Deader Still: A Bridget Sway Novel (A Paranormal Ghost Cozy Mystery Series)

by Jordaina Sydney Robinson

  Edith glanced between us. “Why is Matthew marking the tests? I thought that Jenny girl was in charge?”

  “Yeah, someone killed her last night.” I squished the panini and a little cheese came out of the side.

  Edith shook her head at me. “What have I told you about only giving me the highlights?”

  I motioned for Sabrina to explain while I finished my lunch. I was looking forward to the day when I could have a meal and the topic of conversation not be how much trouble I was in with Oz or a discussion about who was the most likely suspect in our recent murder investigation.

  “What was the point of that assessment?” Edith frowned at me when she was fully up to date.

  “You’re asking me?” I glanced to Sabrina then back to Edith. “Did I not just give an example of the type of questions that were on the written exam?”

  “I’m getting the sense you’re frustrated, dear.”

  “I have no clue where that comes from,” I mumbled. Edith tutted at me. “I’m thinking about quitting being a productive member of society and forming a band of ghost outlaws with you.”

  Sabrina folded her arms and pouted. “Oh, right. So first you make me root through cow poo and now you’re just leaving me to the GA meetings, community service and general bureaucracy. Thanks, Bridge.”

  Edith patted her leg. “No, dear. Two people don’t make a band, they make a couple. I think Bridget assumed you’d join her. And probably with little encouragement.”

  “Oh.” Sabrina rubbed her chin and blushed slightly. “Sorry, Bridge.”

  I waved off her apology.

  “As much as I would love that, dears, I think you should give it a little longer.”

  “Really?” I asked and Sabrina raised her eyebrows in disbelief.

  “You’ve only been here a short time so you need to fully understand all your options …” Edith tugged on her fringe. “And it helps to have you both employed by the bureau for the moment.”

  “But if we did quit we could come and live with you, right?” I asked.

  “I’m almost offended that you feel you need to ask.” Edith sipped some more of her coffee. “Sabrina, dear, would you like to elaborate on your cow poo comment? It sounds frightfully intriguing.”

  “We went to do a quick search of Derek’s shed this morning to see if we could find the money or a betting stub or something. All we found was a missing bag of fertiliser.”

  “You found the bag?” I asked, feeling vindicated. Score one for Bridget Investigations.

  Sabrina frowned at me. “No, we found it missing. As in, we found that it wasn’t there. And, before you ask, no. I did not find the bag with the money you assumed had been stashed inside.”

  I frowned at her. “There was nowhere else it could’ve been. Did you search them all properly?”

  “Yes.” Sabrina offered me her hand. “Would you like to perform a sniff test?”

  “You actually stuck your hand in that stuff? Without gloves or anything?” I grimaced at Sabrina’s outstretched hand. It might look clean but … “But you can’t mist so maybe someone has hidden that bag in their shed. And you only had ten minutes or so. How thorough can your search really have been?”

  “We need to make sure he placed the bet first, otherwise we’re looking for money that doesn’t exist.” Sabrina retracted her hand and directed her comment to Edith. “That makes sense, right?”

  “She has a point, dear,” Edith said to me and then turned to Sabrina. “But let’s double check the allotments first.”

  “That was such a parental thing to do,” Sabrina grumbled.

  “Well, if you two will act like children …” Something buzzed in Edith’s pocket. She peered inside. “Time to go.”

  “What did you just check?” Sabrina pointed to Edith’s pocket. She was like a police sniffer dog when it came to new information.

  “It’s a tracker.” Edith held up a small device the size of a mobile phone. “That lovely new messenger who delivered Bridget’s assessment letter was a little distracted by the commotion at the funeral, so I swiped it.”

  I gestured to the device that Sabrina was turning upside down, sideways and end over end. “Isn’t he going to notice it’s missing?” I asked.

  Edith pressed her lips together. “I think he’ll assume he lost it in the melee. Hopefully he won’t be too sorely punished.”

