. “Me too. But I like it better when it’s not being pulled about.”

“Where did you find it?” she asked, completely undeterred. She put her hands on my shoulders and forcefully spun me around so she could check out the back and then spun me back to face her.

“It’s the last one,” I said, knocking her hands off me. Again.

“We’re the same size. I can borrow that. Let me try it on,” the woman said. It wasn’t a question and we were not the same size.

I arched an eyebrow and looked the lady over. “Yeah, that’s not happening.”

“I’ve missed mean Bridget,” Lucy whispered to Pam.

“Will you guard my stuff?” I asked Pam as Lucy began edging back along the aisle to my cubicle. Pam nodded and I headed out of the fitting rooms.

Katie hadn’t moved from her scarf hideout but now Petal was inching closer, pretending to browse the scarves. Oz was focused intently on something in the opposite direction. Which was weird since his murderee ward was trying to befriend his murderous ward. I followed his gaze and realised he was using a mirror to keep tabs on Katie and Petal without directly watching. Darn, that man was sneaky.

“This is nice.” Oz nodded to my outfit before his attention returned to his observation mirror.

“I know. That’s why I’m choosing it,” I said and was about to broach the subject of how to deal with the Petal/Katie situation when two black jumpsuited, black burglar masked, GBs moved to my left and blocked Oz’s view of his surveillance mirror.

“What’s up, Officers?” Oz asked and caught my eye while subtly jerking his head in the direction of Katie and Petal.

I moved to step away but one of the officers grabbed my wrist. “You should probably stay here.”

“And you should probably take your hand off my ward.” Oz spoke in the deceptively calm voice he used on me when I was in trouble. Which was all the time.

The GB relinquished my wrist and held up a hand. “Apologies. I’m Officer Treble. This is Officer Richards. We’ve had a complaint against one of your wards.”

Oz looked directly at me.

“I haven’t done anything,” I said. Oz tilted his head as he listened to his emotional radar to check whether I was telling the truth. Parole officers had a freakish/unnerving/downright inconvenient connection to their wards so they could keep track of our emotional well-being. Oz called it a useful tool for gauging adjustment. I called it a violation of my emotional privacy.

“Who’s the complaint against?” Oz asked.

Officer Treble looked at me. “Bridget Sway.”

“Whoa, I haven’t done anything!” I stepped back as if I could distance myself from the situation.

“Who’s the complainant?” Oz asked, holding his hand up to shush me.

“Parole Officer Janice Peaks.” Officer Treble handed a piece of paper to me but Oz intercepted it. “As this is Ms Sway’s first breach in this area we’re here to serve her with a warning, that’s all.”

Oz flipped the letter open, skimmed it, then waved the letter at them. “Are you guys kidding?”

The taller one of the two, Richards, shook his head. “Best keep your girls in line, Salier.”

“Maybe you should keep your condescension in line,” I retorted.

“Will this go on her permanent record?” Oz asked.

Officer Treble nodded. “For the next decade. But after that, as long as there have been no further infractions, it’ll be removed.”

Before either of us could respond, Officer Treble gave us a mock salute and walked away. Officer Richards fashioned his hand into a gun and fake shot me before following. I stared after him. In my first ever Ghostly Acclimatisation meeting, the mandatory nightly meetings all new ghosts had to attend to learn how to be ghosts, a GB had shown up to fake arrest someone and he’d done the same thing. I wondered if it was the same GB. They all had the same dark hair and average physical appearance so, with the uniforms and masks, it was hard to tell them apart. Which was kind of the point. Not that it would really matter if it was the same guy.

“Why do you find it so hard to stay out of trouble?” Oz asked as he tucked the letter in his pocket.

“Why? What does it say?”

“It doesn’t specify anything other than your attitude.”

“There’s nothing wrong with my attitude,” I snapped.

He arched an eyebrow at me. “Do you have anything else you want to try on?”

“Yes. A heap of stuff. Why?” I folded my arms, ready to throw a tantrum if he said I couldn’t. Yep, there was nothing wrong with my attitude.

“Maybe try them on in the fitting rooms upstairs,” Oz suggested.

“Can I?” I grabbed his arm in excitement and his lips kicked up at the corners. I was pretty sure it was the first hint of a smile I’d seen on his face in days.

“Just be careful, okay?”

“I’ll be disgustingly nice to all the mannequins,” I said, crossing my heart and backing away.

“Yeah, that’s what I’m worried about. The mannequins’ feelings,” Oz said.

I turned and scurried across the floor, grabbed up duplicates of what I’d left in the changing room as I went and headed up the stationary escalators before he could change his mind. Yes, I probably should’ve told my housemates but I was lost in thoughts of an empty fitting room. I’d try them on again when I got home anyway so they could see my choices then. I made it to the top of the escalators and sighed in delight when I realised where I was.

The underwear department.

I’d somehow managed to neglect that in my shopping experience so far, which was odd since that was what I needed most. I hung my outfits over a nearby fixture and Julie-Andrews-Sound-of-Music twirled in the centre of the floor.

I was lost in all the lace and straps and matchingness of it all, and wondering if I could sneak extras out under my clothes—suddenly shoplifting made so much sense—that I didn’t realise someone was behind me until they spoke.

Chapter Two

“That is simply not practical.” Charon, driver of The Bus of Death and my community service officer, leaned over my shoulder and reached out to examine the extremely lacy push-up bra I was drooling over.

“Really? You see this bra and that’s your first thought?” I stepped to the side so I could see him and the bra at the same time. It had been so long since I’d seen something so pretty I wasn’t willing to let it out of my sight.

He picked it up and stretched the straps. “The lace would itch.”

“But it’s so pretty.” I took it back off him and held the bra at arm’s length to admire it properly. I knew it would fit perfectly. Still, I wasn’t entirely sure I wanted to take it downstairs and add it to my to-be-approved pile since Oz would have to okay it. Which meant he’d have to see it and that felt weird somehow. Oddly, it didn’t bother me Charon seeing it.

Charon was slim but athletically built with short dark blond hair. He was dressed in his usual black suit, skinny black tie and white shirt. I realised, looking at him, I’d never seen him in anything but that suit.

“Are you shopping?” I asked before it registered that he couldn’t be because he was of the opposite of the currently shopping gender.

“These things look so uncomfortable.” Charon grimaced as he stretched the straps of a different bra. “Aren’t you limited on what you can have? Why not get a pack of three? These look a lot more comfortable.” Charon held up a three pack of T-shirt bras. They did look more comfortable than my lacy contraption and, really, he was right about me being limited in what I could have. Maybe the three pack would be the better option. And then I saw my beautiful lacy bra had a matching thong.

I reached for it and Charon slapped a pack of five, brightly patterned knickers in my hand. “No need to say thank you.”

I looked down at the pack. “And I’m thanking you for …?”

Charon gestured to the thong. “You wouldn’t even be able to tie your hair up with that.”

“These have days of the week on them,” I said as I examined the pack of knickers he’d handed me.

“Five items that count as one and educational.” Charon held two fingers up. “Practical times two.”

“There are seven days in a week. This pack only has five pairs. Do I go commando at the weekend?”

“Oh.” Charon took the pack back from me and flipped it over in his hands as if looking for an explanation for the missing two pairs.

“As much as I value your underwear shopping assistance is there any particular reason you’re helping to ruin the only shopping experience I’ve had in months?”

“What about these?” Charon handed me another pack of five.

I waved the pack in his face. “These have flamingos on them.”

“Flamingos are cool. Do you know that they change colour depending on what they eat?”

“Everyone knows that. Why are you here? And where’s the bus? Please say you’re shopping and you just turned up on the wrong gender assigned day.”

“Do you think I need to update my wardrobe?” Charon asked and I was pretty sure there was a little hurt in his question.

“No. That suit looks good on you. You know it does. I was asking because I was hoping it wasn’t work that brought you here.”

“So, you like the suit?”

I gave him a flat stare. “Yes. I like the suit. Is this visit work related?”

Charon smoothed his hands over his jacket as he looked down at himself. “I think maybe, now you’ve mentioned it, I should update it.”

I slapped Charon’s chest with the pack of flamingo knickers to get his attention. “Why are you here? Are you here to collect somebody? Is someone about to die?”

“Plenty of someones are about to die,” Charon said with an indifferent shrug. “It’s life, my little Bridget. Or, more accurately, death. Do you think I should go for navy? I feel like I should definitely wear a suit. Collecting the dead feels like a suit job. I don’t think people would be so willing to come with me if I dressed like your parole officer. Although that would be nice in the summer.”

“What do you mean plenty of someones? Plenty of someones here? In this store?”

Charon angled his head to the side as he looked toward the street and sighed. “Damn it. When whoever is going to kick it kicks it, would you be a doll and bring them out to me? I know you’re not on shift but I’ve got a rowdy bunch tonight. They’re going to have the doors off if I don’t get back.”

“What—no—if—who—” I stammered as I tried to form any sort of question that might get me an answer.

“Hey, what about ducks and bunnies?” Charon threw me another five pack of knickers. By the time I’d caught it he’d disappeared.

All I could think was that Katie had snapped, returned to her murderous ways and was about to beat the entire population of the fitting rooms to death with a coat hanger. Or maybe she’d snap it in half and stab everyone. Or maybe she’d start shooting people with a tagging gun.

Still gripping the packet knickers, I tiptoe ran to the escalators. I was about to scurry down them when, through the open column for the escalators, I noticed movement on the floor above. The menswear floor.

Maybe Katie was dragging people up there one by one to strangle them with boxer shorts. Or ties. Katie would be strangling them with ties. Ties would have been the more logical choice of strangulation weapon. I hesitated. Down or up?

Charon hadn’t indicated which floor he was collecting from, but then it was unlikely someone would try and murder someone else in the middle of that mess of people at the fitting rooms. Tensions could run high when shopping fever hit but there were plenty of people at the fitting rooms to stop that and I was sure I’d seen something on the menswear floor.

Decision made, I darted around the down escalator and climbed the up one instead, wincing as the ridges of the metal steps dug into my feet.

Peeking above the hand rail I scanned the floor for movement. Nothing. I darted to a floor fixture filled with jumpers and surveyed the floor again. Moonlight shone in through the front windows of the store giving enough light to see. But there was nothing to see.

Maybe I’d made the wrong call. Maybe the murder was taking place downstairs. Maybe it wasn’t even a murder. Maybe someone tripped and strangled themselves on a fitting room curtain.

The sound of a door creaking open pulled me out of all my murderous maybes. A slanted oblong of light stretched across the ceiling. I peered around the jumpers in its direction to see a shadow disappear through the set of double doors on the far side of the floor. I darted out from behind my fixture to follow.

I was halfway across the floor before sanity kicked in and slowed my progress. What was I doing? Chasing down a shadowy figure? In the dark? After Charon has visited? I might as well just bash my own head in and save the killer the trouble. The smartest thing to do would be to go and tell Oz. He might not let me come back up but then I wouldn’t have my head bashed in either.

Then again, there was no reason to believe there was anything wrong. Except Charon was waiting outside for his fare and I did not want to be the girl who kept finding dead bodies. That wasn’t how I wanted to spend my evening. I had underwear to steal, damn it. I turned around to head back to the lingerie section and found myself staring into a familiar face.

“Boo!” Jeremy Thomas Leith, smug psychic, blackmailer of the dead, all round not nice guy, leaned on a jumper-filler floor fixture.

I jumped. I might’ve even squealed, which I was annoyed with myself about. Jeremy laughed and ran a hand through his short, slicked back hair. Surely, that would get all gel gunk on his hand. It didn’t even look cool when he did it.

“I was thinking about you, Bridget, only the other day.”

“I’m sure that was lovely for you.” I backed up and walked along an adjacent aisle so I could get back to the escalators without getting too close to him. I was telling Oz about Jeremy immediately. This was not coming back on me in any way. At all.

Jeremy darted left and stood in front of me. “Come on, now, sweetheart, there’s no need for that attitude, is there? I realise that we didn’t leave our relationship on the best of terms but maybe we can help each other.”

When he said that we hadn’t left our relationship on “the best of terms” what he meant was he’d tried to summon me and I’d allowed him to because it pulled Sabrina, my best friend, and I out of a spot of bother. And then I’d refused to do what he’d summoned me for and he’d gotten his knickers in a twist about it.

“How about this for a mutually beneficial arrangement. You help me by getting out of my way. Then I’ll help you by not beating you over the head with something heavy,” I asked. Seemed like a fair trade to me.

Jeremy wagged his finger at me and leaned on another fixture. “You’re funny. I’ve always liked that about you.”

“Great.” I turned and headed in the direction of the employee stairs. Looked like I was going to follow the shadowy shadow after all. And if I walked really quickly maybe I’d find out who it was.

“Now, let’s not be hasty.” Jeremy scurried around in front of me. When he realised I wasn’t going to walk through him he relaxed back and once again propped himself up against a fixture. I was beginning to doubt his ability to hold his own weight. “I’m happy to help you get a message to your family. Help them move on from your untimely demise.”

“Yeah, I don’t think my family, or you, would benefit from that.” I was pretty sure if he showed up on my mam’s doorstep and told her I was happy and I’d moved on he’d take a frying pan to the face. And if my dad happened to be there? Well, I was pretty sure Jeremy would find himself on my side of the mortal divide. If I could make sure my dad wasn’t in, because I didn’t want Jeremy on my plane of existence, maybe it would be worth sending him to my mam. Although maybe that was a bit unfair to her.

“How about you tell me how I can help you?” Jeremy said and darted in front of me again as I tried to walk down a different aisle. I was going to loop the floor at this rate. It was such a shame exercise didn’t count anymore.

“Why are you suddenly so desperate for me to help you?”

Jeremy laughed. “I’m not desperate. I like to have my bases covered. And there’s always space on my team for smart girls.”

I arched an eyebrow at him. “Is that right?”

“Absolutely, sweetheart. So how about it? I can make it really worth your while. Isn’t there something that you want?”

“The only thing I want from you is your absence in my life.”

“Then maybe you know someone else who would be interested? Or Emma. Can you put me back in touch with Emma? She was great.” A wistful expression came across his face when he mentioned her.

“Emma?” I asked.

“Yes. She was my ghost contact. You nearly caught her in my dressing room a few times. She stopped visiting a while ago. I want to check she’s okay.” The way Jeremy said it I assumed he meant he wanted to resume their informative relationship. He didn’t care about her well-being. “I don’t have her last name but it can’t be that hard to find her, right? The afterlife’s not like the real world, is it?”

I laughed in his face. “No, it’s nothing like the alive world.”

Jeremy hesitated, obviously not getting the joke. “Right … So, can you find her for me?”

“I probably could but I won’t.”

“Fine.” Jeremy exhaled heavily through his nose. He reminded me of a snorting rhino. A weedy rhino. “I’ll find her on my own.”

I was about to make a quip about how he was a medium and that was technically his bread and butter but all his chest heaving drew my attention to the weird necklace he was wearing. He did his rhino snort again and I leaned forward to get a better look. Why would he be wearing it over his shirt? Was it some sort of dead amulet thing?

“What are you looking at?” Jeremy rubbed his chest where the medallion was.

It took me a second to work out what was happening. I stared at him, my mouth hanging open.

He tutted. “That is not a good look on you.”

I glanced to the floor fixture, then back to his chest. I stepped forward and gave his shoulder a gentle shove.

“Hey!” He stumbled back a step. And then the rest of the metal arm, and all the jumpers it held, protruded through his chest.

He swiped at it with both hands but they went straight through the metal arm and the jumpers. Jeremy looked up at me, terror all over his face as he realised what that meant. And then he screamed.

Chapter Three

“What did you do to me!” Jeremy swiped at the knitwear and watched as his hands flew through them without any resistance. “What did you do!”

“Don’t you remember what happened to you?” I asked, backing up and scanning the floor for Jeremy’s dead body. How was he able to lean on the fixtures two seconds ago and not now? Because he didn’t know he was dead when he was leaning on them? But he didn’t know he was dead when he backed up into one either. I reached out and tapped it. It felt solid to me. So how was it solid to him then suddenly not anymore? I hated the lack of absolutes in the afterlife.

“I came here to meet someone and then … and then …” Jeremy’s expression turned slack. He stopped batting at the clothes and spun in a circle as he surveyed the floor. He made it through three full rotations without saying anything until he faced me again. He jabbed an accusing finger in my direction. “And then you!”

“You don’t remember anything?” I wasn’t sure I should’ve been asking. Edith, my outlaw ghost friend who looked like Anjelica Huston with a wonky fringe, had once told me that if someone was murdered it didn’t end well for them if they remembered the specifics of their death. And by “didn’t end well” she meant they went crazy. Like, homicidal crazy. I didn’t particularly like Jeremy but that didn’t mean I wished a homicidal-inducing mental breakdown on him. Or more accurately me because, chances were, if he started killing people it would somehow be me that found the bodies.

“I remember you!” Jeremy’s jabbing finger turned into a side-to-side hand waving motion. He bent forward at the waist, as if he really didn’t want to get that close to me, while wafting his hand out in my direction trying to touch me. With half a foot left to go before he sexually assaulted me I slapped his hand away. He gasped, clutched his hand to his chest, then crumpled up onto the floor and began to cry.

I sighed. Oz was going to kill me. Although, he did send me up here so maybe everything would be okay. Reluctantly, I backed up a few steps and continued to look for Jeremy’s body. I found it sprawled behind a table cover in neatly folded, fine knit jumpers. With a broken coat hanger jutting out of his neck.

“Well, isn’t that exciting?” I mumbled and edged back to keep my bare feet away from the spreading pool of blood.

“I’m not sure ‘exciting’ is the best description.” Tommy spoke from over my shoulder and made me jump.

“Do not sneak up on a gal when she’s hovering over a corpse,” I snapped at him. “It’s poor dead body finding etiquette.”

“You’re standing over a dead body on a barely lit, creepy department floor with numerous places for the killer to hide. You should be more aware of your surroundings.” It wasn’t an actual rebuke but it still felt like one. Especially since he had a point.

“What are you doing here? Is it time to change jobs again?” I couldn’t quite quash the eagerness in my voice.

I’d recently been placed in the Vocational Training Programme, which meant you did every job the afterlife had to offer for a short period of time. Tommy was supposedly the coordinator for that project, but I suspected he was a lot more as well. Like, part of some super-secret police force, since he kept popping up at times like this. And because, in his late fifties, with a kind face and a full head of greying hair, he looked like the most trustworthy person around. You just couldn’t trust people who looked trustworthy.

Tommy laughed. “You don’t like your current assignment?”

“No.” I spoke with exaggerated clarity. I’d been working in Afterlife Arrivals for three days and I was ready for a change. No, desperate for a change.

“It can’t be that bad,” Tommy said.

“It is. And if you’re not here to take me to a different job, why are you here? And where are the police and GBs?” I pointed to Jeremy’s body. “Hello. Dead guy.”

“It’s a livie death. The police have no jurisdiction and the GBs haven’t been notified yet.”

“Not been notified? They’re downstairs. I can notify them.”

Tommy inclined his head. “You could …”

“Wait. If they’ve not been notified how are you here? Is this your job? Your super-secret police job that is so super secret no one even knows about?”

Tommy nodded. “Yes, in addition to being a coordinator with the VTP, I’m also a member of the super-secret police force that is responsible for investigating ghost-induced livie deaths.”

I counted my points off on my fingers. “One: There’s no need for that attitude. Two: Tell me more about this super-secret police force that is responsible for investigating ghost-induced livie deaths.” A livie was what us dead folk called the alive folk.

Tommy gave me an indulgent smile. “I know you know I was kidding.”

I squinted at him, “Do I, though?”

“Bridge, he’s a dead livie. A dead alive person. His alive dead body is the responsibility of the livie police. And his alive death only falls initially under GB jurisdiction because afterlife citizens may have come into contact with him since his alive death occurred during an afterlife excursion. He’ll become the full responsibility of the GBs if a ghost was involved in his death. You know this is nothing to do with me.” Tommy used a cajoling tone, like one you’d use to convince a child that their vegetables tasted extra nice because you made them into a face on their plate.

“Then what are you doing here, Mr VTP coordinator?”

Tommy shrugged and gestured to our surroundings. “Shopping. Same as you.”

“I know that’s not true because girls and boys aren’t allowed to shop at the same time. Apparently, it’s inappropriate.”

“Inappropriate? Like, maybe letting a newly dead ghost run around a department store where people are trying to shop?” Tommy asked, with a nod over my shoulder at Jeremy. “Shouldn’t you hold him until Charon gets here to collect him?”

I turned to see Jeremy tripping over himself to get away from us. Or, more accurately, me. Throwing numerous backward glances my way, he stumbled across the floor, dodging clothing fixtures as he headed for the escalators.

I sighed. “Great.”

Abandoning Tommy and Jeremy’s dead body I tiptoe darted for the escalators. I’d made it down one flight, the metal ridges digging into my bare feet, when I realised I was never going to catch him. Jeremy was already at the bottom of the escalators and had that whole spurred-on-by-terror type of speed going on. And then I realised he was running in the direction of the fitting rooms.

“Guys? Get him!” I yelled to my housemates as I hobbled down the last few stairs.

Everyone at the fitting rooms, including my housemates, turned to stare at me. And then their collective attention jumped to the hysterical man running, full speed, toward them. Pam, Petal and Lucy didn’t ask any questions. They didn’t hesitate. They darted out of the fitting room foyer area and tackled him just as he was sprinting past. Petal and Lucy launched on his back and brought him to the floor with a thud while Pam circled around in front of him, ready to tackle him again in case he were to somehow get free.

“Get off me!” Jeremy bucked, trying to dislodge them. Lucy sat on his lower back while Petal arranged her weight on his shoulders.

Oz caught up with me when I was still several feet away from the bucking dead psychic. “I thought you promised to stay out of trouble not less than two minutes ago.”

“No, I promised not to hurt the mannequins’ feelings.” I pointed at Jeremy as we came to a halt by his feet. “Not a mannequin. I didn’t hurt his feelings. And totally not my fault.”

“My feelings?” Jeremy shrieked, twisting, trying to look at me. “You killed me!”

“How does this keep happening?” Oz asked.

“Hey, you told me to go upstairs,” I said, putting the blame right back on Oz. He gave me a flat stare. Yeah, I hadn’t thought that was going to fly but it’d been worth a shot.

Richards strolled over from the fitting room area. “Salier, why are your wards sitting on this man’s back? And where did he come from?”

“I don’t know yet. Ladies?” Oz beckoned my housemates to him.

“But he might escape,” Petal said.

“What’s going on?” Treble asked, heading toward us from the back of the store, caution in his every move as he took in the scene.

“I don’t know yet,” Richards called back.

“Officer Salier, please remove your wards from this man’s back.” Treble pointed to Petal and Lucy, who were still pinning a suddenly still Jeremy to the ground.

“Hey! What’s going on here?” Another GB approached from the direction of the escalators.

I looked around at the three GBs now surrounding us. “You guys are like buses. None when you need one and then three come at once.”

Treble pointed at me. “That’ll be the attitude you received the warning for.”

I nodded. “Yeah, people don’t seem to like hearing the truth.”

Oz clapped to get everyone’s attention. “Ladies, will you get off this man’s back, please?”

“He could escape, though,” Petal said again.

“What does she mean escape?” Richards asked.

“Is there a problem?” yet another GB shouted from across the floor, waving to us.

“Yeah. You better come over here,” the unnamed GB shouted to the other unnamed GB.

“Four of you? Seriously?” I muttered.

“Enough,” Oz whispered to me before silently beckoning Lucy, Petal and Pam to us. They shuffled away from Jeremy without further complaint.

Jeremy must’ve thought that meant his sprint for freedom was back on the cards because he sprang to his feet and darted forward. Treble stepped in his path. Jeremy darted left but Treble stepped with him.

“Don’t,” Treble warned.

Jeremy ignored him and tried dash past on Treble’s other side. One of the unnamed GBs grabbed Jeremy’s flailing arm and, with one hand on his shoulder, bent Jeremy’s arm up his back to restrain him.

“No! No! Let me go! She’s going to kill me. Again! Don’t let her near me!” Jeremy shrieked and wriggled in the GB’s hold. “She killed me! She killed me!”

A low murmur started up at the fitting room. Oz stepped slightly in front of me while ushering Petal, Lucy and Pam behind him.

“Did you kill him?” Treble asked.

“No, she didn’t,” Oz said before I could respond. Which was probably just as well because my response wouldn’t have been so polite.

“Then why is he saying she did?” Richards asked, taking possession of Jeremy from the unnamed GB.

“He died while I was looking at the underwear,” I explained.

“He died? Now? In the store?” Oz asked and I nodded.

“A livie was in the store? He’s a dead livie?” asked Treble, his attention jumping to the fitting room where the murmuring had progressed to high-pitched chatter.

Richards pointed to the two unnamed GBs. “Begin the evacuation process.”

The unnamed GBs nodded. One tunnelled away while the other headed over to the fitting rooms, clapping to get everyone’s attention. “Everyone: Drop everything and find your parole officer. Parole officers: Tunnel to evacuation point A.”

“Not you,” Treble told Oz as everyone else dropped everything and tunnelled. “Collect up your wards. We’re taking you all to the station.”

I turned to Oz but gestured to Jeremy. “He can’t go to the station. I have to take him outside.”

“No!” Jeremy shrieked. “Don’t let her take me! Don’t let her take me!”

“Why?” Oz asked, completely ignoring Jeremy’s protests.

“Calm down. She’s not taking you anywhere,” Treble said to Jeremy and then turned back to Oz. “Collect up your wards, Officer Salier.”

“I have to take him outside,” I said to Oz again. “His transport is waiting.” I wasn’t sure what would happen if Jeremy went to the station instead of to Charon but I was sure I didn’t want to find out. Charon was not a person you wanted as an enemy. I mean, he drove The Bus of Death, for goodness’ sake. And he’d technically made me temporarily responsible for Jeremy.

“Officer Salier—”

“Officer Treble,” Oz interrupted. “I understand that this is a confusing situation but my ward is currently responsible for this man. He is in her care until she hands him off to the next responsible person in this chain of custody. And that’s not you. So you need to let her do her job.”

“And quickly,” I added. Charon wasn’t all that patient either and I did not want to be left with Jeremy while Charon collected his other passengers. Maybe he’d come back for Jeremy today. Maybe he wouldn’t to teach me a lesson about punctuality. Who knew?

“He’s in our custody,” Officer Richards said.

“Okay. You take him to the front of the store. Discuss custody with the person waiting for him.” How did they not remember what happened when someone died? “If he says it’s okay for you to keep Jeremy, then you can keep him. I won’t argue past that.”

“I know you don’t understand but you need to take him,” Oz added. I assumed he could feel my increasing anxiety through our bond. I didn’t want my housemates to see Charon come in and obliterate a couple of GBs. We had enough sleepless nights in our house as it was.

Richards and Treble exchanged a glance. Richards shrugged. “You’re coming with us, Salier. Your wards will wait here for us to get back.”

Oz nodded. “Okay.”

“Wait.” I ran to the cash desk and rooted through the drawers. I found a roll of sale stickers and scribbled a couple of messages on them.

“I thought you said we had to be quick?” Treble asked as I scurried back over.

“You really do,” I said and stuck the three sale stickers on Oz’s chest. He accepted them without protest but pulled his T-shirt out so he could read them upside down. I made a sweeping motion toward the front of the store. “Now you can go.”

Treble frowned at Oz’s chest and read the notes on the stickers aloud. “Bridget likes me. Do not damage me. Bridget will be very upset.”

“Do we need some of those?” Richards asked.

I shook my head. “Nope.”

“Stay here. Keep everyone here,” Oz said to me and I nodded.

“What was that about?” Pam asked as Oz, the two GBs and a screaming Jeremy headed for the front of the store.

I shrugged. “Something and nothing.”

“Did you kill that guy, Bridge?” Lucy asked. “I’d understand if you did. He was annoying.”

“No, Lucy,” Petal snapped, putting an arm around my shoulders. “Bridget did not kill that man.”

“Bridget, hon, you can’t keep killing people because life isn’t going your way,” Anna said as she neatly rolled several items and placed them in her bag.

“Bridget hasn’t killed anyone,” Petal repeated.

“Okay, hon, if you say so.” Anna pulled a faux sympathetic face then resumed collecting up all the clothes from around the fitting rooms and neatly stashing them away. Surely, there was no way she was going to be able to keep all that.

“So what happened?” Petal asked, sitting cross-legged in front of me and tugging on my hand to bring me to the floor as well.

“Nothing. I found him upstairs while I was looking for some underwear,” I said as I sat down next to her, pleased that my new outfit had enough give to be able to do that comfortably.

“I never took you for a bunny and duck type of girl,” Lucy said, kneeling next to Petal and plucking the packs of knickers I’d somehow managed to keep hold of from my hands. She waved the flamingo print pack at me. “Ah, now flamingos. I can see you in flamingo print.”

“Do these have the days of the week on?” Pam asked, taking the other pack from Lucy’s hands.

“But there are only five pairs. What do you do on the weekend?” Petal asked.

I gestured to her with an open palm. “That’s what I said.”

“To who?” Lucy asked.

“What?” My brain had briefly returned to the fancy underwear I so nearly had owned.

“That’s what you said to who?” Pam repeated.

“Oh. To … myself.” They didn’t know about my community service. Well, they knew that I had to do it but they didn’t know I was a conductor on The Bus of Death. I didn’t want everyone freaking out and I had some sort of silencing spell-type-deal on it so I couldn’t really talk about it anyway.

Petal smiled at me. “I talk to myself.”

“That’s because you’re simple-minded, hon,” Anna said.

“No one’s talking to you, Anna. Do you know why?” I asked. “Because no one likes you.”

Petal tapped my knee. “That’s not nice, Bridget. And not entirely true. We don’t know Anna that well, yet.”

“I know her fine. I’m fairly sure I’m qualified to say I don’t like her,” I said.

“Now, Bridget, what did I just say?” Petal asked and then called to Anna, who was still rolling up clothes. “Anna, come over here and sit with us.”

“Sitting on the floor is uncouth, hon,” Anna said in an apologetic, but somehow still mean, tone.

“Well, stealing is illegal but you don’t seem to have a problem with that,” I called back. Even though we were technically all stealing.

“We’re trying to be inclusive, stupid. So come over here. Sit on your pile of stolen clothes if you want, but get over here.” Lucy pointed to the empty space next to her.

Anna grumbled but she picked up her two bags of clothes and stalked over to us.

“That goes for you too, Katie …” Pam’s sentence trailed off as she scanned the empty fitting room area. “Where’s Katie?”

“You let the crazy murderer escape and I’m stupid, hon?” Anna huffed at Lucy as she sat down next to us.

“Why can’t I just have an easy afterlife,” I mumbled. I was pretty sure Oz had made me unofficially responsible for everyone which meant I was getting the blame for this. “We need to find her.”

“Let’s split up.” Pam suggested.

“That’s the worst idea ever. Don’t you watch horror films?” Lucy asked.

“Lucy, you can check the back of this floor,” Pam directed, ignoring Lucy’s comment. “I’ll take the right, Anna will take the left—”

Anna shook her head. “Oh, no. This isn’t my job. I’m not chasing down a crazed murderer. I’ve just sat down. And, heaven forbid but I agree with Lucy.”

“Help or when Oz comes back we’ll tell him you let Katie escape,” I said.

“Anna will take the left,” Pam repeated in a tone of authority I didn’t think I’d ever heard her use before. Anna pouted and flipped her hair but I was pretty sure she’d do it. “Bridget can check upstairs in case Katie took a fancy to those packet knickers and Petal can stay here in case she comes back.”

Once everyone was back on their feet Pam positioned Petal in the centre of the aisle near the fitting rooms. Petal would be clearly visible from all directions. No one said it was in case Katie tried to jump out and murder Petal again but I think it was clear.

“Why does she get to stay here?” Anna asked, proving that she was incapable of thinking about anyone other than herself for even a moment.

“She has better eyesight so she can call out directions if she sees something,” Pam said.

“Also, she’s more welcoming than you. I wouldn’t come back here if I saw you waiting for me,” I said.

Anna gave me a sympathetic look. “That’s because you’re insecure, hon,”

I turned to Petal. “Why are we trying to be inclusive?”

Pam shushed me and then glanced around our group. “Everyone has their assignments. Let’s get to it.”

I headed to the escalators and tiptoed up them, still in my bare feet. I made it to the top and surveyed the floor. My eyes snagged on the lingerie section. I still needed underwear. And that lacy set had been so pretty. I could look for Katie while picking out a few nice sets for myself. And if Anna was taking two huge carrier bags full of stuff, surely Oz would let me get away with a couple of underwear sets. My need was greater.

I sneaked over and thumbed through the bras until I had my size. I was debating thong versus shorts when movement on the far side of the floor caught my eye. I closed them quickly. If someone else was being murdered I definitely didn’t want to know. And then I realised that closing my eyes would hide them from me, not me from them. So I opened them again and peered around the fixture. If someone was being murdered it was probably best if I saw who did it. Maybe it would be the same person who killed Jeremy and I could go and give them a piece of my mind for depositing him on my plane of existence. Or just find out their identity and tell someone else so they could deal with it.

I could see the top of two heads just above clothing fixtures as if they were bending over Jeremy’s body. And then one of them helpfully stood up. It was Tommy. Tommy was still at the store? And why had he been here in the first place? If it wasn’t to do with the VTP then why? And why had he popped up right by Jeremy’s body? When I’d asked he’d distracted me with the fleeing Jeremy. I should’ve let Jeremy go and stayed to question Tommy. I was going get it in the neck from Sabrina for this.

Maybe Tommy really was part of a super-secret police force. He turned in my direction and I ducked down behind the bras. I peeked to the side to see him talking to someone who was still bent over. The way Tommy was checking around it just did not look like whatever they were doing was on the up and up.

And then the person he was talking to stood up. The back of the figure looked familiar. And then the figure turned around. “Edith?”

Chapter Four

“This is so creepy,” Lucy breathed as she looked around evacuation point A.

Evacuation point A had turned out to be the attic floor of the department store. It was about the size of a football field with tall, uncovered windows and filled with an army of mannequins in varying states of injury. The moonlight spilled down onto the warped floorboards in window shaped shards that divided the room up into three. If I’d been alive I definitely would not have come up here.

We’d all made it back to Petal, empty-handed, and in time to see Oz storming toward us with a sullen looking Katie in tow. If it had been anyone else I’d have guessed they’d argued but she always looked like that so, really, who knew? I did notice that I received an extra scowly scowl from him. Which I took to mean he was unhappy that I’d let Katie wander off, though I wasn’t entirely sure how it was my fault, or my responsibility, to look after her. Especially since Oz was always telling me he was responsible for me.

Apart from Katie, Oz had returned alone. As in, without his GB escort. I didn’t question scowly Oz about it since he was busy being scowly. And because I’d likely get better answers from Charon anyway. Oz had made us all hold hands so he could tunnel us to evacuation point A together and then, after issuing what I felt had been excessively harsh directions about staying exactly where we were, he’d headed over to check in with one of the GBs.

He was currently talking to Tarik, a short Indian guy with a solemn expression, and the huge woman from the changing room. I assumed that was Janice Peaks and Oz was trying to straighten out the complaint she’d made about me. Mainly because her face had wrinkled up like a prune and she hadn’t stopped frowning at me since he’d gone over.

“Why do you think they chose this as the evacuation point?” Petal whispered in my ear, clinging on to my arm as if I were her comfort toy.

“I’ve no idea.” As far as I was concerned the point of an evacuation was usually to get out of that building not just move to another part of.

“Article three-G-H-seven, paragraph four, hon,” Anna said. “In the event of suspected illegal fraternisation with the living during a bureau designated activity all participants are to be moved to a contained section of that space until blame can be determined and assigned.”

“Blame?” Petal twisted to face me, her grip tightening on my arm.

“No one’s blaming anyone for anything,” Pam reassured Petal, patting her shoulder.

“That’s right,” Anna agreed and then gestured to the centre of the room. “It’s more likely they’re gathering evidence against Bridget before they officially blame her, hon.”

“Thanks for the input, Anna. It’s always appreciated,” I said.

“Always happy to help the ignorant, hon.” Anna flipped her hair at me and began sorting through her bags.

The GBs from the shopping trip had multiplied to what I thought was an unnecessary level. Six of them milled around the room while another six paired up for questioning. They’d set up three chairs in a line in the centre of the room, evenly spaced out and situated in the window shaped oblongs of moonlight. It reminded me of those spy interrogations in movies. Where the suspect sits on the chair while a couple of torturers circle like sharks. There didn’t look to be much torturing going on but you wouldn’t have guessed from the jittery body language of the suspects or the circling of the GBs. Officer Leonard, who was overseeing the questioning, paced between each of three interrogation camps, pausing every so often.

“Are we investigating this?” Petal whispered in my right ear while staring at the questioning stations.

“I think we should,” Pam whispered in my left ear. “If Anna’s right about the blame thing then she’s also right that it’s going to land on Bridget too.”

“Why will it land on me? Just because I found him?” I asked.

“That and because you killed him,” Lucy added.

“We are not getting involved in this. I’m not getting involved in this. There’s nothing to investigate.” Even as I said it an image of Edith and Tommy hovering over Jeremy’s body floated through my mind.

Petal stood in front of me. “There’s a dead man.”

“Yes, but he’s not our dead man,” I insisted.

Anna spoke from behind me. “He is now you’ve made him our dead man, hon.”

“How did I make him your dead man?” I asked, twisting around to face Anna.

Anna shrugged. “You killed him.”

“I’ll take Harriet and the girls to the right. She and I are at the academy together so it won’t look weird if I go and talk to her. Ask her what she knows,” Lucy said.

Pam blatantly pointed to a group of women to the left. “Okay, I’m going to go and see Yvonne. We’re in the same GA group.”

“I’ll try those guys over in the right corner in the tin foil blankets. I can pretend I’m freaked out by it all too,” Petal suggested. “Bridget, I think you should go and talk to Officer Leonard. He likes you. Maybe you could get some information out of him.”

“Well, I’m not getting involved,” Anna said.

“That’s a very selfish way to think, Anna,” Petal reprimanded her softly.

“No. I’m choking on the words but, in this instance, Anna’s right. We shouldn’t get involved in this. None of us. Someone died and it’s terrible. Mainly because now he’s on our plane of existence, but that doesn’t mean we have to work out who killed him. This is nothing to do with us.” Even if I was incredibly curious about why Tommy and Edith were examining Jeremy before the GBs got there. I could straight up ask Edith about that, though.

“It has everything to do with us,” Pam exclaimed. “He thinks you killed him. You’re the prime suspect.”

“And yet, for some reason, no one is questioning me,” I pointed out. And then crouched down to touched the wooden floorboards.

Anna gave me a pitying look. “I’ve told you, hon, they’re compiling their evidence.”

“If we don’t find out who killed him, the GBs will lock you away forever,” Petal added.

“No. That won’t happen. I’ve done nothing wrong. This time, this time, I refuse to get involved. Our lives are not in jeopardy. We’re not suspected of this murder. We have absolutely no reason to investigate this.”

Lucy curled her lip in disgust. “Sabrina would be so disappointed in you.”

I gave Lucy a flat stare. “And yet somehow I’ll find the strength to carry on.”

“What if whoever killed the dead guy comes after us?” Petal asked.

“Why would he come after us?” I asked.

“Well …” Petal shook her head as if it would shake a good excuse out of her mouth.

“Because they’ve already killed someone and that means that they’re crazy. Who knows what crazy people will do,” Pam offered.

Petal pointed to Pam. “What she said.”

“And when people die around you usually whoever killed them tries to kill you at some point so we’re doing you a favour because we don’t want you to die,” Lucy added.

Petal pointed to Lucy. “And what she said.”

“Your plan has one huge flaw,” I said, looking around at my three wannabe Sherlock Holmeses. “People usually try to kill me because I’m involved in the investigation. So, how about this time we don’t get involved in the investigation and then no one will try and kill me?”

“I’m not getting involved, hon,” Anna repeated.

“Or maybe the killer will think that you’re involved in the investigation because you’re always involved in the investigation and they won’t believe that you’ve abstained this time, so they try and kill you anyway because they think you’re covert investigating,” Petal pointed out. “So, really, you have no choice but to investigate and save yourself.”

“What she said,” Pam and Lucy spoke in unison and both pointed to Petal.

“Okay. No one is spending any more time with Sabrina,” I said, looking around at them to drive my point home. “No one.”

“So we can investigate?” Petal asked, her eyes wide and hopeful.

I rolled the word around my mouth to make it as clear as possible. “No.”

“I’m not investigating, hon,” Anna said again.

“But I don’t want you to die,” Petal whined and threw her arms around me.

“It’s okay, Petal. We don’t need Bridget’s permission,” Pam said, tugging Petal away.

“She’s not good at investigating, anyway,” Lucy added. “I mean, look at how many times she’s nearly been killed. She’ll only slow us down.”

“I agree. Bridget is inept but I’m still not getting involved in this,” Anna repeated.

Pam reached her hand, palm down, in front of me. Petal reached over and placed her hand on top of it and then Lucy reached over and placed her hand on top of Petal’s. They all looked to me expectantly. Pam jiggled her hand, making everyone’s hands on top jiggle.

“Did you miss the point where I said no?” I asked and then Pam reached out and placed my hand on top of theirs. Petal grabbed Anna’s hand and placed it on top. Anna let her. Nothing happened.

“Please, Bridget.” Petal blinked her huge blue eyes at me. “I don’t want you to be murdered.”

“Fine,” I drew the word out on an extra heavy sigh. Sabrina would likely con me into investigating anyway. “Do you guys have a slogan or something?”

“We thought you would,” Lucy said.

“This was your idea. Why would I have a slogan?” I asked.

“Don’t you and Sabrina do this before you decide to solve murders?” Pam asked.

I shook my head. “No, I’m usually too busy trying to explain to Sabrina why we shouldn’t be investigating.”

“Okay, think of a slogan,” Lucy said.

“Let’s go solve a murder and not get killed,” I offered.

Lucy took her hand back and threw me a dirty look. “Well, that was terrible.”

“I don’t feel enthused to solve this crime at all,” Pam said.

“Me either,” said Anna.

“Well, maybe we shouldn’t then,” I said.

“We’ll work on it.” Pam patted me on the arm and then nudged Petal and Lucy off toward their respective targets.

“I’m still not helping,” Anna informed me as she walked away.

I nodded. “Okay.”

I watched them go. They were not subtle people. I doubted there was much I could say that would convince them not to do this, so then I needed to make them safer. They still had the stun guns Sabrina had given them from when Katie escaped, but maybe they needed more practical physical self-defence skills. I glanced over at Oz, who was trying to watch all of us at the same time. His attention jumped from Lucy to Pam to Petal to Anna and Katie and then to me. He raised his eyebrows in question. I shrugged and moved, probably not so subtly, out of his line of sight to hide behind a group of mannequins.

“Are you hiding from someone?” Officer Leonard asked as he moved to stand beside me, both of us out of Oz’s sight. I adjusted my fringe and pretended I hadn’t heard him. “Surely, you’re not still upset with me.”

I glanced at him from the corner of my eye. “Why would I be upset with you? It’s not like you lied to me about one of my housemates being dead, then admitted me to a mental institution so you could use me to bait out a killer, which I nearly died doing.”

Officer Leonard inclined his head. “I do remember telling you that I was grateful for your help.”

I scoffed. “You didn’t even bring me ice cream. How grateful can you be?”

Officer Leonard smiled at the floor. “I’ll bear that in mind for future.”

“Or maybe there could just not be an ‘in future’.”

“I believe it was you who found the body,” Officer Leonard said.

“You say that like there’s ever a time when someone else finds the bodies.”

“You do seem to have a knack for it, I’ll admit.”

“And no ice cream to show for it. Found out what happened yet?” I asked and nodded to the line of questioning stations.

“We’re working on it. Maybe you could explain how you found him.”

“If I tell you will I still have to tell them?” I asked, gesturing in the direction of the interrogators.

Officer Leonard nodded. “You will.”

“Then why would I want to repeat myself for someone who doesn’t bring me ice cream?”

“Because Officer Salier will insist on being present when you’re questioned so you will have to moderate what you say.” Officer Leonard stepped to the side to peek through the mannequins.

“Moderate what I say? You make it sound like I was doing something wrong. I didn’t kill him.”

“I feel as though I have a good grasp on who you are, Ms Sway. I know you didn’t kill him.”

I turned to look at him. “Do you?”

“I do,” he said with a nod. “As do your investigators, who I see are out in force helping to gather intel for you.”

“They’re not my investigators and they’re not gathering intel, they’re simply talking to their friends,” I said. I should’ve realised Officer Leonard would’ve clocked them.

“I don’t suppose there’s anyone you’d like to throw into the ring as a suspect?”

I thought about the fleeing figure. And then of Tommy and Edith hovering over Jeremy’s body. And then I remembered Parole Officer Janice’s complaint that I doubted Oz would get straightened out. That Janice woman did not seem like the complaint retracting type.

“Well, y’know, there’s a shifty lady called Janice that my parole officer is talking to.” I pointed through the mannequins in Oz’s direction.

Officer Leonard moved slightly to the side so he could see who I was talking about. “She’s a parole officer.”

I gave him my best shocked expression. “Oh. Is she?”

“You think she was involved with the death of the medium?” Officer Leonard asked.

“I think she’d be a good place to start. You might need to slap a confession from her, though. Don’t believe her when she says she doesn’t know anything. And don’t be gentle.” I sneaked a peek at her and then sized up Officer Leonard. She was bigger than him. “Maybe take some backup.”

Officer Leonard smiled at me, slightly wider than his usual amiable smile. “I feel there may be an underlying reason for you directing me to her, something about an unjustified complaint, perhaps.”

I nodded. “It was unjustified and she started it.”

“I could look into getting it removed for you,” Officer Leonard offered.

“What would that cost me? A kidney?”

Officer Leonard laughed softly. “I’ll take that as a ‘no, thank you’. And I’ll pay particular attention when she’s questioned. Anyone else?”

I shook my head. “Nope.”

“Just the parole officer.”

“Yes, just the parole officer.” And the fleeing figure. And Tommy. And Edith.

We stood in silence for several minutes, watching everyone go about their business.

“Did he say anything to you about why he was here at the store?” Officer Leonard asked.

“I didn’t ask. I was trying to get back to Oz so I could tell him about Jeremy and not get into any trouble.”

“How did he get so far ahead of you?” Officer Leonard asked.

“What do you mean?”

“According to witnesses, he was by the fitting rooms and you were still on the escalators when you called in your housemates for reinforcements.”

Something told me not to drop Tommy in it. I was, like, eighty percent certain he wasn’t directly involved in Jeremy’s death. Maybe it was more like seventy percent. But, more than anything, it kind of felt weird to tell on him. And Edith. I didn’t know who’d get in more trouble if I mentioned that I was on familiar terms with an outlaw. No, I did. It would be me.

I pointed to my bare feet. “I’m not exactly equipped for a sprinting challenge.”

“He didn’t ask you anything before he realised he was dead?” Officer Leonard asked, acknowledging my excuse.

“What would he ask me?”

“I don’t know. Did he say much?”

“He said plenty. Wait until you meet him—you won’t be able to shut him up.”

“But he said nothing that would indicate what he was doing here or who killed him?”

“Nope.”

“I don’t suppose you know what happened to Officers Treble and Richards, do you?”

I smiled at him. “I have genuinely no clue but I’m pretty sure it was something extremely unpleasant.”

Officer Leonard narrowed his eyes at me and opened his mouth as if he were about to pursue that line of questioning but changed his mind. He focused on the interrogations from in between the mannequins. “Did you find yourself some new clothes?”

“Nope. Not really, since this trip was called short because of the inconvenient dead body that I totally would’ve walked past to carry on shopping, except his ghost got up and spoke to me.”

“So, you’re saying you still need clothes?” Officer Leonard asked.

“Yes. That’s what I’m saying.” Okay, so maybe I had that fancy set of underwear, some multi-pack knickers and some new shoes, and some makeup and the jumpsuit I was still wearing, but he didn’t ask that question. He asked if I needed more. I definitely needed more. I was pretty sure I’d always need more.

“That’s quite an unfortunate position to be in,” Officer Leonard agreed.

“What is?” Oz asked from behind us. “Talking to one of my wards without my permission. Again.”

“I’m simply catching up with a friend, Officer Salier, that’s all.” Officer Leonard stepped away from me.

“A friend?” Oz arched an eyebrow at me.

I shook my head and enunciated clearly at Officer Leonard. “Mental. Institution.”

Officer Leonard ignored me and turned to speak to Oz. “Ms Sway was telling me she was still lacking in the clothing department.”

