Brooke shakes her head. “No way. Absolutely not. Plus, you know, she was having sex with a dead body.”
“That last part has nothing to do with being a model.”
“I saw you at Stacy’s wedding last night,” Thane says. He may be talking to both of the sisters, but he’s looking at Avery.
“You saw me there with my boyfriend, Jack,” Avery tells him, turning her attention back to her phone.
“You two looked like you were having a good time,” Thane says.
“We were having a wonderful time,” Avery assures him.
“Well, you certainly looked like it.”
Avery looks up again. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Thane shrugs. “It just means that you looked like you were enjoying yourself.”
“Of course I was enjoying myself,” Avery says, bristling slightly. “I was with my boyfriend.”
“Yes you were.”
“Stop that,” she says.
“I’m not doing anything.”
They stare at each in silence for a minute.
“I’m confused,” Brooke says, looking back and forth between them. “Is this some kind of new flirting thing? Because if it is, I’m completely lost.”
Avery drops her gaze back to her phone. “How’s business?” she asks, changing the subject abruptly.
“Same as yours, I’d guess,” Thane replies. He points to the junkie. “This is the first bounty I’ve had all week.”
“So it’s not just us,” Brooke says.
“No.”
“We’re all going through a bit of a dry spell.”
Thane frowns. “I don’t know that I would call it a dry spell.”
“You get any job offers from a certain grim reaping corporation?” Avery asks him.
Thane nods, chewing on the inside of his cheek. “Yeah. But I turned them down. What about you?”
The Red Door clicks, bringing the conversation to a close.
Avery nods at the door. “I think that’s for you.”
Downstairs, at the sisters’ pink sedan, Brooke frowns at she looks at the check again. “This is terrible.”
It's three hours later, late afternoon. Twenty minutes in the Waiting Room, three hours for the rest of the world.
“It’s not the worse we’ve ever gotten,” Avery says, walking around to the driver’s side.
“It’s close.” Brooke gets in the car and sighs. “This is killing me, Av. Another two weeks of this and it’s going to be Ramon noodles and a homeless shelter.”
Avery settles in behind the wheel, but doesn’t start the car. “Don’t be so dramatic.”
“This is the first bounty we’ve had in the last week and a half,” Brooke says. “We’re doing worse off than Mr. Gorgeous. We need to do something about Messor and Decessus.”
“As in take their job offer?”
“It’s certainly sounding like a good idea,” Brooke says.
“Yeah, it is sounding like a good idea, isn’t it?” Avery replies. “Doesn’t that bother you?”
Brooke shakes her head. “You know what bothers me? Having an empty stomach.”
“You’re so quick to sell out,” Avery chastises her.
“You know what the best part about selling out is?” Brooke asks her. “All the money. That’s why it’s called selling out.”
Avery’s phone rings. “Hello?” she answers.
“Hello, Avery dear.”
“Hi, Mom,” Avery replies.
Brooke rolls her eyes. “Tell her I’m not here,” she mouths to her sister.
"Brooke's not here," Avery says into the phone.
"Why are you telling me that?" her mother asks.
"I don't know," Avery answers. "Brooke told me too."
Brooke raises a hand to smack her sister.
"Delightful," her mother sighs. “I was wondering if you and your sister could meet with me. I have a friend that could use your help.”
five
The Mason Funeral Home, family owned and operated, is located two blocks off of Sanderson Ave, past the Adult Video store and the child daycare place. It’s a brickwork building that’s been around for the last twenty-five years. The shrubs out front are overgrown and there’s bougainvillea vines stretching out along both sides of the building.
Today, the Mason Funeral Home is packed, bursting with mourners from all walks of life, who, in turn, are bursting with tears and grief.
Inside an empty viewing room sit four women: the Graves sisters, their mother and Lori Stanford.
Emma Graves, mother to Avery and Brooke, doesn’t look a day over forty-five. Her red hair is kept short and styled simply. She carries herself with the grace of an older Englishwoman and has the piercing gaze of an experienced Egyptian interrogator. She’s dressed in a somber black dress.
Lori Stanford looks to be in her late twenties with bleach blond hair and light blue eyes. Her face is angled sharply with pronounced cheekbones. She looks at the Graves sisters with what appears to be a permanent expression of distress.
“Lori’s mother was a good friend of mine,” Emma explains. “Shannon Stanford. I met her shortly after your father passed away. You recall she used to host the weekend book club that I told you about?”
Avery and Brooke carefully nod their heads, pretending to remember what their mother was talking about.
“She was a delightful woman who helped me through some very difficult times.” Emma’s holding Lori’s hand and gives it a supportive squeeze. “Shannon passed away recently.”
“Is this her funeral?” Brooke asks, indicating the growing crowd of mourners on the other side the closed doors.
Lori shakes her head and speaks for the first time. “No. My mother died six months ago.”
“Then whose funeral is this?” Brooke asks.
“I have no idea,” Lori says. “It was your mother’s idea to meet here.”
Brooke looks at her mom with a slightly disapproving gaze. “Really, Mom? Really?”
“How did your mother die?” Avery asks Lori in a gentle tone, cutting Brooke off.
