“You can’t be too careful,” he says, by way of an explanation.
“I wasn’t aware that grim reaper impersonators was a thing,” Brooke says.
The man glares at Brooke. “Everything’s a thing these days and grim reapers are always a pain in my ass.” He smiles like the dirty old man he’s going to become. “Although, you two are certainly the prettiest grim reapers I’ve ever seen.”
Brooke frowns. “Okay, well, now I feel like I’ve been eye raped.”
Mason turns back to Avery. “I assume you’re here about my brother?”
“And his wife, Cindy.”
A sneer quickly passes across Ben Mason’s face.
“What happened?” he asks.
“The police haven’t contacted you?” Avery asks.
“The police,” Ben speaks with a disgusted tone in his voice, “have spoken to me. But, obviously, they left something out. Otherwise you wouldn’t be here right now,” he settles back in his chair. “What happened?”
Avery hesitates before answering. Ben Mason doesn’t seem like a man in working his way through the grieving process.
“The police didn’t leave anything out. Your brother and his wife committed suicide late last night,” Avery says. “They never arrived in the afterlife. My sister and I are trying to find out what happened.”
Ben looks back and forth between them. “And you’ve come here?”
“We’re tracking down all the leads we have,” Avery says. “It’s unusual for suicides to run from the afterlife.”
Ben snorts and smiles humorlessly. “You don’t know Brian,” he coughs. “My brother was fond of running away from his obligations and responsibilities. That he ran from the afterlife doesn’t come as a shock at all,” he tilts his head to the side. “How exactly does this work?”
Brooke folds her arms. “The same way it always works. You said you’ve dealt with reapers before. You should be used to the routine.”
“You got yourself a pretty little face, sweetie.” Ben glares at her. “But I don’t like you very much.”
Brooke smiles sweetly. “Well, I guess there’s a first time for everything.”
“Don’t worry,” Avery says. “She grows on you after a while.”
“Sometimes it’s the other way around, though,” Brooke chimes in.
“No offense,” Ben says, “but I’m hoping you ladies aren’t around long enough for that to happen.”
“Don’t take this the wrong way,” Avery says, “but you don’t seem particularly upset over your brother’s death.”
Ben shrugs. “My brother and I didn't get along real well.”
“Sounds pretty bad,” Brooke observes. “You’re not even taking the day off from work.”
“I’m dedicated to my job,” Ben replies dryly.
Brooke arches an eyebrow. “Have you smelled this place?”
Ben turns back to Avery. “If you’ve got something to say, say it already. I’ve got work to do.”
Avery casts a sideways glance at Brooke. “Dead souls aren’t very creative,” she explains to Ben. “If they’re not in the afterlife, they tend to stick to places that they’re most familiar with.”
“And you think my brother’s here?” Ben points to the floor, indicating the bowling alley.
“Actually, we know he’s not,” Avery says. “We were hoping you might have some other suggestions.”
“Right,” Ben shakes his head. “Grim reapers.”
“Is that supposed to mean something?” Brooke asks.
“Yeah, it means you’re bunch of lazy asses,” Ben says. “I don’t know where my brother and his wife might be haunting.”
“You sure about that?” Avery asks.
Ben looks her straight in the eye. “Pretty damn sure.”
“We heard Brian was a writer,” Avery says, switching tactics.
Ben laughs, but it’s devoid of any real humor. “Yeah. A writer,” he nods. “You could check that crappy bar he was always hanging out in, where he did his ‘writing.’ I think it was called the Rusty Nail.”
Avery pauses a second. “You really didn’t like your brother?”
Ben clears his throat, stroking under his chin. “You have a brother?”
“Just the two of us,” Avery replies.
“You’re lucky,” Ben says. “Brothers are a pain in the ass. Especially the baby ones.”
“You have a second brother,” Avery points out.
“Ralph,” Ben says. “Him, I like. He takes after me.”
“Well, it’s good your parents had three of you,” Avery comments.
“Isn’t it.”
