Beyond Dead: A Bridget Sway Novel (A Paranormal Ghost Cozy Mystery Series)

by Jordaina Sydney Robinson

  “I don’t know. I’d only worked with him—”

  “For two days. Right. Did you ever see him argue with anyone?” He smiled but his I’m-a-nice-guy-but-not-too-well-informed routine was putting me on edge.

  “No.” I felt that was almost the truth. He hadn’t been arguing with Pete, Pete had been having a go at him. And whoever he was speaking to last night, I didn’t technically see them to say he was arguing with them. So I was being honest. Just.

  “Right, well if you can think of anything that might be useful, please contact me.” He offered me his card and stood up.

  “How come you’re investigating Fenton’s death? I thought you guys only dealt with, like, haunty things,” I said.

  “We deal with all manner of crimes, Ms Sway.”

  Just before they poofed out of the room, I got my first proper look at his partner’s face. Despite the mask, I recognised him.

  ∞

  “Fenton was a Ghosting Buster informant?” Sabrina slapped her forehead. “I’m such an idiot. Of course he was. That was why they let him off with parole.”

  It was lunchtime when Johnson finally released me. I’d found a table in the back corner of the canteen so I could fill Sabrina in on my morning, hopefully without being overheard or interrupted.

  “I’m not certain—”

  “It looks that way, though. They still think you killed him?”

  “I don’t think so, no. Or maybe.” I shook my head. “With these idiots who knows?”

  “I wonder what was in that book.” Sabrina stabbed a carrot with her fork and nibbled it thoughtfully.

  I placed the small notebook on the table. “Why don’t we look?”

  Sabrina stared at me. “Did you purposefully withhold evidence from the police and über-police?”

  I shook my head, eyes wide and innocent. “Absolutely not.”

  A huge grin stretched across Sabrina’s face and she placed one hand over mine and the other over her heart. “I love you so much.” She grabbed the book and flicked through it discreetly under the table for thirty seconds before looking back up at me. “A5S21206D2389? Okay, this is in code. This is going to take some time to work out.”

  “Ah, well, I figured A5 meant the area, as in where the incident took place, S2 meant suspect two, and the next four digits could be the date.”

  Sabrina stared at me. “What were you in life?”

  “I was an event planner. I used a similar short hand to identify functions in my organiser.” My voice shook slightly when I mentioned my organiser. I missed my organiser.

  “They could be laws.” Sabrina squinted again at the digits. “That would make sense. The place, the suspect, the date and the law that was broken.”

  “Yeah, it would. But we don’t know who the suspects are or the laws the digits refer to.”

  “I can find out the laws easily enough. We have a catalogue of them in our office.”

  “Yes, but we don’t know who the suspects are and, honestly, if Fenton was killed for his snooping, I’m not eager to pick up where he left off.”

  “We owe it to him to find out what happened to him.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “I’m not even entirely sure I liked him.”

  “That’s a fair point.” Sabrina nodded. “Let me rephrase. We need to find out who killed him to stop them from killing you.”

  I smiled and patted her arm. “You always know how to make me feel better.”

  “It’s a gift.”

  “Oh.” I snapped my fingers. My memory was terrible lately. I’d have to ask Eleanor if that was a dead thing. “Also, we need to be on our best behaviour in our meetings from now on.”

  Smelling new information, Sabrina’s head shot up. “Why?”

  “Because David, the frowny brown suit guy? He’s a GB.”

  “I told you. How do you find this stuff out?”

  “He was one of the GBs who interviewed me today.”

  She snorted gently. “Bet that was awkward.”

  “He let his partner do the talking.” I sipped my coke thoughtfully. “I got the impression he hadn’t told him that we had our meetings together.”

  “Wonder why. Oh!” Sabrina slapped the table. “In all the excitement I nearly forgot. I found Barry.”

  “Barry?” I knew that name.

  Sabrina glanced up from the notebook again. “Madame Zorina’s dead client?”

  “Ahhh.” In all the drama I’d clean forgotten about that. I was definitely checking with Eleanor about my memory. Maybe there were vitamins I could take.