Lori shrugs. “Nothing unusual. Just life. My mother was old. Both of her parents had died in their seventies, so it certainly wasn’t unexpected.” Lori pauses, staring at the floor. “It wasn't really anything than just her time, I guess.”
"I am sorry for your loss," Avery says carefully. "But it sounds like your mother's death was fairly normal." She looks to her mom. “No offense to Lori, but what does this have to do with us?”
"Lori," Emma pauses, gripping the young woman's hand tightly. “Lori believes her mother’s still around.”
“Still around?” Avery echoes.
“More to the point, Ms. Graves," Lori says. "I think my mother is haunting me.”
Avery and Brooke look at each other.
Brooke raises an eyebrow and asks Lori, “Define ‘haunting.’”
Lori takes a deep breath and looks at the sisters with expressionless eyes.
“During the day, it’s mostly fine,” Lori explains, “Occasionally the phone will ring and I’ll hear snatches of my mother from conversations from when she was alive. And sometimes I think I see her in mirrors around the house or I’ll catch her out of the corner of my eye.” She pauses, taking another deep breath to steady herself. “It’s after sunset when it gets bad. Pictures of her that hang on the walls weep as I pass by. Blood writing appears and disappears on my walls. There are screams that come from nowhere, echoing throughout the house. Heavy footsteps in rooms where there is nobody. Furniture moved and disappearing, only to reappear in different rooms." She pauses again and looks Brooke in the eye. "That, Ms. Graves, is what I mean by haunting.”
Brooke fidgets uncomfortably in her seat. She glances at Avery, but her older sister has the better poker face.
Emma takes this moment to speak up. “Lori came to me last night about this. I explained to her that my daughters were both grim reapers and would be able to help.”
&n
bsp; Avery pauses, running the data through her head. “Lori, do you know if your mother was ever actually reaped?”
Lori doesn’t say anything, glancing at Emma. The older woman gives her a gentle nod.
“Ms. Graves-”
“Please, call me Avery.”
“Avery,” Lori starts again. “I’ll be honest, I’m not sure what happened to my mother. When she died, there was a lot of confusion and grief. I had dozens of people coming in and out of the house.” She shrugs. “I honestly don’t know who half of them were.”
Avery sighs and rubs her forehead. “Six months ago?” She shakes her head. “Lori, if your mother’s soul needed to be reaped, it would have been then.”
“Well, clearly, she wasn’t,” Emma says.
Avery starts to say something else and then thinks better of it. “And if that’s the case, this is kind of outside our wheelhouse. We’re not the grim reaper police, Mom. You know that.”
“I know what I know,” Emma says. It's an awkward statement and the sisters wait for a follow up, but there is none.
“Mom, this isn't the sort of thing that Dad did,” Avery starts.
Emma cuts her off. “Avery, the total sum of the things that your father did and you did not know about would blow your mind. But that’s not what we’re here to talk about.”
Lori speaks up again. “I can pay you, Ms. Graves. Whatever the cost.”
Avery sighs. “It’s not about money.”
“But it certainly wouldn’t hurt,” Brooke steps in.
“Ms. Graves,” Lori starts. “Avery. My mother is not at rest,” she pauses, collecting her thoughts. “She had a difficult life after my father left us. She had to work two jobs to keep us in our home. Later, she took on a third job so that she could make sure I’d get a good education. We lived in the ghetto my entire childhood. She shopped at second hand thrift stores till the day she died. She never got to visit Paris like she dreamed of when she was young. She never wrote a book. She didn’t change the world. She raised me at great cost to herself and now she’s dead. And in death she should have, at the very least, the peace she could not have in life. So please, Ms. Graves, Avery, please help me. Please help my mother.”
Avery doesn’t say anything. She looks at her sister who gives an unsubtle shake of her head.
Avery turns back to the grieving young lady.
“Okay, Lori, we’ll help you.”
It’s twenty minutes later and the funeral’s over. In the parking lot Avery and Brooke stand by their pink sedan, watching as Emma hugs Lori goodbye next to a green smart car.
“Well,” Brooke says, looking at her sister from across the top of the car.
“Yep,” Avery agrees.
“I don’t like this,” Brooke says.
Avery holds up the check Lori gave her. “I’m surprised this doesn’t take some of the edge off of it.”
“Oh, I’m not complaining about the money,” Brooke says.
“Of course not.”
“We need the money," Brooke says. "No, I’m complaining about Mom.”
“You always complain about Mom.”
“That’s because we never get along,” Brooke says. “Does it feel like she’s using us? Because it feels like she’s using us.”
Avery shakes her head. Lori gets into her car and pulls out of the lot. Emma Graves makes her way over to her girls.
“I’m very disappointed in the both of you,” she says.
Brooke makes a face. “How can you be disappointed in us when we took the job?” she asks.
“That young lady is hurting,” Emma says. “You showed absolutely no sensitivity to that woman.”
“I don’t think that’s in the job description,” Brooke says.
Emma just shakes her head.
“I loathe to side with my sister,” Avery starts. “But this is odd, Mom.”
“That’s not at all what I said,” Brooke says.
