Death Wears Stilettos (Reapers in Heels Book 2)

by Jason Krumbine

  “And here it comes,” Avery mutters.

  “There’s nothing in the reaper manual about fishing for and honoring last requests,” Brooke continues. “And that’s what we are. Grim reapers. We shuffle souls along to the afterlife. We deal with the souls that get cold feet or decide to hang around and haunt their loved ones. We don’t honor dying requests.”

  They have a staring contest for a minute and Avery breaks first, turning her gaze back to the receptionist’s window. “You’ve never read the reaper manual.”

  Brooke shifts uncomfortably in her seat. “I had to read it to get certified.”

  “And how many times have you looked at it since then?”

  Brooke avoids her sister’s gaze. “I don’t like to reread things. It’s boring.”

  “Remind me to bow before your superior knowledge later,” Avery says.

  Brooke waves her off. “Whatever. Do your Good Samaritan routine.” She goes back to the magazine. “I don’t know why you had to drag me along.”

  “Because we’re partners,” Avery says.

  “I still get my share of the bounty whether you drag me along on the Good Samaritan train or not.”

  “Not if I’m the one picking up the bounty,” Avery says.

  Brooke looks at her sister. “Oh, that’s real mature.” She shakes her head. “What would you bring to the island?”

  Avery frowns. “What?”

  “The island you’re trapped on? You’re allowed three things,” Brooke says. “Come on, what are you bringing?”

  “Okay, first off,” Avery starts. “A person is not a thing.”

  Brooke shakes her head. “This is not a philosophical discussion,” she says. “It’s a stupid quiz in an even stupider magazine.”

  “And since you’re the one reading it, what does that make you?” Avery asks.

  “A genius,” Brooke replies. “It’s like math. Two negatives make a positive.”

  Avery holds up her hand and starts counting off three fingers. “Jack.”

  “Oh, come on,” Brooke cuts her off. “It’s a what-if scenario. You don’t bring your doctor boyfriend with you on a what-if scenario.”

  Avery looks at her sister and shakes her head. “It’s sad that you think that.”

  A blonde enters the waiting room. Brooke points at her. “Hey, is that the girl?”

  Avery follows her gaze. “Who?”

  “The blonde in the power suit.” She points to the woman standing at the receptionist’s window. She’s dressed in a dark suit and high heels. Her lips are a little too thick, and her chest is a little too big.

  Avery smacks her sister’s hand down. She frowns. “Are you being serious?”

  “Why wouldn’t I be?”

  Avery pulls the picture out from her pocket. It’s the dead man and his daughter. She’s a vibrant redhead. Avery holds the picture in front of Brooke.

  Brooke glances at it. “What?”

  “Are you color blind now?”

  “Maybe?” Brooke says. “Steven the bartender did things to me that I’m not quite recovered from. I’m still feeling tingles all over.”

  Avery rolls her eyes. “We’re looking for a redhead,” She points to the woman at the reception desk. “That’s a blonde.”

  Brooke shrugs. “She might have dyed her hair.”

  “Judging by the picture, she’s also supposed to be flat as a pancake,” Avery points out.

  “That doesn’t mean anything,” Brooke says. “Remember Jan Louis?”

  “Yes.”

  “She barely fills out an A-cup.”

  Avery frowns. “She does not.”

  Brooke nods her head knowingly. “It’s all padding and push up.”

  The sisters stare at the blonde.

  “Personally, I would never do that,” Brooke continues. “False advertising.”

  “Like the men you’re with ever notice,” Avery replies.

  The blonde takes a seat next to the black man. If she notices the sisters staring her, she doesn’t show it.

  Avery shoves the picture back in her pocket. “It’s not her.”

  Brooke gives a little shrug. “I’m just saying, maybe we can make this a little easier on ourselves.”

  “Ms. Graves?” the receptionist calls them.

  Avery gets to her feet and walks over to the window.

  The receptionist is an older woman, surrounded by cat knickknacks on her desk. “Sorry for the wait,” she says. “The doctor will see you now.”