“Is that right?” Oz’s attention jumped to the bags of theft-purchases in a nice clump by Anna and Katie.

“I thought we could have a second attempt at this tomorrow evening. I’ll arrange it and forward on the details to you and the other parole officers,” Officer Leonard said and inclined his head to me. “Ms Sway.”

Oz and I watched in silence as Officer Leonard walked back to the spotlight questioning stations.

“Are you going to tell me off for something?” I asked with a sigh.

“Are you happy with how our relationship is progressing?” Oz asked.

I hesitated. I wasn’t entirely sure what he meant by that. I wasn’t allowed to date him because he was my parole officer. Not that I would date him, because he was annoying and dictatorial and looked really good all the time. You could never date someone who was effortlessly gorgeous. It was a self-esteem killer. But he did look really good in a T-shirt. And he did occasionally give me the tummy flips when he wasn’t telling me off for something, which was yet another reason why the relationship wouldn’t work. Once you became emotionally invested in it, then the other person owned you. I mean, just look at my housemates.

“Bridget? Do you feel like we are developing open and honest channels of communication?”

“I feel like I’m telling you stuff and not always getting the same value back,” I replied honestly.

“Okay. Here’s some honesty. I don’t like that Leonard sought you out to speak to you without me. I don’t like that he’s calling you his ‘friend’. I don’t like that he’s arranging another shopping trip specifically for you. I don’t like that he’s taking an interest in you at all. What don’t you like about this situation?”

“I don’t like that he didn’t bring me apology ice cream.”

“Bridget—”

“Officer Salier?” A GB, the one that had initiated the evacuation, appeared behind him. “We’re ready for your wards. We’d like to start with Katherine Green.”

“I’ll be right there,” Oz said and waited for the GB to leave. The GB didn’t.

“We need to progress with these interviews, Officer Salier. The quicker they’re done, the quicker you can all go home.” The GB gestured for Oz to lead the way.

Oz gave me a stern look that was basically a mixture of behave/we’ll talk about this later/please behave/we’re not done/we’ll talk about this later, and then led the GB over to collect Katie.

“What did the GB tell you?” Pam whispered from behind me.

“Nothing really all that useful,” I said, glancing around at the room and wishing there were a tea and biscuit station. It felt wrong that there was a group of ghosts and no tea and biscuits. We’d been there for hours and all because the GBs were spiteful. They’d decided the best process would be to interview one person from each parole group rather than do a group at a time. So everyone was still in the room. But now they wanted to do all of Oz’s wards? What was that about?

“Really?” Lucy asked, coming up on my other side. “I’d have thought he’d have all the information.”

“I think you’re a bit confused about how this works,” I said to Lucy. “He likely does have all the information but that does not mean he would share it with me.”

Petal tugged on my sleeve. “Did you ask him nicely? I always think that if you ask nicely people are more inclined to help you.”

“Did I ask him nicely to give me all the information he had about the murder? Yeah, it doesn’t work that way either, Petal. He never tells me anything, really.”

“Then how do you investigate?” Lucy asked with a frown.

I looked around at the three expectant faces. “With great difficulty and much confusion.”

Lucy screwed up her face. “That doesn’t sound like fun.”

I shook my head. “It’s really not.”

“Who wants to share their suspect information first?” Pam asked.

Petal’s hand shot straight up in the air. “Me! I spoke to Olive.” Petal moved to the side of our mannequin hide and pointed at Olive, who saw us looking and gave us a happy wave. We all waved back.

I gently tugged Petal back behind the mannequins. “Before you continue, Petal, I feel we need to talk about subtlety.”

Petal gave me her full attention. “Okay.”

“When you’re talking about people it’s best not to let them know you’re talking about them, okay? So don’t point them out, don’t look at them, and if I describe who I’m talking about, don’t try to find them in the room, okay?”

Petal’s face crumpled into a frown. “I don’t know. That seems a bit two-faced.”

Anna wandered over to join our group. “That’s because it is two-faced, hon. It’s why Bridget’s so good at it,”

I ignored Anna. I had to. The mannequin in front of me had a loose arm and with one little tug it would be off. I’d been imagining using it on Janice but now Anna was much closer. I scrunched my hands into fists so they wouldn’t reach for it and focused on Petal.

“Okay, Petal, imagine Olive was the one who killed Jeremy. Imagine that, if she killed him, she’s probably feeling a little suspicious that people saw her, and then you pointed her out of the crowd. She might think you suspect her. And if she thinks that you think she killed Jeremy she might try and kill you, too. So, we are covert operatives from here on out. It’s not two-faced, it’s self-preservation. Like secret agents, okay?”

Petal’s frown slowly morphed into a smile. “Okay.”

“Hang on, so we can’t flat out ask people what they know about the murder?” Lucy asked.

“No,” I said and drew the word out while I looked at each of them to make sure they’d all heard me.

Lucy threw her hands up at me. “Well, that would’ve been handy to know before we went around questioning people. So now if I’ve questioned the murderer they’re going to try to kill me? Great.”

“Look at it this way, Lucy, you might get lucky and finally be able to use your stun gun,” Pam offered.

“That is such a good point, Pam. I hope I questioned the murderer.” Lucy peeked out from behind the mannequins and glanced around the room.

I focused on Petal because I plain didn’t want to deal with Lucy’s comment. “Right, Petal, without pointing them out, what did you learn from who?”

“Olive,” Petal said and her eyes darted all over the room so she was looking anywhere but over her shoulder at Olive. “Olive said she was sad he was dead and that it’s always a trying time. And then I spoke to Wendy and she said something similar. And Tracy agreed. And then Maria said that she thought that dying was the hardest thing she’d ever been through and she’d had four children. And then Sheila—”

“Petal, what did you ask them?” They were pretty nice remarks. I’d never had anyone tell me anything like that.

“I just—I said wasn’t it terrible that someone was dead.” Petal glanced around the group. “Did I do it wrong?”

“Yes. You should’ve been more direct about it,” Lucy said.

“Exactly how direct were you?” I asked Lucy.

Lucy shrugged. “I asked them if they’d killed him.”

Petal gasped. “You can’t ask people that.”

“But that was the information I wanted,” Lucy said with a confused shake of her head.

“What did they say?” Pam asked Lucy and frankly I was an inch from washing my hands of them all and lying, saying I’d found the killer.

Lucy tossed her head. “Mostly they said no.”

“Mostly?” I asked.

Lucy coughed and fiddled with the hem of her jumper. “Some people were quite rude about it.”

I nodded. “Yeah, it’s funny how people can get a bit upset when you accuse them of murder.”

“How did you do it, Pam?” Petal asked.

“Well, I was trying to be subtle about it and I started up a conversation with Beatrice about the vegetable lasagne she’d told me she was going to try and then we got sidetracked talking about the way different shaped pasta is better for different dishes.”

“Right,” I said, adjusting my fringe for something to do with my hands that didn’t involve ripping off the mannequin’s arm and beating some sense into all of them. “Maybe we should have a quick lesson on how to question people effectively before you guys go back into the field.”

“I think that’s a good idea, hon. They clearly don’t know what they’re doing,” Anna agreed.

“Oh, because you do?” Lucy asked.

Anna flashed a smug smile at us. “While you four were bumbling around I planted a few suspicions about Bridget’s guilt.”

“Wait, so you ‘helped’ by spreading a rumour that you thought I was the killer?” I asked.

“It kinda does make a tiny bit of sense,” Petal admitted quietly.

“I think it makes a heap of sense. The real killer will totally think they’ve gotten away with it if everybody suspects you, so we can investigate unhindered,” Lucy said and pointed to Anna. “I’m glad I managed to persuade the others to include you.”

“Bridget Sway?” a male voice asked from behind me.

I turned to face him. “Yes?”

“Come with me, please.” The GB gestured for me to walk ahead of him.

“All of you, stay here,” I said, gesturing around the group.

Pam, Petal and Lucy murmured their agreement.

“Who made you the boss, hon?” Anna asked but Petal shushed her.

The GB directed me to the empty interrogation seat.

Oz pointed to the GB about to begin his questions. “You’ll have to wait.”

“Ms Sway, I can stand in for Officer Salier during Officer Fredrickson’s questioning, if you’d like?” Officer Leonard asked.

“No, she wouldn’t like,” Oz called from the far end of the interrogation station.

“I’m sure Ms Sway can answer for herself,” Officer Leonard said and turned to me. “Would you like me to stand in for Officer Salier, Ms Sway?”

I smiled at Officer Leonard. “Mental. Institution.”

Officer Leonard smiled back at me and then turned to Oz. “I think she would like to wait for you.”

A few long minutes of silence later, Oz came to stand next to me and gestured for Officer Fredrickson to ask his question.

Fredrickson crouched down in front of me. “Let’s talk about how you snapped a coat hanger and used it to stab a man in the neck.”

Oz jumped in before I could answer. “She didn’t do it and you have no proof or reason to suggest otherwise.”

“No? Then why is one of her housemates telling everyone she did it?” Fredrickson asked.

“What?” Oz leaned forward as if he’d misheard but I just shrugged.

“My mam always used to say any type of meanness stems from jealousy.”

Chapter Five

Lucy whistled as I walked into the kitchen the next morning and I felt like I deserved it. I was wearing my new white jumpsuit uniform, which acknowledged I was a participant of the VTP. The colour made my skin appear sun-kissed and my pillar box red hair seem even more vibrant. I’d used my mascara for eyeliner, as well as its main purpose and to fully showcase my amazing new, black four-inch heels, I’d rolled up the bottoms of my trousers. As a finishing touch I’d cinched the waist of my jumpsuit with the black ribbon Sabrina had given me. Admittedly, her intention was that I’d have something to tie people up with, should I need to, but it worked just as well as a belt.

“Oh, wow, Bridget you look amazing,” Petal gushed as I gave them all a twirl in the centre of the kitchen.

Was it the best I’d ever looked in my life? No. Was it the best I’d ever looked since I’d died? Absolutely. I felt so much like my old self I couldn’t believe that I’d been without these essentials for so long.

Anna glanced up from the magazine she was reading at the breakfast bar. “With the amount of makeup she has on and the length of time it took her, I’d have expected more.”

“Oh, Anna, I think you’ve gone a little overboard with your colour corrector today because you look a little green.” I smiled and walked to the kettle to make some tea. Okay, so I might have sashayed more than walked but it felt amazing to have my heels back.

“Can anyone smell burning?” Pam asked and I sniffed the air. I turned to see Oz staring at me. I smiled. He continued to stare. My smile dwindled. I was in trouble. I’d literally just walked into the room. How was this possible?

Oz held out the spatula he’d been using to flip the now burnt pancakes. “Pam? Can you take over for a minute for me? I need to speak to Bridget.”

Pam took the spatula and Oz headed up to the first floor without waiting to see if I’d follow. I slumped my shoulders and followed him. And my day had started so well.

“How am I in trouble?” I asked when I was only halfway up the stairs. It was more of a whine than a question, really. And harder than I remembered to walk upstairs in heels.

He paused in his pacing. “You’re kidding, right?”

“What? You don’t think I look pretty?” I made it to the landing, tugged on my ribbon belt then smoothed my fringe over.

“No, you were pretty before. With no makeup and slightly frizzy hair. That was pretty. This isn’t pretty. This?” He gestured to my outfit with an open palm. “This is stunning.”

I smiled at him. I had definitely missed hearing that from people. Even if it was only boys trying to get into my knickers. I dipped my head in gracious acceptance. “Thank you.”

“That wasn’t a compliment.”

“How?”

“Do you remember the immense amount of trouble you’ve been in over the past month?”

I shook my head. “No, no, I don’t. Could you remind me?”

“This?” Oz gestured to my outfit again, which was really only shoes and eyeliner. “This is going to attract a whole different type of trouble.”

“I’ve still got my pepper spray.”

Oz stared at me, hands on his hips, frown on his face. “I need you to tone it down.”

“It’s shoes and eyeliner. It is toned down.”

Oz inhaled a deep breath, pressed his hands together as if he were praying and then pointed them at me. “Petal takes her cue from you. What if Petal starts dressing this way? What if Petal starts getting this type of attention? You’re used to it. She’s not. What if she finds herself in a situation that she can’t handle? Or Lucy. Or Pam. Hell, even Anna. Simply to prove a point that she’s more attractive.”

“Whoa, you think Anna’s more attractive than me?” I held up my hand in his face. “You just lost any goodwill.”

Oz pulled my hand from his face. “I didn’t say she was. I was suggesting a situation which we both know, considering your antagonistic relationship, is entirely plausible. And please remember that you have this because I let you. I can take it back.”

“Right. So you’re saying I can keep it but only if I don’t use it?”

“I’m saying tone it down.”

“Fine. But tomorrow. Because I’m not changing now.” I snatched my hand out of his grip and stomped back downstairs, which was actually a little tricky in heels.

I was three steps down before I felt Oz fist his hand in the back of my jumpsuit. “Just in case you fall,” he murmured.

“I’ve walked in heels for ten years. I don’t need a safety net.” I twisted to slap his hand off but caught my heel in the carpet. Oz reached out and caught both my arms to stop me from falling. I righted myself and gripped hold of the handrail. “You ruined my balance when you grabbed me.”

“Yeah, that was it. Not that you’re trying to walk on chopsticks.” He kept his hand fisted in the back of my jumpsuit all the way down the stairs.

I made it back into the kitchen without further issue and had to bat at his hand a couple of times before he let me go. I wasn’t sure if it was because he was worried about me walking on my chopstick heels or because he didn’t really want to let me out of the house. I could understand the latter because I did look amazing.

“I’ll see you all later,” I said as I headed for the back door, rearranging my ribbon belt as I went since Oz’s stair safety interference had pulled it out of shape.

“Aren’t you having breakfast with us?” Petal asked.

“I want to show Sabrina,” I said. Which I did, but more importantly I wanted to talk to Sabrina.

“Okay, have a good day,” Petal said, then reached over to hug me.

Lucy and Pam echoed her sentiments while Anna and Katie ignored me. With what I assumed was a “please behave” look from Oz, I headed out into the garden and tunnelled to the canteen. I walked along the corridor and was disappointed to find it was empty of people to sashay in front of. Obviously, I did it anyway because you are who you are, regardless of whether people are watching or not.

“Look at you,” Sabrina said as I joined her at the table with a cup of tea. A cup that was only half full to avoid any accidental spillage down my white jumpsuit since I was out of practice walking in heels. I dusted off my chair and sat next to her. It wouldn’t have bothered me in my old mauve jumpsuit but I really liked my new white one. It reminded me of the white suit I’d died in. I’d loved that suit. Until dead people had bled over it. I felt strangely protective of this new jumpsuit.

“You look pretty, Bridget.” Charlie smiled up at me from his cereal.

“Has Oz seen you?” Pete asked. His buzz cut of greying hair and stony expression made the question sound more serious than it was.

“Yes, Pete. He has. And he told me that I looked amazingly beautiful and should always dress this way.” I very carefully lifted my tea to my mouth and sipped. Yes, I was being overcautious but it had been a while since I had clothes I’d cared about.

Pete winced. “I’m sure he had a lot of things to say but I’m pretty certain that wasn’t one.”

“How’s he doing with all of you under one roof?” Charlie asked. Although they were of an age, Charlie was physically the opposite to Pete, with a full head of hair and a kind face that matched his personality. They were both fully qualified facilitators which was what I’d been training to be before the whole VTP deal. I’d met Charlie on my first official dead day and he’d sort of adopted me.

“Why would that even be a question, Charlie?” Sabrina asked in a deceptively casual tone.

“Because women are emotional and highly strung.” Pete slurped his tea. “And six is a lot of emotional and highly strung in one place.”

Sabrina turned to me. “If I throw something at him would that make me highly strung?”

“Can’t I throw something and you cry? I can’t be the emotional one.” I pointed to my face. “Crying would ruin my eyeliner.”

“I meant with Anna and Katie,” Charlie clarified. “Anna being your old adjustment companion and Katie being recently released. It must be a difficult situation.”

“It’s oddly the same, Charlie. Anna is around a bit more but Katie doesn’t speak so it’s not like she’s contributing to the new dynamic in any way.” I took a sip of my tea. “We do lock ourselves in our rooms at night so we don’t get murdered in our beds, though.”

Charlie gave me a slow nod. “Well, that’s good that it’s working out … I guess.”

“Did you get anything beside the face paint last night?” Pete asked.

I hesitated. “Well—”

“You didn't find another body, right?” Pete interrupted.

“A body? No I didn’t find a body. First, I found his ghost and then his body.”

“And there goes my appetite.” Pete dropped his spoon to his bowl with a clang.

“Someone died while you were shopping?” Sabrina asked.

I nodded. “Of course they did.”

“But you don’t have that defeated expression you always have when you find a body.” Sabrina peered into my face. “Or maybe you do and your makeup is throwing it off.”

“Who died this time?” Charlie asked with a resigned sigh.

“Jeremy Thomas Leith.”

Sabrina reared back. “Shut. Up.”

“Why does that name sound familiar?” Pete mumbled to Charlie.

“So, now he’s dead?” Sabrina asked.

I nodded. “Yep.”

“Killed during a ghost shopping spree when the store was supposed to be closed to the public?” Sabrina asked.

I nodded. “Yep.”

“When he was most likely meeting with another ghost to get afterlife information to bulk out his shows?” she asked.

I nodded. “Yep.”

“And the ghost he was meeting likely killed him?” she asked.

I gave a diagonal sort of nod. “Maybe.”

“But you’re not going to get involved with this in any way?” Pete asked.

I shook my head. “Nope.”

“Are you lying?” Pete asked.

“Nope. I might get my new jumpsuit dirty. Or smudge my eyeliner,” I said, drawing attention to my beautifully applied eyeliner. I know that Charlie had said I looked pretty but I didn’t feel they really understood the amount of expertise it took to apply cat flick eyeliner with mascara and a homemade brush created from toothbrush bristles.

Pete frowned at me. “I can’t tell if you’re kidding or not.”

“Awww, poor you.” I pulled a sympathetic face as I tapped the table in front of him.

“Why would the ghost Jeremy was meeting want to kill him, though?” Sabrina asked.

“You met him, right?” I asked.

“Yeah, and he was obnoxious but I wouldn’t kill him over it.” Sabrina frowned into her coffee cup. “Maybe he was killed by an alive person.”

“Why would an alive person have more of a motive than a dead person?” I asked.

Sabrina pushed her half eaten plate of toast away from her. “He could be sleeping with someone’s wife and a jealous husband killed him.”

“Once again, you met him. Do you really think he could take his attention away from himself long enough to have an affair?”

Sabrina wagged a finger at me. “That’s a good point. It could be professional jealousy.”

I narrowed my eyes at her. “Why do you want it to be an alive person who killed him?”

“I don’t, necessarily, but it would make a nice change.”

“You both know we’re sitting here, right?” Pete asked, looking between us.

“You’re so right, Pete.” I turned to Sabrina. “We should head to work.”

Before Pete could voice any complaints, Sabrina and I wished them a good day and hastened out of the canteen.

“What didn’t you want to say in front of them?” Sabrina murmured as we walked along the corridor to the tunnelling room.

“Tommy was there.”

Sabrina frowned. “Tommy? He was shopping with you guys?”

“No. Tommy appeared when I found Jeremy’s body. Then some other stuff happened and I ended up back on the floor where Jeremy’s body was and I saw Tommy hovering over it … with Edith. And before you ask, no, I’m not a thousand percent sure it was her because it doesn’t make sense that it would be her. But also, yes, I am sure.”

Sabrina’s eyebrows were all the way up into her hairline. “I can see why you might not have wanted to mention this in front of Pete and Charlie.”

I snapped my fingers and pointed to her. “Oh! And some stupid parole officer called Janice complained about me. Can you check into her, please?”

“Why did she complain about you?”

“She was rude to me.”

Sabrina gave me a sidelong glance. “She complained about you because she was rude to you?”

“Yep. That’s how I remember it.”

“And Edith was with Tommy? Standing over Jeremy’s dead body? Were they together?” Sabrina asked and I could practically hear the gears in her head turning, spitting out possible explanations. “Like they’d come together or more like they both happened to be at the same place at the same time together? And you’re definitely sure it was Edith?”

“I’m pretty sure it was her.” I tried to visualise the memory but the harder I tried the less clear it became. “No, I’m positive it was her but I’m doubting myself because it’s weird that she would be standing over Jeremy’s body and talking to Tommy.”

“That is weird. Did she act like herself? Could someone have done that face morphing thing to look like her?”

“Maybe. I only saw her for a couple of seconds so …” I let the sentence trail off, leaving all the possibilities unsaid. “Also, despite my best efforts of discouragement, all of my housemates want to be involved in this. They’re meeting us at lunch so you can talk them through questioning techniques.”

Sabrina grinned. “To be clear, I like the effect this eyeliner is having on you.”

“What do you mean?”

“I feel like it’s reining in the nicey-nice Bridget, who feels bad and hugs everyone, and giving rebel Bridget a bit more freedom.”

I made a non-committal noise. “Can you check your files for a list of names of everyone who was at the shopping spree last night and get some background on them. And Jeremy’s file—see if there’s anything good. Officer Leonard said he was going to arrange another shopping trip for tonight, so it’d be good to have some information on these people going in so we know who to focus our attention on. And this Janice woman. Oh, and this Officer Treble too. He gave me the warning. I didn’t like him.” I glanced around the room as I tried to think of the other things I needed her to check. “Okay, I think that’s it.”

Sabrina narrowed her eyes at me. “Maybe you shouldn’t do the heels and the eyeliner at the same time?”

“Why?”

“Let’s not obliterate nicey-nice Bridget, who is mostly pretty balanced. Let’s just give her an edge, okay?”

“Look, my housemates have made it clear that they are going to be involved regardless of whether I try to stop them or not, so I’d rather supervise, solve the mystery quickly and go about my day. I think that’s pretty balanced. Oh, and Anna spread a heap of rumours that I was responsible for killing Jeremy, so I’d also like to get it solved before I get arrested.”

“Why would Anna do that?”

“Apparently, she thought that it would make the real killer feel safe.” I held a finger in warning. “And don’t say it makes any sort of sense because all it does is put me squarely back in the frame.”

“Pretty sure you’d be in the frame for this anyway. Did the police question you?”

I shook my head. “The police weren’t involved since it wasn’t ghost on ghost violence. Only the GBs. And they questioned everyone. But not in a ‘did you kill him way’ more like in a what do you know. Except for me. Me they asked if I’d killed him.”

“Standard,” Sabrina said with an indifferent shrug. “Did they let anything slip?”

“No. I’m pretty sure at this point I know more than them.”

“Are we sure this was ghost on livie violence?” Sabrina asked me.

“Sure? No. But how about we cross all our ghosts off the list first and we can worry about livie suspects later.” I thought about that for a moment. “Actually, yes. We are pretty sure this is ghost on livie violence because, otherwise, how would the livie have known to find Jeremy there? And surely, they’d have been freaked out by all the clothes flying around. And why kill him there, anyway? Where there are cameras, and not out in the alley behind or even the dimly lit main street?”

“But all the cameras were turned off in the store, right?” Sabrina asked.

“Yes, but how would a livie know that?” I countered.

“Maybe he was killed by another medium,” Sabrina suggested. “Someone who has their own ghost connection and knew about the shopping trip.”

I shook my head at her. “You always make this overly complicated stuff sound so reasonable.”

“That’s because it is reasonable. First port of call is identifying who Jeremy was meeting, agreed? Then we can make separate livie and ghost investigation plans.”

“I knew we shouldn’t have left you two alone,” Pete said from behind us as we entered the tunnelling room. “What illegalness are you planning now?”

I nodded to Sabrina in agreement with her plan and checked the space on my wrist where a watch would have been if I’d remembered to get one on the shopping trip. “Oh, will you look at the time?”

Chapter Six

“Morning, Bridget.” Sean, a short, dark-haired man in his fifties, clapped one hand against his clipboard and danced from foot to foot. With the disturbingly wide smile, beige chinos and blue polo shirt he reminded me of a holiday rep. I was desperately hoping I wouldn’t have to wear that outfit when I was fully trained.

“Morning,” I said and stepped off the arrival circle with exaggerated movement as to draw attention to my shoes.

“Isn’t this exciting?” Sean had inducted me into the afterlife when I’d died which made me think it wasn’t an accident he was my trainer.

“What?” I looked around the empty room for the source of his excitement. Were we waiting for more people? Was something going on today?

“Just this?” Sean spun on one foot, arms out to the sides.

“I’m not sure I’d go quite as far as exciting.”

“You don’t think a new day is worth any excitement?” Sean asked. His hopping had turned into more of an on the spot shimmy. “Another chance to make someone smile. Another chance to do something nice for someone. Another chance to be the person you want to be.”

“Another chance to tell someone they look pretty?” I adjusted my waist clinching ribbon. Yes, I was fishing for a compliment.

Sean clapped on his clipboard and pointed at me. “Exactly! Now you’re getting it, Bridget. Who do you want to tell they’re pretty?”

“I think everybody should be told they’re pretty.” I wasn’t used to asking people to tell me. They used to do it without prompting.

“Then you should make sure you tell everyone,” Sean said and completely missed my point. “And, yet another reason to be excited—as if you need one—is you’re progressing out of the classroom training phase today. We’re getting a new group of recently transitioned. You and I are going to induct them. Together. Now isn’t that worth a little happy dance? And you can tell them all how pretty they are. So, come on, you crazy trainee inductioneer. Let’s get inducting!”

Sean didn’t wait for me to respond. He walked out of the room, swinging his arms as if he were the Happy dwarf off to work. I followed. Like Grumpy. Only a taller, more attractive version. Something about constantly happy people depressed me. Especially constantly happy oblivious people. He practically skipped down the corridor. It wasn’t natural to be that chipper all the time. It wasn’t.

Two GBs exited a room on the right as we passed. I was pretty sure it was Treble and Richards. I wasn’t sure what Charon had done to them but I was sure they’d likely blame me for not giving them safety stickers. I kept pace with Sean and didn’t look back.

“Hey!” Treble shouted after us. I kept walking because, really, there was no reason to believe he was talking to me. It wasn’t as though he’d addressed me by name.

“Hey, you!” he shouted again.

Sean whirled around, a huge smile on his face. “Are you talking to me, Officer?”

“Her.”

I smothered a sigh and faced him. “Officer Treble. What a delight.”

“Bridget Sway.” He said my name as though I were his nemesis. Eyeliner Bridget revelled in that moment. Nicey-nice Bridget felt her stomach drop for the heap of not good implications.

“Did you manage to hand Jeremy off to the person waiting for him okay last night?” I asked and Treble paled behind his mask. Clearly Eyeliner Bridget was in the driving seat right now.

“Went smoothly,” Richards chimed in with exaggerated confidence.

“Really?” I asked. “Because you didn’t come back with Oz and Officer Leonard seemed to have no idea where you were.”

“Secret GB business.” Officer Richards grinned and fashioned his hand into a gun and fake shot at me. Why did he think that it was okay to fake shoot people all the time?

“Your lack of identification in a secure area warrants a citation.” Treble flipped his notepad open with a flourish that struck me as him metaphorically flipping the page on the Charon topic.

Sean stepped in front of me. “I’m sorry, Officer. It was my fault. I didn’t realise we’d be out of the classroom training today. I’ll go and grab her badge right this second.” Sean turned to me. “Don’t you have something you want to say to the officer?”

I nodded at Sean and cranked up the wattage on my smile. “You look very pretty today, Officer Treble.”

“Oh, Bridget!” Sean raised his hand for me to give him a high five. I did. Mainly because I felt that Treble knew I was making fun of him and I wanted to celebrate that.

Sean leaned in to whisper, loudly enough for Treble to hear. “Next time, though, maybe change it to ‘handsome’ when talking to a man. Or happy. You could use ‘happy’. You could use that indiscriminately.”

“Let me try again. Why, Officer Richards, you looked incredibly happy today.” And yes, I did add a little extra sass in my voice so the compliment bordered on flirtation.

“You’re such a fast learner.” Sean’s face lit up as though there were a lightbulb in his skull. He gripped the clipboard between his knees and held up both hands for a high ten. In normal circumstances, I wouldn’t have done it but I was extra pleased with myself.

“Isn’t she?” Treble mumbled and it didn’t sound like a compliment.

“Bridget, will you go and wait over there by the door to the staircase so you don’t get in the nice GB’s way while I nip back to our training room and get your badge?” Sean asked.

“Of course,” I said and turned my back on Treble and Richards.

“Have a good day, Ms Sway,” Officer Richards called after me.

“You too, Officer Richards,” I called back and threw him a smile over my shoulder. Was it a little bit flirty? Yes. But did it achieve my aim of deepening Treble’s scowl? Also yes. So I was okay with that. I headed to the door at the end of the corridor. I might have not quite sashayed but I definitely threw a little more movement through my hips than a regular walk needed.

“Wait for me there, okay?” Sean pointed to the exact spot I was standing on.

“Okay,” I said again with another nod, the picture of the perfect, well-adjusted afterlife citizen.

“Will you accompany me back to the training room, Officer?” Sean asked Treble. I had the impression that Sean didn’t want to leave me alone with the GBs.

“We have other business. Be good.” Richards fashioned his hand into a fake gun, shot at me again and then they walked away. Why did he keep doing that? Didn’t he realise that made him look like an idiot?

“I’ll be two seconds,” Sean said, lifting two fingers to illustrate his point and then dashed off in the same direction as the GBs.

I stood by the door minding my own business until a loud series of bangs echoed out from the stairwell. I was about to check several people hadn’t fallen down the stairs at the same time when the door flew open. Considering it was a super heavy fire door I half expected an avalanche or some other natural disaster to pour through. I’d been close.

“Why are you lurking here?” Janice demanded as the door closed behind her.

“Because my induction training officer told me to.” I gave her my widest, happiest smile because, at that moment, I was doing exactly as I’d been told.

“Where’s your identification?”

“He’s gone to get it. That’s why I’m standing here. Exactly where he told me. Exactly like he told me.” I gave her another wide smile.

“He shouldn’t have left you here without identification.” Janice pulled a notepad from her pocket, flipped it open and clicked her pen. “What’s his name?”

“He was doing exactly what the GB told him to do. If anyone is to blame, it’s the GB. His name was Treble. T-R-E—” I pointed to her poised pen. “Are you getting this down? T-R-E-B-L-E.”

Voices drifted from the stairwell. Janice threw a furtive glance toward the door and then clicked her pen off. “Just do as you’re told,” she said and walked away.

“I am,” I called after her. Hadn’t I just explained that?

Janice frowned over her shoulder at me before she disappeared around the corner.

“He can say that all he wants but it doesn’t change the facts.” A voice echoed out from the stairwell. Fredrickson. The GB who accused me of stabbing Jeremy.

“He makes a good point, though,” another male voice said. Not quite disagreeing, more like cajoling the other guy to agree.

“I don’t think he does. Mediums serve a purpose and having more would be helpful, that’s true, but their numbers don’t change the fact that we simply need more boots on the ground, Neals. Until we can change the recruiting process—”

The handle of the door twisted and it opened a crack. I was torn between staying exactly where I was and moving. I was pretty sure I was going to be in trouble either way.

“Change it how?” Neals asked.

“We could start hiring women,” Fredrickson said and both laughed.

They were still laughing when they opened up the door and found me waiting on the other side. They stopped when they saw me.

“And why would female GBs be funny?” I asked.

“Were you eavesdropping?” Neals accused me.

“Nope. You’re both loud.”

“Where’s your ID badge?” Fredrickson asked.

“Right here. It’s right here.” Sean jogged toward us, waving the badge in the air. The GBs watched him approach. Neals snatched the badge out of Sean’s hand when he reached us.

I whistled. “Rude.”

“Bridget.” Sean shook his head at me.

“What? Snatching is rude. Just because he’s a GB doesn’t mean he’s exempt from good manners, does it?” I placed my hand over my chest and affected a sugary sweet tone. “I’d have thought they’d have to be the epitome of excellent manners since they’re in such a public role.”

“That is a good point, Bridget,” Sean mumbled.

“I know.” I held out my hand to Neals, who was still holding my badge. “Can I please have my identification back now, Officer?”

Neals looked down at his hands and frowned as if surprised to find himself holding it. He checked my identification for the first time.

“Bridget? Bridget Sway?” he asked.

“Is that a question? Because you are literally holding my name in your hands.” I leaned forward and stage whispered, “Is literacy not an entry requirement for the GBs, only the right genitalia?”

“Bridget!” Sean gasped and then held his hands up. “I am so sorry.”

I pushed his hands down. “Don’t apologise for me, Sean. They were both laughing about how women couldn’t be GBs.”

Sean frowned. “Why would that be funny?”

“I don’t know, Sean. Maybe these two gentlemen, who the Bureau of Ghostly Affairs deem worthy of upholding the law and seeking out justice, will be able to clarify that matter for us both.”

“Don’t eavesdrop.” Neals pointed a corner of my badge in my face and then slapped it back into my hand. He didn’t want to give it back but there was no reason for him to keep it. And he clearly didn’t want to get drawn into a gender politics questioning session with Sean.

“As I previously, and very politely, explained, I wasn’t eavesdropping. You were loud,” I reminded him.

“Okay, our newbies are waiting,” Sean said, nudging me past the GBs and into the stairwell. “For the record, Bridget, I think you’d make an excellent GB.”

“Thank you, Sean.” Since I was quite familiar with GBs I kind of felt like that was an insult but I knew he meant it as a compliment, so I treated it like one. “Are there always this many of them around Arrivals?”

“Sometimes there are, sometimes there aren’t.” Sean shrugged unconcerned and headed down the stairs.

I followed him, clip-clopping in my heels. I didn’t exactly wish for my Oz safety net but I did wonder if I’d always found it so hard to navigate staircases in heels. I couldn’t remember it being a problem before. And then, on the third flight down, I realised why. In life, I’d have taken the lift.

We made it down into the parking garage and Sean held the door open for me. The Bus of Death was circling the car park. I knew, from my community service, this was so the passengers still thought they were en route. Depending on the passengers, stopping the bus could result in riots.

The Bus of Death came to a screeching halt in front of us. The door creaked open and a slew of people poured off the bus. Some dropped to their knees in what I assumed was relief to be back on solid ground. I rode the bus with Charon on the weekends. I recognised that feeling.

“You need to work on your timekeeping, my little Bridget. I was getting dizzy,” Charon called down from the driver’s seat while Sean’s head twanged back and forth between us.

“You know him?” Sean whispered and I nodded. I couldn’t tell if Sean was worried or impressed by that.

“Sorry. GB intervention. Talking of GBs …”

“I didn’t harm them,” Charon called over Sean’s beckoning welcome to the escaping passengers. “I simply explained to them how important collecting the newly deceased on time was. And I very much liked the sticker notes on your parole officer.” Charon grinned at me. I was guessing that Oz might have taken a few jibes about that.

“I figured you might have lumped him in with them.”

“I would have.” Charon angled his rearview mirror to look back along the inside on the bus. I had no idea why he had the mirror—he never used it for driving purposes. “Off. Get off. This is the end of the line,” Charon yelled without moving from behind the driver’s seat.

“Absolutely not. Take me back,” demanded Jeremy.

“There’s nothing back there for you.” Charon grinned over his shoulder at his reluctant passenger. He did the face morphing thing where he layered a monster’s face over his own. It looked reptilian and when Charon spoke there was a hiss to his voice. “Get off my bus!”

“No. I demand to see your supervisor,” Jeremy called from the back of the bus.

Charon glanced to me, grinned then closed the bus’s door.

“Is he leaving? We’re one short,” Sean said as he walked over to me, counting the passengers again.

I shook my head. I’d seen how this went. “Nope, there’s still a passenger onboard but he needs a little encouragement getting off the bus.”

“Oooh, maybe we can help.” Sean stepped toward the bus and I held him back.

“You don’t want to help.”

“No?” he asked and I shook my head.

A high-pitched scream ricocheted out of the bus and around the car park. I sighed, Sean cringed and the passengers, who were already off the bus, huddled together. The doors of the bus rattled as if someone were attacking them. Abruptly it stopped. They opened. A grinning Charon was holding a truly petrified Jeremy by the collar a foot off the ground. Jeremy’s legs were moving as if he were on a treadmill.

“He’s going to run,” Charon warned and let go of Jeremy’s collar.

Jeremy tripped down the stairs of the bus and landed directly at my feet. His eyes travelled up my body as if they didn’t really want to but couldn’t help it. When he finally reached my face I waved down at him. Jeremy choked down a scream. He pushed himself to his feet and ran.

I whistled as I watched him. “Look at him go.”

Sean nodded. “Yep, he’s fast. I hope you can run in those shoes.”

“Me? In these shoes? No, these shoes aren’t for running. They’re not even really for walking. They’re for standing around and looking amazing in.”

“Guess you’ll have to chase him down barefoot then. Trainee Inductioneers’ prerogative. It’s only fair you guys get the fun jobs.” Sean stared longingly at the running Jeremy.

“The fun jobs?” I asked.

Sean nodded and began clapping on his clipboard. “Brid-get! Brid-get! Brid-get!”

“What’s he doing?” I asked Charon.

“He’s cheering you on while you chase the runner down.” Charon gestured to Jeremy, who, in running blindly away from the bus, me and Charon, had run to the other side of the car park where there was no exit.

“I’m not chasing him down,” I said.

“He’s off my bus now so he’s your responsibility. And look at the encouragement.” Charon pointed to the still chanting Sean, who seemed unperturbed by the fact I still wasn’t chasing anyone.

I scowled at Charon, who laughed in response. I scowled at the still chanting Sean, who kept chanting in response. And then I scowled at Jeremy, who was too far away to properly appreciate my glare. I took my shoes off and placed them carefully by Sean, then took three stomping steps toward Jeremy before I realised that, dead or not, stomping barefoot on concrete hurt.

“If he carries on like that they’re not even going to let him into Arrivals, let alone through,” Charon said as he caught me up and we watched Jeremy pounding on the bricks as though he expected someone to open up a section of wall and let him through.

“Where will he go if they don’t let him into Arrivals?” I asked.

Charon shrugged. “Figure of speech. They’ll let him through the initial door but they’ll whisk him off elsewhere before he’s even filled out his forms.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to chase him down?” I asked. “I’ll bring you pastries on my next shift.”

“That is tempting, my little Bridget, but I’d much rather watch you lasso the runner.”

“Compromise?” I asked.

Charon nodded. “I’m listening.”

“You help me catch him and I won’t tell every passenger on every shift until the end of my community service what a great listener you are.”

Charon blew out a breath and stared at Jeremy, who’d given up banging on the wall and was now tapping his way along it, I assumed looking for weak spots. “I don’t know. I think it might be worth it.”

I pouted at him. Charon smiled, placed a hand on my shoulder and tunnelled us to directly in front of Jeremy. I was pretty sure that was to freak Jeremy out more than to help me.

“Please, please …” Jeremy begged as he cowered down on the floor.

“Please what?” I asked, feeling a little sorry for him. Charon could get a little excitably mean when people refused to get off his bus. Or do what he wanted in general.

“Please. I don’t want to be dead.”

“Who does? It sucks.” I moved to crouch in front of him, feeling a wave of empathy. I hadn’t taken to dying that well either. Although it didn’t help that Charon had lied to me about it to start with.

Jeremy looked up at me. His eyes were full of fear. “Can’t you take me back?”

“Take you back where?” I asked.

“Home. Take me home. I promise I’ll never tell anyone about this. Put me back in my body. I won’t even do shows anymore if you don’t want me to.”

“You’re dead, Jeremy. There’s nothing I can do to change that.” I doubted that he would be able to keep those promises anyway. I was pretty sure that as soon as he was back in his body he’d be organising a press tour so he could tell everyone about his afterlife adventure. With me painted as the villain. I wondered how many more years community service I’d get for that.

Something in him snapped back into place and Jeremy pushed to his feet, smoothing his hair out of his face. His expression relaxed back into that smug smile I was so familiar with. “I demand to speak to the person in charge,”

I stood up and stepped back. “Well, that was a really creepy switch.”

Charon nodded, eyeing Jeremy with distaste. “I don’t like him.”

“The person in charge. Right now.” Jeremy snapped his fingers in my face several times.

I pushed his still snapping fingers down. “Okay, well, I don’t have God’s direct line so how about we get you through Arrivals first?”

“You don’t want me to speak to anyone so I won’t tell them,” Jeremy said.

“Tell them what?” I asked.

Jeremy jabbed his finger right in my face. “That you did this on purpose.”

I was about to explain that I hadn’t done anything and then a thought occurred to me. “Prove it.”

Charon arched an eyebrow at me. “Really? How is this going to get him back over with his group?”

I gave him a shrug and focused on Jeremy. “You’re right, Jeremy. You remember who you were meeting? Well, they told me you were going to be there and we killed you together.”

Jeremy shook his head. “She wouldn’t.”

“Well, she did. She was the one who stabbed you, not me. Why don’t you put some of the blame on her?”

“She would never do that.” Jeremy did a weird side to side neck jerk that made him look like a deformed chicken. “Her brother would never get through university without me. This is all you.” Jeremy waved his hand at me before I could say anything else. “I demand my phone call.”

I laughed. “Your phone call? What do you think this is?”

“Well, however you communicate with each other I demand access to that system.” Jeremy gave me a shrug that said he had no clue about this whole afterlife stuff and he wasn’t happy about being ignorant.

“Who do you want to contact?” Charon asked.

“I have a contact and I want to … contact him.”

Charon laughed. “You want to contact your contact?”

“Yes. He saw you, Bridget. He knows. When he finds out I’m dead and you killed me, he’ll sort it all out. He’ll put me back in my body and everything will be okay.”

“He who?” I asked. Could he mean Tommy? Would it be Tommy? I was positive that Tommy had some super secret, super cool job. Was he using Jeremy for something? What could he be using Jeremy for? Or maybe it wasn’t a he at all and Jeremy was trying to throw me off.

“As if I’d tell you, sweetheart.” Jeremy looked me up and down. “You’d probably put in a sexual harassment claim and get him fired.”

“Yeah, that’s not exactly how the afterlife works, Jeremy, and suddenly, I’m a little more sorry you’re dead.”

“Why? Because you’re going to be in so much trouble for killing me?”

“No. Because when you were alive I could ignore you. I don’t know whether that’s going to be as easy now you’re on my plane of existence.”

“I could cross him over again if you like. Accidents happen,” Charon offered as casually as asking me if I wanted chocolate sprinkles on my ice cream. “That way no one would know what you’d done.”

“He’d know. My contact would know,” Jeremy spluttered.

“Your contact knows about the second plane of the afterlife?” Charon asked with heavy scorn in his tone.

“Yes. He knows all about it. He knows everything.”

“So your contact is God?” I asked and Charon laughed again. “Because if you think that then we have a whole other issue.”

“He knows about the second plane. He knows all about it,” Jeremy said, aiming for smug and coming up a few feet short.

“So, I’ll cross you three times and take you to the third plane of the afterlife. Your contact won’t find you there.”

“Yes, he will,” Jeremy spluttered.

Charon shrugged. “Okay. I’ll skip all the other levels and take you straight to Hell. No one comes back from there. Shall we do that?”

“You can’t,” Jeremy shrieked. “You can’t do that.”

Charon grinned. “Pretty sure I can. So tell my little Bridget what she wants to know or that will be your next stop.”

Jeremy folded his arms and tossed his head like a five-year-old. “You wouldn’t dare.”

Charon reached out and gripped Jeremy’s wrist. They disappeared. Sean’s chanting stalled. Until then I hadn’t realised that he’d been keeping it up. Without it, the car park was eerily quiet. Several long seconds ticked by and then Charon and Jeremy reappeared. And they were smoking. Or Jeremy was. Like kindling does before the fire catches. And he smelled like sulphur.

Charon grinned at me and dusted what looked like a flake of ash from his suit. “He said his contact is called Wallace.”

“What does Wallace look like?” I asked Jeremy but his eyes had glazed over. I was pretty sure it was going to take a little while for him to bounce back, if he did bounce back. I sighed and turned to Charon. “Did you break him? I’m going to be in trouble with Sean if you broke him. It’s only my first week.”

“No, you wanted a name, I got you a name.”

“Wallace is most likely a fake name, and on its own it gives me nothing. Is it his first name? Last name? Code name? And where did you take him?” I touched the sleeve of Charon’s suit and then rubbed the residue between my fingertips.

“What was the point in asking for a name if he was going to give you a fake one? And you should’ve been more specific in your requests,” Charon snapped, evidently displeased that I wasn’t impressed by his contribution.

“Well, I didn’t know you were going to whisk him off to a fire pit and threaten to cook him for supper if he didn’t tell you, or I’d have given you a list of questions before you left.”

“Fine. What are your questions and I’ll get answers to those as well.” Charon reached out for Jeremy and Jeremy scuttled back and curled up in a ball.

“Where did you take him?” I asked, watching Jeremy shake like he was sitting on a pneumatic drill.

“Hell. He took me to Hell,” Jeremy murmured. “Don’t take me back.”

I turned to Charon. “Did you take him to Hell? Is that even a thing?”

Charon shrugged. “I took him to the centre of a volcano. I’ve taken dates there before and they’ve never reacted like that.”

I shook my head. “I have so many things to say to that I don’t really know where to start.”

“You could start with thank you,” Charon muttered.

“Thank you for your help,” I said.

Charon dusted down the front of his suit. “I don’t feel like you really mean that.”

“Well, you did kind of break him, so I only half mean it. I do fully appreciate your attempt to help, though.”

Charon made a non-committal noise and disappeared. The Bus of Death roared to life and peeled out of the car park.

“Bridget?” Sean asked, approaching us slowly.

“Yes, Sean?”

“I think we should probably get the newly transitioned inside now.”

“That’s an excellent idea. Will you help me get him up?” I asked, pointing to Jeremy.

Sean eyed me but nodded and jogged over to Jeremy. “Okay, friend, let’s get you on your feet.”

Sean reached out to Jeremy. Jeremy grabbed his arm as if it were a lifeline and climbed up onto Sean’s back. Jeremy wrapped his legs around Sean’s waist and his arms around Sean’s neck.

“Keep her away from me,” Jeremy shrieked and jabbed a finger at me. “Devil spawn!”

“Okay, now, let’s not overreact,” I mumbled.

We walked back across the car park, Sean carrying Jeremy like it wasn’t at all unusual and me stepping carefully to avoid standing on small stones in my bare feet.

“Where did the busman take him?” Sean whispered.

“Inside a live volcano,” I said.

“Oh, that would’ve been so fascinating!” Sean spoke over his shoulder to Jeremy. “You’re so lucky. What a treat. He must really have liked you.” Sean turned back to me. “Maybe next time you could talk to me about it first, though. I don’t think our newbie was fully prepared.”

“You’re right, Sean, I’m sorry.”

“No harm, no foul, Bridget,” Sean said with a happy smile. We reached the rest of the group and Sean rounded everyone like a human sheepdog and herded them toward the door. I rushed ahead and opened it, making sure to pick up my shoes as I went. Sean passed through first with Jeremy still on his back. Malice shined in Jeremy’s eyes. He leaned to the side so he could whisper to me as Sean carried him through the door.

“Wallace will make you pay for this.”

Chapter Seven

“What happened?” Sabrina stared at my face when I joined her at lunch. “Did something happen? I can’t tell anymore. You’ll have to stop wearing the eyeliner—it’s throwing me off.”

“Oz said the same thing to me this morning,” I grumbled and placed my tray on the table before dusting the crumbs off my chair.

Sabrina frowned. “He said your eyeliner was throwing him off?”

“Not exactly, but he was worried about the attention this look might garner so he told me to tone it down. Don’t know why he bothered—it’s garnered no attention whatsoever.”

Sabrina hesitated. “You’re upset because no one has hit on you?”

“I just want a bit of a pick me up, that’s all. I look so pretty.”

Sabrina pressed her lips together. I was pretty sure she was trying not to laugh at me. “Maybe that’s the problem. You’re too pretty and guys are intimated.”

I nodded. “Guys are stupid.”

“Also, you find dead bodies a lot, so that might be a bit of a turnoff.”

“Wow. I feel so much better for talking to you,” I said and dipped a sweet potato chip in the mountain of sour cream dip on my plate. “Guess who got off the bus at Afterlife Arrivals this morning?”

“Elvis?”

I stared at Sabrina. “No.”

“Was it Marilyn Monroe? I’ve heard rumours of witchcraft.”

“You believe in magic?” I asked, chip halfway to my mouth.

Sabrina gestured around us. “We’re dead and eating lunch in a canteen full of ghosts. My perspective on a lot of things has changed.”

“But magic, though? That’s just crazy talk.”

“Was that who got off the bus? Marilyn Monroe?”

