She flicked the lights off and I walked three quick steps towards the back right corner of the room. Hands out in front of me, I shuffled until I felt the wall. Keeping one hand on the back wall and one reaching for the right wall, I felt my way into the corner then crouched down. There were some mumbled apologies and a few grunts where people had collided but no screams this time. The thirty seconds dragged on.
Finally the lights came back on and I sprung up out of my corner and stepped into the centre of the room with everyone else. The lights were on for a couple of seconds before everyone around me dropped to the floor. And I mean, everyone. The only people standing were Jenny, Gracie, Matthew, Nancy and me.
Jenny stared at the mass murder victims and then back up at me. “Bridget, do you think this is a game?”
“Technically, it is. But I didn’t do this,” I said as I gestured around the room.
Jenny swept her arm across the room at the group members who were lifting their dead heads up to see what was happening. “You’re the only one standing.”
Surely, surely she wasn’t that stupid. Surely. “Which should only prove I didn’t do it.”
“Bridget, your defence is that you look guilty so you obviously aren’t?” Gracie asked, her head tilted as if she were listening to something on a different frequency. It made me wonder if they had emotional bonds to all of us like Oz’s. That would so not be cool.
“If I did this would I still be standing up, ready to take the blame?” I threw my hands up, defeated by their mass stupidity. “This is just ridiculous.”
“I know.” Warren pushed to his feet, shaking his head. “Who would do such a thing?”
I pursed my lips at him. “I wonder.”
“Right,” Jenny snapped. “Everyone up. We’re going to do this one last time and if you morons can’t get it right then you all fail.”
“I understand you’re frustrated.” Tommy addressed Jenny in a tone that said he was used to dealing with conflict. And effectively. “But I take exception at being called a moron because you four can’t organise this properly.”
“We can’t organise it?” Gracie shrieked at Tommy. “It’s all of you that are getting it wrong. And Bridget. It’s always Bridget.”
“What?” I stared at Gracie, who had gone from seemingly calm to psychotic in less than a second. “How is this down to me?”
“You’re always the instigator!” Gracie shrieked and stamped her foot. “Always.”
“I’m sorry. Are you an example of what being well-adjusted looks like, because …?”
Gracie shrieked and jerked forward, I assumed to attack me somehow, like the reasonable, well-adjusted team leader she was, but Matthew grabbed her arm and held her back as Tommy jumped in front of me.
“Now, now.” Tommy held up both of his hands as if he were dealing with a wild animal. “Let’s not get irate.” I was sure I detected a hint of goading underneath his oh-so-reasonable tone. Oh yes, once I’d cleared him as a suspect, I was making him my friend.
“Okay.” Jenny stepped back to the light switch, completely ignoring that drama. “This is the last time, so let’s get this right.”
I glanced around me before the lights went out but there was no easy escape route for me this time. People surrounded me on all sides. Before I could even formulate a plan, darkness descended once again. I turned to face the right wall, waved my hands out in front of me and four quick steps and two collisions later I made it. Using the wall, I felt my way to the front of the room and ducked down in the nearest corner once again.
The seconds dragged on. I heard someone grunt nearby so I pressed a little further into my corner so I wouldn’t get nudged and no one would trip over me. A cold hand clasped my wrist and dragged me up. Something solid with finger grooves was slapped into my palm. Someone fell into me and grabbed at the front of my jumpsuit. I shrieked. I couldn’t help it. It was dark and I was freaked out. I pushed them off me before they could do I-didn’t-know-what. And then I was blinking in the sudden glare of the brightness as the lights flicked back on.
“Right.” Jenny stood at the light switch, blinking and scanning the room. “Let’s see what we’ve got.”
The crazy-eyed girl who’d been talking to her nails earlier slowly lifted her arm to point over Jenny’s shoulder at me. She opened her mouth and let forth a banshee-esque scream. Jenny whirled around, eyes wide in panic before she’d even taken in the scene.
Blood, once again, stained sections of my jumpsuit. Several bloody handprints stood out along my mauve sleeves and a pool of blood grew around my shoes. And I was standing over a dead body with a bloody knife in my bloody hands. I couldn’t help but sigh. And then they all screamed.
