Graves and Golf Carts

by Annabel Chase

  Gia kept painting. “Do what you do best. Get yourself a megaphone and stand out front of the HOA until they flee.”

  “At least they’re letting me stay until I solve the case, which doesn’t exactly make me want to find the killer, like, ever.”

  “But you will.”

  I glanced at her. “What makes you say that?” I mean, that was the plan, but I didn’t expect Gia to anticipate it.

  “Because you’re a good person, Eloise. I don’t care who you were in your former life. I know who you are now.”

  “Right back at you,” I said.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “It means that you have a certain amount of self-loathing that you need to jettison if you ever want to ascend. So you were responsible for one terrible decision hundreds of years ago.”

  “Thousands.”

  “You say hundreds; I say thousands.”

  “But it’s factually inaccurate.”

  “Anyhoo, you need to accept that you’re a good goddess, Gia, and that you deserve to ascend.”

  “You’re leaving. What does it matter to you whether I ascend?”

  I clutched my heart. “Gia, just because I’ll be gone doesn’t mean you’ll be forgotten. I’m going to worry about all of you. Wonder whether you were able to earn enough points to leave. I’ll be rooting for you from between the faded lines of my parking spot at the strip mall.”

  Gia’s brow creased. “You’re going to live in a strip mall.”

  “Probably. I have no idea what human purgatory entails,” I said. “I bet there’s no spa or Nectar or Bloodlust.”

  She laughed. “I promise you there’s no Bloodlust.”

  “No Jules. No you. No Mitzi.” My chest tightened. “No Cole.”

  Gia’s eyes grew soft and weepy. “You know, I think you’re right. There’s no need to ever solve Helen-Mary’s obliteration. No one liked her anyway.”

  We both burst into laughter.

  “On paper, Agatha still seems to be the most likely suspect, but I ruled her out.”

  Gia waved a dismissive hand, splattering paint in the process. “Oh, Agatha would never do a thing like that.”

  “That’s what Hera said too. How well do you know her?”

  “She’s a regular in my shop. She comes every week to buy flowers, usually yellow and orange daisies, but she was in a foul mood the other day and chose red.”

  “Because of Helen-Mary’s obliteration?”

  “No, I don’t think she knew about that yet. It must’ve been not long after she’d left the golf course. She was complaining about things never going her way and how tired of it she was.”

  My heart thumped. “What time would you say that was?”

  “About twenty past nine.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “I believe so. Patrice brought the mail when Agatha was still there and that’s at nine-thirty every day except Sunday. I don’t even need to look at the clock; the delivery’s that regular.”

  My hand hovered in mid-air, dripping blobs of black paint on the green grass. That would be a violation of HOA rules for sure, not that I cared at this point.

  Gia noticed the flecks of black on my hands. “You should always wear gloves and an apron when you paint. Now it looks like you have giant moles.”

  My chest felt like it was about to crack in two. Sometimes it didn’t even take three margaritas to make me an idiot. I’d been thinking so hard that I failed to see the answer right in front of me. Good thing I was being deported because otherwise Hera would have to fire me for sheer stupidity.

  “Eloise? What’s the matter?”

  I stumbled to my feet. “As much as I’d like to drag this investigation out for as long as possible, I know what happened to Helen-Mary.”

  Gia stilled me with a firm hand on my arm. “You can’t go alone.”

  “It’s my responsibility.”

  “It’s dangerous.”

  “Gia, I have a one-way ticket to Last Resort and no desire to use it. I’m the only one who can afford to take the risk.” I jumped in the golf cart.

  “The paint isn’t dry!”

  “I’ll go fast. It’ll dry on the way.” I kissed two fingers and held them in the air like I was a tribute in The Hunger Games. Then I sped off into the darkness.

  Chapter Seventeen

  I pressed my foot as hard as I could, but the stupid golf cart still wouldn’t go faster than about fifteen miles per hour. Maybe the carts in human purgatory would go faster. Something to look forward to. Then again, maybe there’d be cars. The only golf carts would be on the golf course, a place I’d never go, especially not now in light of Helen-Mary’s demise. I wasn’t an optimistic person by nature, but I was desperately trying to look on the bright side like those guys from Monty Python.