“No.”

“Rasputin?”

“I don’t know why I play these games with you,” I said with a shake of my head.

“So give me a clue,” Sabrina said as she stole one of my chips and dipped it into the sour cream before eating it. She pushed her plate of pasta away and pulled my plate in between us. She cut my gigantic burger in half and spread some dip between the top two burgers on her half. “What?”

“I’m pretty sure there were burgers when you went to get your lunch,” I said as I watched her mangle my food.

“Yeah, but I didn’t fancy it until now,” she said and took a bite from her half of my burger.

In all honesty, I didn’t mind. I realised I might have gotten a bit carried away when the chips were heaped so high I’d had to do an egg-and-spoon race walk to the table.

“What’s with the mountain of food anyway? And who showed up at Arrivals?” she asked around her mouthful.

“The person’s name starts with ‘J’ and ends in ‘eremy’.” I bit into a chip with more aggression than necessary as I remembered his sneering threat about Wallace.

Sabrina lowered the burger from her mouth “Jeremy? Jeremy was at Arrivals today? You questioned him, right? What did he say? Did he tell you who killed him?” Sabrina angled her head and focused on the far wall of the canteen. “Are we even allowed to ask that? Morally speaking. If it makes murdered people crazy to remember their deaths, then should we be pushing them down that road? Although, it would make life much easier if he could tell us. Did you ask?”

I gestured to myself with a chip. “Are you talking to me now?”

Sabrina gave me a flat stare. “Yes. Did you ask who killed him?”

“He seemed to think I killed him. Or at least that I was involved somehow. And then, after Charon took him on a romantic rendezvous to the heart of a volcano, he gave up Wallace as the name of his contact.”

A clump of dip fell from Sabrina’s burger while she processed that news. Finally, she shook her head. “Nope. I’m going to need that from the beginning.”

So, I filled her in from the beginning.

“I’m not touching the whole volcano trip because I don’t really know what to do with it other than say Charon sounds like an intense guy to date.” Sabrina checked over her shoulder as if she expected him to pop up and move her on to the next plane of the afterlife in penance for that comment. “And I really don’t want to agree with Jeremy but it does seem unlikely that his informant would’ve killed him if he’s helping her brother out.”

“I thought the same thing.” I picked up my half of my burger and took a bite before Sabrina decided my half looked nicer than hers.

“That still doesn’t rule her out for sure, though. And who’s Wallace? And why does Jeremy have a contact?”

“I don’t know,” I said, speaking around my mouthful of burger. “I’m not sure I can get Jeremy to tell me either. Can you maybe fi-oogle him?”

“Fi-oogle?”

“You know. Google him in your files. Fi-oogle. Do your magic.”

“I know you don’t think hunting through a football field of filing cabinets is the equation to googling.”

“There’s a football field full of filing cabinets?” That seemed like a lot.

“Yes, and that’s only my floor. I don’t feel like you’re fully appreciating my sneaky investigative skills here,” Sabrina said.

“Do now. What did you manage to find out this morning?”

“All I managed to get was a list of the shopping trip attendees. We have newbies at the moment which means there’s training going on so there are a lot more people around than normal. Makes it difficult to fi-oogle.”

“Well, that’s inconvenient,” I said and then took a bite of my burger.

“I know, right? Also, I sent Edith a text this morning asking her to meet us later but she said she was otherwise engaged. I didn’t push her because I didn’t want to give our surprise attack away.”

“Did she say what she was otherwise engaged with?” I asked around my mouthful.

Sabrina shook her head. “And how are we going to find anything out about this Wallace? There was no Wallace, first or last name, on the list of shoppers. Although, if this Wallace is a contact of some sort, I’m guessing he wouldn’t have registered to attend the shopping trip in the same way as you. If he registered at all.”

I sighed. I could feel the conspiracy theory vibrating in her brain. “Spit it out.”

“I think this Wallace might be a GB.”

“Why?”

“Because it sounds like a code name.” Sabrina rolled the name around her mouth. “Wallace.”

I stared at her. “Wow. You’re insane.”

“Just because I’m paranoid doesn’t mean they’re not out to get me.”

“Yeah, except they’re not out to get you. They’re out to get me,” I said.

Sabrina pointed her baby finger out at me as she picked up her burger. “Who’s paranoid now?”

“Yeah, you’re totally right. It’s paranoia. No one has ever tried to kill me. And, to get back to your point, what would a GB want with a medium as a contact? GBs have access to the afterlife. It’s not like they would need them to summon people.”

Sabrina shook her head. “Who knows what mediums can do or who they can reach if given the proper direction and instruction.”

I gave her a sideways glance. “Are we talking about magic again because …”

Sabrina pursed her lips at me. “Do you know what the GBs do with mediums? No, you don’t. Do you know what they’re capable of on this side of the mortal plane? No, you don’t. So loosen those judgey-pants.”

“Someone’s a bit sensitive about their paranoia,” I mumbled.

“And it’s odd that you overheard that conversation in the stairwell. Seems conveniently well timed.”

“Well, a medium had been murdered the night before when they were both there,” I said.

“And who’s the person they were talking about saying they needed more mediums? Okay. Here’s the plan of attack. I’ll try and snoop through the files and see who has a brother at university. You throw this Wallace name around a bit and see what happens.”

“You mean see if anyone tries to kill me?”

Sabrina coughed. “Paranoid.”

“Oh, you’re hilarious.” I said, pointing a chip at her. “Oh! And Janice was there as well.”

Sabrina lifted the last of her burger to her mouth and paused. “Where? At Arrivals?”

“Uh-huh. And it was weird because I’m pretty sure she was about to make another complaint against me for loitering or something but then she changed her mind when she heard the GBs in the stairwell and scarpered.”

“Like she didn’t want to be seen there? But you’d seen her. And if she was going to make another complaint about you then she’d have to detail when and where the incident happened. So why scarper?”

“No idea. I probably misread the situation. Y’know, with my paranoia and all?”

“Are you sure about getting your housemates involved in this?” Sabrina grinned at me, not touching the paranoia comment.

“No. I’d rather none of us were involved in this but I can’t talk them out of it. I figure if they’re going to do it anyway it’s better if we have some sort of control over it. Teach them how to do it without drawing heaps of attention to themselves.”

“Because you’re so good at that,” Sabrina said before popping the last of her burger in her mouth and wiping her hands on a napkin.

“No. That’s why you’re teaching them. And I need to find a self-defence instructor.”

Sabrina paused mid-chew. “So, you’re really going all out here?”

I sighed. “I can’t stop them from getting involved, so let’s make them as safe as possible.”

“I’m not happy about this.” Sabrina spoke around her mouthful.

“I thought you wanted them involved last time?”

“That was before I knew them.”

“You mean, when they were expendable?”

“Not expendable exactly,” Sabrina said.

“Who’s not expendable?” Charlie asked, as he sat down at the table.

“And why are you sharing food?” Pete asked. “I’m pretty sure there’s enough to go around.”

“I’m not saying that, Pam. I’m only saying that I think you could branch out from sundresses from time to time,” Lucy said as she sat next to Sabrina.

“And you must get cold in the winter,” Petal added as she sat down next to me, giving me a smile and a small shoulder nudge.

“I don’t really feel it,” Pam came from behind us and settled down next to Pete. “Probably because I lived in the north so long I’m weathered now.”

“What’s going on?” Pete asked, his attention roving around the table. “Who are you people? Why are you sitting at our table?”

“Wow, Pete, way to be welcoming and inclusive,” Sabrina chided and addressed my housemates. “Ignore him. I’d say he’s grumpy because he’s not eaten yet but he’s always like this.”

“Hi Pete. I’m Petal.” Petal offered him her hand and her sunny smile with uncharacteristic confidence.

He looked at me, Sabrina and then back to Petal. It was a moment before Pete recovered, but he wiped his already clean hands on a napkin and shook Petal’s hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Petal. This is Charlie.” Petal shook their hands and they exchanged nice-to-meet-you platitudes.

Petal turned to me and grinned. I placed my arm around her shoulders and gave her a quick squeeze as Lucy and Pam told her how well she’d done and Sabrina leaned around me to squeeze her hand.

“We’re working on her confidence,” I explained.

“Well, you came across self-possessed,” Charlie complimented her.

“I don’t like this new Bridget,” Pete said, swirling his fork in my direction while eyeing my housemates. “The eyeliner. The being nice to people. The hugging. I don’t understand her.”

“So what are we doing about the dead guy Bridget found last night?” Lucy asked.

Pete nodded. “Ohhh. Now I see what’s happened. You’ve spread your crazy around.”

“Are you always this rude?” Petal asked Pete.

“I prefer to think of it as being direct,” Pete said, combating Petal’s frown with a smile before stuffing some sort of chicken wrap in his mouth.

“Charlie? Pete?” A man in a grey jumpsuit of the fully trained facilitators hovered at the head of our table.

“Hi, Matt, everything alright?” Charlie asked.

“Maybe. Maybe not. There’s a mandatory meeting for all facilitators starting in a few minutes.” Matt gestured around the hall to the mass migration of grey and mauve jumpsuits.

“When was this organised?” Pete asked, packing up his tray.

Matt shrugged. “We only found out about it a few minutes ago. It’s in conference room B. Can you let any other facilitators know on your way?”

“Sure thing.” Charlie got up and nodded around the table. “Ladies, it was a pleasure.”

“Do you know what it’s about?” Pete asked Matt as he followed Charlie to his feet.

“Guess we’ll find out in a few minutes,” Matt said before he walked to the next table of facilitators and repeated the same message.

Pete pointed his half eaten wrap at me. “This is to do with your dead guy. Do not investigate this. You have no reason. This will end poorly for you.”

“Right, because normally it ends in sunshine and rainbows,” I retorted.

“I mean it,” Pete called over his shoulder as he and Charlie headed to dump their trays and leave the canteen.

“We’re still going to investigate this, right?” Sabrina asked. “That meeting has made it all the more fascinating.”

“Can we get back to who Wallace might be, why Jeremy would have a contact and what that would mean?” I asked and nodded in answer to Sabrina’s first question.

“Mediums occasionally have contact with GBs because they can provide valuable information,” Petal explained.

Sabrina and I stared at Petal while Pam and Lucy continued to eat, unperturbed by this revelation.

“How do you know this, Petal?” I asked.

Petal checked over both shoulders to make sure no one was close enough to eavesdrop. “I’m an interdepartmental facilitator.”

“What does that mean?” I whispered back.

“It means that anytime anyone needs official contact with someone in another department they have to file a request. Petal’s department sorts those requests. Right?” Sabrina asked and Petal nodded while slurping her juice through a straw. “So, really, since there was no Wallace on the list of people who were at your shopping trip then Petal is perfectly placed to snoop though Jeremy’s file and find out who Wallace is.”

“I already checked the files this morning on the off chance and Jeremy’s wasn’t there,” Petal said before I could explain how not okay with this I was. Questioning a murderer somehow seemed less dangerous than snooping through some super-secret set of files. Realistically, it was probably the other way around. But since I had no idea how these offices operated, I couldn’t help Petal if she got caught. And Oz would kill me.

“It must be there, though,” Sabrina said with a frown. “If he was informing or doing something that required a handler then his file should’ve been in your office.”

“Who’s Wallace?” Lucy slurped her drink.

“We don’t know,” Sabrina explained slowly with a glance my way that said maybe it wasn’t the best idea to have involved my housemates after all.

“Then why are we talking about him?” Pam asked, looking between Sabrina and me.

I snapped my fingers at Sabrina “They weren’t here for that bit.”

“We should definitely find out who this Wallace is if he’s going to kill Bridget,” Lucy agreed after we’d caught them up. “Where do we start?”

“Maybe you could ask your GB friend,” Pam suggested. “Sabrina’s already checking thirty or so people’s files for a mention of a brother or anything suspicious. It’s only fair that you contribute.”

“Thank you, Pam,” Sabrina said with a pointed look my way.

“She’s not checking them, Pam, because there’s training going on,” I said in a haughty tone, not at all happy with Pam’s implication that I wasn’t pulling my investigative weight. “And I could but he’s more of a taker than a giver. How about we focus on finding a way to subtly question the other shoppers for suspects in Jeremy’s murder and leave Wallace for another day?”

“That sounds like an acceptable plan,” Lucy agreed. “And we’ll know who Wallace is when he tries to kill you anyway.”

“This is true.” I wasn’t sure I liked how blasé Lucy was about my impending death.

“This seems like a good division of resources. Despite the training I’ll try and snoop something out while you all subtly question people for suspects in Jeremy’s murder,” Sabrina agreed.

“You mean like on the down-low? We can be covert operatives extracting sensitive info,” Lucy said before sucking up the remains of her lemonade through a straw. Where had they gotten the straws from? I hadn’t seen straws anywhere.

“We’ve been watching a lot of spy films,” I explained when Sabrina arched an eyebrow at me. “Okay, how about Sabrina gives us some pointers on covert questioning?”

“That’s a good idea,” Pam said. “How about we pretend we’re questioning Bridget and Sabrina can help us. Lucy, you go first. Show us your best covert you.”

Lucy smiled at me and slurped her drink. “Hi, Bridget. How are you?”

“I’m well, thanks, Lucy. How are you?”

“I’m good, too. Did you kill the dead guy?”

Chapter Eight

“Yay! I’m glad you’re back!” Sean clapped on his clipboard as I appeared in the tunnelling room.

“Do people not come back?” I asked.

“Don’t be silly. Everyone comes back.”

I was going to ask, if that was the case, why he seemed so excited about my return but then another induction leader appeared on a tunnelling circle three places over.

“Greg! I’m so excited you’re back!” Sean exclaimed.

“Sean! I’m so excited to be back!” Greg slapped Sean on the shoulder as he passed.

“Has he been away somewhere?” I asked. I was sure I’d seen him when we’d been walking the newly transitioned to their induction suite earlier.

Sean nodded. “Lunch.”

I nodded to myself. “Right.”

“Come on,” Sean beckoned to me with his clipboard and I followed him out of the tunnelling room.

“Who’re they?” I asked, nodding toward the sluggish queue of people on the right of the corridor.

“More newly transitioned,” Sean said in a stage whisper.

“Marsha? Hey, Marsha.” A beanpole of a man, with curly ginger hair, stepped out of the queue and jogged toward me. He looked familiar but dressed in a grey hoodie and black skinny fit jeans it took me a moment to place him.

“Magnificent Malcolm?” I asked and glanced around us to make sure we were in Afterlife Arrivals and hadn’t somehow stepped back into the alive world. “Are you dead?”

“Looks like,” he said. “Not quite what I was expecting. You couldn’t have given me a heads-up?”

I shook my head. “I couldn’t. And even if I could I wouldn’t have. Why ruin your life by telling you this was where you came when you died?”

Magnificent Malcolm looked around. “Doesn’t seem so bad to me.”

“How did you kick it?” I asked, because that made two mediums in two days.

“Car accident, I think.”

“I was hit by a bus. I feel your pain.”

“Do you remember actually being hit?” Magnificent Malcolm glanced over his shoulder as if checking no one was listening. “Like the exact moment?”

“Not the moment of impact. Why?”

Relief flooded Magnificent Malcolm’s face. “Oh, okay. I thought something was wrong with me. It’s weird but I can’t exactly remember the car accident. I’d done a reading. I was packing up my stuff. Then I was on my way somewhere. We were driving, someone else was there. Someone I knew …” Magnificent Malcolm shook his head again, then exhaled a relieved breath. “I thought there was something wrong with me. But if you don’t remember either then I guess that’s normal.”

“It’s probably not something you want to remember,” I said.

“I’m sure you’re right.”

“Do you remember where you were going?” I asked. Because even though Magnificent Malcolm remembered a car crash, which meant he hadn’t been murdered, my possibly paranoid brain thought it was a pretty big coincidence he was dead.

“No. I do remember the trip here, though. Coming to my senses on a bus.” Malcolm leaned closer. “With Charon. How cool is that? Although, he was less welcoming than I’d have imagined. And a bit on the snappy side.”

Sean cleared his throat to get my attention. “Oh, I’m sorry. Where are my manners? Sean, this is Magnificent Malcolm. He used to be one of the mediums I’d deliver messages to when I was a facilitator.”

“Nice to meet you, Sean.” Magnificent Malcolm extended his hand.

Sean checked around and quickly shook it before leaning in to whisper to me. “That wasn’t what I meant, Bridget.”

“What’s a facilitator?” Magnificent Malcolm looked between us. “And I thought your name was Marsha.”

“It’s Bridget but I couldn’t tell you that when you were alive in case you tried to summon me. And you should probably keep your questions to yourself until you’ve made it through Arrivals. They don’t like it if you ask questions.”

“But what if I don’t understand something?” Magnificent Malcolm asked. I was about to throw my hands up in an “exactly” gesture but Sean took hold of my sleeve and urged me away.

“Just don’t question it. Look vacant, get through Arrivals. I’ll find you once you’re through and help you settle in, okay? And do not let anyone know you’re a medium!” I hissed, suddenly aware that I’d already made that misstep by announcing it in the corridor.

“Oh, Marsha—I mean Bridget?” Magnificent Malcolm followed me along the corridor. “How does communication work here?”

“Communication? Why?” The sinking feeling in my stomach said I already knew the answer.

“I have a contact here,”

“Wallace?” I asked.

“Yeah, do you know him?”

“Bridget, we have to go,” Sean hissed and tugged on my sleeve.

“I can find him for you. What does he look like?” I asked.

Magnificent Malcolm shrugged. “Brown hair, brown eyes, average-ish looking.”

Well, that sounded like the description of every GB I’d ever seen. “What does he wear when he visits?”

Magnificent Malcolm shrugged again. “White suits like the rest of you. I’m not much help, am I?”

“Bridget!” Sean tugged on my sleeve again.

“What does he ask you? What does he want from you?” I asked.

“What’s going on here?” Officer Treble asked from behind me.

I stepped back from Magnificent Malcolm and shook my head. “Nothing. He just keeps asking me if I’ve bought any fish fingers in a weird comatose sort of way.” I gave Magnificent Malcolm a subtle nod as a cue for him to ask.

“Did you get any fish fingers? I like fish fingers,” Magnificent Malcolm said in a decent impression of a zombie.

“You again? What are you up to now?” Officer Richards asked as he strolled up to us.

Sean stepped in front of me. “Nothing. This man just keeps asking for fish fingers.”

“Did you get any fish fingers?” Magnificent Malcolm asked again.

“Why do they always want fish fingers?” Richards muttered while eyeing Magnificent Malcolm.

“We’ll be on our way then,” Sean said, backing away and dragging me with him.

Neither GBs commented and Treble shuffled Magnificent Malcolm back into line. Thankfully, Magnificent Malcolm went without argument.

I wasn’t sure why it was important to me that he made it through Arrivals, or that no one found out he was a medium, but it felt important. I’d liked Magnificent Malcolm. He’d always been polite. He’d chat a bit whenever I’d visited him, not about important stuff but he’d made me feel normal for a minute. And I didn’t know why I didn’t want the GBs to get hold of him. It wasn’t like I thought they tortured people. Well, not in a physical way, just in a regular bureaucratic way with endless pointless forms. Although, if Wallace was a GB, chances were they already had their hooks into him.

“You can’t talk to people like that, Bridget.” Sean threw a backward glance at the queue while still scurrying us forward.

“Why?” I asked. “It wasn’t as though I spilled any afterlife secrets.”

“No, I mean, you can’t talk to that sort of people. They can be … unpredictable.”

“What sort of person is he?” I asked and glanced back over my shoulder to see Magnificent Malcolm keeping his head down. “And unpredictable how?”

“If he’s a medium then that makes him a double M,” Sean whispered as we rounded the corner. He stopped and peeked back along the corridor we’d come from as if checking no one was following us. “And they’re dangerous. A single M is bad but a double M?”

“What’s a double M?”

“A murdered medium.”

I frowned at Sean. “How do you know he was murdered?”

“How did you die?” Sean asked.

“I was hit by a bus.”

Sean tutted. “That’ll teach you to look both ways before you cross a road.”

“Not really, since now I’m dead traffic zooms straight through me.”

“But I bet you still take extra caution. Do you remember the bus hitting you?” he asked before I could challenge his first point.

“Not the moment of impact, no. I remember seeing it coming. And feeling like everything was moving in slow motion. And I knew I had to move but I couldn’t get out of the way. I remember watching some tramp try and give me mouth-to-mouth to get her picture in the paper. I remember Charon collecting me.”

“See!” Sean wafted his clipboard in my direction as if I’d proved his point. His point that he was yet to make. “Dying is a shock but the brain remembers. Not the exact moment of death but the seconds before. Unless the experience is too traumatic and the brain blocks it out.”

“Magnificent Malcolm remembered. He was in a car crash.”

“No, he assumed he was in a car crash because the last thing he remembers was driving somewhere.”

“Well, I assumed the bus hit me because the last thing I remember was it careening toward me.”

“Yes, but you have a clear memory of the seconds before and afterward.”

“So if you’re a bit fuzzy on your death details it means you were murdered?” I asked. I knew that if you didn’t remember how you died then you’d been murdered but I didn’t realise there were subtleties to it. Like, you could assume you died a different way.

Sean gave me a one-shoulder shrug. “There are exceptions, like in everything, but they are unbelievably rare.”

Well, shoot. That was two murdered mediums in less than a day. Wasn’t that suspicious? Magnificent Malcolm liked me, so surely he’d talk to me about Wallace if I could sneak back and talk to him. Before I could think of a good excuse Sean spun me around and placed both his hands on my upper back. He pretended as though I were super hard to move while gently nudging me in the direction of our induction room.

When I started walking he dropped his hands and walked beside me in his bouncy, happy walk.

“Why are double M’s dangerous?” I asked.

Sean sighed out my name. “Bridget.”

“Don’t you think it would be good for me to know so I don’t keep talking to him like he’s my friend when really there’s a crazy killer bubbling beneath the surface waiting for any excuse to pop out and mutilate me?”

Sean gave me a sidelong glance. “That does seem like a reasonable point.”

“So?”

“In general, they have more trouble adjusting than the average afterlife person because they’ve been peering into the afterlife for their entire alive life. So when they get here and realise it’s nothing like what they’ve been seeing they can feel cheated,” Sean explained. “And then, they’re usually drafted into the GBs or elsewhere and asked to keep using their gifts to observe the rest of us afterlife folks or peer into the next plane. They become disillusioned. Reasonably so, I guess. And then they get angry. And then they get crazy. And if they’ve been murdered on top of that? You know murdered people find it hard to adjust anyway, but if they’re murdered and a medium? Minimum safe distance would be never speaking to him again, okay, Bridget?”

“I have so many questions.” I held my hand up to count them off. “Where is the ‘elsewhere’ they could be drafted to? What are they looking at in the next plane? What are they looking at on this plane? How do they locate us? How do you know all this?”

Sean shrugged and did an odd side to side shuffle dance. “People don’t give me much credit so they talk about things they think I don’t understand.”

I watched him doing his little dance and tried to work out if he was really simple and regurgitated information he’d overheard without realising the weight of what it could mean or if he was really a super villain in disguise. And then, before I’d made up my mind, he jumped in the air and did some weird type of dance kick thing. He pulled a magnetic card from his pocket, swiped it across the door of our induction room and threw it open.

“How’re we doing, everyone?” he asked with extra pep as he bounded to the front of the room.

Twenty-nine of the thirty people in the room ignored Sean. They were all in their zombified-dead state.

“Well, these forms are pointless. I am absolutely not filling them out. I’m hungry. And I’m tired of being cooped up in this room,” Jeremy snapped. Clearly, he’d used the lunch break to regain his snarky composure.

“Aww, that’s too bad, Jeremy,” I said as I closed the door behind me, hearing the magnet snap back into place. It was really quite ingenious. When I’d died I couldn’t work out how they’d managed to lock us in.

“What are you going to do about it?” he said and it sounded more like an accusation.

I shrugged. “Nothing. You’re dead so you won’t die if you don’t eat and you can’t leave Arrivals until you’ve filled those forms. If it takes you a thousand years, then that’s what it takes.”

“I think what Bridget means”—Sean shot a pointed look in my direction—“is that form filling is fun! Don’t you love talking about yourself?”

“He’s got your number,” I said to Jeremy.

Jeremy scowled at me. He slapped his pen down on the table and folded his arms. “I refuse.”

Sean made a shooing motion. I sighed and walked along behind the back row until I got to Jeremy.

“Fill out the forms, Jeremy. The sooner they’re filled out the sooner you can move on to the next stage.” I picked up Jeremy’s pen and offered it to him.

Jeremy glanced from the pen to me. “What’s the next stage?”

“Queuing. Lots of queuing. Possibly days of queuing.”

“But there will be an express line for VIPs like me,” Jeremy said and I was so tempted to tell him there would be just to get him to fill the damn forms out. But there wouldn’t be. At least I didn’t think there would. And it really depended on what he meant by VIP. Maybe I could tell him that his contact Wallace could get him through the process much faster if he filled out the forms. Or if he gave me some information on Wallace so I could contact him.

By the time I’d worked all of these options through it was too late. The expression on Jeremy’s face told me he wasn’t going to believe whatever I said.

With the back of his hand, Jeremy deliberately pushed my hand that was offering him the pen away from him. “You have no authority to make me do anything.”

I leaned in closer to whisper. “Maybe not. But I can get my friend to come back and drop you into another volcano. Or maybe some shark-infested waters. Or an ant hill. Or a snake pit.” I looked over to Sean, who was watching me with narrowed eyes. I grinned at him and gave him a thumbs up. He grinned back at me and returned the gesture.

“Do it, Jeremy. Or you will not like the consequences.” I stood, placed the pen on the table and walked back toward a smiling Sean. It made me oddly happy that he was pleased with me.

“Okay,” Sean clapped on his clipboard as I hovered to the side, observing like a good trainee. “Now you guys might be a little surprised to hear this but …” Sean drew the word out as he looked around the room, “You’re all dead! Isn’t that exciting?”

“Okay!” Jeremy slapped his palm on the table. “Get me Wallace. Right now. I’m not sitting through this.”

Sean looked to me and then back to Jeremy. “Who’s Wallace?”

“He’s my handler.” Jeremy leaned back in his chair and delivered the line as if it somehow made him special.

“What do you mean ‘handler’?” Sean asked and looked to me again. How did Sean know a heap of other stuff but not know about mediums’ afterlife handlers? Surely he’d come across this situation before.

Jeremy jumped to his feet and knocked his chair to the floor. “My afterlife contact, you imbecile!”

Sean tucked his clipboard under his arm and held his hands up as if he could pat Jeremy’s anger down. “Now, there’s no need—”

“Get him now!” Jeremy screamed like a five-year-old having a tantrum. He picked up his pen and flung it at Sean. It flew through the air like a dart and bounced off Sean’s chest. It left a tiny black dot of ink where it impacted. Jeremy picked up his stack of forms and flung them in Sean’s direction too. They didn’t reach Sean but rained down on the people in the front row like huge chunks of confetti. The zombies batted the paper out of the way without looking up, completely oblivious to the drama.

Sean’s face was slack with shock. “Now, now, let’s just—”

“Now!” Jeremy roared. “Are you stupid? Have whatever happy pills you’re on rotted your brain.”

Sean gaped at Jeremy, hurt all over his face. Before I really understood why Sean’s unhappiness bothered me so much I grabbed Sean’s clipboard and I strode to the other side of the room. I came to an abrupt halt right in front of Jeremy.

“Oh, what are you going to do? Call your friend back to fight your battles for you?” he sneered. If I’d been calmer I’d have pointed out the irony in that statement, since he was having a tantrum to make his “friend” come and rescue him. But I wasn’t calmer. So I lifted the clipboard and tapped it down on his forehead.

Not hard enough to do any real damage. Or any damage at all. It was really just a tap. Jeremy stumbled back from me, clutching his forehead as if I’d taken a sledgehammer to it.

“Bridget …” Sean breathed from the other side of the room and I was pretty sure it was awe in his voice.

“You’re crazy!” Jeremy screeched, both hands holding his forehead. I really hadn’t tapped him that hard. It had been more to shock him out of his attitude.

“I was trying to knock some sense into you,” I said.

“Is that what you’d like me to put in the report, Ms Sway?” Officer Leonard asked from behind me.

“I’d prefer you not to write a report at all.” I stepped back so Officer Leonard could see that Jeremy was unharmed.

“Finally! Get me out of this place,” Jeremy demanded.

“I’ve told you. You need to fill out those forms.” I made a sweeping gesture to encompass the mess of paper scattered in front of him.

Jeremy stepped closer to Officer Leonard. “Do something, Wallace.”

Chapter Nine

“I was hoping you’d be here early,” I called to Sabrina, who was sitting by the stone marker outside the fort.

“Aww, I missed you too, sweetie pie,” Sabrina cooed and watched as I struggled to cover the small distance to her, wobbling as my heels partially sank into the grass. “Do you need some help?”

“I’m fine.” Beautiful as my four-inch heels were, they were not made for walking on grass. Why had this never been a problem before? Surely, I’d walked on grass in my alive life.

“Really? Because it looks like the grass is swallowing your shoes. Why don’t you take them off?”

“Do you have any idea how long I’ve had to wait for these?” I managed to pull one shoe out of the mud only to find I’d pushed the other in deeper. It wasn’t even like it had rained—how was the ground so soft? I scowled at Sabrina, stepped out of my shoes and crossed the distance to her.

Sabrina looked up at me. “Are you going to sit down?”

I pinched the material of my jumpsuit and held it out to the side. “I’m wearing white.”

“Okay. I can’t deal with Eyeliner Bridget anymore today. Can Normal Bridget come out to play for a bit?”

“I’m not schizophrenic.”

“Of course you’re not,” Sabrina said in a tone that implied she thought the opposite. “Will you please sit down? It’s hurting my neck to look up at you.”

“Right, because you couldn’t stand up.”

Sabrina grabbed my hand and pulled me down. I landed in a heap next to her on the grass.

“That was not cool. If I have grass stains—”

“You’ll what? Have to wear one of your other white VTP jumpsuits? Nightmare.” Sabrina rolled her eyes. “So what did you need me here early for?”

“There was another medium at Arrivals today,” I said while arranging my shoes neatly in front of me. “Sean said because he didn’t have a death timeline he was a double M. And then Jeremy pitched a fit, so I tapped him on the head with Sean’s clipboard and Wallace showed up to take him away.”

“You always do this to me,” Sabrina complained. “You drop these huge bombs like they’re casual facts.”

“Well, that’s what you get for being mean about my shoes,” I countered.

“Tell me from the beginning.”

I related the afternoon’s events.

Sabrina nodded to herself. “Just to be clear on what we’re saying here: Two mediums have been murdered. Wallace is Officer Leonard. He took Jeremy away somewhere. If you don’t remember the seconds immediately before and immediately after your death, you’ve been murdered. And GBs use mediums as some sort of alive snitch.”

I nodded. “Yeah, I think that’s everything. Although I’m not a hundred percent on the whole alive snitch thing.”

“Who do they use them to snitch on?” Sabrina asked.

“Did you hear the part where the GBs interrupted my interrogation of Magnificent Malcolm and how Jeremy wouldn’t tell me anything?” I asked.

“Are your feet hurting from walking in those shoes? Is that why you’re grumpy?” Sabrina asked.

“I’m not grumpy. And my feet are hurting because I keep having to take my beautiful shoes off.”

“If you have to keep taking them off what’s the point in wearing them?” Sabrina asked and then waved away my response before I could make it. “We need to warn Madame Zorina if someone is bumping off mediums.”

“Initially, I thought that too, but Magnificent Malcolm and Jeremy were informants. Of some kind. They knew Wallace. Madame Zorina doesn’t.”

“That we know of,” Sabrina interrupted.

“Do you remember all her questions about the afterlife? I’m fairly sure she’s not an informant and I’m pretty sure if we tell her she’ll be jumping at her shadow and summoning me every two minutes.”

Sabrina frowned. “I don’t think she’d be that bad.”

“Yeah, that’s because it wasn’t you she summoned four times in a row to keep turning her neighbour’s music down.”

“Fair point. Ohhhh.” Sabrina grabbed my arm. “What if we text Edith under the pretence of being worried about Madame Zorina and then question Edith about Tommy and Jeremy?”

“It’s not really a pretence, is it? And why didn’t we fake something like that in the first place?” I asked.

Sabrina shook her head. “It’s all this being around dead people. It’s dulling my edge.”

“Didn’t you say Edith said she had other plans tonight, though?”

“She and Madame Zorina are friends, though, right? So, I’m pretty sure Madame Zorina’s safety trumps Edith’s other plans.”

“Maybe. And are we really not going to tell Madame Zorina? I feel a bit weird about not telling her there’s a medium-murdering murderer on the loose.”

“What? You just said you didn’t want to tell her because she’d summon you all the time,” Sabrina accused.

“I don’t want to be summoned all the time but I feel weird about—” I cut myself off with a sigh. “Nope. I was right the first time. Let’s not tell her.”

“Will you make up your mind? You’re making me dizzy.”

I offered Sabrina my hand. Sabrina stared at it for a confused moment, then slapped her hand into mine. “She’s summoning you? Wait, are we going to tell her or not?”

“Maybe. Or maybe not?” Just as I let the summoning connect I realised I wasn’t wearing shoes. I tried to grab them but my hand passed through them. If they weren’t there when I returned, regardless of it being my fault, everyone was going to feel my shoeless wrath.

We landed on Madame Zorina’s office floor in the same positions we’d been sitting on the grass. It was dark and empty.

“Are you sure she summoned you?” Sabrina scanned the room as she stood.

“No, maybe it was a sneeze.”

“Really? Are they quite similar sensations?” Sabrina asked as we stood up.

“Not even slightly.”

“So where is she?” Sabrina asked, holding her hands up and spinning around to showcase the empty office.

“Oh, she’s hiding behind her desk ready to spring out and shout surprise.”

Sabrina dropped her arms and frowned at me. “Why would she—”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Were you about to ask me another question I had no way to answer?”

“Is this attitude because I suggested you take off your shoes?” Sabrina asked as she checked behind the desk anyway.

“If they’re not still there when I get back I’m going to be incredibly unhappy with you.”

“Okay, you took them off. How about you take responsibility for that?” Sabrina asked as she peered out of the windows on one side of the room. “Aren’t you always arguing with Oz about how you’re responsible for yourself?”

“Yes, but I refuse to take responsibility for this because that would mean that if they’re not there when I get back it will be my fault and I can’t accept that.” I walked to the door and tried the handle. The door was locked. “If she’s out getting coffee again and summoned me so she doesn’t have to wait on me I’ll be so annoyed.”

“It was definitely her that summoned you?” Sabrina frowned around the locked room.

“Are we going through this again? Yes, it was her. Definitely not a sneeze. Definitely not the computer programmer next door working some voodoo.”

“You’re positive?” Sabrina stressed.

“Yes. Her summonings always have an impatient tinge to them.”

“This is weird. I think we should go.” Sabrina motioned me back into the centre of the room, checking over her shoulders. “If Madame Zorina did summon you, she’s obviously not here yet, so she can summon you again later.”

“Yes, because it’s such a pleasant experience. What if we go back and Eleanor calls the meeting to order and then I have to fight off Madame Zorina’s summoning the whole time? I’d just rather wait a minute. And to be able to summon me here she can’t be too far away anyway.”

“How far?” Sabrina asked.

I shrugged. “Why?”

“Maybe she’s testing limits because that wasn’t up to her usual summoning standard. You’re sure it was her?”

“Are you seriously asking me again? But I’m glad you said that about her standards because I thought it felt a bit rough. Like she was distracted or—”

The realisation hit us both at the same time. I ran across the room to the door on my tiptoes, Sabrina close behind. Sabrina rattled the door handle while I concentrated and stepped through the door.

We’d been practising misting, moving through solid objects, for a while. I was decent enough at it to manage a door while stressed but Sabrina wasn’t. I stepped out into the corridor while she fiddled with picking the lock.

The dimly lit hallway stretched out ahead of me. At the other end a dark figure stumbled as if he were drunk. Something about the way he was moving struck me as wrong. So I did what any self respecting person who is trying to not be murdered would do. I shouted and ran towards him.

The figure disappeared and revealed Madame Zorina. She dropped to the floor on all fours, coughing.

“What’s going on?” she rasped. One hand around her throat, she sat up and put her back against the wall.

“I think someone tried to kill you,” I said.

“Oh, really? Like I hadn’t worked that out myself,” she snapped and then coughed.

“Well, what did you ask for then?” I snapped back. “And that does not sound like gratitude for saving your life.”

“Saving my life!” she hissed at me, her face red with the effort of trying to shout. “I summoned you ages ago!”

“It wasn’t ages ago and still, I saved your life, so a little more gratitude would be appreciated, okay?”

“Gratitude?” she hissed. “Gratitude?”

“What happened?” Sabrina asked, jogging down the corridor and eyeing my folded arm, frowny face stance.

“Oh, nothing. I saved Madame Zorina’s life and now she’s giving me attitude.” I turned to Sabrina and pointed at my face. “She’s not even commented on my eyeliner.”

Sabrina whistled and shook her head at Madame Zorina. “You are so self-involved.”

I arched an eyebrow at Sabrina. “Don’t think I don’t know you’re mocking me right now.”

“Why is someone trying to kill me?” Madame Zorina asked, looking up at us.

“Probably because they met you and realised you’re ungrateful,” I said.

Sabrina shook her head at me. “What is wrong with you and this eyeliner? It’s like it’s rotted your brain. Did you at least get a good look at the attacker?”

I nodded. “It was someone. Someone definitely attacked her.”

“Someone?” Sabrina gave me a flat stare. “Seriously?”

“They might have been dressed in black. And I think it was a man because they were big enough to completely obscure Madame Zorina from my vision.”

“Oh my god! Was it the Grim Reaper?” Madame Zorina hissed.

I opened my mouth to tell her that was ridiculous, but really, who knew how we were pulled from our alive lives? I remembered the bus about to hit me and Charon showing up afterward but not the actual moment my afterlife body separated from my alive life body. I glanced at Sabrina, expecting her to say something comforting but from the expression on her face I assumed her brain had stalled out like mine. I doubted there was such a thing as the Grim Reaper. And if there was I doubly doubted he strangled your ghost out of your body. That seemed unnecessarily harsh.

“Probably not,” I said.

“What do you mean probably not?” Madame Zorina screeched. It sounded like air wheezing out of a balloon.

I shrugged. “That’s what I mean. Probably not.”

“It wasn’t Charon?” Sabrina asked and I shook my head.

“He wouldn’t get his hands dirty like that. I don’t think he really likes touching livies. Or dead folk. Or anyone, really. Also, he wouldn’t disappear if I showed up.”

“Even if he was killing someone?” Sabrina asked.

I thought about that for a second. “Yeah, he doesn’t really have much concern about that kind of stuff.”

“I don’t think either of you have the relevant level of concern about this stuff,” Madame Zorina hissed and pointed to her neck. “I nearly died.”

I rolled my eyes at her dramatics. “Yeah, well, we’re already dead so excuse me if I’m not massively disturbed by that. We came here and saved you, didn’t we? Don’t be so ungrateful because we’re not cooing over you and your slight injuries. It’s not like we’ve never been injured. You’ve never asked me about my gunshot wound, have you? No.”

“Someone shot you?” Madame Zorina’s attention ricocheted between Sabrina and me. “When did someone shoot you?”

“Is it me or are you incredibly touchy today?” Sabrina asked, giving me a sidelong glance.

“I look really pretty today and she’s not even noticed,” I said. Yes, it was whiny but I was proud of myself for not pouting. “I always tell people when they look nice. Except for Anna because I don’t like her. But, in general.”

“I was nearly strangled here!” Madame Zorina slapped the floor with her hand to emphasise her point.

“Yeah, you nearly died, big deal.” I pointed to my face. “I have eyeliner on.”

Madame Zorina pushed to her feet. She looked like she was about to get in my face about my eyeliner but she stumbled forward. I reached out to catch her and yelped as she stepped on my bare foot.

I jabbed a finger at Sabrina, rubbing the top of my foot on the calf of my other leg. “My shoes better still be there when we get back or you and I are going to have a serious problem.”

All expression dropped from Sabrina’s face. She stared down at my hands holding onto Madame Zorina’s arm. It took me a second to realise what the problem was. When I did, I flung Madame Zorina away from me as if she were diseased.

“Hey!” Madame Zorina cried but we ignored it.

“What does this mean?” I asked Sabrina.

Sabrina shook her head. “I don’t know.”

“What does what mean?” Madame Zorina looked between us. I reached out to her, tentatively. As if she were likely to bite my fingers off. She didn’t. But she did watch my finger as it jabbed into her shoulder.

“Yep,” I said as I jumped back and wiped my hand on my trousers. I didn’t know why but touching her had super creeped me out. “She’s definitely solid.”

“Of course I’m solid, you pair of fools!” she hissed at us.

“You shouldn’t be,” Sabrina said with a shake of her head. “Not to us.”

“Why?” Madame Zorina pushed her curls out of her face. She already knew why. “No. You’re doing it wrong.”

“Doing what wrong?” I asked.

She shook her head again “Touching me. You’re touching me wrong.”

“How can I touch you wrong?” I asked.

“You can touch someone inappropriately,” Sabrina offered.

“Yes, that was helpful input here when talking to our newly dead friend,” I said to Sabrina.

“I only meant—”

I waggled my hand at Sabrina to shush her. “When Jeremy died he could still lean on stuff. At least for the first minute or so, before he realised he was dead.”

“So maybe there’s some weird transitional thing,” Sabrina suggested. “Like, if he was dead he could still lean on stuff as a holdover from being alive. Whereas maybe we can touch Madame Zorina as a holdover from her nearly being dead. But she’s actually still alive.”

“That’s my preference,” Madame Zorina said, pointing to Sabrina.

I nodded. “Yeah. Or she’s dead. But then Jeremy moved through fixtures that were solid to me so—”

“I thought you two had a GA meeting now,” Edith said as she walked along the corridor toward us.

Sabrina nodded. “We do but Madame Zorina summoned us.”

“No, she summoned me. She always summons me,” I clarified.

“Okay, are you annoyed at me because of your shoes or at her because of her not noticing the eyeliner?” Sabrina asked.

“Both of you. For both things!” I snapped.

“I can’t comment on your shoes since—” Edith nodded to my dirty and bare feet. “But I do like your eyeliner, dear.”

I gestured to Edith but spoke to Madame Zorina. “See how easy that was?”

“Well, gee, Bridget, I’m sorry I didn’t notice your makeup but I was busy being strangled to death!” Madame Zorina hissed in my face.

“Okay, there’s that tone again. And I saved you,” I reminded her.

“Well, you didn’t do a good job if I’m dead!” Madame Zorina retorted.

“Why does she think she’s dead, dear?” Edith asked Sabrina.

“Because someone strangled her to death,” Sabrina replied. “So she might actually be dead.”

“Someone tried to kill me!” Madame Zorina hissed and pointed to her neck.

“Who?” Edith looked around us. “Where are they? You didn’t let them go, did you?”

“It was a ghost. He disappeared when I stepped out into the corridor,” I explained.

“It was the Grim Reaper,” Madame Zorina shrieked.

Edith looked between Sabrina and me for an explanation.

“It was someone dressed in black,” I explained.

“In black, as in a jumper and some trousers or in black as in a jumpsuit?” Edith asked.

“Black as in black,” I said.

“You don’t remember?” Madame Zorina asked.

“He was strangling you. Don’t you remember?” I said.

“No! I was too busy trying not to die!”

“Well, you sucked at that!” I shouted back.

Madame Zorina’s bottom lip trembled and then she covered her face with her hands and sobbed.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” I said, hugging her.

“What’s wrong with her?” Edith asked Sabrina.

“First, she hates people. Then her heart stops and it makes her weirdly nice. Then she gets eyeliner and a pair of heels and it makes her weirdly superficial and mean. But, right now, I think she’s nice Bridget again.” Sabrina shook her head. “I can’t keep up. I think dying has made her bipolar.”

“I meant with Madame Zorina,” Edith said.

Sabrina shrugged. “Oh, well, as you can see. Nice Bridget’s hugging her, so I’m pretty sure she’s dead. And I thought you had other plans this evening?”

“Ladies?” Edith ignored Sabrina’s question and clapped her hands to get our attention.

I pulled away from Madame Zorina, who was still sobbing, and offered her a pack of tissues. I rode The Bus of Death with Charon every weekend. People cried a lot. I’d learned the easiest way to deal with it was pass them a tissue and move on. Speaking of Charon, he was usually a lot more punctual than this. I checked my wrist for my watch and for the millionth time cursed myself for not putting it on the day I’d died. And then again for not getting one on my shopping spree. Maybe I could get one tonight.

“Bridget?” Edith asked. I turned and realised all three woman were staring at me.

“Yes?”

“I’m telling you, there’s something in that eyeliner,” Sabrina mumbled.

“I said, did the attacker take Madame Zorina’s body with him?” Edith asked with exaggerated patience.

I shook my head. “I don’t think so.”

“Maybe he wasn’t even dressed in black. Maybe you got some eyeliner in your eye,” Sabrina grumbled.

“Hey! This is expertly applied. So that would never happen.” I folded my arms and scowled back at her scowl. “What’s wrong with you? Are you not happy because I’m pretty now?”

“No, I’m not happy because you’re swinging from mean girl Bridget to nicey-nice Bridget to regular Bridget, who I love. I don’t mind the eyeliner or the heels as long as the regular Bridget is wearing them,” Sabrina explained.

“I haven’t had it in ages, okay? Oz is likely to take it away from me at any moment when he realises that I’ve corrupted my housemates, so I’m trying to make the most of it and no one is appreciating it. Alright?” I adjusted my fringe and wondered if he’d take my conditioner too. Surely, he wouldn’t go that far.

“I hate to interrupt, but can we focus on my problems for a moment, please?” Madame Zorina asked. “I think my loss of life outranks Bridget’s possible loss of eyeliner.”

“Says you,” I mumbled.

“Bridget!” Edith snapped at me. “Did the man take Madame Zorina’s body?”

“It happened pretty fast. And he had his back to me. So he could have and I might not have seen it. And will everyone stop snapping at me, please?”

Edith pursed her lips. “If he’d killed her we’d be standing over her body. Unless he took it with him. So, she might not be dead.”

Sabrina reached out and slapped Madame Zorina’s arm with the back of her hand. “Feels pretty dead to me.”

Edith stared at Sabrina. “Yes. That was very scientific. Well done, dear. You’ve solved that mystery.”

“Why are you giving me attitude?” Sabrina asked.

“Not nice, is it?” I mumbled.

“I don’t feel dead,” Madame Zorina said, her voice still hoarse, as she patted herself.

Sabrina threw a pointed look at Edith. “Not going to comment on the scientific nature of her assumption?”

“That means nothing,” I said to Madame Zorina as I patted my own arm. “I don’t feel dead to me either.”

“What does that mean?” Madame Zorina asked.

“Unless Edith would like to chip in I’m pretty sure it means that, without your dead body, we’re not actually sure if you’re dead or not,” Sabrina said.

“Okay, well, how do we find my body?” Madame Zorina asked.

“Same way we always find dead bodies,” Sabrina said with a shrug. “We wait for Bridget to find it.”

“Where was the need for that?” I asked Sabrina.

“Like it wasn’t a fair comment?” Sabrina countered.

I made to check my watch again. And cursed myself again. I grabbed Sabrina’s wrist and checked hers. We had maybe five minutes before our GA meeting started. “Okay. Edith is yours. I’m going to find out if Madame Zorina’s dead or not.”

I didn’t wait for an answer. I tunnelled onto The Bus of Death. It always took me a little longer to get there because it was moving. I landed in the walkway in the centre of the bus. There were several passengers aboard. None of whom noticed me. I was about to walk along the aisle to speak to Charon when the bus lurched to the side as Charon took a corner on two wheels. Once the bus finally bumped back down onto all of its wheels I monkey barred along the aisle to the front.

“You did that on purpose,” I shouted over the roar of the engine.

Charon threw a grin over his shoulder at me. “Why, my little Bridget. I had no idea you were there.”

“You’re such a bad person,” I said as I yanked the clipboard out of its holder and scanned it.

“What are you looking for?” he asked.

“One of my friends was strangled. We’re not sure if she’s dead or not so I wanted to come and check if she was on your list. She’s not, though. So that means she’s not dead, right?”

“Didn’t her dead body give it away?” Charon asked.

“I’m not sure if the killer took it.”

“If the killer took it how would you even know she was dead? Or is this a preemptive query?”

I looked up from the clipboard. “What? I’d see her ghost.”