  Sabrina held it up to eye level. “How does it work?”

  “It’s like a police radio.” Edith pointed to a couple of the flat dials along its edge. “There are several channels. The messenger’s, the police’s, the GBs’ and some others. Whenever the police or GBs tunnel anywhere they have to submit a tunnelling plan, which includes the name and location of the person they’re tunnelling to apprehend. Anyone on that channel hear it or see the plan.”

  Sabrina momentarily tore her eyes away from the device to glance at Edith. “That’s ridiculous.”

  “No, dear, that’s bureaucracy.”

  “Well, that explains why we’ve not seen hide nor hair of them this week when last week they were on you pretty quickly.” I motioned to the device. “How does it track us?”

  “It doesn’t.” Edith held the device still in Sabrina’s hands and pointed to a small digital display that was currently dark. “For messengers, your location is transmitted to the device from the bureau and the messenger tunnels where it tells them you are.”

  Sabrina paused in her examination. “Who knows where we are?”

  Edith shrugged, an oddly elegant gesture.

  “If that doesn’t track us, how do the GBs know where you are?” I asked and Edith shrugged again. “Okay, so the GBs find out where you are but can’t tunnel to catch you without submitting a tunnelling plan which you hear on the radio-thingy and avoid them?” I asked and Edith nodded. “But why wouldn’t they just skip it once to catch you?”

  “Because they can’t. When they’re on duty everywhere is blocked to them until they’ve filed a tunnelling plan. And they can’t do it out of hours because they have to turn their uniforms in before the end of their shifts, so if they did I’d know their identity. And if their identity becomes known they can no longer be a GB, which is where all the prison wardens come from. After a hundred years they can reapply.”

  “So … they basically make it super easy for criminals?”

  “Dead people are stupid. It’s the monotony. They don’t have to deal with the daily unexpected problems that keeps them mentally agile. Things like dealing with other mentally agile people or human errors or laziness. So they lose the ability to think about doing anything other than what they’re supposed to do, which means they don’t do anything they’re not supposed to do.”

  “Well, that’s depressing,” I said.

  “At least we know it’s not the water,” Sabrina offered.

  “And that’s why it’s so important you try to appear well-adjusted, because if the GBs realise you’re not likely to become a drone then you’re sent to be ‘re-educated’.” Edith made air quotes around the word.

  “Well, that’s depressing,” I mumbled and then snapped my fingers and pointed to Edith as something occurred to me. “Do you know how many planes there are in the afterlife?”

  “No.” Edith stood and offered us her hands. “Now, shall we get this done before the GBs find us?”

  Sabrina cast a quick look my way. Yeah, I didn’t think she was telling us the whole truth there either.

  After discarding the remains of our hastily eaten lunches, Edith tunnelled us to the allotments. We headed for Derek’s shed. The group of men that had been standing around chatting when Sabrina and I had visited earlier were still in exactly the same place. If all of their fingers hadn’t been muddy I’d have assumed they hadn’t moved. Beanpole man was devouring a pack of digestives like they were going out of fashion, oblivious to the mud on his fingers. What if it was compost? I shuddered and looked away. Men could be so gross.

  “Since my searching skills are i
n question, I’ll stay here and eavesdrop while you two look around,” Sabrina said, clearly unperturbed by the biscuit and possible cow poo for lunch combo.

  “I think you may have hurt her feelings, dear,” Edith whispered to me as we left Sabrina and headed to the shed.

  I winced when Edith walked through the shed door with no hesitation. I was getting better at the whole misting thing on the odd occasion I practiced but still wasn’t able to do it without an assault of horrific images of the things that could happen. I scanned Derek’s allotment site while Edith was inside. He had sticks in the ground with something green I couldn’t identify tied to them. Tufts of more green stuck up from the ground in neat rows that formed squares. I wandered around the side and to the back of his patch. His allotment backed onto the high brick wall that encircled the whole allotment area. It obviously still got enough sun to be able to grow things because things were growing. In the middle of the back row there was a square metre of empty soil. Either side had what looked like healthy produce.