  Doctor Kevin Soong is in his late fifties with a thick, bushy goatee. His hair is mostly gray with flecks of black sprinkled throughout, holdouts from his youth.

  He stands as the Graves sisters enter and offers them his hand.

  “Sorry we were late,” Avery starts.

  “Nonsense,” Soong says. “I’m the one that should be apologizing. It’s not very gentlemanly of me to make you wait all this time.” They all sit down. “I’ve been terribly short staffed ever since my partner went on maternity leave.” He sighs, adjusting the lapels of his white coat. “Can’t be too hard on her, of course, she is having my granddaughter.”

  “You practice with your daughter?” Brooke asks.

  Soong nods, his chest swelling with pride. “I taught her everything I know.” He smiles. “There is nothing more rewarding than knowing your children will be carrying on your legacy in such a literal way. I built this practice with my bare hands. When I retire it’s all hers and, God willing, my granddaughter will follow in her mother’s footsteps.”

  “You must be proud,” Avery says.

  “Extremely,” Soong replies. “I don’t mean to brag, but my daughter is probably one of the best family doctors in this city.” He smiles. “Anyway, I don’t think you’re here to listen to me blather on about my pride and joy.”

  “You got that right,” Brooke mutters.

  Avery discreetly crushes her heel against Brooke’s toes. The younger Graves sister gives a slight squeak, but gets the hint and shuts up.

  “My name is Avery Graves and this is my sister,” Avery starts.

  Soong interrupts, “My receptionist mentioned that you were private detectives?”

  “Something like that,” Avery says, pulling out the photo with the redhead. “We’re looking for the woman in this picture. Her name is Kristen Jones. We believe she used to work for you about six years ago.”

  “Oh my goodness, six years ago?” Soong smiles wistfully. “Ms. Graves, I couldn’t tell you the name of the intern I had working here two months ago.” He takes the picture anyway and studies it for a moment. “She certainly looks familiar. What did you say her name was again?”

  “Kristen Jones,” Avery replies. “We think she probably would have been a secretary. Near as we can tell she didn’t have any medical experience.”

  Soong takes another minute to study the picture.

  Brooke tries to catch her sister’s eye. “Dumb idea,” she mouths.

  Soong shakes his head and hands the photo back. “I’m sorry, I just don’t remember her. If you don’t mind me asking, why are you looking for her?”

  Avery puts the picture away. “Her father recently passed away. Unfortunately, they had been estranged for the last five years. He had no contact information for her and she’s not aware that he’s passed on.”

  “Oh, well, that’s just terrible,” Soong says somberly. “Please, extend my condolences to the family.” He pauses and then asks, “How exactly…?”

  “Did we trace Kristen back to your practice?” Avery finishes for him. “We found an old pay stub lying around,” she says, not skipping a beat. “We figured it was as good a place as any to start.”

  Soong gets to his feet, indicating the meeting’s over. “Well, I really am sorry I couldn’t be of more help.”

  “That’s no problem.” Avery hands him a card. “If you happen to remember anything, please, give us a call.”

  “Well, that was a complete waste of time,” Brooke says as they walk
back to the pink four-door sedan.

  “Hey, it was a lead,” Avery says.

  “Is it really a lead if it doesn’t lead to anything?” Brooke asks.

  Avery stops at the driver’s side of the car. “You know, I’m not sure.”

  Brooke nods. “There should be another word for a lead that doesn’t pan out.”

  “That actually makes a modicum of sense,” Avery admits. “And I’m not sure how that makes me feel.”

  Brooke smiles. “Also,” she starts to get in the car. “It’s double worse since we couldn’t run into this dead end last night.”

  “Yeah,” Avery agrees, sliding in behind the steering wheel. “There just was too much anticipation built up for this.”

  “Well, I don’t know that I would go with that word,” Brooke says. “You know, I could have gotten a whole ‘nother hour or two with Steven the bartender this morning.”

  Avery starts up the car. “Am I supposed to feel sorry for you or something?”