“Come, now, my little Bridget. You know how this works. You’d only see her ghost and her dead body if she were a livie. If she were a dead ghost you wouldn’t be able to see her ghost’s ghost only her ghost dead body.”

“She’s a livie.”

“You’re friends with a livie?” Charon asked, focusing wholly on me. “You are so fascinating.”

I gestured to the windscreen. “You know it freaks me out when you don’t look at the road.”

He nodded and didn’t look away from me. “I know.”

“Hey, how many people did you pick up from the department store last night?” I asked, turning my back to the windshield. If I couldn’t see all the traffic laws he was breaking somehow it didn’t seem quite as bad.

He shrugged. “Don’t remember.”

“You don’t remember?”

“Nope. I pick up lots of people all over the place. I don’t remember the specifics.”

I narrowed my eyes at him. “You remember fine. You don’t want to tell me.”

“That too. I do remember having some fun with those two GB boys, though.”

“Was it the two of them?” I asked.

“Yes, the two GB boys. You know I didn’t touch your sticky-noted parole officer.”

“No. Was it the two mediums you picked up?”

“The GB boys only brought the whiny one out.”

“That’s not what I asked. Why are you being so cagey about this?”

“Because, my little Bridget, I could give you all the information but where’s the fun in that?”

“The fun will be in me not being murdered.”

“I know you know that death isn’t that big of a deal,” Charon said with a shrug. “Small price to pay for an exciting life.”

“Okay. How about this? Is there ever a time when someone dies at midday on a Tuesday but you wouldn’t pick them up until midday on a Wednesday?”

“There are a whole variety of circumstances that allow for the use of my discretion.”

“I’m going to take that as a yes. But if that’s the case then how come Magnificent Malcolm doesn’t remember having time to do stuff?”

“Dying is complicated.”

“So, what? He hung around his body for a whole night and—”

“Are you staying?” Charon grinned at me and jerked his head at the hairpin bend on the road ahead. I was pretty sure if he took it at our current speed it would roll the bus. I tunnelled to the sound of Charon’s tinkling laughter.

Chapter Ten

“What’s the verdict?” Sabrina asked when I met her back at the fort for our GA meeting. Happily, my shoes were exactly where I’d left them. I picked them up but didn’t put them back on as we walked across the grass.

“Madame Zorina wasn’t on the list, so that’s the best I can offer you.”

“I hope that list is accurate,” Sabrina said. “I know we’ve not been massively active in her whole spiritual detective agency recently, but I do like having the option.”

“I hope that list’s accurate.” That list was what we worked from to collect passengers. We might not yank people out of their bodies but I didn’t want to be taking anyone to Arrivals who was having a quick out-of-their-body-look around or was bound to a different afterlife plane. “But something occurred to me after I tunnelled. Remember when I took Madame Zorina to see Edith’s son? I had to touch her then. To tunnel her.”

“Yeah. After you left Edith explained that mediums could touch ghosts. That they weren’t totally subject to the same rules as regular livies. I was going to call you back but then I realised it still didn’t tell us if she was dead or not. And her nearly being murdered is a little bit inconvenient because I really wanted to question her about Jeremy and the other guy.”

“I asked Charon if he’d picked them both up at the same time but he wouldn’t tell me. Said it would make for a more exciting life to work it out myself.”

“Well, he’s right.”

“Don’t side with him. Did you ask Edith about being there with Tommy?”

“I did but she denied it. She said she had no clue what I was talking about and you must’ve been mistaken.”

“Oh, it was definitely her.”

Sabrina nodded. “I agree. If I hadn’t been sure before I was when she flat out denied it. She didn’t ask any question about why we’d thought it was her. I had to leave to get back here but we definitely need to follow up on that. I was thinking maybe Madame Zorina would know something about that, too.”

I made a doubtful noise. “I think Edith is far too cagey to have accidentally said something that might hint at her role with Tommy.”

“You can’t hide things forever. Stuff slips through. I thought I’d nip back after the meeting and see what Madame Zorina knew. About the other mediums too. Use her to snoop for us for a change. You think she’ll help?”

“Someone tried to kill her. I think she’ll be all about helping,” I said.

“Good. And does that seem weird to you? Like there’s no definitive dead test we could do on her.” Sabrina lowered her voice as we approached the front doors of the fort. “If you didn’t do what you do, we’d have had to wait until her body possibly showed up.”

“Everything about this place is weird to me. I’d have been more surprised if there had been a definitive way to test whether she was dead or not,” I said and paused to put my shoes back on my dirty feet. In life I’d have rather walked on glass than put dirty feet in such beautiful shoes but in life I’d never had a reason to have dirty feet.

“Really?” Sabrina asked, eyeing me as I straightened up.

“So where are we with suspects? Did you manage to snoop at all?” I asked as I led the way into the fort and straight to the tea and biscuit area at the back of the room. I couldn’t help smiling at the clip clop noise my heels made on the stone floor.

“No. These newbies are everywhere.” Sabrina’s voice brimmed with disgust. “Did Charon happen to mention how Magnificent Malcolm died?”

“Charon told me nothing. Why?”

Sabrina filled her coffee cup. “Jeremy’s murderer used whatever was to hand, which suggests it was a murder of opportunity, but someone brought something with them to specifically strangle Madame Zorina.”

“Are you saying there are two murderers?” I asked.

“No, it could still be the same person. It’s interesting that Jeremy was opportunistic but Madame Zorina was purposeful. Kind of implies that she might know something.”

“Uh-huh. Are you making huge leaps with no basis whatsoever so you can work in your conspiracy theory?” I asked, as I picked up my tea and a saucer full of custard creams. I spied two seats at the back of the hall away from the rest of our group.

“Admit that it does make a sort of sense,” Sabrina said as she followed me.

I sighed. I wasn’t going to encourage her and her conspiracy theories but it did sound like a somewhat logical conclusion. “So, what is our current working theory?”

“Jeremy was meeting his source. Why was Magnificent Malcolm there, though?”

“Maybe it was a joint source,” I suggested.

Sabrina shook her head. “Can’t see Jeremy sharing like that, can you? Maybe Magnificent Malcolm was spying on him? That would make a bit more sense. Trying to see how Jeremy got more messages than him. Maybe Magnificent Malcolm and Jeremy got into a fight and Magnificent Malcolm killed Jeremy.”

“And Jeremy landed a mortal wound on Magnificent Malcolm that didn’t kill him straightaway. Which would make sense as to why Jeremy and Magnificent Malcolm weren’t on the same busload of newly transitioned,” I agreed.

“Nope. That doesn’t work for me. They couldn’t have murdered each other because then who attacked Madame Zorina?” Sabrina tapped her digestive biscuit on the rim of her coffee cup and stared into the distance. “I think this is all connected.”

“Okay. What if we’ve got it backward? What if Magnificent Malcolm was meeting Wallace and Jeremy followed him. And then he and Jeremy got into a fight and dealt each other mortal blows. I could see Jeremy doing that more than Magnificent Malcolm stalking Jeremy.”

“Why?”

“I like Magnificent Malcolm and I don’t like Jeremy,” I said simply.

“That’s not a good reason to assume innocence.”

“Okay, whichever way we cut this, Magnificent Malcolm and Jeremy were in the store that night. Can I get some agreement on this?”

Sabrina shook her head. “Except if they were and had died at the same time they’d have been on the same busload of people and they weren’t. Are you sure they weren’t? I know you saw Jeremy because he made a racket but could Magnificent Malcolm been one of the zombified folks?”

“No, he was with a completely different group. So he was picked up at a different time. But Charon said that sometimes people don’t get picked up straightaway.”

“Really? Why?”

I shrugged. “He was about to take a hairpin bend at ninety miles an hour. I didn’t feel like staying to question him.”

“Okay. What about the person who attacked Madame Zorina likely being the same person who killed Jeremy and Magnificent Malcolm? Can I get some agreement on this?”

I made a “not really” type of noise. “You need to link Madame Zorina to them before I’ll buy that.”

Sabrina let out a heavy sigh. “That’s fair, I suppose.”

I gestured to her with my custard cream. “What if an alive person simply killed Jeremy and Magnificent Malcolm for alive people reasons and Madame Zorina is a whole separate other thing?”

“We’re going around in circles.” Sabrina placed her coffee on the chair next to her and counted off the possibilities on her fingers. “Option one: Jeremy and Magnificent Malcolm, both alive, killed each other. In a separate incident, a ghost attacks Madame Zorina for unknown reasons. Option two: Jeremy and Magnificent Malcolm end up at the department store for whatever reason and Wallace, who, by the way I’m not totally convinced is Officer Leonard, kills them. And then Wallace attacks Madame Zorina for unknown reasons. Option two, Part B: As part one, except Madame Zorina’s attack is unrelated. Option three: As option two but swap Wallace out for whoever Jeremy’s source is. With the added options of a related or unrelated attack on Madame Zorina.”

“So, basically, you’re saying we have no clue who the killer is?”

“Basically. But I move to strike whichever option it was where Magnificent Malcolm and Jeremy kill each other. I don’t like this as an option. I think we should completely remove it from our line of investigation.”

“What a shocker,” I mumbled. “Maybe Jeremy and Magnificent Malcolm were murdered separately, in different places by different people. Maybe Magnificent Malcolm really was in a car accident. There’s no reason to believe he was at the department store and we have nothing that puts him there.”

Sabrina shook her head. “I think the most likely scenario is that someone killed Jeremy and Magnificent Malcolm and then either attacked Madame Zorina because she is a medium like them and someone has it in for mediums or for something she might know.”

“Does make the most sense,” I agreed reluctantly.

“And I don’t think it was Wallace or Jeremy’s source. And, I think ‘Wallace’ is a generic code name for GBs when they talk to mediums so they can all be interchangeable.”

I shook my head. “The GBs don’t look that alike and why would all GBs need to talk to mediums anyway? Or maybe each GB has their allotted mediums like facilitators have their allowed areas but they all use the same name.”

“I could get behind that,” Sabrina agreed, dunking her biscuit in her coffee. “I’ll see what I can get from Madame Zorina later.”

“What if it turns out to be an alive person who murdered Jeremy and Magnificent Malcolm?” I asked.

“We leave a note on a detective’s desk about who did it, why and where the evidence is. Fighting crime and righting wrongs from across the veil.”

I gave her a sideways glance. “You’re playing a theme tune for us in your head right now, aren’t you?”

“Do I mock you for your eyeliner?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, so plan of attack from here is to get Madame Zorina to snoop around her contacts and find us some alive suspects for the murder while we work our end and try to shorten that shopping list of people.”

“Sounds like a plan,” I agreed.

“Oh, and you need to snoop around that department store for Magnificent Malcolm’s body.”

“Why? We already know he’s dead and it’s highly unlikely they’ll take us back to the same store where someone was murdered.”

“The body will confirm he died there, though. And the request says you’re going back to the same store. With the exact same people.” Sabrina tapped her cup with her biscuit again.

“I thought you said you weren’t able to snoop through files with the training.”

“Yep, but the stack of requests waiting in the inbox was a completely different matter,” Sabrina said with a shrug. “It’s almost like someone wants you to investigate.”

I nodded. “Yeah. You.”

∞

“Guess what, Bridget? We’re going shopping again.” Petal skipped over to Sabrina and me as we made our way out of the fort after the meeting had finished. Pam and Lucy followed her.

“Your GB friend arranged it,” Pam said, linking her arm with mine as she gently tugged me forward to where Oz was standing, arms folded and stony faced. The vibe that radiated from him was so far past furious I tripped when I caught a glimpse of it. Happily, Pam supported me. “I wish you’d get some more sensible shoes. You’re going to break your neck in those.”

“What’s up with him?” Sabrina muttered.

I gave my head the smallest shake. “No clue, but I bet it’s my fault.”

“I think I’ll bid you ladies goodnight from here,” Sabrina said. She gave me a quick hug, reminded me to search for Magnificent Malcolm’s body, then tunnelled away.

“Everything okay?” I asked Oz as we came to a halt in front of him, Anna and Katie.

“Fine. Same rules as before, ladies.” He signalled we should form a circle and he tunnelled us back to the same department store.

“Come on, Bridget. Let’s go and find you some sensible shoes,” Pam said and tugged my arm so I’d follow her.

“You pick me out something, Pam, and I’ll follow you in a minute,” I said as Anna sauntered away and Katie stalked off in the opposite direction, ready to stand and scowl at everyone again.

“You’re trusting me to pick out shoes for you?” Pam asked and the surprise in her voice told me I’d have to take whatever she picked out or I’d decimate her confidence.

I nodded. “Yep. I think you have a great sense of style.”

“We’ll help,” Petal said and skipped off ahead.

“I’m picking out my own shoes, though,” Lucy said as she trailed after them.

When they were all out of hearing distance I turned back to find Oz scowling over my shoulder after my housemates.

“Do you want to talk about it?” I asked him.

“About what?” he asked.

“About the reason that scowl is so deeply etched onto your face I could wedge a pen in your frown lines. Or the reason I can barely understand what you’re saying because your teeth are clenched so tightly together.”

“No.” The word was curt. No room for movement. He was really mad about something. Because I was a bad person, and because I was pretty sure it wasn’t me he was mad at for once, I couldn’t not bait him about it a little.

“Then you better check your attitude at the door because this”—I swirled my finger to encompass all of Oz’s scowly face, tooth grinding, tense shoulder deal—“this needs to stop right now.”

“Did you seriously just tell me to check my attitude?” Oz’s scowl lightened a teeny bit as it gained a tinge of disbelief.

“Yes. I did. We all have bad days. Don’t bring it to work. It will have a negative effect on those around you. I asked you if you wanted to talk about it and you said you didn’t. That’s fine. But lose the temper tantrum because you wouldn’t accept it from me so I refuse to accept it from you.” I turned and gave him probably the best hair flick of my afterlife. Brand name conditioner made such a difference. And then I sashayed all the way over to the shoe department, leaving a stunned Oz in my wake.

“What size shoe are you?” Pam asked, both hands behind her back as I approached. The fact that she didn’t want to show me the shoes off the bat was warning enough.

Lucy caught my attention over Pam’s shoulder and shook her head, then held up four fingers.

“I’m about a four,” I said and Lucy gave me two thumbs up.

“Oh, no, really?” Pam’s shoulders slumped and I immediately felt terrible. This friend thing was so draining.

“I can sometimes get away with a five, though,” I said quickly.

Pam’s whole demeanour brightened back up and she thrust a pair of white Crocs at me. “Excellent. Try these on.”

I took a rubber shoe from her and examined it, throwing a quick glance at Lucy, who held her hands up and shook her head. Yep, it was my own fault.

“It’s not about fashion, Bridget, it’s about comfy feet. Now try them on before you judge.” Pam pointed to the seat for me to sit down.

“Where’s Petal?” I asked, sitting down and slipping off my shoes.

“Where on earth have you been?” Pam grabbed my ankle and lifted my leg up, nearly tipping me backward so she could examine my filthy feet.

“Oh, there was some running at work today,” I said and batted her hand away. “So, where’s Petal?”

Lucy sat next to me and tried on a pair of five-inch platforms in red patent leather. “She’s off questioning people.”

“And you let her go on her own?” I asked as Pam shoved my size six feet into size five shoes.

“Are you sure you’re a four?” Pam asked.

“Did none of you listen at lunchtime when Sabrina and I both stressed the importance of pairing up while questioning?”

“These are definitely too small for you,” Pam mumbled and sat back on her haunches, examining the inside of the shoe for sizes. “I wonder if they’ve labelled them wrong. That’s not good, is it?”

“Pam? Lucy?” I snapped my fingers in front of their faces to get their attention. “Question people in pairs. Repeat that back.”

“Question people in pairs,” they repeated and turned back to their own activities.

I glanced between them. “Do you guys still want to do this?”

“I didn’t realise there would be so much work involved,” Lucy said, trying on one of my Crocs.

“And it seems a little bit dangerous,” Pam whispered.

“Okay. I’m happy for you both not to be involved. I’m going to find Petal. Do either of you know where she is?”

Both Lucy and Pam pointed to the changing rooms. I slipped my heels back on and clip clopped away to find Petal before I cracked Pam’s and Lucy’s heads together.

Petal was standing behind Olive, who was twirling in front of the large mirror in the same dress as the day before, only this one fitted her.

“That is such a good colour on you, Olive,” Petal said.

“You managed to find the right size then,” I said.

Olive nodded. “Janice managed to find one in the stockroom yesterday and put it on the hold rail in case we got a chance to come back.”

“I thought I made myself clear,” Janice said, stalking toward us from the back of the fitting rooms.

“About what?” I asked. “When you asked for the most unflattering outfit in the shop?”

Petal gasped. “Bridget!”

“That was mean,” Olive said as she moved to stand next to Janice.

“Right, this woman is trying to get me in trouble all the time and I’m the one in the wrong?” I asked.

“If you weren’t doing anything wrong Janice couldn’t get you into trouble, could she?” Olive pointed out.

“Yeah, Olive, I’m not really sure you understand how authority works,” I said.

“I understand how it works,” Treble said from behind me.

I turned to face him. “Should you be in here? This is a ladies fitting room. Inappropriate, don’t you think?”

Treble ignored me. “Parole Officer Peaks, is there a problem here?”

Janice squared her shoulders. “Yes. I’m glad you’re here. I’d like to make a complaint.”

“Against?” Treble asked but I was pretty sure he already knew the answer.

“Bridget Sway.” Janice enunciated my name clearly to ensure there could be no mistake. “I have asked her on numerous occasions to not communicate with my wards—”

“Okay, you’ve asked me once. One time,” I said.

“That should be enough,” Janice said.

“Now, now, ladies.” Richards interjected. “Parole Officer Peaks. How many times have you requested Ms Sway refrain from contacting your ward? Once, like Ms Sway says, or numerous occasions, as you just said?”

“Once or more than that, it doesn’t matter.” Treble spoke out of the corner of his mouth to Richards.

“Truthfulness speaks to the legitimacy of the complaint,” Richards replied quietly before turning back to Janice. “So, how many times?”

Janice pinned me with a glare. “Numerous.”

“Oh, she’s lying. I’m going to get Oz. He has that truthfulness radar thing. He can tell you that I’m telling the truth.” I grabbed Petal and turned to leave the fitting rooms.

“Are you just going to let her leave?” Janice asked.

Treble darted in front of me. “No.”

“Now, now. Everyone just calm down. How about we draw a line under this and promise to get along in future?” Richards asked.

“I think that’s a good idea,” Petal agreed in a small voice. “I think there’s a snag in the hem on that dress, Olive. Bridget and I will go and find another one from the stockroom for you. If that’s okay with you, Officer?” Petal directed her question to Richards, who nodded and made a sweeping motion for us to leave.

“Wait just a minute,” Treble said and stepped in my path, but Richards placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Think about the paperwork,” he muttered and then nodded at me to continue on my way.

“That was really rude, Bridget,” Petal reprimanded me as we headed to the stockroom. “And I was getting some good info from Olive, too.”

“First, that woman is trying to get me in trouble simply because she doesn’t like me. Second, do you remember the part where you do not question people alone because it’s dangerous?” I asked.

“We’re in a public place and I still have my stun gun.” Petal patted her the back pocket of her capris trousers.

“I don’t care. You follow the rules or you’re not allowed to help,” I told her as I pushed the door to the stockroom open. We were greeted by an enormous room jam-packed with more stock than I could’ve dreamed of.

“Because you always follow the rules,” Petal muttered.

I pulled her to a stop. “Hey, less of the attitude. The rules are there for your safety, so quit whining, follow them and be glad that I’m not admitting everything to the O word to keep you safe.”

Petal gave me her sunshine smile and a one-shoulder shrug. “Okay. But there are only three of us, so I’m going to need a partner.”

“Pam and Lucy have bowed out so it’s just you and me.”

“No one will speak to me if you’re there. I was thinking of asking Anna.”

“No.” I made a slashing motion with my hand. Repeatedly. “Absolutely not.”

“But it would help her to feel involved.” Petal looked up at me with her huge watery blue eyes.

“Why not go the whole hog and ask Katie?” I suggested.

Petal nodded. “I did but she still won’t speak. You can’t question people with someone who doesn’t speak.”

“Petal …” I covered my eyes with one hand as if I could block out the whole situation. I was really beginning to get a feel for what it felt like to be a parent. Suddenly, I had a lot more empathy and guilt over all the times I screamed at my mum. Parenting was hard. Oz and I would have to get on the same page about this. General parenting, not the specific stuff. It was best he didn’t know about the specific stuff.

“I thought maybe Anna could help. I don’t know how to ask people if they have a brother. Or if they killed someone. Or if they saw someone else kill someone. I started with the brother question to ease into it with Olive, but we got caught up in family talk and then she was telling me all about how her family keeps visiting mediums to check if she’s okay but that the social relations department never lets her visit. And how Janice—”

The door swung open behind us with such force it slapped into the wall with a bang. The girl with the turquoise striped hair from the previous night bounded in laughing. She paused when she saw us and the tattooed girl walked right into the back of her.

Petal waved at her even though she was standing less than two feet away. “Hi, Tina.”

“Hey, Petal. What are you guys doing in here?” Tina asked.

“We’re looking for a dress. What are you doing?” Petal asked.

Tina held up a cigarette. “Looking for a peaceful place for a smoke.”

“Because a stockroom full of flammable clothes is an ideal place,” I said.

Tina pointed to the ceiling. “No fire alarms.”

“What?” I twisted around as I scanned the ceiling. She was right. There were no smoke alarms. What kind of store didn’t have smoke alarms in their stockroom? “There’s a stairway at the back of the shoe department. Maybe that would be a more private place.”

Tina shook her head. “Smoke alarms.”

“Where? On the back stairs but not in the stockroom?” I asked and Tina nodded. “How did you know that?”

“Saw them last night when we were checking for somewhere to smoke.”

“Smoking is a terrible habit,” Petal said in a small voice.

Tina grinned at her. “Not like it’s going to kill me.”

“Don’t suppose you saw anyone on the stairs?” I asked.

Tina’s whole body stiffened. “No.”

I sighed. “That’s a shame. I was hoping someone might have seen something. I think the GBs are going to try to pin that guy’s murder on me. I was hoping to give them another suspect.”

“Can’t help you. Sorry,” Tattoo Girl said. It was the first time she’d spoken. She backed out of the room and pulled Tina with her.

“If they were on the back stairs last night and they didn’t see the killer, does that mean the killer found a different way out?” Petal asked after the door closed behind them.

I shrugged. “Or they killed him.”

Petal gasped. “No. They wouldn’t.”

“Maybe it was self-defence. Or maybe they were Jeremy’s contacts because—wait, what were you saying?”

“That you should be nicer to people, and definitely not accuse them of murder with absolutely no evidence.”

“No. About Olive.”

“Oh. That we’d find her a dress without a pull in the hem.” Petal moved further into the stockroom and began scanning the rails.

“No, you were saying something about her and mediums?” I prompted. This was hard work.

“She was talking about how untrustworthy mediums were. How they’d conned her family, pretending to send messages from her when the social relations team wouldn’t let the summonings connect. It was really sad. She told me her brother got into a fight with one of them over it and—oh!” Petal whirled around to stare at me. “Olive’s brother! I found out Olive has a brother.” Petal clapped, impressed by her own investigative skills. Although she’d missed the point where she’d explained Olive’s motive for killing Jeremy. Or possibly a motive for Olive’s family to have killed Jeremy.

“Good work, Petal. Who did her brother argue with?” Could it be that easy? Would he have argued with Jeremy or Magnificent Malcolm? Had Petal narrowed down our suspect list to Olive and her brother?

“Zendar the Mighty.”

“Zendar the Mighty?” I repeated.

Petal nodded. “I think it might be a stage name.”

“Yeah, me too,” I agreed, managing to suffocate my automatic sarcastic response. “I think you got all the information Olive has. Maybe you should move on to someone else.”

“Do you think so?” Petal asked.

“Absolutely.” Since Olive was now one of our prime suspects I wanted Petal far away from her.

“Okay. But I still need to find her a dress. Can you believe this is how clothing comes in?” Petal asked as she moved around a group of enormous blue sacks stuffed full of clothing. They were in groups in several places around the room. Maybe by what they were full of. Sacks full of dresses underneath the dresses hanging on the rails.

“Yeah, that’s awful …” I said and then scanned around. There were at least forty bags. And suddenly Sabrina’s comment about me missing a dead body came back to me. Would Magnificent Malcolm’s body fit inside one? And, more importantly, did I want to check? I already knew the answer to that. No, I didn’t want to check. I didn’t want to keep being the girl who found dead bodies.

But I’d known Magnificent Malcolm, even if it was only a little. Could I really let his body sit in one of these bags? Decaying. But then he was already dead. This was his alive dead body that I couldn’t do anything about anyway. Except this was a crime scene upstairs, right? Would the police have checked down here? What if the store was closed for days? What if these workers were lazy? Maybe he wouldn’t get found for another week or so. And then his family would have a bloated, gross, stinky corpse to bury.

“Shoot,” I said on a sigh. Yet one more reason against getting emotionally involved with people.

“Are you alright?” Petal asked.

I nodded. “I’m going to check the sacks.”

“For the dress?” Petal asked.

“No. For a dead body.”

“Okay, I’ll carry on looking for the dress,” Petal said, completely unperturbed.

I checked all the bags and found nothing but badly creased clothing. I was feeling proud of myself for my proactive action and a little giddy that I still hadn’t found a body.

“Finally!” Petal held the dress aloft. “There’s a pretty black version of it down here that you might like.”

I moved to the head of her aisle and my happy evaporated. Right at the back, against the wall, were several sacks I’d missed somehow.

“Will you pop that into a changing room for me and I’ll be right out?”

Petal frowned around us. “What are you going to do in here?”

“Missed these sacks.”

“I’ll help.” Petal hung the dresses on the rail and reached for one of the sacks.

I grabbed her hand before she could open it. I knew Magnificent Malcolm’s body would be in one of these sacks. I’d been playing Russian Roulette all night and I didn’t want Petal to find it. No, I’d have loved Petal to find it because that meant I wouldn’t have found the dead body for once, but somehow I knew the body was there. And I couldn’t let Petal find it. I couldn’t. It would haunt her.

I shook my head. “There’s only a few sacks.”

“Exactly, and it will be quicker with the two of us.”

“Y’know, Petal, I think you were right. We should try and include Anna,” I said.

Excitement rippled over Petal’s face. “Really?”

“Yep.”

Petal threw her arms around my neck, then grabbed the dresses and skipped to the end of the aisle. “I’ll fill her in.”

I waited until Petal was out of the room and began checking the sacks. I got to the third one and the way it bulged I just knew it wasn’t filled with clothes.

“Okay, Magnificent Malcolm, I hope you and your family appreciate this.” I peered into the bag and pulled the top layer of clothes off. A jumper got stuck on something inside the sack so I yanked and the bag toppled over to reveal Magnificent Malcolm’s startled but dead face. With a thick purple bruise around his neck. Strangled. Like Madame Zorina.

“Man, do you owe me for this,” I told his dead body and stepped around him to go and call an about to be even more grumpy Oz. And then my heel caught in a loose string from one of the bags. I stumbled forward, trying to save myself, but instead dove headfirst into a group of bags on the other side of the aisle. They parted beneath me, then tumbled down on top of me like skittles. One fell on my head before rolling away and the other across my lower back, where it settled. I twisted and tried to push the second one off, only to find that a heap of clothes wasn’t what was pinning me to the floor. It was another dead body.

“Why does this always happen to me?”

“I think it’s because you’re a bad person, hon,” Anna said from the head of the aisle.

“Thanks for your input, Anna,” I said as I tried to push the body off me without actually touching it. “Do you think you could get Oz for me?”

Anna moved to the doorway and yelled, “Oz? Bridget’s killed someone else.”

Chapter Eleven

“Is it me? Am I missing something? Is there some sort of magnetic pull, or something, that draws you to dead bodies?” Oz asked. We were sitting on a window ledge at the back of evacuation point A. I’d folded up a piece of cardboard so my white jumpsuit didn’t get dirty but I’d sat down next to him when he asked.

“You don’t get it? Imagine how I feel,” I said as I watched my housemates move around the space, each trying out their new questioning techniques, invigorated by the discovery of the two new bodies.

Oz nudged my knee with his to pull my attention back to him. “Anna said you said you were looking for a body.”

“Anna was eavesdropping?” How had not I noticed her in the stockroom?

“That’s really not the point here,” Oz said.

“Maybe not to you. Did you ask her to keep an eye on me?”

Oz sighed. “Bridget, you’re in trouble every day. I can’t be there all the time to watch you.”

“So you thought having Anna, who is not my adjustment companion anymore but now a lowly parolee like me, spy on me would be a good idea? You thought that would help her adjust to her new living arrangement?”

“At least I can trust her to tell me the truth.”

I reared back and nearly slid off my piece of cardboard. “Whoa. Uncalled for. You say I never tell you the truth but when do you ask me? Not until something happens and then you ask me with attitude. You never say ‘Hey Bridget, what happened?’ It’s—”

“And if I had asked what happened you’d have said you found him,” Oz interrupted before I could find my rhythm.

“I did find him!” I hissed, trying hard not to screech. We already had the covert attention of pretty much all the GBs and the not-so-covert attention of everyone else.

“Anna said you were looking for him,” Oz growled at me in his version of a whisper.

I folded my arms and stared directly in his face. “Is that a question or a statement?”

Oz inhaled a long breath and blew it out slowly. “Were you looking for a body?”

“No. Yes. Not exactly,” I said and all were technically true.

“This is why I don’t ask you.”

“No. I didn’t intend to look for a body. But, yes, when I saw the sacks I did suspect Magnificent Malcolm might be hidden inside one. And I wasn’t looking for his body, not exactly, more like I was trying to check it wasn’t there. So, no, yes, and not exactly are all honest answers. And I knew nothing about Allseeing Eric. I was not no/yes/not exactly expecting that at all.”

“And this is why I don’t ask you because you can twist an answer to fit my question.”

I pointed a finger in his face. “That’s unfair. You asked me. I’ve told you.”

Oz wrapped his hand around my finger and pulled it down out of his face. “Why were you not exactly looking for his body?”

“I used to deliver messages to Magnificent Malcolm when I was a facilitator and I saw him today in Arrivals. He was always nice to me, so I wanted to make sure the alive police would find his body before it got all rotted and disgusting. For his family. I wasn’t, however, expecting to find Allseeing Eric at all, which was who I was referring to in my previous comment about unexpectedly finding dead people.”

“Why did you think his body would be here?” Oz asked.

“Because when Charon was here last night he said ‘people’ were going to die, not ‘a person’. Then I saw Magnificent Malcolm at Arrivals and assumed he was here too because it was too much of a coincidence.” And that was all true. It wasn’t all of the truth but it was all still true.

“Do you have a suspect for who killed them?” Oz asked.

“No.” I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye. Not a lie. I didn’t have a solid suspect. I suspected a lot of people. Like all GBs and anyone with a brother. Mainly Olive. And Tina because I thought she was suspicious. And Treble for no reason other than I didn’t like him.

“Do you have a motive for his murder?”

“No.”

“Nothing at all?”

“Are you trying to trip me up?” I twisted to face him. He didn’t meet my eyes. “Do you have a suspect in this?”

“No, I’m merely trying to establish what you’re doing. If you’re investigating. What you know.”

“Why don’t you ask those questions then? You say I twist information to fit your questions. How about you ask me a straightforward question.”

Oz didn’t miss a beat. “Are you investigating this?”

Officer Leonard appeared in front us before I could answer. “Officer Salier. You’re not keeping Ms Sway all to yourself, are you? There are plenty of people here who would love to talk to her.”

“And yet she’s my ward, Officer Leonard, so I can keep her all to myself,” Oz answered with a smile that wasn’t really all that smiley.

“Really? I’d have thought you’d have been much more focused on your recently returned ward than Ms Sway,” Officer Leonard said as he glanced over his shoulder.

I peered around him to see Katie actively conversing with a small group of people. “Is she talking to those people?”

Officer Leonard nodded. “She certainly is.”

“I can see all my wards just fine, I’m grateful for your concern, Officer Leonard,” Oz said in a tone that said he was not grateful for his concern at all.

“Is there any reason why you would be monopolising Ms Sway?” Officer Leonard asked.

“She found two dead bodies. She’s upset.”

“That’s unfortunate, as you’re needed.” Officer Leonard gestured behind him.

“By who? For what?” Oz asked.

“Your ward, once again, found multiple dead bodies. Questions are being asked. And they need to be asked of you.” Officer Leonard gestured again for Oz to follow him.

Oz spared me a glance that brimmed with all sorts of “behave” commands and then disappeared into the mannequin jungle with Officer Leonard. It had never occurred to me that Oz would get in trouble for me finding dead bodies. And then I realised Officer Leonard had purposely removed me from Oz’s company so I could snoop.

I wandered over to Pam, who was talking to a small group of ladies all around Pam’s age.

“No, I think you must be cooking it too long, Doris. I’m pretty sure it shouldn’t sink like that when you take it out.” A lady in navy trousers and a tucked in crisp white blouse was shaking her head, her wispy, over-tonged, over-hairsprayed hair barely moving.

“I’m definitely following the recipe,” said the lady I assumed was Doris. She was short, pale and dumpy.

“Are you using butter or marg because—” Pam cut herself off when she saw me. She had the good manners to look embarrassed that she was talking about baking instead of questioning people. “Oh, everyone, this is Bridget, one of my housemates.”

Pam introduced me around the circle but their names had disappeared from my brain before Pam had finished the introductions. I wasn’t sure if that was a dead thing or I’d always been that way. Funny how I didn’t notice until I was dead, though. Also funny how it hadn’t seemed important until I was dead. Although, when I’d been alive I’d not found a dead body every other day, so it wasn’t like I’d had to keep track of people for suspect reasons.

“Oh, you’re the girl who keeps finding dead bodies,” the navy trouser lady said.

I nodded. “Yep, that’s me.”

“That must be so awful for you,” Doris said.

“It’s not the best, and actually”—I glanced over my shoulder and lowered my voice—“I was hoping you ladies might be able to help me with something. I had a watch. It was a gift from my brother for my last birthday before I died.”

“I didn’t know you had a brother,” Pam said. It took me a second to realise that she wasn’t playing along—she seriously thought I had a brother. All my housemates needed a proper schooling in deception.

“I don’t really like to talk about it. Do any of you ladies have brothers?” I asked and all four of the ladies shook their heads. “None of you?”

Doris glanced around the group and spoke for everyone. “No.”

“Oh.” I hadn’t expected any of these ladies to have a brother who was at university but you were never too old to try something new so I’d figured it was a base worth covering. Although just because they’d denied it didn’t mean they were telling the truth. And it didn’t mean they weren’t murderers. “Well, I was in the stockroom yesterday looking for a top and I figured I’d try it on while I was in there. Anyway, I took my watch off and hung it on one of the rails. I forgot about it and then that whole dead body thing happened. I went back in there tonight to look for it and that was when I found the bodies. I don’t suppose any of you saw anyone heading in there either yesterday or today, did you?”

“Oh, Bridget, I didn’t realise.” Pam covered her mouth with her hand and for a moment I thought she’d twigged and was playing along but something about the pity on her face told me she’d bought the story too. “Do you think someone might have stolen it?”

“I’m not accusing anyone. I just want it back. I saw someone dart out to the back stairs last night, maybe to hide it, but I didn’t get a good look at them.” I brushed a fake tear from my eye. Pam caught me in a sideways hug. “It meant so much to me.”

“I saw one of the GBs go in the stockroom last night,” said Doris, not questioning why the thief would be hiding a watch on the back stairs. “I didn’t think much of it at the time because they go everywhere, but it was strange he went into the stockroom.”

“Do you know which GB it was?” I asked.

“Treble,” Doris said. “I remember because I heard him give you that warning for putting that horrible Janice woman in her place. And then he hovered around for a bit, then went into the stockroom. I’m not accusing him of anything, mind.”

Hadn’t Treble come from the back of the department store when I’d been chasing Jeremy down? But if he’d killed him wouldn’t he have been worried that Jeremy had seen him. Maybe that it would trigger a memory? Or maybe Treble just stabbed him from behind.

“I saw your murderous housemate go in. I was heading that way to get a top that hadn’t been tried on by everyone but when I saw her go in I changed my mind,” said Navy Trousers.

“Were they in there at the same time?” I asked. Katie had been having an affair with someone during her first few months in the afterlife. Maybe she was the kind of girl who always needed a boyfriend. Or co-conspirator.

“Your housemate went in there not long after we got there so I don’t think so,” Navy Trousers said and then added quickly, “But she could’ve gone back in later.”

“I saw Janice and the girl who always wears olive go in there. And that other parole officer.” A lady in pink shorts nodded her head in the direction of Oz.

“You saw Oz go in there?” I asked. I was pretty certain Oz hadn’t moved from his cash desk perch all night.

Pink Shorts shook her head. “No, the one next to him. Tarik. And he was in there for a while too.”

“So was that pretty redhead,” another lady said and nodded to a girl in her early twenties who I was pretty sure was making goo-goo eyes at Tarik. “I want to say her name’s Samantha but I’m not sure. I don’t think they would’ve noticed your watch, though. If you know what I mean?”

“Oh, really?” I said, throwing a covert glance over my shoulder at them.

“I’m not implying anything,” Pink Shorts said in a tone that was definitely implying something.

I nodded at her. “Of course not. And none of you saw anyone heading for the backstairs, looking a bit shifty?”

“No. Sorry,” said Navy Trousers and all the rest shook their heads.

“You ladies have been really helpful, thank you so much,” I said and made sure my gratitude came through in my voice. “If no one else has any more names to add, I think I’ll go and see if Lucy’s friends saw anything.”

“I really hope you find your watch,” Doris said, leaning forward to grab my wrist. “Stealing is so despicable.”

“Thanks, Doris,” I said and gave them all a polite nod. I was about to head over to Lucy but then I saw Petal talking to Tina and the Tattoo girl.

“You’re right, Clare, death is so hard on everyone,” Petal agreed. Clearly, no one had paid any attention to Sabrina’s “how to effectively question a suspect” workshop.

“It must be hard on you too,” Tina said to me as I approached.

“It’s getting easier,” I replied and it was the truth. “When I first died it was hard. But now, since I know death isn’t the end, finding dead bodies all over the place doesn’t upset me so much anymore.”

“I suppose that’s a positive way to look at it,” Clare, formally known as Tattoo Girl, said.

“I’m more concerned with whoever is killing them.” I glanced over my shoulder and lowered my voice. “I mean, yeah, it’s not great they’re dead but it’s less great that there’s someone running around killing people.”

“But they were livies, right? So a livie killed them.” Tina glanced from me to Petal.

I shrugged. “Maybe, but there’s no reason why one of us couldn’t have killed them. And they were all mediums, so it’s kind of weird that they all just happened to be here when we’re on a prearranged shopping trip, don’t you think?”

Tina narrowed her eyes at me. “How do you know they were all mediums?”

“I used to be a facilitator. They were all from my area.”

“Makes you a good suspect,” Clare pointed out.

“Bridget is not a suspect!” Petal snapped. We all stared at her. I’d never heard her snap at anyone. Ever. “Bridget is a good person. She’s not capable of these awful things. The only reason she is always in the middle of murdery things is because she’s trying to help people. So what do you two know that would help her?”

“I’m sorry, Petal, I wasn’t thinking,” Tina said.

“Me either,” Clare added and I noticed that neither apologised to me. Which was fine. As long as they were nice to Petal and gave me information. Clare nodded over my shoulder. “I saw that GB, the one who gave you that warning, wandering around the whole time we were trying stuff on.”

Did everyone know that he’d given me a warning?

“Me too,” Tina added. “I thought it was kind of inappropriate because he was near the changing rooms. Oz, being a gentleman, kept his distance. Even that Tarik who is always checking out anything that moves didn’t hover.”

“You think the GB killed them?” I asked, purposely not addressing her comment about Oz.

Clare shrugged. “Maybe they need more mediums so they can keep closer tabs on us. I heard a couple of the GBs talking about that earlier. They stopped when they realised I could hear them.”

“Do you remember which ones? Can you point them out?” I asked.

Clare shook her head. “They all look the same to me but their names were Fredrickson and Neals. I remembered because one of my neighbours growing up was called Neal Fredricks.”

“Weird world. How do you know their names?” I asked.

“That stupid GB who grins and fakes shoots at everyone called them by name,” Clare said.

“And the only reason I remembered that one who gave you the warning was because I’d clocked him in case anyone was assaulted in the fitting rooms,” Tina said.

“Is that something that happens?” I asked.

Tina shrugged. “There’s always a first time.”

“How exactly do the GBs use mediums to keep track of us?” I asked, trying to get back on track. I was getting a heavy anarchist vibe all of a sudden.

Tina glanced at Clare, who nodded. Tina lowered her voice. “They mark you at Arrivals. All those forms you fill out when you get here mean nothing. They’ve already decided how to best use you to their own ends.”

“Who? The GBs?” I asked and both girls nodded solemnly. I was pretty sure the mass of forms you filled out in Afterlife Arrivals went into your file. The one that Sabrina always searched for information. And I’d not seen anyone get marked while I’d been at Arrivals. I’d still check with Sean, though. “How do they mark you?”

“I don’t know how they do it. All I know is that they do.” Tina checked around us. “Don’t let on you know. Or they’ll come for you. People disappear all the time.”

“Cheap labour,” Clare agreed.

“Labour for what?” I asked, thinking the anarchist vibe had been camouflage for the super crazy vibe that was rippling off them in waves.

Tina’s eyes stretched wide. “Who knows? That’s why I always keep this on me.” Tina opened her jacket a little way. I think she only intended to show me what looked like a powder pink shower cap with small white polka dots but I also saw the handle of what I was pretty sure was a switchblade. Sabrina had one so I was a little familiar with them, though hers had a unicorn handle.

“It’s foil lined so they can’t read our thoughts. You both need to get one.” Clare mimed putting on a hat and I nodded so not to antagonise the crazy people.

I pulled Petal a little closer. “Uh-huh, yeah, we will. So, do you suspect anyone other than the GBs?”

Clare and Tina burst out laughing in sync. It was high-pitched and super false. Like a hyena. A pair of crazy hyenas. With switchblades.

“Oh, you guys,” Tina said and waved at us.

I was an inch away from bolting across the room, dragging Petal with me and hiding behind Oz. I didn’t care that was a girly thing to do. It wasn’t like I was the type of gal who backed down from a fight but everyone knew you didn’t fight with crazy people. They were crazy. And then I felt someone move up behind me.

“Ms Sway, how’s the clothes shopping going?” Officer Leonard asked.

Clare and Tina stared at me. Obviously, in their minds I was now a GB sympathiser.

“Well, the dead bodies keep getting in the way of it, to be honest,” I said and adjusted my fringe. The intensity with which Petal’s friends were watching me was unnerving.

“Do you still not have anything to wear?” he asked with raised eyebrows.

“Not really. I do have some eyeliner, though, which nobody is noticing,” I said, pointing to my face.

Officer Leonard inclined his head. “I did notice, however, I didn’t feel it was appropriate to comment. If you’re still short of clothes, I can supervise you while you pick some things out, if that would be any help.”

Someone choked. I wasn’t sure if it was Clare or Tina.

“As much as I would appreciate that, I’m pretty sure my parole officer wouldn’t approve,” I said and checked over Officer Leonard’s shoulder to search out Oz. He was being questioned by another GB with his back to me. I wondered if the GB had purposely turned Oz around. Officer Leonard had timed that perfectly.

“He’s busy for the moment. Let me do you this favour as a thank you for the assistance you’ve previously given the GBs,” Officer Leonard said and Petal’s friends made some more spluttering noises. I had the impression Officer Leonard knew of their suspicions and was playing with them. And me.

Before I could refuse Officer Leonard placed a hand on my shoulder and tunnelled me. Happily, I’d had the presence of mind to grab Petal before I disappeared and pulled her along with me.

“I wasn’t expecting you to bring a friend,” Officer Leonard said as we appeared near the fitting rooms of the ladies’ floor in the same department store.

“Well, I couldn’t flipping well leave her with those two crazy people after you implied I was somehow affiliated with you, could I?” I snapped at him.

“By crazy do you mean poorly adjusted?” he asked.

“No, I mean tin-foil-shower-cap-wearing-switchblade-in-their-pocket crazy. And now they think Petal and I are in league with you.”

The smile dropped from his face. “They were carrying weapons?”

“Yes.” I slapped the back of my hand on his chest to stress the answer. Officer Leonard looked down at where my hand had hit him. I gestured to the same area. “Sorry.”

Officer Leonard nodded. “How are you coping, Ms Sway?”

My eyes darted around the floor, looking for something to explain his sudden change of topic. I reached out and pulled Petal a little closer to me. “Umm, fine?”

Officer Leonard glanced around the empty floor. “Dying can be scary. For those who die and those left behind. I sometimes wish we could provide a service where we could send some sort of comfort to the families.”

“Oh, Officer Leonard. That would be such a lovely thing to do,” Petal gushed while I looked at him out of the corner of my eye. He was getting at something.

“I think the first medium had a nephew who used to help him with his shows. It will be hard for him, I think. If only there were a way to reassure him his uncle was okay.”

“His uncle took a broken coat hanger to the neck and died. I don’t think ‘okay’ is what Jeremy is,” I said. “And in any case, his nephew isn’t talented that way.”

Officer Leonard raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Oh, isn’t he? Then I wonder why his mum asked Jeremy to take him when he did his shows.”

I stared at Officer Leonard for a long moment. So that meant the nephew was a medium. And how did Officer Leonard know the nephew was a medium? And if he was a medium, maybe he knew who Jeremy had been meeting. Maybe he knew who the killer was. And if he knew who the killer was, didn’t that put him in danger? Great. So that was someone else I now felt responsible for. I was going to have to start keeping a list. But if he knew who might have it in for Jeremy then I could tell Oz, or maybe not Oz, but someone, and then this whole mess would be over.

“I never met him. I can’t turn up and ask him questions,” I said.

“Isn’t that what you normally do?” Officer Leonard asked.

“Yes, and did you miss the parts where I was shot and you admitted me to a mental institution for my trouble?”

Officer Leonard sighed. “You’re not going to let that go anytime soon, are you?”

“I ran around the building in my underwear. And practically solved the murder all by myself, yet you didn’t even bring me ice cream. So, no. I am not letting it go.”

“I don’t mean to take sides, Officer Leonard, but it’s important to be appropriately grateful when people help you,” Petal said quietly.

“She means they supported me and they didn’t get ice cream either,” I explained.

“That wasn’t exactly what I meant,” Petal said.

Officer Leonard checked his watch. “I’m going to check on those two ladies.”

“How? Are you going to go up and ask them if they’re carrying weapons? Blatantly?” Because they totally wouldn’t automatically assume we, or I, had set Officer Leonard on them.

“No.” Officer Leonard drew the word out. “We do random searches all the time.”

“They’re not going to see it as random,” I said.

“Would you prefer them to be walking around with knives?” he asked and checked his watch again. “I’ll be back in roughly five minutes.” And then he disappeared.

I offered Petal my hand. “Come on.”

“Where are we going? I thought we were going to shop?” she asked.

I shook my head. “No, we’re going to do Officer Leonard’s dirty work for him.”

Chapter Twelve

“No!” Sabrina yelled as we appeared in Madame Zorina’s office.

I was barely solid when a chair came whizzing toward me. I wasn’t sure exactly how I did it, or if I could’ve done it again, but I reversed in completing the tunnelling process so neither Petal or I were totally solid. Once the chair passed through my abdomen I finished tunnelling.

“What is wrong with you?” I wasn’t sure if I was angry that we’d nearly been taken out by a flying chair or thrilled I’d done a fancy tunnelling thing. No, I did know. I was angry at Madame Zorina and thrilled I’d done a fancy tunnelling thing.

“I didn’t know who you were. Maybe you were the shadow coming back to kill me.” Madame Zorina screeched, her hands fisted in her hair while her eyes darted around the room like a caged, wild animal looking for an escape.

“Sorry.” Sabrina gave a small shake of her head, lack of patience all over her face.

“Where’s Edith?” I asked.

“She had to go before I could get anything good out of her.” Sabrina took a very long sip from her mug.

“Did you hear that?” Madame Zorina cocked her head and spun in a circle, her attention jumping around the room.

“What’s wrong with her?” Petal whispered, inching slightly behind me.

“Someone tried to kill her and now she’s overreacting about it,” I mumbled.

“Overreacting?” cried Madame Zorina, in the definition of overreacting.

“Yes. Over. Reacting.” I stressed.

“Look on the bright side. At least you’re not dead. That’s something to be happy about,” Petal offered with her usual positivity.

