Graves and Golf Carts

by Annabel Chase

  The goddess tucked a loose strand of frosted brown hair behind her ear. “It’s not about what I personally believe. It’s about what’s best for Divine Place. Right now it’s best for the villagers to believe that everything is under control and that they’re safe.”

  “They’re all adults. You don’t think they can handle the uncertainty?”

  “We’re in supernatural purgatory, Marshal Worthington. We’ve been dealing with uncertainty for our entire time here. The important thing is to provide a sense of order and routine, lest things spiral out of control. Do you know how difficult it would be to wrangle a horde of werewolves? Or subdue a group of unruly vampires? I may be a goddess, but I’d have my work cut out for me, I can guarantee you that, and you wouldn’t like to live here during the fallout.”

  “What would happen to this place if you ascended?” I asked. “Do you think it would fall apart?”

  Hera clasped her hands primly in front of her. “I have a contingency plan in place, should that ever come to pass.”

  I smiled. “Of course you do.”

  “You know what? I have a spa appointment now that I’m much too busy for. It sounds like you have a brief hole in your schedule. Why don’t you take it? My gift to you for your hard work thus far.”

  I balked. “You’re offering me your spot at the spa?”

  “It’s only half an hour, but I assume something is better than nothing.”

  “Not when it comes to weight gain.” I flashed a smile, the kind mixed with pity and gratitude that I usually reserved for nuns and women with small children. “But I’d be delighted to take your place.”

  Chapter Twelve

  It occurred to me on my way to the spa that I should’ve asked Hera for clarification on what her appointment entailed. Knowing the austere goddess, she was probably scheduled to have more ice pumped into her veins. That wasn’t what I considered a relaxing half hour.

  After checking in, I was directed to a private room and settled into the spa chair. I sipped a ready-and-waiting gin and tonic, taking the time to review everything I knew so far about Helen-Mary’s case. I realized that it made sense to kick back and ruminate on the information. I once dated a guy in a band who swore his best lyrics came to him when he was in a relaxed state. Of course, that was also his excuse when I found him in bed with someone else. He was more excited by the line for his new song than the fact that I’d caught him. Apparently, he’d been trying to think of a good rhyme for ‘thumping my chest like a gorilla in the mist’ and was inspired by my reaction to add ‘I be turning heads like Linda Blair’s in The Exorcist.’ He even credited me on the album. Prick.

  As I was easing into a meditative state, I noticed a shadowy figure in the doorway and waited a moment for someone to enter. Although the shadow lingered, no one came into the room.

  “Amie?” I called. “Is that you with my lemon wedge?”

  Barney’s head popped into the room. “There you are, Marshal Worthington,” he said with a note of discomfort.

  I groaned. “You’ve got to be kidding me.” I shook my glass. “I still have half a drink left and there’s no stuff on my face yet.”

  The mage took a long, hesitant step into the room. “My deepest apologies, but Hera has requested your presence straight away in her office.”

  “I just saw her. Is this a joke because it’s not very funny?”

  “It’s not a joke. In fact, it’s rather important,” he said quietly.

  “When is it not important?” I muttered. “She’s like the goddess who cried werewolf. One of these days, she’s going to claim something’s important and I’m not going to believe her. Then we’ll see.”

  Barney shifted awkwardly. “You’re going to want to believe this one.”

  “Fine, but I’m taking this to go.” I held up my cocktail and hopped out of the chair. “Someone break the news to Amie that we need to reschedule.” Again.

  Reluctantly, I followed Barney out of the spa and down the street to the HOA office. The mage seemed particularly jumpy.

  “Can you tell me anything?” I asked. “You seem weirded out by whatever this is.”

  Barney avoided my gaze. “We have visitors.”

  “You have visitors every day. These villagers have too much time on their hands if they want to spend it complaining that their neighbor’s mailbox isn’t positioned at a ninety-degree angle.”

  Barney didn’t laugh. Instead, he turned to face me with an anguished expression. “I don’t know what’s going to happen, Eloise, but I hope you know that I’ve really enjoyed getting to know you.”