  “Maybe it doesn’t get that much sun after all,” I murmured, looking at the bedded-in soil. It was packed flat. “Is that weird?” I asked the tufts of green next to the empty bed. “Do you normally pack the soil down like that in an empty bed? I thought you had to churn it and stuff.” The green tufts didn’t reply. I glanced around for something to disturb the soil with.

  There was a trowel sticking up in the mud in the next plot over. I checked around in case anyone was likely to see the possibly floating trowel and realised I couldn’t see anyone – meaning it was unlikely anyone could see me. I was completely enclosed by the wall behind me and the taller vegetables growing in the neighbouring plots. I nipped across to the plot next door and grabbed the trowel, keeping low as I scurried back to make sure no one would see it floating along.

  I held the trowel over the empty bed and paused. “Please, please don’t let me find a body in here.”

  A few minutes later, covered in mud despite the use of the trowel, I sauntered around to the front of the plot. “Oh, Sabrina?”

  Sabrina turned to look at me. “What happened to you?” she said as she left the chatting men.

  I dusted the mud – I was focusing on it being solely mud and not any form of animal poo – from my hands as Edith poked her head out of the shed. “I’ve found the missing bag of fertiliser,” I said.

  “Is that what you’re wearing?” Sabrina asked, grinning at my dishevelled appearance.

  “Where was it, dear?” Edith stepped fully out of the shed and began trying to dust the muck from my jumpsuit.

  Casually, I gestured behind me. “Oh, it was just at the back of his allotment … covering his winnings from the bet.”

  Edith and Sabrina exchanged a glance and darted around to the back of Derek’s plot. Edith plucked the plastic bag of fifty pound notes from the soil and smiled at me. “Well done, dear.”

  Sabrina put an arm around me and gave me a sideways hug, somehow unperturbed by my muddiness. “Good job, Bridge. I’m proud of you.”

  I smiled back at their grinning faces. Maybe this whole afterlife business wasn’t so bad after all. I looked down at my awful mess of a uniform. Unless I was covered in poo.

  ∞

  We’d taken the money back to Madame Zorina, whose happiness at our success had quickly turned to annoyance at the mud trails I’d left in her office. She’d promised she wait to hand the money over to Rebecca until we could all be there. Before we could set a time I was summoned to the assessment hall.

  There were only three other people in the corridor outside the main hall when I arrived so I took a few minutes to visit the toilets and get cleaned up. I had to take off my jumpsuit and shake it out. Crumbs of mud flew across the floor. I had no idea how I’d managed to get mud everywhere – I’d been using a trowel for heaven’s sake.

  “Fancy seeing you here,” Tommy greeted me when I exited the toilets and wandered along the corridor.

  I threw my hands up, happy to see no chunks of mud flying off me. “I know. It’s so random.”

  “It’s role play this afternoon.” He glanced around at the group. “Do you think we’ll get to question people about the murders again? I quite enjoyed that last time.”

  “You’re so going to fail this assessment. Maybe you’ll get the cell next to mine. We could play I-spy until they brainwash the intelligence out of us.”

  “I don’t really think I-spy takes much intelligence,” Tommy huffed.

  “I think you focused on the wrong part of that sentence.”

  “The part where we’re too brainwashed to play?”

  I nodded. “That would be the part.”

  “Any further ideas on who the murderer is?”

  “Questions like that make me think it’s even more likely to be you.”

  Tommy laughed. “I’ve still not managed to convince you I’m a good guy?”

  “No, you have. That’s why you’re the most obvious suspect,” I said, wagging my finger at him.

  Tommy held up his hands in surrender. “Do you have any suspects other than me?”

  I shook my head helplessly. “Everyone? Do you?” I’d been happy to pin it on Jenny but since she’d kicked it I had no clue.

  “Well, I don’t think it’s you.”

  I nodded sagely. “That’s because you already know it’s you.”