“You’ve done it now,” Sabrina mumbled and headed over to the coffee pot. She turned her back on us as she refilled her mug.

“Something to be happy about? Be happy about?” Madame Zorina's voice was like nails scratching down a chalk board. How the neighbours were not complaining was beyond me. “If I’m alive then that means someone could kill me.”

I held a hand up. “Wait. So you’re mad because you’re alive instead of dead? You are so difficult to please.”

“If I’m murdered I’ll go crazy in the afterlife.” Madame Zorina circled her forefinger by her temple, crossed her eyes and stuck her tongue out. “Remember?”

“I’m sure that rule doesn’t apply if you’re a livie murdered by a ghost,” Sabrina said.

“Okay. Go and stand against the wall.” I pointed to a section of exposed brick between the sash windows.

“Ghosts can walk through walls.” Madame Zorina’s voice was heaped with scorn.

“Yes. But they can’t fly. We’re three stories up and that is a sheer wall,” I said, impressed with the lack of attitude in my voice.

Madame Zorina hesitated and then crossed the room. She peered out of the window, then rested her back against the brick and slid down to the floor.

“What are you guys doing here?” Sabrina asked, now that Madame Zorina seemed temporarily appeased.

“Bridget’s in league with the GBs and she told on my friends,” Petal said, pouting at me as she dropped into a visitor’s chair.

Sabrina leaned forward as if she’d misheard. “Bridget is what, now?”

“Petal, I know you’re upset with me but you know I’m not in league with the GBs and I’m not going to apologise for telling Officer Leonard about your friends because they had weapons,” I said.

Sabrina paused in sipping her coffee. “Petal has armed friends?”

“Sabrina’s armed,” Petal murmured.

“Sabrina’s sane,” I countered.

“You still didn’t need to tell on them. They won’t like me now. And I think you’re only saying that because of how they looked.” Petal tossed her head in a way that reminded me of Lucy.

“No, Petal, I’m saying that because they each had a tin foil lined shower cap and a switchblade.”

“Someone had a tin foil lined shower cap and a switchblade?” Sabrina asked, with extreme interest.

“Well, they were quite clearly murdered in life,” Madame Zorina exclaimed. “Just like I’m about to be. Is this what my future holds? Tin foil lined shower caps and switchblades?”

“Madame Zorina. I’m glad you’re not dead. I’m sorry if you feel we’re not paying enough attention to that. We are. We’re trying to find the killer so we can save you. Again.” Yep, I was getting that dig in. “We don’t want you to die, even if that would mean that you could no longer summon me on a whim. On that topic, Petal can you stay here for a minute? Sabrina and I need to nip out.”

“For investigation stuff? Can’t I come with you?” Petal asked.

“Division of labour. Madame Zorina needs a friend at the moment. We both know you’re better at that stuff than me.”

Petal gave me an encouraging smile. “You’re getting better, though.”

“I’m trying and we’ll only be a few minutes.” I beckoned Sabrina over to me and I tunnelled us to the theatre where I’d first met Jeremy. I had no idea if that was where Jeremy’s nephew would be but I didn’t know of anywhere else to check.

“So, why are we here?” Sabrina glanced along the corridor that was lined with battered posters of acts that had appeared at the venue. “And who are Petal’s friends with tin foil shower caps? And where’s everybody else?”

Before I could answer Charon rounded the corner ahead of us, dragging a kicking and screaming man behind him by the back of his collar.

“Bridget!” Completely unmoved by the man’s distress, Charon spread his free arm as wide as the narrow corridor would allow. “What are you doing here?”

I nodded at the still screaming man. “Who’s that?”

Charon shrugged. “You know I don’t pay attention to that. I simply grab whoever’s floating around. On that topic, I was thinking of petitioning to have you work full time. You make my life so much easier and you’re always in trouble. It brightens my day.”

“Oh my god, the collector of the dead doesn’t check his list,” Sabrina mumbled.

“You really don’t know his name?” I asked, pointing to the guy who was still trying to wriggle out of Charon’s hold. I was not touching the full-time conductor comment or Sabrina’s comment.

“My little Bridget wants to know your name.” Charon heaved the guy up by his collar and shook him like a rag doll. The man screamed. Charon frowned at the man and shook him again.

“George! George! George!” the man screamed.

Charon turned back to me with a grin, happy at the man’s cooperation, and lowered George back to the floor. “And what mischief are we making this evening?”

“We dropped by to talk to someone,” I said. Charon raised his eyebrows as if questioning if it was the man he was holding. I shook my head. “No, you can take him.”

“Wait, where did you find him? Can we question him first?” Sabrina asked. “See if he remembers who killed him? Or what’s going on. He’s obviously connected to all this.”

Charon arched an eyebrow at me and then turned to Sabrina. “No, Bridget’s friend. When they are in this state they’re not entirely conversant. These are my least favourite.”

“Well, if you weren’t treating him like a rag doll …” Sabrina said.

“Okay, Bridget’s friend. You may question him. If I let him go, he becomes your responsibility until you bring him outside to my bus.”

“No!” I yelled and reached forward as if to stop Charon from disappearing but he was already gone. George crumpled all the way to the floor like a puppet whose strings had been cut.

I’d once made the mistake of chastising the way Charon dealt with his passengers and he’d done the same thing to me. I’d quickly realised there were three types of newly transition. Those who were too stunned by dying to be any trouble. Those who were too stunned by dying and were a whole heap of trouble. And those who were mentally agile enough to understand what was happening and took it on the chin. George was the second one.

Realising he was free he sprang to his feet and took off running in the opposite direction.

“Er …” Sabrina turned to me and pointed after him.

I held my hands up. “You heard Charon. He’s your responsibility. I have my own problems tonight.”

“Thanks, friend,” Sabrina said and sprinted off along the corridor after him.

“No worries,” I called after her as I followed at a comfortable walking pace.

I reached the end of the corridor and turned the corner. Sabrina was standing outside the room I was sure Jeremy had used as a dressing room. She was staring inside from the doorway. Even in profile I could see her perplexed expression.

I caught her up and peeked inside the room. The ghost of the dead guy was wriggling around inside his dead body. Or through his dead body. It was like a trippy 3D image. And standing over the body was Jeremy’s nephew. He was staring at it too.

“Do you think he’s staring at the body or at the ghost trying to climb inside the body?” Sabrina whispered.

I shrugged. “Hey, Jeremy’s nephew?”

The boy turned. His face was slack, as if too much was happening for him to properly process. It took several seconds but, slowly, he lifted his arm and pointed at me.

“I know you.”

“Do you?”

“You used to bring my uncle messages.”

“I did,” I said with a nod.

“Are you bringing me messages now?”

“Nope, just dropped in for a chat.” I looked down at the body as I stepped into the room. “Did you kill him?”

“What?” The nephew stared at me, face still completely blank.

I pointed to the dead body with the ghost wriggling around in it. “Did you kill him? Or anyone else for that matter?”

The boy shook his head. “No. I found him like this.”

“Yeah, that happens to me a lot too,” I said with a sympathetic wince. “Let’s talk about something else. For example, three top-ish mediums dying in two days.”

“Three?” The nephew checked around the room as if he’d somehow missed the other dead bodies. “Who’s dead?”

“Your uncle, Magnificent Malcolm, Allseeing Eric.” I glanced down at George. “Are you sure you don’t know this guy?”

“Malcolm’s dead? Eric too?” The boy supported himself against the counter and rubbed a hand over his face as if he could rub away what was happening.

“Yep, dangerous times to be a medium. Do you know who killed your uncle?” Still looking at the floor, the boy shook his head. I pointed to George. “What about him? I know you said you don’t know him, but do you know who killed him?”

“He was like that when I got here,” the boy said.

“Did your uncle argue with anyone? Did he have any enemies?” I asked. I was aware I was being a little brusque but I was on a schedule.

A flash of teenage arrogance lit up the boy’s face. “You met my uncle.”

I nodded. “Fair point.”

“I did hear him talking to someone about increasing the number of messages he was getting. There’s a new messenger now and he asked her to help him out during shows. And I know he went to meet someone about it on the night he died but I don’t know who.”

“Ask him what she looks like,” Sabrina said. “Actually, don’t bother—I can find out who got your area from the files. No, ask him. Maybe she’s not really a facilitator.”

I turned to look at Sabrina, asking if she’d finished, and she made a shooing motion for me to relay her questions. I did.

“I never saw her—only heard her through a closed door.”

Sabrina gestured to him. “Ask him if he knows anything about Wallace.”

“Did your uncle ever mention anyone called Wallace?” I asked.

“No. Sometimes he would lock himself in a room and I could hear another voice, though.”

“Male or female? And what did they talk about?” I asked.

The nephew held his hands up in a helpless gesture. “The voice was male. And they talked about people. Audience members, I thought.”

“Anyone specific?” I pressed.

“It sounded like different people each time. What was weird, though, was it sounded as if the other guy was getting info from my uncle, not the other way around.” The boy rubbed his eyes with one hand. “But maybe I misunderstood.”

“So Wallace was using Jeremy as a source.” Sabrina looked far too smug for words. “Ask if Jeremy and the others were sharing an afterlife source.”

I relayed the question and the nephew shrugged. “I don’t know. I can’t see that, though. The only way my uncle would share was if the source belonged to one of the others and he was invited into it. He wouldn’t share his contacts.”

“You said he had a meeting on the night he died. Was that at the department store or somewhere else?” I asked.

The boy shook his head. “I don’t know.”

“Okay, well, who do you think killed your uncle?” I asked.

“Honestly, I don’t know. As far as I know, this medium stuff was his life. So I imagine that his death is linked to it somehow.”

“What about the others? Did you know them well?” I asked.

“Only enough to say hi to in passing. Not enough to give you a suspect list. Do you know what happened to my uncle? The police don’t have any suspects. I don’t think they have a clue what happened.” The nephew looked at the body on the floor with George still trying to get back into it. “Was it a ghost who killed him?”

“We’re working on it.” It was the best I could offer him. “Has anyone, a ghost or alive person, approached you?”

“About what?” he asked.

“Anything.”

The nephew shook his head.

“I don’t think he did it, any of it,” Sabrina said from behind me. “He could be faking that whole ‘rabbit in the headlights’ thing but it strikes me as genuine.”

I nodded. “Me too.”

“Okay, tell him to call the police and report this. Then ask if—”

“Why does your friend keep telling you to ask me things?” the nephew asked.

“You can see her?” I asked.

“Yeah.” The boy looked Sabrina over. “And why are you both wearing overalls? My uncle said you guys always wore white suits.”

I glanced at Sabrina. Not even Madame Zorina could see our overalls. So either the nephew was dead or super gifted. I wasn’t particularly happy about either. Sabrina nodded in the boy’s direction.

I shook my head. “Charon didn’t take him.”

“Charon doesn’t check the list,” Sabrina mumbled.

“Okay, I know Charon doesn’t give the vibe that he’s professional but he is. He wouldn’t let dead folk just wander around.”

Sabrina pointed to George, who was still trying get back into his body. “He let him go.”

“No, he made you responsible for him and regardless I can’t find another two bodies. That’s like taking the laws of chance and throwing them out of a space shuttle.”

Sabrina held up a finger to me and turned to the nephew. “Does anyone know you’re a medium?

“It’s not something I advertise,” the boy said.

I looked to Sabrina. “Officer Leonard knew.”

“Did he? Or does he simply suspect?”

“He’s only a child. I don’t really want to take that chance,” I said.

“I’m nineteen.” The boy pushed away from the counter and straightened to his full height, which was pretty tall. “I’m an adult.”

“Uh-huh.” Sabrina looked him over and then turned to me. “I agree.”

“Agree about what?” the boy asked.

“We’re going to take you to another medium friend of ours. Someone’s got it in for mediums, so maybe if you’re together you can watch out for each other,” I explained. “There’s no reason to believe that anyone would be out to kill you, but let’s be safe.”

“Isn’t that like putting all the people the killer would want to murder in one place to make it more convenient for him?” the nephew asked.

“He does have a rather astute point,” Sabrina acknowledged.

“Okay, well, you can either come with us so you and Madame Zorina can watch each other’s backs and help fight the murderer off if they show up or you can fend for yourself. What do you want to do?” I asked.

Sabrina pointed to me but spoke to the nephew. “She has a better point.”

“That’s genius. My wife will be able to fix this.” George stopped wriggling around on the floor as he started to fade away. He looked down at his hands, screamed and disappeared.

“Ohhh. You’re going to be in so much trouble.” I pointed to the space the man had disappeared from. “You lost Charon’s passenger. You’ll probably have to take his place.”

Sabrina shook her head. “No. No, I—”

“Yep. Maybe he’ll take you to his special volcano spot,” I said.

“How did he know how to tunnel anyway?” she asked.

“Panic,” I suggested. “Help me take the nephew to Madame Zorina and she might be able to summon your passenger back.”

“Good plan.” Sabrina crouched down over the body and started rifling through his pockets until she found his wallet.

“Is she stealing from a dead man?” the nephew asked me.

I shook my head as I watched Sabrina pocket George’s wallet. “Kid, I’ve no idea what she’s doing.”

“I was finding out his full name and taking something of his so Madame Zorina could summon him. Let’s go.” Sabrina grimaced as she reached out and wrapped her hand around the boy’s wrist. “Hang on, kid, this is not pleasant.”

The nephew’s head flipped back and forth between us. “What? Maybe you could give me directions then? I can drive. And stop calling me ‘kid’.”

Sabrina nodded at me and together we tunnelled back to Madame Zorina’s office, pulling the boy with us.

I landed on my hands and knees. The boy retched while Sabrina lay curled up in a foetus position on his other side.

She groaned. “I hate doing that. I think I’m going to stay here for a while. Maybe Charon won’t notice he’s down a passenger.”

“He’ll notice,” I said and pushed myself up to sit back on my haunches, still panting. “But you don’t need to get Madame Zorina to summon him.”

“What? Why?” Sabrina croaked.

I nodded to the sobbing figure in one of the visitors’ chairs. “He’s already here.”

Chapter Thirteen

“Do you think he’s going to stop soon?” Sabrina asked as all five of us stood in a semicircle around a crying George.

I eyed him with distaste. “I hope so. I have enough of this when I’m doing my community service. Maybe I can speak to Charon about getting this to count as time off my sentence.”

“You weren’t exactly tactful when you explained his situation,” Petal reprimanded me gently.

I shook my head. “Petal, he’s dead. Nothing can change that. It’s best to rip that plaster right off and deal with the sting.”

“Still, ‘you’re dead, suck it up’ was a bit tactless,” the nephew said.

I held up a finger in his direction. “Okay, first, we can cut you loose so the murderer can take a pop at you—we didn’t have to bring you here and potentially save your life. Second, I deal with this type of behaviour every weekend, all weekend. It’s tiresome. Third, I didn’t slap some backbone into him. I could have and this situation warranted it, but I didn’t. So I’d appreciate it if everyone would cut me some slack here.”

“You wouldn’t have been able to slap any backbone into him,” Madame Zorina said, her mouth twisting in disgust as she looked at the sobbing distraught mess that was her husband. “Believe me, I’ve tried. And as a medium you think he’d take it better.”

“Yeah, you would, wouldn’t you?” I asked with an extremely pointy stare at Madame Zorina.

“So, you guys really are married?” Sabrina asked.

“Well, I suppose I’m officially a widow now, but yes.” Madame Zorina didn’t even sound slightly distressed at her husband’s passing.

“And he’s a medium, too?” Sabrina pressed.

“He’s terrible, though.” Madame Zorina spoke as though she were apologising for him.

“Bridget?” Petal pointed to her watch. Our five minutes were up.

“Find out stuff,” I instructed Sabrina.

Sabrina pursed her lips at me. “No, I thought I’d mind my own business.”

“And make sure you take him back to Charon. Soon,” I reminded her.

“How?” Sabrina asked.

“Figure it out.” I grabbed hold of Petal’s hand and tunnelled us back to the department store before Sabrina could ask any more questions.

“Ah, there you are.” Officer Leonard said as we reappeared by the fitting rooms. “Did you manage to find anything?”

I looked Officer Leonard square in the eye and told him the truth. “Nope.” I had not managed to find a stitch of clothing.

“That’s a shame. Maybe I’ll see if I can arrange another shopping trip for you tomorrow night. It’s important to have enough clothes.”

“Y’know, I think we might be alright. We can make do. Right, Petal?” I asked and Petal nodded slowly as though she didn’t fully understand the question.

“Let’s get you two back upstairs.” Officer Leonard placed his hand on my shoulder and tunnelled us back to the creepy mannequin graveyard.

“Did you check out those two girls?” I asked, scanning the room for them.

“If you’ll excuse me,” Officer Leonard said and walked away without answering my question.

“Does he always walk off in the middle of a conversation?” Petal asked.

“Not always. It tends to happen when—” I sighed and turned around to find Oz standing there.

“They’re letting us go.Petal, can you please round everyone up?” he asked and Petal nodded, smiled at him and skipped off across the room.

“They’re letting us go without questioning us?” I asked Oz.

“Looks like it.” Seconds ticked by and he stood in front of me, arms folded, silent, waiting.

“I went to see the nephew of the first murdered medium I found,” I explained to Oz’s stony expression. “My medium friend was nearly murdered earlier, so I wanted to go and see if the nephew knew anything. I’m not sure if he did or not, but there was another dead medium when we got there. And I only took Petal with me because I thought it was safer than leaving her here. Do you know she’s friends with people who carry switchblades?”

Silently, he placed his hand on my lower back and nudged me toward Petal and the others who were coming our way. Everyone held hands and he tunnelled us all home.

“Anna, can you take everyone inside, please? Pam, maybe boil some milk for hot chocolates?” Oz suggested.

“Oooh, hot chocolate.” Petal reached out to pull me after her but Oz’s warm fingers curled around my wrist.

“I need to speak to Bridget for a moment, Petal. You know where the marshmallows are, right?”

“Is she in trouble?” Petal asked, as Lucy, Pam and Anna all hovered to hear.

“No more than normal. Head on inside,” Oz said and made a shooing motion.

I rounded on Oz as soon as they were out of sight to get my defence in first. “I told you the truth.”

“That doesn’t make it okay,” Oz exclaimed. “I have given you all the latitude I can give you. You cannot keep doing this. Do you understand? I pulled strings to get you into the VTP because that was what you said you needed—”

“I did not say I needed to be a temp.”

“You said you needed to be kept busy. Changing jobs every so often will keep you busy. It’ll give you a chance to learn new skills. And eventually you’ll find the job that is right for you.”

“What if none of these jobs are right for me?”

“Bridget. You’ve tried two.” Oz held up his fingers and counted them off. “Facilitator and induction administrator. You haven’t even given the second one a proper chance yet. You will find a job that’s perfect for you but you have to keep at it. You can’t expect the first job to be right and you can’t give up because it’s not.”

“I’m not giving up. I’m trying,” I exclaimed.

“Are you? Are you genuinely trying to make this work?” Oz stared at me for a long moment. “Because I don’t feel like you are. This isn’t the same as being alive. You don’t get to swap jobs because you don’t like your boss or you don’t like the uniform or you don’t like the office coffee. There are consequences for your actions here in a way that there aren’t in life and, despite the fact I keep stressing it to you, I still don’t think you grasp the severity of what those consequences might be.”

“I do grasp it.”

“No, you don’t,” Oz insisted. “You class a GB as a friend despite the fact he was responsible for giving you a hundred-year community service term and admitting you to a mental facility. He’s used you as bait every other day. You go out of your way to break rules that are meant to keep you, and your housemates, safe. And now you think because you’re telling me the truth about all these illegal things you’re doing, that it’s okay to do it—as long as you tell me.”

I threw my hands up in frustration. “I can’t win with you. I tell you and I’m in trouble. I don’t tell you and I’m in trouble.”

Oz shook his head. “This is exactly what I mean. You don’t see it. Telling me or not telling me is not what gets you in trouble. It’s the doing whatever it is that you might or might not tell me that gets you in trouble.”

“That’s not fair. It’s not my fault that dead bodies keep falling out at me. What am I supposed to do?”

“You’re supposed to let the police handle it.”

“Johnson is inept. He put Katie in a mental institution for murder when she hadn’t even murdered anyone.”

“No, I admitted Katie to the mental institution because she attacked Petal. Johnson attributed the murders to her and that’s what kept her locked up. But I made that initial decision. Because that was what was best for all of my wards. And you need to understand the position you put me in when you keep darting out of the lines. My job is to make sure you’re following the rules. If you don’t follow the rules, then I’m not doing my job.”

“So what? You’ll put me in a mental institution too?”

Oz held my gaze for a long moment. His voice turned soft. “Bridget, you’ll give me no choice but to assign you to a reeducation programme.”

I stilled. “What?”

Oz sighed and rubbed his forehead. “I don’t know why you can’t see that. I’m trying to give you some freedom. I know this situation is difficult for you but think about someone other than yourself for a second. I can’t continue to cover for you. Some point soon, you’re going to step too far out of line and you’re going to force me to report that. You took Petal with you tonight. That places her in this situation with you—”

“I only took her because she was—”

“It doesn’t matter why. Only that you did. Do you think Leonard will care about her? I know about her friends. Not about the weapons, though, and you could have come to me with that. As her parole officer. As your parole officer you should’ve come to me with that. But you didn’t. You told Leonard. And you didn’t need to visit the nephew of the guy you found. I know you think that medium is your friend but she’s alive, and you’re not. And I don’t know why Leonard is encouraging you, but you have to see that being involved with the GBs isn’t good.”

“I’m not involved with them,” I said.

“Leonard sought you out. He arranged the shopping trip tonight so he could talk to you. So you could sneak off.” Oz stepped back and threw his arms up. “You either see this or you don’t. We’re going round in circles. We keep having the same arguments. Over and again and you’re not listening. You’re not learning—”

“I am.”

Oz shook his head. “Not fast enough, Bridget. This thing, whatever it is with Officer Leonard, it has to stop. I can petition the GBs to not speak to you without me present. We can file a motion that’s similar to a restraining order but you have to abide by it. Once it’s filed and approved you’ll get a credit card-sized laminated document. If they try to speak to you then you show them that and they’re not allowed to say anything to you until I’m present. All the information they need to contact me will be on it. So if they persist in speaking to you after you’ve shown them they’ll be breaking the law. But you have to agree to this. If you still speak to them after you’ve shown them the card, then you’ve broken the petition and waived your right to request my presence. Ever. They can question you, hold you, imprison you with impunity and there will be nothing I can do.”

I shook my head. “I’m not going to file a restraining order. I can take—”

“Care of yourself?” Oz finished. “See, that’s part of the problem. You can’t take care of yourself. You don’t understand this place well enough yet. And I know that you don’t seek trouble out but, when it finds you, you cling to it like a life raft.”

“That’s not—”

“No.” Oz held up his hand. “No more, Bridget. No more.”

“Right, you can speak but I can’t?”

“Yes, because nothing you say can change the fact that you’re breaking the rules, that you’re pulling your housemates along with you.” Oz paused and I knew I wasn’t going to like whatever came next. “And one more instance of rule breaking, whether encouraged by Leonard or not, I’m going to request you be placed with another parole officer and file a motion that you can no longer see your ex-housemates unsupervised.”

“What?”

Oz held his arms out to the side in a helpless gesture. “I’ve tried reason, I’ve tried bribing, I’ve tried asking nicely. I’ve got nothing left. You either want to stay here and be part of our family or getting mixed up in whatever trouble comes your way is more important. Decide.”

Oz turned and walked slowly toward the house. He left me standing in the garden alone. I stared at the open kitchen door. It felt like a metaphor. Oz had left it open for me but I’d have to make the decision to walk through it. I mean, technically, I’d have to walk through it since I lived there.

I hated that he’d threatened me. That he’d given me an ultimatum. It made me want to do the opposite just to spite him. And I hated that he’d made me care about my housemates. He’d forced them on me and then he was going to take them away. I couldn’t cave to that type of demand because then he could use it whenever he wanted to get whatever he wanted.

I needed to rant to someone about how unreasonable he was being. I couldn’t do that to my housemates because they were all inside. And, although I knew they’d be sympathetic, they wouldn’t really understand the depth of the problem because they all saw things the way Oz explained them. I could call Sabrina. She’d understand but that would mean going into the house to get the phone and walking through the door seemed like such a huge defeat.

So I did what I always did when I was in trouble, or sad, or needed help. When I needed someone to take my side, regardless of how unreasonable I was being.

I landed in the bright yellow hallway of my mam’s house. There was a breeze from the open patio doors and I wandered along the hallway through the kitchen. A couple of dirty pots were on the hob. My mam never cooked for herself so she must have company. I stepped outside through the open patio door into the garden. My parents were sitting on a swinging bench that had not been there the last time I’ve visited. And the patio portion of the garden had been decked. I was guessing it was my dad’s handiwork. It looked good.

They were sitting in silence, the swing seat moving gently, watching the sunset. My dad had left us when I’d been in my early teens but they seemed to have rekindled their relationship after my death. I’d thought I’d have been happy about it. And initially I had been because I didn’t want my mam to be on her own. But as time went on the happiness had faded into confusion. And now it made me feel a jumble of different things.

I sat on the step of the decking and watched the sunset with them. I felt oddly alone. I wanted to reach out for my mam. I wanted her to hug me and tell me that everything would be okay. That we would find a way over the problem like we found a way over every problem. That I shouldn’t worry because that didn’t help. That everything would be okay.

But I knew my fingers would move straight through her. I knew she wouldn’t see me. I felt the tears on my cheeks for what was in front of me but that I would never be able to touch again. I’d been there maybe half an hour before I felt someone come up behind me. I swiped my cheeks with my cuff as if he wouldn’t know. Oz sat next to me on the step without saying anything.

“You know, she could be so stubborn.” It was the first thing my mam had said since I’d gotten there. Almost as if she’d been waiting for Oz.

“I wonder where she got that from,” my dad murmured.

“Not long after you left she dyed the ends of her hair blue. The school sent her home, but she refused to wash it out. She didn’t wash her hair for nearly two months in case the colour accidentally came out. It was this awful matted mess at the end. I nearly took the garden hose to her.”

My dad laughed, but it was a sombre sound. “I wish I’d been around to see that.”

“You broke her heart when you left. You hurt me but you broke her.” There wasn’t accusation in my mam’s voice, only hurt. “That’s why she ended up with that scumbag from London. She was scared that if she loved someone they would leave. She pushed everyone away.”

“I can’t change what happened. If I could go back I would, but I can’t.”

My mam nodded. “I know but I wonder if she’d ever have grown out of it.”

“She would have.” My dad sounded so certain. My mam looked at him and he brushed a strand of her blonde hair out of her face. “She was stubborn, not stupid.”

“I miss her so much.”

“Me too.”

“I know we buried her, but it doesn’t feel like she’s gone. Not like she’s haunting us, but not like she’s watching over us either. I feel like she’s not at peace.”

I saw my dad’s sad smile. He didn’t say anything, which I took to mean he felt the same. He stood and offered her his hand. I noticed a shiny gold band on his wedding finger. My mam placed her hand in his and I saw a matching one on her finger. I was pretty sure they hadn’t been there last time I’d checked in on them. They’d gotten remarried. I’d been dead a month and their lives had moved on. So fast. My chest tightened and I tried to suffocate a fresh wave of tears. My dad pulled my mam after him and they danced slowly around the garden.

Oz and I watched as my dad twirled my mam around the garden one last time before heading inside. We sat in silence watching the sun slowly sink toward the horizon.

“He didn’t leave because of you.” Oz spoke quietly into the still night. “And he didn’t get back together with your mum because you weren’t there anymore. Don’t think that.”

It took several swallows before I could speak without my voice catching on a sob. “I don’t think that.”

“Bridget, he realised his mistake a long time ago but he didn’t know how to come back.”

“He knew where we lived.”

“That’s not what I mean and you know it. Don’t think that they broke up because of you and don’t think they got back together because you were gone. That’s not what’s happened.”

“Well, it looks a lot like what happened to me.” I felt heartbroken all over again. And betrayed. My dad had come back after I died. After I wasn’t in the way anymore.

Oz crouched in front of me. “That is not what happened. Don’t let yourself believe that. He didn’t know how to come back. Don’t make that mistake, Bridget. Don’t walk away because you don’t appreciate what you have. Don’t do that. Your dad came back but he was too late. Don’t let that be you.”

When I didn't say anything, Oz picked me up and settled me on the swinging seat, sitting next to me. He held my hand and I rested my head on his shoulder. We watched until the sun finally sank below the horizon. I knew Oz, though he might not want to, would hold true to his threat because he had other people to worry about. The afterlife was an eternity. I didn’t want to spend it alone. I felt the tension drain out of Oz’s shoulders.

“I thought you weren’t going to emotionally surveil me anymore,” I said.

“You’re hard to keep up with sometimes,” he said and it almost sounded like an apology. He wasn’t going to ask me what we were going to do. He was going to wait for me.

“Register that petition.”

Oz leaned back to look at me and I lifted my head off his shoulder. “Are you sure? Once it’s done we can’t retract it. It’s permanent.”

I nodded. “I don’t want to be on my own anymore.”

“You’re not on your own, Bridget. That’s what I keep trying to tell you. You have people that love you, that you’re unofficially responsible for.” Oz glanced over his shoulder back at the house. “Are you ready to go?”

I nodded again. “Take me home.”

“Before we go, I think we need to talk about this eyeliner.”

“I agreed to the petition so how about you give me some leeway on this. I love my eyeliner. I don’t want to give it up. I don’t see what the problem is.”

“That’s because you’re not looking at what I’m looking at.” Oz winced as he gestured to my face.

“Why?” I sat up straight and wiped at my eyes. My fingers came away streaked with black. “What’s wrong with my face?”

Chapter Fourteen

“Morning, Bridget,” Petal called from across the kitchen. She’d fully forgiven me for telling on her friends the night before.

“We’ve been waiting for you for ages,” Pam said.

“What took you so long?” Lucy asked. “You don’t even look all that pretty this morning.”

“Don’t be mean, hon,” Anna said. “Bridget is doing the best she can with what she’s got.”

“Thanks, Anna.” I felt I could be magnanimous since I’d decanted half a bottle of her hair conditioner into mine and topped hers up with water.

I noticed Oz carefully cataloguing my attire. He gave me a smile and a small nod, which I took as a thank you. I’d decided against my heels and returned to my flat pumps. Not because I’d wanted to but my feet were sore from the million barefoot activities of the previous day. And I’d not used my mascara as eyeliner again because it had been a nightmare to get off. And after the sobbing disaster I was not eager to look like I belonged in an eighties heavy metal band again if I could help it. I still had my mascara on, though, because there were limits.

“Are we going?” Petal asked as she shuffled toward the door.

“Going where?” Oz turned away from the hob, suddenly on high alert.

“We’re having breakfast in the canteen today,” Pam explained, although she didn’t take her eyes off the fry-up that Oz was cooking. For someone who was all about healthy food I thought it was weird. Although I guess a fry-up was still vegetables. Even if they were fried.

“Why?” Oz directed the question at me.

Lucy answered and pointed to Anna and Katie in turn. “Because no one there is rude and no one there has tried to kill Petal.”

“Okay.” Oz dropped the spatula in the frying pan and faced the kitchen with his hands raised. It looked like he was surrendering but I was pretty sure that wasn’t what was happening. “Tonight we’re going to talk this out. I can’t take any more of this sniping.”

“Well, that will only work if everyone speaks,” Pam said with a pointed look at Katie.

“Everyone will have a chance to have their say and we can get this all out in the open and move forward,” Oz said.

“I think that’s a great idea,” Anna said.

“Really?” I asked. “I don’t think getting people to explain why they don’t like other people ever works out well. It kind of drives the dislike home.”

“Do you have another suggestion?” Oz asked.

I shook my head. “Nope.”

“Then that’s what we’ll do,” Oz said and returned to his cooking.

“Now, can we go?” Petal asked.

I moved to the breakfast bar and sat down. Not too close to Katie in case she decided to stab me with her spoon for no reason and not too close to Anna because I didn’t want her hair in my food. “I think maybe we should eat here. Oz has already cooked, so it seems a waste not to.”

All five housemates stared at me. Even Katie. Though Katie looked more suspicious than surprised. It didn’t matter. If I went to the canteen and had breakfast there, Sabrina would fill me in on everything I missed at Madame Zorina’s last night and then we’d make a plan to investigate and Oz would kick me out. Yes, I could go and have breakfast with Sabrina and not make that plan, but I knew that wouldn’t happen. I was self-aware. And as a self-aware person I knew I had no self-control. So it was best not to put myself in harm’s way.

Oz placed his hand on my shoulder and gave it a light squeeze as he put a heaped plate of fried vegetables in front of me. I was pretty sure that was his way of acknowledging I was trying and saying thank you without actually saying it.

“Are you three staying?” Oz asked Lucy, Pam and Petal, who were hovering by the door as if waiting for me to jump back up and rush out.

“I guess so,” Lucy said and dropped into the seat opposite me. She peered into my heaped plate of fried vegetables. “I don’t want the carrots, though. Can I not have carrots?”

“Pick them out,” Oz said and placed a plate in front of Lucy.

“Are you okay?” Petal whispered, sitting between Anna and me. “Did Oz tell you off last night?”

I shook my head. “He helped me reorganise my priorities.”

“What’s top now?” Pam asked as she sat next to Lucy and scraped the small pile of carrots from Lucy’s plate onto her own. “It can’t be the eyeliner because you’re not wearing it. Or those awful shoes because you’re not wearing those either.”

“Your hair?” Lucy asked.

“It should be your hair, hon,” Anna agreed with a sympathetic nod. “Seeing as how you can’t do anything about your waistline.”

“I think it’s smiling,” said Petal. “Smiling should be everyone’s priority. And you’re so pretty when you smile.”

“So what is it?” Lucy looked up from digging more carrots out of her breakfast.

I shrugged. “Just, y’know, family and stuff.”

“Do you mean your mum?” Petal asked.

“She means all of you,” Oz said.

And then I found myself under a multi-pronged attack as three pairs of arms wrapped themselves around me and nearly pulled me off my stool.

“Okay. Enough,” I said, spitting strands of Petal’s candy floss hair out of my mouth. No one moved. “Oz? A little help?”

Oz eased Petal off me. “Come on, guys. Let her go. You know how grumpy she gets when she’s trying to eat. Or when you touch her. Or in general.”

Anna pointed her fork at my plate. “Food isn’t love, hon.”

“I know that, Anna, but I appreciate you taking the time and being invested enough in my emotional well-being to remind me.”

“You’re … welcome,” Anna drew the words out, trying to find the insult in my comeback.

∞

“Hey there, Bridget. I’m so glad you’re back,” Sean said when I arrived at Afterlife Arrivals. “We have such a jam-packed day today. I hope you had your Weetabix.”

“Actually, I had a fry-up but I feel that should’ve fortified me enough. It is technically a plate of vegetables.” I patted my full stomach. “What’s on the agenda today?”

“A little bit of filing before we can sign off the previous group and then we have a new group to induct. Yay.” Sean clapped against his clipboard and did a funny sort of half hop. “Yay?”

“I can’t quite muster a yay for filing but I can muster a silently positive attitude,” I said. I was trying to turn over a new leaf, it was true. But the new leaf did not include weird little half hop jumps or saying the word “yay”.

“I can work with that. Do you know how to file?” He motioned with his clipboard for me to follow him out of the tunnelling room.

I cast a sidelong glance at him. Nope, he wasn’t trying to be funny—he was genuinely asking.

“Uh-huh. Words that start with ‘a’ are filed under ‘a’.”

“Exactly. You do know how to file,” Sean exclaimed and stared at me as if I’d said I could fly.

“How many letters in are we alphabetising?” I asked.

“Oh, we’re going to do the whole alphabet,” Sean said with a nod.

I cast another sideways glance at him. Nope, once again he wasn’t trying to be funny. “I meant, for example ‘abduct’ would be filed ahead of ‘addition’ because the second letter of ‘abduct’ is a ‘b’ compared to ‘d’ in ‘addition’. But ‘abbreviation’ would be filed ahead of ‘abduct’ because the third letter is ‘b’ which comes before ‘d’ so …” I let the sentence trail off because Sean had stopped walking and was staring at me, wide-eyed and mouth ajar, in what looked disturbingly like awe.

“That’s crazy,” Sean whispered. “How did you come up with that system? Can you teach me?”

“Sure.” I was not comfortable with the way he was staring at me as if I were some office organising guru. I mean, I was, and I could get a little OCD about it, but the awe was just too much.

“Thank you, Bridget.” Sean gripped my wrist with his free hand and shook it as if to emphasise his gratitude.

“Umm. No problem. Shall we get to it?”

“Ab-so-lutely!” Sean released my hand to clap on his clipboard again. He spun on one foot and walked along the corridor with an extra spring in his step.

Maybe I’d be able to do this. Maybe Oz was right. I hadn’t been trying hard enough. No, Oz was definitely right but I still wasn’t saying “yay” or doing a happy dance. Two corridors later we came to a stop outside a blue door.

“Is this where all those forms we fill out when we come through Afterlife Arrivals get stored?” The door had no plaque or sign to say what lay beyond it. Maybe this was where Sabrina worked.

“Those files go to the bureau.” Sean pulled a small bunch of keys from his pocket. They were attached by a lanyard hooked through a belt loop. In life I’d always judged those people but I liked Sean so I gave him a pass.

“So what files are in here?” I asked and followed him into the room. Only it wasn’t a room. It was a multistorey car park. With aisles of filing cabinets.

“Death files. Do you remember filling out an incident report type of form about the day you died?”

“Vaguely.” There had been a lot of forms to fill out.

“Well, that form is almost like a ‘how did we do’ questionnaire on the whole dying process. These files contain all information on deaths. Circumstances, repercussions, anything unexpected that occurred during the death. All that information gets recorded and filed away here.”

“These files contain all that information?” I asked.

“Yep.”

“So, if you were murdered, for example, it would list who murdered you? And how?”

Sean grimaced. “That’s a bit gruesome.”

“Hang on, this is part of the coordinator’s job, though, right? The filing of reports and such?” Because if Sabrina had access to this we would never have to be nearly murdered solving a murder again.

“No. The coordinators deal with the general afterlife personnel files. These are specifically The Fates files,” Sean said. “Completely separate departments.”

“The Fates? As in the Fates?” I asked. “Three old crones who share an eye?”

“I don’t think it’s politically correct to call older ladies crones,” Sean whispered.

“No, it’s a Greek thing.”

“Greek people call their elderly ‘crones’?” Sean stepped back to look me over. “Are you Greek?”

I opened my mouth to explain and then realised that might take more effort than it was worth. “So, who do these files belong to?”

“The Fates. The Health and Efficiency Formula Applied Theoretical Effective Solutions department. They work on the third floor of the Bureau of Ghostly Affairs. They’re the people who decide who lives and who dies.”

“The Health and Efficiency Formula Applied Theoretical Effective Solutions department,” I repeated slowly. I understood the words individually but my brain revolted at trying to discern the meaning when they were clumped together like that.

Sean nodded. “That’s right.”

“So, there’s a whole department of people who decide who lives and who dies?”

“Yep. Although it’s not like they just roll a dice.” Sean paused. “At least I don’t think they do.”

“And you don’t have a problem with that?”

“With them rolling a dice? It just seems a bit lazy, don’t you think?” Sean asked.

“No, with a department of people deciding who lives and who dies.”

“Oh. It is what it is. People have to die or the alive plane would be overpopulated. The Fates department select people who will be useful. Well, not everyone is here because of their usefulness. Every plane has to take their share of unuseful people.”

“What do you mean by every plane? And how is a person’s usefulness decided?” I asked.

“No idea,” Sean said with a shrug. “Now, let’s get to filing!”

“No—wait—I—wait—” My brain just couldn’t ingest that heap of super information and simply carry on.

“Okay.” Sean stood still and waited. He checked his watch and waited a few more seconds. “Was that long enough? Do you think we’ll manage to get this whole floor changed to your awesome new system before lunch?”

For the millionth time I cast a sidelong glance his way. Nope. He was serious. I shook my head and blew out a breath. “We can try.”

“I like this new positive Bridget.” Sean handed me a stack of files. “Now. The rules. And these are super important. You are not allowed to access the file of any person you don’t have in your pile of forms. You are not allowed to look in the files you’re accessing. You have to push all the paper already in the file to the front and slide the paper you’re filing in behind everything. This has to go at the back. Then you close the drawer without looking at any other file in the drawer and without looking in the file you’ve accessed and move on. Do you think you’ll be able to remember that?”

“Yep. Don’t look at anything. Push the paper forward. Slot the new sheet in at the back. Close the drawer.”

Sean nodded. “Okay. Now repeat that.”

“Repeat it?”

“Yes, I want to make certain you understand. I don’t want you to have your eyes disintegrated because I didn’t explain the rules clearly enough to you. I would feel terrible. So, repeat what you’re going to do.”

“Whoa. Why would my eyes disintegrate?”

“See, this is why it’s important you repeat what you’re going to do so I know you understand the rules.”

“Sean, you absolutely never mentioned anything about my eyes disintegrating. I would definitely have remembered.”

Sean frowned at me. “Are you sure?”

“Yes! Why would my eyes disintegrate?”

“Oh. Okay, well, it happens if you see something you’re not supposed to. So, remember. Open the drawer, find the file, move the paper inside forward, slot the form in and close the drawer without looking at anything.”

“Okay, but how will my eyes disintegrate? How?”

Sean shrugged. “I’m not sure on the specifics because I’ve never seen it happen myself, but those are the rules. You always have so many questions.”

“What if I accidentally see a file?”

“Try not to. I’m not sure the eye disintegrator will recognise the distinction of intention.” Sean clapped against his clipboard. “Let’s file!”

We’d been working for maybe ten minutes when the door opened and someone called Sean’s name. It sounded like Treble. Sean jogged to the door, there was a little muttering and then Sean called out to me.

“I’m over in the g’s,” I called back.

Sean appeared at the end of the aisle. “Apparently, our crop of newly transitioned are here earlier than scheduled. I have to greet them. Would it be okay if I left you to finish the filing?” Sean asked, not exactly offering his stack of forms but holding them slightly in front of him as if not sure what I was going to say. It made me feel a little bad that he was hesitant to ask me.

“Sure.” I took them from his hands and added them to my pile.

“I would take you with me but the filing needs to be completed,” Sean said and it sounded like an apology.

“It’s fine, honestly.” I shooed him back in the direction of the door.

“Remember. Don’t look in any file you don’t have in your pile and don’t look in any file you do have in your pile. Open the drawer, find the folder, slot the paper inside and close the drawer,” he reminded me, as though he hadn’t already stressed that.

“I know.”

“And come and find me when you’re done. We’ll be in the same room as last time,” Sean said, already backing away. “Actually, don’t find me. Wait by the door for someone to pass and get them to come and get me. This door is always meant to be locked. Obviously, I won’t lock the room with you inside. Health and safety.”

Yeah, don’t lock me inside in case I burn to death, but having my eyes disintegrate because I accidentally saw a file? Yeah, let’s not worry about the health and safety implications of that.

“No one will come in. But if they do, you have to challenge them, okay? They need to show you one of these.” Sean held up a turquoise fob.

“What if they don’t have one?” I asked.

“They will, or they wouldn’t be in here,” Sean said simply.

“But what if they don’t?”

“Always with the questions.” Sean shook his head at me and then pointed to my stack of forms. “Don’t be long, okay? We’ll have to do your awesome filing another day.”

“Sean, what if they ask me to show them my turquoise fob?”

“You won’t need to show them. You’re already inside the room so they’ll assume you already have one. Silly, Bridget,” Sean said with a happy grin and then jogged off in the direction of the door before I could point out the several flaws in his logic.

Sighing at the ridiculous nature of the afterlife I moved along the aisle to the next cabinet. I opened the drawer, placed the piece of paper inside the file. I checked the name at the top of the next piece of paper. Moved to the right aisle, found the file and placed the piece of paper inside. I had a nice, steady rhythm going until I checked the name on the next form. Jeremy Thomas Leith.

I stared at it. It was blank. What did that mean? He hadn’t filled it in at Arrivals, so did I need to still put it in his file? Obviously I did or the form would be classed as missing, right? Sean had said the files contained circumstances of death so maybe murderers’ names would be listed. Wouldn’t that be handy. But that couldn’t be right because if they were listed then why wouldn’t the police check these files? It would save a lot of hassle. Unless it was to do with the eye disintegration thing. Would everyone’s eyes disintegrate? Surely, there must be an off switch. Was the eye disintegration even a thing? And, surely, the police would be immune because they were the police and they’d need to know this stuff? Right?

I had Jeremy’s file so I had a reason to be in that drawer. I could squint with one eye into his file. That way, if the eye disintegrator were a real thing it would only get the one eye. I could live with one eye. I could wear a patch. Like a pirate. I could change my whole signature style.

“No, no, no, no, no! I am not willing to sacrifice an eye. That’s ridiculous. And a person’s murderer will not be listed anyway. They absolutely cannot be listed and, even if they were, is it worth mystically having one or possibly both of your eyes disintegrated? No, it’s not.” I stared down at the sheet in my hand. Would Jeremy’s murderer be listed? Or did the circumstances of death Sean mentioned come from the forms that we filled out? Which clearly meant Jeremy didn’t know who killed him. Would there be more information in his file here? Surely there would.

I’d promised Oz I wouldn’t get involved in this stuff anymore. And yet, what if Jeremy’s murderer was listed on a different form in his file? And what if they thought I saw something? What if they were going to try to kill me next? Or one of my housemates because I’d gotten them involved with the questioning? Surely, Oz would make this one exception.

But then, it wouldn’t be like I’d be able to tell anyone who the murderer was because I’d have to admit where I got the name from. If the file had the name and I didn’t lose my sight before I was able to read it. Maybe I didn’t need to tell anyone except Sabrina, my housemates and Oz, so they’d know who to look out for. Would Oz view this as snooping or would he let it go in this case? He couldn’t. Because if he did he would set a precedent that if I could make a good enough argument I could still break the rules.

I was still arguing with myself when the door opened again. My brain was ready to pass the sheet over to Sean and yet my hand slipped it to the bottom of my pile. Cleary, I was conflicted.

I was about to shout out to him to let him know where I was and then I realised he hadn’t called out to me. Maybe it wasn’t Sean after all. I held my breath and listened for footsteps. I couldn’t hear any but that didn’t necessarily mean anything—maybe they were walking super quietly. But I’d definitely heard the door go. I opened my mouth to shout a greeting and challenge the person like Sean had asked me to. And then I realised they hadn’t called out to me. If they knew the rules like Sean, then they’d know that the room wasn’t supposed to be open. So they should be shouting out to me too, right?

“You’re being ridiculous,” I mumbled to myself. “A lot of people probably have keys to this room. A lot of people probably come here to do filing. Maybe they didn’t notice the door was unlocked. Maybe they swiped their fob without checking.”

I turned back to my pile and then stopped. Sean had said to challenge anyone. What if he came back and asked the other person if I’d challenged them? Or what if it was Sean testing me? I was supposed to be trying.

“Hello? Is anyone there?” I called and walked to the front of the room. I emerged from the aisle and looked both ways. There was no one there. And no one answered. “Hello?” Maybe I’d imagined the door opening. Or maybe they had earphones in. It was the afterlife but we still had earphones, right? I wandered along the spine of the aisles looking down each but I didn’t see anyone. I walked back the other way, checking the aisles as I went. Still no one. I couldn’t hear anyone walking around or any screaming from eye disintegrating pain because they were snooping in files they shouldn’t have snooped in.

Maybe I’d imagined it. Assuming someone else was snooping because that’s what I was thinking about doing.

“Maybe you should get on with the task in hand,” I murmured to myself. Taking my own advice, I checked the name on the next sheet and filed it away. Albeit a lot more quietly than I had been previously. Half of my brain was still listening for someone in the room. I’d completed three more sheets before I heard the door open and close again.

“Okay, I definitely heard it that time.” I hadn’t heard the lock snap into place so maybe it was someone else coming in. Surely, they’d have noticed that it was unlocked. What were the chances of two people not noticing? Or maybe it was the other person leaving. And if they hadn’t locked the door after them then they definitely hadn’t been doing anything on the up and up. Or maybe they were still here and trying to lull me into a false sense of security so they could strangle me too. The door opened again.

“Bridget?” Sean called from the door.

“I’m over in the ‘B’s,” I called back and Sean appeared at the bottom of the aisle, his complexion flushed. “What happened?”

Sean wafted his face with his hand to cool himself down as he walked to me. “It was a false alarm. Someone told someone who told someone who passed a message on and the actual message got lost in translation somewhere. Anyway, no one was waiting for us.”