"So, would you say that Brian was on the outs with you guys?" Brooke asks.
Ben snorts. "On the outs?" he repeats.
Brooke frowns. "I'm gonna assume you're being sarcastic and I don't actually need to explain that term."
"My baby brother was my baby brother," Ben replies. "I didn't like him very much. Neither did Ralphie." Ben rolls his neck and there's the sound of bones cracking. "Brian had the ability to bring out our easily irritated sides."
"What about Cindy?" Avery asks.
Ben shrugs. "She was a nice piece of ass."
"Wow, that's sounds like a pretty high compliment," Brooke says dryly.
Ben smiles and the sisters feel like they need to take a shower. "It's about as high as you're gonna get from me. Brian liked a particular kind of woman. The kind that's big on the sugary sweetness and low on the brains. In that way, they were the perfect match for each other."
"You give them a nice wedding present?” Avery asks.
"I gave them the best thing I could," Ben replies. "I stayed away from the whole affair."
"We heard it was a whirlwind affair," Avery says. "Brian and Cindy met and pretty much got married the next day."
Ben nods. "Yep. That's pretty much how it happened."
"Was Brian a hopeless romantic?" Brooke asks.
"Brian was just hopeless," Ben says.
"Why do you think they killed themselves?"
Ben is silent for a minute, there's a piece of paper on the desk that suddenly has his attention.
Brooke and Avery look at each other, wondering if they needed to say something else.
"My brother had a lot of problems," Ben says finally. "He wasn't very focused. He wasn't very loyal to his family. He was pretty damn flighty." Ben looks at the sisters. "But the one thing he didn't have a problem with was wanting to live. I don't know why my idiot brother would kill himself." Ben nods at the doorway. “I trust you know the way out.”
Outside the bowling alley, Brooke’s rubs her eyes, suddenly more tired than she thought she was. “Wow, he was an asshole.”
“Yes, he was,” Avery agrees.
“Makes me almost believe the story we sold the Principal,” Brooke says.
“About it not being a suicide?”
“Yep.”
“Ben certainly gave some weight to that theory,” Avery says.
“What was that bit about not being loyal to family?" Brooke asks.
"I noticed that," Avery says. "It was odd."
"Very odd," Brooke agrees. "The whole thing was odd." She pauses. "Maybe big brother was so pissed off at baby brother that he killed him and his new sister-in-law?”
“It’s a thought,” Avery agrees. “But what’s the point of killing your baby brother?”
“Does it really matter?” Brooke counters. “We don’t have to solve their death. We just need to find their souls.”
Avery glances up at the sky. The sun’s setting. “The day’s almost over.”
“You got some place to be?”
“Actually, I do,” Avery says. “Jack’s got a thing tonight and I’m supposed to be his arm candy.”
"A thing?" Brooke asks.
"A doctor thing."
"A doctor thing?"
Avery looks at her sister. "What is this? A bit?"
"I'm just trying to figure out what's going on," Brook
e says.
"Jack's got a fancy doctor thing tonight and I told him I'd be there with him," Avery answers.
Brooke throws her hands up. "What the hell?"
"Hey," Avery says. "Come on."
“We have a dead guy back at the office,” Brooke reminds her.
“I haven’t forgotten,” Avery says.
“And a missing dead couple,” Brooke adds.
“I’m familiar with both cases.”
“But you want to blow off the night to be your boyfriend’s arm candy?”
“That’s pretty much the case,” Avery says.
Brooke frowns. “You said we were going to drop off Danny the Dead Guy today.”
“And it's probably going to be tomorrow,” Avery admits.
Brooke shakes her head and looks disapprovingly at her sister.
“You know, it’s not like I’m blowing you off to have a one night stand with a bartender who happens to have a magical tongue,” Avery says. “I’m in committed relationship with my boyfriend. This is what you do when you’re in a committed relationship.”
“At this point it’s hardly a one night stand with Steven the bartender,” Brooke says. “I prefer to think of it as a series of no-strings-attached sexual encounters.”