  As I rode along the perimeter of The Great Divide, I spotted the ferry crossing from one zone to another and waved to Charon, knowing it was unlikely that he could see me. Would I even get to say goodbye to the ferryman? If social media existed in human purgatory, I resolved to give Charon’s beard its own account and maybe an honorary one for Helen-Mary’s wart.

  The more distance I put behind me, the prettier Zone 1 appeared. It was a picturesque village on any given day, but in the darkness with the stars above and the twinkling lights, it had a magical quality to it. Last Resort would probably be full of strip malls and big box stores with gas prices that go up by two cents no matter where you stop. Of course, I didn’t really care about what awaited me there. I cared more about what I was leaving behind. The chilly wind stung my eyes and I felt a splash of water hit my cheeks. Usually I’d be happy to have an excuse for a display of emotion, but I couldn’t lie to myself. Not now. I was crying and it had nothing to do with the weather.

  I wiped the tears away with the back of my hand and continued driving until I reached my Zone 2 destination. It wasn’t difficult to find since it served as both a residential and business address. The zoning laws in Divine Place meant that there were only certain places where a building like this one could be located.

  An illuminated sign with Creative Designs in loopy letters was affixed to the outbuilding next to the house. Not the most original name for a business, but what did it matter now? Light bloomed from inside, so I parked the golf cart in the driveway and grabbed the handcuffs from the glovebox, shoving them into my pocket. I marched forward with the misplaced confidence of a drunk woman throwing darts. After all, I had nothing to lose. I was going to Loserville with the other humans soon enough; I might as well make my last moments in Divine Place count. Carpe diem, as Robin Williams taught me.

  I peered through the open doorway of the workshop where I saw a head crowned with enviable silver hair bent over a rocking chair. The same hair that had looked a dull gray in the artificial light of the lab. If poor Mitzi had been able to complete her spell successfully, I’d have been standing here much sooner and maybe the trio from upper middle management wouldn’t have been alerted to my presence. No point in dwelling on that fact now.

  The workshop was as orderly as I pictured it. A gloved hand worked meticulously with a flat paintbrush with a square edge. I could already see a difference in the finish. Too bad the project would have to be completed by someone else.

  “Roderick, could I speak with you?”

  The fae’s shocked expression left me in no doubt as to who had written the letter to upper middle management. He clearly hadn’t anticipated the possibility that they’d strike a bargain with me. “Marshal Worthington?”

  “I guess the beauty of running your own business is that you can work whenever you like.”

  He glanced at the rocking chair. “I find I do some of my best work in the evening hours.”

  “Throw in a few drinks and I’m right there with you.” I leaned casually against the doorjamb. “You seem surprised to see me.”

  His laughter sounded too nervous to be genuine. “Of course I am. It isn’t as though you’re in
the habit of making social calls here. Do you have a project for me? I believe I mentioned that a golf cart is not the kind of work I handle.”

  “Gia’s helping me with the golf cart.” I swaggered toward him. “I’m afraid I don’t have a project to give you, but you’ve certainly given one to me these past few days.”

  He placed the brush in a liquid-filled jar on the table. “I don’t follow.”

  “You’re a smart guy. I bet you can figure it out. Here, I’ll even give you a hint.” I reached into my pocket and twirled a set of handcuffs on my finger.

  Roderick wore a bemused expression. “Well, I’m flattered, truly, but I’m in a committed relationship with the most beautiful villager in Divine Place.”

  I continued to saunter toward him. “If it’s any consolation, your plan almost worked, except the team from upper middle management appreciated my offer to tie up loose ends first, which gave me more time to think.”

  He folded his arms. “And somehow I qualify as a loose end?”

  “I guess handcuffs don’t so much tie you as bind you.” I shrugged. “Either way, let’s get the arrest over with and then I might swing by Bloodlust for a final drink with Jules.” My throat tightened at the mention of my favorite vampire.

  Roderick’s gaze darted around the workshop, probably trying to decide what he could use as a weapon. It would have to be the chair; it wasn’t like he could paint me to death.

  “Arrest me for what?” he asked, stalling for time.