  “You should if you’re going to live vicariously through me.”

  four

  The Graves sister’s office is located above a 24 Hour Chinese takeout restaurant. It’s the same office their father used when he was running the family business. The Chinese takeout used to be an Italian takeout and before that it was a nail salon and before that it was a candy shop where Avery and Brooke wasted away the formidable days of their youth.

  Brooke follows Avery up the stairs. “So, we’ve made an effort, right?

  “Not really,” Avery says. She stops in front of the office door and fishes out her keys.

  “It’s not like we had a lot to go on,” Brooke says as Avery opens the door. “And, clearly, the girl doesn’t want to be found.”

  The front room of the office has a leather sofa that looks like it was picked up at a garage sale in Hell. There’s a small desk off to the side where their mother used to sit when she worked as a secretary for their father back in the day. Around the corner there’s a small kitchenette and two other doors.

  Avery hangs her jacket up.

  “Let me put it to you this way,” Brooke says, trying a different tactic. “I do not want to get kicked out of my apartment.”

  “You’re not going to get kicked out of your apartment.” Avery picks up the mail on the floor. Bills, bills and an Avon catalogue.

  “That would be true,” Brooke agrees. “Except for one thing.”

  “Yeah?” Avery says, dropping the mail on the desk.

  “I haven’t paid rent in, like, three months.”

  Avery stares at her sister. “Three months?”

  Brooke shrugs. “At first, I flashed my landlord a little deep cleavage...”

  Avery drops her head into her hands. “I can’t believe this.”

  “The next month I made sure to sunbathe on the roof in that bikini I bought,” Brooke continues. “The purple two piece with the strings?”

  “I’m familiar with the swimsuit,” Avery says. “Despite the fact that it hardly counts as legal swimwear.”

  “And then last month,” Brooke says. “Well, I just didn’t pay rent.”

  “And you did what instead?”

  “Nothing.”

  Avery frowns.

  “The landlord’s been giving me dirty looks,” Brooke explains.

  “I wonder why...” Avery mutters.

  “I mean, there’s a line,” Brooke continues.

  “Really? Because this is the first time you’ve mentioned it,” Avery says dryly.

  Brooke folds her arms. “I’d just rather pay my rent in cash this month is all.”

  “Like any normal person.”

  “Exactly.”

  Avery shakes her head. “I think you missed my sarcasm.”

  “No. I was just ignoring it.”

  “The man wants to see his daughter one more time before he moves on,” Avery says. “Is that too much to ask for?”

  She opens one of the closed doors. There’s a dead man sitting on a bed watching Happy Days reruns.

  Brooke peeks over her sister’s shoulder. “It is when we’re illegally holding him and not turning him over to the afterlife.”

  The dead guy’s name is Daniel Jones. He’s the man in the picture with Kristen Jones. Daniel’s a short man with a dour-looking face and a head rapidly thinning of hair. He seems to have a permanent expression of somebody who’s just been told they’ve got three months to live.

  Daniel’s dressed in the last outfit he’ll ever wear: a blue polo shirt with a tiny alligator stitched over the left breast, a pair of crisp khaki’s and a brown sports coat. His skin is pale and he’s got dark circles surrounding his eyes.

  At 6:30 yesterday morning Daniel Jones walked in on his wife having sex with the neighbor’s pool boy and immediately died of a heart attack.

  Daniel turns and sees the sisters. His expression brightens, although his eyes were still stuck in their downward position.

  Daniel also sees the little stick sigils that have been taped up around the doorway, but he pays them no attention.

  “Did you find her?” he asks. Daniel’s voice has a pitiful whine that’s pitched almost perfectly due to years of practice.

  “No,” Avery starts.

  “Because it wasn’t a real lead,” Brooke cuts in. “How do you not know where your daughter is? Are you trying to win Worst Father of the Year award?”

  Daniel shrinks back and looks like he’s about to burst into tears.

  “Okay, Brooke, why don’t you get us something to drink,” Avery suggests.

  “I’m not thirsty,” Brooke says, leaning against the wall. She gives Daniel the evil eye.

  “Well, I am,” Avery says.

  “Actually, I’m a little parched as well,” Daniel chimes in.

