Death & Stilettos (Reapers in Heels The Complete Volume 1)

by Krumbine, Jason

  “Annie should feel honored that I have a passing interest in her brother,” Brook continues. “I am a catch.”

  “Can we stop talking about this before I end up saying something that’ll get me into more trouble?” Avery asks. “Besides, you clearly have your hands full with Steven the bartender and your big weekend.”

  Brooke just shakes her head. “Too soon, way too soon.”

  Avery glances at the clock behind the counter. “Well, we can’t hide in here all day and just hope she gets bored and goes away.”

  “And whose fault is that?” Brooke asks.

  Avery’s phone rings. She checks the caller ID first and answers with a smile. “Hey.”

  It’s Jack.

  “Hey yourself,” he says. “Where are you?”

  “At the office, kind of,” Avery says.

  “Kind of?”

  “It’s complicated,” Avery replies, brushing over it. “Why?”

  “Can you get down here?” he asks, meaning Saint Mercy’s Hospital.

  “Is everything okay?”

  “Everything’s great,” Jack says.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Of course I’m sure.”

  “You just never call me in the middle of the day like this,” Avery says.

  “It’s just quiet.”

  “Quiet?”

  “Very quiet,” Jack says, dropping his voice to a conspiratorial whisper that says more than words would. “I thought you might want to stop by.”

  Avery can’t help herself and a sly smile stretches across her face. “Yeah?”

  “Yeah,” he says and Avery’s body automatically responds to him.

  She glances up at Brooke’s who got a knowing look on her face.

  “Now’s really not a good time, though,” Avery quietly says into the phone, trying to look as nonchalant as possible.

  “Can we make it a good time?” Jack asks.

  “I’d love to,” Avery replies. “But Brooke and I are kind of on the clock.”

  Jack sighs. “This is your fault, you know.”

  “I’ve been hearing a lot of that lately.”

  “Last night,” Jack pauses. “Last night was very memorable.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Very.”

  Avery fidgets in her seat. “You have to stop,” she whispers into the phone.

  He pauses for a second. “Is Brooke sitting nearby?”

  “Yes,” Avery simply answers. “Very.”

  “Is it making you uncomfortable?”

  “Very much so,” Avery says.

  Avery can hear him grinning across the phone. “Love you, babe.”

  “Love you, too.”

  Avery hangs up.

  “What was that?” Brooke asks.

  “None of your business,” Avery replies, checking on Shelly Jones.

  “Was that phone sex?” Brooke asks. “Was Jack trying phone sex?” She smiles. “I didn’t know he had such a naughty streak in him.”

  “He doesn’t,” Avery says. “Now stop talking.”

  Brooke frowns. “I don’t know. You were blushing pretty bad on the phone with him.”

  Avery ignores her and keeps an eye on Shelly Jones through the window. “You said the admissions guy mentioned Kristen had a boyfriend?”

  “Yeah. But the widow’s not going to know about that, is she?”

  “Well, the other option is the dead guy we’ve got upstairs who either has a faulty memory or is whitewashing his past for us,” Avery says.

  “Yeah, well, actually there’s one other option,” Brooke says. “We decide we don’t care. We dump the dead guy and collect our stupid bounty.”

  Avery gets to her feet. “Yeah, or we could just talk to the lady and do the right thing.”

  Brooke follows her sister. “Obviously you and I have different interpretations of what the ‘right thing’ is.”

  Shelly Jones sits on the bench, watching a skinhead get questioned by two officers with a bemused expression. Up close Avery sees that she’s closer to fifty-five. The age lines are more obvious, but she’s doing her best to hang on to her youth. She fills out the red suit well to attract a few looks from passing younger men.

  "That's what I want to be when I grow up," Brooke whispers to her sister. "A cougar."

  "Please act like a lady," Avery whispers back.

  "I can't make any promises," Brooke says. "I am what I am."

  Avery rolls her eyes.

  “Mrs. Jones?” Avery says, approaching the older woman.