  “He’s staying in a medical facility. I thought we could pay him a quick visit after our meeting tonight, ask him what happened to him.”

  “I like how I say ‘we need to be on our best behaviour’ and in your next breath you’re describing a plan that’s breaking at least three rules and probably more we don’t know about.” I took a large bite of my chicken panini and took a moment to savour the taste of all the carbohydrates.

  “Where’s your sense of adventure?” Sabrina cajoled, carefully slicing up the ham in her salad into equal strips.

  I gave a one shoulder shrug and swallowed my mouthful. “It’s busy praying the GBs aren’t going to arrest me for something.”

  “It’ll be fine.” She waved her fork dismissively. “We’ll go straight after our meeting, ask him a few questions and be home before anyone notices we’re late.”

  “I’m not sure …”

  “It’ll be fine. What could possibly go wrong?”

  I raised a disbelieving eyebrow. “Really?”

  She wrapped a small portion of lettuce up in a neatly cut ham slice. “What?”

  I wiped my hands on my napkin. “Are you honestly oblivious to the fact you have just jinxed us?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous.”

  “Okay.” I gestured to her with my panini. “But when something goes wrong I’m reserving the right to say ‘I told you so’.”

  “Nothing is going to go wrong,” Sabrina repeated, suddenly sounding a lot less confident.

  “You ladies look deep in conversation.” Charlie hovered at the edge of our table while Pete sat down and started eating. “Do you mind if we join you?”

  I gestured to the empty seats. “’Course not, Charlie.”

  Pete swallowed his enormous mouthful of lasagne and jabbed his fork in my direction. “Rumour has it you’ve had quite the exciting morning.”

  “Another body in your locker?” Charlie added, sitting down and sipping his coffee.

  “Ruined another jumpsuit,” I grumbled while discreetly pocketing Fenton’s notebook. “They’re going to start deducting it from my wages at this rate.”

  Pete snorted. “That’s what I love best about you, Bridge. Your humanitarianism.”

  “Do they know what happened yet?” Charlie asked.

  “Blow to the head.” Sabrina pushed her half eaten salad away.

  Charlie grimaced and glanced down at his tomato soup. “Oh.”

  “Do they have any leads?” Pete tore off a chunk of bread and dipped it in his lasagne.

  “Only me.” I smiled.

  “Well, dead bodies do keep turning up in your locker,” Pete pointed out. “Though it makes me wonder what happens in the ladies’ locker room to get these guys in there in the first place. So, who do you think’s doing it?” Pete asked Sabrina and me between mouthfuls.

  “Since you threatened Fenton the day before I think it’s you.” Sabrina calmly sipped her orange juice while Pete nearly choked.

  “I appreciate honesty in a woman,” Pete managed between coughs.

  “I appreciate non-homicidal tendencies in a man.” Sabrina retorted without missing a beat. “So why were you threatening him?”

  “I wasn’t threatening him,” Pete said, taking a sip of water. “I was explaining that he should be training Bridge properly.”

  “Uh-huh,” Sabrina said with a slow nod. “So who do you think it is?”

  “Steve from account
ing. Or maybe Tim from middle management.” Pete pointed out his suspects around the room whilst he spoke. “Or Eve who runs the service floor.”

  “Why them?” I had no clue who any of these people were but they seemed like random choices.

  Pete shrugged. “Steve only ever opens his mouth to complain, Eve is a little power mad and Tim just looks shifty.”

  “Excellent reasoning. With skills like that you should consider a career in law enforcement,” I said.

  “Without a motive, the suspect pool is pretty wide.” Pete gestured to the rest of the heaving canteen. “The only motive I can see is to get your area, which makes you the only non-suspect since it’s already your area.”

  That had occurred to me too. “If that’s the motive, it also makes me next on the killer’s list.”

  Pete grinned. “I wasn’t going to say that. But yeah, it does.”

  “What’s so special about my area?” So far I’d not seen anything that I’d kill for.

  “You have the highest concentration of mediums,” Pete explained.