Chapter Fourteen
“I’ve never caught anyone red-bloody-handed.” Johnson grinned across the table from me, pointing to my stained hands.
Jenny hadn’t let me out of the room to wash the blood off. I’d wiped the majority onto my jumpsuit the best I could but the taint was still there. I could see it clogging up beneath my nails, and that more than anything made me feel queasy. I hated having dirty nails. I focused on that because otherwise I’d think about what was making them dirty and how it got there. And frankly, without ice cream, chocolate, alcohol and probably a little therapy, that was just not going to end well for my sanity and me.
“Have you ever thought about redecorating?” I placed my hands in my lap to hide my nail shame and looked around the room. “Fluorescent lights aren’t anybody’s friend. Maybe just some new lighting fixtures.” I turned back to the detective, who was staring at me. “Or a coat of paint.”
We were in our usual interrogation room with all the usual suspects. Officer Leonard stood in front of the two way mirror, Johnson sat opposite and Oz was sitting next to me, a frown deeply etched on his face. It was a new look for him. He normally let this stuff slide right off him. He’d shown up at the police station without me even calling. Guess my little freak out hadn’t levelled out before I’d got there.
Several emotions had chased each other across Oz’s face when he saw me before anger settled into place. Anger with a dab of relief. He hadn’t hugged me but I was pretty sure if I’d have given the slightest inkling I was going to cry he’d have picked me up and taken me home. I couldn’t decide if I found that offensive or comforting. Of course, we still had to have the in-the-closet-with-Pete chat so maybe I was better off with the detective.
Johnson watched me with critical eyes. “Are you trying for the insanity plea?”
“What do you think, Officer Leonard?” I pointed to the ceiling, ignoring Johnson. “Not spotlights because the space is too small, but maybe a couple of smaller hanging lights?”
“Spotlights would be better for interrogations.” Officer Leonard looked up at the ceiling, arms behind his back as he rested against the two-way mirror. “But I’m sure you can get smaller, detachable shades for them to soften the light for other occasions.”
“Multi-purpose.” I snapped my fingers and pointed to Officer Leonard. “That’s some good thinking there, Officer. I can see why you’re in charge.”
Officer Leonard’s regular amiable smile stretched into something I thought was real.
“He’s not in charge here.” Johnson slapped the desk with an open palm. “I am.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Really? Then what about some cushions for these seats? Or better yet, a whole new table and chairs set?”
Johnson’s attention flicked to Oz. “What’s going on here?”
“To me it looks like she’s protesting being pulled in here yet again by ignoring your questions because she’s already given a statement to the officer at the scene,” Oz said. “And despite the situation in which the body was discovered, the evidence against her is circumstantial at best. She’s got no motive to kill Gracie. The lights were out so no one actually saw what happened. Gracie was stabbed and stumbled as she reached out for help. Gracie could have stumbled into anyone. It’s simply unfortunate
for Bridget that it was her.”
“It was unfortunate for Bridget it was her?” Johnson repeated. “Maybe it was simply unfortunate that Bridget couldn’t get away from her victim before the lights came back on.”
I was about to correct the detective and make him call me Miss Sway again because I just did not like the way he said my name, but Oz leaned forward and rested his elbows on the desk all sinewy and sleek like a feline predator. I figured it was best to keep my mouth shut, let him handle it and just be very grateful I wasn’t currently the focus of his attention.
“You have her statement.” Oz tapped the brown folder with his forefinger, his voice low and oh-so-calm. “Gracie stumbled into Bridget. Bridget tried to reach out and stop her from falling but caught hold of the knife handle. The lights came back on. Now I’m taking my ward home.”
Oz stood, his hand wrapped gently around my bicep, and pulled me up at the same time. In normal circumstances I’d have shaken him off but life, and the afterlife, was about picking your battles, and since Oz was currently fighting mine for me I figured that just would’ve been plain rude. And, y’know, he was a little scary.