Sean held his hand out for some of the forms while he was still at the other end of the aisle. I walked toward him and, without thinking, offered him the bottom section of my pile. Sean placed the forms face down on his clipboard and flipped over the top one. Was I supposed to do it that way?

“Leith …” Sean read the surname and paused. “That was the name of the man who the bus driver took on a trip to the volcano?”

“Umm, I think so,” I said with a slow nod, anticipating being told off.

“You seemed to be on friendly terms with the bus driver,” Sean said while focusing intently on bending a corner of Jeremy’s form back and forth.

“I guess …”

“Do you think—if you asked him nicely—do you think that he might show me the inside of a volcano? I can’t imagine. It must be amazing.” Sean flicked his eyes up at me quickly before focusing back on the corner he was bending. “I don’t want to overstep on our friendship, so if you don’t want to ask then I completely understand,” Sean rushed on.

“When we pick up the next group I’ll ask him, okay?” I said and felt a wave of relief that I wasn’t in trouble for it.

“Really? You’d do that for me?” Sean asked, his voice dripping with so much hope it made me uncomfortable.

“Yep,” I said with a nod and made a mental note to make sure I told Oz about how well I was trying. And then erased that note because it would only prompt more questions about why Sean was asking in the first place.

“Thanks, Bridget.”

“No worries,” I said with a shrug because I didn’t know what else to say.

“Okay. Let’s get filing.” Sean clapped on his clipboard and jogged away down the aisle.

A few minutes passed in silent filing before Sean called to me.

“Can you come here a minute, Bridget?”

“What’s up?” I asked, heading in his direction.

“Did you start your super awesome filing already?” Sean asked as he frowned into an open drawer. Closed it. Opened another and frowned into that.

“No, why?” I asked, watching him. The air was heavy with missed opportunities, worry and anticipation of the eye disintegrator gearing up.

Sean gestured to the drawers. “I can’t find this file. Would you check for me? Maybe I’m overexcited.”

I nodded. “Sure. Maybe someone has put it back in the wrong place.”

We checked all the ‘J’s. Then the ‘T’s. And finally all the ‘L’s. Then we checked them again. The file was definitely gone.

Chapter Fifteen

“Where were you this morning?” Sabrina asked as I sat down next to her in the canteen at lunchtime.

“Oz said he’d kick me out if I didn’t stop investigating stuff so I did what everyone does when they get upset and need someone to take their side—”

Sabrina nodded. “You went home to see your mum.”

“Yes. But when I got there she and my dad were talking about how I’m haunting them and they’ve gotten remarried. Without telling me. Yes.” I held my hand up to stop Sabrina’s comment. “I know I’m dead and they can’t tell me, or ask my permission—”

“They needed your permission?” Sabrina arched an eyebrow at me.

“Obviously, they didn’t need my permission but I would’ve liked to have been consulted. Yes. Again. I know I’m dead. Then I got upset because I felt like I was the reason they broke up. So I’m all sobby and feeling all lonely and then Oz turns up.”

“What did he do? He didn’t give you permission to go, right?” Sabrina asked. “So you’d broken the rules right after he told you he’d kick you out if you broke the rules?”

“Nothing. He sat there in a disgustingly companionable silence making sure I knew I wasn’t alone. Then I agreed to sign a sort of restraining order against Officer Leonard and the GBs so they can’t keep dragging me into stuff, and I promised Oz I would try to fit in. So I had breakfast at home this morning to show him I was trying and because I am desperate to know what happened with Madame Zorina’s husband—but I knew if I came to breakfast we’d make an investigating plan and my promise to Oz would be worthless and I’d be homeless by the end of the day.”

“This is true.” Sabrina gestured to me with her coffee cup. “But you could’ve come to breakfast. I got nothing from George after you left last night. He’d only just stopped crying by the time Charon appeared to collect him and I’ve not been able to snoop through files all morning because they’re still training newbies how to file words that begin with ‘a’ under ‘a’. All I could manage was to quickly check Olive’s and Tina’s files. Both have brothers at university.”

“Wow, so you had to work this morning? That’s awful.” I patted her hand in faux sympathy.

“Shut up.”

“I could but then how will I share my new knowledge?” I asked and took a very smug sip of my tea.

Sabrina twisted in her chair to face me. “You have permission to speak.”

“Shucks, I’m honoured. You’re so generous,” I mocked and then filled her in.

“To recap”—Sabrina counted the points off on her fingers—“a department of people decide who lives and who dies. Details of deaths are kept in these files. Treble called Sean out of the room but there were no newly transitioned waiting. While Sean was out of the room someone came in. Jeremy’s file is missing. And there’s an eye disintegrator as a security measure.”

“That’s about the size of it.” I nodded. “And I checked but Magnificent Malcolm’s and Allseeing Eric’s files were gone too.”

Sabrina grinned at me. “Way to not break your promise to Oz.”

“I’m sorry, whose side are you on here?”

“What about Madame Zorina’s husband’s file?”

I shook my head. “I didn’t know his last name. And I don’t know what’s actually in those files. They might not have all the answers, anyway.”

“Maybe,” Sabrina conceded and took a sip of coffee. “And I know you can’t get involved, but we can still guess who it is so we know who to be careful around, right? Self-preservation and all.”

“See, this is what I mean about you making everything so reasonable,” I grumbled.

Sabrina nodded. “The Fates knew my worth.”

“Suspects. Olive and Tina? And I’m all over Treble being a suspect after him being the one to get Sean out of the room.”

“And because you don’t like him,” Sabrina added.

“That too. And I know there was training going on but did you find out who Zendar the Mighty is?”

Sabrina banged the table with her open palm. “Yes! Why do I keep forgetting this stuff? It’s George. Madame Zorina’s husband.”

“So that makes Tina Jeremy’s snitch and Olive the murderer? Or Olive the snitch and the murderer. Or Tina the murderer and the snitch. But why would either murder Jeremy? Unless Tina and Olive are snitches and it’s Treble doing all the murdering.”

Sabrina seesawed her hand. “I don’t really see this Olive as the murderer. I saw her picture on the file and she looks tiny.”

“Right. Because short people never commit murders.”

“I meant that it is incredibly unlikely that it was her who strangled Madame Zorina, since you said that the figure hid her from you.”

“Okay, that’s a valid point. Oh, she’s in cahoots with Janice. Janice could’ve totally hidden Madame Zorina from me. Did Olive’s family have a run-in with the other dead mediums?”

“Didn’t get chance to check before lunch. I’ll try this afternoon.”

“I thought you checked their files.”

Sabrina held up her hand in my face. “First, these files can be more than an inch thick so it takes time to retrieve all the possibly relevant information. Time I don’t have with newbies swarming all over me.” Sabrina scanned the canteen. “Talking about people swarming all over me, where are your housemates? And Pete and Charlie? Or any facilitator?”

I looked around the hall and checked my wrist and realised I’d still not got a watch. “It’s the normal lunchtime, right?”

“Do you think it has something to do with the deaths?” Sabrina pursed her lips as she looked around the room. “Who could we ask that might know?”

“Alexander. On reception. He deals with facilitators all the time. Surely, he’d know if something was going on.”

Sabrina snapped her fingers at me. “Good plan. You haven’t told him you’ve changed jobs yet, right?”

“No, why?”

“Because you could be stopping by to let him know and casually mention that you noticed there weren’t many facilitators around at lunch and does he know what’s happening. That’s not investigating or breaking your promise to Oz.”

“No, it is bending it pretty far, though.”

“First, you’ve already snooped through files. Second, imagine you hadn’t found three dead bodies, wouldn’t you still be curious about why there were no facilitators around?” Sabrina reasoned.

“See, this is exactly why I didn’t want to come for breakfast this morning because you make all the rule breaking seem so reasonable.”

“That’s because it is. You go and check in with Alexander and I’ll get you a doughnut to go back to work with.”

“Why aren’t you coming?” I asked.

“Because Alexander likes you. He’s more likely to be open if you go alone.”

I sighed at the common sense logic that made and got up. It wasn’t like I didn’t want to go and see Alexander. I liked him but I just felt it was a bit sneaky. I picked up my tray and headed to the hatch. I was so busy trying to get a peek at the doughnuts on offer so I could direct Sabrina appropriately and walked straight into Olive.

I grabbed her arm to steady her as she stumbled to the side. “Sorry, Olive. I was looking at the cakes.”

Olive righted a bottle of water that had fallen over on her tray and smiled at me. “That’s okay, I know it wasn’t on purpose. How are—”

“This makes the third time you’ve blatantly disregarded my requests about contact with my wards.” Janice moved up to stand directly behind Olive. She placed her hands on Olive’s shoulders and gently nudged her away.

“Actually, since you told me after the first time I spoke to her this only makes the second time that I’m blatantly disregarding your requests.” Janice opened her mouth to respond but I held up my hand to stop her. “I was on my way out and I bumped into her. I was apologising.”

“You physically assaulted her? That’s it, I’m taking you to the police station to file a report.” Janice reached out to grab my arm but I stepped out of her reach.

“Don’t you think you’re overreacting slightly here?” I asked.

“Ladies, are you two not getting along again?” Richards asked from behind me.

Janice jabbed a finger at me. “She assaulted my ward. I want her prosecuted.”

“Who did she assault?” Richard’s asked and Janice pointed to Olive, who was happily eating some tomato pasta concoction several tables away. Richards looked from Olive back to Janice. “She looks alright to me.”

“If Officer Peaks feels an assault has been committed then we have to honour that accusation and investigate,” Treble said, appearing to the side of Richards.

“I think we can use our discretion here, Officer Treble, don’t you?” Richards cajoled. “The so-called victim is happily eating her lunch. I think Officer Peaks might have misconstrued the altercation slightly.”

“I want to file a complaint.” Janice directed her comment to Treble.

“As you are well within your right to do so.” Officer Treble extended his arm as if to guide Janice toward the doors but Richards grabbed it.

“I saw what happened. Ms Sway bumped into her. It was an accident. She apologised. No one was harmed. Let’s not make a big deal out of a mishap.” Richards let go of Treble and motioned for me to walk past him to the kitchen hatch.

“I want to make a complaint against him, too.” Janice pointed to Richards but spoke to Treble.

“For saving everyone some time and effort because you overreacted. Twice.” Richards shook his head at her. “The bureau will back me and then you’ll have a note on your file that you made false allegations against a GB. Is that what you want?”

The expression on Janice’s face told me that Richards had a point. She threw a heavy scowl my way and stormed off to sit next to her ward. There was an odd mix of people sitting at the table. Were they all her wards? Did she make them all lunch together so she could supervise?

I left Treble and Richards to a stony silence and headed to the kitchen hatch to dump my tray before anyone else could stop me or accuse me of anything.

I glanced over at Sabrina, who’d missed the whole thing because she was so focused on the cake display, and headed out of the canteen right into Officer Leonard.

“Ms Sway.” He greeted me with his usual amiable smile. It was almost as if he’d been waiting for me.

“Officer Leonard.” I gave him a polite nod and kept walking.

“Problems?” he asked, glancing over my shoulder at the two GBs I’d left in my wake.

I shook my head. “Nope.”

“Good.” Officer Leonard stepped into my path. “I believe that your parole officer has filed a petition that any communication between you and any officials cannot happen without his presence. That’s a shame, I do enjoy our chats.”

“Me too, but I enjoy living with my parole officer and my housemates more. It’s a question of priorities.” I gave him a small shrug.

“I can understand that. And these petitions can take a while to be processed so I do hope that, if you were to need assistance from an official channel in the meantime—”

“You would be my first call.” It felt oddly like a breakup. I gestured past him. “Excuse me.”

Officer Leonard stepped to the side and swept his arm wide for me to go. I had the vaguest sense that he was happy about the restraining order. Which he shouldn’t have been, right? Because that wouldn’t make sense.

“Bridget,” Alexander exclaimed when he saw me. “Where have you been? I was beginning to think you’d fallen prey to all those murderers you socialise with.”

“Happily, not yet, Alexander. I’ve been reassigned. I wanted to stop by and let you know.”

“Oh, no. So I won’t get to see you anymore?”

“I’ll still drop by,” I said and felt oddly sad that I wouldn’t see him every day. My second breakup of the day.

“What are you doing now?”

“I’m working in Afterlife Arrivals.”

Alexander wrinkled up his perfectly aquiline nose. “With the newly transitioned?”

“Yep,” I said and mirrored his expression.

Alexander held up a finger and ducked behind the counter. When he came back up he was holding a bottle of hand sanitiser by the screw lid and a pump in a sealed packet. “Consider this a new job present. I’ve heard that the newly transitioned still have alive germs as well as dead person germs.”

I took the hand sanitiser with a grateful smile. “Thanks, Alexander.”

“You’re welcome,” he said and flashed me a tooth pinging smile.

“Hey, do you know what’s going on with the facilitators?” I asked.

“Some mediums were murdered recently,” Alexander whispered. “I think a facilitator was suspected of somehow being involved so they’re all having refresher training on how not to kill people, as well as being educated on how to spot mediums who might be illegally involved with afterlife citizens. It’s all very hush hush.”

“Really?” I asked.

Alexander nodded. “The GBs were overseeing the training. They were talking to people afterward. Asking questions about processes and procedures. They asked me about whose area the mediums were on.”

I frowned at him. “Didn’t they know? That seems like something they should know.”

“I think they were testing me, but I told them I didn’t know anything about areas. I was only responsible for handing out the forms. They had some questions about that process too, but I made it quite clear that I followed the processes to the letter.”

“If they question you again, Alexander, tell them you want your parole officer present and don’t say anything else until they get there, okay?”

“Do you think they’ll want to question me again?” he asked, looking around as if expecting a hoard of GBs to turn up and drag him off.

“I can’t see why but let’s be safe, okay? Make sure you ask for your parole officer to be present before you answer any of their questions. And if they ask you why you want your parole office there, don’t get into it. Just repeat that you’re entitled to have representation and you’re officially requesting it. Okay?”

“Officially requesting it,” he mumbled while scribbling something down on a piece of paper.

“Do you know who has my old area?”

“Some miserable girl. I’ve not seen her smile once. And she barely speaks. As if a whole sentence would kill her.” Alexander leaned forward again. “Honestly, I know it’s not nice but I was a little happy when it turned out to be her area that all the mediums were dying on. I saw them questioning her with her parole officer yesterday.”

“Do they think she did it?”

“I heard someone say she has a murderous history, so maybe.” Alexander shrugged. “I don’t see what she’d get from it, though. But I’m not a murderer, so I don’t really understand how they think.”

“Do you know her name?” I asked. Surely, it couldn’t be Katie. Surely. Although both Oz and Katie had been extra scowly yesterday when we’d been shopping.

“Katherine Green,” Alexander whispered and then straightened up as his eyes darted over my shoulder at the sound of chatter heading our way.

“Thanks, Alexander.” I held up the sanitiser. “And thank you for this too.”

“You’re welcome, Bridget. Make sure you come back and see me soon,” he said and a flash of vulnerability rippled over his face. “I miss you.”

“I miss you, too.” It was an automatic response but I was a little surprised to find that I meant it. Being dead was ripping down all these sturdy walls I’d erected to keep myself protected from people.

“What’s the what?” Sabrina asked, handing over my chocolate doughnut as she met me out of the reception area and taking the hand sanitiser from me without question.

“Well, Katie’s taken over my area, the GBs interviewed her with Oz yesterday, who neglected to mention that she was once again a suspect in a triple murder. Although I guess it was technically a single murder at the time. And the facilitators are having training at lunchtimes, supervised by the GBs, about how not to murder people and how to spot if a medium is involved with an afterlife citizen.”

“What?” Sabrina caught my hand as I was about to shove the doughnut into my mouth. I was pretty sure there was no drool on my face but I wiped my chin anyway.

“Yep, I know.” I gave her a nod, then shook off her hand. I didn’t think she needed more than that and then demolished the doughnut in fewer bites than was ladylike. I briefly thought about how mortified my mam would be if she saw me and then remembered that she and my dad had gotten remarried. Without telling me. Out of spite I sucked the chocolate from my fingers, with a loud lip smacking noise.

“Did you do that to spite your mum?” Sabrina asked, watching me with a grin.

“Pfft, no. Of course not. That would be petty and pointless,” I said, looking everywhere but at her as I wiped my fingers on the napkin, suddenly grateful for the hand sanitiser. I’d be able to set it up and use it when I got back to Arrivals.

We both tunnelled back to our respective workplaces but before I was even fully solid I could sense the swirling activity. I finished my tunnel slowly to make sure I wasn’t going to end up with someone’s arm sticking through my abdomen.

“Bridget!” Sean dodged through the mass of GBs who were swarming all over the tunnelling room as if he were a linebacker, or quarterback, or some sort of American football player who ran and dodged people.

“What’s going on?” I asked as Sean grabbed my wrist and pulled me through the GB swarm. I didn’t think I’d ever seen a tunnelling room so busy. It was like an airport when all the planes were delayed.

“It’s about the missing files,” Sean hissed. “I reported it. I had to. It’s procedure.”

I placed a hand on his shoulder and dipped my face so I could look into his eyes. “You did the right thing, Sean. It’s not your fault they are missing.”

“I didn’t know this would happen. I thought we’d be audited.” Sean’s head was on a swivel as he spoke. It was almost like a scene from The Exorcist the way it kept turning.

I caught his head in my hands to keep it still. “Sean, don’t worry, okay? You didn’t steal the files. You didn’t misplace the files. You explained the rules clearly to me. I can confidently attest that to anyone who asks. You are great at your job. Everything will be okay. Okay?”

Sean exhaled a long breath. “Okay.”

Officer Fredrickson came to stand beside us. “Mr Andrews?”

Sean cowered back. “Yes?”

Fredrickson placed his hand on Sean’s shoulder and tunnelled him before I could do anything about it. Sean screamed my name as he disappeared. The panic in his voice made my stomach drop.

“It’s unfortunate the company you’ve been keeping of late, Ms Sway,” Officer Leonard said from behind me.

“Sean didn’t do anything!” I exclaimed. I absolutely did not screech it. And definitely not in his face.

Officer Leonard inclined his head. “Perhaps not. Perhaps your friend who works on reception hasn’t done anything either.”

“Alexander? He’s no more involved in this than Sean is,” I said, trying to rein my screech in.

Officer Leonard nodded. “Maybe your friend, the coordinator hasn’t done anything either.”

“Sabrina? What is wrong with you? These people haven’t done anything.”

“Haven’t they?” Officer Leonard frowned at me. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.” I bit the word off.

“It looks to me as if your friend on reception concocted some murderous scheme and both the induction officer and the coordinator helped him by hiding or doctoring files.”

“That’s ridiculous. And completely untrue. And you know it.”

“Well, regardless of what you believe I know, all three will be prosecuted by the end of the day unless an alternative culprit is identified.” Officer Leonard winked at me. “Looks like you’re on your own, Ms Sway.”

Chapter Sixteen

“Parole Officer Salier is busy.” The constable didn’t look up from what I was sure was a very dull procedural manual.

“How do you know he’s busy?” I asked. “You haven’t checked anything.”

“He’s in an interrogation.” The constable remained focused on the manual.

“Well, pull him out of the interrogation.”

“Can’t. Come back later.”

“Later when?”

The constable flipped a page but still didn’t look at me. “Later.”

“I want to speak to your supervisor.” I reached over the counter and closed the manual. “Now.”

The constable’s head jerked up. He looked me over and then leaned back in his chair and folded his arms. “Can’t.”

“Is he in an interrogation too?”

“Bingo.”

“Bridget?” Greg, an induction supervisor, walked into the police reception area. “What are you doing here? You should be at work.”

“I needed to speak to my parole officer.” I wasn’t all that familiar with Greg. I’d only met him twice, but I was happy to take help where I could find it.

The constable pointed to me but spoke to Greg. “Get her out of here or I’m going to charge her with wasting police time.”

I rounded on the constable. “I’m sorry. Who is wasting whose time?”

“You’re wasting my time.” The constable looked to Greg again. “Last chance.”

“Come on, Bridget. We can check back in later.” Greg put an arm around my shoulders and shuffled me toward the tunnelling room.

“But I need to speak to my parole officer.” I shook off Greg’s hold and I walked over to the counter. I jabbed the top with my finger. “Now!”

The constable stood and grabbed a notebook and a pen “That’s it. I’m charging you.”

Greg rushed over to me. “No, there’s no need. We’re leaving.”

“Do not try and drag me out again,” I warned Greg.

“Getting yourself arrested isn’t going to help anyone here,” Greg whispered. “And we’re short-staffed at Arrivals. Sean said he thought you were going to be an amazing inductioneer because you cared about people. Show me that he was right about you.”

I narrowed my eyes at him. “That was a low blow.”

“Whatever works,” Greg said with a shrug.

I pointed at the constable. “I’ll be back.”

“Look forward to it,” he said and gave me a mock salute.

I made a disgusted noise and followed Greg out of the reception area and into the tunnelling room. We landed at Arrivals and he ushered me through the GB mayhem.

“You’ll need to take the group that Sean was assigned,” Greg said, directing us toward the room Sean and I had previously occupied with Jeremy’s group.

“On my own?”

He nodded. “Yep.”

I stalled at the door. “I’m not sure that I can.”

“You’ll have to.” Greg scanned his magnetic card over the door lock. “With Sean gone and Christina being questioned about losing her keys—”

“Someone lost their keys?” I asked.

“Yesterday. At least that’s the last time she remembers having them,” Greg said and tugged on his own set of keys around his neck. “It’s policy to keep them either around your neck or attached to your trousers but, evidently, that isn’t a secure enough practice and now with the GBs dragging anyone and everyone in for questioning, we’re short-staffed. Please remember, how you behave is a direct reflection on Sean’s teaching skills. In you go.” Greg opened the door, placed a magnetic door lock card in my hand and all but shoved me inside.

I glanced around the group of newly transitioned I was supposed to induct. On my own. While worrying about everyone. But I could do this. I’d been through it recently myself. I pushed my shoulders back and strode to the front of the room with a confidence I didn’t feel.

“Hi, everyone. My name’s Bridget and I’ll be your induction officer today. Let’s start by filling in some forms. Yay. Forms.” It wasn’t anything near as peppy as Sean but I was trying. Which was the important thing, right? And I’d said “yay” so that had to count for something.

“Hey. I know you,” a voice said as I started to make my way around the room, handing out the stack of forms and pens. The speaker helpfully waved at me. “Over here.”

He looked familiar but it took me a second to recognise him. “It’s George, right? Madame Zorina’s husband?”

“Do you call her that all the time?” He laughed. Well, didn’t he seem in better spirits.

“Yes. Do you remember what happened to you?” I asked as I sped up my form distributing to get to his desk. And yes, I knew if he’d been murdered the chances were he wouldn’t remember and, if he did, he would lose his mind. But I had to ask.

“How I died, you mean? I was … I …” He shook his head and suddenly his eyes became unfocused as he stared at the far wall. Okay, that was not happening. He was not losing his mind on my watch, even if it was slightly my fault.

“Hey!” I tapped the back of his hand sharply three times. It brought some life back to his face. “Do you know why mediums are getting murdered?”

“Not really,” he said, his eyes focusing on me again.

“Okay. ‘Not really’ implies that you know something, so how about you tell me what that something is?”

“What are you going to do for me in return?” he asked, leaning back in his chair and folding his arms.

“Do you remember the guy who drove the bus?” I asked and his face twitched. Yeah, he remembered Charon. “Well, if you don’t tell me what you know I’m going to call him back so he can make you tell me what you know. Choice is yours.”

He hesitated then sighed. “Fine. What do you want to know?”

“Do you know why Jeremy was at the department store the day he was murdered?” I asked and he hesitated again. I stepped toward the door. “I’ll get Charon, I swear.”

“Jeremy had a contact. I don’t know who but I think he was meeting them at the store. Eric and Mal knew that Jeremy was gaming the system and they wanted to find out how. I guess they figured they might be able to flip Jeremy’s source or find out how he was doing it so they could do something similar. They followed him to the store. I overheard them talking about it and wanted in on it so I followed them. I—”

I held up my hand for him to stop. I wasn’t Sabrina. I couldn’t hold my questions until the end. “How did they know he was meeting his source at the store? How did they know he was gaming the system? How did you know about this? And how do you know they knew? How—just—in general?”

George shrugged. “I don’t think they did know what was happening at the store but he had a big show the night after, so I think they probably assumed he was meeting someone there. It was late and the store was closed. He wasn’t going shopping, was he?”

“But how did they know he was there?” This wasn’t adding all the way up.

“They’d had someone following him about for about two months so they knew this was out of the ordinary for him. I reckon the guy they had following called them to let them know something was up and they hustled to get there and spied on him.”

Who knew the psychic game could be so sneaky? “And how do you know all this?”

“This, like everything in life, is about information. The person who has the most information is the winner.” He delivered the line with the practised charm of a con man. In those two sentences I could see what Madame Zorina had originally seen in him and why she’d left him. At least, I assumed she’d left him.

I nodded. “That’s nice. How about you answer my question?”

“I did. I guess it wasn’t the answer you wanted,” he said with a grin.

“It wasn’t an answer, it was a response. Answer the actual question.” I had a brief flashback to a conversation I’d had with Oz that had gone remarkably similar. Only I’d been answering like George. I wondered if I’d come off as much a douche as he had. I shook my head to myself. That was unlikely. But I was beginning to see why Oz was always so frustrated with me.

“I bribed one of Mal’s assistants. They didn’t know what exactly was going on. They remembered he’d met with this guy. So I looked the guy up, found out he was a private investigator and told him I’d pay him to share the info with me. He’d already done the work so it was money for nothing. He told me they were going to the department store. So I followed them.”

“And what did you see when you got there?”

He shook his head. “I got there late and I came in the back way so I didn’t see whoever Jeremy was meeting. I heard footsteps coming down the stairs so I hid. Mal and Eric scurried past me in a panic. Talking about how they’d seen the Grim Reaper or something stupid. That was the last time I saw them.”

Before I could press him for more details the magnetic door lock flicked open and a GB walked in. The one who’d stolen Sean earlier. Fredrickson. Didn’t he get about?

“Ah, Wallace. Finally.” George slapped a hand on the stack on forms in front of him. “You had me worried for a moment.”

I narrowed my eyes at the GB. So Wallace was a general code name for all GBs when speaking to livies? Well, wasn’t Sabrina going to be super smug when she found that out. Well, she would be if I could get her out of being sentenced to an infinity in prison.

“What are you doing?” Fredrickson asked me as I straightened up.

“Inducting the newly transitioned.” I gestured around the room. “Obviously. What are you doing?”

“Stop talking to him.” Fredrickson commanded me and clicked his fingers at George. “Let’s go.”

“Whoa, whoa. I can’t let you take him,” I said. And it wasn’t because I hadn’t finished pumping him for information. But when Officer Leonard had taken Jeremy he’d given Sean forms to process the transfer. I had no idea what forms were needed but I definitely needed something.

“I can and I am.” Fredrickson motioned for George to follow.

“Show me the paperwork or he’s not going anywhere.” I put my hand on George’s shoulder and pushed him back down in his seat, probably harder than necessary since he grunted when he hit the chair.

Fredrickson narrowed his eyes at me. I very much had the impression he was trying to stare me down. Boy, was he messing with the wrong girl today. Or, really, any day. I folded my arms and stared right back.

“You know you could rock, paper and scissors for me,” George said, looking between us. “I’m not particularly partial to redheads but I’d make an exception in your case.”

Slowly, I turned my glare on George. He grinned at me, then nodded in the direction of Fredrickson. The GB was holding out several sheets of folded paper.

“It’s all in order. I need you to sign the last page.”

I took the papers and flipped through them. I was fairly sure it was the same document that Officer Leonard had given Sean when he’d taken Jeremy. “Why didn’t you give these to me straightaway?”

“Didn’t feel like it. Sign the last page so I can go,” Fredrickson said.

“Okay.” I sat down and started reading the forms he’d handed me.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m reading it before I sign it.”

“Why?”

I shrugged. “I don’t trust you.”

“I need to get him back,” the GB said.

I nodded. “Yeah, well, that sounds like a whole lot of your problem.”

∞

“You’re a little late, Bridget. Is everything okay?” Eleanor called from the doorway of the fort as I came barrelling toward her. She glanced around. “Where’s Sabrina?”

The induction group had been quiet after George had left and it had given me nothing but hours to think. I’d come up with several plans but most of them had devolved into scenarios that involved wearing a patent leather catsuit, diamonds and James Bond villain type deaths for everyone. So by the time I’d finished with my group I was feeling somewhat emotionally agitated.

I’d gone back to the police station to talk to Oz, but the constable still wouldn’t let me speak to him. Once again he’d threatened to arrest me and in that moment I realised there were three people I knew I would always be able to count on in my afterlife. Oz was in an interrogation. Sabrina was being interrogated. That left the third. And I was betting she’d be able to pull off a catsuit with me if it came to it.

“Eleanor, I need your help.”

“Anything, Bridget.”

“Officer Leonard has arrested everyone. He’s going to blame them for murders they didn’t commit. I need to find some evidence to point toward the real killer. I can’t do that, though, because I promised my parole officer I wouldn’t get involved in this stuff and the stupid constable won’t let me speak to him.”

Eleanor stepped out of the doorway and led me a small distance across the grass. “Did you say the GBs have arrested everyone? Who have they arrested?”

“All of my friends. Sabrina, Sean and Alexander for sure. Other people, too, maybe. I don’t know.”

“If they’re innocent they’ll be fine. Not even the GBs can prosecute people without evidence.”

I shook my head. “Officer Leonard told me they’re going to prosecute them tonight. We’ve got until midnight to prove it wasn’t them.”

“If the GBs think they’re guilty then they must have a reason for it, although that does seem extraordinarily fast,” Eleanor admitted. “But they can’t prosecute people without evidence.”

“They have no evidence, Eleanor. I promise they don’t. Officer Leonard is trying to drag me into this for some reason.”

“What if we call your parole officer? Surely, he’ll be able to get to the bottom of this.” Eleanor glanced over her shoulder at the doors to the fort and nudged me a little further away. I assumed so that the other group members wouldn’t hear the drama. “Did you say someone wouldn’t let you talk to him?”

“The GBs have taken one of my housemates into custody and the constable wouldn’t get him.”

“The constable denied you access to your parole officer?” Eleanor asked, a frown marring her features.

“Yes. Twice.”

“Is there any way you could’ve misunderstood?”

I shook my head so hard my ponytail touched each shoulder. “Not even slightly. And then he threatened to arrest me. Also twice.”

Eleanor hesitated. “Bridget, if the GBs think—”

“Eleanor. They didn’t do it. I know they didn’t. And they’re my friends. You know how hard I’ve found this and that it’s not easy for me to make these connections. But now, by being my friends, I feel like I’ve dragged them into this and I have to help them. I don’t want to break my promise to Oz but I can’t not help them.”

“Okay, don’t get upset.” Eleanor pulled me in for a quick hug and wiped a tear from my cheek that I didn’t even know had fallen. “We’ll sort this out, you and me. Okay?”

I nodded and wiped my face. This crying thing business was getting annoying. I’d have put it down to my period but since I didn’t have them anymore I was quite clearly becoming an emotional wreck. At least I’d foregone the eyeliner.

Eleanor strode across the grass and poked her head into the hall. “I’ll be back in two ticks. Please form a circle and begin talking about your most useful ghosting tip. Debbie, will you start, please?”

The scraping of chairs on the floors signalled that people were doing what she asked. She came back outside and took my hand. “Let’s get you to your parole officer. He’ll be able to sort this out.”

Eleanor tunnelled us to the police station. Still holding my hand, she marched out of the tunnelling room and straight to the reception desk.

The policeman at the desk looked up when he saw us approach. “Back again?”

“I demand that you get Parole Officer Salier out here, right this instant.” Eleanor’s Southern belle accent deepened her voice and made the authoritative tone much sharper.

The constable checked something in front of him. “I’m afraid I can’t do that, ma’am, he’s in an interrogation.”

“Well, you better find a way to do it. And quick.” Eleanor tapped the top of the reception desk to punctuate her demand.

“Ma’am, I can’t—”

“Stop telling me what you can’t do, young man, and find me a solution. I have another of his wards out here and we both know that you cannot prohibit access of a ward to their parole officer under any circumstances. So, I suggest you get him out here now and I’ll only file a regular grievance rather than a compounded one in which I cite that said ward came in and asked to speak to her parole officer twice and was turned away both times. Do you want me to do that, Constable?”

The constable glowered over Eleanor’s shoulder at me and pushed to his feet. “I’ll go and try to get hold of him.”

“Don’t try, Constable, do it.” Eleanor squared her shoulders. “Or the consequences will be so much worse than a compound grievance.”

The constable stalked sullenly off in the direction of the interrogation rooms. Eleanor turned to find me staring at her. I wasn’t sure whether to be awed or terrified.

“That was amazing.”

“You simply need to explain the situation and people will be happy to help.” Eleanor gave me a demure smile.

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Bridget? Is everything okay?” Oz called as he jogged over to us a couple of minutes later, panic radiating off him. He came to a halt in front of me and grabbed me by my upper arms to keep me still while he checked me over, not even waiting to hear my response. I noticed he never seemed to do that to anyone else. But then again, none of his other wards continually had someone trying to murder them.

“I’m fine. I needed to talk to you, the whistle wasn’t working and the constable wouldn’t get you when I asked, so Eleanor brought me here.”

“Thank you, Eleanor, I’m incredibly grateful that you’re looking out for Bridget.”

“It’s my pleasure.” Eleanor blushed slightly at the level of gratitude in Oz’s voice. “Bridget has made such progress in the past few weeks. She is such a compassionate girl. I’m proud to say I know her. I like to think she’s one of my successes. I won’t mark her as absent.” Eleanor turned to me. “You get this murder business sorted out. The group will be excited to hear about it tomorrow night. From you and Sabrina.”

“Thank you, Eleanor.” I reached out and gave her a hug before she left.

Oz placed his hand on my lower back and guided me to the far corner of the reception. “What’s going on?”

“Are you here with Katie?” I asked.

Oz shook his head. “Bridget—”

“This isn’t about the fact she was questioned about the murders and you didn’t tell me or us,” I said.

“Then what’s this about?”

“It’s about the GBs arresting my friends and backing me into a corner where I have to solve the medium murders to set them free.”

Everything about Oz’s posture became rigid. “What do you mean? Who did they arrest? Why would you have to solve it?”

“Alexander and Sean. Alexander is—”

“I know who they are. When will you learn that there’s nothing that you do, no friends you have, that I don’t know about?”

“Well, that’s incredibly creepy.”

“And you’re incredibly hard work,” he countered.

“They arrested Sabrina too. And Officer Leonard made a comment about how I was all on my own. And since you were cooped up with Katie all afternoon and Sabrina had been arrested it felt true.” I waited for Oz to reassure me that there was nothing to worry about. That I was overreacting. He didn’t, so I carried on. “So, instead of going off and trying to deal with this on my own I told Eleanor about it and she brought me here.”

“Okay,” Oz said and threw a glance at the constable at the desk. “We’ll call their bluff. We won’t do anything and wait until they’re released.”

“Officer Leonard said they were going to be prosecuted tonight.”

“Bridget, not even the GBs can prosecute people without evidence. They can hold them indefinitely but not prosecute them.”

“Well, that’s what he said.”

“He can’t, so how about we wait and see?”

I took a step back. “This is your solution? Wait and see?”

“The only other option is that you get yourself into trouble and now you’ve come to me I can’t—I won’t—let you do that. Even if I have to lock you in the house.”

“You won’t let me?”

“No, I won’t. As your parole officer, your welfare is my first concern.”

“Are they going to pin these murders on Katie?”

“I don’t know what they’re doing. They keep asking the same questions.” Oz glanced back in the direction he’d come from. He paused. “All afternoon. Almost like they’re killing time.”

“Okay, well, I don’t really care about that but I do care about my friends. I’m not willing to wait and call their bluff.” I lowered my voice when I noticed the constable was eavesdropping on our conversation. “What if they’re not bluffing? I have no clue what ghost prison looks like but I am sure Alexander won’t survive it. I don’t think Sean would either.”

Oz sighed heavily as he stared at me and then moved to the desk. “Hey, I need to take my ward home but I need another parole officer to sit in with my other ward. Can you contact Shirley Penthalagen for me?”

“Unfortunately, Officer Salier, Officer Penthalagen would be unable to help. Can I call someone else for you?”

“Yes, can you contact either Pat Keele or Simon Paulson for me then please?”

The constable’s frown deepened. “I believe they’re both engaged.”

“Then the interrogation will have to remain paused until I return.” Oz turned away from the desk and motioned to me. He was wearing an expression that brooked no argument. I followed him back to the tunnelling room. We appeared in the garden of our house. “Both Alexander and Sean have their parole officers with them. As does Sabrina. They’re going to be fine. So, now, we need to worry about you.”

“You don’t know that there going to be fine. You’re assuming it.”

Oz shook his head. “You’re not listening to me. They have no evidence—”

“You mean like when they pinned those murders on Katie?”

“Are we going to go through this again?”

“Yes. We are.”

“Bridget, this isn’t the same thing.”

“This is exactly the same thing.”

“Bridget.” Oz said my name as though if he said it enough I would turn into the perfect ward. “Your options are to try and help and get yourself in trouble or to call their bluff.”

“Look. I abided by your rules. I came to you because I made you a promise. I wanted to keep it because I want to stay here. This is my home. I’ve made friends. But I won’t stand here and do nothing on the off chance the GBs are bluffing. I know they aren’t your wards but I’m your ward. You’re responsible for me and my happiness, right? And, if this is a toss-up between living here and letting my friends go to jail for something they didn’t do or being reassigned to a new parole officer and only having supervised visits with my housemates, then I’m going to choose the latter because it’s the right thing to do. You know it’s the right thing to do. And I don’t want to do it on my own but I will if I have to. So I’m asking for you to help me prove their innocence. I know what happened to Katie weighs on you. Do you want three other prison sentences weighing on you too?”

Oz threw up his hands, his voice was heavy in frustration. “Bridget, there’s no reason to believe that they’ll prosecute them.”

“And how are you going to feel if they do prosecute them? Because if I trust you now and you’re wrong I won’t forgive you.”

“I’m not wrong.”

I enunciated clearly to make sure Oz understood. “I will never forgive you.”

“Maybe not, but you’ll be safe.”

“You’re not going to help me?”

“No.”

I squared my shoulders. “Okay.”

“Okay what?” Oz asked.

“Okay I’ll come and get my stuff later.” I rolled my shoulders back and tried to focus on where I should tunnel to. I was still standing there a full minute later.

Oz frowned at me. “What are you doing?”

I shook my head. “I don’t know. I don’t know what to do.”

Oz stared at me for an excruciatingly long moment. Then he exhaled a heavy sigh and rubbed his face with one hand. “Okay. Let’s make a plan.”

Chapter Seventeen

“This is a terrible plan,” Oz mumbled.

“Is he always like this?” Charon asked, his attention roving over Oz.

“He’s not used to rule breaking,” I whispered to Charon.

“You shouldn’t be used to rule breaking,” Oz hissed behind me.

“He does not know you at all, does he, my little Bridget?” Charon asked, arching an eyebrow at Oz, and I was pretty sure there was a proprietary tone to Charon’s usual endearment.

“I know her just fine,” Oz countered. “I wasn’t saying that she wasn’t familiar with rule breaking, only that she shouldn’t be.”

Charon looked Oz over again but spoke to me. “I feel as though he’s blaming me.”

“Was that the door?” I whispered, trying to get them both to focus on the task in hand before they resorted to biting and hair pulling.

After a long back and forth with Oz, we’d decided plan A would be to check The Fates room for George’s and Madame Zorina’s files since it was an easy base to cover—in terms of action, not consequences—and plan B would be to wait the GBs out. I’d argued heavily that the GB bluff calling should be plan C but Oz made it plain that he’d only agree to the catastrophic rule breaking of plan A on the premise that everything else about this situation, post plan A, would be done his way. It wasn’t exactly democratic, but it was a step in the right direction so I took it.

“Did they both leave?” Charon asked me of the two people who’d been in the room when Charon had first tunnelled us in.

I put two fingers on each temple and closed my eyes. “Yes. The taller of the two, wearing odd socks and a gold watch, needed to get back because his wife was cooking macaroni and cheese and when he’s late she gives his portion to their Pomeranian called Buster.”

“My little Bridget, you are full of surprising talents,” Charon cooed as though he were impressed. It was really a pretty good comeback because it left me nowhere to go.

“Shut up. Go and check the files.” I waved him off along the aisle. It would be easier for him to check since he could pull himself onto the next plane of the afterlife, which meant no one on the ghost plane could see him.

Charon folded his arms and leaned back on the cabinets. “I’m just your lift. You go and check.”

“But my eyes will disintegrate,” I said.

Charon blinked slowly. “How?”

“From the—” I waved my hand at the cabinets in explanation. “But since you’re you I figured you’d be okay.”

“What’s she talking about?” Charon asked Oz.

“It’s a deterrent to prevent people from snooping through the files,” Oz explained.

Charon stared at me. “You believe that there is something in every drawer that would know if you looked in a file and disintegrate your eyeballs?” Charon looked me over as if he were re-evaluating my intelligence.

“Rationally, no. But rationally I also wouldn’t have believed someone if they told me that when I died I’d ride around on a tourist bus, have to live with other ghosts, have a job and a parole officer.”

Charon nodded at me. “Touché.”

“So is there something that is going to laser beam my eyeballs to dust?” I asked.

Charon shrugged. “Who knows?”

“Helpful. Thank you.” I nodded at him, took a step to go a-file hunting and then stopped.

“What now?” Charon asked.

“I’ve seen a flaw in my plan.”

“Really? Only one. And only now?” Oz mumbled.

“Is he always like this?” Charon repeated. “How do you ever have any fun?”

“Bridget, what’s the problem?” Oz asked, ignoring Charon.

I winced. “I don’t know Madame Zorina’s last name. Her maiden name. Or would her file be under her married name? Not that I know either.”

“I know her maiden name,” Oz said. “And her married name.”

“How do you know it?” I asked.

Oz shook his head. “How many times? Stay here while I check.”

“I can check. I know the filing system better,” I said.

Oz gave me a flat look. “Pretty sure I know how the alphabet works, Bridget. Stay here and keep out of trouble.”

“I don’t think he likes me,” Charon said, frowning at Oz’s back as he jogged silently along the back spine aisle. “He likes you, though.”

“Everybody likes me. I’m an incredibly likeable girl.”

Charon laughed, a light tinkling noise filled the air. Oz paused and turned back to look at us, holding his arms out to the sides as if asking us what we were doing before resuming his mission.

“He definitely doesn’t like me,” Charon said.

“I think it’s more that he doesn’t like that I know someone who can break into a restricted filing room and that they’d be willing to do it for me and that he has no control over you.”

“Are you going to stand around and let him have all the fun?” Charon asked. “Surely, there is someone’s file you want to check. Who knows when you’ll get a chance again?”

“Jeremy’s is gone. As are Magnificent Malcolm’s and Allseeing Eric’s.” I shrugged. “Oz is checking Madame Zorina’s and George’s files. There’s no one else.”

“Oh, no, I didn’t mean about the murders.” Charon waved me off as if they weren’t important. “Isn’t there anyone you want to snoop on?”

“No.”

“Not even your own file? Although that’s your life, so I suppose you know about that. Maybe your friends? The friend that lost my passenger, for example,” Charon asked.

“Why would I want to look in Sabrina’s file?” I asked.

He shrugged. “Why wouldn’t you?”

“My eyes won’t disintegrate?”

Charon shrugged. “As a good friend. Isn’t it worth taking the chance?”

“What does that mean?” I asked but Charon only shrugged again in response.

I backed away from him and scurried along the spine of the aisles. I peeked around the corner of the aisle Oz had gone down. He was bent over rooting through a drawer. Oz paused as if he felt my eyes on him and I ducked back behind the cabinet. I counted to ten and peeked around the corner again. He’d gone back to rooting around in the drawer. His eyes looked perfectly fine and undisintegrated. The eyeball disintegrator must be on a break.

I darted across the aisle to the next row of cabinets. Peeked around the corner. It was empty. I tiptoed across to the next one and had a moment to be thankful that I hadn’t worn my awesome but loud heels. I was about to sneak down the aisle and find Sabrina’s file when I felt someone behind me. I knew it was Oz. He smelled like soap powder and sunshine.

“What are you doing?” he whispered, his breath warm on the back of my neck. I hated it when he did stuff like that. It always made me think of rude things. Or not rude things, but inappropriate things. Or not really inappropriate but technically illegal things in terms of afterlife behaviour with your parole officer.

“I was—” I cut the lie off. He was already breaking into a restricted file room. There was really no point in lying now. “I was going to check Sabrina’s file.”

“Why?”

“Charon said something.”

Before he could question me further the door creaked as it opened. Oz grabbed my hand and tugged me back to where Charon was waiting.

“You ready?” Charon called loudly across the small distance as we approached.

“Are you talking to me?” a female voice called across the room.

“You’re a terrible burglar,” I hissed at a quietly laughing Charon.

“Hello?” the voice called again.

Charon placed a hand on my shoulder and his other on Oz’s. And before I even realised it we were back in our garden.

“Now, if neither of you mind, I’m going to get back to work,” Charon announced and abandoned us before I could even thank him.

“I don’t like him.” Oz scowled at the space where Charon had been standing. “I don’t think he’s a good influence on you.”

I shrugged. “He buys me ice cream.”

“He buys it?”

“Well, no, he steals it but we steal everything now so—” I cut myself off with a shrug. “What did you find out? Since we’re back, I’m assuming something helpful.”

“I’m not sure if it’s helpful. But it’s something.”

“What?”

“George’s file was gone but Madame Zorina’s was there. Janice was the one who attacked her. Apparently, your friend was milking Olive’s family for everything they had.”

I shook my head. “When was this? That’s not right.”

“Bridget—”

“That’s not who Madame Zorina is. She wouldn’t do that.”

“Just because you know her doesn’t mean she’s not capable of doing bad things,” Oz said on a sigh. “There was a note on the file to cross reference with the four other dead mediums, the implication being that Janice was involved with their murders too somehow.”

I frowned at him. “Don’t you think it’s weird that Janice, if it was Janice, stole all the files except that one?”

“Maybe she missed it. But how would Janice know to be in the exact right place at the right time to be able to sneak into that room when the door was unlocked?”

I grabbed Oz’s arm. “She was in Arrivals the day before Sean and I noticed the files were missing. One of the other induction leaders lost their keys that day but didn’t realise until the day after. And Janice was looking shifty when I saw her.”

“If you’re saying she stole them the day before then who came in when you were in there? They didn’t use keys, right?”

“Maybe that was nothing. Maybe whoever came in didn’t hear me call out and I just assumed it was them who stole the files. Or maybe it was Treble.”

Oz paused to stare at me. “We’re accusing a GB now?”

“I really don’t like him.”

“So who is it? Janice, who all the evidence points to, or Treble?”

“Or maybe they’re in it together?” I suggested. “Janice attacked Madame Zorina without Treble knowing, so when Treble was stealing the files he didn’t know he needed that one too. But what would Treble gain from it? Oh! I heard some GBs talking about them being understaffed. They said someone had been talking about needing more mediums, but I didn’t catch who it was.”

Oz hesitated. “Okay, well, now we have motives for three people. Olive committed the murders and Janice is covering up for her. Or Janice is killing them on Olive’s behalf. Or Treble wanting more mediums to aid the GBs and framing Janice.”

“But the file specifically implicates Janice in the attack on Madame Zorina, right?” I swirled my finger around us. “I notice that you’re not rushing to the police station to inform them.”

“This feels wrong.”

“Just because you know her doesn’t mean she’s not capable of doing bad things,” I said. He gave me a flat stare and I held up my hands. “Hey, I’m alright with throwing any of those three to the wolves/GBs for tonight if it means getting everyone else out. We can look about helping them once everyone I care about is free.”

Oz’s lips flattened into a line. “That’s a pretty selfish attitude.”

“She lodged a complaint against me when I was trying to be nice to her ward. She’s tried to get me into trouble with the GBs several times. I’m happy for her to spend some time with them. See how she likes it.” I tossed my head and the ends of my ponytail slid over my shoulder. “I’d call that karma.”

“And don’t think I didn’t notice the whole ‘we’ll investigate afterward’.”

“We don’t have to. Maybe she’s in it on her own and forgot she tried to murder Madame Zorina.”

“Yeah, I can see how that could slip someone’s mind.” Oz gestured between us. “Is this what you do with Sabrina?”

“Pretty much.” I looked around the garden to make sure no one was there to overhear and lowered my voice. “It’s a little bit fun, right?”

Oz enunciated oh-so-clearly. “No.”