  “You’re also a little dead,” Brooke says. “Do you know what dead people drink?” She pauses for a second, pretending to wait for an answer. “I don’t because I’ve never visited the afterlife, which is where you’re supposed to be.” She turns to Avery. “Look, we know I’m not big on rules.”

  “That’s an understatement,” Avery interjects.

  “But even I think this is a bad idea,” Brooke finishes.

  Avery looks at Daniel. “One moment.” She pushes Brooke back out to the front office. “You need to get on board with this.”

  “No I don’t,” Brooke says. “You’re not the boss of me.”

  “It’s not healthy when we don’t present a united front,” Avery says.

  “Please. The guy’s dead,” Brooke says. “We’re not supposed to hang on to dead souls and not only have we hung on to him, but we’ve been hanging on to him since last night. If we get caught with Danny the Dead Guy here-”

  Avery cuts her off. “We are not going to get caught.” She pauses. “The man just wants to say good-bye to his only daughter. I think it’s the least we can do.”

  “Actually, I think the least we can do is drop him off at the Waiting Room and collect our money,” Brooke says. “That’s the least we can do.”

  “And what if he was our Dad?” Avery asks.

  Brooke folds her arms. “Oh, is that what this is about? Unresolved Daddy issues?”

  “I’m not the one who was busy hooking up with a dirtbag loan shark when Dad died,” Avery replies.

  “That’s right, I was.”

  “That doesn’t help your case,” Avery points out.

  “And I don’t have any unresolved Daddy issues,” Brooke says.

  “Please, you have so many unresolved Daddy issues they could write an entire series of family therapy books based on you,” Avery replies.

  “My point is-” Brooke starts.

  “I was hoping we’d get around to that.”

  “-if I don’t have unresolved Daddy issues, why should you?” Brooke finishes. “Let’s just dump Danny the Dead Guy and call it a day. There’s that mall that opened up downtown. They’ve got a Suzy’s Shoes there and soft pretzels.”

  “Wh
y would a Suzy’s Shoes sell soft pretzels?”

  “They don’t,” Brooke says. “The mall does. Come on, girl’s day out. My treat.”

  “With what money?”

  “The money that I’m going to get when we turn in Danny the Dead Guy,” Brooke says, tracing out a circle in the air. “See what I did there? Brought it all back around.”

  Avery shakes her head. “No.”

  “Come on.”

  Avery pretends to think about it for a moment and then says, “No.”

  Brooke sighs. “Well, at least you gave the illusion of considering my opinion this time.”

  “And I think we can call that progress,” Avery says.

  Brooke rolls her eyes. “Whatever. I’m going downstairs. Chang owes me a free meal.”

  five

  Avery grabs a chair and sits down across from Daniel, who’s still on the bed. It’s a twin-sized bed. It was once a place for their father to crash when he worked late nights.

  But that was then and this was now.

  Now it’s an empty spare room with boxes along the walls and furniture covered in a layer of dust.

  “Daniel,” Avery starts. She’s got a notepad resting on her leg and a pen in hand, but her attention’s focused on the dead man. “I want to help you. I really do. But you need to help us. Dr. Soong didn’t remember your daughter, so we need something else. Tell me about her.”

  Daniel sighs, looking down at his hands, like the answers to his problems were written in his palms.

  “She stopped talking to me when I remarried,” Daniel says. “Kristen didn’t like Shelly from the moment she met her. I didn’t listen to her, of course. All I knew was that I had been so lonely since Kristen’s mother died and now, for the first time in years, another woman was finally interested in me.” He looks at Avery. “Are you married?”

  “No,” Avery says. “Boyfriend, though.”

  Daniel nods absently and his gaze drifts away. “It’s different after you’ve been married for almost twenty years. In an instant my partner, my best friend was gone. I was old and I had a sixteen-year-old daughter. Who would even want me?” He pauses, caught in a sad memory. “Then Shelly came along. And Kristen hated her. I didn’t care. A woman was finally interested in me. Kristen was turning twenty, and I wasn’t getting any younger. The next thing I knew, Shelly and I were getting married and my daughter was gone and I had no idea where she went.”