Avery shakes her head, getting into the car. “The fact you think about these things is disturbing.”
"There's, like, legitimate reasons for why this is a bad idea," Brooke says, sliding into the passenger seat. "We've hung onto Danny the Dead Guy for one day too long. If Russell finds out we've got him..."
Avery starts the car, pulling them out of the parking lot. "Russell's not going to find out and stop calling him Danny the Dead Guy."
"Well, I suppose I can start calling him a Bad Idea," Brooke muses. "But that doesn't roll off the tongue the same way."
"And you would know all about rolling off the tongue," Avery says.
"I would," Brooke agrees. She sighs, giving in. "Well, what am I supposed to do while you're doing the fancy thing tonight?"
Avery shrugs. "Don't know. Don't really care. I'm not your event coordinator."
"No, but you're leaving me high and dry and more than a little light on cash," Brooke says. "Also, Steven the bartender is working tonight."
"My heart bleeds for you."
"I suppose I could find someone else to amuse me," Brooke says, tapping a finger against her lips. She smiles. "It is Tuesday."
"And?"
"And Tuesday night there's that art class across the street from Clark's," Brooke replies. "You know, the one with the nude male models?"
Avery rolls her eyes. "I'll drop you off."
Brooke's grinning from ear to ear. "Thanks!"
twelve
“Hey,” Jack Ellis gives Avery a hurried kiss on the check. “You’re late.” He’s dressed in a traditional tuxedo. It fits him perfectly, showing off his broad shoulders. Jack’s tall with fairly ordinary features, though he has some light acne scaring on the left cheek. His dark hair is starting to thin out in the back, so he’s taken to keeping it closely cropped, almost buzz cut-like. Nervous brown eyes watch Avery from behind wire rim glasses and his thin lips are pressed together so tightly, they almost merge into a single line.
“Sorry,” Avery replies. She’s putting on her earrings as they walk into the hotel. “I’ve been driving all over town today.”
“This thing started an hour ago,” Jack says, holding the door open for her. “I’ve been looking like Mr. Awkward in there. Thomas is here tonight. He likes to see his doctors in well-adjusted relationships. He seems to think they’ll be less likely to walk out on him.”
“I said I was sorry,” Avery replies evenly. “The nice thing to do would be to accept my apology and let it go.”
She’s dressed in a black, full-length gown that clung to the curves of her body in the most flattering way possible. The dress shimmers when the light hits it. Avery has three nice dresses. This is the only one that doesn’t have blood on it. The black heels add about another two inches to her height, putting her almost eye level with her boyfriend. Her hair is pinned up on her right side and there’s a hint of makeup across her face that gives her an almost glowing appearance.
“Sorry,” Jack says. “I’m just nervous.”
Avery stops them in the hallway. “I know, sweetie.” She cups his cheek and kisses him on the lips. The nervous energy seems to melt away from Jack. “That’s why I’m giving you a kiss and not shoving my heel up your butt.”
Jack gives a crooked a smile. “I guess I deserved that.”
Avery nods, checking her reflection in the hallway mirror. “Yes you did. Now, compliment me on my dress.”
He takes her by the waist and pulls her towards him. “You look gorgeous.”
Avery frowns. “You’re not even looking at me.”
“I’m gazing into your eyes,” Jack replies. “That’s where all the good stuff is.”
“A woman likes to know that her outside is appealing, too,” Avery reminds him.
Jack tears his gaze away from her eyes and lets it wander down her body, drinking in her curves. “Well, in that case,” he says, bringing eyes back up to her face. “You’re smoking hot.”
Avery smiles, blushing slightly. “Thank you.”
Jack grips her waist tighter. “No, thank you. This means a lot.”
“It’s just a dinner.”
“It’s more than that,” Jack replies. “And you know that. Thank you.”
“Hey,” Avery replies, giving him a cute smile. “What are gorgeous girlfriends for?”