“I didn’t say you could leave.” Johnson leapt to his feet and stood between us and the door. He extended his right arm to the wall and leaned on it, effectively blocking our path. I might push my luck with Oz all the time and go behind his back a little but I would absolutely not out and out challenge him when he was in this mood. Not ever. I was a feminist, not an idiot. I glanced to Officer Leonard. He was watching, purposefully not getting involved. Well, that just wasn’t going to fly.
“Officer Leonard?”
“Yes, Ms Sway?”
“I’ve had a terribly long day and I’m feeling quite emotional, what with a dead woman’s blood still all over me. Do you have any more questions for me or would it be okay if Mr Salier took me home now?”
Officer Leonard’s always friendly smiled stretched into something genuine. He knew what I was doing. “No, Ms Sway. You go on home. Wash up and get some rest.”
“Thank you, Officer Leonard.” I gave him my most appreciative smile, just enough teeth and happy eyes. “If I think of anything else that’s not in my statement, I’ll get Mr Salier to contact you.”
Officer Leonard inclined his head. “I’d appreciate that, Ms Sway.”
Johnson didn’t move out of the way. “I’ve not finished questioning the suspect.”
Officer Leonard stepped away from the mirror and placed a hand on Johnson’s left shoulder. “Let them go.”
Johnson knocked Officer Leonard’s hand off. “No.”
“It wasn’t a request.” Officer Leonard stepped back and opened the door for us. “Don’t mistake my good manners for lack of authority in this situation.” Officer Leonard made a sweeping gesture towards the door. “Ms Sway.”
I moved to step around Johnson but he stepped with me, blocking my path. “Really?” I asked. “The boss said we could go. Twice.”
Johnson’s face reddened to the colour furious but after a pause he stepped aside. I walked past and politely dipped my head at Officer Leonard, who mirrored the gesture back to me. Oz followed me out and we walked in silence to the departures room.
Oz tunnelled us home and we landed in the back garden like usual. It was empty. The night was mild and despite the lateness there was still just enough light to see. Oz, stony faced, pointed to the deckchair. I didn’t have the energy to fight him tonight. I did as I was told. Something about the canvas seat always made me feel less than secure. Made me wonder if he did it on purpose.
“Do you want to tell me what that was?” he asked before my bottom was even fully settled in the material.
“What what was?”
“Asking Leonard if I could take you home.” Oz folded his arms and stared down at me. The set of his jaw and intense storm in his ocean coloured eyes declared loud and clear that he wasn’t happy. As if I couldn’t tell from his tone. At least he’d left feline predator Oz at the station.
“Am I in trouble here? Why am I in trouble here?” I looked around the garden at the bushes for an explanation. Oddly, none was forthcoming.
“Don’t side with the GBs, Bridget. Ever. Don’t ask them for help. Don’t get involved with them in any way. Don’t you remember they were the ones who used you as bait to find a killer and then gave you ten years community service for your trouble?”
“I was just trying to get us home before you beat Johnson to a pulp.”
Oz’s eyebrows inched up. “You thought that was what I was going to do?”
“I didn’t know what you were going to do but what I did was put Johnson in his place and get us home in one move.”
Oz’s voice dropped lower. “That’s not your job, Bridget. Your job is to adjust to this place. My job is to help you and to keep you safe. Not only from the harem of murderers that you seem to be collecting but from the police and the GBs as well if need be. You don’t deal with them. I deal with them.”
“That’s why you’re mad?” I stared at him. “Because I fended for myself for a moment?” I sat in the deckchair my mouth hanging open, not really sure what to say. I was too surprised to think of a good comeback. Honestly, I was too surprised to really even be angry.
“You asked permission from the GBs. We didn’t need their permission to leave. I didn’t need their permission to take you home. You implied you were answerable to them. You’re not. You’re answerable to me. I decide when you stay and when you go. Me. Not you. Not them. You don’t make those decisions, Bridget. I make them for you.”
“You make my decisions for me?” Okay. Maybe I was a little angry after all.
“In these situations? Yes.” Oz moved his hands to his hips. “Actually in most situations, yes. You don’t understand the ramifications. You don’t understand what you just did.”