“I think the fact that you overstressed it means the opposite. So what are you going to tell the GBs?”

“I don’t know. I’ll figure something out.” He reached for my hand and pulled me toward the house. “I want you to stay here until I get back. And when your housemates get back, sit them all in the lounge together and put a film on, okay?”

I nodded. “Okay.”

“And I mean all of your housemates,” Oz stressed. “Anna and Katie, too. If I can get her released I’ll need to stay and fill out some paperwork, so she might come back on her own.”

“It’s her that doesn’t speak to us,” I said a little too defensively.

“Because you’ve all made her feel so welcome.” Oz opened the kitchen door and ushered me inside.

“I’ve already said I’ll be nice to her.”

“Yes, I heard you say it. Lock this door after me.”

“Why?”

“Let’s try and keep you out of trouble for a bit, okay?”

I mumbled something about him being dictatorial and oppressive, but I closed and bolted the door—not really seeing how a deadbolt was going to keep me out of trouble but I figured it was best not to point that out.

“Behave,” Oz mouthed and pointed at me through the window on the door.

I held my hands out and gestured around me, as if to ask how I could possibly get into any trouble locked inside the house. When he disappeared I filled the kettle and, while waiting for it to boil, I rooted through the cupboards for something good to eat. I felt like I’d called in sick to school. I probably should’ve gone back and finished off the last ten minutes of my GA meeting but it wouldn’t have been worth it. I probably should’ve let Eleanor know I was okay, though.

“A-ha!” After several minutes of hunting I finally found a packet of chocolate chip digestives hidden beneath several packets of rice cakes. I ignored the fact Anna had stuck a huge label on them declaring, in thick black marker, they were hers, and ripped them open. I’d eaten two before the kettle had even boiled. I felt that was okay since I’d had an eventful night and needed the sugar. And, since Oz would tell the GBs and they would release everyone, I’d totally saved the day. I absolutely deserved some biscuits.

I heard something at the door and turned. Not expecting to see anyone—more out of reflex.

Katie’s palm was pressed to the glass, supporting herself as she peered into the kitchen. She stared at me. I stared back. Neither of us moved. I suddenly felt like I wasn’t totally sure Janice and/or Treble and/or Olive hadn’t had help with their murdering. She rattled the door handle while her other palm remained on the window. All I could think was that my mam would’ve rapped my knuckles if I’d put my hands on the clean windows like that.

Hesitantly, I walked across the kitchen and reached for the door handle. She wasn’t a killer, right? And I was still holding the kettle in one hand. If she tried her murdering luck with me I could always bash her over the head with it and tunnel to safety. I unbolted the door and held it open. She walked through without saying anything.

“No, Katie, you’re so welcome. No one did highly illegal things to get you out of the evil GBs’ clutches. Come right in and carry on your life by not speaking to us.”

“Gee, thank you so much, the amazing and all-powerful Bridget. Hold still while I get on my knees and worship you.” Her voice wasn’t anywhere near as whiny as I’d expected. It sounded alarmingly normal. Alarmingly not like a crazy person at all.

“Okay,” I said and gave her a one-shoulder shrug, trying not to be freaked out that she’d spoken to me. I closed the door and bolted it with the kettle still in my hand. I looked back across the kitchen to see her heading for the stairs. “You have to stay down here. We’re going to watch a film,” I called after her but she ignored me. So I did what any agitated, self-respecting, undervalued person would do. I grabbed an orange from the fruit bowl and threw it at the door in front of her. At least I was aiming for the door but I was right-handed and that was the hand holding the kettle. So I threw it with my left. It hit her in the middle of her back. She stopped walking and turned oh-so-slowly around to face me. It was like a super creepy scene from a horror film.

“I’m really sorry. I was aiming for the door. I’m right-handed.” I picked up the packet of biscuits and offered her one, still not putting the kettle down. Katie angled her head to read Anna’s writing and then looked up at me. I shrugged.

She walked back over, took the packet from me and then placed a cup next to mine on the counter.

“Oh, does that mean you want tea?” I asked. “Why does everyone think I’ll just make them tea?”

“Because you freak out when anyone even goes near the kettle,” Katie said, settling at the breakfast bar with the biscuits.

“Is it my fault no one ever taught any of you how to make a cup of tea? I mean, seriously? Who puts the milk in first? It’s just not right.” I put the kettle down on its base and flipped it back to boil. “Why don’t you speak?”

“Don’t have anything to say to any of you.”

“Well, you could start with an apology for nearly murdering Petal,” I suggested. “That would go a long way.”

“I wasn’t trying to murder her,” Katie snapped at me.

“Well, your hands around her neck would suggest otherwise.”

“You weren’t there.”

“No, but I have had someone try to strangle me once, so I feel I can understand the motivation behind it.”

“To get you to shut up?”

“No, I slapped him because I thought he was dead and he woke up and thought I was trying to kill him so he tried to strangle me. But that’s all by the by,” I said and turned my back on her to pour the water into the mugs. I was tempted to twist sideways so I could keep an eye on her but it seemed a little excessive. “I found it really hard when I first got here. I used to hide in my room all night and they’d still come in and pester me. You have to accept that you’re dead now and life is different. And if you apologise to—”

Something heavy hit something solid with a muted bang. I spun around, teaspoon raised and ready for battle. Katie looked over at me. From my teaspoon to my face.

“Something wrong?” she asked, and there was definite glee in her voice for having made me jump.

Anna’s biscuits had been shoved into a freezer bag and there was a valley down the centre where Katie had hit them with a rolling pin.

“Little bit passive aggressive, don’t you think?” I asked, jabbing my teaspoon in her direction and twisting sideways so I could keep an eye on her while fishing the tea bags out of our mugs. So much for extending trust.

“It’s a base for a cheesecake,” Katie said and bashed the biscuits again, three times in quick succession.

I nodded. “That’s nice. I’m going to leave your tea here so you don’t accidentally knock it off with your biscuit bashing.” I moved to stand between the door and the table. I wasn’t wholly happy about being alone with Katie as she swung a rolling pin manically around the kitchen.

“I like to bake. So what?” she said and then smashed the rolling pin into the biscuits again.

“Lord knows I’m all for cheesecake but don’t you think it’s a bit weird to randomly decide to bake one? Do we even have ingredients?” I reached over to open the fridge door. I briefly took my eyes from her to scan inside it. “We don’t even have—”

The words died in my throat as I turned back and saw Katie bearing down on me. Rolling pin raised and crazed expression on her face.

Chapter Eighteen

I used the only weapon I had to hand. My tea. I threw the contents of my cup at her. She stumbled but quickly reversed course, the hot tea splashing at her feet.

“What the hell!” she screeched. Not willing to hear any excuses about how she liked mashed brains in her cheesecake, I lunged for the back door, threw it open and dived forward. Only to find my escape blocked by a figure in black.

Officer Leonard’s attention jumped behind me. He pulled me to him and bent down to cover me. I felt a draft as the rolling pin flew over our heads.

“Did I come at a bad time?” Officer Leonard asked me as we straightened up, both of us keeping our attention on Katie.

“Get out of my house,” Katie yelled in our direction.

“This is my house too,” I yelled back. “And I feel I made a valid point about the cheesecake. You can’t randomly start bashing biscuits and assume the ingredients will magically be there. There’s no need to freak out over it.”

“Not you. Him!” Katie picked up a plate and raised it to throw. I thought she was just going to threaten but she didn’t. She launched it. Officer Leonard and I ducked. The plate sailed over our heads and joined the rolling pin in the garden.

“Stop throwing things!” I yelled at her

“You threw an orange at me!”

“An orange is a soft fruit. Not a heavy piece of wood or porcelain.” I shrieked.

Katie waved her hand at me. “You’re not allowed in here without permission.”

“I have permission. I live here.”

“Not you. Him!” She jabbed a finger over my shoulder. I was almost surprised to find a calm Officer Leonard watching. Somehow I’d managed to forget he was there. And that was when I knew she’d completely infected me with her crazy.

When I turned back to her she was hefting a heavy, porcelain jar full of tea bags. “Hey. Katie. You throw that and you and I are going to have a big problem.”

“I’m allowed to defend myself if someone trespasses in my home. And stop calling me that.” She slammed the tea jar back on the counter.

“What do you want me to call you? The crazy woman who’s throwing things?” I yelled back. I couldn’t help it now. She’d gotten me into screaming mode. And once in it, it took a lot to get me out of it. And it felt so good to yell. To have a proper screaming match. To let it all out.

“I’m not crazy!” Katie screamed and pressed both hands to her head as though she were trying to stop it from spinning. Or keep the crazy inside.

“Can you give us a minute?” I asked Officer Leonard in my “everything completely is okay” tone, stepped back inside and closed the door in his face. I glanced over at Katie who had dropped to the floor, resting her back against the cupboards. “Hey, not crazy lady? I’m going to come over there. Please don’t stab me with a chair leg, okay?”

I stepped around the puddle of tea on the floor and reached for her mug. I stirred in a heaped spoonful of sugar, checked over my shoulder at her still distraught expression then added another for good measure. I offered her the mug but she just stared at it.

“Take it,” I said.

“Why, because tea makes everything better?”

“Pretty much. And biscuits. I would offer you one but you’ve beaten them to death. I can get you a spoon if you want to eat the crumbs.”

“I wanted cheesecake,” she said as she looked forlornly at the biscuits.

“Okay. These mood swings are making me dizzy.”

“Because you’re so well adjusted.”

“Just say it.” I motioned for her to speak.

“What?”

“Get it all out so we can move on,” I said and motioned again. She didn’t say anything. “Fine. I’ll start. I don’t like you because you tried to strangle Petal. I think that’s a justified reason to dislike someone. And I’m guessing you don’t like me because you think that Oz sent you away but he lets me get away with much more. Did you consider, though, that he tries to give me more leeway because he feels bad about sending you away, even though you totally deserved it?

“And you did deserve it. I mean, who strangles their housemate? And now you’re back and you won’t speak to us like it’s our fault. It’s not. You put your hands around her neck—”

“She wouldn’t leave me alone. She was always messing with my makeup and wanting to hug me and plait my hair and have sleepovers in my room. They all were but she was the worst. I just wanted five minutes’ peace. That’s all. Just five minutes to myself. I’d just died. And then my best friend died. I needed some time. I needed—”

“Well, boo hoo for you. Did it occur to you, in that tiny selfish little brain, that maybe everyone was worried about you and that’s why they were always around?” I asked. “Or that you could've asked Oz for help. Or maybe even said that you needed a minute instead of trying to murder her.”

“I wasn’t trying to murder her. I just wanted her to leave me alone for a second and—”

“Really? Because putting your hands around someone’s neck tends to scream murderous intentions, not ‘I need a minute’. See it from someone else’s perspective for a moment. Imagine you’d walked in on that. What would you have thought? You see everything from your own little sorry-for-yourself world. I know you must be mad about being locked away and hurting because of your friend and lonely because you think everyone hates you but you don’t have to live this way. Don’t be so standoffish all the time and everyone here will welcome you.

“Even Oz feels terrible about getting you locked up even though it was totally the right thing to do, so stop being such a martyr about it. And I know the reason you’re not speaking is because you feel guilty about Petal. I get that, but you have to deal with this because eternity is a long time. You have to say the words. You have to talk to Petal. Petal will forgive you but you have to ask. And not for her, for you. You need to make that first step.” And none of the irony of me giving Katie this speech was lost on me.

Katie stared up at me for a long moment. “Do you feel better now? Do you want to hug it out?”

“I’m glad I hate you. Now, not-crazy lady, I’m going to talk to Officer Leonard at the door—I won’t invite him in,” I added quickly when her posture stiffened, “But I’m guessing he’s here for a purpose. We should probably find out what.”

When she made no move to object, I dodged the puddle of tea and made it to the door. I threw a quick glance over my shoulder but she wasn’t looking for things to throw, so I figured I was safe. I opened the door to find an amused Officer Leonard waiting patiently on the other side.

“Everything okay?” he asked.

“Yep, how can we help you today, Officer Leonard?”

“Well, since every shopping trip this week has been interrupted by the discovery of a dead body, another one has been arranged for this evening. Third time lucky, I suppose. I’m here to escort you.”

“I think we’ll pass, but thank you for the offer.” I looked back to check with Katie. I don’t think she expected me to because she was sipping her tea and the look on her face said she felt like she’d been caught with her hand in the biscuit tin. But she shook her head to say she didn’t want to go either.

“Unfortunately, Ms Sway, neither of you have a choice.”

“How come?”

“It’s bureau arranged. You all have to attend together.”

Of course we did. I held up a finger implying he should wait and closed the door again.

“Katie, I need—Kate,” I said, abruptly remembering that was what Lily, Katie’s best friend who I’d sort of met once, had said Katie preferred to be called. “You prefer Kate, right?” Several emotions rippled across her face but she didn’t speak, only nodded. “Okay, Kate, I need to nip out for a second. I’ll be right back.”

“I’m not a child.”

“I’m not treating you like a child. I’m treating you like someone who’s going to throw heavy things at Officer Leonard’s head if left unsupervised,” I said and stepped outside.

Officer Leonard peeked through the kitchen window at Kate. “It has to be all of you.”

“It will be all of us. Oh! Did you release Sabrina?”

“I am aware that she is being processed out. Your parole officer had some interesting information regarding a suspect.”

“Really?”

“Apparently, someone confided in him their concerns about this individual’s involvement. When the facts were checked it seemed the information had some value.”

“Well, that’s good.”

Officer Leonard smiled at me. “I don’t suppose you’d happen to know who your parole officer’s informant is?”

“Why would I know?” I tunnelled to the fort before he could ask me any more questions.

I strode across the grass toward the building and found Eleanor at the front of the hall. She looked up at the sound of someone coming back in.

“Bridget? Is everything okay?”

“I’m so sorry, Eleanor, but I need your help again.”

“Did you get everything straightened out with your parole officer?” she asked, tidying up and slotting some papers into her satchel.

“Yes, but now he’s at the police station sorting that out and a GB has turned up at our house and said we have to go shopping again. I didn’t think it was wise to go without supervision. I’m so sorry. I know you must be busy.”

Eleanor puffed up her chest. “No, Bridget, you did the right thing.”

We stepped outside and Eleanor offered her hand, indicating I should tunnel us both. I did and we landed in the garden.

“That was good, Bridget. Focus a little more on the ground when you land to make it a smoother transition,” Eleanor praised.

I nodded and headed across the garden. Officer Leonard was leaning casually against the wall by the back door.

“Ms Sway.” His attention jumped over my shoulder to Eleanor. “You really are turning over a new leaf.”

“No, Officer, she’s simply growing out of the shade,” Eleanor said and focused on Officer Leonard’s face as if trying to memorise his features. “What’s your name?”

I introduced them. Officer Leonard was his usual amiable self but Eleanor seemed a good deal more protective than normal. I invited her inside to find Pam mopping up the tea while Anna was bawling at the top of her lungs at Kate, who was still sitting on the floor in the corner of the kitchen, her back to the cupboards and gripping her mug. She had that cornered animal expression.

Lucy watched with a scowl while Petal hid behind her.

“Excuse me a minute, Eleanor,” I said. I stuck two fingers in my mouth and blew a piercing whistle. Everyone stopped what they were doing. Petal launched at me, wrapping her arms around my waist and putting her head on my shoulder.

“It’s okay, Petal,” I said, patting her back. “Anna. Step back from Kate.”

“She smashed up my biscuits,” Anna cried and jabbed a finger at Kate.

“Anna. You were an adjustment companion for several years, right?” I asked.

“Until you got me put back on probation,” she yelled and jabbed a finger at me. Something about Kate made everyone yell.

“No, you got you put back on probation. And, to be clear, I might not have liked you but you were decent-ish at your job. At what point in your training did it say it was okay to screech at someone who was struggling to adjust?”

“She crushed my biscuits!” Anna jabbed her finger at Kate again.

“Okay, let me rephrase. You should probably stop yelling at Kate because she has a pretty good arm and she’s likely to throw something at your face if you persist. Okay?”

Anna frowned. “She is not going to throw something at me.”

“She threw a rolling pin at me,” Officer Leonard said from the doorway. “And a plate.”

“Did she throw the tea?” Pam asked.

“No. I threw the tea. I’d have tidied it up but then Officer Leonard came and said we have to go shopping again, so I went to get Eleanor so she could accompany us because Oz is still busy at the police station.”

“Who’s Eleanor?” Lucy asked.

“I am,” Eleanor waved at the faces around the room.

“It’s lovely to meet you, Eleanor,” Petal said, offering Eleanor her hand.

“And you.” Eleanor smiled back.

Once everyone had exchanged greetings, I ushered them all out into the garden where Officer Leonard was waiting.

“Is everyone ready?” he asked. There was no mocking in his tone, only amusement.

“I believe so,” Eleanor answered for everyone and gestured for everyone to hold hands. “You may tunnel us now.”

We landed a small distance away from the fitting rooms in the same department store. It was already bustling with people. I had no idea how that kept happening since it definitely should’ve been a crime scene. Lucy, Pam and Petal moved to head off together.

“Anna?” I called before she could stalk off.

She spun on her heel and scowled at me. “What?”

“Will you help Lucy find an outfit like the one you were wearing yesterday? She liked it but didn’t tell you because she doesn’t like you.”

Anna sighed and looked Lucy over. “To be honest, I’m not sure there’s much I can do with this,” she said, waving a hand in Lucy’s general direction.

“Jealousy is a terrible colour on you,” Lucy said with a smile. “Just like that snot green top. Washes you out.”

“No, hon, this is chartreuse. You really do need help, don’t you?” Anna held out her hand and waved her forward. “I’m always willing to help the less fortunate.”

I couldn’t hear what Lucy said back, but I was pretty sure it would’ve been something equally snarky.

“Pam, Petal? Will you guys help Kate? She doesn’t have any new clothes yet,” I said as Kate walked away.

“I don’t think—” Pam started.

“Pam. She doesn’t have any clothes. You and Petal are so great at choosing for other people. Help her out, okay? Kate?” She paused mid-step and looked back at me. “You need clothes. Don’t cut off your nose to spite your face. You do not want to be living with your underwear on a wash and wear cycle.”

No one spoke. I gave Kate what I hoped was an encouraging nod. Kate scowled at me, sighed and stared at the floor.

“Will you please help me find something to wear?” Kate asked in a teeny tiny voice that was barely audible over the general noise.

“Did she just speak?” Pam whispered to me and I nodded.

“Yep. And if she says she needs a minute, back off, alright?” I asked and they nodded.

Petal took a small step toward Kate. “You used to like black stuff, right? There are some really nice skinny fit black jeans in the corner. I think you might like them.” Petal pointed in their direction and Kate stalked off. She’d taken maybe five paces before she turned back around, waiting for them to catch her up.

“Look at you,” Eleanor whispered and gave me a small nudge with her arm. “I’m not sure I have any right to be, but I’m incredibly proud of you.”

“Thank you. Will you keep your eyes on them?” I nodded in the direction Pam, Petal and Kate had gone. “I’m pretty sure the person responsible for the murders has been apprehended, but let’s not take any chances.”

“Absolutely.” Eleanor squeezed my arm. “Thank you for asking for my help.”

“Thank you for helping,” I said simply and headed off after Lucy and Anna.

“No, it’s because it’s a popular size,” I heard Lucy say as I approached them.

“Well, they do say that the UK is becoming gradually obese.” Anna’s tone made it sound like she was agreeing and not insulting.

“What now?” I asked with a sigh. There had been a time when I had loved shopping. When I had loved it above all else. I couldn’t even recall how that had felt now.

“Lucy needs this top,” Anna said and then stage whispered to me as though she were sharing something shameful, “in a size ten.”

“A ten?” I whistled. “Lucy, that’s like a tent.”

Lucy pointed a talon tipped finger at me. “You think you’re funny. You’re not.”

“I’ll check the stockroom. You guys keep your eyes on the others, okay?” I asked as I grabbed the top from Anna. Personally, I had no idea how Lucy was going to squeeze her boobs into a size ten but I wasn’t about to say that in front of Anna.

“I can’t fashion police everyone,” Anna snapped at me.

“Try,” I called back.

All the bags of clothes were still in the stockroom, in what I was sure was the same arrangement as the night before. There wasn’t even crime scene tape. What was that about? Maybe there had been tape and the GBs had photographed everything, then removed it and were going to return it exactly to how it was after we’d left. But why go to all that effort instead of just picking a different store? It wasn’t like there was a shortage of department stores in the world.

It took me a minute but I managed to find the top Lucy wanted. I reached up and rooted through them, quickly scanning for a size ten.

And then the lights went out. I froze, arm extended. I’d not heard anyone else come in, so no one had switched the lights off. Unless they’d already been in here and I’d walked past them. Which was unlikely. Unless they’d been hiding. And that just did not bode well.

But they couldn’t have known I, specifically, would come in. So they were hiding in general? Why would they be hiding in general? Or were they hiding in wait for someone else? Or maybe the light bulb had popped and I was overreacting. But there had to be more than one light bulb in the whole stockroom—the room was huge—and there was no chance they’d all burnt out at the same time. That would’ve been too much of a coincidence. Unless it was a fuse issue. And this store did seem somewhat lax on their safety precautions.

Whatever. Intentional blackout or not, the best thing to do was get out. Not even take the chance. I reached out to use the clothes rail as a guide and then the air change behind me. It became more solid. And then something rough was pulled tight across my throat.

Chapter Nineteen

I stamped on my attacker’s instep, then cursed myself for not wearing my heels. I could’ve stabbed straight through their foot. I stamped down on it again. And again. And again. And again. And again. Like I was doing a hoe down. But they didn’t let go. I reached back to try and scratch at their face but they were leaning too far back so I grabbed their wrists and lifted my feet off the floor.

With the unexpected weight shift my attacker tripped over me and we both fell forward. The air whooshed out of me as I hit the floor and then again as my attacker landed on my back. Maybe because I’d initiated the fall I recovered quicker. I scrambled away through the blackness before they could grab me again. I felt something graze my head. I rolled over and batted it away, blindly kicking out in what I assumed was the direction of my attacker.

Somewhere in my panicked brain the scratching of metal on metal registered. Hanger heads on a metal bar, scratching as the clothes swung. Not an attacker. I waved my arm out in front of me, found the line of clothing and rolled underneath it.

A hand slapped on the linoleum. Each slap brought it closer. I twisted my body, pulling both feet up to my chest. Was it the left hand or right? Which side would the head be on? The hand grazed my hip. I made a snap decision and shot both feet toward what I hoped was the direction of the face. My feet hit air. I pulled my knees in, rocked back to readjust my angle and shot them out toward the other side of the hand. I’d lost some force with changing direction but I figured once they hit something solid I could just keep stamping on their face until they stopped trying to kill me. That seemed like a good idea.

My feet hit nothing for the second time. Well, not nothing but not something either. A tingling sensation reached up to my mid-calves. It lasted a couple of seconds before it faded. I pulled my knees to my chest and held my breath. Waiting. I very much wanted to believe that the tingle was a cramp from wearing high heels yesterday but I had a disgusting feeling that I’d just had my feet inside someone’s body as they tunnelled away.

Half a minute later there’d still been no renewed attack. The silence grew louder as the seconds ticked by. A hanger screeched on a metal bar on the far side of the stock room. I knew I needed to move but the emergency lighting still hadn’t kicked in. Maybe this was really premeditated and my attempted strangler turned it off somehow.

And why were they at the back of the stockroom? I thought they’d tunnelled out of the stockroom. Unless they tunnelled to another corner of it to attack again. Or maybe they hadn’t tunnelled anywhere and my calves really had just cramped from wearing heels the day before.

I gave myself a mental shake. It didn’t matter what they were doing—I needed to get out of the room. I pushed up to my hands and knees and crawled in what I thought was the direction of the end of the aisle. If I could get my back to a wall and follow it to the door I could turn the lights on. Nothing was as scary when you could see it.

One hand waving out in front of me I shuffled forward. The wall came up faster than I expected. I pushed to my feet and paused to listen. Nothing. No swinging clothes. No rustling. What did that mean? I followed the wall, waving my hand out in front of me and then my foot caught on something. I tripped and hit the floor with a thud. I ignored the pain in my knees and crawled forward. I had the briefest thought that this would mean the end for my beautiful white jumpsuit but as long as I survived I’d be okay with that.

The door reared up in front of me. I pushed to my feet and yanked it open. Light spilled in along with the sounds of happy chatter, laughter and shopping. I could shout for someone but who? And what if the killer was still in here? I flipped the lights on and blinked in the sudden brightness as I let the door close again.

With the lights on I was able to think a little clearer. The door hadn’t opened so my attacker hadn’t walked out. Oz had explained during our first trip that there was a block placed on the department store when we were inside so only GBs and parole officers could tunnel in and out. That meant, if my attacker had tunnelled out then it was a GB or parole officer.

Maybe it had been Treble. Janice and Treble in cahoots. What had Oz told the GBs? Had he said it was Janice alone or implied Treble had helped? And how had they confirmed the information? Why hadn’t I asked Officer Leonard when I’d had the chance?

I grabbed the staple gun from the counter. I would check to make sure my strangler wasn’t still inside and then I’d go out and ask Officer Leonard. I rolled my shoulders back and hoisted up my courage. Something about that movement had suddenly given my body permission to let me know that everything hurt. My hands, knees, ankles, feet, elbows, and my throat. Definitely my throat. It was like I’d swallowed a bag of razor blades. Breathing suddenly hurt. Somehow that all just made me angrier. I was so tired of nearly being murdered.

I hadn’t even checked the first aisle properly when I heard a noise at the other end of the stockroom.

“Come out. I’m armed.” Yes, it was a staple gun but they didn’t know that.

“Don’t hurt me!” A tiny figure stepped out of one of the aisles at the back of the stockroom, her hands above her head.

“Olive? What are you doing in here?” Had Olive tried to strangle me? But she was so slight. I couldn’t see strangulation being her murder method of choice. Then again, Kate wasn’t huge and she’d tried to strangle Petal. Crazy gave people strength.

“I came in to see if they had anything good in here and then the lights went out,” she said.

“And then what? You waited silently in the dark for the lights to come back on?” I asked.

Olive nodded. “What else should I have done?”

“Maybe tried to find the light switch?”

“But it was so dark and I couldn’t see.”

“What were you going to do? Just sit in the dark and wait for someone to come and rescue you?”

“Yes.”

“Right. Didn’t you hear someone trying to murder me?”

“I did hear scuffling. Is that what that was? Oh, no. Did they kill you?” she asked, with genuine concern.

I looked Olive over. Did I believe she’d attempted to murder me? Probably not. But then, I’d been fooled like that before.

“Let’s get back outside.” I lowered my staple gun and jerked my head in the direction of the door. She stepped toward me. But she stepped with a limp.

I aimed the staple gun back at her face. “Why are you limping?”

“I twisted my ankle.”

“When? Show me your foot.”

“Why?”

“Because I stamped on the foot of the person who tried to strangle me. Several times. I’m pretty sure they’ll be limping too.”

Olive gasped. “I didn’t try to kill you!”

“Yep, no offence. Kinda not going to take your word for it.” Not now anyway.

“Tough.” Olive tossed her head like a defiant child.

“Okay. Show me or I’m going to fill your face full of staples. That may seem excessively violent but someone tried to strangle me, so I’m not feeling a whole lot like taking your innocence on good faith.”

“Janice told me to stay away from you. She said you were dangerous,” Olive said, eyeing the staple gun.

“Well, Janice possibly murdered a whole heap of people, so I’m not sure how much weight I’d put in her declarations of other people being dangerous.”

“Janice wouldn’t do that.”

I inclined my head. “And yet, she did.”

Olive jabbed her finger at me as if she were calling an elevator. “I’m going to tell her the vicious lies you’re spreading about her. She was right to make that complaint against you. I thought you were nice but here you are bad-mouthing her.”

“I think she’s got bigger problems than me accurately-mouthing her,” I said and realised that probably sounded a bit weird. Olive didn’t notice.

“Did you just threaten her? That’s it.” Olive limped toward me, her eyes on my staple gun the whole time. “I’m telling her right now. Staple me if you want to. It’ll be another nail in your coffin.”

Something about the way Olive was speaking about Janice had alarm bells ringing. Surely, Olive would know Janice had been arrested. Someone else would’ve had to bring her shopping, so she’d know by now, right? Surely, she’d know. Surely.

I stepped in front of Olive. “Where is Janice right now?”

“She’s at the fitting rooms with everyone else. And I plan to tell her, really loudly, about this so everyone knows what type of person you are.” Olive tried to dodge past me but I stepped in her path.

“Janice is here?” I asked, my head swivelling around as if she were likely to pop up behind me any second. Janice was definitely not too slight to strangle me.

“Yes, and I’m telling on you.” Olive dodged past me and limped to the door. “I hope the GBs prosecute you this time.”

Oz had told them about Janice. He’d definitely told them. Hadn’t he? Yes, because Officer Leonard had referenced it when he came to pick us up for the shopping trip. So why wasn’t Janice locked up? But Officer Leonard hadn’t specifically mentioned Janice. He’d said the information had led to a suspect. An individual. He hadn’t mentioned Janice by name. Or even a parole officer.

Did that mean they couldn’t use the information Oz had given them and needed proof, so they let her loose to try to catch her in the act of something. Like strangling me. Or she wasn’t the culprit and they’d let her loose so the killer would know that their frame job hadn’t worked and to try to force their hand. By strangling me. Oz had been right. Officer Leonard was once again using me for bait.

I quickly checked over the rest of the stockroom for potential murdering suspects. There was no other door, so unless Olive had been my attempted murderer then it was someone who could tunnel into blocked places. Which meant it was either Janice and Treble or some mixture of GBs and parole officers. Or just Janice. Or just Treble. Or it was Olive. Or Olive was helping.

“This is exactly why you don’t trust people in authority,” I mumbled and headed back to the door. I was going to round up my housemates and we were all going to shop together until Oz appeared to take us home. I pulled the door open. Olive stood in the doorway. Her features were twisted in anger. I lifted the staple gun back to her face.

And then I noticed a red light flashing behind her. A flashing red light never signalled anything good.

“Everyone’s gone,” Olive said. “And it’s your fault.”

I glanced around the stockroom. No exit lights and no fire alarm. Either we were dealing with an extremely well prepared murderer or this store was really not up to health and safety standards. I was glad they didn’t serve food here. People would be dropping like flies.

“Is that a fire alarm? Is everyone gone?” I asked and shooed her out of the doorway.

“You did this on purpose so I wouldn’t tell on you.”

“Yes, I managed to set off and silence a fire alarm while I was in the stockroom talking to you. Good deducing, Olive. Well done. You’ve got me.”

“I know you did it and I’m still going to tell on you,” Olive said as she followed me toward the fitting rooms.

“Awesome. You go ahead and do that,” I said and blew Oz’s whistle.

“What are you doing?”

“Calling for help,” I said around the whistle. I blew it again and waited. The seconds ticked by. No Oz. Again. We were going to have words about the effectiveness of his whistle-in-emergency situations when I got home. If no one managed to kill me first. I blew it again and glanced around the fitting rooms. Still no Oz. Where was he that he couldn’t hear? He could still hear me whistle in blocked areas and he could tunnel directly into this type of blocking. Couldn’t he? Except in emergencies maybe. A fire alarm was an emergency. Would that mean the whistle was blocked? Did that change the type of blocking? I really needed to pin him down on when this whistle worked and when it didn’t. “Okay. That’s not working. Do you know where the evacuation point is?”

“Won’t it be where it was the last two times we had to evacuate because you murdered people?” Olive asked.

“Well, despite the fact that dead people are incredibly stupid, I still doubt the fire evacuation meeting point would be the top of the building that’s on fire. Let’s get outside so we can have a quick look around and see if they’re out there. They’ll likely do a head count when they get to wherever the evacuation point is, so they’ll realise we’re missing and come and get us. Hopefully, they’ll have enough common sense to check outside.”

“I’m tunnelling home,” Olive said.

“Yes, Olive, that’s a great idea. Tunnel home, so no one knows where you are when a fire alarm has gone off. That way someone can risk their life searching this building for you when you’re sitting at home in your fluffy slippers and eating ice cream.”

“I don’t care what you think,” she said and rolled her shoulders as if starting to focus on tunnelling.

I grabbed her wrist. “Olive. Be smart. What if there really is a fire? I have no clue how the afterlife works in emergencies like this, but I am sure you can’t just tunnel home. No one will know where you are. They’ll come back and get us.”

“Let go of me.”

“Olive—”

“Help! Help!” she shrieked.

“Oh, for goodness sake, Olive—” I was about to explain how ridiculous she was being but something like a freight train hit me from behind. Arms wrapped around my waist, a shoulder thumped into my back and the force of impact took me to the floor.

I aimed the staple gun over my shoulder and fired indiscriminately. Someone grunted and I kept firing as I wriggled out from beneath my attacker. I scrambled away and whirled around, staple gun raised. A red-faced Janice bore down on me, bloody specks on her face from where I’d caught her with the staple gun.

Before I even had time to formulate a plan of attack, or more accurately defence, Janice was jerked backward by her hair. Eleanor moved from behind Janice and did some ninja-like-hand-chopping-moves that were so quick her hands were a blur. And then Janice was on her knees, gasping for breath.

“Don’t mess with my wards, Sweetie,” Eleanor said. She delivered it like a quip from an action movie but she totally owned it. And when she said “sweetie” it sounded very much like a different word. One that rhymed with “witch”.

“Are you okay, Bridget?” Eleanor asked.

“I’m fine,” I wheezed, rubbing my back, which was totally going to be bruised tomorrow. Along with my neck. And pretty much every other part of me.

“What’s wrong with—” Eleanor moved my collar out of the way and her eyes widened at the bruising around my neck. “Did she do that?” The tone of Eleanor’s voice said that she might ninja chop Janice some more if I said yes. Tempting as that was, I shook my head.

“I don’t know who it was. I was in the stockroom and someone tried to strangle me.” I pointed in Olive’s direction. “She was in there when it happened. I think they might be in on it together. The GBs know that Janice tried to murder a medium so I don’t know how she’s still free.”

“Bridget. Go to evacuation point B.” Eleanor strode over to Janice, who was struggling to her feet, grabbed both her and Olive, then disappeared.

“Where’s evacuation point B again?” I asked the empty department store. I had to start paying more attention to this stuff. I really should’ve learnt my lesson by now. But then I never expected someone to try to murder me all the time. “From now on you should expect someone to murder you all the time.”

A figure moved in the shadows by the cash desk. “That is such a good idea.”

Chapter Twenty

“I’m not doing this.” I waved a hand at the figure.

“Doing what?” the voice asked.

“Being nearly murdered. I’m just not. You know I used to love shopping? And you people have ruined it for me. Ruined it. So, I’ll be at the police station waiting for you to turn yourself in with your accomplice/accomplices.”

I could go back to the police station and wait there. Oz would still be there. Was he still there? I didn’t want to get there and have them not let me leave. But Eleanor would be there with Janice and Olive, wouldn’t she? Or I could tunnel home and lock the door. Oz would come home and find me. Eleanor would find me. Either way, I was not being chased around a clothing store by a crazy killer.

Treble stepped out of the shadows and came around the front of the cash desk. I tried to tunnel but it didn’t work. I sighed heavily. I was betting that the GBs had placed a blocking on the department so after the evacuation no one could tunnel back except authorised personnel.

Treble leaned on the counter. “Problem?”

“Nope.” I checked the staple level in my gun. It was still half full. I tucked it into my pocket and stepped to a nearby floor fixture full of vests. I’d worked in fashion retail briefly so I knew that most free-standing floor fixtures had easily detachable metal arms. I hoped this was still the case. I chucked the vests onto the floor and attempted to lift the arm off the main metal frame. It came off easily. It was a straight length of metal about as long as my forearm. It would do. I lifted it and swung it. It was heavy. It would definitely do.

“Okay. Let’s get this over with, then.” I motioned for him to approach.

Treble frowned at my wielding of the metal arm. “Get what over with?”

“The bit where you try and kill me.” I swung the metal bar again. “The bit where I knock you unconscious and save the day.”

“Why would I be trying to kill you?” he asked, not taking his eyes from my makeshift weapon.

“Maybe because I know you killed the mediums to swell the ranks of the GBs so you can keep track of lawbreakers. I’d actually find it funny that you were breaking the law to do it if you weren’t killing people.”

“Why would you think that? Have you heard something?” The air around Treble became oddly still. Had he thought he was going to kill me and get away with it? Was he asking me who else he needed to kill? “Has someone told you why mediums are being murdered?”

I shrugged. “No. Yes. Maybe. So I figure you’re trying to kill me because I know it’s you. Come on, let’s get this done. My parole officer said we could watch a movie tonight and I’m pretty sure he’ll let me have a whole tub of ice cream to myself on account of you strangling me.”

Treble stepped forward. “Someone tried to strangle you?”

“Yes. You. In the stockroom earlier. That’s why you’re limping because I stomped on your foot.”

Treble held his hands out to the side and walked toward me. “I’m not limping.”

I watched him walk. He wasn’t limping. I’d stomped on my attacker’s foot really hard so I was pretty sure they wouldn’t be able to walk without limping. And Olive had limped. Maybe she and Janice were in it together. And Janice would be able to tunnel out of the room since she would be classed as “authorised personnel”.

But then here was Treble. He’d have had access to Afterlife Arrivals. And he’d called Sean out of the room. And I’d seen the types of forms that went into those files. There’d be no reason to think that, without a bit of ingenuity, Treble wouldn’t be able to fake a form and slip it into Janice’s file, implicating her as Madame Zorina’s strangler. Especially if he’d stolen Christina’s keys.

Maybe it had been Treble all along. Maybe it had nothing to do with Janice and he’d framed her.

I pointed the metal bar at his feet. “Stand on your tiptoes.”

“Ms Sway, Officer Leonard sent me to collect you and take you to evacuation point B.”

“Well, that’s a lie. Why would he send you and my GA leader?”

“He didn’t send her, she came on her own. Something to do with feeling responsible for you.” He shook his head. “As a member of the Ghosting Busters, I shouldn’t really express an opinion but I have no idea why so many people like you.”

I shrugged. “I’m charismatic.”

“Sure you are. Let’s get you to evacuation point B. Your parole officer can deal with you there.”

I gestured to him with the metal arm. “I want to be really clear. I will hit you if you come any closer.”

“You’ll strike a member of the GBs?” Treble arched an eyebrow in disbelief. I wasn’t sure if it was because he didn’t think I would or he didn’t consider me that much of a threat.

“Yep. And probably more than once to make sure you’re down. Then I’ll hogtie you and wait for the cavalry.”

“I’m one of the good guys,” Treble stressed. As if speaking with more emphasis somehow made him trustworthy.

“Of course you are. Because no murderer has ever told me they didn’t do it.”

“You don’t believe me?”

“Well, you’re not likely to admit to being a murderer when you’re trying to gain my trust so you can get close enough to kill me, are you? This isn’t my first rodeo, y’know.”

“Okay. This is ridiculous. Put your weapon down, or I’ll put you down.”

“Oh, yeah, that totally convinces me you’re a good guy. Good job.”

“It’s well within my scope as a GB to subdue any afterlife citizen I deem a threat to myself or others by any means necessary.”

“Well, it’s well within my scope as someone who doesn’t want to be murdered to beat anyone with this metal arm who I deem a threat to my personal safety.”

“I going to approach. Don’t hit me.” Treble held his hands up and took a step forward.

I lifted the metal arm like a baseball bat. “If you approach I’m going to hit you.”

“There could quite feasibly be a fire in here so I need to get you out,” Treble said, using an oh-so-reasonable-let-me-get-close-to-you-so-I-can-kill-you tone.

“You’ve been shooting the breeze with me for five minutes and now you’re worried about the fire?”

“Ms Sway—”

I adjusted my stance, ready to swing. “If you step into my swinging range, I will swing.”

Treble’s eyes jumped over my shoulder. Before I could work out if he were trying to distract me or if there was someone behind me, an arm wrapped around my torso while the metal arm was ripped from my hands. I stomped on my attacker’s instep. I prepared to add another four stomps but the arm released me straightaway. I’d expected more of a fight. I lost my balance at the sudden release and fell forward.

I turned the fall into an awkward forward roll. I had absolutely no idea where the move came from. I didn’t even know I was capable of a forward roll. And I doubted I could do it again. And it was probably more of a sideways roll, really. And I hurt my shoulder. Regardless, it did the job. I came to a stop in a sitting position, then scrambled to my feet so I could watch Treble and whoever showed up behind me. I pulled the staple gun from my pocket and aimed it.

“Two on one, Ms Sway.” Treble gestured to himself and Richards. “It’s time to surrender.”

“Are you in it together?” I asked, stalling for time. Both were taller than me and I was pretty sure they were quicker. They’d both outmuscle me. If I survived this, I was absolutely getting Eleanor to teach me some of that ninja stuff she’d used on Janice.

“In on what together?” Richards asked.

“The medium-murdering spree.” I looked between them “Obviously. Unless there’s some other drama going on?”

“You think we’re killing mediums?” Richards laughed. Like, that’s-the-best-thing-I’ve-heard-all-day laughed. “Why would we kill mediums?”

“To swell the ranks of the GBs,” I explained, trying to keep the sudden insecurity out of my voice.

“Did you miss the part where we’re the good guys?” Richards asked and glanced to Treble for an explanation.

Treble rolled his eyes. “Leonard gives her too much leeway and now she thinks she’s Miss Marple.”

“Is that right?” Richards asked me.

I shrugged, which hurt my shoulder, and lowered my staple gun slightly. “I don’t know who Miss Marple is. And it’s not my fault that Officer Leonard likes me more than he likes you. Obviously, he sensed your murdering craziness.”

“Okay, how about you walk me through what you’ve got?” Richards asked me. “Then we can discuss it.”

“What are you doing?” Treble said.

“What? If she’s as nosy as you said, she might know something that would help us catch the perpetrator.” Richards turned back to me. “So?”

Treble stepped toward me. “This is a waste of time. Let’s grab her and go.”

“She could be able to help.”

“She can’t help. She doesn’t know anything.” Treble slapped the back of his hand into his palm to stress his point.

“If she doesn’t know anything, why not let her talk?” Richards turned my way. “Is he scaring you? Would you rather speak to me alone?”

My attention jumped between them. “I’d rather not speak to either of you without my parole officer present.”

“Ms Sway.” Richards waved at me as if to get my attention. “You know I’m a good guy, right? I’ve taken your side a couple of times now when you were about to be unfairly treated. That has to count for something. Tell me what you know, okay? I can protect you.”

“Okay.” I nodded and jabbed my staple gun in Treble’s direction. “It’s him.”

“It’s him?” Richards asked and glanced at Treble.

“She accused me right after she accused Janice Peaks and her ward.” Treble shook his head at Richards. “Don’t talk to her for too long or you’ll be the next person she accuses. Or maybe she’ll try and pin it on Fredrickson. Who knows at this point?”

“You were the one who called Sean out of the filing room,” I said.

“When was this?” Richards asked me.

“This morning,” I said. Had that only been this morning? It felt like years ago now.

Richards glanced to Treble. “You told me you had a couple of meetings at head office this morning,”

Treble nodded. “I did. And then I came back to Arrivals and I—”

“And what?” Richards asked.

“And I saw Janice,” Treble finished.

“Oh, now you think it’s Janice,” I muttered.

“Convenient that you’ve just remembered that,” Richards said.

“She was the one who told me about the passengers.” Treble shook his head at me. “You were right. I can’t believe you were right.”

I made a non-committal noise. I wasn’t trusting Treble’s sudden revelation. Even if Janice had told him.

Richards nodded but didn’t take his eyes off Treble. “Okay. Well, we’ll drop her off at evac point B and then we can go and check in with head office and you can make a statement saying that.”

Treble shrugged. “Okay.”

Richards nodded. “Okay.”

Treble gestured toward me. “Grab her and let’s go.”

Richards waved the metal bar he’d stolen from me. “Hands are full. You grab her.”

“How about nobody grabs me?” I said but neither man heard me. I shuffled back a step. No one noticed. I shuffled another. Still they didn’t notice.

“So put it down and grab her. It’s not like you need to keep hold of it,” Treble said.

“You’re closer, though,” Richards countered, taking a step back and not dropping the bar.

I looked between them. They were fully facing each other now. So much for Richards believing in Treble’s innocence. Richards was bigger than Treble but Treble was sinewy. I kind of had the feeling that, despite Richards holding the metal bar, if it came to a brawl, Treble might win. I decided that I didn’t want to be around for that. So I ran.

A quick check over my shoulder told me no one had followed. I hightailed it to the back of the store and charged up the back staircase, heading for the lingerie floor. Nothing could go wrong if I was surrounded by pretty underwear, right?

I edged the door open and peeked out onto the floor. It looked empty. Grunting noises travelled up through the open escalators column. I grabbed another metal arm from one of the fixtures, just in case, and hid behind a stand filled with towelling bathrobes. From there I had a clear view of the escalators, the door to the back stairs and the elevators without being seen. I put Oz’s whistle in my mouth and blew out a silent tune while I waited for someone to come and try to kill me.

Chapter Twenty-One

“Ms Sway?” Richards shouted from the ground floor. “It’s safe to come out now.”

“Pffft. Right,” I mumbled around Oz’s whistle, which I was still blowing intermittently.

“Ms Sway? It’s safe now. I’ve incapacitated Officer Treble. We need to get you to evac point B so I can get a medic to come and check him out.”

“Whatever you say,” I mumbled and blew my whistle again. And then stopped. Only my parole officer could hear it, right? Oz had never told me that anyone other than him could hear it. But maybe GBs could tune into the frequency. In emergencies. I let the whistle drop from my lips. Best not to chance it.

“Ms Sway?” Richards’ voice came up from the escalators. “Ms Sway? It’s safe now.”

“Safe for you to murder me,” I mumbled.

“Officer Treble hit his head pretty hard when he fell. He might have murdered people but he needs to be alive to pay for his crimes.”

“Why can’t you leave to get a medic?” I whispered. I knew he couldn’t hear me but it was still a valid question.

“I can’t leave you here alone in case I get held up somehow and Officer Treble wakes up and hurts you while I’m gone.” There was a pause. “It’s unlikely but I don’t want to take that chance with your safety. Especially since Officer Treble knows you can implicate him.”

There was no way he’d heard me. GBs didn’t have superpowers. Unless you counted manipulation. And I was pretty sure that was only Officer Leonard.

“Ms Sway?” Richards’ voice came from the escalators. He was on the same floor now. “You can trust me. Please. Come out. I know you’re afraid and I understand. If you have any sort of weapon to protect yourself you can keep hold of it but I need to get you out of here.”

Okay, realistically what were my options? Stay here and wait Richards out. If he found me and he was the good guy, there would be no consequences because he was the good guy. If he found me and he was the bad guy, then he’d try and kill me. But Richards had said I could keep hold of my weapon. A bad guy wouldn’t say that, right? And I didn’t want to be waiting around for someone to find me and kill me. If Richards was a bad guy, surely it was better just to get it over with, right?

I stood up. “I’m keeping my weapon.”

“That’s okay, Ms Sway. You can do that.” Richards’ voice was thick with relief as he headed over to me. “Let’s get you out of here.”

“I would like that very much,” I said and moved into the centre aisle.

He winced at my bruised neck. “That looks sore. Strangulation’s no fun.”

“No, really? I was having the time of my life.”

He stepped closer and offered me his hand. “Let’s get you out of here.”

I don’t know why at that moment I chose to look at his shoes but I did. I’d like to think that some part of me was used to recognising murderers. Not my conscious active brain that couldn’t pick them out of a lineup and steer me safely away from them, but some part of my gut that recognised danger. Regardless of why I looked, I did. On the hem of his trousers was a faint print of the pattern of the sole of my shoe. From where I’d stamped on my strangler’s foot.

“What?” Richards looked down at his shoes.

“Nothing I just—” I cut myself off as I stared over Richards’ shoulder. “Treble?”

Richards spun around to find there was no one behind him. Not Treble. Not anyone. By the time he realised I’d tricked him and was turning back around I was already swinging the metal bar at his head. It connected with a meaty thud, the impact reverberating along my arms. Richards dropped to the floor in a crumpled heap. I grabbed the silk tie from a nearby dressing gown. I rolled him onto his front and wound it around his wrists with an urgency of not wanting to be strangled to death.