  An icy shiver ran through me and it wasn’t from my cold drink. “Barney, what’s going on? Why would you feel the need to tell me that? That’s absurdly nice and unnecessary.”

  He didn’t answer. We entered the HOA building in silence and continued to Hera’s office. I’d never seen Barney so jittery, even after that time I watched him eat half a bag of chocolate-covered coffee beans thinking they were almonds. The mage was always a little scattered, but this was different.

  “Here she is now,” Hera said, motioning for me to enter. “I told you she’d come without incident. Marshal Worthington, I’d like you to meet our three visitors. They’re from upper middle management.”

  “Upper middle management,” I repeated, my eyes trained on the bureaucratic trio. The only one I could identify by sight was the angel thanks to his wings. They each wore a suit in a neutral color. The angel wore beige with a pale pink tie. The female wore a black suit with a red tie. The other male wore a grey suit with a blue tie.

  “Eloise Worthington from Chipping Cheddar, Maryland, USA?” Mr. Beige asked, studying me.

  “No,” I said slowly. “I’m the goddess of good and plenty.” I curtsied.

  “I’m not familiar with that goddess,” Miss Black said. “What’s your origin story?”

  “I was orphaned at a young age and trained as an assassin, but you’ll be pleased to know I have a heart of gold.”

  Mr. Beige squinted at me. “That sounds more like Nikita.”

  “Oh, I don’t think Nikita had a heart of gold,” Barney interjected.

  The three visitors silenced him with matching somber looks and the mage practically melted into the wall.

  “What’s this about?” I asked. “Do you need my prowess in martial arts?”

  Miss Black stepped forward. Her brown hair was pulled so tightly into a bun that I worried for the oxygen trying to reach her brain. “According to your file, the only skills you’ve mastered include body shots and petty theft.”

  “Hey, in my defense, that beef jerky fell into my bag,” I said heatedly. “I had no idea it was in there until I got home.”

  Mr. Beige looked at his companions. “Incredible. It’s just as the letter described. She’s definitely one hundred percent human.”

  “I could tell that from her smell,” Miss Black said with a disgusted expression. “There’s a reason I stick to the supernatural division.”

  “Okay, no need to insult me,” I said. “My neck might have a kink in it thanks to the spa time interruption, but my ears work fine.”

  “Miss Worthington, we’ll need you to run through every detail of your death to your experience in Divine Place,” Mr. Grey said.

  I glanced helplessly at Hera. “Now? I sort of have things to do.” I drained my gin and tonic and set the glass on the corner of Hera’s desk. The goddess moved at Zeus-lightning speed to slide a coaster beneath it. “I’m solving an obliteration.”

  The trio frowned in unison.

  “She’s been invaluable in helping us identify unsavory elements in the village,” Hera added quickly. “As an unsavory character herself, she understands how the criminal mind works.”

  “Hey!” I said.

  The goddess ignored my outburst. “My office is far too small for such a serious discussion. Why don’t you three find a comfortable table at The Muffin Man around the corner and Miss Worthington will join you shortly?”


  “Why doesn’t she join us now?” Miss Black asked.

  Hera looked down her nose at them. “Because she owes me paperwork and you know how important paperwork is to the efficient operation of a village.”

  “We do,” Mr. Grey agreed. “We’ll expect you there in fifteen minutes, Miss Worthington.”

  They brushed past me and left the office. I waited until they were gone to retrieve my glass and dump the ice into my mouth. I needed every last drop of gin in that glass right now.

  “That was unexpected,” Hera said.

  I crunched an ice cube. “No kidding. I was about to enter the zone at the spa. I might’ve been able to crack the case.”

  Hera appeared unconvinced. “Their timing is not ideal.”

  “Oh, really? Are you suggesting you didn’t fire off a strongly worded letter to your boss in an attempt to give me the heave ho?”

  The goddess looked stricken. “I’m not responsible for this, I assure you.”