  “Oh. Right. Okay,” I said with a nod and turned to Charlie. “What’s so special about my area?”

  Charlie laughed. “Most areas have a couple but yours has something like twenty-ish. Facilitators are around people all the time but can never interact, and that sort of isolation can be tough. Mediums acknowledge you, you can have a conversation. Though you’re not supposed to,” he added quickly.

  “Oh.” I was a little disappointed with that explanation. It wasn’t as if I’d been hoping for buried treasure but that reason seemed a little mundane. And the best reason to happily hand over my area to someone else, anyone else, since I’d only met one medium so far and she was giving me more than enough trouble.

  Charlie read my expression. “Give it a year. You’ll understand then.”

  Pete winked at me. “If she lasts a year.”

  “Not funny,” Sabrina chided in a singsong voice.

  “You finished?” Pete asked, reaching to take my tray.

  “I guess.” I looked down at my half eaten panini. My conscience wouldn’t let me eat any more anyway. “Why?”

  “Because I’m chaperoning you this afternoon, kid, and we have lots to get through. Come on.”

  Pete headed off to take our trays to the food hatch, expecting me to follow. Sabrina squeezed my knee, subtly fingering the chain around her neck. She was reminding me I had Oz’s whistle. Guess she wasn’t kidding when she’d said she thought it was Pete.

  ∞

  “Okay, this is the last one and then we can call it a day.” Pete flipped through the sheet.

  He’d been surprisingly helpful, apart from demanding we take it in turns to tunnel each other so I could practice. He’d let me get on with all the assignments and offered advice where necessary. Also, there’d been no hint of homicidal tendencies, which I’d been extra pleased about.

  “It’s a medium.” He nodded to several posters advertising Jeremy Thomas Leith’s prowess plastered on the side of the theatre. “Are you okay doing those?”

  “Yeah.” I nodded but it must have sounded as unconvincing as it felt. After Madame Zorina I wasn’t eager to find myself in another situation where they could summon me anytime they wanted.

  “Y’know what?” Pete handed me the sheet so I could read the assignment. “These beggars can be tricky, so I’ll hover in the background and you signal me if you need help.”

  Pete tunnelled us into the deserted, old fashioned foyer. The spongy blood red carpet and the gilded ticket office were very grandiose but oddly ominous in the minimal light.

  “Dressing room?” Pete pointed to a door marked “Private”.

  I nodded and pushed the door open, not able to fight the urge to tiptoe. The corridor was distinctly less grand. Posters of previous acts, the edges curled or torn from age, the centre walkway of the beige carpet worn down to the backing, and gouges and dents in the tarnished white walls all combined with the dim lighting didn’t exactly emanate the same extravagance as the public areas.

  We followed the sound of voices along the corridor. They were coming from behind a door marked “Talent”. Pete snorted as he read the sign.

  “And how is that my problem?” A male voice asked with a smoothness that put my teeth on edge.

  “I’m explaining why there’s going to be a delay.” It sounded like the girl was doing her best to keep her temper in check.

  “There’ll be no delay. You will continue to honour our arrangement.”

  “It’s not that simple.”

  “We waiting out here for a reason?” Pete whispered.

  I shrugged. “Didn’t want to interrupt.” Sabrina’s eavesdropping tendencies were starting to wear off on me.

  The dressing room door swung open. “Too late.”

  The man was mid-thirties, immaculately dressed, sunbed tanned with perfectly styled highlighted hair and oozed a smarmy charm. There was a hint of surprise behind his perfect smile and I did my best not to visibly recoil. He obviously recognised me as a dead gal.

  “Well, well, come on in gorgeous.”

  If I’d been alive there’s no way I’d have gone inside without pepper spray. And a taser. And probably a baseball bat.

  The dressing room was empty apart from props for a magic show at the back, half hidden by a wooden dressing screen. I peered inside an empty blanket chest and behind the dressing screen but there was no one else in the room. The walls were an off white. A row of mirrors stretched across the left hand wall, light bulbs surrounding each mirror.