“That’ll teach you to underestimate a girl,” I told him as I bent his right leg up and tied it up to his opposite hand. “‘Keep your weapon, Bridget. I’m a good guy, Bridget,’” I mimicked as I finished tying the knot. “If you’re such a good guy, how did you get my shoe print on your trousers, hmm? I suppose I could’ve let you try to explain but the only time you could’ve got it on you was when you tried to strangle me and I stamped on your foot. Explain that away. You can’t, can you? Because there’s—” I slumped in on myself. “Because there’s no way you could’ve got it on you except for the other time I stomped on your foot when you took the metal bar away from me.” I patted him on the back and stood up. “Oh, well. No good crying over blows to the head now.”

I dusted down my jumpsuit and tried to work out the best way to escape. I was fairly certain Treble was unconscious like Richards had said. Unless he and Richards had been in on the whole thing together and were trying to confuse me. But there’d been a definite vibe of suspicion between them so I doubted that. Depending on where Treble was downstairs I could try and sneak past him and out of the front doors. I was guessing the blocking prevented misting and all the fire doors would be locked because no one was supposed to be in the store. And I doubted I’d be able to break the window. Although, I had a metal bar bat—maybe that would work.

I grabbed another dressing gown tie so I could use it to restrain a hopefully still unconscious Treble, because I was not taking the ribbon from my hair. Priorities and all. I was still fighting with a dressing gown that didn’t want to give up its tie when, for the second time in ten minutes, what felt like a freight train launched into my back.

I hit the floor hard. I didn’t wonder who it was. I didn’t care. All I knew was that if they were tackling me then they deserved whatever they got. I threw my head backward and the base of my ponytail hit something but I felt there was more damage to my hairstyle than my attacker. A hand reached out to grab for one of my hands. Just as it was gripping my wrist I pulled my hand to my face and bit down on their hand so hard I actually tasted blood. A scream echoed in one of my ears and the weight lifted off me. I rolled onto my back, pulled my knees up to my chest and then shot my feet at the face of my attacker.

Fredrickson saw the move coming and dodged, landing awkwardly on his side. He tried to push himself back up with his hands but he put his weight on the one I’d bitten and he crumpled forward again. I was already on my feet so when he fell forward I jumped on his back. After looping the centre of the belt around one of his feet a couple of times I pulled his good hand behind his back and tied them together.

When he was secured, I scrambled off his back and wiped at my tongue with my cuff, trying to get the taste of blood out of my mouth.

“You’ll never get away with this,” Fredrickson grunted at me.

“Funny, I was about to say the same thing to you. And do you guys get any type of training at all? Because that was a poor show by you.”

“I was trying not to hurt you so you would be able to immediately stand trial for your crimes,” he said.

“Yeah, rugby tackling a girl definitely has that ‘trying not to hurt you’ vibe.” I gave him two thumbs up. “Good job. Wait. What crimes?”

“You assaulted two GBs!”

I frowned at him and glanced around the floor and then pointed to Richards. “I only see one. How hard did I backward headbutt you? Is your vision blurry? How many fingers am I holding up?” I held up two fingers and waited for him to answer. I was ninety percent sure the back of my head hadn’t connected with him at all—just my ponytail.

“Officer Treble downstairs. He said you attacked him.”

“I did no such thing!” I snapped. “I don’t just go around attacking people.”

“You attacked me. And Richards.”

“You attacked me!” I screeched, then reined in my attitude and stared at him from the corner of my eyes. “You’re in on this, aren’t you? You were all for swelling the medium ranks of the GBs. Was it you who got Treble to call Sean out of the room so you could frame Treble? Treble tried to implicate Janice but I thought that was just to distract Richards. Or did you tell Janice to tell Treble to tell Sean? But that would only work if you killed Janice before she could say it was you. If Janice was involved in this at all. Are you in it with Richards?” I asked. I had no clue who was the good guy and the bad guy anymore.

“Treble was the one who gave Sean that message?” Fredrickson asked. He tried to scan around us while still on the floor. “You need to untie me. We need to get you out of here so you can make a statement.”

I arched an eyebrow at him. “Is that right?”

“You need to untie me so I can protect you,” Fredrickson insisted.

“Think I’m doing okay on my own, thanks,” I said, backing away from him. The plan was still to get out of the front door before Treble woke up. Although, depending on whether you believed Fredrickson or not, Treble was already awake. Unless Fredrickson was in on this too. Did that mean Treble was still unconscious?

“Ms Sway. You don’t understand how dangerous this situation is. You need to untie me. I can help you. We can work together and resolve this nightmare,” Fredrickson shouted as I headed toward the escalators.

I spun back around to frown at Fredrickson and his sudden desire to work together. “Where did that come from? First I need to stand trial from my crimes. Then I need to untie you so you can protect me. Now you want to work together?”

And then, once again, I knew someone was behind me. Anyone who knew me would’ve called out to me. So that meant another bad guy. How many were there? Fredrickson’s attention jumped over my right shoulder.

I dropped into a crouch and spun around, metal arm in my hands and aiming for the shins of whoever was behind me. I’d managed to incapacitate two GBs so far. I didn’t think my luck would hold out for a third. The metal bar connected with the shins of my new attacker. They yelped in pain and bent forward to grab their legs. Fredrickson was shouting something behind me but I focused on securing this new threat.

I popped upright and darted behind him while he was still gripping his shin, hooked my heel across the top of his ankle and pushed him forward to trip him. He fell forward but landed on his hands and knees. I fisted my hands in the hem of each leg of his jumpsuit and pulled his knees out from under him. He landed on his stomach with a grunt. I yanked a dressing gown from its hanger and, dressing gown still attached, I looped the belt around one of his feet. I pulled back his opposite arm back and tied them together.

It was over in a matter of seconds. I stood up and stepped back, dusting my hands and admiring my work. I was becoming quite proficient in the hogtying game. Was it pretty? No. But it was secure.

“What are you doing?” he cried.

“Saving myself.” I picked up my metal bar and gestured to the newest member of our hogtied crew. “Neals, right?”

“You’ll never get away with this,” he cried.

“Why do people keep saying that to me? Get away with what? Defending myself? And let me guess, you were trying to help me, right? Like all three, no, four of you aren’t in it together.”

“It’s Treble,” Fredrickson said to Neals. “She said she heard him talking to the induction officer to get him out of the file room.”

“How do you know she’s not lying to deflect blame?” Neals asked, twisting to look at me over his shoulder.

“She mentioned it in passing. She didn’t know the value of that information,” Fredrickson explained.

“Maybe she did and she’s playing us,” Neals countered.

“Okay, boys. It’s been a delight but I’m leaving now. Am I likely to meet any more of you on my way out?” I asked and then shook my head. “Never mind. I wouldn’t believe anything you told me anyway.”

“Ms Sway, you need to release me so we can get to Treble before he escapes,” Fredrickson insisted.

“Yep, well, I’m thinking I might escape first, Fredrickson, if it’s all the same to you.”

“What if he kills us? We’re sitting ducks like this.” Neals wriggled in his binding to emphasise his point.

“Yep, and what if you guys are all bad guys and I let you go and you kill me? See my problem?” I continued toward the escalators with the hogtied GBs shouting after me. I was halfway down the escalator and scanning for Treble when the shouting stopped. I was about to go back up and make sure they weren’t dead but if they’d stopped yelling because they were dead then they were already dead and I couldn’t help. And if they’d stopped yelling for some other reason I was pretty sure I’d find out what that was soon enough.

I crept down the escalator. I couldn’t see so Treble I made a dash for the front doors.

“Ms Sway? Is that you?” Treble stumbled into my path. He had one hand pressed to his right temple and was staggering slightly.

“Yep. I’ve incapacitated the killer,” I said.

“What did you do to him?” Treble took another step forward and I gritted my teeth as if that would help my feet not shuffle back. Treble might be the killer. Or he might not be the killer. All I knew was that he was standing in my way.

“I hit him over the head with a metal bar and then hogtied him.”

“Why?”

“Well, I realised he was the killer, not you, so I knocked him out and tied him up so you could take him in, or do whatever it is you do to unruly GBs.”

“Okay, well … that’s good.” Treble reached out a hand to me. He was an arm’s-length away. On the inside of his wrist there were fresh scratches. Like, from fingernails when the person you were strangling was trying to get free. I didn’t think I’d scratched my attacker but it had all happened so fast. And now I didn’t even care. I wanted to get out of the stupid department store. Next time I wanted new clothes I was ordering from a catalogue.

“Yeah, there’s one thing, though,” I said.

Treble frowned at me, his hand still extended. “What?”

I lunged forward and to the side, swinging the metal bar as I moved. I winced in empathy while I did it, but I still swung the metal bar at his shins with all my strength.

He screamed and snapped over at the waist to grab his legs. I leapt up, grabbed a wraparound dress with a tie waist, which I’d been eyeing on that first shopping trip that now felt like a gazillion years ago. I threw it over Treble’s head, hooked my foot in front of his and pushed him forward while pulling my foot back to trip him. Just like Neals.

Treble fell heavily to the floor, wraparound dress still over his head. I grabbed another dress and dropped down onto his back. I looped the tie around his ankle and knotted it, dress still attached. Then, while he was still trying to grab the garment off his head, I grabbed one of his flailing arms and pulled it back. I wound the other end of the tie around his wrist and then knotted that too.

“What is wrong with you?” he yelled.

“Mainly I’m tired of people trying to kill me.”

“I thought you said you believed it was him?”

“Yeah, well, I lied.”

“You lied?”

“Yep, it’s like the opposite of telling the truth,” I explained while adding another tie to the already terrible mess that was his hogtie. At least Sabrina wasn’t here to see it. She’d never let me live it down. But then, I had taken on four GBs and won. I was pretty sure she’d forgive the terrible hogtying for that.

“I know what lying is.” Treble wriggled around to see what I was doing.

“Then why ask?” I moved around the front of him so I could see his face. “What’s going on?”

“You’ve assaulted an officer of the law, that’s what’s going on.” Treble jerked his head from side to side. I assumed he was trying to find a comfortable way to move so he could see me.

“Yeah, well I’ve been attacked by at least two officers of the law, so you know what they say about payback.”

I walked around behind Treble, grabbed his free leg and dragged him toward the lift.

“What are you doing?” Treble asked, twisting and jerking, trying to look behind him.

“We’re going upstairs to talk this out. My parole officer made a good point about communication the other day. I forget exactly what it was, but it was a good point. So I thought we could all do some communicating, some murderous finger-pointing and work out who’s responsible, okay? Okay.”

I dragged Treble into the lift, rode it up to the next floor and dragged him all the way to the cluster of GBs. I dumped him facing Richards, who now looked to be wide awake.

“Okay, boys, let’s talk this through,” I said and then everyone started talking at once. I banged my metal bar on a fixture. The clanging echoed sharply around the floor. “One at a time. I’ll go first.” They all started talking again, so I banged my metal bar on the fixture again until they stopped. “I’ll go first. Now, I thought it was Janice and Treble—”

“I’m the good guy here,” Treble snapped.

I pointed my metal bar at him. “That tone is not convincing me of that. Richards has my shoe print on the side of his trouser leg, where I’m pretty sure I stomped on the person who tried to strangle me in the stockroom—”

“You stamped on my foot when I first got here,” Richards reminded me.

“Be quiet. I was about to say that although you had my shoe print on you, Treble has got scratches on his wrists where I possibly scratched the person who tried to strangle me. So, you look as guilty as him to me.”

“I told you it was him. I told you it was Treble,” Fredrickson said.

“This is what you’re basing my guilt on?” Treble ignored Fredrickson and addressed me. “Scratches? I have a cat.”

“Yeah, well, I have a bed stuffed with fifty pound notes,” I countered with a shrug.

Treble angled his head to look at me. “What?”

“I knew you were a criminal!” Neals said.

I waved my metal bar at Neals. I knew I should’ve gone for a head blow. “No, you idiot. Treble has a cat. I have a mattress full of money. I meant that I could say stuff that, in this moment, I have no way of proving either.” I turned to Treble. “And cat or no, you lied to Sean to get him out of the filing room because you don’t have a key but you knew I was in there and he wouldn’t lock me in, right?”

“Bang to rights,” Fredrickson said.

Treble nodded and tilted his head back to look up at me. “Yes, okay, that’s true, but the files were already gone. Richards had already taken them.”

“Whoa, I’m the killer now?” Richards asked.

“You were always the killer.” Treble twisted to the side so he could look at Richards. “You added an extra sheet to Janice’s file to implicate her. That’s why I said earlier that I saw her at Arrivals. To let you think that I bought your frame. But I didn’t. It was you. If we still had the files I could prove it.”

“How would I get into the filing room?” Richards asked.

“Christina lost her keys,” I supplied and turned back to Treble. “But that doesn’t prove Richards did it. And why did you tell Fredrickson I was the killer?”

“I didn’t,” Treble said.

“Yes, you did,” Fredrickson replied. “I asked you who attacked you and you said ‘Bridget Sway’.”

“I meant, you needed to find Bridget and get her to safety, you idiot,” Treble gritted out.

“Well, you didn’t say that,” Fredrickson snapped. “I asked you who attacked you and you said her name. You said she was up here. What was I supposed to think?”

“Treble, if the files didn’t implicate you then why were you looking for them?” Neals asked. “Unless you already suspected Richards, why would you even risk yourself in that filing room?”

Treble sighed and rested his forehead on the floor. “I’m I.A.”

“No! I don’t believe it,” Fredrickson said.

“He’s lying! There’s no such department,” Neals said.

“I.A.? What’s I.A.?” If it surprised the GBs it was definitely something I needed to know about.

“Independent Authority. We’re not governed by the bureau or its rules. We’re like a sort of ombudsman.” Treble spoke as if I’d dragged the words from him.

“You’re an outlaw,” Neals said. “It’s illegal to look in the files of The Fates.”

“How did you stop the laser beams from disintegrating your eyes?” Fredrickson asked.

“I’m I.A. I’m not subject to your rules or your punishments.” Treble angled his head to look at me. “I wanted to check to see if the deaths of the mediums had been ghost related. More and more murders are happening—”

“You’re preaching to the choir, there,” I interrupted.

“Some GBs, like Richards and Fredrickson, think if we had more mediums we could track and foresee better. Fredrickson is the loudest voice in the movement inside the GBs for action.”

“Then why are you blaming me?” Richards asked.

“Because Fredrickson is all mouth. He’s a great orator but he’s not about action.”

“I am all about action,” Fredrickson pipped up.

“Okay, this is getting us nowhere. Can the murderer please admit it so I can go home?” Nobody spoke. “I’m disappointed in you, murderer. This was your chance to gloat. As far as I can see, you all had opportunity and motive.”

“Ms Sway. If you check in my front pocket you’ll find my I.A. identification,” Treble said.

I frowned down at him. “Why didn’t you say that in the first place?”

“Because we’re not supposed to reveal ourselves.”

“Well, that’s convenient,” Neals said.

“He’s trying to gain your trust, Ms Sway. To get you close enough so he can hurt you. Don’t listen,” Richards said. “Head on down to the front doors. Smash the glass—you won’t be able to mist through—go to evac point B. You won’t get in trouble. I’ll vouch that I told you to do it. The Italian Gardens. Do you know where that is?”

“That’s a good idea,” Treble said. “Come back with your parole officer and some more GBs and we can sort this out.”

“Salier is still at the station,” Fredrickson volunteered. “You’ll need to send someone to get him.”

“And bring Officer Leonard back with you too,” added Neals.

I looked between them all. “Why would you all be telling me to bring reinforcements back if one of you did it? Or did all of you do it? Are the Italian Gardens really evacuation point B or is your fifth partner waiting there for me?”

“Richards is trying to trick you,” Treble said.

“Oh, as opposed to you with your last-minute identification save?” I asked and then waved my hand at all of them. “You know what? I’ve changed my mind. I don’t care which one of you did it. Officer Leonard can sort it out.”

Holding my metal bar, I picked my way between them and walked over to the escalators, scanning around me as I went. I wasn’t quite ready to believe that no more GBs were about to jump out at me. I tip-tapped cautiously down the metal steps. The coast seemed clear. As I stepped off the escalator shouting ricocheted down the column but I couldn’t make out what they were saying.

I glanced longingly at the front doors and then moved to the fitting rooms. I was done running and hiding. I was going to metal-bar-to-the-head anyone who came near me. And if they didn’t deserve it? Well, we’d deal with that later. I heard the elevator ping. I waited. And then a figure came to stand directly in front of me as if they knew where I’d be.

I pointed my metal bar at them. “I knew it was you!”

Chapter Twenty-Two

“No, you didn’t. You didn’t have a clue. And this is why they don’t let women in the GBs or any other type of law enforcement.” Richards fashioned his hand into a gun and fake shot me. “They got that right here. They’ve not succumbed to the pressures of political correctness. This is a job for men and filing is a job for women.”

I narrowed my eyes at him. “Are you serious right now? And how did you get out of that hogtie?”

Richards rolled his right shoulder back. “I dislocated my shoulder. A woman wouldn’t do that. She’d wait for her partner to come and rescue her.”

“This is a gender thing?” I snapped my fingers and pointed to him. “That’s why you always jumped in to defend me against Janice. It wasn’t about helping me it was about disregarding her authority. And that’s why you framed Janice, specifically, because she’s a woman.”

“A woman shouldn’t be in a position of power like that. You saw how she kept trying to abuse it with you. All of her fake complaints. She even tried to get those mediums blacklisted from receiving messages because one of her wards, that Olive girl, her family keeps going to them and they keep getting conned. There are procedures in place so the newly transitioned are unaware of what’s happening in the alive world. She’s not following procedure.” Richards slapped the back of one hand into the palm of another and yelled in a flash of temper. “She’s not following procedure. There are procedures in place for a reason. Procedures must be followed.”

“Yeah, but there are also procedures about who will be useful on this plane, right?” I asked.

“The Fates?” Richards scoffed. “What do they know? They’re not on the front lines.”

Something about the derision in his voice had the hairs on my arms standing up. If Treble had time to infiltrate the GBs, then this hadn’t started with Jeremy.

“These aren’t the first mediums you’ve killed, are they?” I asked. “You’ve been doing this for a while?”

“Jeremy was convenient. He happened to be here,” Richards said with a shrug. “And he was already breaking the rules by trying to get more messages from that girl with the stupid hair. We need more people who can bend the rules to get a job done.”

I frowned at him. “I thought you said people had to follow procedure?”

“People do,” Richards agreed in a disturbingly congenial tone. “And then there are other times when you need to bend the rules.”

“So, the other two mediums that were here that night?” I asked.

“I know.” Richards grinned and shook his head. “I couldn’t believe my luck. Three mediums in one place. All willing to bend the rules.”

“What about the fourth?” I asked. “And why Madame Zorina? No. I know why. You checked Olive’s file. You saw that Olive’s family had visited Madame Zorina and her husband. There was a note in Zendar the Mighty’s file, right? That he’d been fleecing families, one being Olives’. Killing him would give you another morally bankrupt medium for your team and attacking Madame Zorina as well would shove suspicion squarely on Janice and Olive. They were murdering people that had conned her parents.”

“Exactly. But you don’t get any points for working that out because I practically spoon-fed you.”

“I understand why you’d try and kill Madame Zorina, but why the husband? And if he was at Jeremy’s place with his nephew, why wouldn’t you kill the nephew?” I frowned at him. “I know you’re crazy but that seems like a huge misstep to me. You could’ve made Jeremy’s nephew’s death seem like suicide. His uncle had died. That would be reasonable.”

“This is what I mean about women being better at filing than police work. You’ve literally told me why I killed these people, but you’re still asking for an explanation.” Richards began slapping the back of his hand into his palm again to punctuate his speech. “I’m not a murderer. I don’t go around killing random people. I had no reason to kill the boy.”

“You’re killing mediums but you’re not a murderer?” I asked. I absolutely was not touching the whole Jeremy’s nephew being the Hulk of mediums if Richards didn’t already know.

“Being a woman I wouldn’t expect you to understand the complexities of the situation. Mediums are half dead already. It’s not murder. I’m simply helping them transition. I was helping Zendar the Mighty fulfil his potential. And he’ll be a great addition to the team. Even after the other mediums had transitioned he was still snooping around Jeremy’s things to try to find out how he gamed the system.”

“Okay, well, Zendar the Mighty saw you killing the others. He can identify you. So by killing him you’ve given the police a witness. If you’d left him alive they’d never have known.”

Richards laughed. “That’s not how mediums work. It’s almost a shame to kill you. I’d much rather put you on the stand so people can truly see why women should be given jobs with no responsibilities whatsoever.”

“Yeah, then I could tell them how Zendar the Mighty told me he saw you kill Magnificent Malcolm and Allseeing Eric.” Okay, so this wasn’t actually, exactly, technically true, but Richards didn’t need to know that. And I really wanted to wipe the smug expression off his face. Madame Zorina’s husband was part of the GB programme now, so he’d be protected. I was pretty sure he would be anyway. “And then you’ve got the three guys upstairs. How’re you going to explain them?”

“You’re crazy, Bridget,” Richards said with a shrug. The way he said my name had goosebumps rippling all over my skin. “Janice tried to kill you in the stockroom just like you told her ward. I heard you accusing her like you accused everyone else.”

“How?”

“I was in the stockroom the whole time. I just kept tunnelling out of your line of sight waiting for a good time to finish the job.” Richards said it like it was an obvious answer. “As for the boys upstairs. I came back to look for you and found that you’d already killed them. I had to subdue you. Unfortunately, that ended in your death. No one will question it. Everyone knows you’re crazy. You’ll be news for a day or two but people will carry on with their lives. They’ll forget you. They’ll move on.”

That last comment struck me like a slap to my face. Things I’d thought I was okay with. With my parents. With my dad coming back. But I wasn’t. I wasn’t okay with him coming back and playing house with my mam now I wasn’t in the way. I wasn’t okay that they were going back to the way things were before I was born. I wasn’t okay that I couldn’t wear high heels anymore. I wasn’t okay that I couldn’t wear a fitted dress like Olive anymore because I was always running for my life. I wasn’t okay that I was applying eyeliner with a homemade brush. And I wasn’t okay that I still didn’t have a damn watch.

A high-pitched scream that sounded a lot like a war cry echoed around the store. Richards’ face blanched and I realised it was coming from me. And then I pulled my anger for all the things the afterlife had stolen from me and charged at him.

He watched my approach and made no effort to defend himself. I was still a couple of feet away when I leapt at him. In my head I imagined I looked like a house cat. In reality I must have looked like the crazy woman he’d accused me of being because terror flashed over Richards’ face. Over the face of a multi-murderer. Fury quickly replaced it. He tried to sidestep, but it was too late and I was on him.

We hit the ground. The breath left him in a grunt. He tried to twist away to get some leverage but I rolled to the side and yanked his arm, the one with the shoulder he’d dislocated. I put my feet against his ribs and used them to push me away while yanking his arm out straight. He yelled in pain and rolled to his side. I tried to stomp my feet against his ribs but I’d pushed him too far away to do any real damage. Then he made the mistake of leaning over me. I had a vision of him smashing my head into the floor and that was it.

I pulled my knee back and let my foot fly toward his face. It hit him square in the nose. The sound of crunching bone echoed around the fitting rooms and he grunted in pain. I scrambled to my feet. Richards wiped his upper lip and his hand came away bloody. He looked up at me and I was pretty sure it was just pure crazy behind his eyes. He spat some blood on the floor next to him.

“That’s uncouth.”

“I’m glad you tried, Bridget.” Richards grinned at me, blood all over his teeth. “Makes it look more believable.” Richards grabbed his nose with both hands and adjusted it. Almost as if he were trying to realign it. My stomach flipped. “Let’s go again.”

And then he strode toward me. I scanned the area for something to use to defend myself with. I dumped some dresses onto the floor and pulled off another metal arm. He was almost on me. I raised the metal bat ready to swing. Richards paused a few feet in front of me for several seconds.

And then he lunged for me. Too fast for me to swing. Both his hands around my neck. I dropped the bat, gripped his wrists and lifted my feet off the floor. Richards was ready this time. He opened his stance to support my weight and didn’t let go. I swung my legs, trying to kick his shins. I landed a couple of blows but he held on. Black spots flicked up all over my vision. This was it. I was dead. Again. And people’s lives were going to move on without me.

But I would be moving on too. I would get to check out the next level of the afterlife well before Sabrina. She was not going to be happy about that. Would I be able to call across planes to speak to her? To my housemates? To Oz? If I were on another plane, then I wouldn’t be his ward anymore. Maybe we could go out on a date. No, that would never work out. But maybe …

Pain shot through my ankle as I landed on the floor. I sucked down gulp after gulp of air. And there was squealing. A lot of squealing. Had being strangled damaged my hearing?

I blinked my eyes open and tried to angle my head as if to drain the sound out of one ear. Edith’s face loomed up in front of mine.

“Are you okay, dear?” Edith asked, her hands on either side of my face as she tilted it around. She dipped her head so she could look at my neck and then tilted my face back to hers. “Bridget?”

I gave her a nod. She stared into my face for a moment and then disappeared. And then I saw where the screaming was coming from. My housemates were climbing over Richards like a swarm of ants. At least I assumed it was Richards. I couldn’t see anything through the mess of limbs.

“Bridget’s alive,” Anna announced from the side of the melee. I wasn’t surprised to see that she wasn’t involved. My housemates peeled off him and launched toward me. I saw Richards try to get up. Kate aimed a flat-footed kick into the side of his knee. He cried out, dropped to his knees and then she swung her fist at his face. He toppled like a tree. If I’d have been able I’d had cheered.

Not only because he’d been incapacitated by a group of women but because punching a GB in the face must have felt amazing to Kate.

“Bridget!” The slapping of Oz’s flip-flops echoed down the escalators. He got to the bottom and took in the whole scene. Kate standing guard over an unconscious Richards, who she’d rolled onto his side so he didn’t choke on his own blood, which was more than I’d have done. Anna holding up the wraparound dress and admiring her reflection. Petal wrapped around me as if I were her favourite cuddly toy, Pam trying to examine my injuries and Lucy patting me on the head, scowling as she scanned the rest of the shop floor as if looking for more threats.

“Leonard!” Oz roared. Like, literally roared.

I felt like everything on the shop floor vibrated. Or maybe that was just my head.

“Are you okay?” Oz called to Kate as he jogged over to us and she nodded.

“I’m okay too.” Anna declared as she waded into the dress section.

Oz eased Petal off me and helped me to my feet. He moved my collar out of the way to get a good look at my neck. I smiled and patted his shoulder. It was okay. Richards was down. Everything was okay.

Oz gave a small shake of his head. “That’s not the point.”

I shrugged. And then movement over Oz’s shoulder caught my attention. Officer Leonard was hovering over Richards and saying something to Kate. Oz was still cataloguing my injuries. I tapped him on the shoulder and pointed. His head whipped around.

“It appears Ms Green has broken her parole restrictions by attacking a member of the GBs, Officer Salier. I’m going to have to take her with me,” Officer Leonard called to us.

Kate squared her shoulders and focused her attention into the distance.

“I did it,” I said. At least I tried to but it came out as a croak. And it hurt.

“What was that, Ms Sway?” Officer Leonard asked.

“I did it,” I said, stumbling over and standing directly in front of Kate. Petal moved up and stood next to me, holding me up and making sure to keep Kate behind us.

“Is that what he is going to say when he wakes up?” Officer Leonard asked.

“He killed people,” I croaked. “Who cares what he says? Who are you going to believe? Me or him?”

“You understand there will be repercussions?” Officer Leonard asked.

“Like ice cream?” I asked hopefully.

“He was strangling her when we got here. Bridget defended herself,” Lucy said as she strolled over to us, still scanning the store. She stood on my other side and kicked Richards’ foot.

“You can’t punish her for not letting him kill her,” Petal said. “That’s not right.”

“Did you break his nose, too?” Officer Leonard asked me as he crouched down to examine Richards’ face.

I nodded with a grin. I was proud of that. I couldn’t wait to tell Sabrina. Officer Leonard arched an eyebrow at my grin and I dimmed it a little to a more appropriate, less psychotic, level.

“Who did he admit to killing?” Officer Leonard asked as he beckoned an unfamiliar GB over. The GB placed a hand on Richards and they disappeared.

“Jeremy, Magnificent Malcolm, Allseeing Eric, Zendar the Mighty.” It was hard to talk but I needed to get it all out. “And he admitted to attacking Madame Zorina to deflect the blame onto Janice. He faked a form in the records office. And he’s killed other mediums before this.”

For the first time since I’d know him the amiable smile dropped from Officer Leonard’s face. “What do you mean before this?”

“He thinks that the GBs need more male mediums so he’s been killing people for a while,” I said.

“Well, that’s creepy,” Lucy muttered. “I thought you were meant to be the good guys.”

“I’m taking everyone home now,” Oz announced. “We’ll come and give statements tomorrow morning.”

“Anna. We’re going,” Pam called.

“Okay.” Anna made her way over to us. Officer Leonard’s eyes narrowed on the three dresses she was holding. She lifted them for him to see better. “I brought these with me in case anyone needed a change of clothes.”

Lucy shook her head at Anna. “You’re such a klepto.”

“What’s a klepto?” asked Petal.

“Someone who can’t help stealing,” Pam whispered back.

“We’re going.” Oz gestured for everyone to hold hands. We did and he tunnelled us into the back garden. “You all go inside. I’m going to take Bridget to a doctor to get checked. Will one of you make sure Katie ices her hand, please?”

“She prefers to be called Kate,” Pam informed Oz.

“Is that right?” Oz asked. “Then will one of you make sure Kate has some ice for her hand?”

“Can’t we come with you?” Petal asked.

“I don’t want to go,” Anna said.

“Guys, come on. Cut me some slack here,” Oz said.

“Okay.” Petal hugged me and then tentatively reached out a hand to Kate. Kate looked at it. She didn’t take it but she stepped closer to Petal and they walked toward the house together with Pam and Lucy following closely behind. Shockingly, Anna had already gone inside.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Oz tunnelled us to what reminded me of a dentist’s waiting room. Everything from the carpet to the sofa to the walls was mint green. Maybe it was the minty fresh idea that made me think dentist, not doctor. We sat in the empty waiting room.

“Are you okay?” Oz asked.

“My throat hurts,” I whispered. “And my neck.”

“I’m sure. Anything else?” Oz was eyeing me as if I’d broken my legs and was lying about it for some reason.

I held up the whistle. “Well, I’d like a more reliable method of communication, please? And I don’t want to go shopping anymore.”

Oz laughed. “I’m going to need that in writing. And we’ll see what we can do about this.” Oz tugged on the whistle.

“Are you mad at me?” I asked.

“You did everything right here. As much as you could.” Oz put his arm around my shoulders and I leaned into the sideways hug, resting my head on his shoulder. For a long minute, I felt at peace. We sat in silence. Everything hurt. Everything.

“And Kate is making an effort. How did you manage that?”

“I’m amazing.”

“I know. But that wasn’t what I asked.”

I lifted my head off his shoulder to grin at him. He looked down at me and held my gaze for a long moment.

“Bridget?”

Oz and I both jumped and separated. I turned to see Alexander standing in the doorway.

“Oh, Bridget!” Alexander crossed the floor in three strides and picked me up off the chair and wrapped me up in an extremely painful hug. “I don’t know how you did it but I know you did it. I know you made them let me go. And I did just like you said. When they abducted me I asked for my parole officer.” Alexander released me and held me at arm’s length. He saw my neck and grimaced. “That looks sore. How did that happen?”

I shrugged. And half turned to introduce Oz to Alexander and motioned for Oz to explain. He did, briefly and to numerous gasps from Alexander.

It turned out that Treble had been supposed to take me to evac point B. And despite my housemates loudly questioning Officer Leonard about my absence, he had decided to wait to check on me until Oz returned from the police station. When Officer Leonard finally dropped the blocking, everyone had tunnelled to save me. Oz had, accurately but tardily, assumed I’d be hiding in the lingerie section so that’s where he tunnelled to, but Anna convinced my housemates that I’d be at the fitting rooms trying clothes on and ignoring the fire alarm.

Officer Leonard had tunnelled to rescue his GB brethren who, for some reason, Richards hadn’t killed before he came after me. I interpreted that to mean, despite me being a woman, he considered me more of a threat. I took just a little bit of pride in that.

I left Oz trying to reassure a sobbing Alexander I was fine when the doctor called me in. By the time we got back home Pam had helped Kate to finish making the cheesecake and it was setting in the fridge. Petal offered to scoop me some out, despite Pam’s protests and Kate’s scowls, but the doctor had filled me full of apricots, the afterlife version of painkillers, so I was feeling pretty queasy. And I was too tired to do anything other than go straight to bed. My housemates were banished from my room for a night or two on doctor’s orders so no one accidentally slept on me and damaged me. Maybe it was because the apricots had knocked me out or because I had the whole bed to myself for a change or because I wasn’t worried Kate was going to murder me or anyone else in the house while we slept but I woke up early. Like super early.

I left a note for Oz and went for a walk along the beach. I had intended to visit my parents but something my mam had said about me haunting them made me reconsider. I was on my third cup of tea and second dose of apricots when Sabrina sat next to me in the canteen.

“Okay, so I know you don’t want to investigate but I really think we need to look into the GBs as suspects. Definitely this Treble.”

I frowned at her. “What?”

“I was pulled in by the GBs yesterday for pretty much no reason and then released late last night with no explanation for anything.” Sabrina paused with her coffee halfway to her mouth. “Why are you looking at me like that? I know we said we wouldn’t investigate but—”

“Yeah, so, Richards did it,” I said and stirred some sugar into my tea. Those apricots might be an awesome painkiller but I just did not like the aftertaste.

“Did what? Which one was Richards?”

“Richards.” I fashioned my hand into a gun and fake shot her.

She frowned at me. “The one from our first GA meeting? What did he do? Wait, he’s Treble’s partner, right? So that means—”

I squinted in her face trying to work out if she was having me on. “Do you really not know?”

“Know what?” Sabrina’s eyes darted around the canteen looking for answers. “What? I was released last night and Shirley locked us all in our rooms for ‘safety’s sake’ and you’re the first person I’ve seen that I know. What happened? Did you find another body?”

“Make yourself comfortable,” I said and then explained the events of the previous night. And then Charlie and Pete turned up in the middle of my story so I had to start again to a backdrop of complaining from Sabrina.

“I’m going to look into this whole Officer Leonard thing,” Sabrina announced, as we wandered along the hallway toward the tunnelling room. “There is something so fishy about him.”

“You think there’s something fishy about everyone,” I retorted.

“Don’t you think it’s weird that he keeps dragging you into these things? And, so far, there have been no repercussions either. Don’t you think it’s weird? I think it’s weird. I think something else is going on. Something huge that we don’t understand.”

“You think there’s some sort of conspiracy going on?” I asked. “That is so unlike you.”

Sabrina wagged her finger at me. “Mock me now, but you wait. You’ll be laughing on the other side of your face when I find proof.”

“If you’re right, I’m pretty sure I won’t be laughing on any side of my face. And how about you don’t look into this for now? How about we try to go a week without getting in any sort of trouble?”

Sabrina pointed to my eyes. “I think you should start wearing the eyeliner again. Eyeliner Bridget would be all for this.”

“Well, Eyeliner Bridget isn’t the one hyped up on dried apricots, so she can just mind her damn own business.”

“You know you’re talking about yourself in the third person, right?” Sabrina asked as she positioned herself onto a tunnelling circle.

“Shut up.” I pointed a finger right in her face as she tunnelled. “And don’t investigate!”

Sabrina cupped her hand around her ear as she disappeared,

“Yeah, you heard me just fine,” I mumbled to myself as I tunnelled to Arrivals. Sean was pacing across the entrance to the room and mumbling to himself, as if he were rehearsing a speech.

“Morning,” I called to him as I stepped off the tunnelling circle.

Sean’s head whipped in my direction. His face lit up with a gut churning amount of happiness as he saw me. “Bridget!” He ran across the room and practically launched on me. I stumbled backward a step under the assault.

“Everything okay?” I asked when he finally released me.

“Thanks to you. It was you who made the GBs release me, wasn’t it?” Sean held up his hand. “Don’t answer that. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have jumped on you—I know you’re not a fan of excessive emotional outbursts but I am immensely grateful.”

“What makes you think I had anything to do with it?” I asked.

“The GB who released me implied that you’d found evidence to exonerate me.” Sean tugged on the sleeve of my jumpsuit to make sure he had my attention. “I am very appreciative of your help, Bridget.”

I nodded and took a step back before all his gratitude leaked over me. First Alexander and now Sean. Why would Officer Leonard, if it had been him who had released them, make a point of saying that?

Sean must have recognised it was time to stop because he took a step back and pointed the corner of his clipboard at me. “This doesn’t mean you get off easy today, though. We have a new group to induct, so let’s get to it.” Sean spun on one foot and did a happy-hoppy dance as he made his way out of the tunnelling room and along the corridor. I followed. I didn’t do the happy-hoppy dance, though.

The Bus of Death was circling the carpark when we made it down to greet the busload of newly transitioned. Charon must’ve seen us because he pulled out of his loop and turned the bus in our direction. It careened on two wheels with the sharpness of the turn and then slapped back down. I wasn’t sure if it was the tyres or my imagination, but I thought I’d heard screams.

The bus screeched to a halt in front of us. The doors sprang open and passengers poured out. They literally tripped down the steps in their hurry to get off. Sean scurried over to help them up.

“My little Bridget,” Charon called from the driver’s seat and waved to me. “Did everything work out last night?”

“Yes, and thank you for your help with it,” I called back over the heads of the still disembarking passengers. Charon waved me to him and I gestured to the still disembarking passengers. “Do you want me to climb over them?”

Sean’s head shot up from the passenger he was helping. “Bridget, no. Health and safety.”

“I was being sarcastic, Sean. I would never climb over people.”

Sean nodded. “Oh, okay. Good.”

“I’m pretty sure you would,” Charon said as I dodged the last escaping passenger and climbed the stairs of the bus to see what he wanted.

“In certain circumstances, perhaps,” I said, checking over my shoulder to make sure Sean didn’t hear. “So, what’s up?”

Charon shrugged. It was the worst attempt at casual I’d seen in a long time. “How’s your friend?”

I checked over my shoulder again. “Sean? Fine. Why? Oh, he wanted me to ask you if you’d take him inside a volcano but otherwise he’s okay. I think.”

“Did he now?” Charon peered through the windscreen at Sean. “What’s in it for me?”

“Good karma.”

“Karma isn’t a currency.”

“Says you.”

“Says everyone.” Charon leaned back in his seat and grinned at me. “How about a favour?”

I narrowed my eyes at him. “What do you want?”

“Nothing right this second. A future favour.”

I shrugged. “Sure. But I reserve the right to refuse it if I think it’s going to get me in trouble with Oz.”

“Not the police? Not the GBs? Not people you don’t currently know?”

I shook my head. “Nope, just Oz.”

“Deal.” Charon held out his hand to me.

I looked at it and arched an eyebrow at him. “Why do I suddenly feel I’ve made a deal with the devil?”

Charon snorted and slapped his hand into mine. Then he tapped on the windscreen and crooked a finger at Sean. Hesitantly, Sean came to stand by the open doors of the bus.

Charon made a shooing motion. “Off, my little Bridget. And watch out for that friend of yours.”

I tripped down the last step and Sean caught me as I spun back to face Charon. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“All aboard who’s coming aboard,” Charon said, crooking his finger at Sean.

“Bridget?” Sean looked to me, to Charon, then back to me as he stepped up the first step.

“It’s fine, Sean, he’ll take good care of you.” I pointed at Charon. “Won’t you?”

Charon grinned, pulled on a lever and the doors to the bus closed.

∞

I made it through the whole morning without worrying too much, but by the time it got to the end of the day and Sean still hadn’t returned I was beginning to get slightly concerned. I knew that Charon knew I liked Sean, so he wouldn’t damage him on purpose. But that didn’t mean he wouldn’t damage him by accident.

Just when I was about to whistle Oz, for no other reason than I didn’t really know what else to do, Sean burst through the door of the induction suite. He was filthy. Sooty. Sweaty. And a little bit singed. And smoking. As if he’d been so close to an open flame and it was still trying to devour his clothes.

“Are you … okay?” I asked. A couple of newly transitioned turned to glance in his direction but otherwise no one took any notice.

Sean’s face split into a disturbingly wide smile. I wasn’t sure if it was genuine happiness or hysteria. “I have had the best day ever!” Then he lunged forward and hugged me. I had no hope of fending him off. “I am so glad you’re dead.”

∞

“Now, everyone please remember what I said.” Eleanor glanced around our garden and made eye contact with each one of my housemates and Sabrina. In fact, she might have looked Sabrina’s way more than once. “These are self-defence moves only. None of you are proficient enough to take on an attacker, so your first choice should always be to run.”

“One at a time, can you all please repeat that.” Oz spoke from behind us and pointed to Lucy, who was at the far left to start. He’d been observing Eleanor’s self-defence lessons from the patio in silence.

After I’d made the excellent point that we all needed to be able to defend ourselves and that Eleanor had some crazy-ninja skills, Oz had agreed to let me ask Eleanor to teach us. I’d approached her after our GA meeting and Eleanor had nearly fallen over herself to help. It seemed I was all about making people happy today. Made me feel a little queasy. As if I was setting a behaviour bar at a level I was worried I might never hit again. Or the queasiness could just have been dried apricot overdose.

Eleanor drew the session to a close. It had mostly been stretching and some strength training exercises, but the way my housemates were limping toward the house you’d have thought she’d put us through a full workout.

There was a mass of hugging that neither Kate nor Anna took part in and then Eleanor tunnelled Sabrina home despite Sabrina’s protests that she could get herself there.

“That went well,” Oz said to me as my housemates traipsed past him into the house.

I nodded. “I thought so.”

“You don’t seem to be in any pain.” Oz gestured to me in general. “Maybe it’s time to dial down the apricots?”

“I think that’s the reason I’m not in pain.”

“Did you have a good day?” Oz asked, not commenting further on the prospect of taking my apricots away as he pushed up from the deckchair and headed toward the kitchen with me.

I shrugged. “It was okay.”

“Okay,” he said with a smile. He didn’t push me for details. “Early night?”

“I think so,” I said with a nod and stepped into the empty kitchen. “Looks like everybody else had the same idea. Need me to help you lock up?”

“I can do it. You head on up,” Oz said as he bolted the kitchen door.

I made it up the stairs, gave my face the quickest wash ever and then dived into bed. I woke what felt like seconds later with the nagging feeling someone was watching me. At first, my groggy mind thought it was one of my housemates, but they would’ve just climbed on the bed. They wouldn’t be watching me from the shadows. Since I was in my room and couldn’t really run anywhere, as Eleanor had directed, I opened my mouth to scream for Oz.

“Don’t freak out, Bridget, it’s only me,” Tommy said and I choked my impending scream off.

“Yeah, I am actually going to freak out, Tommy, because it’s the middle of the night and you’re in my bedroom.” I sat up and pointed a finger at him as something came back to me. “And I saw you standing over Jeremy’s body. With Edith. Edith, who turned up directly after I’d been strangled and then disappeared, which made me think I didn’t see her but I totally did. I swear, if you two have been murdering people this whole time and super cleverly managing to pin it on other people I’m going to be so mad at you both.”

“Why do you always think I’m a murderer?” Tommy asked.

“Because you’re sneaky. And oh-so-likeable. And I notice you not denying Edith’s involvement.”

Tommy laughed quietly and nodded as if I’d scored a point. “Well, this is work related.”

I nodded. “Sure it is. Are we talking about your work as a multi-murderer?”

“It’s time to change assignments, Bridget,” Tommy said.

“I’ve only started at Arrivals. How can it be time to change already?” I was just getting used to Sean.

“I know the GB you know as Treble mentioned the I.A.,” Tommy said, but it was more of a statement than question.

“I know that Fredrickson said it wasn’t real.”

Tommy inclined his head. “We like to try and keep covert.”

I made a noncommittal noise. “So what is the new job? I know you don’t want me to get up and go to work now.”

“The I.A. is—”

“Is Edith I.A.?”

Tommy nodded. “She is. She’s one of our best operatives. She was the one who suggested we vet you.”

“Vet me?”

“You’re an ideal candidate. All of your friends are well placed to help you with—what are you doing?” Tommy asked as I dragged a dressing gown around me, then climbed out of bed. I held up a finger and crossed the room. Tommy stepped in front of me. “Where are you going?”

“I’m going to get Oz.”

Tommy shook his head. “This is covert, Bridget. He can’t know about this.”

“Uh-huh, and how are you going to keep it from him? That man is like a magnet for secrets. Or a hoover. Maybe hoover is a better description.”

“I’m not going to keep it from him. You are. You’re going to pretend you’re going about your normal VTP life. You’re going to hide this from everyone.”

I folded my arms. I did not like the sound of this. “What if I say no?”

“Bridget, I wouldn’t be extending the offer if I had any doubts that this is what you’re looking for. What you need to feel fulfilled.”

“Uh-huh. And what exactly does the I.A. do?”

“We investigate things.”

“Like?”

Tommy shrugged. “Things.”

“Ohhhh, you investigate things? Awesome, I’m totally up for investigating things.”

“Come on, Bridget, you know what I mean,” Tommy said with an indulgent smile.

“Oh, do I? You mean like Watson or Kate’s escape or Jeremy’s death? Those things? ’Cause you guys did an amazing job there.”

“No, but you did.” Tommy inclined his head. “With some help from well-placed friends.”

“No, that was—is Officer Leonard I.A.?”

Tommy shook his head. “I can’t talk about I.A. officers to non I.A. officers.”

“Are you making these rules up as you go because you just told me Edith was I.A.?”

“Are you interested?” Tommy asked.

“Let’s just say I am …”

“I feel like there’s a qualifier here.”

“You’re right. I’m interested but I need to discuss this with Oz first. And probably Sabrina.”

Tommy shook his head. “No.”

“Oz is not going to tell anyone and neither is Sabrina. And both of them are horrifically adept at ferreting out secrets. Sabrina was a private investigator and Oz—I don’t even know what he was—but, honestly, I have no secrets from that man no matter how hard I try. And I try.”

“They can’t know, so if you want in I suggest you try harder,” Tommy said.

“Then I suggest you let yourself out the way you came in.” I turned my back on him and was about to climb back into bed when something occurred to me. “You aren’t going to kill me now, right? Because you offered and I declined and you have to keep it super secret?”

“Are those your terms? Your parole officer and Sabrina?”

I felt like Tommy was caving. “Yes. And I reserve the right to tell anyone about this if them not knowing will put them in danger.”

“So, basically, you want to tell everyone you know?”

“Not everyone,” I said. “But Oz and Sabrina are deal-breakers. You can’t agree to that then …” I let the sentence hang while I shrugged.

“I’ll concede to one.”

“No. It’s both or nothing, and don’t think I don’t know how negotiations work. You already knew they would be my demands before you came in, so you pretending that you’re not sure whether you’re going to agree or not is embarrassing for you and wasting my sleepy time.”

“I do like you, Bridget.”

“Will you please stop saying that? I keep thinking you’re going to murder me.” I walked across the room.

“Where are you going now?”

“To get Oz,” I said and opened my door to find Oz waiting on the other side. His hair was mussed and his shorts and T-shirt were rumpled as if he’d been sleeping. “Who is already here.” I turned back to Tommy. “Do you see what I mean about a secret ferreter?”

“You should’ve come to me first,” Oz told Tommy as he stepped past me into the room.

“I knew Bridget would want to tell you and you know it has to be her decision. So, are you onboard?” Tommy asked me.

I looked to Oz. I liked the sound of investigating things. In a semi legal way. Of new and exciting challenges. But I didn’t know enough about this stuff to make that decision for myself. Oz was always telling me this and for the first time I could almost see that he had a point.

“We’re going to need to talk this through,” Oz said.

Tommy shook his head. “That’s not how this works. I need an answer before I leave. There’s no leeway on that.”

Oz gestured to the chair by my dressing table. “Then take a seat because I have a lot of questions.”

“I’m not answerable to you.”

“Maybe not but I’m pretty sure that you have to answer my questions,” I said. “This is the afterlife, after all. I’m pretty sure there’s a heap of protocols you have to work through.”

Tommy pulled the chair out and sat down. “Okay, Bridget. What are your questions?”

I turned to Oz. “What are my questions?”

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Table of Contents

- DEAD AND BURIED
- Chapter One
- Chapter Two
- Chapter Three
- Chapter Four
- Chapter Five
- Chapter Six
- Chapter Seven
- Chapter Eight
- Chapter Nine
- Chapter Ten
- Chapter Eleven
- Chapter Twelve
- Chapter Thirteen
- Chapter Fourteen
- Chapter Fifteen
- Chapter Sixteen
- Chapter Seventeen
- Chapter Eighteen
- Chapter Nineteen
- Chapter Twenty
- Chapter Twenty-One
- Chapter Twenty-Two
- Chapter Twenty-Three