  “Nice try. You’ve been wanting to get rid of me from the moment I landed in the cricket field. I guess you decided to seize your opportunity.”

  “I had no hand in this,” Hera insisted.

  “Then who did? They said someone sent a letter. That means they didn’t know about me until someone told them. I have a hard time believing you let anyone else have contact with outside channels.” The goddess was far too much of a control freak.

  Hera drummed her fingers on the edge of her desk. “I think whoever did this might be our murderer.”

  I jerked my head toward her. “Come again?”

  “They must be concerned that you’re going to solve the case,” Hera said. “And this is the killer’s way of sidelining you.”

  “But how?”

  “We sent a batch of correspondence yesterday,” Hera said.

  I blinked rapidly. “And the visitors turned up today? Talk about express mail.”

  “This is the afterlife, Marshal Worthington. Time doesn’t work the same way here.”

  “Wouldn’t you notice a letter that didn’t belong?”

  “Not necessarily. There’s a basket in the lobby for submissions. We send correspondence on a weekly basis. I doubt Randolph pays any attention.”

  “What kind of correspondence?”

  “Mostly letters to loved ones in other places in the hopes they might receive them. We never know for sure.”

  “You don’t receive any letters back?”

  She shook her head. “No, the silence contributes to the uncertainty in purgatory.” She shook a finger, still thinking. “I bet someone included a letter to the Powers-That-Be about you and it slipped past my office.”

  “If that’s possible, then why didn’t you send one?” I asked.

  Hera glanced at me. “I’ve been waiting to see if the glitch got straightened out on its own, without intervention. I know you think I enjoy playing puppet master…”

  “You’re a Greek goddess,” I said. “It’s in your job description.”

  “The truth is that I would have preferred to let your situation play out naturally rather than summon assistance from upper middle management.” Her lip curled at the mention of the trio.

  “Why?” I pressed.

  Hera observed me for a long beat. “Because I’m curious,” she admitted. “I’d like to know if your presence here is meant as some kind of test, or whether your arrival truly is a mistake.”

  “The suits won’t admit that I’m a mistake, even if I am,” I said. Bureaucracy here was the same as anywhere.

  “That’s why I’m disappointed with their interference,” she said. “I’ll never know for sure.” She sighed. “More uncertainty.”

  “Is there any way to find out if a note was passed to them and, if so, who sent it?” I asked.

  Hera drummed her fingers on the desk. “Sadly, no. We don’t keep a list due to privacy concerns. If someone wants to send letters to his former wife in the Elysian Fields, that’s not for us to monitor.”

  “I’ll talk to Randolph and see if he happened to notice any of the letters from yesterday,” I said.

  “I’m not sure that you’ll have time,” Hera said. “Not if they intend to remove you from Divine Place.”

  “They haven’t removed me yet,” I said. “Let me talk to Randolph.” I had plenty of experience extending my welcome before being dragged away by police or some stranger that fancied himself a Good Samaritan.

  “You need to meet them now,” Hera said. “What if they try to take you with them?”

  “They won’t. They’re bureaucrats. I’ll insist on a proper hearing and paperwork to stall them.” And I certainly wasn’t leaving anywhere without Mischief. They’d have to pry my determined fingers from the doorjamb of 47 Hamilton Street.

  Hera nodded. “Yes, good thinking.” She opened the drawers of her desk in search of something. “I have an upper middle management handbook somewhere with policy and procedures.”

  “Have they ever visited before?” I asked.

  “Not these three,” she said. “They typically come once a decade or so to make sure everything is in working order and the village hasn’t descended into chaos.”

  My antennae shot up. “Has that ever happened?”

  “Not here, but I did hear from management about another neighborhood that was burned to the ground after demons got out of control. It’s one of the reasons I work so hard to maintain my authority. I don’t want the entirety of Divine Place to descend.”

  I swallowed hard. No, that would definitely not be the ideal outcome.

  She handed me a sheet of paper. “Here’s the list of policies and procedures. Perhaps there’s a provision that will help you.”