“Well, y’know why that is, don’t you, Mr Parole Officer, sir?” I pushed myself up from the chair and stood in front of him, hands on my hips, matching his posture. “Because no one has bothered to fill me in on the ramifications. When I ask about something and you say ‘don’t do it because the ramifications are harsh’ I ask ‘how harsh’ and all of you, all of you, simply repeat ‘harsh’. That tells me nothing. I have no guidelines. I have no idea of consequences to make balanced decisions. On anything. Do you have any idea how hard that makes things? The only thing you all talk about is how I need to ‘adjust’ but how can I adjust without knowing the parameters? That’s just not realistic. So, y’know what? If I want to make nice with the GB who likes me to get my own way then that’s exactly what I’ll do. Because that I understand. And if you have a problem with it, then that’s exactly what it is. Your problem.”
Oz’s voice dropped dangerously low. “Don’t push me here, Bridget.”
“Don’t push you?” I stared at him. “You’re kidding, right?”
“I’m bending. I’ve bent—”
“No. You’ve bent me. You tell me to be friends with my housemates, so I put aside my desire to be left alone and I try. You tell me I have to sit with you all and watch movies once a week when I’d rather pull out my eyeballs with a corkscrew, but I do it. You tell me I have to go to GA meetings every night to learn to ‘adjust’, and I go. You tell me to blow your goddamn whistle when I’m in trouble, and I blow it.” I yanked the whistle from around my neck, snapping the chain, and slapped it to his chest. “Occasionally you come.” That was uncalled for because he’d only not come once and that wasn’t really his fault, but I was mad so I didn’t really feel like being reasonable. “You tell me that—”
“That you’re not allowed to socialise outside of your housemates and you do it anyway.” Oz grabbed the whistle I’d slapped to his chest. “I tell you that you have to request items through proper channels and you go and steal all your makeup back from your previous life. I tell you that you’re not allowed to interact with alive people and you get involved with a medium. I tell you to be careful and you put yourself in da
nger. Repeatedly. I tell you that I’m the one who makes decisions about your welfare because I have all the information and you go and side with the GBs—”
I threw my hands up in frustration and attacked the one thing in that list of infractions that was going to get me into the least amount of trouble. “I didn’t side with them over you. I just wanted to get back to this dismal, empty, one room I now have to call home so I can wash a dead woman’s blood off my hands.” I held them up so he could see. “I don’t get what you don’t understand about that. I just wanted to go home.” I wasn’t exactly sure when it happened but I felt the tears running down my cheeks. I was betting I didn’t look anything near as attractive as Alex version 2.0 when he’d cried. Not thinking about the blood on my hands I swiped roughly at my cheeks. The dried blood and wet tears no doubt leaving gross pink streaks on my face. I didn’t know what else to do. I stood there and sobbed.
It took Oz a few seconds to react. I didn’t need his emotional radar to feel his surprise. He wrapped me up in his arms and held me. He didn’t say anything for a long time. He just held me while I cried. I knew somewhere in the back of my mind I’d be mortified about this in the morning but at that moment I was just so tired.
“It’ll be okay,” he whispered, stroking my hair. “Everything is going to be okay.”
“How do you know?” My voice came out muffled since my face was pressed into his chest.
“Because there’s no other option.”
I tilted my face back so I could look into his eyes. “Can I keep my makeup?”
He tilted his head down, kissed my forehead then looked me in the eye with a hint of a smile. “No.”
∞
I woke with an arm draped across my neck. My first thought was Oz. Which actually wasn’t a happy thought since I couldn’t remember doing anything whatsoever that would mean him waking up in my bed, let alone nearly crushing my trachea. Then I felt a pair of arms wrapped around my legs and a head resting on my hip. The way the limbs were positioned I was sure there was at least two other people in bed with me, maybe three. Trying not to panic, I squinted my eyes open and looked around. I felt the head lift off my hip.
Deader Still: A Bridget Sway Novel (A Paranormal Ghost Cozy Mystery Series) Page 17