  He watched me wearing a practiced smile. “Problem, sweetness?”

  I peeked around the screen again. “Where did the girl go?”

  Jeremy’s smile became fixed. “What girl?”

  “The one you were just arguing with?” I poked my head through a rail of scanty, glittery costumes but found no one on the other side.

  “Speakerphone.” He waved his phone at me. “So, do you have a message for me, beautiful?”

  “Yes.” I stopped my snooping and turned to face him, arms folded. “It’s from your mother. She says stop calling women by adjectives. It’s demeaning and incredibly annoying.”

  Pete snorted by the door but Jeremy didn’t even twitch.

  “The lengths my mother will go to tell me off. Though normally she’ll just pick up the phone.” I raised an unimpressed eyebrow and he laughed. “Okay, okay, what’s your name?”

  Remembering the conversation about professional names with Sabrina, and desperately not wanting to be at this guy’s beck and call, I gave him the first name that came into my head. “Jenny.”

  “Well, okay then Jenny.” I think he intended to say my fake name in a sexy way but it slithered out of his mouth instead. “Do you have a message for me?”

  “Sarah’s happy and very proud of Ian.”

  Jeremy grabbed a pen and scrap of paper and quickly scribbled it down before looking back up at me expectantly.

  I had nothing else for him so I lifted up my hand in a half-hearted wave. “See ya.”

  “Whoa, whoa, that’s it? That’s all you’ve got for me? ‘Sarah’s happy and proud of Ian’?” He stood up straight and rested his hands on his hips. For most people that would’ve been an aggressive stance, but it made him look whiny and effeminate.

  “Very proud. She’s very proud of Ian.”

  He arched an over-plucked eyebrow at me. “I have a show to do tonight.”

  “And?”

  “And, I can’t go out into a packed auditorium with only” – he put on his show voice, which was at least an octave deeper – “‘Sarah’s happy and proud of Ian’.”

  “Very proud. She’s very proud,” I corrected again and gestured to the scrap of paper in his hand. “Did you write that bit down? It’s an integral part of the message.”

  “Don’t patronise me. And enough fooling around, sweetheart, give me the rest of the messages.”

  “What a prat.” Pete laughed from the do
orway.

  I stood silently, looking around the room and pointedly not speaking.

  “Sweetheart!” He clicked his fingers in front of my face to get my attention.

  “Oh. I’m sorry. I didn’t realise you were talking to me since I’ve already explained my name’s not sweetheart.”

  “You people. You think you’re so smart. So superior.” Jeremy shook his head with a sneer. “But all you are is dead.”

  “I’m sensing some tension and a little hostility from you.” I held my hands up, palms facing him as if I were reading his aura. “Have you tried meditation?”

  “Please leave. I need to prepare for my show.” Jeremy turned his back on me, sat down at the dressing table and started scribbling more notes on various scraps of paper. “Oh, Jenny?” I’d reached Pete and the open doorway but turned back to a smug smile stretching across Jeremy’s face. “I’ll call you if I need you.”

  Despite the sudden lurch in my stomach, I smiled back. “Good luck with that.”

  Pete tunnelled us back into the sunshine outside the front of the theatre.

  “How can I block a summoning?” I asked while he checked something on the assignment sheet.

  “It’s easy.” He signed the sheet and held it out for me to do the same. “Don’t let them pull you.”

  Right. “What if you can’t stop the pull?”

  “Don’t worry about it, Bridge, it’s really easy.” Pete smiled and took the sheet back. “The only way the pull is strong enough is if they know your life name, which you never tell them, and if they’re really gifted. And trust me, there aren’t too many of those around. That’s why you have a professional name, so you can choose to answer the call or not. Though you always decline.”

  “Always?” I asked.

  Pete's eyes flicked up from the sheet he was checking to stare at me. “Always.”

  Something about the way he said “always” made me think that might be what you were supposed to do but not what everyone actually did do.

  “Why do you ask? You’re not worried about him, are you?” Pete jerked his head in the direction of the theatre. “You didn’t give him your life name so you’ve got nothing to worry about.”