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 office
r. 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 h
anging 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.
Dead and Buried: A Bridget Sway Novel (A Paranormal Ghost Cozy Mystery Series Book 4) Page 2