  I stuffed the paper into my pocket. “Are you coming to the meeting?”

  Her lips thinned. “I’m afraid I’m not permitted. Good luck, Marshal Worthington.”

  My heart beat rapidly as I made my time to The Muffin Man. The whole walk over, my thoughts whirred like ice cream in a blender. Would it really be so bad if they escorted me out of Divine Place? Wouldn’t it make more sense to be sent to the afterlife where I belonged? I would never be anything other than human. Everyone here would always be stronger, more powerful, and…I stopped myself from adding better. They weren’t all better simply because they were supernaturals. The recent obliterations had demonstrated that much. Every supernatural in Divine Place had a secret they wanted to keep or parts of their past they were ashamed of—just like humans. Just like me.

  I leaned my shoulder against the door to open it. If anyone had been inside enjoying a muffin when the trio arrived, they were gone now. Only the satyr behind the counter remained and he looked ready to plotz.

  “We took the liberty of ordering you a chocolate chip muffin,” Miss Black said. She inclined her head to the small plate on the table.

  “That’s my favorite,” I said.

  “We know,” Mr. Beige said curtly. “We have your file.”

  Oh, right. I slid into the empty chair at their table. “Before we begin, maybe you could tell me how you found out about me.”

  “We received a letter,” Mr. Beige said.

  “From who?” I persisted.

  “That’s the extent of the information we’re willing to share,” Mr. Grey said.

  “We have to adhere to the privacy policy,” Miss Black added. “Just because we’re upper middle management doesn’t mean we’re above the law.”

  It was worth a try. “So what happens now? You whisk me away to Not-So-Divine Place? Okay Junction?”

  “There’s a spot reserved for you at Last Resort,” Miss Black said.

  Huh. It had the word ‘resort’ in it; maybe it wasn’t all bad. Then again, it also had the word ‘last.’

  “And that’s where I was meant to go when I died?” I asked.

  The trio looked uncomfortable. “There was no error,” Mr. Grey said.

  “We don’t make errors,” Mr. Beige said.

  “Of course
not,” I said. “Listen, here’s the thing. I at least need to stay until I wrap up my current case. I’m in the middle of a critical investigation.”

  “Hera left a human in charge of an investigation?” Mr. Beige asked, aghast.

  “Don’t get your halo out of joint,” I said. “She had her reasons.”

  “Why does she require anyone to lead investigations?” Miss Black asked. “This is Divine Place. There shouldn’t be a need for such things.”

  Uh oh. Maybe I said too much.

  “There have been a few incidents,” I said, choosing my words carefully.

  Mr. Grey leaned forward. “What kind of incidents?”

  “Nothing to concern you,” I said.

  The three visitors exchanged glances. “Now we’re even more concerned,” Miss Black said.

  “Fine. There have been obliterations,” I said.

  “And when did this behavior start?” Mr. Grey asked, although I could tell by the way he asked that he knew the answer.

  “How should I know? I’m a recent arrival.”

  “And yet you were assigned to handle these investigations,” Miss Black said. “Coincidence?”

  I waved my hands dramatically. “Okay, fine. It’s me. I was the kickoff to the big obliteration game.”

  “This began with your presence?” Miss Black asked, her unrelenting gaze pinned on me.

  I shrugged. “So they tell me, but what do I know? Maybe there’s been obliterations galore for years and they’re using me as an excuse.”

  “How many since your arrival?” Mr. Beige asked.

  I pursed my lips, thinking. “We’ve had three villagers obliterated, and few ascensions and descensions.” It didn’t escape my notice that I said ‘we’ rather than ‘they.’

  Miss Black’s brow lifted. “All in the time since your arrival?”

  “I’d like to say I’ve always been an overachiever, but that would be a lie.” I offered a weak smile.

  “All the more reason to relocate Miss Worthington immediately,” Mr. Beige said to his companions. “Her presence could be creating instability for the very foundation of this purgatory.”