Pink Blooded: A Lana Pink Mystery
Page 15
I could always still try and get my P.I's license.
Taj took another sip of lukewarm beer while the sun rose and rose. "Did we do the right thing?"
"We saved my life," I said, reaching for the beer again.
"But will he ever be brought to justice?"
"Brent or Rocco?" I asked.
"Either," Taj said, shaking his head.
"I don't know, Taj," I whispered. "Being kicked out of Traralgon is a kind of justice in itself."
"Tree Valley."
"Right."
"Some detectives we turned out to be," Taj said.
"Hey," I said, nudging him gently with my elbow. "Speak for yourself. Anyway, we did manage to save my life."
"Yes, but at what cost?" Taj asked, staring up at the sky. It was candy pink.
"What was that blood Taj? The green blood that came out of your leg." Though I suppose it would have come out of any hole he'd been stabbed in.
"Lana...." He said. "There are a lot of truths you are ready for, but I don't think this is one of them."
"Are you an alien, Taj?"
Taj stared up at the skies very quiet for a long time.
Finally, he answered.
"Almost."
***
The house was empty without Grace, but I liked it that way, even though her cat was still with me. I liked knowing what milk was in the fridge and what milk wasn't.
Or at least, that's what I thought would happen when she moved out. I thought the mystery of the disappearing milk would be solved once and for all.
But every now and then, I'd put a bottle of milk in there, and it would just disappear in the morning like it had never existed.
We'd screwed with the program. The very matrix of the town.
Traralgon was coming back.
I could feel it.
I shut the empty fridge and looked in the mirror, running my hand over my leather jacket, unsure of whether I was actually dead or alive.
They always said my cottage was haunted, didn't they?
But ghosts can write books. You ever hear of a ghost-writer? I don't use one, but I might be one.
And ghosts can solve mysteries as well.
THE END.