aisling grimlock 03 - grim discovery

by Amanda M. Lee

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

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

  “Just look,” Aidan prodded.

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

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

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

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

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

  “I told you!”

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

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

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

  “Weren’t they full of sex?”

  “So?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  “It is not.”

  “It is, too.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  “You’re so naïve.”

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

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

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

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

  “I really am sorry.”

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

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

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

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

  “This is my story to tell,” Aidan argued.

  “How do you figure?”

  “I’m older.”

  “By like three minutes.”

  “That still counts,” Aidan said, crossing his arms over his chest.

  “If you think I’m letting you steal the one good story from my day … then you’re as crazy as Corinne Nesbitt,” I challenged.

  “Of 34592 Lawton Street,” we both chimed in simultaneously, causing the other to laugh.

  Aidan slung an arm over my shoulders as we left Corinne’s house. “I love you dearly, but we need to stop spending so much time together.”

  “I should be off probation soon.”

  “I’m worried Dad is never going to let you off probation because he worries about you too much.”

  “Oh, please. He has to let me off probation,” I said. “Those are the rules.” Secretly I was starting to wonder whether Aidan was right. I would never admit that to my brother, though. It would be like ceding power to him.

  “I’m still telling Jerry this story,” Aidan said.

  “I’ll hurt you if you try.”

  “Promises, promises.”

  Two

  “Why are you two so late?” My brother Redmond sat on the leather couch in Dad’s office, barely glancing up from the catalog he flipped through as Aidan and I shuffled in a few hours later. “You had an easy schedule today. You should have been the first ones back.”

  As the oldest brother, Redmond often thinks he’s in charge. As the lone female in the family, I always know I’m in charge. It causes us to butt heads from time to time. He’s also the one I go to more often than not – other than Aidan, of course – when I need to talk. Since he inherently knows when I’m lying, I’d been avoiding him for almost two weeks.

  “We were running ahead of schedule until the last one,” Aidan replied, throwing himself on the couch next to Redmond and glancing at the catalog to see whether it was something that interested him. “Why do they ruin good motorcycles by putting almost-naked women on them when they take the advertising photos?”

  Redmond snorted. “See, you’re into dudes, so you can’t grasp just how hot this chick is,” he said. “She makes me want to buy the motorcycle.”

  This seemed a safe enough conversation for me to engage in. I’d been hiding a huge secret for ten insufferable days – seriously, it feels like an eternity when you’re part of an over-sharing family – and I longed to be able to spend time with my brothers without the weight of the world causing my shoulders to slouch. I pushed between them and settled on the couch, grabbing the catalog so I could study the blonde in question.

  “Her boobs are huge.”

  “Thanks for stating the obvious, kid,” Redmond said, slinging an arm over my shoulders as we flipped through the catalog. “What do you think about the bike, though? I want one.”

  “There’s a bike there?” I feigned ignorance. “I thought she was selling her boobs.”

  “You’re a funny girl, Ais,” Redmond said, tweaking my nose. “Seriously, though, I need a chick’s opinion. How hot would I look on that bike? I think women would flock to me if I had that bike.”

  I’d never known Redmond to have trouble finding selections in the dating herd. “Are you having trouble making women flock? If so, Aidan and I saw a guy today you should take lessons from.”

  Aidan wrinkled his nose. “I told you, that’s my story to tell!”

  “Oh, stuff it,” I muttered.

  “You two fight like cats and dogs when you’re forced to spend twenty-four hours a day together,” Redmond pointed out. “I think things might be spiraling. Maybe Cillian or I should take over Aisling duty.”

  “You can have her,” Aidan sneered, making a face and sticking out his tongue in my direction.

  “Are you two fighting again?” Braden breezed into the room, every dark hair on his head perfectly in place. “Can’t we all just get along?” Braden plopped down on my lap as if he didn’t see me. “That’s an awesome bike, Red. The chick isn’t bad either.”

  I struggled beneath Braden’s muscular form, trying to push him off my lap. He refused to get up. “Move, jerk!”

  “Do you hear something?” Braden asked, cocking his head to the side.

  I hated this game. My brothers played it at least once a week when I was growing up. “Ha, ha.”

  Braden lifted slightly and then dropped down harder on my lap. “This couch is really lumpy.”

  For lack of anything better to do I grabbed a hunk of Braden’s skin on his hip and viciously twisted it.