  “Oh, come on. Don’t embarrass yourself. Helen-Mary didn’t put herself in that pond and she certainly didn’t crack her chest open with a golf club. That took someone with strength and enough anger to back it up.”

  He feigned shock and indignation, splaying a gloved hand against his chest and sputtering. “You think I obliterated her?”

  “I’ll be honest. I’m a little jealous that Agatha has a boyfriend so devoted that he’d kill for her. You’re the Jeff Gillooly to her Tonya Harding and it’s all kinds of sick and beautiful and I hope to one day watch a made-for-TV movie about it.” I cocked my head. “Ted Danson could play you. He’s got the hair for it. We’d need a Marilyn Monroe type to play me, of course.” I fluffed my blond hair.

  “You’re talking gibberish, young lady.”

  “Don’t try to distract me with compliments. I look every minute of my forty-seven years and I’m fine with that. I’ve earned these lines.” Or as I liked to call them—living stripes.

  “I think you should leave,” he said firmly.

  “You have everything. Great hair. Charm. A perfect relationship. You get to be called a fae instead of a fairy, and I’ll never understand the difference. Why would you risk it all?”

  Roderick’s expression softened. “I assure you that I had nothing to do with the witch’s demise. How could I when I’m unable to wield a golf club?”

  “You’re not unable, Mr. Fae. You’d just need to take precautions, which you did, probably with those same gloves you’re wearing now.”

  The fae’s eyes sparked with anger. “Don’t be absurd. You know perfectly well that Agatha and I were together after she left the golf course. We’re each other’s alibis.”

  “Except she made a stop at Bloom after she came here to see you but before your chess game. Did she forget to mention that?” I smiled. “The owner places her there at nine-twenty, which makes you the one without an alibi. Plenty of time for you to leave here and head to the golf course to obliterate Helen-Mary before meeting up with Agatha for a relaxing game of chess.”

  He switched gears, unwilling to cave. “What motive could I possibly have? It’s Agatha who was constantly being undermined by her. I was simply a sympathetic onlooker.”

  I inched closer to him as nonchalantly as possible. If I could get the silver cuffs on him, I’d be golden—or sylvan. “It must’ve bothered you, watching the witch you love suffer day in and day out. Agatha probably obsessed over this promotion and you were the one she confided in.”

  His armor began to dent. “You have no idea. No matter how good her mood, no matter how much amusement there was to be had, every discussion circled back to that wretched witch and their inequality in the business.” He exhaled, his shoulders slumping. “It was exhausting to listen to. I nearly ended our relationship over it more than once, but I love Agatha too much to let her go.”

  “So you decided to take matters into your own hands?” Literally.

  “I didn’t intend to hurt her, I swear. Agatha had stormed in here afterward, raging about the unfairness of it all. Tears streaming. I’d just put the finishing touches on a piece for a client, so I was in a wonderful mood when it all came crashing down. I told her to let me tidy up here and that I’d meet her at the recreation center for chess, knowing how that always soothes her.”

  “Soothes her or puts her to sleep?” I waved a hand. “Never mind. So she left here and dropped by Bloom to order the flowers.”

  “And I went straight to the golf course to give Helen-Mary a piece of my mind.”

  “Still wearing your gloves from the workshop, I assume.”

  “Of course. I didn’t even put the lid back on the paint can before I left. I was too overwrought on Agatha’s behalf.” He pointed a finger at me. “And that can was completely dried out by the time I got back to the workshop later that day. What a waste.”

  “Yes, that’s the real crime here. Wasted paint.” I paused for a beat. “You were both in Zone 1 at the same time. I guess you didn’t take the ferry or you would’ve seen each other.”

  “I rode my scooter. I didn’t want her to know I was going to have a word with Helen-Mary. She would’ve tried to talk me out of it.”

  “That might have been the best outcome, all things considered.”

  His nostrils flared angrily. “I’ve never met a more pompous witch. And she had the nerve to roll her eyes when she spotted me on the fairway, as though I were nothing but a nuisance.”

  “So you lost your temper.”

  “Not initially. I’m a gentleman first and foremost, Marshal. I tried to reason with her, to explain why Agatha deserved that promotion.”