  Shelly Jones looks up. There are dark bags under her eyes. Her mouth is small, but the red lipstick makes her lips appear fuller than they really are. A flicker of hopeful recognition passes through her eyes. “Yes?”

  “I’m Avery Graves,” she says. “And this is my sister, Brooke. I understand that you might be looking for us.”

  twenty-two

  They don’t take Shelly Jones upstairs to the office where her dead husband is stashed. Instead, the Graves sisters find a table in the corner of Chang’s restaurant. It’s cramped and smells like rice and shrimp. Howard Chang gives them a dirty look, but doesn’t chase them out.

  Shelly Jones pulls a cigarette from her purse. She sticks it in her mouth, but doesn’t light it. “Nervous habit,” she explains. “I don’t actually smoke anymore, but the feel of a cigarette between my lips calms me down when I’m feeling particularly stressed out.”

  Brooke nods her head. "I totally understand the oral fixation thing," she says. "Sucking on almost anything will always calm me down."

  Avery gives her sister a disapproving look. "I don't think Mrs. Jones really wants to hear about your fixations."

  Jones gives her a raised eyebrow and then turns her attention to Avery. “What is it exactly that you ladies do?”

  Avery shrugs. “A little bit of this, a little bit of that. It’s complicated.”

  “I’m a smart woman,” she says. “I can take big words.”

  "I'm pretty sure by this point you know what we do, ma'am," Avery says. "Otherwise you wouldn't be waiting for us outside our office."

  "Oh?" Mrs. Jones pauses and takes an imaginary drag off her unlit cigarette. “Well, in that case, why is my dead husband calling me from your office?”

  “Funny,” Avery says. “I was going to ask you the same thing.”

  Mrs. Jones eyes them for a moment. “Oh, that's cute.”

  "Thank you?" Brooke says, not quite sure how to respond.

  Jones takes the cigarette out and rolls it lazily between her fingers.

  “Okay. You’re grim reapers,” The way she words it, it’s a statement, not a question. “I met one when I was a child. My mother had just died and he had come for her soul. He was an old, scruffy-looking man. I followed him around the house while he hunted down my mother’s soul, half expecting him to climb into the garbage can at the end,” she sizes the sisters up. “You two are a considerable step up from him.”

  “You’ll let me know when you’ve got an actual question,” Avery says.

  “I’ve already asked you one,” she says. “Why did my dead husband call me from your office?”

  She looks at Brooke, sensing a weak link. Brooke throws her hands up.

  “Don’t look at me,” she says. “I didn’t want any part of this.”

  “You make it sound like we’re blackmailing the woman,” Avery says, chastising her sister.

  Mrs. Jones raises an eyebrow. “Are you? Blackmailing me?”

  “What would we have to blackmail you with?” Avery asks.

  Jones' shrugs. “What has my deceased husband told you?”

  Brooke takes this one. “Well, he was really fond of telling us about the time he walked in on you banging the pool boy and how the sight of it killed him.”

  She rolls her eyes. “Please. Did he mention that harpy of a woman he was seeing on the side?”

  Avery pauses a moment. “Would that be Sue?”

  Mrs. Jones scoffs at her. “Is that her
name? Honestly, I never bothered to learn it. All I knew is that he was getting plenty on the side.”

  “Okay, well, I’m confused,” Brooke says.

  “So am I,” Avery says. “Daniel has a slightly different interpretation of his relationship with Sue.”

  “Of course he does,” she says. “He’s a man and terrible one at that,” she takes a moment to fiddle with her hair. “All I really want to know is this: why is my deceased husband making any calls. The man should be enjoying cocktails in Hell by now.”

  Avery takes a deep breath. “Your husband’s concerned about the distribution of his wealth.”

  She stares at her for a minute. “I beg your pardon?”

  “He doesn’t want you to get his money,” Brooke says more plainly.

  Mrs. Jones looks back and forth between the sisters. “This is about that stupid daughter of his, isn’t it?”

  “It is,” Avery confirms.

  She starts riffling through her purse. “Well, I don’t know what he’s paying you,” she stops and looks at Avery. “Actually, how is he paying you?”