  “Ow!” Braden jumped to his feet. “That hurt, Aisling.”

  “It was meant to hurt,” I shot back.

  “Oh, I can just feel the love in here.” The final member of the Grimlock brood, Cillian, wandered into the room. He was more of a thinker than an agitator, but he could give as good as he got when the mood struck. “What happened to you, Braden? Did Aisling beat you up again?”

  “For the record, Aisling has never beaten me up,” Braden countered. “She was always spoiled rotten because she was the only girl and Dad and Mom let her have her way because of it.”

  “All I hear is, ‘Wah, wah, wah,’” I muttered.

  “What are you even doing here, Ais?” Cillian asked, flopping onto one of the wingback chairs across the way. “I wasn’t sure you were still a member of this family.”

  Uh-oh. “I … what do you mean?”

  “I have seen you exactly one time since the showdown at the mausoleum,” Cillian replied. “I hate to admit it, but I’ve kind of missed you.”

  It was a sweet sentiment. Unfortunately, it was wrapped around dangerous territory. “I’ve just been … busy.” I averted my gaze and turned back to the catalog. “How do you think Redmond would look with a bike like this? Personally, I think he needs bigger boobs and a thong to pull it off if this model is to be believed, but what do I know?”

  “You don’t think like a normal chick,” Redmond argued. “I need to take this over to the townhouse so Jerry can look at it. He’ll know if I’d look hot on this.”

  Aidan appeared intrigued with the suggestion. “I’ve always kind of wanted a bike. I would be smoking hot on a motorcycle.”

  I rolled my eyes and when I risked a glance back in Cillian’s direction I found him studying me with a thoughtful expression. “What?”

  “You totally dodged that question,” Cillian replied, leaning forward. “I asked why I haven’t seen you since … well … you literally burned the mausoleum down and killed two people, and you shifted the conversation back to a motorcycle I know you don’t care two figs about.”

  “Honey, I don’t care two figs about anything,” I deadpanned, going for levity. “I don’t even like figs.”

  “Don’t do that,” Cillian said. “What have you been doing?”

  “I haven’t been doing anything.”

  Redmond shifted his gaze to me and snagged the catalog from my hand. “He’s right. You’ve been avoiding us.”

  “I have not!” Boy, that sounded a lot shriller than it should have.

  “Leave her alone,” Aidan ordered, taking me by surprise. “That’s a lot to deal with. She caused two deaths while saving my life. Duke Fontaine was willing to kill me to get to her. She didn’t do anything wrong.”
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  “I’m not saying she did anything wrong,” Cillian protested. “She’s usually over here at least three times a week, though … more if she’s hungry and doesn’t want to go to the grocery store. We’ve seen her once and she couldn’t get out of here fast enough.”

  While it was true that doubt about ending Duke Fontaine and Sylvia Dobbs’ lives plagued me, that wasn’t the reason I’d been hiding. I wasn’t particularly remorseful about killing them. They’d stalked my family, kidnapped my brother and had horrible plans in store for me. They got what they deserved.

  No, I’d been keeping my distance because of something Fontaine admitted before he died. He told me my mother was alive – even though she purportedly perished in a fire a decade before – but she was also in cahoots with the individuals trying to harm us. I was still trying to wrap my head around the information, and until I understood what was going on there was no way I could unload something this big on my father and brothers. Since they can all tell when I’m lying, I decided distance was the best option. It looked as if that was about to backfire on me.

  “I don’t want to talk about this,” I said, moving to climb off the couch.

  Redmond grabbed my arm and hauled me back down, forcing me close to his side so he could study me. “There’s nothing to feel guilty about, kid. They were going to kill Aidan. You did what you had to do.”

  Part of me was glad that my brothers worried about me – and this guilt thing was something I could work to my advantage if they crowded me too much. I hated lying to them, though … especially about something this emotional. “I don’t feel guilty,” I said, searching for something that would get them off my back without making them feel sorry for me. I really couldn’t take that. “I’ve just been … processing.”

  “Well, we’d like to see you while you’re processing,” Redmond replied.

  “I wouldn’t,” Braden said, although he winked in my direction to let me know he was joking.

  Redmond ignored him. “You don’t have to hide from us because you’re thinking about what happened, kid,” he said. “We don’t demand that you be upbeat and happy every time we see you. Heck, if you were, we probably wouldn’t recognize you.”