  I smacked my forehead. “Oh, buddy. You tried to mansplain to a witch about her own business?”

  His lips pressed together to form a thin line. “She was being selfish and refusing to listen. I started yelling and might have moved a bit too close for her liking.”

  “Yes, encroaching on a woman’s personal space always goes well.”

  “She tried to swat me away with the club, so I grabbed it and…” He closed his eyes. “You know the rest.”

  “I do, but does Agatha?”

  He reeled back. “Certainly not. Do you think she’d stay with me if she did? In her eyes, I am the perfect fae gentleman and I wish to remain so.”

  “Roderick?”

  We turned toward the sound of Agatha’s voice. The witch stood framed in the doorway, her face pale. There was no doubt in my mind that she’d heard his confession.

  “My darling, you don’t understand.”

  Agatha’s jaw clenched. “I think you’re the one who didn’t understand. Helen-Mary was like a sister to me. I would never want anyone to hurt her.”

  “She was holding you back,” he insisted. “What I did enabled you to finally shine.” He brushed past me to calm her. “You said yourself how well you performed the ritual last night, despite those buffoons. Do you think you would’ve had the chance to prove yourself if Helen-Mary had been there? She was always forcing you into the shade.”

  “She was pretty tall,” I said.

  Agatha’s eyes shone with tears. “You had no right. I handle my own affairs. I’m not a damsel. I don’t need a knight.”

  He cupped her face in his gloved hands. “I know that, my darling. I never meant for you to find out.” He kissed her forehead and then said a word I couldn’t hear. Agatha slipped out of his hands and collapsed on the floor in a heap.

  I balked. “What did you do to her?”


  Roderick turned to face me. “She’ll be fine. I only need her to stay unconscious for this next part so she can claim innocence. I’m sure I can persuade her to see sense when she awakens.”

  “This next part? I hate to break the news, buddy, but I’ve got a pair of handcuffs that will weaken your fae butt and I’m not afraid to use them.”

  His eyes glinted with malice. “I’m afraid that won’t be necessary.”

  “Because you’re coming willingly? Awesome. I was hoping you’d say that because I’ve got to work on my farewell speech. It has too many big words and I don’t want anyone to strain their brain.”

  He lunged, taking me by surprise. I expected him to dance around it a little longer, maybe come up with a good story of self-defense. His hands were around my neck and I realized why he’d kept on the gloves—and also how strong he was. I’d mistakenly banked on arthritic fingers. My bad.

  I choked and tried to draw breath as his hands tightened around my neck. I curled my fingers around the cuffs and tried to maneuver them. Who knew how difficult it would be to think straight while being strangled? And here I considered myself a good multitasker.

  I raised the cuffs with as much force as I could muster and slammed them against the side of his head. It was enough of a blow that he released me and I gasped for breath. Before he could wrap his hands around my neck again, I grabbed his wrist and tried to slap a cuff on him. Even one should weaken him, hopefully enough to get the other one on.

  My optimism was short-lived. Roderick twisted my arm and grabbed the cuffs with his gloved hand. He flung them and I watched in horror as they sailed across the room. I grasped at empty air with my free hand in a vain attempt to catch them, but I knew it was hopeless.

  Roderick shoved me backward and I fell hard on my tailbone. “You can’t overpower me, human. You should’ve left this alone. You have no business being here, let alone trying to dispense justice.”

  “I’m not trying to dispense justice,” I said, wincing from the sharp pain that radiated up my spine. “That’s for others to decide.”

  The fae threw himself on top of me and again reached for my neck. At best, I’d have a nasty bruise. At worst, I’d be obliterated. Neither prospect was appealing. I wasn’t French enough to look good in a silk scarf and that was the only thing I could do to cover my neck. I tried to wriggle out from under him, but he was too strong. If only I could reach the handcuffs. The silver had left a mark on the side of his head so I knew it was potent enough to subdue him. Unfortunately, the handcuffs were now all the way across the room and I had a self-proclaimed gentleman on top of me. The last time that happened was at my cousin Sara-Jo’s birthday party in one of the upstairs bedrooms.