Sparkling chandeliers and elegant drapes adorn the banquet hall. Generically soft and pleasant music is played over discreetly placed speakers. Waiters roam the hall dressed in full tuxedos. The only way you can distinguish the wait staff from the guests, is the color of their hair. All the guests are well over forty. There’s more grey hair here tonight than Sunday afternoon bingo.
Avery frowns as they enter the hall. “I feel there’s a kiddie table for me somewhere.”
“You’re perfect,” Jack assures her.
“You do realize we’re probably the two youngest people here, right?” Avery asks him.
“Now you know why I’ve been Mr. Awkward for the last the hour,” Jacks says, adjusting his bowtie. “Doctor Spielbern’s tried to set me up with her daughter three times so far.”
Avery pauses, trying to remember if she’s met Doctor Spielbern. “Which one is she?”
Jack points to a large woman in a bright blue dress. “Debra Spielbern of the plastic surgery department.”
Avery makes a face. “There’s some irony for you.”
The special event is a banquet held for the staff and board members of Saint Mercy’s. It’s an annual event organized by the director of the hospital, Randolph Thomas. Thomas likes to show off for his board members. That usually includes trotting out the top doctors like they were in a Best of Show style competition and handing out a few awards throughout the night. It’s always a popular event, mostly due to the open bar.
With Avery there Jack’s able to fend off all the marriage proposals from his co-workers. Avery’s her usual charming and polite self. Laughing at the silly jokes the old doctors make, flirting with the even older board members and acting appropriately shocked whenever she heard a bit of scandalous news that wasn’t really all that scandalous.
This was hardly her first time at the rodeo.
The night wears on and after an hour or two Avery finds herself in a delightful conversation with Robert Rivera and Philip Derow.
“But you see, Avery that is what I find so fascinating,” Rivera says. He’s a large man with a bushy beard and a heavy sweet tooth.
“It’s really not that fascinating,” Avery insists.
“Oh, but it is,” Rivera continues, stroking his bead. “You and Jack have diametrically opposed purposes. You are responsible for guiding poor souls to their afterlives and Jack’s taken oath to do no harm–dare I say, he’s t
aken an oath to keep them alive. And yet, the two of find each other and engage in this relationship? It boggles the mind.”
Avery offers a polite smile and takes a sip from her strawberry flavored drink. “It’s not that mind boggling.”
Rivera shakes his head. “Poor girl, you’ve become desensitized to the wonder of your life.”
Avery laughs. “Oh, is that it? I was wondering why I was feeling so bored this morning.”
“I have to agree with my colleague,” Derow says. He’s a tiny man in his late fifties, with a distinguished air about him. “I have known other grim reapers, not one of them has been able to maintain any kind of long term personal relationship. That you should not only stand out from the crowd, but do so with a doctor whose very job it is to keep you from doing your job,” he gives a confounded shrug.
“It’s possible,” Avery suggests. “That those other grim reapers were just losers.”
Derow gives the thought a moment’s consideration. “It’s possible,” he says. “The only other two grim reapers I’ve met are my brother’s grandchildren and they are absolute bums as the kids say these days.”
Avery smiles. “I don’t think that’s something the kids are saying these days. And we don’t really have any say in when it’s our time to go. When it’s up, it’s up.”
Rivera nods, listening to her words. “There’s an interesting thought. You mean to say that Dr. Ellis is predestined to save or not save a life on his table?”
“Something like that,” Avery replies.
“Well, that doesn’t leave much room for free will,” Derow says, “now does it?”
“I think you could subscribe to both lines of thought without either of them conflicting with each other,” Avery says carefully.
Rivera gives her a harrumph. “Nonsense. You either have free will or you don’t.”
“That doesn’t mean free will is connected to your death,” Avery replies. “If you get hit by a car tomorrow and the doctors aren’t able to save you, is that anyone’s fault?”
“Of course it is,” Rivera replies. “The doctors failed to save me.”
“Did they fail or were you beyond saving?” Avery asks.
Rivera frowns. “This isn’t philosophy class, young lady.”
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