  “He’s not,” Brooke says, answering for her sister with a bitter tone.

  “It’s called doing the right thing,” Avery explains. “We like to help bring peace to the recently departed.”

  Brooke points at Avery. “She likes it. I like money and not going hungry.”

  Jones ignores her and focuses on Avery. “The right thing?”

  “That’s what our father taught us.”

  “Was your father a gullible fool, too?” she asks.

  “Tip,” Brooke says, as a shadow falls across her face, “don’t make fun of our Dad. Some of us still have Unresolved Daddy Issues.”

  Jones' closes her purse. “There is no ‘right thing’ in this situation,” she says. “And if there was, you’re certainly not doing it.”

  “Daniel said you wouldn’t be fond of this solution,” Avery says.

  “Well, he’s right,” Mrs. Jones continues. “That brat of a daughter walked out of his life without so much as a glance back. Why should she be rewarded for that?”

  “If it helps,” Avery says. “We don’t really care about the money. We just want Daniel to able to say good-bye to his daughter.”

  She stares blankly at her for a second and then bursts into laughter.

  Avery and Brooke look at each other uncomfortably. The laughter goes on for a full minute. The other customers are starting to look suspiciously towards their table.

  Finally Mrs. Jones calms down and wipes the tears of laughter from her eyes. “Oh, I’m sorry. That was just too rich.”

  Avery glances at the time on her phone.

  “Daniel and Kristen said their good-byes a long time ago,” she says. “It was shortly after they cursed each other out for a solid hour, though.”

  “He seems pretty distraught over their separation,” Avery says.

  She shrugs. “Maybe death does something to you.”

  “Who would have thought it’d be such a life changing experience?” Brooke wonders sarcastically.

  Mrs. Jones gives her a dark look.

  “Look, Mrs. Jones,” Avery says. “I’m gonna cut to the chase here. We just need to know what happened to Kristen.”

  “And why would I know the answer to that, much less help you?”

  “Because we’re already pretty sure we know how her story ended,” Avery says. “We just need some of the finer details. Either way, I don’t think it’s going to affect your inheritance.”

  She thinks it over for a moment.

  Breaking the cigarette in two she asks, “What is it you want to know?”

  “Did Kristen have a boyfriend?”

  Mrs. Jones nods. “Yes. It was something she and Daniel fought over regularly. He was an older man and Daniel didn’t think it was appropriate.”

  “And do you remember his name?” Avery asks.

  “Of course I do,” she says. “He’s my doctor.”

  “He’s your doctor?” Avery repeats.

  She nods her head. “Before I give you this, I want some assurances. I don’t want Daniel calling me anymore.”

  “Not going to be a problem after tonight,” Avery says.

  “And you’re sure Kristen won’t be coming back for her inheritance?” she asks.

  “There’s usually only one reason why someone would drop off the face of the planet as completely as she did,” Avery says.

  “Well, then,” she gathers her items. “Kristen dated my doctor, Kevin Soong.”

  twenty-three

  Daniel Jones is sitting on the edge of the bed, his head bowed. Avery stands over him and Brooke’s by the door.

  “Daniel, why did you send us to Dr. Soong’s office?” Avery asks. Her voice is flat and hard. She doesn’t like when people lie to her.

  “I don’t know,” Daniel whispers while looking down at his feet.

  “And I think you’re lying,” Avery says.

  Brooke speaks up. “You know as well as I do he might not be.”

  Avery looks back at her sister. “You want to get in the middle of this?”

  “I want to collect all of our bounties and treat myself to a nice steak dinner,” Brooke says.

  Avery turns back to the dead guy. “Daniel.”

  He looks up at Avery. Daniel’s face seems extra pale. His eyes are haunted.

  “I,” Daniel hesitates, dragging out the word. He looks past Avery at Brooke and then his gaze drifts around the room, searching for answers. “I don’t remember,” he whispers.

  Brooke walks up to her sister and says quietly, “Traumatic deaths,” she starts.

  “Can leave the soul in an amnesic state,” Avery finishes. “I know.”