“It’s kind of broadly siding with you,” Avery replies. “I’m siding with your intent.”
“Lori’s mother was a good friend to me after your father died,” Emma says.
“I can appreciate that, Mom,” Avery replies.
“Then this shouldn’t be a problem."
Avery sighs. “You’re jumping over a lot of salient details.”
Emma shrugs. “What may be salient to some people, may be irrelevant to others.”
“Okay, here’s the deal, if Lori’s mother was reaped six months ago,” Avery says. “That means one of two things. And both of those things are way over our heads.”
“Then maybe you need to stand taller,” Emma suggests.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Brooke asks.
Emma gives her daughter a small smile. “Think of it as a teachable moment.”
“I think we’re a little old for teachable moments,” Brooke replies.
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
“Mom,” Avery starts.
“You don’t believe her?”
“I certainly don’t,” Brooke says.
“I believe that she’s hurting,” Avery replies.
“Then that’s all you need,” Emma says. She fiddles with the strap of her purse for a moment.
“She can’t go back to the house,” Avery says, giving in to her mother’s will.
“Of course she can’t,” Emma agrees. “That was the first thing I told her. She’s staying at a hotel until this is sorted out.” She looks her daughters in the eyes. “And it will be sorted out.”
“We’ll do our best, Mom,” Avery says.
“Okay, let’s not commit ourselves to any special seal of excellence here,” Brooke cuts in.
Emma regards her younger daughter. “On a lighter note, I have a young man for you to meet.”
Brooke just gaps at her mother for a few seconds. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me,” Emma replies. “Don’t pretend you didn’t hear me. He’s a nice young man. I think the two of you will get along quite well.” She smiles. “He is a very special man.”
“Is he retarded?” Brooke asks.
Emma gives her daughter a disapproving look. “Don’t be crude.”
“I’m not being crude, Mom,” Brooke says. “What do you think special means?” She throws air quotes around the word ‘special.’
“It means that he’s a special young man that you could potentially spend the rest of your life with,” Emma answers simply. “So, get your act together, otherwise you could miss out.”
Brooke frowns, her forehead scrunching up. “I’m really confused right now.”
Emma gives them each a hug and kiss. She starts for her own car and then turns back to face Avery, “Your father said that helping people is part of the job. Lori needs your help, Avery. Start there.”
Avery watches her mother drive off.
Brooke groans. “Mom wants to set me up.”
“That was far from being the worst thing we heard about today.” Avery gets in the car.
“Can we put that to a vote?” Brooke asks, following her sister. “I don’t like this.”
“Neither do I,” Avery agrees. “And, yes, I know we’re both talking about two different things.”
“Plus, it feels weird to be picking up work at a funeral home,” Brooke says. “Kind of like a prostitute picking up clients at a strip club.”
Avery starts up the car. “Do you feel a little dirty?”
Brooke thinks about it for a moment and then nods her head. “Yeah, a little bit.”
“Maybe there’s hope for you yet.”
six
Lori Stanford lives in a small two-story townhouse off of Eaves Ave. It’s a nice area of town, if a little run down from the hooligans that attend Eaves High School. The townhomes are packed together tightly, painted in a small variety of earth tones and topped off with matching tile roofs. Every home seems to come with a tiny patch of a front yard just large enough to set up a lawn chair and comfortably spy on the neighbors.
Brooke looks at the townhouse, her eyes squinting slightly as the sun starts its descent behind the home. “Can you believe Mom?”
“Well, I’ve always had a better relationship with Mom than you have,” Avery says, watching the townhouse.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Brooke sounds defensive.
“It means that I get along with Mom, whereas you don’t and, consequently, you view every interaction with her like a preamble to war.”
“Okay, that sounds like a gross over-exaggeration,” Brooke replies.
“Mom just wants to set you up with a nice guy,” Avery says. “Who’s really over exaggerating here?”
Brooke waits a moment before pointing towards herself. “Wait, what?”
“You do have awful taste in men,” Avery points out.
“Okay, hold up. I’m not the one dating an ugly doctor, while secretly having the hots for a drop dead gorgeous grim reaper.”
“No, of course not.” Avery shakes her head. “Only in Brooke World would dating a doctor be a bad thing.”
Brooke makes a wishy-washy hand motion. “Jack’s not exactly Catch of the Year, if you know what I mean.”
“You already called him ugly,” Avery says. “So, yeah, I think I can figure out your secret code.”
“And what about you secretly lusting after the most eligible reaper bachelor in Century City?” Brooke asks her.
“I’m not secretly lusting after anyone,” Avery insists in a tone that doesn’t sound very sure of itself. “And who was it exactly that you went home with last night after the wedding?”
Brooke folds her arms. “That’s not the point.”
“I think that’s exactly the point,” Avery says. “Mom just wants to set you with a nice man who's going to love and respect you. What’s wrong with that?”
Brooke shrugs. “Mom doesn’t have the best taste in men.”
Avery stares at her sister for a few seconds before bursting into laughter. “Oh, that’s rich.”
Brooke glares at her. “Thank you.”
Death & Stilettos Page 31