Dead and Buried: A Bridget Sway Novel (A Paranormal Ghost Cozy Mystery Series Book 4)

by Jordaina Sydney Robinson

  “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 cou
ld 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.