  “Okay,” Brooke backs away.

  “I just think it’s convenient that all of a sudden he can’t remember anything,” Avery folds her arms.

  “It’s not that convenient,” Brooke mutters.

  Avery sighs, running a hand through her hair. She follows Brooke back to the doorway. “Okay. What do we know?”

  “That, like everyone else, the Jones’ were a messed up family,” Brooke says, casting a sideways glance back at Daniel. He’s got his head in his hands.

  “Come on,” Avery prompts.

  “Come on what?” Brooke asks, looking at her sister. “What do you want to do? Go back to Soong and ask why he was lying? Who cares? You said it yourself when we were talking to the widow, we know what happened to Kristen Jones. At some point in the last five years she died and nobody noticed.”

  “We don’t know that for sure,” Avery says, but even she doesn’t believe it.

  “Damnit, Avery, pick a side and stick to it,” Brooke snaps. “Don’t we have enough to worry about?” she points to Daniel. “Obviously the guy’s not the saint you want to believe he is. Maybe his daughter had a real good reason for disappearing,” Brooke pulls out the handcuffs with Daniel’s name etched on them. “Let’s just take him to the Waiting Room and let them sort it out in the afterlife.”

  Avery looks at the handcuffs but doesn’t say anything.

  “You said all you wanted to do was reunite this guy with his daughter,” Brooke says. “Well, if she’s dead, this is the only way they’re going to get reunited.”

  Avery closes her eyes and sighs. “Fine,” she takes the cuffs.

  The Waiting Room is empty, save for the Graves sisters and Daniel Jones. There are two doors in the Waiting Room. The brown door is the entrance and exit for people like the Graves sisters. The Red Door is for deceased souls like Daniel Jones. Behind that door is the afterlife.

  The receptionist’s window is closed.

  The sisters sit on either side of Daniel Jones. He has a distant, dazed look in his eyes. His hands are securely bound by the handcuffs with his name etched on them.

  Avery sits there, trying not to feel like she did a half-assed job.

  “Hey,” Brooke says, she’s scrolling through her text messages on her phone, “how
do you spell ‘magic’? Is that with a ‘J’ or a ‘G’?”

  Avery rubs her eyes. “I am seriously not doing this with you right now.”

  “What? It’s a simple question,” Brooke pushes a few buttons on her phone. “I don’t have autocorrect on this thing.”

  “How can you do that?” Avery asks her.

  Brooke looks up from her phone. “What? Send a text message? You can do it, too. All phones can do it these days.”

  Avery points at Daniel. “This is a real situation here.”

  “Not for me,” Brooke says. “I don’t emotionally invest myself into our bounties.”

  “And how do you do that?” Avery asks her.

  Brooke shrugs. “Because I have a life.”

  Avery snorts. “Okay, it’s hardly a life and that’s not a real reason.”

  “It’s as real as you’re gonna get,” Brooke says. She scratches her nose. “Maybe it’s because Dad didn’t take me out with him on jobs. I don’t know. Why do you think I’m always telling you not to bother with the Good Samaritan routine?”

  “Because you’re a cold hearted slut?” Avery suggests.

  “Oh, that’s nice,” Brooke says in a huff.

  “But kind of true,” Avery says.

  “Yeah, well, it’s not really appropriate if you want to have a heart-to-heart, you know what I’m saying?”

  “I don’t want a heart-to-heart,” Avery says. “I just want to know how you can be such a… asshole.”

  “How did we go from being emotionally uninvested to being an asshole?” Brooke asks.

  “Because they’re both essentially the same thing,” Avery says. “And you know it.”

  “Well,” Brooke says, after thinking about it for a moment, “you could be the asshole that’s always too invested. That’s definitely a type of asshole.”

  Avery rolls her eyes and ignores Brooke.

  A minute passes.

  Avery looks at her sister. “How do you not know how to spell ‘magic’?”

  “Um, I’m not a spelling nerd,” Brooke says.

  “And that means you don’t know how to spell ‘magic’?”

  “That’s what I said.”

  “What’s the reference?”