  “You’ve got nothing else?” he asked.

  “I think the GBs knew something fishy was going on here and Jenny was a plant,” I said with a grimace. I didn’t genuinely think Tommy was the killer anymore than I thought Warren was a viable suspect. What could it hurt to share a little? Maybe he’d have some insight.

  “A plant for what?”

  “Something to do with Watson failing everyone.”

  “She was going to fail us? We’d only taken one test before she was killed.” Tommy said, his eyebrows inching upward. “How could she fail us? And how do you know?”

  “I don't for sure but she'd failed everyone she’d assessed up until now so …” I let the sentence hang.

  “And how do you know that?” he asked. He folded his arms but smiled at me.

  “Oh, y’know,” I said with a shrug. “I know things.”

  Tommy’s smile widened but he didn't comment. “Assuming you're right and she was going to fail us and Jenny was sent here to investigate that would surely have made Jenny the target and Watson the killer. But Watson was the first to die.”

  “Oh, was she? I’d completely forgotten.” I gave him a flat stare. “I mean, it wasn’t like I found her or anything.”

  “Right.” He pressed his lips together and looked properly chastised for a moment. “But if the group knew that Watson was about to fail them that means everyone is a suspect.”

  “Exactly, except no one in the group is likely to know that,” I countered.

  “Unless they, y’know, ‘know things’ too,” Tommy mused, not looking at me as he made his little dig but around at the group.

  I followed his gaze. Warren teasing one of the boyband auditionees. “I’m not even sure Watson’s death does have anything to do with the assessments. I can’t see a motive for it other than for the assessment leaders to kill her to pass the year. And since Matthew is the only surviving leader it makes it look like it’s him. You never said what you thought.”

  “I agree with pretty much all of your assumptions.” Tommy nodded. “If you had to put money on one person being the killer, who would it be?”

  “You first.”

  Tommy looked around the group and shook his head. “I can’t pick one. I don’t think they’re smart enough.”

  “That’s exactly why I think it’s you.”

  “I’m taking that as a compliment.”

  I shrugged. “Take it how you like, just don’t kill me.”

  The doors to the assembly hall opened and we all traipsed in. Everyone found their regular desk and sat down. Matthew stood at the front of the hall with Nancy, Hannah and Sabrina.


  “Looks like you’re rubbing off on your friend,” Warren whispered as he passed me to find his seat.

  “What?”

  “She’s got a matching shadow.” Warren nodded in Sabrina’s direction.

  Before I could ask him anything else like, y’know, “What the hell?”, he took his seat, studiously ignored me and pretended to focus on Matthew.

  “This afternoon we’ll be doing your final assessment before your exams. It will be a role play so please put on the costumes that are already on your desks and make a circle.” Matthew did the same thing Jenny had done and drew a circle in the air because obviously we still didn’t know what a circle looked like. Matthew arranged two chairs in the middle and moved back outside the circle while everyone struggled into their costumes. Happily mine was the same one I’d picked last time. There was that silver lining again.

  When everyone was changed Matthew continued, “So today—”

  “I think we should question everyone about Jenny’s murder,” a guy to the right of Tommy spoke up. “There’s still a murderer loose in this group and we need to ferret them out.”

  “Really?” I mumbled. “We’re going to have this discussion again?.”

  The man jabbed his finger at me. “I know why you don’t want to do it.”

  “Because it’s a waste of time? No.” I held up my hand. “Let me guess. Because I’m the murderer, right?”

  “If the cap fits.” The man shrugged.

  “I don’t wear caps.” I turned to Matthew. “Do you maybe want to take charge of this session and tell us what to do? I don’t know, maybe role play like it’s your job?”

  “I don’t need you to tell me my job, Bridget,” Matthew snarled at me.

  “You need someone to,” Sabrina mumbled with a roll of her eyes, which earned her a scowl from Nancy and a jab in the ribs from Hannah.

  “Bridget, you’re up first.” Matthew searched around the circle. “With Jessica.”